#thanks for the ask and i certainly hope you didn't read this far

[signfromeywa]

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGN FROM EYWA)

Chapter 07: Back in the enclosure

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 3439 

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❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I’m a German author and this is the first time I’ve tried to translate a story I’m working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

The airlock opened and Ana stepped into his old enclosure with Ean'tu by the hand. After a few more weeks, the cultivation of the new plants had finally been completed and Ean'tu was able to move back into the old enclosure. Ana had been eagerly waiting for this, it gave them more privacy but also more space and comfort for the Na'vi. Thanks to the great trust Ean'tu already had in Ana, they were once again able to move on foot. There had been no need to sedate him or use other heavy measures. He trusted her and had walked calmly by her side back to his enclosure. It was always a big risk, Ana was aware of that. He could try to escape at any time, which she would even understand. The desire for freedom certainly burned deep in his heart and Ana felt the same way. This thought was also growing in her mind. The Na'vi could not stay here forever. That wasn't right.

Turner called over the radio: "Novak, everything okay so far?"

"Yes, we arrived safely at the enclosure, you can give the all-clear." Ana replied and Ean'tu looked at her. By now his English wasn't bad at all, she could hardly believe how incredibly quickly he was learning. Communicating with him had become so much easier but also more intimate.

"Was that the other minder of mine?" he asked quietly, still with a strong accent despite his good English.

"Yes, that was Turner, he wanted to know if everything had worked out." Ana looked up at Ean'tu, he hadn't been able to hear the radio because she had a small headset in her ear.

"I'm sure he just wanted to know if I'd done something to you." He still didn't trust Turner and obviously didn't like him. So far, he had also refused any contact with Turner.

"No, he knows you won't hurt me, he's on our side, even if it's hard to believe." Ana stroked Ean'tu's hand and then led the way. "Look, they really did grow the plants in question."

Ana tried to lighten the mood a little. She knew they were still in a prison, but they had to make the best of it. Ean'tu walked past Ana, over to the plants and stroked the leaves. She could see a slight smile on his face, which then gave way to a dull, sad look. Did he remember his home? Should Ana perhaps ask or was that inappropriate and would only open old wounds?

To her surprise, Ean'tu herself began to tell the story, "Sa'nu and I used to go out a lot to collect these leaves. She was a good teacher, she taught me how to weave."

"Your mom?" Ana came over to him and also touched a leaf. He nodded sadly. "Where's your mom now?"

"I hope with Eywa..." it was almost a whisper from Ean'tu, his words sounded sad and heavy. Ana didn't know what exactly they meant, but she thought it had a similar meaning to when people wished their loved ones were in heaven. She would not realize how serious the words really were until much later.

Ean'tu seemed to be grieving. Ana would have liked to know so much more about his childhood, but she didn't dare ask. It just didn't seem to be the right moment. The Na'vi closed his beautiful eyes for a moment and seemed to pause. Then he took a deep breath and turned to face her again.

"I can show you how we weave ribbons." he struggled to smile to hide his sadness.

"I'd love to learn from you." Ana was excited by the idea. So far, Ean'tu had only learned from her and she had felt bad about imposing her culture on him. It was only appropriate that she also learned to understand the Na'vi and their way of life.

Ean'tu nodded. "Okay, I'll look for some nice leaves later so we can start tomorrow. Today I would like to ask you for something."

Ana listened with interest. "Yes?"

"My hair is soft and beautiful again thanks to you, I wonder if you can put it back together for me?" he took his hair and held it together in a half-up hairstyle.

"Yes, I can do that if you like. Tell me how you want it, I'll help you." Ana was proud and honored. It was the first time Ean'tu had actively asked her for help. "I have to get out of the enclosure in a minute, we've got a delivery. I'm sure I'll find everything I need there."

These were the things Ana had asked for. They included all sorts of things. From fabrics and materials to clothing. She didn't know what the Na'vi normally wore, so she had asked her secret contact. They gave her a rough description and Ana had to choose things based on this rough information. She hoped he wouldn't hate the things she had chosen.

"Okay, I'll wait for you at the tree." He smiled at her again, with that warm, friendly smile. Every time he did, her heart leapt for joy. He touched her on the head, almost as if he wanted to stroke her cheek, which was unfortunately not possible thanks to the mask. Instead, he stroked her neck and turned away to go to the tree. His only place of retreat.

Ana breathed a heavy sigh and tried to ignore the longing tugging at her heart. It was wrong, she kept telling herself so as not to lose her reason. Then she too made her way through the airlock to accept the delivery she had ordered.

When she arrived at the top of her department, Turner was already waiting for her among a pile of delivery boxes. He had a digital clipboard in his hand and seemed to be checking that everything was there.

When Ana came into the room, he looked up from his work. "Out of the enclosure so soon?"

"I want to get some things out of the boxes, I hope everything I asked for is there." Ana walked over to the boxes, put her hands on her hips and looked at the mountain of boxes. With a bit of bad luck, it would be a while before she found what she was looking for.

" Have you seen, the plants have settled in well in the enclosure, they look great."

"Yes, Sky has already had a closer look at them too. They were very satisfactory. The responsible staff have done a good job." Ana took the first box, opened it and looked through the contents. "You could take the other boxes from the pile and put them in a row."

Turner nodded and set to work. She was grateful for his help, the boxes looked heavy. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"I requested hair accessories for Sky and some clothes." Ana stuck her head up to her shoulders in one of the boxes and rummaged around.

"I'll help you find it." Turner also opened one and rummaged through the contents.

After what felt like a while and three boxes later, Ana emerged triumphantly. "I've got it!" she pulled the hair ornament out of the box and held it up solemnly. Then she turned to Turner? "So, have you had any luck yet?"

He also straightened up, but shook his head. "No, not yet. I'll try the last box." He opened it and began to search. "I have to say Novak, that's a lot of stuff I don't know what you want to do with."

Ana grinned and came over to Turner. "I won't be able to do anything with it either, but I'm sure Sky knows exactly how to process all the materials. Otherwise, he and I will figure it out together."

Turner paused. "I think that's what you were looking for. At least that's my guess."

He pulled out a pair of pants, they were made of light beige fabric and were very breathable. On Ean'tu they would fit loosely, comfortably and give him enough leg room.

"Yes, exactly, then the other parts should be in there too." she leaned over to the box and picked out the second part of the set. It was also a loose fabric that was wrapped around the chest and fastened at the neck. "I hope he likes it, definitely better than the old leather rag he's wearing now." Ana stroked the fabric.

Turner nodded in agreement. "I think he'll be pleased, at least you've put some thought into it and I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Good, then I won't keep him waiting any longer. Take a break, you've done a lot of work. The break will do you good." She smiled gratefully at Turner. Ana knew that he organized and worked a lot for Ana and Ean'tu. Without him, she wouldn't know how she could manage it all, he was a good ally.

Turner looked at her hesitantly for a moment. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he still seemed slightly worried.

"Yes, you can trust Sky. Just like I do." Ana assured him.

He sighed. "All right, but be careful. I'll be in the canteen."

Ana nodded and grabbed all her things and her laptop, then went back into the enclosure. She had put the clothes and hair accessories in a smaller cardboard box to make them easier to transport.

Packed full, she arrived at the tree in the enclosure, where Ean'tu had said Ana would find him. Before she had walked the last few meters, however, someone grabbed the box. Ana looked up and saw Ean'tu standing behind her. She hadn't even heard him approach her. He was always so gentle and quiet.

"I'll take something for you." he said kindly and smiled.

"That's sweet, thank you." Together they walked to the large trunk of the tree and set the things down. Ana sat down on a raised root while Ean'tu looked curiously into the box.

"What did you bring?"

"Clothes." Ana answered him and he looked at her questioningly. "For you, I think it's time you get rid of that old leather rag and get something new."

Ana pointed to the old loincloth Ean'tu was wearing. It seemed to be made of leather, was very old and looked torn. It must have been long at some point, but now it didn't even go down to his knees. The shred of leather just about did the job.

"That's thoughtful of you, what did you bring me?" Ean'tu squatted down in front of the box and was very curious.

"Go ahead and take it out. It's yours anyway..." Ana squatted down in front of it and watched as the Na'vi carefully took out the fabric. First the pants. "I don't know if you like it, it's certainly not the same as what you wore back then." Ana sounded uncertain.

Ean'tu noticed this. "Let me put it on right now." He smiled at her happily. "Wait here."

He stood up and disappeared behind the tree. It was so wide that he could easily hide behind it to change his clothes. When he had his pants on, he came out. "There's a hole missing for my tail." He turned around to show the problem. The waistband of the pants was still below his tail and he held the pants tight.

Ana took a pair of scissors out of the box and approached him. "I'm cutting a hole, please don't move."

The Na'vi was nervous about having a sharp object so close to his tail, so to be on the safe side he held on to it as well.

Ana quickly made a small cut, "Try it now and if it's too small, carefully tear the fabric a little."

Ean'tu nodded and put his tail through the new hole, it fit well and he was finally able to pull his pants up properly.

"Sorry, I didn't know exactly where the hole needed to be, so I didn't include that, now at least we have it just right." she smiled at him. "So... what do you think?"

The Nave squatted a few times with the pants. The pants were very loose and airy and followed his every movement without any problems. "The fabric is very soft and I can move around easily. I like it a lot."

Ana was relieved. She had been worried that it might come across as insulting if she simply brought him human clothing instead of his traditional clothes, but he seemed to take it positively. He went to the box and pulled out the fluffy top. "What's this?"

"Oh you don't have to wear it if you don't like it, but you wear it sort of like this." Ana indicated how to wear it on herself.

"That's unusual for us, but I'll try it on." With Ana's guidance, he skillfully wrapped the top and tied it around his neck.

Ana smiled at him a little more dreamily than planned. "It looks really good on you, you look very pretty in it."

Ean'tu looked down at himself and stroked the soft fabric. "It's definitely something different." Then he looked at Ana. "Thank you for thinking of me." he returned her gentle smile.

They both blushed and Ana sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's the least I can do for you."

Ean'tu came to her and knelt in front of her to look into her eyes. "I know you feel guilty about what the sky people are doing to me... but you're not like them."

Ana held her breath and returned his gaze. He had seen through her. In fact, she felt terribly guilty that Ean'tu was trapped here. It wasn't right, but she felt so powerless.

She pressed her lips together in dismay and smiled wanly. "That's sweet of you to say... but I work for those monsters..."

Ean'tu did not take his eyes off her. His reddish eyes were still on her, with all gentleness in his gaze. "Ana..."

The way he pronounced her name, only he had that certain sound with his accent. It made a pleasant warmth rise in her.

"If it wasn't for you, I might have already given up all hope. Eywa... my home... everything is so far away and out of my reach. But your big heart has given me hope again. I will not give up." He then said and touched her chest again, where her heart was.

Ean'tu was such a good soul. Ana didn't deserve that and yet she was happy about his words. She was glad that he hadn't given up yet, even though the situation was so hopeless.

"Would you like to... do my hair? I'd be delighted." He smiled at her encouragingly.

Ana felt ridiculous for moping around like this, even though he was the prisoner here. So she finally shook off the gray clouds that were clouding her mind. "But of course. Sit down, I've brought a few things especially for this."

Ean'tu sat down expectantly and happily. Ana took all the things out of the box that she would need to fix Ean'tu's hair.

He patiently held still, using his hands to gently instruct her where he wanted the half-open plait and what he would like to have braided. Ana did her best. His hair was a little rougher than hers, if only because it was curly and therefore much harder to tame. But after a few attempts and some back and forth, she had the hairstyle done. Finally, she fetched two more things. One was a tablet, from which she used the inside camera so that Ean'tu could look at herself.

"What do you think? Did it turn out right?" Ana watched as the Na'vi looked at himself in the tablet.

He turned his head from right to left and looked very satisfied. "Yes, it's perfect, thank you very much." he breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently it was a great relief to have his hair out of his face in a proper hairstyle. Before he could stand up, Ana held him by the shoulder.

"Wait, I have something else for you, close your eyes for a moment." She had hidden something behind her back.

Surprised, Ean'tu remained seated and closed his eyes. His tail twitched back and forth excitedly. Ana approached him and pulled out a small pearl necklace for his hair. It had a drop-shaped pearl in the middle, which was meant to lie in the middle of his forehead. It was a hair ornament she had made herself. When the secret contact told her that Na'vi liked to wear homemade jewelry, the idea came to her.

When she had attached the pearl necklace to his hairstyle and the pearl was perfectly centered on his forehead, she allowed him to open his eyes. "You can look now."

He opened his eyes and looked at himself in the tablet. His mouth was slightly open and he looked enthusiastically at the pearls on his forehead. "Pearls..." he said, amazed and delighted at the same time. "How beautiful." He touched them carefully.

"Do you like it? I made it myself." Ana came to his side and looked at his reflection in the tray with him.

" If I like it?" he turned to her, "Of course! I love it!" he beamed happily at Ana's face, which now made her beam with delight too.

"I'm glad, I wasn't so sure it was the right thing. I'm glad I could make you happy." She was just about to turn away to put away the rest of the utensils she had used for Ean'tu's hair when he held her by the wrist and turned her to face him again. Then he took her in his arms. He wrapped both his arms tightly around her and snuggled up to Ana.

Ana was a little taken by surprise at first, but then she also put her arms around him as best she could and pressed herself into the embrace.

"Thank you..." Ean'tu murmured into the hug and Ana's heart began to beat excitedly again. A hot blush rose to her cheeks. She had never been this close to the Na'vi in all this time, but it felt great. He was warm and his skin was soft. Even though he was so much bigger and stronger than her, his embrace was cautious, though not lacking in intimacy. Their bodies snuggled together seamlessly.

She felt the Na'vi breathe a sigh of relief beneath her hug. As if it was exactly what he had been longing for. Ana allowed the hug for as long as he needed it, because apparently he really needed it. She wanted to give him the closeness he had apparently missed so much.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he released Ana from the hug. "..." he wanted to say something but seemed to swallow it.

He still had his hands on her hips. Ana stroked his cheek lovingly. "What is it Ean'tu, tell me."

He lifted his eyes and looked at her, slightly embarrassed but also a little sad. "I was just thinking... it would be nice... if we could do this more often."

As soon as he said it, a blush crept onto his cheeks. Ana was also surprised by what he had said and her heart reacted strongly to it. Why did she react so strongly to Ean'tu? Why couldn't she turn off this feeling in her heart? What they were doing here was no longer professional. It no longer had anything to do with her work, but she couldn't escape it either. She was spellbound by the Na'vi.

She lowered her eyelids sheepishly, "If that's what you want."

Ean'tu reached for her hand and gently stroked her fingers. "Is that what you want? I don't want you to be uncomfortable... because... I'm not human."

Now Ana suddenly looked him in the eye. "That's not it! I don't care if you're human or Na'vi!" She put her hand on his chest and could feel his strong heart beating. "What matters is what's here Ean'tu. I like who you are."

Moved by her statement, he bit his lower lip and suppressed tears, she could see it in his eyes. He was very emotional. How could she have ever believed he was aggressive? He was probably the exact opposite.

"I see you, Ana." he said softly, his voice quivering slightly, as emotional as he was at the moment.

Now Ana felt a heavy emotional sigh, which she suppressed. There was no way she was going to come close to tears now. She had to pull herself together. But her heart was heavy and the longing pulled at her more and more. Almost whispering, she answered him, "I see you too, Ean'tu..."

Tag list: @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen @anemonelovesfiction @talialobi @gimmebones715 (If you want to get added, comment it under the post)

[justplaggin]

Your thoughts on the new episode ??

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just���please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

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[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

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[mickyschumacher]

can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!

[SECRETS IN SANTORINI!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.

People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.

Men your age were... well, boys.

Men Carlos' age were men but also men.

You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.

But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.

You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.

By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.

Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.

If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.

And boy did he try.

You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.

He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...

Carlos was menace.

But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.

You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.

Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.

Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.

But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.

Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.

To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.

"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.

"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.

Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."

You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?

Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.

You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.

Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"

"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.

Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."

Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.

Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.

You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.

You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.

What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.

"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."

Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.

The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."

The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?

Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.

And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '

"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.

It was serene.

The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.

You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).

"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.

Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."

You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."

Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."

You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"

"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.

"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.

"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."

You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.

Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.

"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.

You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.

He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.

Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.

The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.

Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.

You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."

"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.

You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.

You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.

Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.

"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.

He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.

If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.

You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.

Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.

"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.

Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.

"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.

"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.

Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.

"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."

Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."

Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.

Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.

Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.

You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.

"Carlos?" You softly called out.

Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"

You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.

You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.

"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.

Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.

Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"

You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.

"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.

Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.

His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.

You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.

"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.

You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.

A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.

Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.

"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.

Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.

He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.

"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.

Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.

"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.

You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.

"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.

"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.

You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.

"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."

You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."

Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."

You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."

Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery | part two

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: sorry this took a little longer than i expected! it was so fun to make though. i didn't want to say who she's actually with because i feel like it's fun for the readers to have to figure that out too! so please share any guesses you have lol i'm interested to see what people think the outcome will be. hope you enjoy and thank you sm for reading<3

part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

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liked by yourbrother, maxverstappen1, and 101,225 others

yourusername happy birthday to my favorite brother, i love you and am so grateful to know i have someone in my life who looks after me like you do<3 here's my fav pics of us of course they're all racing related lol, our first love

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yourbrother "my favorite brother"... As far as I know I am your only brother 😐

⤷ yourusername 🥱🥱🥱🥱 technicalities

yourbrother Thank you least favorite sister, miss those days. Have to get back out on the karting track, been too long since I've beaten you

⤷ yourusername been too long since you've been beaten, you mean?

⤷ yourbrother Yeah, yeah we'll let the track times speak for themselves

⤷ user1 ok but we have to admit the brother sister banter is kind of adorable

⤷ user2 no bc she seems so sweet 😭

user3 nah because what is max verstappen doing in this girls likes now????

⤷ user4 and the plot thickens 😯

user5 she saw everyone calling her a fake f1 fan and said take a look at this

user6 yn hater club how you guys feeling right about now

⤷ user7 🤡🤡🤡🤡

user8 honestly kind of hope she's dating one of them

⤷ user9 yall switch up so fast please 😭😭

user10 seriously..... you HAD to only post f1 related photos lmfao so totally pandering to the landoscar fans

user11 f1 school of wags next graduate

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liked by mclaren, yourusername, and 1,891,218 others

landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!! couldn't have asked for a better race, congrats @/oscarpiastri and a huge thanks as always to @/mclaren 🧡

view all 5,871 comments

user1 I SAY THATS MY BABY AND IM SO PROUD 😭

user2 mclaren double podium... oh i used to pray for times like these

user3 oscar piastri you are insane omfg

user4 MY POOKIES LOOK AT THEM !!!!!!!!! 🫂

user5 save me landoscar SAVE ME

yourusername jumping up and down screaming and crying losing my mind

⤷ landonorris you should probably get that checked out....

⤷ user6 THATS IT, ITS YN AND LANDO IM CALLING IT

⤷ user7 nah nah nah this is so giving gf of the bestie banter

⤷ user8 agreed hopping on the oscaryn train 💪🏻

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yourusername added to their story

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oscarpiastri added to their story

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liked by kellypiquet, oscarpiastri, and 789,012 others

yourusername qatar gp smiles <3 practice timeeee

📸 @/kellypiquet

view all 1,281 comments

kellypiquet so beautiful

⤷ yourusername all you

landonorris eye spy a mclaren car down there?

⤷ yourusername ? i just see a tractor

⤷ landonorris not funny. 😐

⤷ yourusername i certainly laughed

⤷ oscarpiastri same actually

⤷ user1 i dont know how much longer i can take this

⤷ user2 GUYSSSS i am telling you its so oscaryn

⤷ user3 WHAT literally look at the Proof its so landoyn 🥱

⤷ user4 i am giggling we're literally in a shipwar

user5 she's so pretty i'm sorry guys i love her 😵‍💫

⤷ user6 well yes!

user7 patiently waiting for one of the mcl boys to main feed post her then we know for sure ‼️

⤷ user8 at this rate it still won't clear anything up

lilymhe miss u beautiful

⤷ yourusername omg i miss u more ms lily

⤷ user9 she has The wag stamp of approval WE MOVE!

user10 theres four e's at the end of 'time'....... landos number is 4 i've got it guys 😃😃

⤷ user11 seek medical attention STAT

⤷ user12 bro thinks this is a taylor swift album release

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liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 789,012 others

yourusername oscar piastri sprint race winner AND mclaren double podium, better start calling me the good luck charm

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user1 nah bc you're onto something.....

user2 she can't be serious 😐

⤷ user3 well no shit it's just an instagram caption

user4 i cannot be the only one who finds the caption extremely weird

⤷ user5 nah i'm with you i've never liked her 🙄

⤷ user6 its just so odd like forcing yourself into the mclaren narrative completely taking away from the boys achievements writing it off as your own doing...

⤷ user7 omfg yall are so dramatic just say you're jealous they're not dating you lmfao

⤷ user8 no fr because it is not that serious it's clearly a joke like she loves them cmon now

mclaren BRB getting your paddock passes for the duration of the season

⤷ yourusername i'm giggling, i love you guys 😙

⤷ user9 see mclaren is fine with it so yall should be too

⤷ user10 now i'm going to need all the haters to sit DOWN and shut the fuck UP

oscarpiastri wait can you send me that picture

⤷ yourusername i literally did already but okay

⤷ oscarpiastri ok could do with less attitude

⤷ yourusername you have not seen real attitude piastri

⤷ oscarpiastri 😧

⤷ user11 i think this just converted me to team oscar

⤷ user12 nah this is literally landoyn confirmation

landonorris 🍀

⤷ user13 i am picking up what he's putting down

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part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

taglist:

@landoscar-f1 , @urfavnoirette , @imsiriuslyreal

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day

And other Valentine's Day miscellanea. I'm going with MC giving store-bought chocolates. I know in some places, it's more common to give homemade chocolates, but I for one do not have any idea how that is done and it's not something that's common where I live, so I'm going to go with what I know, which is very little. Enjoy! (Mostly below the cut.)

The length of these varies. Some are quite short. I just wanted to put out some sort of Valentine's Day themed Thing, even if I'm almost two days late.

Lucifer

"How thoughtful. I don't suppose there's anything deeper I'm meant to read into here?"

He's so smug. Unreasonably so. More than you would expect. Yeah, guys, he got chocolates from MC. But his pride doesn't allow him to flaunt the fact. He has to just hope and pray people actively ask him whether he's gotten anything or where those not-so-discreetly placed chocolates sitting on his desk happened to come from.

Lucifer is very traditional in his treatment of you. When it comes to events like this, he's almost painfully predictable. He'll certainly have roses for you, and depending on your relationship, he might reserve dinner for two at a high end restaurant. And if your relationship is at a certain level, you can expect a trail of rose petals leading to the bed. It's kind of cringeworthy but he means well.

Mammon

"O-oh... Ahem... Is it Valentine's Day? Ha! I thought I was forgettin' somethin'. Heh, uh... thanks, human."

Obviously he didn't forget; he's been stressing over this day for the past week. He needs to get you something, but it can't be anything that's too cheesy or anything that makes him look cheap, so he's probably broken the bank to get you some sort of jewelry that he'll spend the next century paying off, but it's worth it.

When he gets chocolates from you, he plays it off like it's no big deal, but actually, he's so excited to reciprocate that before he has time to think it over, he's acting like he just so happened to have this expensive piece of jewelry on his person so you might as well take it for him. He spends the rest of the day kicking himself because now how in the world are you supposed to know that this was actually a very tactful and expensive gift from the greatest demon in the Devildom?

That, and he'll probably spend the entire day glaring at his brothers and the dateables from the corner as they shower you with gifts and attention.

Leviathan

"Wh...? For me? This isn't a prank, right? Because I'm not gonna forgive you if this box is full of tide pods!"

It's not full of tide pods, so all is well. He's so embarrassed to have doubted you that he tries to just shove his gift into your hands and push you out of his room, but it won't take too much persistence to get him to back down.

His gift is some sort of merch relating to an anime, manga, or game the two of you have particularly enjoyed together. Preferably something cute and evocative of the holiday. He doesn't know. He's never done this before. Why would he? Nobody would ever think to give him anything on Valentine's Day, so why would he bother with gifts? You do remember that nobody likes him, right? He doesn't like them either, so it's fine, but---

Let's just thank him for our gift before he falls too far down the self-hate spiral.

Satan

"I had hoped I might receive something from you today."

Satan is glad to get something from you, no matter what it is, but to be honest, chocolates probably aren't the best choice for him. He'd rather have something a little more heart-felt, that seems like you picked it out with him in mind. Literally anything cat-themed, or a book of some sort (bonus if it's a romance novel).

He's probably gone and done something stupidly romantic like buy you flowers and a book of poetry with certain parts highlighted.

But don't be fooled. Satan's favorite part of Valentine's Day is talking about its gruesome history, from the martyrdom of St. Valentine to a whole host of brutal murders that have taken place on the day. Catch him trying to figure out how to shoehorn the Chicago St. Valentine's Day Massacre into a casual conversation.

Asmodeus

"Oh, for meeee? You're such a sweetheart!"

He adds it to his enormous pile of chocolates, cards, flowers, and love letters. But of course, it's special, because it's from you.

He loves it, but... he's another one who would probably prefer something a little more personalized. Being who he is, he's a very popular demon on Valentine's Day, so seeing you put in a little effort to get him something with a bit of Asmo-flair would thrill him.

Beelzebub

"Chocolates...? This is the best thing I could have asked for. They'll taste even better knowing they're from you."

Well, obviously he loves them. He probably tried to get you chocolates too, but it doesn't matter how much he loves you. Beel's gonna Beel. The box is empty. He's shocked. He was sure he left some.

Belphegor

"...Wait, it's...? ...Thanks, MC. They look really good."

Belphie stares down at the chocolates in his hands, looking tired and mellow, while he internally panics because holy shit, it's already February 14? When did that happen? He doesn't have anything for you. He hates Valentine's Day. Why does it have to exist and lay bare all his inadequacies, like being a procrastinator and forgetting to prepare for things in advance even to the slightest degree?

Diavolo

"Ah, for Valentine's Day! It's a delight to receive this in person!"

Diavolo probably gets plenty of Valentine's Day presents from admirers (and suck-ups) around the Devildom, but most of them come in the mail or are otherwise delivered in an impersonal manner. So when you approach him directly to give him some chocolates, he's reminded why you're everyone's favorite human (himself included).

Also, you'd better clear out your schedule, because Diavolo booked out all of Ristorante Six for a dinner date tonight. Yes, the entire thing. Yes, on Valentine's Day. No, he's not worried about the dozens of disappointed couples who had probably been hoping to eat there.

Barbatos

"Any gift from you is satisfactory in my eyes."

It's kind of embarrassing to give regular old chocolates to someone like Barbatos who's a complete whiz in the kitchen, especially when it comes to sweets. But you figure he'd appreciate the gesture, and you'd be right. Of course, he will turn around and present you with a variety of immaculate, handcrafted artisan chocolates, tailor made to your personal taste. But sure, those store-bought candies you got in the heart-shaped box are completely fine, so stop stressing out about it.

Solomon

"Aw, thank you, my adorable apprentice! I have some homemade chocolates for you! What? Aren't you going to try some?"

Solomon tries to kill you on Valentine's Day...with love, obviously! But seriously, aren't you going to try the chocolates? He put his whole heart into them. And the hearts of several unique Devildom species. They're not toxic, stop worrying.

Simeon

"The fact that you thought of me means more than you realize."

And he means it. The fact that you thought about him, and when thinking about him, made the active decision to buy him something for Valentine's Day makes him stupidly happy.

Simeon strikes me as a flowers kind of guy. He got you flowers. Maybe some homemade treats too, but definitely flowers.

Luke

"Thanks! I got you something too. Happy Valentine's Day!"

Luke made cookies. They're delicious. Befriending this kid is the smartest thing you ever did.

[moonlight1110]

He knows he's better (Part 1)

Ghost x Reader

You come home late from a date with an old friend of yours, a date which you've mentioned to Simon... Your roommate who secretly has feelings for you.

Tags: afab!reader, suggestive, far from canon simon, tension tension tension!, he's just better tbh, not proofread rawr

Notes: this man has me in a chokehold. thats all + give me reqs if yall have any for simon or for anyone too! <3

Part 2 now up to read!! <3

"You're home late" His gruff voice was the first thing to greet you as you entered your shared apartment with your roommate, Simon. His big, burly figure was the next to greet you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes glaring down at you.

You could feel his eyes trailing down every part of your body, he didn't show it of course, but the way your little black dress hugged your curves perfectly, and the way your hair looked just a little messy was enough to send his mind spiraling with thoughts of you... and how much better he'd be able to treat you than any shitty date.

"Sorry, I had trouble getting a cab..." you groaned as you walked past him, stopping just a few steps away to take your shoes off. Simon felt his breath hitch in his throat when you bent down ever so slightly to catch your ankle while you undid the straps of your heels.

Stupid fuckin' date didn't even take her home... Didn't even make sure she was safe...

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and walking over to you. Big hands encasing yours, the sudden contact making you look back at Simon. His expression was still that of a stoic one as he looked into your eyes. "So... How'd the date go?" He asked, taking over your hands as he undid the straps of your heels himself.

It was an unexpected gesture, one that certainly made your cheeks burn red. The room was dark at least, that much you could be thankful for so he wouldn't be able to see how hot your face had gotten. "It was fine... I guess..." You mumbled, blinking as you felt your heart quicken when Simon's hands trailed down your calf, raising your other leg to undo the strap on that heel.

"Fine? S' not usually a good word to describe a good first date, love" He chuckled as he finished taking both your heels off, setting them down by the shoe rack you shared. Your breath hitched deep in your throat when you felt his breath just barely hitting your neck. He was close, so close that you could almost feel the heat from his body radiating and warming yours.

"I mean, it wasn't that bad... But it wasn't good either" you sighed, turning around to face him. He cocked a brow as he looked down at you, a dirty smirk plastered on those lips of his. "That's it? C'mon, y' talked my ear off this whole week 'bout this date and what? It's just fine?" He scoffed, eyes glancing down to your lips, then to your body.

You looked away, a little embarrassed at the fact that Simon was right. You were looking forward to this date in hopes that it would actually be good but you couldn't even say that.

Simon chuckled lowly at your silence, walking past you to sit down on the couch with a loud sigh. You turned to look at his amused expression, brown eyes looking you up and down slowly, "Go on then, tell me about this date" he grinned. You rolled your eyes, walking to the couch and plopping down beside him.

His eyes lit up momentarily, seeing the way your dress hiked up just a bit to reveal more of your thighs. He had to keep it together, couldn't let you know how badly you made him want to take you right then and there. "Honestly? It was a shitty date," you groaned, annoyed. Simon on the other hand had his ears perking up, ready to listen.

"He was almost an hour late, and when he finally arrived he didn't even apologize or give me a reason why" You explained, not caring that it was going to lead to a rant. You were about to continue your explanation when you felt Simon's hand softly make it's way to your thigh.

"Simon... what-"

"Keep talking, I wanna know more..."

You gulped, stuttering. "H-he didn't give me an explanation... So I tried asking him about it but..." Your voice was getting quieter as he caressed your thigh slowly, looking into your eyes intently. "But?" He was teasing you at this point, had to be.

"He just brushed me off..." You continued, watching the way Simon's large hand laid on top of your thigh. "Brushed you off?" He scoffed, you nod, trying to come up with another sentence to add. "It was kinda okay after that... we talked, caught up, but he was just talking about himself really..." You trailed off, eyes still focused on the way Simon's veins looked under the moonlight which was the only source of light in the room coming from the window.

"Really now?" He asked, amused. You looked up to meet his eyes, his pupils were dilated and his lips in small grin as he looked back at you. He laughed lowly, noticing how silent you got. Slowly, he retracted his hand from your thigh, making you furrow your brow.

"Come here" He whispered, his hand which was once on your thigh, was now on his, patting it invitingly. You blinked, looking at him confused and a little shocked. He scoffed, reaching his hand out for you to take. You didn't really know what to do in that moment, but you took his hand, earning a low chuckle as a sly grin as he gently led you to straddle him.

"Now, tell me more"

Simon's hands found themselves at your thighs, trailing over your skin slowly as he waited for you to continue talking.

Your breathing was heavy, and from the way he was touching you, it was like your memory of the date you had just an hour ago was getting clouded by thoughts of Simon.

"He... told me he forgot his wallet..." You breathed, not even focusing on your shitty date experience now. Simon looked into your eyes with furrowed brows, his lips in a thin line. He looked annoyed.

"And you had to pay for him?" His voice was laced with anger and annoyance. You nod, making Simon click his tongue as he looked away, thinking of ways he would've broken your stupid date in two for the way he treated such a perfect woman.

"What a prick," He groaned, his hands now travelling higher, one trailing further up your thigh, and the other pressing on the small of your back softly, bringing you closer to him. "You need a man who would treat you so much better," He continued, looking into your eyes with a frown, then to your lips, and back to your eyes again.

"Treat you the way you deserve" He whispered lowly. The hand which was on your back now resting on your waist, squeezing your flesh through the fabric of your dress. "Those boys wouldn't know how to handle a woman like you... treat you the way you need to be treated...".

The air between you was hot, almost suffocating from the way Simon was holding you so closely to him, the way he meant every single one of his words. He knew he was better, better than any one of the boys you went on cute little tea parties with. No, he was much, much better. He knew it, and now you knew it too.

"Just say the word, love... And I'm all yours" He whispered, taking your chin between his index and thumb, gently coaxing your face closer to his. You felt his hot breath on your lips as your eyes never left his, now half-lidded.

"I'd be so much better... So much better" He whispered, his eyes lingering on your lips. So soft, so kissable... He needed you so bad, and in this moment he wanted nothing more than to tell you that, tell you how bad he has wanted and wished to be your man for so long.

"Simon..." You whispered, your arms now moving to wrap around his neck. He hummed, silently asking you to continue.

"I don't wanna go on another shitty date..." you inched closer, your lips brushing just a bit, but not enough.

"And you'll never go on another one, not when I'm your man, lovie"

[xo-cod]

this is so weird but how about baby!141 au? i recently read a few and they’re just so cute, i just wish i had a baby simon or johnny 😭❤

if not no worries! I love your blog 💛✨

thank you lovely 🤍 this is so cute ! thank you for requesting, i hope this is along the lines of what you meant lmaoo. also don't mind the inaccuracies

no price this time, i just could not imagine him as a baby no matter how hard i tried 😭 if you want a second part with him though, let me know :)

•• assuming something happened that reverted them in their baby form ••

base was quiet, it always was but you usually heard the guys work out or wind down for the night. price had gone on an isolated missions tonight with laswell, making it one man down tonight. still, hearing no commotion was slightly unnerving but you brushed it off regardless, placing down the glass you used for water to tune in for the night.

but as you walked through you see a baby, no older than 1 sitting in a puddle of tears in the armoury his mowhawk eerily similar to your comrade. confusion and alarm passed you looking around but it was silent, not another footstep echoed as you crept closer to the scene. another baby, dressed in too big black clothes, blonde hair sparkling under the lights trying to comfort the other with a similar confused expression.

"what the-" your voice was cut off as you watch another baby come through the doors with a toy in it's mouth and depositing it in front of the baby with the mohawk with a soft hum almost talking to him in a language of their own. though the sobbing baby sniffles and shakes his little head, his lips slightly pouted almost trying to ask for something else. you contemplated calling price but your phone was left in the room and you inwardly cursed, wondering what to do. perhaps it was a hallucination, perhaps some elaborated prank pulled at your expense, you had no idea about.

it just couldn't be, surely not. though the utter disbelief and absurdity didn't stop you from hesitantly calling out their names just in case, needing confirmation it wasn't what you thought it was.

"kyle? johnny? simon?" your brow raised using their first name and you didn't expect any of them to react but their little heads turned to meet yours. eyes wide, heads tilted as you react the same way. maybe it wasn't too late to pull a runner and sleep off the clear drug induced hallucination you were going through

soap come crawling to you, small body surprisingly fast as tears tracked down his cheeks. he babbles something in baby gibberish causing you to bend down a little unsure and confused, gently picking him up in your arms while he quickly settles down against you. his small head relaxing against your shoulder

two more sets of hands whine at your feet, tugging on your sweatpants and you chuckle, raising your brow at gaz and ghost who huffed and stick their arms out wanting to be held just like soap. it was a struggle but you managed to get the three babies in your arms, a soft hum of contentment leaving their lips as they relax against your touch. soap had gotten excited, his tears long dry wondering if he was just manipulating you with his little face to be picked up. the thought made you chuckle, it wouldn't be so far off.

his mouth clamped softly onto your bicep chomping hungrily but before you could've pulled him away simon shrieked and smacked soap's head away resulting in a whine from him and a gentle kiss of appreciation from you.

there was a framed picture of the 141, everyone including you in front the vehicle after the most exhausting mission and deployment in a long time. simon laughed out happily, his small fingers pointing at the frame eagerly only causing soap to giggle and gaz to try and put the picture in mouth making you gently set all three overactive babies down on the sofa while you figured out what to do with them.

it wasn't often you got to say you were ever in this particular situation but you certainly weren't complaining. you can see their small faces in front of you, before the war and the scars and the pain. here, with you right now they're innocent little beings. curious about how the light sparkled above in the ceiling, trying to grab at it. here, they haven't touched a gun barely able to grasp the concept of walking

it makes your heart ache at their curiosity, knowing the pain and trauma they had hone through to come to this point. looking at simon whose face was constantly masked behind his skull balaclava, smiling happily at the tug of war between soap and gaz having instigated it. wondering how much his little heart had to break to make him into the cold stoic man he usually was.

glancing at gaz who usually was more composed and pensive, how carefree he seemed to be now, babbling out at soap who was frowning and rolling his eyes. taking the tug of war seriously as he tried to stand up and shove gaz. his small body collapsing into a pile of giggles from how much fun he was having. how bright johnny's spirit seemed to be, how competitive he was at winning even so small. there was no expectation on him just yet but his little hands worked deftly as he tried to tackle gaz, surprising you with the same way his adult counterpart behaved

either way you treasure every second knowing when tomorrow came, the memories would be forgotten and the guys would be none the wiser. it wouldn't change their past, it wouldn't rewrite their present but for one night you give them all the love you wished they had received in their childhood.

you make sure to make every second count, making sure that the smile never leaves their lips for tonight.

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[moodymelanist]

once bitten (and twice shy)

Merry Christmas, @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk! Tis I, your Secret Santa! I really hope you enjoy this fic and I'm hoping to try and post all of it this week to not keep you waiting too long... but in the meantime, enjoy the first part of this 5+1 that I've been toying around with! 🩷

thank you so much to @acotargiftexchange for putting this amazing event together! I can't wait to see what else is in store this week 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Summary: When Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn take a Christmas vacation, Nesta gets far more than she bargained for with the hot guy staying next door.

(Or 5 times Nesta didn't have time for Cassian, plus 1 time she finally did)

Read on AO3 here!

✷✷✷✷✷ Nesta

1.

When Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie had planned their girls’ trip, Nesta hadn’t exactly known what to expect. Sure, she’d assumed this sleepy, holiday town would look like something out of a winter wonderland, but as Nesta took in the sights, even a Grinch like her was forced to admit her expectations had been exceeded.

“Oh, wow,” Gwyn breathed as they came around the corner to reveal their Airbnb. It was a gorgeous house, fully decked out for the holidays with twinkling lights and a snowman out front to boot, and even Nesta had to admit it looked like something out of a Hallmark movie. The house was two stories and decked out with Christmas decor, from lights wrapped perfectly around the frame and candles glowing in each window. “It’s even prettier than the photos.”

“You sure know how to pick them,” Emerie agreed from the driver’s seat. She carefully pulled into the driveway before putting the car in park, and the three of them took one last moment to enjoy the warmth before they braved the cold December air. “Okay, let’s make this as painless as possible.”

Gwyn went to unlock the front door while Nesta and Emerie grabbed as many bags as they could carry. Thankfully, they weren’t in the cold long, and the house was just as beautiful on the inside as it was out. There were plenty of comfortable couches, picturesque sitting areas, and most importantly, three beds just as advertised. They’d paid a little more so everyone at least had their own queen-sized bed, and Nesta and Emerie would share a bedroom while Gwyn had the primary suite, given how close it was to her birthday.

“Woah,” Nesta said as she walked inside. The owners clearly hadn’t limiting their decorations to the outdoors; there was a giant, fully decked out Christmas tree in the living room, garland wrapped around the bannister on the stairs leading upstairs, and red and white stockings hanging above the fireplace.

“Woah is right,” Emerie agreed as she followed Nesta inside. “This looks like it should be in a magazine.”

“I know,” Gwyn replied, coming downstairs to help them continue unloading. “I’m a little obsessed with it.”

“Only a little?” Nesta asked, nodding at Gwyn’s ugly Christmas sweater. Today’s option was a navy sweater complete with a pattern of her cat’s face on it, and Gwyn clearly had no shame. 

“I am not ashamed of my love of the holidays,” Gwyn told her primly, “or my cat.”

“Maybe you should be,” Nesta fired back, teasing. 

“Just for that, I’m pulling my birthday card,” Gwyn announced, already turning and retreating back upstairs to her room. “Have fun unloading the rest of the car!”

Nesta met Emerie’s eyes and they shared a fond eye roll. “How much is even left?”

“You could probably do it in one trip,” Emerie answered, already backing away with her own bags in hand. “I’m gonna go… unpack my own bags.”

“So much for sisterhood!” Nesta called after Emerie’s retreating back, earning nothing but a loud laugh in return. 

It won’t even be that bad, Nesta told herself as she made sure her coat was zipped all the way up. I’ll do this in one trip if it kills me.

Nesta braved the winter air once again and made her way back to the rental car, breathing a sigh in relief when she realized she could almost certainly make it back to the house in one trip. It might take a little finagling, but it would certainly be doable. She squared her shoulders and started laying out the remaining bags, and she was about to start loading up when a voice broke her concentration. 

“You need any help with that?”

Nesta turned to see one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen in her life standing on the neighboring house’s porch with a playful look on his face. He was wearing a thick, dark green jacket, black jeans, and heavy winter boots, and she could tell he was built even through the multiple layers of clothes he had on. 

“Do I look like I need help?” she eventually said once she’d managed to find her voice. Despite how hot this guy was, she wasn’t going to fall all over herself for him.

“That sounds like a loaded question,” he said back with a lopsided grin, taking a sip of what looked like either coffee or hot chocolate. His eyes looked incredibly green because of his jacket, and they twinkled with his easy smile. “I’m going to go with no.”

“Then why are you offering?” she asked.

He laughed, and damn if that didn’t make her feel things. “Just because you don’t look like you need help doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

“Even if I needed help, why would I accept it from a stranger?” she fired back.

“I’m Cassian,” Cassian said, and then pointed at the house behind him. “My friends and I are staying here for the week. I heard you guys pull up and thought I’d be… neighborly.”

“You wanted to be neighborly, but you’re standing there with your hands full of hot chocolate,” Nesta said back with a roll of her eyes. “Right. Makes perfect sense.”

“Who says I can’t finish my mug and then offer my services?” he retorted, raising said mug in her direction before he took another sip. 

“And what services would those be?” she replied. 

“I’m a physical therapist,” he told her, his grin turning downright sinful. “I’m good with my hands, and you seem pretty… tense.”

Nesta resolutely ignored the way heat was pooling between her thighs at the thought of how good those hands could feel on her. She was Nesta Archeron, Esq. Even if she met someone that managed to hold her interest for longer than a few minutes — without pissing her off, of course — she didn’t have time for relationships, or for flings, or even for removing tension. Her last boyfriend certainly hadn’t been worth the effort she’d put into their relationship, and even if he hadn’t cheated, she still regretted bringing him to one of her firm’s events. He just couldn’t keep up with her; who could?

So Nesta buried her head in her work instead. She still made time for her family and friends, of course — she was on this trip with Gwyn and Emerie, and she’d see Feyre and Elain once she got back — but her degrees weren’t going to up and leave her if they got bored. Her billable hours might not always be exciting, but at least they were consistent. 

“I’m sure you are,” Nesta eventually replied, making sure to keep her voice as bland and disinterested as possible. Judging by the downright gleeful expression on Cassian’s face, she hadn’t exactly been successful, but whatever. It wasn’t like she’d be spending her entire vacation with him. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it.”

“Never doubted that you did,” Cassian said. “But I’ll be here all week if you change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes as she began to finally load up on the bags she’d came out here for in the first place. “I won’t.”

“Who was that?” Gwyn asked when Nesta finally returned inside. She must have been watching from one of the large windows overlooking the porch, and Nesta sighed as whatever thoughts she’d had about keeping that interaction to herself went up in smoke. “You were talking to him for a while.”

“Cassian is staying in the house next door with some of his friends,” Nesta answered. “He said he wanted to be… neighborly. Help me with the bags or whatever.”

“Uh huh,” Gwyn replied with a knowing look. “Is that all he offered?”

“He said he’s a PT, and that I looked tense,” Nesta told her with a roll of her eyes. “Like he’s one to judge. He doesn’t even know me.”

“I can feel you grinding your teeth from here,” Gwyn fired back. “Trust me, you don’t need to be an expert to see you need a break.”

“Which is exactly why we’re here, isn’t it?” Nesta retorted without missing a beat. “Besides, I’d much rather relax with my friends than have my time wasted yet again.”

Nesta was thankfully saved by the bell — literally, as someone was ringing the doorbell to their Airbnb. Nesta and Gwyn exchanged glances before silently deciding to see who was at the door, the two of them looking through the frosted glass to see three people waiting for them on the other side. Cassian’s green coat was clearly visible, and the two others with him must have been the friends he’d mentioned during his conversation with Nesta. 

“Nesta, what the fuck,” Gwyn hissed under her breath. She turned to look at Nesta incredulously. “You didn’t tell me his friends were hot.”

“Who has hot friends?” Emerie asked, finally coming back downstairs at the commotion. 

“Nesta talked to one of our neighbors for the week,” Gwyn answered, “and failed to tell me how hot everyone in that house apparently is!”

“Okay, well let’s not be weird,” Emerie replied slowly, clearly still processing what Gwyn had just shared. “Everybody keep their cool, okay?”

“I’m perfectly cool,” Nesta responded with a roll of her eyes. “And for the record, I didn’t say anything because I only saw Cassian.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Gwyn muttered under her breath, pulling a snicker from Emerie and a scowl from Nesta. “Okay, okay, everyone stay calm. I’m gonna open the door now.”

Gwyn opened the door to reveal Cassian and his two friends — one a blonde woman who was around Nesta’s height, and the other a man who looked so similar to Cassian they could’ve been brothers. The blonde woman lit up at the sight of Emerie, Gwyn, and Nesta , and even Nesta had to admit she was a little underprepared for how much more gorgeous she was with a smile like that on her face. She looked like something out of a winter magazine with her pristine, all-white skiing outfit that somehow managed to show off her curves despite the thick layers of insulation. “Hi neighbors!”

“Hi,” Gwyn replied, her eyes barely resting on the blonde before she openly started ogling her taller, broodier friend. He was dressed in a black peacoat, jeans so dark they nearly looked black, and similar snowboots to Cassian. “How can we help you?”

“Not to be totally weird,” the woman began, her smile turning a little self-deprecating, “but Cassian said you guys were staying here for the week too?” 

“Yup, Nesta mentioned that,” Emerie answered, completely ignoring the daggers Nesta was shooting at the back of her head. “We’re here until Friday. I’m Emerie, by the way.”

“I’m Mor, and this is Azriel,” Mor replied, jerking her head toward Tall, Dark, and Brooding. “Sounds like you already met Cassian.”

“Unfortunately,” Nesta grumbled, extremely unamused when Cassian just grinned like a maniac. What was wrong with him? Most men ran for the hills when she showed them this level of disinterest, but it seemed like that only got him going even more. “You’re very… forward.”

“That’s what they say about me,” Cassian said. “Very forward, and very down to take you to dinner later.”

“Jesus Christ, keep it in your pants,” Mor interjected with a roll of her eyes. Nesta was torn between thanking Mor and wishing she’d given Nesta the chance to verbally eviscerate Cassian, but Nesta got the sense he’d enjoy that, too, so maybe it was for the best that Mor had intervened. “You goddamn frat bro. I’m not trying to scare them off.”

“We are both bisexual, Morrigan,” Cassian quipped back without missing a beat. “I can’t be a frat bro, it violates the rules of nature.”

“Since we’re sharing, I’m straight, Nesta’s bisexual, and Emerie’s lesbian,” Gwyn chimed in with a knowing little smirk. “In case it’s… mhmm, relevant or anything.”

“Very relevant,” Mor said, suddenly looking very much like she wanted to eat Emerie alive. She started playing with the zipper on her jacket just enough to be enticing, and even Nesta had to look away before she got sucked in. “What would you say to coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you over once you’re settled in.”

“I’m a great chef,” Cassian added, winking at Nesta. “Azriel isn’t a half bad bartender, either.”

“I do love cocktails,” Gwyn mused. 

“I could whip up a few things,” Azriel replied, his voice low and deep. “Hope you don’t mind being my taste tester.”

Nesta could feel the moment Gwyn fell — hook, line, and sinker — and had to refrain from releasing a heavy sigh. So much for a girls trip. “That definitely won’t be a problem.”

“So it’s a date, then?” Mor prompted, her eyes lingering on Emerie for a few moments before she turned to look at Nesta expectantly. “Assuming we haven’t already scared you off.”

It felt like everyone was looking at Nesta, as though they’d all mutually decided she was the holdout, and the worst part was they weren’t even wrong. Mor clearly had eyes for Emerie — eyes that were certainly being returned, given how much lower Mor’s zipper had fallen in the last minute or so — and Azriel and Gwyn were locked in some kind of flirtatious staring contest so intense Nesta didn’t even want to look at them. All that left was Cassian eyeing Nesta up like she was a particularly difficult challenge, and the only reason she didn’t visibly bristle was the fact that she could just tell how much he’d enjoy it. 

“Well?” Gwyn said. When Nesta didn’t say anything, she whirled around to look at Nesta with murder in her teal eyes. “What do you say, ladies?”

“I guess we have dinner plans tomorrow,” Nesta said back, somehow managing not to sound too put out about it. 

“Great!” Mor chirped. She reached into her pocket and somehow managed to extricate her phone, unlocking it with a flourish before passing it over to Emerie. “Can I have your number? So we can sort out all the details?”

“Of course,” Emerie replied. She blushed as Mor passed her the phone, and Nesta had to work to suppress her groan as she realized this trip would be anything but relaxing. “Can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Mor told her with a wink. Emerie’s cheeks went pinker the longer Mor stared at her, a fact that clearly delighted her, but Nesta not-so-subtly coughed and forced the conversation to get back on track. “Okay, we’re gonna stop letting all your hot air out. See you ladies tomorrow!”

“Okay, Gwyn was right,” Emerie said the second the door was closed. “Nesta, you could’ve warned us.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[cheesagirl]

Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

I want to read this so much.😅 Please make it happen. 🥹

Satoru x Fem;Reader

Scenario: Listed in request

Warnings: Smut, cussing

Word count: 903 words

Side notes: I am so sorry for how late I was to do this request, I got logged out of my account for like a month :( I hope this somewhat fits what you had in mind and if not IM SORRY. Enjoy my loves, if you have any request or ideas please submit them because I love doing them❤️

You would have laughed if someone told you that you would lose your virginity to THE Satoru Gojo, the king of 'no feelings'- but here you were straddling Satoru's naked figure as he eased his hardened cock inside you. "Doing so good sweets" you hear him mutter under his breath, his hand moving up to grip the back of your neck.

You couldn't help but moan at the feeling of him. The second he had completely filled you to the brim, your back arched and a small whine escaped your parted lips. "Look at you taking me so well baby" he mumbles, forcing you to look down at the sight of him disappearing into your pussy.

"Feels so good" you babble, your head lulling onto his shoulder, earning you a quiet chuckle from Satoru.

"Yeah?" he teases, peppering small kisses onto your head. You nod, moving your hips in small circles, causing Satoru to let out a hoarse groan.

This was a horrible idea. You shouldn't be in this situation with Satoru, but you certainly weren't putting an end to it now. Tomorrow seemed so far away as you heard the lewd sound of skin hitting skin caused by Satoru bouncing you on him, hitting your cervix each time.

"Aww look at your little belly bulge" He cooed, moving his hand from your hip and pressing it against your belly, causing you to whine out in pleasure, to cock drunk to form proper words.

Tomorrow is an eternity away.

You woke up to the sound of running water and your sleepy eyes immediately widened in panic. Fuck, tomorrow was here, and the anxiety hit you like a train.

Gojo was never one to keep his hookups around long. You had heard stories of him sending the girls off in taxis, never bothering to text them afterward and the realization hit you. You were about to be one of those girls, you had given your virginity to a man who was going to send you off in a fucking taxi.

You quickly sit up in the bed, sliding out of it and scavenging for your clothes, and putting them on. You then grab a sticky note and pen from his desk located in the corner of the room and right a quick 'Last night was great, thank you' quickly signing off with a little heart. You were going to rip the band-aid off and leave without being asked, a weak attempt to save your dignity. You snatch your purse from the nightstand and hurry out the front door.

You were exhausted to say the least, you and Satoru had been up all night and the lack of sleep was starting to hit you as you sat on a bench in a park, eyes drooping closed. It was a busy park, children played as their parents conversed, you didn't see any problem in one quick little nap.

Satoru was surprised and even a little butt hurt when he opened the bathroom door to find an empty bed. He knew what people said about him and some of the rumors did have some truth behind them, but you weren't a one-night stand. Satoru adored you, fuck Satoru loved you. He loved your voice, your face, everything. He wasted no time throwing on a coat and rushing out the door, throwing the note he had left him onto the coffee table on the way out.

"Y/n, answer the phone please", He pleads, sending yet another voicemail to your phone. Suddenly the thought hit him, you had mentioned how you loved the park so much ever since you were a little girl. He didn't know for sure if he'd be there, but he was growing desperate, so he eagerly made his way towards the playground.

When he arrived, Satoru instantly furrowed his eyebrows at the sigh of the familiar cost you always wear, hood up, sitting on a bench. 'What the hell' he muttered to himself, quickening his pace towards him. He frowned even more when he saw how red his nose and cheeks were.

"y/n" he says softly, shaking you slightly. "Time to wake up baby," he adds, patting your cold cheek gently.

Your eyes flutter open, squinting in confusion at the sight of the blue-eyed man in front of you.

"Satoru?" you mumble, sitting up quickly. "I don't know what on earth you are thinking about sleeping on a bench y/n" He scolds, helping you stand properly. You were just about to explain yourself when he cuts you off again.

"You're going to catch a cold y/n" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly stressed by the situation.

"I didn't think you'd want me there when you woke up" you mumble, looking down at your feet while anxiously fidgeting with your fingers.

To your surprise, you felt his warm hands cup your cheeks and your face was lifted to where his eyes met yours.

"Oh sweets, I'd never want you to go away," he whispered, his brows knitted together in concern. "I'd have you with me all the time if I could."

You searched his eyes for something--anything to hint at some sort of regret, but what you found was complete and utter adoration for the girl standing in front of him, with her little red cheeks.

"Let me take you out on a proper date y/n-- please

-ˋˏ✄--------------------------------

Thanks for reading babes ❤️

The song lowkey doesn't go with the first part BAHAHA

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

—old habits die hard

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: i know i made you guys wait a lot for this but i wanted it to be perfect and i was really busy but it's finally here now! thank you for the love on the first two parts, i love all of you. happy reading!!!

masterlist with next parts!

"Oh yes! I forgot about the most exciting part. It's your friend, Pedro Pascal."

You're not sure who it's exciting for, because it's certainly not you. Sure, Jon had no idea what had happened between you and Pedro, but you were hoping he did at the time. Because if he did, he wouldn't be gushing about how exciting it is that the two of you are going to collaborate.

You try to hide your dismay and muster up a smile as Jon continues to talk about how great Pedro is. You can't help but wonder how you're going to make it through this project without letting your personal issues with Pedro get in the way of your work and finally driving you into insanity. 

Regardless, you know you have to remain professional and focused. It's just a job.

"Does he know about me?" you hesitantly ask.

"Yeah, he's known for awhile." Jon replies, "We asked him not to mention anything, but I've gotta say I'm surprised he actually didn't."

"I've got to say I'm surprised too."

•••

For the next few weeks, the only thing on your mind was Pedro. You couldn't stop thinking about what he might have said or what he thought when he found out you were going to work together. This war between you and your brain was pretty stupid because you could just call him or send him a quick text.

Hey, guess what? We're finally going to work together! :)

Simple as that.

The problem was that you didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. You weren't the type to hold a grudge over trivial matters, but here you were, silently punishing him for what he did last month.

One of your last shows on the tour was in New York, and as usual, you invited most of your friends. Even though Pedro had been living in London for the last few months, you still sent him a text inviting him. He had taken a flight for other stuff, so it was safe to assume he would make the effort for this as well.

You: Hey! I know you're in London, but my show at MSG is next week, and everyone's coming. I would like for you to come too :)

Pedrito: Hi, my schedule here is pretty tight for next week. I'm sorry. Next time?

You: Bummer. Sure.

Despite your disappointment, you understood the situation perfectly. His work schedule has become quite hectic recently, as he has been traveling and shooting movies in various locations such as Hawaii, Boston, and now London. Your schedules no longer seemed to be in sync, and neither of you made an effort to rearrange your plans to fit the other. 

Those months he spent filming with Oscar in Hawaii were by far the worst. Mostly because they were having fun and you weren't part of it. To put it mildly, the FOMO nearly killed you. The group chat and his Instagram were filled with pictures of them surfing, hiking, and exploring the island while you were miles away alone.  

The night of the show arrived, and everything went smoothly as planned, leaving you with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. That later changed when, backstage, in the midst of winding down, Oscar approached you with a smile, "Too bad Pedro couldn't make it, he would've loved this outfit."

You smile as you look down at your own stage outfit, knowing he'd like it because of its purple color.

"Too bad he's in London," you reply back.

Oscar's face falls slightly as he responds, "London?"

You nod as you chug down the last of your water bottle.

"No, he got here days ago," he says, huffing a laugh. "I called him so we could ride together, but he never answered. I figured I would run into him here."

"Oh."

Oscar's expression is slightly puzzled, as if he's trying to connect the dots between the two statements. "Is everything okay between you guys?"

You wanted to lie so bad; say yes and play it cool. After all, that's what you two have been doing for the past nine months: playing pretend. But this whole exchange has caught you off guard, and you're not sure if you want to continue with the facade or finally be honest about the situation.

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

For days, you tried to brush it off and convince yourself that it was no big deal, but deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and hurt. He had been there and chose not to go. Not even a call or text to explain or apologize. Nothing.

So, no. You weren't going to text him first, were you?

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

If somebody had told Pedro three years ago that he would be starring as a bounty-hunting badass in a signature Star Wars series, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, about to start the table read for the first episode of The Mandalorian, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as he waited to see how his character would come to life on screen.

It was a pinch-me moment. He had come a long way since his early days as a struggling actor, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work with such talented people on a project that was sure to be groundbreaking. As he looked around the room at his fellow cast members and crew, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Until his eyes landed on you.

He then felt shame and guilt for how he handled things a month before. He knows he fucked up. You're sitting across from him, the heavy, discerning quality of your gaze sending shivers down his spine. It's as if you're peering right through him, past the gleaming politeness to the rough edges beneath. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Your expression says, "Wipe that smile off your face. There's nothing to be happy about."

He was convincing himself that he didn't exactly know what drove him not to tell you the truth about his availability. Except he did. His time away from you had allowed him to get you out of his system, and he didn't want to fall back down the maybe-I-have-feelings-for you rabbit hole again. So in true Pedro fashion, he avoided it.

He knew he'd be back in New York for your concert when you texted him. Yet he boldly lied. And it bit him in the ass.

He couldn't throw away all the progress the two of you had made, so he knew he had to make amends for his behavior before it was too late. He made a mental note to talk to you after the reading was over.

•••

The reading was over in what seemed like an eyeblink. You were so thrilled to be part of this, and even given everything that has happened between you two, you would be lying if you said you weren't happy you're doing this with him.

Though you weren't doing a particularly good job of displaying it. You barely talked to him when you got here, quickly exchanging hellos and moving on to something else.

You were settling into your trailer with your agent, going over some details, when you heard a knock. Your agent quickly rises to unlock the door as you continue to put some of your things in a drawer. When the door opens, you hear him before you see him. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!"

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and you can't either. A smile formed on your lips as you closed the drawer before collecting yourself and remembering that you were really mad at him.

"Pedro, long time no see!" she says as they hug and exchange pleasantries.

Taylor looks my way. "I am going to get some of those snacks we saw earlier," she says, "I'll be back in a bit."

As she exits the trailer, you make your way to the door. Pedro is standing there, dressed in a black sweatshirt, olive green trousers, and white sneakers, which you can only describe as attractive.

Needless to say, he was making it difficult for you to hate him right now.

•••

Pedro's mind goes completely blank when he sees you; it's as if he has forgotten everything else around him and all he can focus on is you, making it hard for him to form coherent sentences.

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

"Is that why you came here?" you inquire, "to tell me my hair's pretty?"

"No, I came here to apologize," he replies back as he steps into the trailer and closes the door behind him. He watches you sit on the edge of the sofa that adorned the room, hands on each side of you, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I just wanted to make things right, kid."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last person in the world I want to upset. That would be, like, devastating."

"Hmm," you hum, a blank expression on your face, "you're not doing a very good job at it."

Pedro couldn't help but smirk at your jab, "Clearly. You looked like you were plotting my murder in there."

"Oh, I already know where I'm going to hide your body."

His laugh fills the room, and your face softens. He began walking towards the couch, and you both slumped back into it at the same time. "It's nothing really; I'm over it," you say, staring at the wall.

Pedro tilts his head to look at you, "When will you learn that you're so bad at lying that it's not worth even trying?"

You face him, your beautiful eyes catching him off guard. "This is the worst apology ever, by the way."

"I know, princesa," he says softly. "But I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't go, and I'm sorry it took me this long to apologize."

You slowly nod, your face displaying a hint of uncertainty. As if you're trying to figure out whether he's sincere or not, which he wishes you didn't have to even wonder about. "It's okay if you didn't want to go; I just wish you would've said that instead of lying and making me look like an idiot, P."

No, no, no. I wanted to go, but I'm a fucking coward.

Your words pierced him like a dagger, and the pang of guilt washed over him again. He's been drowning in it for the past few weeks, but to actually hear the disappointment in your voice is a completely different beast.

Before he could even muster up a response, you speak again, "But I forgive you."

Pedro's breathing slowed down as you placed a hand on his thigh, and he heard those words. He reciprocated the gesture and then put his hand over yours, gripping it softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he says, "because now we can properly freak out about this," excitement overflowing through him as he couldn't keep it in anymore.

He needed to share this with you. When the creators of the show approached him, you were the first person that came to his mind. One of the things you've always wanted to be part of was Star Wars, so he knew you would be jealous to find out he was cast in this and couldn't wait to give you a hard time, just like Oscar did when he got the role of Poe.

That plan quickly fell apart when the creators revealed they were bringing you aboard, and even though it meant he couldn't torture you any longer, he was overjoyed you were going to be by his side in this.

“You must be ecstatic,” you tell him, your hands still connected, "this is a big deal."

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

"I did," you attempt to correct yourself, but it’s too late. Pedro has already saved the words for later in his mind. "I mean, we did! We all did. Your friends, I mean. We knew things were only going to get better for you. Even before I met you, I knew you were going to do great things. Sarah talked about it all the time, too, and we're pretty sure this is only the beginning."

He's stunned at the rambling explanation of your thoughts about his rising career. He looks at you with gratitude in his eyes, feeling fortunate to have supportive people like you in his life who believe in him.

The lack of hesitation in your voice did the opposite of what your words had done; it cooled down the hope that had lit up like a flame in his chest.

"Now, come on, let's find Taylor and those snacks," you tell him as you rise up from the couch and extend your hand to him, "I'm hungry, and we still have costume fittings," you add. He puts his hand in yours, restraining himself and letting you struggle to pull him up as you try your hardest to do so.

"You asshole!" you yell, tightening your grip on his hand, "Stop that and get up!"

He can't stop laughing as you finally manage to pull him up. "you need to work on your strength, baby," he says between chuckles.

You scoff and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "My strength is fine, thank you."

"Ow! Who's the asshole now?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder.

“And don't call me baby,” you tell him. "I forgave you, but that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"I don't think it works that way, baby."

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

The next two months were amazing, to say the least. It's as if all the two of you needed was to work together on a TV series to realize how much you needed to be together. Just like your on-screen characters, you two were tied to work together by a third thing, that thing being, of course, the child.

Speaking of the child, you were obsessed with it. You couldn't believe a green, Yoda-like animatronic puppet could win your heart in such a short period of time, but here you were. It was magical. Truth be told, everything about The Mandalorian was magical.

Every day you had to step on that immaculate set that's built and surrounded by volume, which creates an infinite sort of visual experience in terms of skies, planets, space, ships, and all kinds of things, was magical.

It just felt like you were stepping onto these highly sophisticated amusement park rides, with very little being left to the imagination because of how incredible the design work is from all the departments.

Another magical thing was seeing Pedro bring the character to life. His ability to convey so much depth and complexity to a character that is mostly hidden behind a mask is truly impressive. From crafting his "Mandalorian" walk and stance to his deep, jarring voice.

That voice.

That voice was made to torture you and send shivers down your spine. That voice made you forget all of your life's problems. Actually, that voice was made for one thing and one thing only, the bedroom.

"Oh my god, it doesn't sound like a bedroom voice!" he protested, as he highlighted lines in his script.

You were joining him and the creators in the recording booth for his voiceover session.

"It does! It's a sexy bedroom voice." you teased, making everyone laugh. "That's not very Disney of you, P." 

He gets closer to the mic and whispers, voice altered because of the modulator, "Bite me."

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

You were having as much fun as you could. Simply put, you two were menaces on set.

You could tell Jon, Dave, and the rest of the crew were patient with your antics, but it was clear that they were also entertained by your on-set dynamic. It's not everyday that you get to work with your best friend, and you two made it everyone's problem.

Although sometimes you have to admit you take it a little too far.

"Catch me if you can, Boba Fett wannabe!" you scream.

Pedro was chasing you through the set with a prop sword, trying to get you to stop teasing him about his costume. "You are one insult away from getting a taste of this sword!"

"Okay, tin can man!"

You were running away from him as fast as you could, hoping to find a place to hide before he caught up with you. You quickly hide behind one of the makeup trailers and peek out to see him come to a stop, catching his breath. He was wearing his Beskar getup, minus the helmet.

“Give up yet, old man?"

He laughs. "We're being extra cruel today, huh?"

Taking advantage of his momentary pause and facing away from where you were hiding, you slowly inch closer to him, trying not to make a sound. As you get within arm's reach, you draw one of your prop knives from your costume pocket and hold it to his back. Using your free hand to hold him steady, you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

He turns his head slightly, and you can see the smirk on his face. "That's my line, thief."

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He takes hold of you and tightens his grasp on your waist. "Let me go, P!"

You struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. "I am going to squeeze you so hard you will fart," he chuckles.

You snort. "You have such a way with words."

As you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you accidentally elbow him in the face, causing him to release his hold on you and stumble into a piece of plywood that had been propped up.  

"Aw, fuck!" he cries out, clutching his nose.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" you rush to him, cupping his face. "Are you hurt?"

He removes his hand from his nose, revealing a cut and a trickle of blood. "It's alright, just a bloody nose," he says calmly.

You touch his nose gingerly, and he winces in pain. "Nevermind, I think it is broken."

•••

You begged Jon to let you ride to the hospital with them; after all, this was your fault. When you get there, the doctors rush to Pedro's side and begin examining him.

If you weren't preoccupied with being mortified over this, you'd laugh.

The scene before you is straight out of a sitcom, with Jon frantically explaining the situation to the doctors, Pedro in full costume with fake injuries and blood that you were pretty sure the doctors thought were real, and you standing there with an expression that screamed: Hey! It's me! I did this!

After a couple of minutes of clearing up that it was an accident and that the blood coming out of his ears was fake and not the cause of a brain hemorrhage, one of the doctors led us to a room to examine his nose.

"It's not broken," the doctor said, as she prepared to clean the wound. "He's just going to need a couple of stitches."

"Oh great, we still need to finish a scene, and they're waiting for us." Jon replies.

"This will take 15 minutes, tops," she says, grabbing a tray of medical supplies. “I will be fast.” 

"I'll call the guys," Jon tells you as he exits the room.

You nod in agreement and stand in a corner as you silently watch the doctor carefully clean, anesthetize and stitch up the wound. You feel relieved that it wasn't anything more serious. 

After she finishes, Pedro thanks her, and she nods with a smile. "You're going to need to take some analgesics for the pain. I'm gonna go grab my prescription pad. I'll be right back."

She exits the room, and you walk over to Pedro. He moves his head slightly, showing off his nose.

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe I ruined your perfect nose."

"Who said it isn't perfect still?" he says it as if it were a challenge. His brow is arched, with the tiniest smirk hidden in one corner of his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm mortified."

"Tranquila, princesa. I said it was okay after you apologized 20 times on our way here," he reassures you. "Plus, now we have a funny story to tell during our press tour next year."

You sigh. "I guess you're right."

"You know," he says, "what hurts right now is that today is our last day of shooting. I can't believe it's been two months already. Time fucking flew."

Your heart sinks as you're once again reminded that this amazing experience is coming to an end. The day you've been dreading for weeks is finally here, and you're not ready to say goodbye. It's not like you already know you'll be back next year for the next season, but you're not ready to say goodbye to him and the daily routine you've formed, which mostly consists of breakfasts together, long hours on set, and late-night movie marathons. 

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about it," you muttered, "gonna miss our little routine."

Pedro studies you. "Maybe we can extend it for a little while longer."

Not knowing where this is going, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Pedro smiles, "I..I was thinking maybe... maybe you could come with me to Chile for Christmas with the family." 

Your heart skips a beat as you process Pedro's words. You open your mouth slightly to say something, but you close it again, momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation. 

"Uh… I know you probably have plans with your family,” he interjects, “but I thought this would be a good time for you to finally meet my father and the rest of the family, and—" 

Before he could finish, you nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending Christmas in Chile with Pedro and his family, “Yes, I would love to." 

You've never seen him smile as broadly as he does now, and you know that you have made the right decision. 

New York City

December 15, 2018

“Dude, he invited you to his hometown with his family, and you still think that man has no feelings for you?” 

“Taylor...” you paused, picking up a clothing item that had fallen to the floor. “It's just a friendly gesture.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he invites everyone to his hometown to spend the holidays with his family. Sureee.” 

You didn't want to go there; you'd promised yourself that you wouldn't get entangled in what ifs, so your friend's teasing wasn't helping you keep those thoughts at bay. 

“I told you, he doesn't like me like that. I know he doesn't,” you say, suddenly remembering that night when you overheard him telling Sarah how he felt about you. “Plus, as my agent, you more than anyone know I can't do relationships right now; my life's too busy." 

Taylor finished zipping up the last of your bags for the trip and gave you a reassuring smile. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little fun, does it? And who knows—maybe he has changed his mind. Just enjoy the trip and have fun." 

No, he hasn’t changed his mind. 

“Yeah, I just want to have a good time, really. Things have been so good between us these past couple of months, It just feels...right again. I don’t wanna mess it up.” 

"Understandable, bestie. However, I think you’re both making a huge mistake.” 

You shake your head in amusement. “Thanks for helping me pack.” 

“Thanks?” she scoffs. "I'm expecting a raise." 

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

After the chaos of the day leading up to the flight, it was actually a relief to be sitting here. The large, comfortable seat, with your feet tucked up under you as you gazed out the jet window, felt very much deserved.  

While the gentle buzz of the flight filled your ears, you laid your head against the window of the plane and watched the clouds and the seemingly endless expanse of sky fly by.

As you began to drift off, you did your best to keep your attention on what was outside the plane rather than allowing your mind to wander to what would await you once you arrived at your destination. The mixture of excitement and exhaustion lulled you into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the journey that lay ahead. 

•••

The taxi ride from the airport to the Balmaceda-Pascal's was a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds, but you couldn't help feeling a sense of wonder and curiosity as you took in the new surroundings. As the car comes to a stop in front of the house, you shoot Pedro a quick text. 

You: I'm here, tonto. 

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta. 

Since you still had a few things to attend to in New York, he had arrived two days earlier. After insisting like a madman that he could pick you up from the airport and you insisting like a madwoman that you could easily get there on your own, he gave up and let you take a cab. 

The driver has already gotten out of the car to wrestle the luggage from the trunk. You clamber out after him into the brilliant sunlight, the heat instantly making your travel outfit—which consisted of a pair of black leggings, a sweatshirt, and Pedro's Freaky Tales green hoodie—feel suffocatingly thick. The change in temperature is a shock to your system, having just come from New York's freezing climate. 

“Hey you!” Pedro's booming voice interrupts your thoughts, “Nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?” 

“Um, someone left it at my place a while ago, and I decided to keep it. It's really comfy.” 

Pedro smiles and nods, "It suits you. You should wear it more often." 

“Thanks, but not here,” you tell him, your face flushing from the heat. ”It's burning hot."  

“Welcome to Chile, where it's scorching hot during the winter and freezing cold during the summer,” he says in a joking tone, as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Let's get inside, it's cooler.”  

The moment you stepped into the house, you were greeted by a refreshing blast of air conditioning. The house was lovely. You take in the Mediterranean decor style and the large windows that let in natural light as you look around. On either side of the foyer, stone archways lined the way up two stories to an ornate ceiling.

As you make your way to the living room, you catch a glimpse of the various family pictures that adorn the walls. The living room was spacious and inviting, with plush couches and a fireplace that made you feel right at home. 

Dropping your bags next to the stairs that led to the second floor, Pedro places a hand in your back and gestures you towards a hallway, “C'mon, everyone is out back.” 

At the back of the house, tangled trees press close, the forest extending as far as you can see, and off to the left, in the meadow, a gazebo adorned with wild grapes stands within a smaller thicket of trees. Bright glass-shard wind chimes and cutesy bird feeders swing in the branches, and the path cuts past a row of flowering bushes before curving onto a footbridge and then disappearing into the mountains on the far side. 

It's like something out of a storybook. Charming, picturesque, and perfect. 

“You're here!” A familiar voice drew your attention back to earth. “And right on time. How was your flight?” 

Pedro's sister, Javiera, lit up with a smile as she hugged you tightly. You returned the embrace, grateful for her warm welcome. "It was long, but good nonetheless," you replied with a smile.  

“Well, if it isn't the infamous best friend I keep hearing about?” you turned around to see Pedro's father approach you with a friendly smile on his face. 

"Yup, that's me," you reply, extending your hand for a handshake. 

"I'm glad to finally meet you," he says, shaking your hand. "Pedro talks about you all the time."

“I hope good things,” you chuckle, “and it's great to finally meet you too, Mr. Balmaceda.” 

“Oh, please call me José,” he tells you, waving his hands. Just like his son, you notice that José has a warm and welcoming personality, making you feel at ease. “And please, make yourself feel at home; we're thrilled to have you.” 

“No, he's thrilled to have a world famous superstar staying at his house,” Nicolás, Pedro's brother, retorts back at his father. Making everyone laugh and leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Oh, I don't know about being a superstar," you say lowly. 

“Are you kidding?" Nicolás cuts you off as he takes a seat, "Don't be modest. It's literally an honor to have you here." 

“Yeah, you're sooo cool,” Javiera's older son added. 

"Okay, alright, that's enough." Javiera must have noticed your embarrassed expression. She reached out to you and held you by the shoulders, reassuring you. “Let's not overwhelm her with too much praise. Let's give her some space, she must be tired." 

And she was right. The almost 12 hour flight has left you feeling exhausted, jet lagged, and in need of a very long nap. 

"Vamos princesa, I'll take you to your room." Pedro turned around and led the way towards the room while you followed him closely, trying to keep your eyes open and fighting the urge to just collapse on the floor. 

As you reached the second floor, your attention was drawn back to the house. “This place is so gorgeous, P.” 

“We got it a couple of years ago. We wanted something a little bit bigger so we could have everyone over for vacations, and we also wanted something that felt like home, you know?” 

“I love it,” you tell him.  

“This is your room,” he says, jerking his chin at the door on the right, “and this is mine.” 

He opens the door to the room on the left. His room, much like mine, is absolutely huge. The bed is along the wall immediately to your right as you enter, a recklessly comfortable looking king size bed doused under the weight of a fluffy duvet and an insane amount of pillows.

The bedding is bright white and contrasts sharply with the dark wooden floorboards. "Your bed looks like a big fluffy cloud," you say, giggling. 

"It feels like one," he says, smiling. He can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes,"Go on, I know you want to." 

Like a little kid, you start running towards the bed, feeling the softness of the plush carpet under your feet. As you sink into the bed, you realize that it's even more comfortable than it looks, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. 

“P, I’m never moving again,” you say, your voice drifting over to him. 

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

“Hmm, why exactly?” you turn over onto your stomach and lean against your elbows to face him. 

"Because it's my bed," he simply states, "and I have plenty of plans that don't include you spending the entire trip in my bed."  

Bravery takes over, and you give him a playful smirk. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure those plans change then."

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

You know this is cruel. You were torturing yourself. Being so optimistic was cruel, but because of your longing and deep, hidden desires, you couldn't help but indulge in silly fantasies and play along. 

“Alright, I'll go to mine,” you say with a forced smile as you get off the bed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I need to nap right now, or I'll die.” 

“I will, uh, come get you for dinner later.” 

“Sure, boss,” you tell him, patting him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the room.  

“Sweet dreams.” 

In the past four days, you've learned many things.

First, Chile was sickeningly beautiful. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the breathtaking scenery of the Andes Mountains made you feel like you were in a dream. It spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt, with each square representing a different aspect of its culture and history. From the bustling city streets to the serene beaches.

The food was also a highlight, and you're pretty sure you gained a few pounds from indulging in the delicious local cuisine.

“Here, try this one.”

“That's the biggest empanada I've ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed as you took a bite of the savory pastry, filled with juicy meat and vegetables. “This is so fucking good.”

Pedro chuckles. “It's filled with a mixture called Pino.” 

“Okay, forget the manjar. This,” you say, mouth full, “is my new favorite thing in this country.” 

Pedro gasps. “I thought I was your favorite thing in this country.” 

You grin and give him a playful nudge. "Okay, fine. You're still my favorite, but this empanada might take the top spot."  

“That's better,”  you look up at him, trying not to melt then and there at the signature wide grin spread across Pedro's gorgeous face. “But you know, there's still plenty of time for me to prove that I deserve the top spot.” 

You chuckle at his remark, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We'll see about that, Pascal," you reply, taking another bite of the delicious empanada and secretly hoping he succeeds in his mission. 

•••

Second, Pedro's family were the warmest hosts you could have imagined, eager to share their traditions and stories with you. They accepted you as one of their own and made you feel like a member of the family.

They took you on various adventures throughout the city, showing you hidden gems that only locals knew about. The tradition of taking a trip to a hiking site outside the city whenever all of them got together was in motion and this year it was the Valley of the Moon's turn.

“That hike was so worth it, guys," Nico says, a little out of breath from climbing up the steep trail. 

Damn right, it was. As you're standing atop a giant sand dune, you're bewildered by what you're witnessing. The view as the sun slips below the horizon is out of this world. The ring of volcanoes and surreal lunar landscapes of the valley are suddenly suffused with intense purples, pinks, and golds. It's the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen. 

You quickly grab the camera that's hanging around your neck and start taking pictures, trying to capture the breathtaking moment before it fades away. “Guys, get together!” you shout, “A family photo with this stunning backdrop is a must.”  

As you finish taking the pictures, Pedro's voice breaks the silence, “Javi, grab the camera and take one of us, please.” 

You comply and hand the camera to her. Pedro sneaks a hand around your waist and pulls you close, “Smile, princesa.” 

“Don't tell me what to do,"  you playfully retort, leaning into him and smiling for the camera. 

•••

And third, Pedro has always had a thing for theatrics. Today, some of you decided to take a trip to the beach. The heat was unbearable, and the cool ocean water sounded like the perfect way to beat it.  

He would often come out of the ocean dramatically, splashing water all around and pretending to be a sea monster to scare his nephews. As soon as he saw the waves, he ran towards them and jumped into the water with a loud roar. His nephews laughed and cheered him on as he swam towards them, pretending to be a giant creature ready to attack. 

After spending most of the day in the water, you were sitting down on the sand, attempting to make sand castles with one of Pedro's cousins. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, making you feel relaxed. “My god, he's like a kid,” you tell her, looking at Pedro as he continued to play with his nephews, now closer to the shore. 

She laughs. “He's always been like this. As a child, he was always playful and energetic, and he never lost that spirit as he grew up. It's one of the many things we love about him."

The sandcastle you were working on was slowly starting to take shape. Pedro's cousin continued to build it and tell you stories about him, letting nostalgia wash over you.

She told you about his grandfather and how he used to take them to watch double features of old movies, and how that heavily influenced Pedro's love for storytelling and cinema. You didn’t know him then, and you'll never understand why it feels like you did. “But you know, one of my absolute favorite memories is when he recited Hamlet here on the beach with Grandpa." 

“Actually, it was Death of a Salesman, cousin.”  

His voice startles you as you turn to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that day," he continued as he lowered himself onto the sand behind you, legs on each side of your body. He places a hand on your thigh for a brief moment as he settles behind you before removing it.

You want nothing more than to reach out and put his hand back on you, to insist he keep touching you but you don’t. 

He starts helping you with the sandcastle, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel his familiar warmth spread through your body. Droplets of water from his hair fall onto your warm skin, and the small elephant tattoo on his right inner thigh catches your eye as he reaches for a shovel,  "I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it but lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the States.” 

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.” 

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I can reenact it for you.” 

“Please do.”  

•••

Pedro suggested you two go outside and stargaze with a glass of wine after returning from the beach. The evening summer breeze was much cooler than the daytime breeze. You were both sitting on the back porch, leaning back on the cushioned chair, the wooden floor creaking under your weight.

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”  

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pedrito?”

You can't help but stare as Pedro throws back his head, a bellowing laugh escaping him into the quiet night air. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if that means another bottle of wine, then so be it." 

He reaches for your glass, hands touching briefly, and pours you some more. Even in the dark, the blinding white of his smile and the twinkle in those achingly beautiful brown eyes are impossible to miss.

With the moon low in the sky, his silhouette was even clearer to you: the way the bridge of his nose dips into the top of the large glass, the delicate hold of his fingers on the stem, and the mess of his hair.

Cicadas screamed into the night air as the taste of the rich, velvety wine danced on your tongue. Now, slightly tipsy on the red wine, you were nearly too lost in your memory of the moment to notice that Pedro had turned his head from above to look at you. Clearly, your staring had captured his attention, but you went to stare resolutely at the night sky again. 

He sobered quickly, but his eyes never left you. You felt the weight of his lingering stare and were thankful that the darkness of the night and warmth of the fire covered your suddenly flushed cheeks. “Excited for Christmas tomorrow?” you ask softly, trying to break the tension with a light-hearted question. 

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile, "but I'm more excited that you get to spend it with us."

A warmth filled your chest, and if your cheeks weren't already blushing already, they certainly were now, but you wouldn’t look away from him. The meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Thank you for inviting me, really. I thought I was going to be sad, but you guys have made me feel at home." 

Pedro frowns. “What do you mean? About being sad.”  

“I kind of hate this season now because it reminds me how lonely I am,” you chuckle, gripping the wine glass slightly tighter. “And don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends, but after you spend years with someone, Christmas just feels different without them around, you know? It's like...” you trail off, trying to put into words the feeling of emptiness that lingers within you. “Like there's a void that can't be filled no matter how many people are around you. And-and it's not like I miss that person in particular, I just miss having someone.” 

His unblinking eyes hadn’t left yours, and you continued, feeling vulnerable but also relieved to finally get that out of your system. “I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s just a reminder that things change. you meet people and you love them, and then you lose them. It's inevitable, and it happens to everyone.” 

It falls quiet between you again, the familiarity of the years of friendship meaning you are both comfortable with it. The weight of what you just said still hangs heavy in the air until he nods slowly, breaking the silence. “I get it. I feel the same way somehow,” you tear your eyes away from the constellations above to stare at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow telling him to elaborate. 

He huffs out a laugh, as if he's amused by your confusion or embarrassed by his own vulnerability, and continues, “I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't date. I'm saving myself from that.”

“Yeah, I guess now I am too,” you respond, nodding in understanding.

"Also, not to sound like an arrogant asshole—" 

“Which you probably will anyway,” you add in a playful tone. 

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he says mockingly. “But my schedule is busy, if I wanna be involved in something, I want to pay attention to it and nurture it. It takes energy to be with someone.” 

“It's not arrogant, it's the truth. I was telling Taylor the same thing the other day,” you tell him. “I can't date because I don't have the time to, but...” 

“But what?” Pedro interrupts. 

“Don't rush me, dude,” you chuckle. “But I'm also human, and I have needs sometimes, and it sucks that I can't just go to a bar like a regular person and sit on the barstool, have a drink, and wait for someone to approach me so we can go to their place and have sex and forget about it the next morning,” you finally admit, staring down at your finger swirling over the rim of your glass. 

“No strings attached," he adds, his voice scratchy. “I, um, ha. I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.”

“Hooking up with someone like that in our world would involve lots of NDAs,” you say, laughing. 

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.” 

His eyes were doing the thing, the Pedro thing, and you did your best to ignore the way your heart lurched. The moment was charged with tension, and you both knew that there was more to say, and since neither of you dared to break the silence, someone else decided to break it for you, clearing their throat loudly and making you both jump. You turn to see Javiera standing by the door, looking amused and a little bit smug. 

"I just wanted to let you guys know the rest of us are going out for dinner, in case you're interested in joining us," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Uh, no. Thanks, I'm beat. The wine has made me sleepy.” 

“I'm gonna have to pass too, sis,” Pedro tells her. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah, you too,” she says with a sly smile. “We'll be back late!” 

After she leaves, you stand up and stretch your arms, feeling the effects of the wine yourself. “Woah. Too much wine,” you chuckle. “I should head to bed now before I regret it in the morning.”

“Me too,” he breathes out as he gets up, collecting his glass and yours. "Goodnight, princesa," he adds with a smile before you head towards the door. “Goodnight, P.” 

•••

As soon as you entered your room, you immediately hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the exhaustion from the day and also the dirty thoughts that had been lurking in your mind.

The warm water cascading down your body helped ease the tension in your muscles, and you let out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, you stepped out and changed into fresh clothes. 

As you lie in bed, the conversation you had an hour before with Pedro seems to replay in your mind. 

I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cross that line again. The last time you took that black, bold line and made it gray, it came with consequences. But you're not known for making the best decisions when it comes to these matters anyway. 

You start to feel anxious and restless, unable to quiet your thoughts or fall asleep.

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

As you walk out of the bedroom, everything is dark, meaning everyone is still out for dinner. You have only the soft glow of the city outside the large windows to guide your way. 

Hesitating as you walk through the hallway towards the stairs, you slow your steps, not entirely trusting your eyes to keep you from running into anything in the dark, unfamiliar space in such low light. Before you reach the stairs, you notice the light underneath Pedro's room, casting a faint glow onto the hallway carpet.

He's still up, you thought. 

Before you even realized what you were doing, you were heading toward his room. 

“Pedro?” you call out his name as you gently knock on the door, “You up?”

“Bathroom! Come in!”  he screams. You reach the doorknob and push it open. The sound of water running fills your ears as you step inside. You plop down sideways on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and wait for him to finish his shower. The chilly night air seeps in through the slightly open door of his balcony, making you shiver. 

“Can't sleep?” His voice is soft and soothing as he walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing only black boxers. You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the way just looking at his face, with his golden skin from all the sun exposure, the shadow of dark scruff on his cheeks, and his brown eyes crinkled by a soft smile, makes your heart race. 

“Nope,” you mumble. “Too much on my mind, I guess.” 

“Enlighten me, please,” he quickly replies, returning to the bathroom. You get off the bed, take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself, but the sight of him in those boxers makes it difficult. You know that if you start talking about what's really on your mind, things might get even more complicated between the two of you. 

“Uh...” you huffed out a laugh as the scenario played in your head, your legs almost giving out as you felt your guts twisting. Your mouth fell slightly agape as he stepped back into the room, “What's so funny?” he inquired. You fidget with your fingers and look at him, still chuckling a bit, “That conversation we had earlier. I can't stop thinking about it," 

Pedro leaned against the bathroom door, his face puzzled, reflecting that he had no idea which of the many conversations you two had today you were referring to. “The one about hooking up, I mean. And how you wish you could do that too," you continue, not bothering to try and hide the small beginnings of a smile from Pedro's watchful gaze, entirely more interested in testing the waters than anything else.

“Oh?” is all Pedro gives by way of a reply, not that you mind much since that works just as well as a real answer theoretically could. “Oh," you confirm. This could go either way, but as of right now, you're willing to take the risk. 

His gaze is fixed on you, and you go back to lying on the bed, closing your eyes as if you're bracing for the impact of the unknown. “I was wondering if—and I might be making a complete fool of myself by saying this—but what if...” you trail off. "What if we..?” you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, suddenly realizing that once you say it, you can't take it back. 

“Fucked?” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open, surprised by his bluntness. You sit up on the bed, heart racing as you try to gather the courage to speak. “I mean, we-we know each other, and we're both horny, and we wouldn't have to sign any NDAs,” you joke, trying to lift the weight off the air.  

"That's true," Pedro quips quickly, though any hint of eagerness in his reply is tempered by the softness of his voice. You feel the blush that rises in your cheeks at the implication in his words and you look away, seemingly breaking the trance you’ve been in. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

“Would you rather have me say no?” he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans one shoulder into the doorframe and deciding that for now he’ll stay where he is, knowing he looks like a smug jerk but unable to help himself. 

“No!” you tell him, rather eagerly. “I mean, of course you can say no. We don't have to do this if you're not into it,” you add softly. 

He says your name and looks into your eyes, "My answer's yes.”

“Okay, but I have some rules,” you get off the bed, body tensed with anticipation. “Of course you do,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrow and giving you a knowing smile. 

“No feelings. This can only happen while we're here. Once we go back to our normal lives, this never happened,” you tell him. He nods, taking a slow step forward and then another, and although there’s still a great deal of space between the two of you, you can feel the tension building. "Also, we can't tell anybody about this, not even our closest friends,” you continue.

He's closer now, feeling his breath on your face, and his hands find their way to your waist. "It's our little secret," he whispers, and you grab his shoulders to steady yourself.

“And no nicknames. No princesa, no baby, no love,” you try to sound stern but your voice betrays the excitement you feel. 

He grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But there's no fun in that.” 

“Fine. You can call me whatever you want,” you give in, finding his amusement endearing.  

“Well, that was easy,” he chuckles, his grin widening. “Are you done with your rules?” 

“Yes, I guess so,” you stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so easily swayed by his charm. 

“Good,” he says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “So I can start doing this,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your pajama shorts, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. "And this," he adds, as his lips press against your neck. 

When you finally make yourself let go and stop fighting for some false sense of restraint for even one second longer, you notice that something changes in the way Pedro touches you, as if he's more confident and sure of himself.

His free hand moves up to hold the back of your head to hold you in place. You do the same, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders for support. The tip of his finger under your shorts traces over where you’re slick and too ready for him. His mouth is tantalizingly close to yours, brown eyes staring into yours, pining and desperately waiting. “Can I?” he asks. 

It's humorous and sweet even that he's asking permission to kiss you when one of his hands is already under your pants. Every rational thought disappears, and you crush your mouth against his. 

Everything is slow and heavy, and he never lets his finger slide into you even when you silently beg for it. Just dragging it over and back—too little and too much all at the same time.

He presses the pad of his finger into your clit, and you have to break away from his mouth to groan, overwhelmed, knees wobbly. Pedro laughs quietly and nuzzles against your neck so his beard scruffs. 

“Mi princesa,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly, “you make such pretty sounds." 

There is a real chance you could spontaneously combust into flames just from the sound of his voice and his sweet nothings. He continues to draw circles on your clit making you moan and writhe in pleasure, feeling like you're about to explode with ecstasy. As he whispers more sweet words in your ear, you can't help but surrender to the intense sensations he's giving you.  

“Is that good?” he asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes," you whisper, a hand traveling to his hair, tugging it tightly. “Yes.” 

Just when you're about to come undone, he suddenly stops. Your eyes quickly find his for some explanations as to why he decided to put on hold the very satisfying and impending orgasm that was building up within you. “Oops,” he simply states, a grin plastered on his face.  

“I fucking hate you,” you whine, pulling away from him. “I was so close! What you do that for?”

"I have some rules, too."

“Now?” you ask him, clearly frustrated with his antics. “Well, go on.” 

“Actually, it's just one,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrows and giving you a knowing smile. His reaction is met by narrowed eyes, like you’re making sure to watch him closely until you figure out where exactly he’s going with this. "You do as I say. Which also means you come when I say." 

“Sounds—” you're regaining your footing, regaining control over yourself, trying to reinstate some power, but the way he just said those words has taken away any sense of authority you thought you had. His voice is commanding, with no room for compromise or disobedience. “Sounds dangerous, but... alright.” 

“Good girl, now get on the bed,” he says, and the timbre of his voice nearly kills you then and there, the dropping pitch making the words come out rough and serious. Pedro still sounds like himself, since his normal voice is more than enough to make you a little weak at the knees on a regular day, this new variant is a completely different monster. 

You lay there, waiting for his next instruction, as the shadows danced on the walls and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. Once he reaches the bed and fists his hands in the sheets on either side of your thighs, bending down until he’s face to face with you, your eyes level with his. You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down his torso, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch. 

“I need you now, P,” you mumble, and you move your hand lower to hold him through his boxers. He twitches into you. 

“What did I say?” his dark eyes are fixed on you as he reaches for your hand and pins it above your head. "I don't think you fully understand the consequences of disobeying me. We'll do this my way," he whispers menacingly.

This dark side of Pedro is one you've never seen before. The Pedro you know is a sunshine. However, the man on top of you right now is a completely different person, and you're more than the ready to get to know him. 

“Keep your hands above your head. No touching."

Your body is aching for him, all willing and open, but he’s sliding down you, pushing your shorts down as he goes. His soft hands trace your thighs and stops at your knees, “Open up for me.” 

"So pretty," he says, voice thick. You look down to see his face, pupils blown wide. “Can't wait to taste you, baby.” 

You're a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. You don't even need to be looking at his face to know how arrogant he is right now, not that you could—it's buried deep inside between your thighs. You're desperate to grab his hair just to see where misbehaving will take you, but you settle for the headboard. 

He kisses your cunt, messy and hot. A groan rumbles in his throat and he moves his tongue in circles, exploring every inch of your wetness. You arch your back, lost in pleasure, as he continues to devour you with his mouth. When you look down again, his brown eyes are staring back at you as his fingers slide into you, finding the right spot in milliseconds. It's fucking game over. 

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue and his goddamn nose. “Pedro...” you whimper, out of breath. “P-Please let me cum." 

“Not yet, baby," he chuckles, fingers continue to expertly tease and stroke your sensitive areas, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "I know you can hold it for a little longer,” you cry out, gripping the bedsheets as you desperately try to move your hips to ride his fingers. Your eyes are watering slightly from how good he’s making you feel. 

“You can cum now.”

Every part of your body spasms, and you scream, everything buzzing and vibrating as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and electricity flooding your body. Removing his fingers, he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up to your belly and lips. As you try to catch your breath, he whispers in your ear, "That was just the beginning. I want to make you cum again and again."

You can tell Pedro loves the way your face heats up at his words. “Please do,” you tell him, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and your wandering hands are met by bare, warm skin and the short, neatly cropped hair that grows thicker the further down your fingers dare to venture.

“I know you said you're in charge, but I really need you to take this off,” you say, losing your ability to wait for orders. To your surprise, he complies and gets off the bed, slides down his boxers, just as you get rid of your t-shirt. You can't help but admire the sight of him fully exposed and ready for you, moving to the drawer to pull out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it onto himself. 

“You can take a picture, it'll last longer." 

“Don't get cocky.”

Pedro settles between you once again, and you grab his face. His eyes glistened, his hot breath on your skin as he leans in closer. Your thumb brushes against the tiny white scar on his nose. “You've marked me forever,” he chuckles, as he cradles your head and kisses you, his nose brushing against yours. 

You grab his length and give him a slow, steady stroke from base to tip, then back down. His mouth leaves yours as his dick twitches in your firm grasp, causing him to groan involuntarily. The pace of your hand up and down his length never picking up or slowing down, instead maintaining the same teasingly slow pace.

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.” 

Pedro guides himself over you, the head of his cock slipping over where you’re open, up to rub on your clit so your fingers dig into his shoulders. His nose nudges gently against yours, “I'll be gentle, princesa.” 

“I don't want you gentle. I want you rough.” 

“Is that so?”

You moan, eyes closing. You can't even remember how to breathe, let alone speak. Pedro pushes only his head into you, opening you before pulling out, leaving you contracting around nothing. “I'm going to fuck you roughly, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?”

“Yes, P,” you rasp, hands sliding across his back. He's playing with you and knows how to make it almost unbearably good. He pushes deeper into you this time, and you can feel your body resist, protesting that he's too big, too much, and he pulls out. He drags his cock over where you're slick and messy before thrusting forward as far as he can. Your nails sink into his broad shoulders, back arching and pushing your stomach into his. "Oh my God.”

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you're made for me." 

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back, to keep him there, deep inside you. His head drops to your shoulders, pressing his lips to your collarbone. You're close, again.

“Please...” you beg, moaning like you've lost all sanity, his mouth pulls away slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and husky. 

“More, please, I need more."

The way Pedro's fucking you right now borders on dangerous, making you question lots of things—things you'd rather not think about right now, as he reaches for your hand and places it on your lower stomach. “Feel that?” 

You're not sure who moans louder: you when you realize why he's put your hand here, or Pedro when your walls clench involuntarily around his cock at the sensation. Your entire body tightens as you cry out, coming undone once again. 

He presses his lips against your forehead and rolls you over, his cock still buried inside you. 

“Pedro…that was…” you pant, body on top of his. “Did you come?”

He smirks. “Not yet, because you're gonna ride me now.” 

Despite the fact that your body is weak and spent, the simple thought of being on top of him is enough fuel to make you feel a surge of energy. You straddle his hips, feeling his hardness against you, and sinking down on his dick. 

“Like this?” you ask as you begin to move your body in sync with his, Your hips swirl and grind down, and Pedro's face is filled with pleasure. “Yes, mi amor. Just like that.” 

Every rock of your hips and the way Pedro's pushing into you are the perfect rhythm. His hands grip your hips so tight, you're pretty sure it'll leave bruises for days. You lean down, his mouth close by your ear, as he fucks into you, hearing him whisper things only you get to hear. “you feel so good, baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”  

Everything is so overwhelming—your body responding to his every thrust and word. It's a moment of pure ecstasy, and you never want it to end. Collapsing onto his chest, your fingers reach up to grip his hair. The satisfying sound of slapping skin echoes through the room, and you're suddenly glad there's no one in the house. 

Pedro slaps your ass as you're still rocking back against his thrust. “You're gonna cum for me again, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moaned as your body trembled with pleasure, mouth crashing into his, squeezing him so tight he can't hold back, and you feel him spill into the condom. He curses out your name as he's twitching and spasming inside you.

The post-sex haze settles over you both as you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. After a couple of minutes, Pedro finally slips out of you and heads to the bathroom. You manage to get up, body aching. As you gather your clothes from the floor and dress up, he emerges from the bathroom, his face puzzled.

“What are you doing?” 

You chuckle, “Leaving.” 

Of course you didn't want to leave, but since you agreed this was just sex and nothing more, staying sounds like a dangerous situation.

There's no need to make this situation more complicated than it already is, even if you gaslight yourself into thinking this is fine as long as you're both on the same page. 

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.” 

“Pedro, we said—"

“I know what we said, but stay. Just for tonight.” 

You give him a warning look, and he gives you the same look back. “It'll make me feel dirty if you leave." you burst out laughing, and his face turns red. How's this the same man that just minutes ago was whispering the filthiest things into your ear?  

“Okay, I'll stay.”  

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and no signs of Pedro. If you weren't lying on his bed, legs hurting like you ran a marathon, and your body wrapped in his warm blankets, you would have thought it was all a dream. Because in your dreams is the only place you are together, it's where you come home to him and he comes home to you. 

You could still feel his hands moving over your skin, his breath on your neck, and the way he whispered in your ear, making you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

Except it wasn't lovemaking; it was just sex. 

The warmth of the hot chilean sun spilled through the bedroom window, casting a golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. The distant sound of soft music and laughter from downstairs made you smile as you sat up against the headboard. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Pedro wearing the coziest looking sweater, his dark hair all over the place, and presumably a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, solecito,” he says sitting down next to you. "I made you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it." 

You take the cup from his hand, fingers touching. “It can't possibly still be morning,” you rasp, voice still hoarse. 

“No, it's not," he tells you. “It's 2:30pm.” 

The fear in your face is palpable. “Fuck, did I miss the gift exchange?” you blurt out.

Pedro's pursed lips and guilty expression made it clear that you, in fact, missed the happiest time of the day. “No...” you dragged out, “Why didn't you wake me up?!” you demanded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep, you looked so peaceful," he replied with a sheepish grin. "But if it makes you feel better, everyone loved what you got them." 

You groan in response. “I hate you so much.”

“Are you always this mean when you wake up?" 

You shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “Eh, only when I have to deal with people who make me miss the fun part of Christmas." 

“Let's talk about how my dad got the better gift, by the way,” he tells you, moving his hands energetically. “And how I'm definitely not jealous at all.” 

“I had to impress him, and you can never go wrong with a Rolex,” you remark with a grin. “Plus, you deserve it after doing the most evil thing you could do to me.” 

“You mean caring for your wellbeing and letting you rest after the very... eventful night you had?” he says teasingly. “Shut up,” you reply, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. In true Pedro fashion, he dramatically dodges the pillow and grins slyly, "You can't silence me that easily."

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire. 

Pedro raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “Is that so?”

You hum. The tension is palpable in the air as you look into his eyes, trying to read his face. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Wanna see what I got you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled, his eyes still on you. 

“Dying to,” you say, pretending not to notice how he changed the subject, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand, “but first I need to shower before I go downstairs.”

“No need,” he reaches for his front pocket, pulling out a small wrapped package. You eagerly take it from him, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Espero que te guste.”

Tearing the paper off and opening the black box, you find a beautiful necklace with a delicate gold chain and a small emerald pendant. “Now I feel like an asshole,” you say, immediately regretting getting him a bunch of funny socks. Your eyes are still fixed on the necklace. 

Pedro laughs, your favorite sound in the world, “Hey, I love my socks. You didn't have to get me so many though,”

“I didn't know which ones you'd like better, so I got you a bunch of ‘em,” you say, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “This is so beautiful," 

“It's your favorite gemstone," he says softly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything is okay.

You rush forward to embrace him, catching him off guard by the way he chuckles and says oh. He wraps his arms tightly around you, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne. “Thanks so much, P,” you say, voice drowning on his skin.  

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

No strings attached, spontaneous, fun, and only while you're here. That's what you and Pedro agreed upon when you decided to have sex five nights ago. But the way he has you pinned against the shower wall and making your legs tremble with pleasure right now has you thinking of a way to make him not want to do this with anyone else.

The slick, wet sounds of Pedro's fingers pumping in and out of you filled the bathroom as you moaned in bliss. “Can you be a good girl for me and be quiet?” his nose brushes against yours, “We don't want them to hear us, do we?” 

You shake your head, blown away, feeling suffocated, as he drags two fingers over your swollen clit. Your jaw sags as the pleasure floods your body as he applies more pressure to it, causing you to grumble in pleasure. As two fingers slide into you, deliciously stretching you, he covers your mouth with his, absorbing your satisfied moan.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, and the water slipped through his hair, dampening it and sticking it back on his forehead. "Open your mouth," he says, a glint in his eyes as you look at him, bewildered. He presses two fingers against your tongue and the sweet-salty taste fills your mouth as you suck on his fingers. “See how fucking good you taste.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need to feel you inside me."

Pedro lets his hand wander around your hips and slowly drags it down, lifting your leg and securing it around his hip. He took the space between your thighs, aligned himself with your entrance, and pushed in, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

He was moving faster, and you felt like a ragdoll in his arms, so euphoric from your high that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and you'd gladly accept it. 

“F-faster, please,”

You've had sex in a variety of positions over the last few days, but there was something about this position and the access it provided that you found incredibly satisfying. His wet, solid chest pressed against yours, his hand tight against your thigh as he buried himself deep within you.

Pedro let out a low groan, one you were all too familiar with by this point, indicating that he was about to finish. His hips trembled and he let out a final grunt, his breaths ragged and heavy as he came inside of you, mouths meeting in a kiss. 

The two of you stood there, still in that proximity for a moment, full of love and softness because above all else, he was your best friend. 

“Can I wash your hair?” 

“Only if you let me wash yours after,” he replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Deal.” 

Since they had a low-key Christmas consisting mainly of hot chocolate, fuzzy sweaters and movies, the family decided to plan a big New Year's Eve celebration to make up for it. Which prompted you to take a quick trip to the city yesterday in search of a dress because you hadn't packed anything fancy. 

Pedro insisted that you didn't have to stress over that, to which you obviously objected.

“Sorry, but I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who has like three t-shirts and a pair of jeans,” you said, scrolling through your phone in search of stores. “You wound me, baby,” he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. “But if you insist on shopping, let me take you.”

“No, you still have to help Javi with the party,” you said, getting up from the the couch. “I'll drive there, and I'll take Pedro and Bruno with me.”  

Pedro looked at you slowly, processing your statement, looking uncertain.

“Google Maps is a thing, and we'll be fine. Now give me your keys.”

“I like it when you're bossy,” he said, his voice lowering with a hint of a smile. “They're on the counter."

And thanks to the heavens, you decided to make an effort and find something suitable for the occasion because they went all out. 

The bass pounded through the walls as the guests danced and laughed, enjoying the party. The colorful decorations and delicious food made it a night to remember.

“Oh my god, they're gone,” Javiera groans, referring to the tray of now empty lemon bars that were apparently the highlight of the dessert table. “I wanted another one!” 

“I made another batch, I hid them in the oven,” you quickly tell her, feeling a little proud of yourself over the fact that people were enjoying what you made. “I'll go get them.”

“I will come with you.”

Once you both reach the empty kitchen, you go straight to the oven, pulling out the tray of lemon bars and setting it on the kitchen island. 

“Thank you for taking Pedro and Bruno out yesterday, by the way."

"I had so fun much with them. They're great boys and even better fashion advisers,” you tell her, gesturing to your burgundy dress. 

“Glad to know I've taught them well,” she says laughing. 

As you cut the bars into perfect squares, Javiera grabs one and takes a bite, savoring the tangy sweetness. "These are amazing, you should consider selling them," she exclaims, closing her eyes in content. 

You smile. “In another lifetime, I own a bakery in a small town with a living unit attached to the top. I have a beautiful green kitchen, and I don't feel the need to prove myself to people."

Javiera gives you a warm smile as you grab the powdered sugar. “You know,” she says reluctantly. “I see things and I feel things,” you stop what you're doing to look up at her, confused. “My brother's just scared.” 

Confusion is quickly replaced with clarity as you realize where she's going with this. You open your mouth to say something, but she shuts you down. “He's created this wall to protect himself, he's been through a lot, and he has convinced himself that this is enough, that he doesn't need more, but I know better.” 

A sigh leaves your lips, all of those feelings bubble up until you can't get a good breath, until you’re drowning. She continues, “I have seen you two together, friends don't look at each other like that." 

You know that she's right, but things aren't so simple. Not when it comes to this. 

“Maybe in another lifetime," is all you tell her, grabbing the lemon bars and heading out of the kitchen. 

•••

The backyard is a wonderland of string lights and bunting, the air is filled with the sound of laughter and music as people dance under the stars. You were lost in conversation with Pedro's father. He shared more stories of his youth, what got him to pursue medicine, and how he met Pedro's late mother, leaving you feeling nostalgic for a time you never knew. 

He catches you looking away, follows your gaze straight to Pedro, and smiles knowingly. “I hope you have a good flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a little at your own transparency. “Thank you for everything, really.”

“We hope you come back soon, It was a pleasure to have you,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. He walks off, pausing for a moment to talk to Pedro. Smiles were exchanged, and then he continued his way.  

Pedro looks exceptionally good tonight. Hair perfectly styled, white shirt perfectly stretching over his back. You drink up his movements as he approaches you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Who did your hair?” you ask him, knowing damn well this was someone else's doing because he didn't know how to do it. “My sister,” he replied, chuckling. 

“She's doing the Lord's work,” you tell him, folding your arms, feeling exposed by the way he's staring. It's comical that you feel this way, as if he hasn't seen you naked for the past week. 

“I'm gonna have to hire someone to do my hair at all times if you like it this much.”

“I like it either way,” you admitted, "but I just think it looks extra good when it's styled like this." 

His mouth splits into quite possibly your favorite of his various smiles, the one that makes it look like there's a secret tucked up in one corner of his mouth. “Dance with me?”

“Always.” 

You take his hand and pull him to the deck, beneath the twinkling lights and away from the crowd, while the Bee Gees' “How Deep Is Your Love” plays like the universe just wants to mock you. Pedro folds your hand up in his warm palm, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on how this feels. 

It feels right, it feels perfect, and it feels like it's gonna end. 

He nestles his mouth into your hair and breathes you in as you sway. His sister's words ring in your ear once again: My brother's just afraid. 

You allow yourself to imagine this feeling lasting. A world within a world just for you and Pedro, where people just let you both be. Where you belong to each other. And then you invite reality forward to change the story. 

You're working all day, taking endless flights to different locations, because you're trapped in a cycle of wanting to do more and never feeling like it's enough. Pedro exhausted from long days of shooting, press, taking endless flights, and getting pulled down by gravity. 

Unaswered texts. Missed calls. Grief. Hurt. Distance. Missing each other. Fighting. Falling apart. 

And you realize you're afraid too and this can never be.

“Pedro.”

There's a lengthy silence. His voice is a raspy, growly mutter. “I know. But don't say it.”

You don't look at each other. You just need to hold on to each other because if you look, you'll see that this make-believe game is over. You both feel the warmth of each other's embrace and the unspoken words between you. The silence is comforting yet suffocating.

His arms squeezed around you as everyone started to countdown. Cheers filled the air. Fireworks broke out over the sky in a thousand different colors. He tells you happy new year, and you say it back, never letting go. 

Even though you never said it to each other, you both knew. The love was there, and it didn't change anything. 

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it, thank you for reading :) (i know this ending feels like this is it for them HOWEVER i will be making several other parts because i can't stop writing about this lol)

[hard-core-super-star]

i'm the powder, you're the fuse [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: top!hailee steinfeld x bottom!stuntdouble!reader

summary: being hailee's body double doesn't shape up to be exactly what you planned...it turns out far better.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> VERY little plot; selfcest kink [R is hailee's body double and she's VERY into how similar they look]; hailee's kinda egotistical because...yeah; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus; grinding/lap dance; dirty talk; so much banter/bickering; dashes of praise; there's a mirror involved; light spanking; mentions of bruises [not related to the smut]; when will i learn to write endings lmao

wordcount: 4.2k

a/n: so...i might have taken my usual "fuck hailee steinfeld" thought a little too seriously this time 😅 in my defense...i have none, but i still had a great time writing this. usual "don't like don't read" type of vibes apply here. that being said, this is a reminder than my commisions are open AND i'll be opening requests starting tomorrow. [if you want priority, though, aka to ensure that i write your idea as fast as possible, commisioning something is the way to go] anyway, thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

The rumors that surrounded Hailee Steinfeld weren't news to you. 

You weren't particularly interested in gossip, most people in and out of the industry would make anything up as long as it got them five seconds of relevance. You knew better than to believe everything you saw on the internet.

As far as you were concerned, the brunette was merely another, slightly conceited, talented actress. You would have been fine never going anywhere near her...if it weren't for the uncanny resemblance you shared.

Most of the time, it was simply annoying. You weren't an actress, not really, you had always been more interested in stunt doubles than any other part of movie making. Maybe it wasn't the most glamorous, and it was certainly the most dangerous of all the on-set jobs, but it was what you were drawn to.

Unfortunately, most people weren't drawn to you for your lack of fear or penchant for badass stunts. Most people were absolutely fascinated by how much you looked like Hailee. It was something you fought against for most of your life...until you got a call from her agent, asking you if you'd be interested to be Ms. Steinfeld's body double in the new season of Hawkeye.

A part of you wanted to say no just to piss everyone off. However, you couldn't deny how well they were willing to pay you and how many doors working with Marvel would open for you. So, even though the last thing you wanted was to be in a room with her, you took the job.

All you were told was to change your workout regimen to match Hailee's and to fly out to New York two months before shooting started to get you fitted for the costume. It sounded far easier than you would have thought but then again, you were already halfway to basically being Hailee so it wasn't like there was much work to do in that department.

Well, besides work out. Which, again, wasn't that much of a sacrifice. Especially when your body started changing to show the results of your hard work.

Time ended up passing faster than you would have thought and before you knew it, you were on your way to your first costume fitting. You weren't too excited about it since you'd heard Hailee would be there, mainly to make sure the costumes were as identical as possible and there were no noticeable differences between you.

You already knew there wouldn't be, considering what people had told you for the past few years of your life.

Still, you knew it was routine and there was no point in turning it into a bigger deal than it needed to be.

At least that's what you kept telling yourself as the actress quite literally ogled you. You couldn't really blame her, your workouts had given you a more than impressive physique and you were very proud of the discipline it took to create the abs that now graced your stomach.

Hailee didn't need to know that, though, but she made it incredibly difficult to avoid the conversation.

Then again, it was like the only conversation she wanted to have with you had something to do with your looks. It was annoying but you were used to it.

What you weren't used to were the endless strings of compliments she was throwing your way.

It was easy to ignore it that first day. To chalk it up to her personality, maybe even her shock at how alike your looks are. Anything and everything except the obvious truth that she found you attractive.

Maybe it was your own insecurities that held you back from seeing the truth or maybe the weirdness that came with her being attracted to you when you looked so much like her. Something that shouldn't have made you pause as much as it did, considering the way she always paused to look at her reflection in the mirror.

Whatever the reason, the outcome was the same.

You ignored most of the compliments she threw your way while doing everything in your power to focus on the work and nothing else. It was easy at first, the stunts they had you doing were thrilling enough to keep your attention for long periods of time.

As the days went on, though, you found yourself growing closer to Hailee, despite how hard you had tried to stay away from her. Then again, it wasn't like you could do much to fight it when she went out of her way to spend time with you in between scenes.

Foolishly, you believed it was simply because she was trying to be nice, maybe give you some guidance since you were new to Marvel projects. To her credit, her intentions weren't fully bad...but there was certainly something else simmering beneath the surface of her warm smiles.

Something that you were too blind to see.

At least, until you finally allowed yourself to admit how attracted you were to her.

In all honesty, admitting the true weight of you feelings wasn't hard, especially considering how often she invited you out to dinner where the conversation flowed almost as easily as the wine. The issue was making sure said feelings didn't get in the way of your job, you were a professional, after all.

Hailee, one the other hand, didn't really care about being sneaky. Maybe it had a lot to do with the executive producer credit she'd managed to talk the director into or the obvious privileges she received as the lead of the show. Whatever the reason, the outcome was the same.

The more obvious the looks she threw your way became, the less restraint you started showing on set. Especially after a long day of tiring stunts.

It's how you found yourself walking back to her trailer, the brunette's arm wrapped securely around your waist to help you stay upright. Just because you weren't seriously hurt didn't mean you weren't sore and aching all over.

"What's wrong with you?" Hailee asks, her tone filled with amusement. "I thought all those muscles would break your fall."

"Ha ha, very funny," you reply. "I seriously regret not telling them to add more pads to the suit."

"Yeah, but you don't need the pads. You already look good."

This time, she actually gets a laugh out of you. Her contast flirting has a way of balancing between being annoying and endearing. Today, the balance seems ot be closer to endearing...or maybe, you're more tired than you originally thought. "Do you ever stop flirting?"

"Nope," she says with a smile. "It's not my fault, you're hot."

The emptiness of the set around you allows you to be more relaxed than usual which in turn allows you to tease Hailee for her very obvious attraction to herself. Weirdly, you didn't mind it. If anything, you found it a little flattering. Looking like this took quite a bit of work, after all.

Maybe it says more about you than it does about her, but that's beside the point. The same way she'd made a habit out of flirting with you, you'd made a habit of calling out her slightly narcissistic tendencies.

"You only think that because I look like you."

Hailee takes your teasing in stride, a soft laugh making its way past her lips. "And? That doesn't make it less true."

Somehow, you should've seen her response coming.

"You are so annoying."

"And hot," she says with a shrug, as if your words simply bounce off her.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, I will."

Honestly, you have no doubt she really will. As much as you want to hate her for it, you can't. Mainly because she's not wrong. She really is attractive.

It doesn't help that she has the charisma to make her massive ego seem charming instead of ridiculous. You have no doubt it'll backfire on her at some point soon, but for now, you'll just enjoy it.

The brunette leads you to her trailer, helping you inside and watching as you stretch out your sore muscles. Muscles she can't stop herself from admiring.

You're not sure where it comes from, or why you let yourself speak the thought outloud, maybe it's a testament to how safe she makes you feel or how unbearable your crush on her has become. Whatever the reason, the second you form the thought, you spit it out without a second thought.

"Can you help me take the suit off? The zipper's been really stubborn lately."

The silence that follows borders on unbearable. 

You can't fully figure out what the look on her face means. It makes you want to curl into yourself and disappear. To make a stupid joke and act like you never said anything in the first place. Like you totally didn't embarrass yourself in front of your unrequited crush. (An unrequited crush who is secretly thinking about jumping your bones)

"Are you...sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine, Lee. I wouldn't have asked you for help if I couldn't handle it."

Your words seem like a bit of an understatement. Technically, you're not sure if you can actually handle it, but you'll be dammed if you don't take advantage of the moment. Of the brief flash of confidence that led you to ask her for help in the first place.

All she offers is a nod before her body starts moving. There's something weirdly intimate about the whole situation, about the way her eyes are locked on yours through the mirror in front of you. It's overwhelming in the best way.

Hailee steps forward until her front is almost pressed up against your back. The warmth of her body makes you shiver, but it's nothing compared to the feeling of her hands on you and it takes all your self-restraint to not gasp in response.

There's a teasing edge to her touch as she drags her fingers across your shoulders, caressing your skin until she reaches the zipper of your top. She drags the zipper down slowly, revealing your back muscles and the few faint bruises that litter your skin.

"Do those hurt?" She asks, a hint of concern overtaking her usual playful tone.

"A little," you respond with a shrug. "I'm used to it."

She hums  as her eyes scan your back, her fingers not so subtly running down your spine. It's a soft touch, but it makes you shudder all the same.  "How do you make it look so easy?"

If you didn't know any better, you might think she's being genuine. That there's care and worry behind her words. You know there isn't and yet...you let your mind wander anyway. "Because I'm good at my job."

Your words earn you a huff, and you watch her roll her eyes through the mirror in front of you. "And you say I'm the narcissist."

"Well, you're the one who wants to fuck herself." 

Even though you're merely trying to get under her skin, you both know there's at least a little bit of truth behind your words. It's clear in the way she can't stop admiring your back and the muscles you earned by training like her. By doing everything you could to look as much like her as possible.

"And you want to fuck me. It's the same thing when you think about it, honey."

"Oh, shut up. I don't want to fuck you."

"Yeah? Keep telling yourself that."

All she's doing is riling you up, you know that, and yet, as the fabric of your costume falls down your arms, you find yourself growing more confident. It's stupid to let yourself get carried away when Hailee is technically your boss, but you can't help it. You want to turn the tables on her. To make her speechless for once.

So, with a sudden burst of motivation, you turn around and push her back until her knees hit the couch behind her. You've never been more thankful for her ridiculous ideas and weird trailer requests.

"What's going on?" The brunette asks, although the smirk on her face tells you she already knows your plan.

"I'm going to make you eat your words," you reply as you do your best to sound self-assured instead of terrified.

Just because she flirts with you all the time doesn't mean she wants to do anything about it. Then again, judging by the look on her face, there are a lot of things she wants to do about it.

"I'm sure I'll be eating something soon..." She trails off, her silence leaving no room for alternate interpretations.

 You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Are you always this horny?"

"Apparently only when I'm looking at myself."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

She rolls her eyes, but the action is filled with more amusement than annoyance. It's not like she can act offended when she knows it's the truth. She loves nothing more than staring at herself, something that's become very apparent lately.

You take a second to try and calm your speeding heart before turning around slowly, making sure to roll your hips and give her an enticing show.

There's something slightly embarrasing about what you're doing, about the half-dressed state you're in, the borderline desperate edge to your movements. It should be a lot of things, but all it is is incredibly arousing.

You do your best to move slow, to tease her just as much as she's been teasing you lately. You're not sure who finds the slow pace more difficult, to be honest.

"Fuck," she groans. "You're playing dirty."

"Is that a complaint, Miss Steinfeld?" you reply with another shake of your hips. "Because I have no problem with stopping right now."

You take the opportunity to rub your ass against her lap and you hear her sharp intake of breath. The fabric that separates you isn't thin enough to let her feel everything, but it's a start. 

And it drives her absolutely crazy.

"Don't you fucking dare stop." Her tone leaves no room for arguments, especially when paired with the way her hands come up to grip your hips.

All you can do is smirk to yourself and continue your teasing movements against her lap. Her grip on you tightens as she pulls you closer to her, her hips not so subtly bucking upward in search of friction.

You know you should feel bad about what you're doing. At the very least, you should feel stupid for letting yourself get carried away like this. Maybe even dirty for allowing Hailee to touch you, to admire your body and the similarities it carries to her own. There are a lot of things you should be feeling, and arousal is definitely not one of them.

And yet...it's the only thing you can think about.

The brunette's hands pull you back until you're sat on her lap, and you tilt your head back in response to the contact, baring your neck to her approving gaze. "You look so much better like this."

"Why?" You reply in a breathless whisper. "Because I look like you?"

"That's part of it, yes."

You're not sure why, but instead of annoying you, her words light a fire within you that you're not sure you'll be able to put out on your own. Admitting how turned on you are seems impossible, even embarrassing, since you've spent the last few months making fun of her and calling her a narcissist for being so attracted to herself. Thankfully, Hailee doesn't need words to realize what's going on with you.

The brunette leans down, her lips coming into contact with your flushed skin and sending sparks of pleasure down your body. As if that isn't enough to turn your thoughts to mush, her hands slide down to grip your thighs, firmly spreading them open.

"You're such a hypocrite," she murmurs against your throat. "You want this, don't you?"

A part of you wants to lie, to pretend you don't care about this, about her. To act like you haven't thought about this moment far too many times since she started shamelessly flirting with you in front of everyone.

However, you can't deny how turned on you are. How desperate you are to feel her hands on your skin. To let her lose herself in your body.

It goes against everything the logical part of your brain is saying, but you don't care. You're too far gone to back out now. "Yeah...I do."

Your words earn you a sharp nip to your neck and you arch your back against her. "There you go, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"

As badly as you want to talk back to her, she springs into action before you even get the chance to open your mouth.

This time, she's the one who pushes you around, leading you right over to the nearest vanity. There's something incredibly fucked up about being bent over where she sits every day for hair and makeup, but clearly, the mirror in front of both of you is enough to distract her from that fact.

Her eyes are glued to the reflection, to your bent over form and the perfect picture the two of you make. To the almost identical looks on your faces, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire, lips parted in search of more.

It's dirty and sinful and so, so beautiful.

Her hands are still glued to your hips, her grip growing stronger with every passing second.

Suddenly, a thought pops into your head. One that's almost as bad as the one that started this whole thing.

You almost don't say anything, but then your eyes meet hers and everything comes crashing out of your mouth.

"You can do it if you want, you know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes widen almost comically, accidentally giving away how well she understands what you're talking about. "What?"

You momentarily consider retracting your words but you can't deny how much the thought excites you too. How willing you are to bend the rules of what's considered appropriate for her. After all, it's just a bit of roleplay, right? What's so wrong with that?

"Come on, Lee, I'm not an idiot," you reply. "If you want to fuck yourself, you have to commit."

Your words clearly send her mind spinning. You both know exactly what you're talking about, it's obvious in the way her lips find their way into her usual smirk.

"Are you- what are you...are you sure? It's...that's okay with you?"

Her hesitation is a little adorable. For someone so adamant that things be done exactly how she wants them, it's a little endearing how slow she's taking things for once. How sure she wants to be that this is something you actually want.

As if you haven't been imagining this exact scenario since the day you met.

"I'm sure, Hailee. I want this too."

Your confirmation is the only thing she needs to throw all caution to the wind. You see it in the way her eyes narrow slightly, almost as if she's accepting the challenge.

Her hands leave your waist long enough to drag the rest of the suit down your body. The strength behind her movements leaves you breathless and not so subtly pushing back toward her.

"Holy shit," she mutters. "You've been hiding this from me the whole time?"

"I told you I'm good at my job," you reply. "A couple extra workouts a week go a long way."

Your words earn you a low chuckle, satisfaction blooming in your chest, before her hand comes down harshly against your ass. The sting is far more pleasurable than it should be and it wipes out any hope of coherent thinking.

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to gag you...Hailee."

"Oh, fuck," you whimper.

Hearing her call you by her name shouldn't be as hot as it and yet here you are, practically flooding your panties from the sound of it. From the unrestrained desire that's so clear in her voice.

"I guess you weren't lying, you really do want it, don't you?" She leans down over you, practically trapping you against the vanity.

Her hand snakes its way between your bodies, her fingers trailing a teasing path down your spine until they reach the soaked fabric of your panties. You both groan at the contact and she wastes no time in pulling the fabric to the side and sliding her fingers through your folds.

"Such a dirty little thing," she says, her voice a rough whisper against your ear. "Want me to fuck you? Make you scream just for me?"

"Yes, please, I need you."

"You need me?" She repeats, clearly basking in the ego-boost your words provide her with.

You open your mouth to respond, to tell her to stop being dick and just fuck you already, but she beats you to the punch. She quickly slides two fingers into your cunt, sinking them in with zero restistance and making you cry out at the feeling of being filled up so deliciously.

Hailee leans down to pepper kisses across your shoulders as she gives you a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Even when she's clearly wanting to be rough, she's doing what she can to keep you comfortable.

"You feel so good, darling. Taking my fingers so well." The second the words are out of her mouth, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you.

"Hailee," you moan, your eyes still glued to the mirror in front of you. It gives you a sight you'd never have thought you enjoyed so much, but the evidence is clear in the arousal that threatens to slide down your thighs.

"I know," she replies, not doing anything to hide the smugness in her tone.

Her fingers speed up as she lifts her head and stares you down through the reflection. Your walls instantly clench around her, your lips parting around her name once more.

This time, you're graced by the sight of the smile you've grown to adore. "We should've done this a whole lot sooner."

You nod in agreement and she slides her free hand down to join the first one, her fingers finding your throbbing clit and adding to the overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck- Please, don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Hailee." You're not sure what it is about her words that sets you off so badly, but the pleasure takes you completely by surprise. Hailee notices, though, and she speeds her movements up accordingly to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on, baby, I know you want to fall apart for me, do it. Cum for me."

You wouldn't deny her even if you could.

You say her name like a prayer as her touch sends sparks of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't take more than few moments for a particulary hard thrust to send you hurling toward your orgasm, walls fluttering around her fingers.

"Fuck...there you go."

She works you through your orgasm, going back to kissing and nipping your shoulder as she slows down her pace. It does little to soothe you and the overwhelming need you still feel, but you appreciate her efforts all the same.

"You doing okay?" She mumbles, slowly easing her digits out of your sensitive pussy.

"Yeah, just...a little out of breath."

"I thought that's what all the workouts were for," she teases as she shifts back.

You're about to complain about the sudden lack of contact when you watch her drop down to her knees behind you. Your breath gets knocked out of your breath once more and you know there's no way you'll be able to go back to normal after this.

Then again, that doesn't seem like such a bad thing now. Especially when her tongue is darting out to taste your arousal.

You buck your hips back against her mouth which makes her chuckle. "Still so eager, aren't you? It's alright, show me how much you want me."

You don't give yourself enough time to think about her words. You simply do as your told, rolling your hips and feeling her tongue explore your soaked folds.

You're a little too sensitive to take it, but that doesn't stop her from wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking hard enough to make your whole body shake.

"Holy shit, Hailee-"

She hums in response, the vibrations turning your legs to jelly. It's more than a little embarrassing, but completely justified considering the situation.

It takes her no time to make you fall apart for her again. You can practically feel her smirk as she swipes her tongue through your folds once more, collecting your release.

She leans back once it's clear you can't take any more stimulation, placing kisses across every inch of skin that's close to her. "So...how long until you can return the favor?"

You laugh despite yourself. "Oh, fuck off."

[xcherryerim]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Night Shift Sparks

for jhutch promptober prompt 22: Denim

Mike schmidt x gn!reader | wc: 1.1k (suggestive)

The building was like a frozen fortress, its air conditioning blasting at full force to preserve the delicate animatronics. Even with your blanket, the chill seeped into your bones, making you shiver involuntarily. Your breath came out in small puffs of mist, mixing with the coffee steam. The cold weather outside seemed to leak inside, making even the surveillance room seem frostbitten.

Intrigued, you glanced at the hanger, wondering what type of coverup Mike would wear in such freezing weather. Would it be something casual, elegant, or cute? But to your surprise, you saw a simple denim jacket next to your coat.

“Don’t you get cold?” You looked at Mike, a hint of concern in your eyes. He seemed taken aback by the sudden question.

"What?" he asked, his voice betraying a touch of surprise.

"Your jacket," you replied, your gaze shifting back to the clothes on the hanger.

"Oh…" he said, a hint of flusteredness in his voice. "It has a bit of fur inside. It keeps me warm."

Unconvinced, you chuckled, your cheeks subtly blushing as you retorted, "Still... I think it's much colder outside for a denim jacket to handle alone."

His eyes were transfixed by your smile, captivated by the way it turned into a soft line. Mike's adam's apple moved as he prepared a response.

"Ah, I like feeling the breeze a bit," his discomfort or embarrassment became evident as his hand went to his neck.

Unintentionally, your eyes drifted to his arms, noting the marked skin and wondering what it would feel like for those arms to wrap around you, hold your hips, or even choke you.

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts, hoping Mike hadn't managed to read your mind, as that would undoubtedly create an awkward situation between you and your coworker.

With a shaky voice, Mike announced, "I'll go get a smoke." His eyes refused to meet yours, his fingers tapping the chair.

"You wanna come with me?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of pleading. He wasn't desperate, but he certainly hoped you would accompany him, even if it was just to stand by his side.

You smiled, sensing the underlying anticipation in his voice. "Sure, I'll join you in a bit."

You watched the security camera, observing the almost invisible reflection of Mike putting on his jacket. Your thoughts fixated on one thing: he was incredibly hot.

You took a moment to compose yourself before following him, not wanting to appear overly eager. You spotted Mike leaning against the wall, a cigar between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the deserted street. The lack of cars made the pizzeria even creepier in the darkness.

"You want some?" he asked, holding up the pack of cigars.

"Oh no, thanks," you replied, unable to hide your nervousness.

Cursing yourself internally for your awkwardness, you tried to distract yourself by playing with the cold breeze, creating a cloud of mist from your mouth.

He chuckled to himself, finding your awkward behavior endearing. Your laugh was a mix of self-conscious and amusement, but nonetheless, it was rewarding to see him smile. It was a rare sight that you cherished.

As you looked at him, your eyes fixated on the small patch you had gifted him on his birthday earlier that year. The thought of your gift still bringing him joy warmed your heart.

The gift was far from perfect, you knew that. You didn't want to be too obvious about your feelings for him, so you avoided giving him anything extravagant. However, you also didn't want to give him something too mundane. Caught in a whirlwind of indecision, and with time running out, you ended up giving him a last-minute gift.

Despite its rushed nature, Mike still seemed to appreciate it, and now here he was, wearing it with his jacket, making your heart flutter just a little bit.

You couldn't help but smile a bit awkwardly as you pointed at the patch, asking, "You liked it? I mean, the patch I gave you.”

Mike nodded, blushing slightly as his eyes fixated on the patch. "Yeah," he replied. "I don't usually wear denim jackets, but I wanted to wear the patch you gave me, you know... because it was a gift from you."

Your body moved involuntarily, your soft fingertips gently brushing against the material of the patch on his jacket. Before you knew it, Mike's eyes were on you, his breaths becoming shallow and shaky. He swallowed nervously, trying to hide his anticipation.

Your eyes met his, as if seeking permission for a tender kiss.

Mike stumbled over his words, dropping his cigar on the ground and stamping on it with a clumsy eagerness. "Okay, uh... hold on." He stammered, his voice filled with anxiousness.

Your hand instinctively grabbed onto his jacket for support as he suddenly grabbed your hips. Before either of you could think, your lips met. The unexpected collision was both thrilling and endearing, marked by your yet affectionate touch on his jacket and his firm grip on your hips.

The kisses were sweet and tender, yet laden with an underlying hunger for more. You could feel your body respond, a rush of desire washing over you as Mike let out faint curses against your lips. The sensation was so intoxicating you feared you would become addicted to him.

Pulling away slightly, you opened your eyes and spotted a police car approaching. Immediately assuming it was Vanessa, you tried to distance yourself from Mike, but he quickly gripped your hips again, pressing your body against his.

"Mike! Vanessa..." you managed to say, your voice shaky with unease.

Mike, with a hint of mischief in his eyes, said with a smirk, "I don't mind an audience." Before you could protest, he leaned in to kiss you again. Feeling a wave of rrassment, you hastily raised his denim jacket to conceal the action from anyone who might be watching.

Vanessa approached, a playful smile on her lips. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she joked.

Mike pretended to be oblivious, replying with a casual, "Oh no."

Mike stepped back into the pizzeria, leaving you standing there with Vanessa. She delivered a playful thumbs up and a wink before disappearing inside. Lost in your thoughts about what had just happened, you were suddenly pulled back to reality by the bite of the cold night air.

Unconsciously, your body began to lead you back inside the warm building, seeking respite from the cold.

You were lost in your thoughts, not really paying attention to what Vanessa was saying, instead you were reliving the memory of your first kiss with Mike. Suddenly, his whisper behind you made your body tense.

"Maybe we could make out in my car if you want," he husked, attempting to keep his composure. However, he looked more like a lovesick puppy than anything else.

As he spoke, the realization hit you – this night was going to be a long one... yet you couldn't help but feel excited.

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 2 224

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: First meeting and training discussions Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. Last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it of during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they need to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two ours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too...

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When loud screech of timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake," white haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross legged just few feets away from him. She wore something that could only be described as an unholy mix of lab safety hazmat and skintight workout jumpsuit, white and black. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante? "Good, I just returned from snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

Girl shrugged, take out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries," as she spoke, second take out bag, 1 quart bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of same size and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. Noone else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to speed of sound," So, clearly a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has bad few days he often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look gift horse in teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you..." he trailed off, hoping that girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has different purpose," she explained instead, slightly muffled because of fries in her mouth, "This" she gestured towards fast food meal "is to sooth your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to sooth your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised bottle of juice, "is to sooth your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to sooth your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that," she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not," he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of brownies when girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah" he was a little surprised to realize that it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it," she shrugged with general gesture of dismissal, "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote, "she did honest to God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't only one. Anyway as he said 'As only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has celebrity crush on you," she slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took split second to consider addressing... this whole situation and choose not to. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I," She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him," she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before," she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature and other waves she excluded but for regular people she would be no different than surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

"I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten god damn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it-" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity energy he could muster "-so I don't know how you fight or even what powers do you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare faced lie, Bat training made sure of that but he knew for fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed, raising finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quietened.

"I have enhanced hearing," she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then," he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

"After this you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterwards he was going to lock himself in his room until sky falls down or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

********

"Hey kid," Signal started, dropping from fire escape to cuff weirdo in clown mask who Dani just fought. He did it deliberately slowly to show her how to do it like he always did. She choose to not be to annoyed at being called kid again and noted to herself to come up with good codename later. All her previous ideas apparently weren't cutting it and she couldn't keep going by Dani because reasons.

"Yes?"

"Who gave you a combat training?" he asked getting up from a crouch and gesturing towards roof. So it's going to be longer talk, okay.

"My cousin," well, Flashes in Central taught her some stuff but it was more rescue and reassure type of deal not punch and kick, Sam tried to get her through basics of psychological warfare in activism, Tucker sweared he would teach her some programming and hacking but never got around to it, Jazz did some emotional training and Val offered to teach her Red Huntress skills when she got back, but yeah, all in all, Danny was the one to show her how to punch people. Even though it was more of 'shit we have to fight, observe maybe, idk' most of the time. She picked some tricks from Vlad too now that she thought about it, not that she planned to give him any credit for it, like, ever. "Why?"

"I have a bone to pick with him," vigilante announced, melting with the shadows. Dani sped as much as she could to beat him to the roof. She was competitive spirit like that.

Unfortunately he was first. She made another note to herself (she was so going to forget them in next five to ten minutes) to train her speed a bit more. She got tips from the guy with the title of The Fastest Man Alive for crying out loud, she shouldn't loose with the person who technically doesn't even have superspeed!

Signal sat cross legged on the gravel and tossed her a healthy granola bar. He kept doing it for some reason.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but almost everything in your fighting technique is horrible. Your cousin did shitty job as a teacher" he started in warm slightly teasing tone. Dani felt attacked anyway.

"It's not like he has any sort of training either," she started, trying to sound nonchalant, rolling her eyes. "Cut him some slack," She bit a snack in attempt to cover her furry. It had chocolate and raspberries, was quite tasty and she was kinda hungry anyway. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Signal knew it though "Everything he learned is from the trial and error by crashing through a few walls. Quite hard to care about 'technique'. I at least got his mistakes to learn from so don't you dare to speak about him like that!" alright, she lost it, she can admit it. But, Signal might be cool and Danny may or may not like him (she hoped he didn't, Val was much better option) but Gotham's hero had no right to say anything bad about her template. He didn't know anything. He didn't understand.

Signal looked like he was going to say something so she put her ghostly vocal cords to use and growled.

Don't-harm-family/will-fight/ protect-mine/don't-you-dare

She didn't stop to consider how unlikely it was for him to understand her. She crossed her hands on her chest, glaring.

Turned out, growl was enough of the warning. He carefully picked his next words.

"Sorry, it's not the way I should've phrase it," he started, his mouth doing the thing it did when people were embarrassed with themselves but in an uncomfortable, a bit angry way. He understood his mistake, good. She calmed her glare a bit. "I wasn't aware of you circumstances. If you want, I can show you some tricks, Batman is very throughout with his training"

"No, thank you, I'm good" she was still mad. So mad. And she was not pouting.

"Of course you're good but you can be better, more efficient."

"No." Whatever Signal would propose to her, she wouldn't agree. He said mean things about Danny not even a minute before. She couldn't let him have it on a principle!

"I'll give you a cookie after every training," he pleaded "The homemade, tasty one"

Well, that changed things. A lot of things.

"Yes please!"

He apologized anyway.

********************

Second part

I know democratic winner in poll for now is "publish all at once" and believe me, I respect democracy, especially now that I finally have rights to do things, but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Too long or something. So, it'll be in parts, sorry guys. I'll try to post all of the parts this weekend though (or one each day, I'll see).

Yes, I didn't have a name for this fic until five minutes ago, how did you know? It's quite alright though, I think. If you have better idea I may reconsider