#I know there’s no set meaning don’t come at me

[moonstruckme]

hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?” 

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you. 

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.” 

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.” 

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…” 

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.” 

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?” 

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.” 

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.” 

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm. 

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.” 

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch. 

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.” 

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment. 

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest. 

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks. 

“Um…” You think back. 

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.” 

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.” 

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.” 

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass. 

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.” 

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.” 

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?” 

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.” 

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.” 

“Every day?” 

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.” 

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.” 

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.” 

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.” 

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

[starlightswitch]

@flashfictionfridayofficial I was thinking about this idea since like Wednesday and the prompt slotted right in. But it's European Figure Skating Championship week and I was running out of time to watch replays, so it took me two days to finish it and to the Antique Prompts list it goes.

First Time For a Few Things

“Mom?” Chloe’s voice from upstairs.

“It’s after midnight!” Nina hadn’t looked at the clock but she had a feel for time when she was painting. If she was up after midnight painting it meant she was in a flow, and her daughter was not supposed to distract her unless it was an emergency.

“I… need… help.”

Nina rested her brush hand. “What kind of help?” she called, a sigh coming out in the middle of the words. She couldn’t imagine an emergency that would put that tone in Chloe’s voice—not urgent distress, more like… embarrassment?

“I think you need to come up here.”

This time the sigh was more quiet, but very, very long. Nina set her work aside and headed upstairs to find her daughter.

The first thing she saw in her daughter’s room was a teenage girl who was not her daughter.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the girl said. “I don’t even know how I got here, and then that thing is asking Chloe what she wants it to do with me!”

Sure enough, at the other side of the room lurked a familiar frightening figure. And her daughter.

“He just… showed up!” said Chloe.

“The agreement,” said Nina, half to the demon, “was that you would be protected from harm. What harm were you coming to?” There was a little snark in her tone. She had a feeling she would not define it as harm.

“I was, um, just upset about something that happened with her. No big deal.”

Nina looked at the demon, then back at her daughter. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“She told me to bring her to her,” the demon put in. Nina didn’t think she was imagining a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You got that thing involved—” said the other girl, staring at Chloe, “—because your—”

“I didn’t get that thing involved!” Chloe insisted. “I don’t know how he got here!”

“But you know how I got here! I got here because you told it to bring me to you. Then what were you going to do?”

“I don’t know!” That tone that might be embarrassment again. “I didn’t think that far!”

“So what happened?” said Nina. “What started this?”

“We don’t have to get into it!” said Chloe.

Nina looked at the other girl.

The girl raised her chin. “Her boyfriend broke up with her,” she said. “And started dating me.”

Nina swept her gaze back to Chloe. “So it wasn’t something she did?” she said.

“I mean,” said Chloe, staring at her feet, “it wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t exist.”

The other girl’s voice peaked. “You were going to tell it you wanted me to not exist?”

“I told you I didn’t think that far!”

Nina took a very deep breath. “You don’t want a guy who doesn’t want you and wants someone else,” she said to her daughter. “Trust me, you don’t.”

“I can’t just not want him!”

“You could try harder than you’re currently trying.”

Chloe went back to staring at her feet and did not say she couldn’t try harder.

After a minute, Nina said, “So now what do we do?”

“Ultimately I answer to you,” said the demon.

Nina was looking at Chloe.

Chloe rubbed her head, her chin in her hand like she was getting a headache. “He should take her back to where she was,” she said sullenly. “And I should try to get over the guy. I guess. And you’re probably going to say this dude can’t take orders from me.”

Nina swallowed a laugh at ‘this dude’. “The intention was to protect you from harm,” she said. “Let me now specify, physical harm. Or, obvious, direct harm. Not getting what you want is not harm, especially when it involves someone else making a choice.”

A boyfriend. It suddenly sank in. Chloe had had a boyfriend. Her daughter’s first boyfriend. Her daughter’s first breakup. She was not being the mother you were supposed to be for that.

But then, your daughter’s first breakup was not supposed to involve her sending demons after people.

“Um, can I get home?” said the girl. “So I can go to bed and not fall asleep in class tomorrow?”

“Take her home,” Chloe said with resignation. “So my mom can get back to work. I distracted her after midnight so I’m already in for it.

The demon looked at Nina. She made a gesture of “go ahead”. The demon and the other girl both vanished.

Chloe glanced at her mom. “You can go back to painting,” she said. “And we can never talk about this again." Before Nina could respond, she added, “Were you ever going to tell me I have some kind of weird, creepy god… goblin?”

That time Nina could not avoid a snort. Carefully casual, she asked in return, “Were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend?”

“I mean, it never really came up.”

Nina raised her eyebrows. “Well. Yeah.”

Chloe snorted.

“You should go to bed. It’s after midnight.”

“You should also go to bed, but you’re not going to.”

“If I’m tired in the morning, that’s my problem. If you’re tired in the morning, that’s also my problem.”

“And my problem.”

“Well, yes.” Nina shut the door, went downstairs, and went back to painting. She hoped she’d gotten away with not explaining, but knowing Chloe she knew that was too much to hope.

This should probably all feel much weirder to her than it felt. Maybe summoning a demon to protect your daughter had set the bar for abnormal pretty high. Or maybe everyone had a different sense of normal after midnight.

Seventeen years ago you summoned a demon to protect your infant daughter. Today, you regret that decision immensely. Demons should NOT be allowed to do the bidding of teenage girls.

[reddtulips]

something something ghoap staying at johnny’s family farm that’s less than two hours away from glasgow.

they barely reach the damn place because simon insists on driving and takes a wrong exit on the highway and johnny has to piss a hundred times during the drive.

the air is crisp and cold and frosts the tips of their noses and simon forces indifference when johnny’s fingers brush simon’s to hold the duffel bag so he can close the trunk of the car.

johnny knocks on the front door and his mother rips it open, hugging his son and without a second to think, hugs simon as well and ushers them inside.

johnny’s father is a simple man and gives simon a firm handshake and a pat on his back and shows him the dining room, a feast set on the table and every salad under the sun overflowing in hand painted bowls that johnny’s mother made when she did pottery ten years ago.

johnny’s sisters are there, his niece and nephews as well, all children and simon sweats thinking how in the hell he is supposed to talk to them. are the boys at the appropriate age to know about guns and knives? or do they look at encyclopedias of greek mythology and dinosaurs? does the niece like barbie and dress up? or is she one of those girls that like to collect bugs and draw hopscotch on the pavement with colorful chalk and wipe the excess from her fingers onto her pants?

they watch him with eager eyes and giggles smothered behind tiny hands, and watch in awe when he lifts his balaclava to expose his mouth so he can eat.

johnny does the talking at the table and simon can’t understand a fucking word he’s saying because he’s gone full scottish with his family, only hums and nods occasionally. he wolfs down every piece of food, the human trashcan that he is (and because he doesn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal), and nearly combusts for a second time that day as johnny’s mam places a plate with a thick slice of apple pie in front of him, vanilla ice cream melting over it and puts a hand on his shoulder, “johnny told me ye have a sweet tooth, so i made it especially for ye.”

simon who does silent breathing exercises so he doesn’t cry because he misses this so fucking much. to sit down with a family and enjoy a meal together with loved ones and not fight, nor scream nor yell nor cry nor throw food nor break plates and it’s just laughter upon laughter upon claps on the shoulders and clutching at arms and pulling each other into side hugs and light jabs that mean nothing and don’t break into full blown fights and simon thinks he’s going to vomit.

simon who gets to see johnny’s childhood bedroom. it’s decorated in superhero posters and hanging medals and trophies from gymnastics and competitive shooting competitions. johnny turns sheepish when simon points them out, teases him and likes and fears the swirl of warmth in his chest when johnny’s ears and neck turn red. he’s told “still a better shot than you,” and if johnny were anyone else, he’s be given toilet cleaning duties for the next three months.

simon who wants to pull out and empty every drawer, check every nook and cranny and learn and suck in every single piece of information and story there is about johnny and what — there’s pictures of you as a kid? with a mohawk? fuck off, soap, lemme see.

johnny opens the left door of his wardrobe and it’s covered in baby pictures of him and his family and simon’s chest tightens but he doesn’t break his gaze. Lo and behold, Johnny points out a picture on top and holy shit, it’s him holding a fat, orange cat the size of half his body and he’s sporting a long mohawk. His cheeks are stained with tears but there’s a forced grin on his face and blood on his chin. johnny explains it was his 7th birthday, he fell off a swing, hit his chin and his mam still wanted a photo. the cat’s named ‘fergus’ and he’s still alive and has lost most of the weight. he explains more photos but simon’s eyes keep coming back to the first one and he just wants to lean down and leave a gentle kiss on the scar covering johnny’s chin.

the kids don’t leave simon alone, as much as uncle johnny protests and tells them to get tae and let ‘em rest, he’s been drivin’ all mornin’ but watches them from the kitchen with a soft smile as simon walks around with the kids hanging and clutching at his strong arms like they’re monkeys and simon can’t get enough of their giggles and ooh’s and ahh’s when he tells them heroic and child-friendly war stories about their uncle. he also tells them that he sucks ass at taking orders and sharing his MREs and that they should listen to their parents and respect their elders and share with each other. johnny smothers a grin behind his hand as simon uses his lieutenant’s voice when speaking to the kids about these things.

johnny steals simon away then, “gotta show ‘em the horses”, and simon keeps his distance and doesn’t dare get up on one of them. the cockiest, “scared, Lt.?” with a shit-eating grin from johnny makes him grab the reigns and climb on. johnny leads the horse down the field and they fall into a comfortable silence. simon can’t get enough of the peace and quiet and chirping of birds and gentle yet chilly breeze on his hands and johnny is suddenly coming to a halt.

simon looks down at his sergeant, and his cheeks are flushed red and there’s determination and well-masked hesitation in his blue eyes and before simon knows it, he’s being pulled down by the sleeve of his jacket and johnny is cupping the sides of his face and pressing a gentle kiss over the material of simon’s mask. it’s innocent, quick, almost like it doesn’t even happen and isn’t registered. but their gazes meet when they part and it’s over for both of them because simon is fervently pushing his mask up and cupping johnny’s cheeks and they’re both leaning forward again and pressing kiss upon kiss upon kiss on each other’s lips and simon finally thinks,

i’ve found it. i’ve found home.

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[thegreatstoryteller]

Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete. 

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone. 

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.  

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form. 

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed. 

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?”  Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone. 

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

A/N: I was asked for more, so I am attempting. I’ve never written anything like this. I just love the idea of dad bod Logan…or muscular, fit body of Logan’s with a tummy or a decent gut. It’d be cute. Don’t judge me.

One evening when the guys returned from a merc job, Logan goes to the bedroom to get a change of clothes while still in his suit. He can wear an outfit under it rather comfortably but this time, he noticed his suit was tight in the middle. He went into the bathroom and looked at his profile where he got his confirmation that he had a tummy. He began to strip out of his suit and kept checking himself out in the mirror, not liking what he finds. Once he pulls off his tank top, he sees that it isn’t really a gut, just pudge. Just a layer of fat on his otherwise muscular form from eating three meals a day. He wonders if he should go back to alcohol and one meal a day. He shook his head since he feels better, feels healthier, and can tell what he is doing is good for him. He has more energy and much better alertness but he doesn’t like the pooch at all. He decides to go back to one meal a day while keeping the alcohol down and just making sure to drink water instead. He can do this.

What Logan doesn’t expect when he makes this decision is how Wade acts.

Three days later after Logan has returned to eating one meal a day, Wade immediately notices the change and doesn’t like it. By the second day, he decides to eat out at places he knows Logan likes but the man refuses saying he isn’t hungry. Wade knows he is lying. The man eats like him due to maintaining his healing factor.

At day three, Wade decides to pull out the stops, he wakes early to go to that bakery Logan loves their pastry to get him a dozen with half of it solely for Logan. The man glares at Wade over his black coffee and again claims he isn’t hungry.

Now, it is the morning of day four and Logan is having his black coffee and reading the newspaper.

“So, grandpa, how’s the crossword going?” Wade asks.

Logan sips his coffee and grunts. He sets the cup down and turns the page.

“Got the funnies? I’d love to see what that stupid orange cat is doing to Jon today. “ Wade sips his khaki color coffee full of sugar and creamer.

“No, this doesn’t have funnies,” Logan explains.

“Damn. I was hoping to see what that Valiant knight was up to too. Any sudoku?” Wade pokes again.

Logan quietly rumbles as he flips through the pages and removes the pages the sudoku is on before nearly slamming it down in front of Wade. “Is there anything else you need, princess, before I go back to quietly reading the paper?”

“Actually, yes,” confirms Wade.

Logan sets the paper down and gives Wade his undivided attention.

“Why aren’t you eat? You barely have one meal a day. What changed, peanut?” Wade’s eyes are lidded and he’s frowning. Logan can smell his genuine concern. Not wanting to admit the worry, as superficial as it may sound, he shrugs. “Just haven’t been hungry for some reason.”

“I smell bullshit, Wolvie, and you know it,” argues Wade. “I don’t understand why you’d limit yourself when you’re looking great.” Logan snorts at that but Wade continues, “You seem to have more energy, are seemingly happier, and haven’t even wanted to drink more than a few beers daily. I mean, you’ve been going on jobs with me which is always a blast when you come. What could be so important that you cut back on food of all things?”

Logan mumbles an answer that Wade doesn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, honey badger, could you say that for the whole class to hear?” Wade pushes.

“My suit’s tight,” Logan barely whispers as his ears pinken.

“Your suit’s tight?” Wade’s eyes incredulously asks. Logan refuses to make eye contact and stares at the table.

“Yeah, ok?! I need to lose some weight,” Logan rumbles angrily.

Wade leans back and relaxes his body, trying to seem as non-threatening to the upset beastly of the man who has his heart. “I do sew, Logan. Why don’t you let me help you out with this?”

Logan snorts and shakes his head. “Even I know letting clothes out, let alone this suit, is challenging without matching…everything,” he acknowledges. Wade is surprised Logan understands the complexities of sewing.

“True, but I know how to get matching material and where ,” Wade grins, haughtily.

Tag: @asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3

Logan moving in with Wade and gaining weight because not only is he eating three square meals a day, but he also picked up baking because both Al and Wade have a sweet tooth, and of course the sweets are there, he’s going to eat them too. But now he’s getting kind of chubby. Which isn’t a problem really. He looks healthier than he has in decades. Except…

Wade stopped flirting with him. Straight up just stopped. And yeah Logan’s been ignoring it right along because he knows Wade isn’t actually serious about it, but it was still kind of nice to be wanted. Especially since he came from a reality where he was literally the most hated man alive. And of course now he has actual feelings for Wade, he wants the option to be there.

So he decides to not only start going to the gym but also to stop eating. And of course Wade notices and has to sit him down and ask what’s up, he’s been super healthy lately why is he changing that

And Logan can’t admit why he’s doing it so he deflects. “So going to the gym isn’t healthy?”

“You practically live there now. You’re a certified gym rat. You’re overworked and underfed. THAT isn’t healthy.”

And they go back and forth until Logan finally admits it’s because he gained weight and doesn’t feel attractive anymore. “Hell, you don’t even flirt with me anymore and I’ve seen you hit on inanimate objects before.”

And Wade stares at him for like 10 full seconds before he busts out laughing, like genuinely knee slapping chuckle fest because, “You think I stopped flirting with you because I’m shallow??? You honestly think I look like a burn victims even uglier ball sack and I’m being picky with how someone else looks?”

Logan tries to shrug it off with a “Everyone has preferences.”

“Trust me, Peanut, it isn’t that.”

“So then what is it?”

And now it’s Wade’s turn to be defensive until he realizes their conversation is just going in circles and Logan won’t stop destroying his body until he comes clean. So he has to stare at the wall as he tells Logan that it isn’t that he’s not attracted to Logan’s body anymore, it’s that he’s hyper attracted to it now, that he looks so healthy, so well fed, so inadvertently loved, and that it’s a reminder of all the domesticity of their situation that he’s actually fallen in love and can’t trust himself to casually flirt with Logan anymore because he’s genuinely afraid he’s going to do something and ruin their friendship now.

And they make out sloppy style and confess their love to each other of course

[aliwritex]

oscar thoughts: college student!reader riding his thigh 18+ 1.2k

notes: he’s a bit clueless in this and it was caused because of this pic. it’s quite silly but i like this don’t be mean

Chess at a house party. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a party and it wasn’t a house. But chess wasn’t really in your plans for the end of semester gathering. Fine, it wasn’t a gathering either, something in between. Your apartment was full of classmates, most of them, dancing, talking or having a drink. But in the corner of the living room sat your roommate and two of his friends, playing chess.

“What are you doing? This is an excuse to not use our brains and you’re ruining it.”

“Oh, come here, you have to play Oscar, he’s too good. Think you could beat him though.”

“Scott, I’m not gonna play chess when I’m hosting a party”

“Cmon, everyone’s set and having fun, have a game, please, Oscar’s feeling a little out of place.”

You were familiar with Oscar, he was friends with Scott, your roommate, and you’d met him a couple times, he was nice, polite and hot. So you sat down, watching the boy replace the pieces to the right spots.

“Best of three?”

“For what?”

“Don’t know yet, i’ll decide while we play” you teased and watched him nod and sign at the table, letting you know you had the white pieces.

Oscar won the first match, you the second, gathering low cheering from your two friends that watched.

“Right, if I win this one, I get to take you to my room for ‘seven minutes in heaven’ or more” you teased.

Said and done, you won the last round. Maybe he let you but you didn’t mind. You both got up and you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other side of the apartment as your friends cheered on him.

You sat him on the bed and he just stared up at you.

“Are you a virgin?” you bluntly asked the boy and watched him blush uncontrollably.

“I- what? No!”

Watching him stutter made you smile. You walked across the room, taking off your shoes and looking around your vanity for a clip to hold your hair up.

“You sure act like one” you told him through the mirror “relax a little”

Oscar could swear he got a peak of your underwear when you bent over to do so.

“Seeing I’m the winner, think I'm gonna claim my prize. And I’ve wanted to do this for a while”

Your confession made him choke on his breath as he watched you walk over to him. Your finger reached out for his chin, making him lift his head, brown eyes staring up at you through lashes. You kissed his pouty lips, sitting on his thigh. Your action knocked the breath out of his lungs, he could not respond to your kiss for a second.

“C’mon, don’t be so shy”

You guided his hands to your waist, under your flowy shirt. They were cold and slightly shaking but the touch felt good, reassuring. Your short skirt had bunched up around your hips, allowing you to feel his thigh muscles right against your underwear as you kissed. Your hands dived into his already messy hair as your tongue made it into his mouth.

His thumbs caressed your sides softly, a tentative touch that showed him getting more confident. His hands then reached up your back, lifting your shirt to expose your stomach and allowing him to catch a glimpse of a tattoo he didn’t know about, it made him curious.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked when your lips left his to explore his neck.

You chuckled at his question and slowly pulled away from him “Just sit here for me, yeah? Wanna use you for bit”

Your lips met his again and your hands dropped to take his to your hips. Then you started to move.

You had a particularly thin pair of panties on that allowed you to feel the texture of his shorts against your skin as your hips dragged forwards. You moved back, arching your back and letting his hands follow your hips. When you bucked forwards again Oscar understood what you were doing and he was in shock. But as soon as he recomposed himself he spread his legs further, making his shorts ride up.

Then the only thing separating you was your underwear but he took care of that too. His hand carefully and slowly met your middle, tucking your panties to the side. You groaned when you felt your wet lips meet his thigh, his cool skin contrasting with your middle.

Your hips moved faster and the pleasure made your head fall back, letting Oscar watch your body moving, in awe. He could feel your thigh muscles flexing beneath his hands as you moved and he was watching the way your breathing became ragged.

Your hands left his shoulders for a second, just to pull down the straps of your top, it made your boobs fall out of it, right on his face. Then you were back at it, hips moving fast, hands grabbing his shoulders, tits on his face and occasional pretty moans, you were putting on a show for him.

And it was working. He was watching like he didn’t want to miss a second of your performance. And you could feel his hard cock pressing against your knee when you moved. You couldn’t lie, it felt powerful to have him like that, under you, watching so mesmerized. You would love to concentrate on his face to see his reactions but you were already feeling your insides tighten.

Moans started coming out of your lips with no filter, you knew the music in the apartment was loud enough that only Oscar would hear them. Your thighs tightened around his and almost stopped you from moving. You were about to lose your high when his hands met your hips again and helped your movements.

You squeezed his shoulders tightly when you came, legs also tensing up around his till he was trapped. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as you did, watching your face contorting with pleasure, head thrown back and mouth open, a strangled moan making its way out.

He sighed when your head finally dropped to his shoulder and your body relaxed on top of him.

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo” he whispered to the side of your neck as his thumb caressed the mark on your stomach.

“I don’t go around showing it to everyone. Maybe you could see all of it some day though.” you teased as you pulled away, kissing his lips quickly.

A string of wetness connected your cunt to his thigh when you got up, the view making him groan. He watched from the bed as you pulled your straps back up and your skirt down but instead of straightening up your panties you took them off. You thought about it for a second before throwing them on his lap.

“You sort yourself out,” you told him through the mirror again as you let your hair down this time, now allowing him a view of your wet cunt when you bent over, “see you outside”

Oscar just watched you walk out of the room, he couldn’t say anything, just throw his body back on the bed and think about what happened.

[reikoinoue]

notes: caleb is 25 while reader is 23.

the first time you saw your big brother step brother donning his fleetspace colonel uniform, you felt a strange sensation running down your spine.

caleb had come home for the holidays, giving your mother a hug as your father stood proudly beside her, his hand clasps heartily down against caleb’s broad shoulders. your parents step off to the side, allowing his vivid gaze to meet with your shy expression.

“hey pipsqueak, i’m back. why don’t you come here and give your big brother a hug?”

you give him an innocent grin, running straight into his arms when he picks you up and crushes you to his chest, spinning you around the foyer while sneaking in a kiss against the top of your hair. you felt your cheeks heat up at the sudden sensation, knowing that your parents knew nothing of the true meaning behind his kiss.

all too eager to celebrate your brother’s momentary return, your parents head off into the kitchen to prepare dinner. always being none the wiser (turning a blind eye each time caleb pulls you achingly closer to him), your parents busy themselves in the kitchen while caleb practically carries you in his arms, rushing up the stairs to his old bedroom while holding his luggage at the same time.

your heart begins to race with anticipation, wrapping your arms around caleb’s neck when he brings you back into his bedroom. setting off the luggage to the side, he gently closes the door while breathing in the lingering scent in his room. “you’ve been sleeping in here when i was away.”

you wrap your legs around his waist, appearing a little too innocent when you jut your lips out in a pout. “i’ve missed you so much, big brother. sometimes, i dream of you while putting on your shirt…”

caleb’s breathing hitches in response to your confession, thumb tracing at your bottom lip when he asks, “tell your big brother what else you’ve done in his room.”

you shift uncomfortably in his embrace, “your scent still lingers here… a-and sometimes, i like to get in your bed and r-rub myself on your pillows.”

a low groan escapes from his lips, eyes darkening with lust when he tosses you on the bed. “is that why i can smell your scent lingering in the air?” he thrusts his thumb into your mouth, “you’ve been rubbing your puffy clit against my pillows?”

you let out a whimper, hands going between your legs when you saw his erection forming a tent in the front of his uniform. “y-yes, and now… i want to rub myself against your cock… you look so good right now, gege. so so so good.”

letting out a grunt of your name, caleb quickly unclasps his belt, pulling down the zipper of his pants along with his boxers, revealing his half erect cock to you. “we don’t have much time. use your mouth to stroke me to full hardness. do the same to me as you did with my pillows, brat.”

you got on your knees immediately, wanting nothing more than to please your big brother as you gently removed his cock from the confines of his boxers. you place his length within your hot and awaiting mouth, using your hands to stroke whatever couldn’t fit as you felt his dick lengthen within the palm of your hands. caleb bites down on his bottom lip to help with silencing his groans, only pulling your mouth and hands away from him when he was certain he was hard enough.

pressing your body on top of his mattress, caleb pulls down your shorts while shoving your panties to the side, guiding his cock within your slick folds before sheathing himself in one, swift motion. he begins to pound harshly in and out of you, the sounds of the bed creaking in tune to his rapid thrusts makes you arch your back in response.

just as your moans threaten to echo throughout the house, caleb covers your mouth with the large palm of his hand, stroking his cock in and out of your slick as the squelching sounds were heard throughout the room.

the sound of both of your names being called by your mother makes you unexpectedly clench around him, causing caleb’s hips to stutter briefly when you heard her gentle knocks against his door. “dinner will be ready in ten minutes, so get changed and come down when you’re ready, caleb.”

“hn, you got it mom.” your eyes were close to rolling to the back of your head, the thought of your mom almost catching you and caleb in the act made the pleasure you felt increase by a tenfold. the way your arousal seemed to flood around caleb’s cock did not go unnoticed by him, with his darkened gaze looking down at the spot where you were connected to him, “look at you, you’re practically frothing around my dick.”

he licks his lips while spreading your legs wide open for him, “did the thought of mom catching us excite you?”

you whimper, feeling your walls clench one last time as it brought both you and caleb over the edge. with one final thrust, caleb stills his hips, allowing your respective climax to rush through your veins as caleb desperately swallows your moans with another searing kiss.

while his cock was felt pumping the rest of his cum (painting your walls white with his seed), you hear your parents calling you down for dinner. while you were left feeling like putty, caleb immediately pulls out his softening cock from your heat, making you whimper at the sudden loss of him. he readjusts his uniform while fixing his hair as well.

“c’mon, baby, we gotta join mom and dad for dinner.” he hurriedly fixed your ruined panties while pulling up your shorts, opening the door while guiding you back down the stairs before setting your trembling form on the dining table.

and as caleb served you a plate of food, you found that you had a different appetite when you felt the evidence of his seed running down the inside of your thighs.

a.n. - three posts in one night because i’m feeling risqué

(⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[melosliving]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a story about aaron and reader are arguing because reader is jealous about him having to kiss a girl in a movie he was doing and he had to prove to them that he loves them and only them. please and thank you

Let me cook !! I hope you’ll like ! (I felt free to add smut to it because why notttt)

aaron pierre x actress!reader

Warnings : +18 (MDNI), nasty smutty, established relationship, jealousy, cranky reader

It’s been a long day for both of you. The set was chaotic, the director demanding, and the long hours had made you cranky. But what truly sent your heart spiraling was the news you’d just heard.

Your man had to kiss another woman for a scene in his movie. You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but as you stood in the doorway of his trailer, the words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your stomach twisted, your chest tightened. You knew it was part of his job, but that didn’t stop the jealousy that clawed at you, irrational but raw.

Now, sitting in his car, you can barely look at him. The tension between you two is palpable, and the silence is thick, uncomfortable.

Aaron looks over at you, his jaw clenched, but his eyes soft. “Baby, talk to me. I don’t like when you’re like this.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, staring out the window. “Like what?”

He takes a breath, turning fully towards you now. “You’re upset. I can tell. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.” You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “I just… I don’t get why you had to kiss her. I know it’s your job, but—”

His hands fly up in frustration, but not in anger. It’s more like he’s frustrated at himself for making you feel this way. “No, listen to me, okay? That kiss meant nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I know it was just acting,” you say, voice small. “But still… You kissed her. I don’t know if my weak ass can handle that."

He reaches over and gently places his hand on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “Baby, I’ve been kissing you for years. There’s only one person who has my heart, and that’s you. No matter what’s in the script, no matter what I have to do on set, you’re the one I’m coming home to.”

You glance at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you see is love. His eyes are soft, pleading, and filled with everything you need to hear.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” he continues, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Tears start to sting your eyes as his words hit you. Slowly, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too papa,” you whisper, gently playing with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to be jealous like this. I just… I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you like I do.”

Aaron leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you never will. Because no matter what, it’s you and me. Always.”

Now, as the rest of the trip was quiet, the only audible sound being the radio, you thought things had calmed down between you. How wrong you were. You didn’t even the time to step out of your shoes that aaron took you to y’all’s bedroom.

"Aaron- what are you doing ?" You asked, following him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension between y’all thickened, and even if the only source of light in the room was the sunset’s, you could still see aaron slightly tightening his jaw as he looked down at you.

It was like he was actually realizing just how deeply all of this was affecting you. He pulled you closer to his, brushing his lips against your ear. " I’m sorry you felt that way. I need to show you you’re the only one who can have me.”

He never actually felt like this, never been the object of one’s jealousy. But this was nice —apart from the part where it makes you upset– it made him feel even more connected to you.

That’s how he now had you wrapped in his body, almost in his skin. His dick was buried in you so deep, but his fingers were so delicate on your skin, his kisses so gentle. "Papa is so sorry for making you jealous baby, will you forgive him ?" He asks as he fucked himself into your sweet pussy. You felt so good around him, your hips grinding to try to meet his.

"haa– fuck !"

"C’mon tell me bub. You forgive me ?" He asks again, lips against your shoulder. You whine softly, trying to push back against him.

"Yeah baby, you’re forgiven- mh !" You whine. Aaron chuckles a bit before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, he is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. your head dropping to the pillow below you as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear him groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." He praises you, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"Oh my— why are you fucking me like this ?..feels so good.."

"I wish you could see this baby." He praises again through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. "I’m yours baby, take your dick."

You needed this so bad and you actually loved the fact that you were the only one who could give him this type of relief.

Yours yours yours yours yours. he was yours.

Your forehead presses against the bed, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time aaron hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, almost making you feel lightheaded.

"Please make your pussy cum papa, im so close." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and aaron holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when his hand actually snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Papa this dick feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. "Nah, this is your dick baby, say it."

"My dick—It’s mine, mine, mine." You repeat mindlessly, pleasure taking over you. "shit, I love you too baby." He answers.

Aaron loved when he could reduce you to incoherent words and disconnected statements because of him. slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and he can only offer a few more sloppy thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum.

chest heaving from the exertion, aaron feels more relaxed than he has all day. There's a small smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sheets.

"Are you okay bub ?" You hear, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face. "I’m sorry i got cranky over this, I love you."

"That’s okay mama. I understand you, but I want you to know I’m yours, only yours."

@ melosliving 2025

[truelovepolinator]

State of the Ship Address: Where we stand after the Hard Launch

Well, this has certainly been an interesting week, hasn’t it?

Last Saturday, I was the happiest of shippers, sharing why I’m so sure it’s Luke. By Wednesday, I was sharing my thoughts on why Nicola’s “just a friend” comment was nothing to worry about. Yes, truly, Nicola’s comment was a hit to the ship. A very palpable hit. Yet, we sailed on. Then on Thursday, well, the ship very nearly sunk with Luke’s Hugo Boss “hard launch” of Antonia. Nearly.

There’s one thing I’ll say I know for sure. Nicola knew she was getting that question about fans wanting her to marry Luke and she had her answer prepared. I have no doubt about that. In all likelihood, her people asked him to ask that question. Otherwise, it’s out of the box for that kind of industry/awards promotion interview. It’s not an interview for the fans, it’s for the voters. She WANTED to dispel the idea that she and Luke might have fallen in love on set because that perception would hurt her chances at the SAG Awards.

There’s no question that Nic and Luke decided together that the time had come to send an armed nuclear torpedo into the ship for once and for all. And so, they did. Indeed, it’s only thanks to our wits, grit, and some very skillful maneuvering that we managed to keep the ship from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. We may be taking on water, but we’re bailing it faster, and we’re still afloat, if only just.

This does not, however, mean that I’m ignoring what they’ve said this week. On the contrary, I’m paying very, very close attention. I’m paying attention not only to their words (or in Luke’s case, the story he’s telling with that hard launch), but also to the subtext, the backstory, the character histories, and the outtakes. I’m paying close attention both to what they’ve told us and to what they haven’t.

I’m thinking about every bit of it. I am, by nature, very analytical. In the Lukola intelligence community, I’d say I’m more of an analyst than a detective. I don’t go out there gathering information (tracking every tag, monitoring friends, family, adjacents, finding old, hidden content, etc.). I don’t even know how to get metadata from Instagram. I’d be grateful if someone could tell me.

But when the detectives bring me evidence, I analyze the hell out of it. There are great detectives out there, but that’s not my skillset. I’m great at sitting at my desk and studying the evidence presented to identify patterns, interpret clues, and assemble those clues into a watertight case.

I thought that’s what I had, a watertight case. And you need your case to be watertight when you’re sailing these rough seas, right?

Then this week, Nicola and Luke decided to tell me my case had fallen apart, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel. I’m not as devastated as I thought I might be. I think that’s because I’m still not sure I believe them. They’ve both told us the same thing this week, that they are absolutely, positively not together. They’ve told us in no uncertain terms. And I always thought I would believe them if that time came. And yet, there’s something just a little too suspicious and convenient about the timing for me to trust it entirely. It doesn’t quite pass the smell test.

To be clear, I’m not saying I definitely don’t believe them. I think it’s very possible they’ve told us the truth this week and we simply have to live with it. We have to shift our ship back to “endgame” mode, and out of “happening now” mode.

In some ways, this would be a relief. If I actually accepted that they are not together at all at this point, I could begin to let them go. If I don’t see their launch coming, why hang around? The wait for endgame could be eons. I love them together, but I could do a hell of a lot of other things with my time in the meantime. Why do I need to follow and discuss their every move if it’s not headed to the only result I care about? I could check out completely and let them do their thing.

I’ll watch Bridgerton, and their other work when it looks interesting, and otherwise peace out. I don’t have to be “a fan” to enjoy their work. I have loads of favorite actors whose work I love, and I follow very few of them on socials. I could simply shift NicLuke into that category and move on.

I don’t actually have to care so much about them. All this parasocial bs takes a lot of time and energy, and while that investment of time and energy is good for them because we keep them in the public discourse, it’s not necessarily the highest, best use of our time for ourselves, is it? I could just let it go. We could all just let it go. Wouldn’t that be a relief?

The problem is that I do care about them. They got us hooked during that World Tour and now we’re invested. I’m invested. I’ve put a lot into them and I’d like a return on my investment, thanks. I want to see them happy. Together. I want to see them happy together. Many of us do. So, what if we don’t get that?

Well, I’ll come back to that question. But right now, I’m more interested in the question of WHY. Why did they decide now was the time to torpedo the ship? After all these months of weird, yet skillful combination of utter silence and semi-explicit hints and breadcrumbs. Why now, after a year of active shipping, seven full months after the WT ended, long after Bridgerton 3-month ratings were locked, why spontaneously this week? And why did they do it in such a coordinated way? The SAG nomination, yes, but is there more to it?

I have more theories and variations on theories than I can count. But here are the four key interpretations I want to explore.

It’s exactly what I said this week with Nicola’s interview and my quick post on Thursday. They are still together, with major life changes ahead, and Nicola is up for a SAG. They need more privacy than ever AND Nicola needs to distance herself from the “they fell in love on-set” narrative so that she can be taken seriously as the terrific actor she is, who acted her ass off in Season 3. She doesn’t want to be seen as someone who was only that good because she was “really falling in love.”

They’re genuinely not together, Luke is actually with Antonia (whether on-and-off or all along) and they decided to shut down the shipping now purely because it was impacting Nic’s SAG nomination (see 1 for details). Or maybe L also decided it was time to launch to take the invasive scrutiny off his family.

They’re not together, L is with A, and Nic knew he was going to take her to the HB event, so she prepared fans and pre-empted any “poor, rejected Nicola” perception by saying what she did during her interview.

They were together, and now it’s over (not mutually exclusive with 2 or 3).

You’ll notice none of these theories turn on Nicola’s hypothetical romantic relationship with Jake. This is largely because I have always said that simply isn’t a romantic relationship. And regardless, it’s not relevant to this week’s developments as the state of her relationship with Jake is unchanged from the past few months. That’s not a new factor in this week’s decision.

Obviously, number 1 above is my preferred explanation. It still continues to be the only explanation that makes sense of absolutely everything we’ve seen. INCLUDING Nicola’s words in that interview, and even Luke taking A to that event if you follow the logic of protecting themselves at a critical time both personally and professionally. It’s easy to forget all the extensive evidence pointing to this, but a review of my recent posts will refresh you. There is much to this saga that literally only makes sense if Lukola is real and the other apparent relationships are PR fakery/fuckery to keep our eyes off the truth.

However, this week, they have actively told us that is not the case. So, we owe it to ourselves to be emotionally and intellectually honest and to be open to the other possibilities as well.

Okay, so let’s talk about options 2 and 3. Both posit that Luke and Antonia are really together. Or at least casually dating. It is certainly possible that Luke simply wanted or needed a date to this event and Antonia is a casual date. Certainly, their body language is not particularly close or affectionate in most of the photos or videos. And A clearly does not calm Luke’s anxiety and event nerves like Nic always could and did. And they didn’t seem to hold hands naturally, nor did their arms around each other seem particularly close or natural in most of the photos and videos we saw. And yet, they did walk and pose arm-in-arm as a couple. No arguments there.

It has been widely noted that the Daily Mail story featuring Luke attending this event with his “girlfriend Antonia” was published mere minutes after the first event photos were published. And the story talked way more about A and her vague resume/background than about Luke. For all the world, it sure looks like this appearance was designed to give Ant a PR boost with a story pre-planted and ready to roll. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t together.

There is one video recorded inside that shows them in a different light. They seem to be enjoying themselves together, laughing, smiling, and talking close. However, there was loud music, it seems, so all talking needed to be close. We saw this when Luke talked to David Beckham as well. David was leaning in and Luke was talking directly in his ear, so clearly, volume was an issue. But he did have his hand on her back and she even copped a feel of his celebrated lukey newts butt. Yes, that video looked very couply indeed. Again, no arguments.

Did I like it? Of course not. Obviously, I hated it. I loathed it even. Do I wish the whole evening would crawl away and sink itself into the bottom of the ocean in lieu of our very leaky ship? Yes. But that video still exists, as does the other photographic and videographic evidence.  So, it’s irrefutable, right?

Almost. There is one thing that rankles a bit in that video. And indeed, about all the Luke & A stuff that came out so quickly. Literally, it all dropped faster than even the Beckham stuff, and Beckham was the host of this event. Why did it all hit so fast? Okay, sure, we already established it was at least partly planned PR for A. But why was that video so exclusively focused on the two of them specifically? What was the videographer doing shooting them from behind, ostensibly “in secret and candid,” for so long? Why so much footage (edited from pieces, therefore taken over time) of the two of them specifically, including that saucy, little butt grab?

If indeed this evening were intended to launch A with the explicit intentions of 1) blowing up the ship and 2) promoting A as the official girlfriend, then it’s not hard to imagine Luke’s PR handler/escort for the evening whispering a little encouragement in his ear. Something like, “It’s not really playing yet, you need to give it more. You two need to get cozy, amp it up, and we’ll get it on video.” Of course, it’s also entirely possible that this “canoodling inside” video was always planned as the final blow to seal the deal after the red carpet content hit.

And, to be fair, it’s also possible that they simply relaxed once they got inside and started having fun. If theirs is a real relationship, whether long-term, serious or a casual dating one, then that would make sense. But why were they so tense on the red carpet to begin with if they’re so close? Why did they look so uncomfortable? Either way, it seems someone had a very clear intention to capture “proof” of the relationship.

Now let’s shift gears and talk about Nicola briefly. Let’s start with this. Nicola is a terrific, gifted, hard-working actor. She deserves all the accolades. She’s worked hard to achieve the success she’s now enjoying and she sure as hell deserves her SAG Award nomination for her beautiful, delicate performance that was by turns moving, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and hilarious. She’s the real deal. And she’s unbelievably, ridiculously beautiful. To my eyes, many times more beautiful and sexier than the other woman who appears in this saga, for what it’s worth. That’s perhaps beside the point, but I wanted to throw it in anyway because what can I say? I’m feeling a little petty and in the mood to spit truths.

She’s also a woman with a right to privacy. And a woman with a career to maintain and grow. And an award nominee who’s campaigning for a win, knowing even if she doesn’t win, the nomination will open doors for her as long as she is taken seriously. And maybe, just maybe, a woman with big life changes coming up fast. I fully support her in doing what she needs to take care of herself and those she loves. And knowing what I know, having seen what I’ve seen, believing what I believe about her, I still believe she would absolutely do what she needs to do in this critical moment.

So, I’m just going to be honest and say I simply don’t know what to think at this point. I still believe number 1 above makes the most sense, both logically and emotionally. But… but… sigh.

There’s also another very real possibility, which is that Lukola has indeed been just as real as we all believe – and now, sadly, it’s over. I actually believe this could be a very real possibility, though this possibility breaks my heart most of all. But I think it’s distinctly possible that they tried and it just didn’t work out for any of the millions of reasons couples don’t make it all the time. Plus, as I’ve written about before, all the reasons they have extra challenges because of their lives and jobs. So maybe the shipping was sweet to them while the relationship lasted, but is painful now that it’s over.

I wish this didn’t feel so valid as a possibility, but it does. And this, too, would make sense of just about everything, unlike the alternate versions where the adjacents (or at least one of them) have been real partners all along. But who knows? As ever, none of us (and none of the Jakolas) knows them, so none of us will ever know anything for sure. Unless they one day decide to come clean.

I’m a big fan of the show Castle. Castle and Beckett, or “Caskett,” is one of a small handful of fictional couples that I have shipped with devotion. I LOVED Caskett and could not wait until they finally got together. The delicious tension, the longing, the near misses, the banter, the micro expressions that broke your heart. They were perfect together. Unfortunately, in reality, they grew to hate each other by the end, but onscreen, they were fire. I will never not love Caskett.

Lukola is my one and only real-world ship, and I will never not love them. Unless they really blow it with too much BTS fuckery. I feel as if they are continually jerking me around and playing games, and I’ve been A-OK with that as long as I knew where it was headed. I was willing to ride the waves of the choppy seas because I knew where the ship was sailing and I loved the destination. I didn’t begrudge them hiding behind PR fakery (or fuckery) because I had faith it was in the best interest of their careers, privacy, and more recently (once I settled into my personal opinion regarding the delicate matter), their family.

That may yet be the case. And if it is, I am 100% there for it.

But if it’s not, if Antonia ends up being a real relationship, that’s going to be very, very hard for me to accept. I’ll do my best to stay the course for Luke as an actor, but the side I see of him as someone dating her is not the same good guy he sold us on the tour. Not the same sweet Colin-alike that the cast has told us he is. Not the same perfect man Nic has told us he is. Because the choice to be with her – based on what I know of her (as well as her youth) — reflects poorly on him, in my opinion. I’m not sure about his “treatment” of her because there’s so much we don’t see and a lot of assumptions are made on that front. But simply based on who she has shown herself to be through her posts and the jobs she’s taken, I can’t respect the choice. I would accept him with many people who aren’t Nicola, but not her.

And my feelings about Nicola would also be dented because she’s posted so many of the crumbs that have (intentionally) kept me hanging on. And if, by some strange twist, she is dating Jake, well… I have a higher opinion of Jake than Antonia. I have no real issue with Jake. From what little I’ve seen of him speaking, he seems like a good kid, earnest about his work, maybe even sweet. But like Antonia, he’s so young. Setting aside aside all the other reasons I don’t believe they’re dating, he’s still 13-14 years younger than her, and just starting out while she’s sailing the heights. I have to be honest and say that the age difference and the power differential do make me uncomfortable.

Her relationships are still not my business. Nor are Luke’s. But as a consumer of media, I do get to have feelings about the people I stan and where I choose to devote my energies. As I said, Lukola has been my one and only ship. I’ve loved them individually as well, but if I’ve been played for a prolonged time, if they’ve been stringing me along with a fake ship, how can that not sour me on them as individuals?

So, yes, if these particular, adjacent relationships are real, my respect for each of them will take a hit. But they can date other people. I’ll get over it. I’ll be disappointed. I’ll think they’ve missed out because they clearly have something truly unique and special, maybe more unique than either of them realizes yet. I still believe they’ve gotten together at some point, but if they’ve now moved on, I’ll sigh and move on as well. And hope that one day, they find their way back to each other where they belong. That’s what endgame means, after all.

However, I will say again that I am not yet entirely convinced that the adjacents are anything more than I’ve long thought they were, decoys and distractions. Or that these latest hits to the ship (the mom comment, Nicola’s interview, and the “hard launch”) are anything more than ramped up efforts to camouflage the truth at a crucial time.

But the one thing that is crystal clear is that they want us to back the fuck off. Whether it’s out of a time-sensitive need for greater professional separation for career reasons (awards consideration chief among them) and greater privacy for family reasons… or because it’s actually true that they are not together at this time… either way, they’ve clearly decided to shut down the shipping this past week.

And this brings me back to Castle. If you know Castle, then you know there was a long-running throughline story about who murdered Kate’s (aka Beckett’s) mother. For years, Kate was obsessed with finding who was responsible and what happened, and more than once, that fierce dedication led her to go too far on the job. She’d stay on cases when she had a clear conflict, she’d hide things from her superiors, she’d go rushing into danger in a ruthless pursuit of the truth. Needless to say, this behavior eventually led to a suspension even though she was the best detective in the precinct. But instead of accepting the suspension, Kate tossed down her badge and quit, because OBVIOUSLY, she was going to go right on investigating privately.

So, am I going to pull a Kate Beckett and charge forward, despite every warning, to investigate every lead until I get the truth? No matter what it costs to me or those I love (namely, Lukola)? Or will I sadly accept my suspension, hang my head, and take some time at home to catch up on my Netflix until the clock runs out? Hmm… Maybe, a little of both?

Here’s what I’m going to do. Keep watching. Keep collecting information, analyzing, and seeing how I think the picture most clearly takes shape. And I will keep sharing my thoughts with all of you.

But since they want us to back off, I will slow roll those observations. For my part (NPC that I am), I will politely take a step back and give them the time that I believe they need for certain very specific reasons. If they need folks like me to back off, then I will. At least for now. And I’ll see what the next couple of months bring.

At some point down the line, depending on how things shake out, I may feel comfortable going full force again with my thoughts and opinions. But right now, it’s my belief that there are things important enough that I’m willing to take a step back to support them, because my intention has only ever been to share my thoughts and bolster the spirits of my fellow shippers. Never to harm Lukola.

In the meantime, I won’t disappear entirely. I may blog a little less, and maybe shift a bit to lovely Polin. Or maybe I’ll end up blogging more with short, fun stuff in lieu of the analysis. Who knows? Got to keep busy somehow, at least unless or until I decide to step off the ship entirely.

Actually, now that I think about it, it may be time to rewatch Castle. At least I know Caskett will never let me down.

[midnite-c6]

hear me out — nam-gyu is actually soooo icky. i don’t care what anyone tells me. he’s a icky icky man. he’s so fucking mean too. he thinks of women as possessions (he’s sooo misogynistic. you can’t convince me otherwise) like what do you mean women are their own person and can control their own lives?! no…. they are possessions!

additionally, he is sooo convincing with his words — he can get anyone to trust him quite easily (especially if they’re naive) and he’s taking full advantage of that.

honestly nam-gyu probably has anyone naive trying things they were always against. he has such a way with words when it comes to getting anyone to open up or doing what he wants them to do. he'll give them everything they need to get them to say yes even if it means making promises he doesn't even plan to keep or fulfill.

also, no one can convince me otherwise that this man doesn’t have a thing for trad wives. he definitely likes the idea of codependency and the fact that someone clings to him like a second skin (but let’s be honest, he definitely doesn’t make it out to seem like he likes it — it’s always constant degradation from him: “stupid bitch, can’t ever do anything for yourself, huh? i have to do everything for you”). also likes the idea of baby trapping, because you can’t leave him ♡ but 100% does not like kids.

i also can see him fetishizes the FUCK out of lesbians (once again… this man is ICKY) and i definitely feel like if he was the type to get into a relationship with someone who is bisexual (or closeted lesbian. specifically if he coerces them) he would exploit the shit out of it. bro definitely has a premium subscription to ph. constantly doom scrolling to find something he hasn’t watched yet (specifically lesbians or threesomes (two girls, one guy) it’s definitely one of his biggest fantasies. he is soo gross ♡)

he would probably likes giving some naive, lightweight (never done drugs before) drugs that he knows they wouldn’t be able to handle just so he they can take advantage.

I AM GOING INSANEEEE. i am clawing and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon, baby trapping

bro i am so sorry i haven't let this out to the public sooner, this is so good and factual fr 💔 like this guy is an misogynistic incel honestly, idfc what anyone else says, u literally can see it in the show how he treats se-mi. he's a meanie.

THE PH SUBSCRIPTION IS SO REAL. also, forces or not, makes u watch porn with him, the disgusting ones like heavy bondage/bdsm, prolly whilst sticking a wand vibrator on ur clit in a setting that's intense BUT wont make u cum so its pure torture..

guys has anyone done se-mi x reader x nam-gyu ? like hello? hello????? ITS RIGHT THERE prolly would watch u & se-mi whilst he's cucking himself. or he's right in the middle of the action, both ur pussies rubbing on his dick.

also, i love nam-gyu corruption kink, to someone whos absolutely clean, pure, law abiding citizen, prolly doesnt even know half of the kinks or stuff u see in pornhub, BUT THAT'S WHY NAM-GYU EXISTS!! to teach you allat, to corrupt u :^

i just dont feel like hes a good person at all, in smut mindset, and in fr the character, hes those toxic bfs who's only "strong" cuz u're just a lil bit weaker than him. and if u try to leave, nuh-uh, u can't, u wanted a child to begin with right?

"fuck you mean, 'i'm leaving you'? bitch please," he scolds, pumping another load inside- straight to your womb, "you wanna be a single mom?" you shake your head immediately, you were on birth control.. but maybe not... oh no! "then don't bullshit me with saying you're 'leaving me'... you know you love me." let's just hope he'll be a good dad... (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

if anyone needs a fluffy lovey namgyu smut this aint the place.. jk, i would prolly post one too heheh <3 also, now i wanna make a full on incel!nam-gyu x reader smut mannn

[inseobts]

A New Perspective

trafalgar law x reader

law turns into a woman and suddenly you're having at lot of fun at the view.

words count: 2.3k

tags: minor spoiler(?), gender switch, romance, bisexual reader, funny

masterlist // ko-fi

The Polar Tang cuts through the sea, its steady rhythm the only sound until a sudden crackle of energy fills the air. You barely have time to react before your entire body feels like it’s been flipped upside down. A flash of light, a sharp tug, and—

You blink.

You’re staring down at yourself in utter disbelief.

“Wait a minute…” you mumble under your breath, staring at the unfamiliar body in front of you.

Gone is the familiar curve of your body, now you’re standing there, with the body of a man. You glance down at your broadening chest, the flatness that replaced your curves, and the new set of muscles beneath your clothes. Your voice comes out lower than usual when you speak, still in shock. “What the hell just happened?”

Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“y/n, are you okay?”

You spin around to see Law, but…

What the hell?

Instead of Law’s usual sharp, masculine form, there stands a woman, still with his signature demeanor, that same authoritative presence, but now in a woman’s body. His—her—eyes lock onto yours, scanning you in equal confusion.

“What’s going on?” Law says, voice strained as she glances around, clearly just as disoriented as you are.

“Well,” you chuckle, blinking a few times to make sure you’re not seeing things, “this is… new.”

You step closer, trying to take it all in. And, damn, Law looks good as a woman. Her legs are long and toned, the frame lean yet feminine. The sight of her—him, but as a woman now—has your heart racing. You can’t deny it; she still has that Law confidence, just wrapped in a more delicate package.

You curl up on the ground, trying to hide the redness of your face.

“Is something funny, y/n?” she snaps, her eyes narrowing, clearly uncomfortable in this form.

You can’t help yourself. You grin. “I’m just trying to figure out how you can look so good like this. Honestly, I don’t think I’m complaining.”

Law’s cheeks flare red in an instant, and she crosses her arms, clearly trying to remain composed. “This is not the time for this, y/n”

You take another shy step toward her, eyes flicking down to her long legs. “Come on, Law, you have to admit you’re kind of… hot and beautiful right now.”

Her eyes flash “Cut it out. I need to figure out how to reverse this before you get a nosebleed”

You chuckle at her discomfort but can’t stop the rush of attraction that surges through you “Oh, I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable, Captain?” You look her up and down again, letting the blush spread across your face “It’s just—” You pause, your voice dipping into something more flirtatious. “You’re looking really good. I mean, what do you expect me to do? You know I’m bisexual, and my beautiful boyfriend just turned into a beautiful version of himself as a woman. You can’t understand how that feels right now.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Law’s eyes flash with something that almost seems like frustration—or maybe… embarrassment?

“You can’t be serious,” she mutters, trying to maintain her usual stern tone but failing as her face betrays her. “You can’t just say things like that.”

You step closer to her again, letting your gaze linger on her, enjoying how she squirms beneath your stare. “Oh, but I can. And honestly? I’m loving it.” You take another deep breath and let the words slip from your mouth, relishing in the playfulness “You don’t know how good I think you look right now, Law.”

You can see the flush deepening in her cheeks, her hands clenching in obvious frustration. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin all standing nearby, watching the exchange with wide eyes. The crew’s eyes flicker between you and Law, amused by the situation but clearly awkward.

You turn to the crew, raising an eyebrow, still grinning “Don’t act like you don’t see it, guys,” you say, voice almost playful. “Law’s looking fine right now.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence, and then Bepo scratches his head awkwardly, glancing at the others. “Well, uh… it’s true, she does look pretty cool…”

You let out a laugh, turning back to face Law. “See? Even the crew agrees.” You pause, then add, “I’m just saying, though… You’ve really got my attention right now, Captain.”

Law lets out a growl, clearly fed up. “You need to stop with that. We need to figure this out, and I’m not going to—”

But you cut her off, stepping even closer, your voice low now as you tease. “Okay, fine. But I have to ask…” You pout at her “Do you think I look handsome? Do you think I’m, uh… fuckable like this?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Law, her eyes locking onto yours in sheer disbelief, and for a split second, she doesn’t say anything. Her gaze flickers to the crew, who are now looking at you both with wide eyes and nervous chuckles.

“You—what?” Law stammers, her face completely flushed.

You grin wickedly, clearly enjoying the flustered look on her face. “Just curious. You’ve seen how you look now, so I’m wondering if I’m equally as handsome in this form” You add a wink for extra effect and trying to flex the muscles that you actually don't have.

Law stares at you, her expression a mixture of irritation and something else, but before she can reply, you see her posture change, that familiar frustrated sigh escaping her lips.

“You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s a hidden smile tugging at the corner of her lips, betraying her usual stern nature.

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on your face “You can’t deny it. I look good, right?”

“Well, of course you look good, you idiot, you're still y/n after all” she snaps, but the words are softer now, almost affectionate. She takes a step back, obviously still flustered, but you can tell that the playful tension between you both has shifted.

“I guess I do,” you say, voice lowering. “But, for the record, you still look way better than me.”

Law shoots you a sideways glance, her lips curving into a small smile. “I’m not going to say I enjoy hearing that, but… Fine. Whatever, y/n.”

You step closer one last time, your eyes locking onto hers. “You know, I might just keep you in this form a little longer if you keep getting flustered like this.”

Her eyes narrow, but this time there’s no real bite to it. “I swear to God, you’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

You grin, shaking your head “Not a chance.”

You step closer to Law, your grin widening as you take in the flustered look still lingering on her face.

“So,” you start, your voice teasing, “before you turn back into a man… would you mind giving me a kiss?”

Law’s eyes widen, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “W-What?” she stammers, clearly caught off guard. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” You cross your arms, smirking. “I mean, if you’re gonna be all hot and bothered in that body, you might as well give me something to remember you by, right? A little kiss, maybe? Just one. Even a fast one it's okay. Before the magic wears off and you turn back to your usual, grumpy self.”

Law looks like she’s about to refuse, but the playful glint in your eyes seems to challenge her. Her lips press into a thin line as she glances around, trying to maintain her usual, no-nonsense demeanor.

You take a step closer, lowering your voice to a soft, almost flirtatious whisper. “C’mon, Law. I’m not asking for much. Just a little kiss. This form makes me brave enough to even flirt.”

Law takes a deep breath, clearly weighing her options. She meets your gaze, and for a moment, the playful tension in the air thickens. Her eyes flick to the crew in the background, and she sighs, rubbing her temples. “This is insane,” she mutters under her breath before lowering her voice. “I’ll give you a kiss. But not here. Not in front of everyone.”

You raise an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk still playing at your lips. “I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you in front of the crew. Just one little kiss, and then we can get back to this mess.”

Law takes one more look around at the crew, who are doing their best not to make eye contact, awkwardly pretending to be busy. With a huff, she grabs your arm and tugs you toward the corner of the ship, away from the prying eyes of the crew.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally turns to face you, her eyes narrowing in irritation, though you can still see the traces of warmth there.

“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “One kiss, but only because I’m about to lose my mind from your teasing and only if you promise you will stop”

You grin, feeling victorious. Slowly, you lean in, letting the moment hang in the air between you.

Law hesitates for a fraction of a second "I'm not gonna enjoy this at all" and then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, quick kiss.

It’s over almost as soon as it started, and before you can fully react, she pulls back, quickly straightening up, her face now a deep shade of red.

“That was… you’re impossible,” she mutters, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, clearly embarrassed.

You chuckle softly, your eyes glinting. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Captain.”

Before she can say anything else, you both hear a noise from behind. You turn just in time to see Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin awkwardly glancing in your direction, trying not to make it obvious they were eavesdropping.

“W-What happened?” Bepo stammers, his ears twitching nervously.

You laugh, trying to hide the grin that’s spreading across your face. “Oh, nothing. Just a little kiss between the Captain and me. No big deal.”

Shachi and Penguin exchange looks before awkwardly muttering, “Uh, okay…”

Law gives you one last glare before turning to the crew, shaking her head. “You’re all idiots, I wanna die right now” she grumbles, but even she can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The crew too shocked by what was happening in front of them to even notice their bodies also changed.

In an instant, everything shifted back to normal.

Your body, once again your own, feel right in an instant. The familiar curves and weight of your form returned, and you look over at Law—who now stand in front of you, the sharp edge of his usual confidence returning as his tall, masculine form was restored.

You both share a stunned silence, then slowly, the truth hits you.

You're back to normal, but in your mind, the embarrassment hits you like a ton of bricks.

The heat from the blush that hadn't quite faded from earlier is still present. You can't stop replaying the teasing words you’d said to Law. Some of the things you said were borderline ridiculous—and downright embarrassing. But there is no time to dwell on it. Not when the crew is in the middle of a tense situation.

"Oh God…" you murmur, your face turning a deep shade of red, thinking about everything you had said and done earlier when Law was in his female form.

Law, who clearly feel the same wave of awkwardness, ran a hand through his hair and gave you an unreadable look. "Well," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "that was an experience I’d rather not repeat."

You look away, unable to make eye contact with him. The memories of your flirtatious teasing, the way you had openly complimented his (her?) body, and your playful taunts feel a hundred times worse now that you are back in your own body.

“I… I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s not every day I get to see you in a different light, you know? I didn’t mean to—”

Before you can finish stumbling through your apology, you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. You look up to find Law standing right there, his expression softening.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he says, his usual calm tone still holding but with an undercurrent of reassurance. He pulls you into a gentle, almost reluctant hug, enveloping you in the warmth of his tall, solid frame.

You let yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you, as if everything in that moment just made sense. Law’s presence, the way he always seems to know just what you need, made everything feel okay again.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice low, his arms strong around you “I know you didn’t mean anything bad. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

You bury your face in his chest, your hands gripping his jacket as you let out a sigh of relief. “I just… I said a lot of things, Law. And you were—well, you were a woman. I didn’t mean to… make things that weird”

There's a brief pause, and then you hear a soft chuckle come from him, causing you to look up in confusion. “You’ve always been a little bit of an idiot,” he says with a gentle smile, but there's no malice behind it—only fondness.

You blink, the corners of your lips twitching as you feel the last of your embarrassment start to melt away. Law is always the one to make things feel less awkward, even in moments where it is impossible to avoid.

“You look even more beautiful now, if I’m being honest,” you mumble shyly, not able to fully stop the words from escaping. You figure he probably can’t be any more uncomfortable at this point, so you lean into the embrace a little more.

Law’s arms tighten around you, and the next thing you know, he is pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutteres affectionately, but his tone soft, a small but genuine warmth in his voice. “But you’re alright.”

[coco-loco-nut]

High Stakes

pairing: lando x reader

summary: Lando can’t help but to fall for his teammates elusive childhood friend

masterlist requests open

————————————

You strut out of the casino eyes locked on your phone as you change your flight back to Australia. The casino threw a few perks at you, and who are you to say no to free stuff. You don’t even notice as you walk into a brick wall, or someone built like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly stuff your phone into the black Birkin on your arm. The bag is a contrast to the champagne dress that glitters under the city lights.

“No that was my fault,” you look up, the sound of another Australian voice piquing your interest.

“Australian?” You ask, watching the man study your face.

“Y/n? Oscar,” he says, your face lighting up.

“Osco, I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. What are you here for?” Oscar was your best friend when you lived down the street from him. You moved to a different town a few years later, losing touch quickly.

“I’m a race car driver, what are you doing here?” Oscar notes the clothes your wear, the same designer brands he sees WAGs wear in the paddock.

“Oh, you still race? That’s so cool. With, um, Daniel Ricciardo?” you try to pull a name from the back of your mind.

“I actually replaced him, he’s retired now,” Oscar spares the messy details since it’s pretty clear you don’t have a vested interest in motorsport.

“Oh, that’s sad. Hey, it was nice seeing you again,” your goal is to hit the club you frequent in Vegas, and you only have so long before the line gets too long and won’t let you in.

“Right, yeah, enjoy your night,” Oscar watches you walk away, looking like the opposite of the girl he used to play in the dirt with.

“Miss L/n,” the bouncer smiles, taking your tip as you bypass the line. Taking your phone out of the purse, you leave the purse at a bag check, the staff knowing to take care with it and they get a nice reward. You only come here after winning big anyway - and you ALWAYS win big.

You slide onto a stool at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. He’s the reason you frequent this one in particular. He makes a mean drink and is quite pleasant to look at. He picks up a liquor bottle, winking at you down the bar.

“Welcome back, this one’s on me,” he slides a cocktail to you before going to serve another customer. Maybe tonight you will actually give him your number, but the cat and mouse game you have going is too much fun.

The cocktail is fresh, something you haven’t tried before. It’s like a mix of some of your go to’s. You finish it quickly, craving the pulse of music.

“Going so soon?” the bartender asks as you slide a five to him.

“I need to dance. I’ll be back,” your sly smile makes his eyes follow you as you exit to the main club.

You find the bar once again. The one with the shitty liquor that serves everyone’s main goal. Getting shitfaced. You order two green tea shots, the familiar set of the local dj calling you to the floor.

“Your shot is on me,” a British man, or boy based on his height and struggle to grow facial hair, says as he slides beside you. You raise your eyebrow, passing one of your shots to him. You can sacrifice the buzz you are chasing for an adventure.

“Cheers, but I think you owe me another round now,” your eyes sparkle like the dress you are wearing. The man’s eyes rake your body as you throw the shot back. He quickly follows suit before ordering another round.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you. I didn’t expect to see an Australian in the States. What’s your name?” he says, filling the time as you wait for the shots.

“I didn’t expect to see a Brit, but here we are,” you smile, unwilling to give your name until he gives his.

You take the next round quick, itching to dance.

“Lando, mate, the team is waiting on you to do the round- Y/n?” a familiar face appears beside you once again. Lando, the boys name is Lando.

“Twice in one night, are you stalking me Piastri?” you tease.

“No, we are here celebrating with the team. This is where you were in a rush to be?” Oscar asks and you nod. Lando looks between the two of you confused. Of course his teammate knows the Australian he just met.

“I always come here when I’m in Vegas. What’s next, Osco? You’ll be in Monaco next week?” you laugh. Oscar realizes how little you really know about racing or him.

“Not next week, no,” Lando answers. For a minute you forgot about him.

“We need to get back to the team. Want to join us?” Oscar asks you, a little disappointed when you shake your head.

“I need to get on the floor and dance. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you walk off towards the crowd of moving bodies.

“How the hell do you know her?” Lando watches you leave.

“Old friend, we were best friends for a few years before she moved away,” Oscar explains. Maybe third time will be the charm in getting your number so you can actually stay in touch. Lily has asked about you when looking at old childhood photos.

“She’s hot,” Lando comments, following Oscar back to the team.

“I couldn’t tell you the first thing about her anymore. I looked her up on the way over here and nothing came up. No socials or anything,”

“Odd,” Lando shrugs. An hour later you are back at the bar, and Lando strikes again.

“Do you travel a lot?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yeah, when I’m not in Australia I travel for work. About a month ago I was in Singapore, around Marina Bay, and before that Macao. London, Paris, and Sydney are other places I frequent,” you tell him, shame letting your eyes roam his body, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“I travel a lot too,” Lando takes a step closer. one goal in mind.

“I should start visiting new places. You know, I’ve never been to the middle east,” you wave your hand, thinking it would make your statement bigger.

“You should come to Abu Dhabi, Osc and I will get you a paddock pass. You’ll be in Monaco for a couple weeks, right?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yes, but I was planning on going back to Australia after,” your eyes narrow, unsure at what he’s getting at.

“I’ll be flying to the race from Monaco, why don’t you join Oscar and I on the flight there and fly back to Australia with Oscar?” Lando offers. You turn your attention to your phone, Lando fears he lost you.

“Give me your number, I’ll let you know tomorrow once I am sober,” you hand your phone to him, allowing him to enter his details.

“Everything ok?” Oscar asks, startling Lando as he returns your phone to you.

“Yeah, Lando just invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you turn to Oscar, extending your hand to him. “I’m going back to the casino hotel, let’s stay in touch this time,” you watch Oscar quickly make a contact for himself, sending a text so he has your number as well.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Oscar asks, concerned.

“Enjoy your party, I’ll be fine,” you let your drunk impulse take over, hugging the shy man before strutting away to get your purse.

“I wish I knew more about her. She’s so different from the girl I grew up with. I’m sure my sisters or mom could tell me,” Oscar says, watching you leave. You don’t even stumble, despite mixing heels and alcohol.

“I think she works for casinos. She mentioned traveling for work and everywhere she goes there are a lot of them,” Lando guesses. Oscar shrugs.

“I’ll ask around,” Oscar replies, turning your words over in his mind.

You thought about moving to Monaco, you love it when you are in the small country,but you can’t seem to permanently leave Australia. Monaco always treats you well, yacht parties mixed with rides around the city in expensive cars, not to mention all the money you win. It really is a tempting move. Maybe one day.

Lando picks you up outside the hotel, his chauffeur takes care of your luggage while you slide into the back. Oscar and Lando were very helpful in planning the last minute trip, despite the racing and team meetings.

“I got you a gift,” Lando hands you an orange bag. You open it and pull out a shirt and hat.

“Thank you so much. Orange isn’t usually my color-“

“Papaya,”

“But I will definitely wear it during the race. Thank you,” your brow furrows at the interruption as you carefully place the clothing back into the bag.

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya. McLaren is very insistent on that. It’s my hat and Oscar’s jersey,” Lando says, watching you tuck the bag beside your feet.

“I see,” an easy conversation falls between you as you approach the airport. The private jet awaits. Oscar is already inside when you arrive.

“Welcome aboard,” Oscar greets you as you settle into a seat. Some more people who you don’t know join the flight.

“Carlos, this is Y/n. She’s Oscar and I’s friend,” Lando says as the man extends his hand to you. You shake it, examining him.

“Nice to meet you,”

“How do you know them?” The Spaniard asks you.

“I grew up with Oscar and ran into him in Vegas. Lando invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you simplify the story.

As soon as you reach cruising height, Lando pulls out a case from a closet.

“Do you like playing cards?” he asks you, setting the black leather case onto a table.

“Occasionally, I love solitaire,” you sit down beside Lando.

“Name of the game is Texas Hold‘Em,” Lando sets it up as the group buys in. You look at your cards and the people around you.

You fold early despite your very good hand, needing to tank yourself.

“Let me take a look at that,” Lando says at the end of the round, checking your cards. “You had a straight, you should’ve stayed. It would’ve won,”

“It would? Silly me, I guess I’ll have to learn as I go,” you bat your eyes. A little lying to get some action never hurt anyone.

“I can teach you,” Lando wraps an arm around your shoulder as Oscar clears his throat.

“That would be unfair, don’t you think?” Oscar says, unsure why he’s feeling protective over you. Maybe it’s because of Lando’s womanizing reputation and you being an old friend.

“It would, we can’t do that,” you agree. You easily win the next three rounds.

“What a comeback, quite impressive,” Carlos says as you collect the money at the center of the table.

“Beginners luck,” you shrug coyly. You purposely lose the next two, going all in on a pair of three’s, an awful hand. It kills you to sandbag, but it would be very suspicious if you were annihilating the group. Then the game comes to a small break for drinks and for Oscar to use the restroom, you quietly flirt with Lando. Carlos declares himself out, choosing to nap instead.

“My offer for lessons still stand,”

“Oh? How would we go about those,” you ask, brushing your leg against his while you gently set your hand on his bicep.

“You, me, and a game a strip poker in my room tonight,” Lando suggests, eyes darkening a little as you lean closer.

“Sounds marvelous.” your devilish smile sets Lando’s mind racing as you turn towards Oscar to talk.

“Why are you pretending to not know how to play?” Oscar arches his brow at you. Slowly but surely, it’s like the two of you never moved away from each other.

“It’s fun. I don’t know how to play that well anyway,” you smile, playing off your lie.

“He’s my teammate, you know,” Oscar’s voice has a tone that warns you not to fuck up.

“I know, Osc. It’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’m not in the right place to start anything serious,” you shrug, knowing Lando’s reputation.

“Does he know that?” both of you glance at Lando who stares like a lost puppy dog.

“I’ll make sure he knows, don’t worry,” you promise as Lando calls both of you back into the game. Fifteen minutes later, Oscar folds.

“It’s just you and me now,” Lando says, both of you with an even amount of earnings.

“Don’t hold back on me,” you bat your eyes innocently as you get your hand. Oscar peeks over your shoulder, watching the cards.

“Don’t you dare fold,” Oscar hisses, you feign confusion and nod.

“Let’s see your cards,” Lando says, laying his down first after your final bets. You checked him, not wanting to discredit your lie.

“Is this good?” you ask as his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, yeah. You won, four of a kind,” Lando pushes the money towards you.

“No, I couldn’t. You keep it. I’m well enough off anyway,” you give him the money, not really interested in the winnings of a one hundred euro buy in.

Lando starts to protest, but you move from the table to your seat before he can get a word out. You put on your headphones and pull out a book. Oscar follows Carlos in the pursuit of sleep. Two hours down, six more to go of the flight.

You feel a presence beside you and look up from your book.

“What’s up?” you ask, pulling an earbud out, marking the page of your book and setting it down.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. You glance around the plane as he inches closer to you. You feel his hand brush against your arm.

“Lando,” your breath hitches, his face close to yours.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, your head tilting up against your better judgment.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper, lips almost brushing his.

“Why not?” you get the sense that he doesn’t care as your head starts to spin and there is a strange pull between you.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” you state.

“Good, this is just a bit of fun, right?” his hand runs up and down your leg as you fight your body from getting closer.

“Right,”

“So kiss me,” Lando’s voice is breathy as he connects your lips. You pull back as you feel yourself losing control.

“Lando, we can’t, not here,” you shake your head, trying hard not to be pulled in by his puppy dog eyes and curls.

“Ok, what if we talk instead?” he sits back in the chair. You let him ramble, feeling yourself start to drift off. Lando notices you yawn as you try to carry on the conversation.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you apologize, shifting in the seat to a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay, planes always put me to sleep too,” Lando doesn’t take your sleepiness to heart.

“Wanna listen to music?” you ask, pulling out your headphones. Lando simply nods, taking an earbud from you.

He feels a light weight on his shoulder a few minutes later. A quick glance tells him that you fell asleep. Lando can’t stop the butterflies in his chest. A beautiful woman is unintentionally using him as a pillow, it’s natural. He will never admit that he has a crush, but he wishes that you didn’t insist it is all for fun. Lando knows that Oscar doesn’t trust him with you, despite your recently rediscovered friendship. He will just have to prove it.

Unfortunately for Lando, you see more of Oscar and less of Lando during the weekend. You also left earlier than planned, citing a family thing that needed you back in Australia.

Oscar talks to you frequently, but you don’t show to a race. Lando asks questions, and even finds your social media, but it’s private and Oscar gives vague answers. It is nearly a year until Lando sees you again in Singapore.

Oscar and Lando are exploring Marina Bay when a casino advertisement catches Lando’s eye.

“Osc, is that-“

“Y/n,” Oscar finishes Lando’s sentence.

“Play where champions play. Poker champion? I thought she didn’t know how to play,” Lando reads the ad and your description. You started playing some public tables and tournaments in the past year, the sponsorship and casino money was alluring. You play private tables most of the time, but a tournament or two never hurts.

“I guess we were wrong,” Oscar stares at it.

“She lied to me,” Lando is shocked, he thought you had some natural talent, but you let him teach you. He feels a little stupid.

“She lied to all of us. It kinda explains why she never told me how she got rich or what her job is,” Oscar frowns, watching as security exits the casino to escort a guest in from the black SUV.

Without thinking, Lando moves towards the entrance. “Y/n!” he calls out to you, watching your head snap over in surprise. Oscar approaches Lando, staying a few steps behind.

“Lando? Osc? What are you doing here?” you ask, the security silently encouraging you to keep walking.

“We have a race-“ Oscar starts, but you cut him off.

“Don’t stand there, follow me in,” you tell them before saying something to the security. Whatever you said, it lets Lando and Oscar get near you.

“You have better security than we do,” Oscar says.

“Well, the casino wants to protect its assets,” you shrug.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Lando seems off, colder than usual. You glance around.

“Not here, in my suite,” you say, leading the way to one of the best rooms available.

Lando and Oscar gape at the opulence, it’s nicer than their rooms.

“You are here for a race?” You ask as you pour a glass of water.

“Yeah, do you want a pass?” Oscar asks without a second thought.

“Sure, maybe I’ll bet on you to win,” you smile, crossing the room to take a seat.

“Why are you here?” Lando asks, first Vegas an Monaco, now Marina Bay.

“Work. I’m playing a few tables and a tournament for sponsorship purposes,” you lean back in the chair, not sure of how much you should say.

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, curious at the standoff and tension between you.

“I lied. I only recently started playing public games,” your eyes narrow a little, gauging the room.

“Why?” Oscar asks, bringing himself into the conversation.

“Why I lied or why I only just started playing publicly?” you don’t get an answer so you choose to answer both. “I lied because I wasn’t comfortable with my career and I didn’t want to be judged,” your arm raises to scratch your neck, an emotional cue that you haven’t been able to stop yourself from doing. “I also didn’t want to embarrass you. I only just started playing publicly for more money and casino sponsorship,” you watch their reactions, crafting your words carefully based on the small cues they give you.

“So what do you do exactly?” Oscar pries.

“I play card games and casinos invite me to play worldwide. It attracts regular people to have high caliber players in house, and the expensive tables are lucrative for me. It’s simple marketing,” Lando looks at you, the wheels turning in his mind.

“So you do work for the casinos?” he asks, wondering if his first guess from when he met you was right at all.

“You could say so, yeah, in a way,” you look between both of them. “Any more questions?”

“How did you start?”

“I just kinda fell into it. Picked up a lot of games quickly and had natural luck and talent,” you answer, you seem so nonchalant about it.

“How rich are you?” Oscar knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but he’s curious anyway.

“I am not answering that,” you laugh, almost affronted that he would ask. “Let’s just say, I could retire right know and live very comfortably for the rest of my life,” you answer. It helps that you’ve made some very good investments over the year to build your net worth. Even if you lost money on an expensive buy in, you’d be well off.

“Holy shit,” Lando whispers, glancing at Oscar who meets Lando’s eye. There’s a subtle shift in the air. The way they look at you now is different. It’s like even though they knew you were rich from how you dressed, they didn’t know how so it was pushes aside. Now it matters to them. This is the reason you don’t tell people. Not because they are likely to ask for money, it’s the judging. Like the way you earn your living makes you a bad person.

“Look, if you guys want to judge, that fine. I made my money legally and that’s what matters to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am contractually obliged to make an appearance and play a public table,” you stand up, resolute in yourself and the choices you’ve made with your life. If they judge you or want to act like they don’t know you going forward, that’s their prerogative. Lando and Oscar watch as you leave, one security guard remaining by the door to escort them out.

“Should we follow her?” Lando asks, feeling like they’ve fucked up. They didn’t have to say a word, the way they reacted told you enough.

“Yeah,” Oscar stands, a pain in his chest at how quickly you turned cold. “There’s a reason she keeps people at an arms length, I think we are that reason,” Oscar murmurs, the shame setting in.

“Can we watch her play?” Lando asks the guard as he brings them back to the main floor.

“Yeah, check the map over there,” the guard points to a wall, leaving Oscar and Lando to fend for themselves. They stay silent as they walk through the casino, finding the poker tables. A small crowd is near yours spectating.

“Why didn’t she tell us from the start?” Lando asks quietly as they approach.

“I assume she doesn’t want people to ask for money, same reason we don’t always disclose our career,” Oscar shrugs, he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to admit it.

You are sitting at a 1,000/2,000 no-limit game of hold'em. Typically you would be at a super high roller table, in a fancy room, schmoozing with execs and other professional players. But this is a business appearance, and all you have to do is win a few hands then you can leave the table.

“Maybe. Maybe she thought that because we were rich, we would understand and wouldn’t judge. We are her friends,” Lando’s voice cracks slightly, they stay silent as they are within earshot of the table.

They lean against a railing, separating the few people near them from you and the table.

Oscar feels bad for the people brave enough to play you. Your eyes are cold and calculating, not one muscle on your face moves as you observe. You slowly build a depth of knowledge about your opponent’s, balancing poker strategy with the emotional game. It’s impressive.

“She’s like a strategist and driver combined,” Oscar murmers, barely loud enough for Lando to hear. Lando simply nods in agreement as you toss a coin into the pot, calling the bet. You are not only doing the strategy that a team would do for Lando and Oscar, but the emotional game that Lando and Oscar do when driving.

“This is so hot,” Lando whispers as you seem to win with ease. Luck seems to naturally fall to you, but it’s just skill. You glance up from the little bubble of the game, noticing Lando and Oscar watching, but you make no indication of it.

“There’s been rumors that she is going to join a professional tour,” someone beside the two drivers says, quiet enough that it doesn’t disturb the game, but loud enough that it catches Lando and Oscar’s eye. So you were serious about being more outward about your career.

Lando and Oscar are gone by the time you leave the game, and you aren’t surprised. You don’t stick around, you just collect your money and retreat to your room. Typically you would indulge in the amenities that the casino has to offer- the bar, restaurants, spas, etc. When you get to your room, there is an envelope near the entrance. You open it and find paddock passes for the weekend. Your hand shakes slightly as you pull them out, a frown settling on your face.

Despite your better judgment, you show up to the first free practice. You don’t wear the gear that the boys got you, opting for a neutral outfit.

“Y/n L/n! I’m Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing,” a man extends his hand out to you. “I’m a huge fan so I was thrilled when your agent reached out to request paddock passes,” your eyes narrow slightly in confusion. You don’t have an agent. He does look like he would follow the poker world though, and your emergence into the public tables has been a hot topic recently.

“Thank you for having me,” you shake his hand. He turns and waves a hand, your eyes follow his motion.

“These two are our drivers, Lando and Oscar,” Zak introduces you but you don’t offer a hand to shake, keeping them folded in front of your chest. Oscar’s heart hurts, a year of rebuilding the friendship washed away.

“We will show her around,” Oscar offers, having some free time.

“Thank you, Oscar,” you ignore Lando, finding it harder to forgive him. You’ve known Oscar for longer, which makes it easier, even if it shouldn’t.

“Right, I’ll see you later,” you don’t dare to look at him, his dejected voice tells you enough.

“I’m really sorry, I was just stunned. It’s not really a career you think about,” Oscar starts, knowing you’ve already had a tour of the McLaren area.

“I take it you are my so-called agent?” you ask, ignoring his apology.

“Guilty. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to give you the option of acting like you don’t know us, in case you needed space,” you nod at Oscar’s words, processing them with every step around the paddock.

“I talked to Lily. I’m sorry for storming out on you abruptly. I realize that it was a complete one eighty from how I was moments prior. You weren’t the one judging, and I overreacted a bit,” you take a deep breath, offering an apology of your own, one specific to Oscar.

“You think you overreacted because you were scared of being in that position already. You had a right to remove yourself from the situation, and I’m sorry I had a part in it. You are my friend, and that is more important than anything else,” Oscar bolsters you, and reiterates his apology.

“Thank you, it means a lot to have you as a friend,” you open your arms slightly, inviting your typically stoic friend in for a hug. Oscar carefully wraps his arms around you, not much of a hugger.

“Should we talk about the other elephant-“

“Nope,”

“Gotcha. Want ice cream?” Oscar asks as you stand outside of Ferrari.

“Always,” you tentatively follow him inside.

“I was jokingly adopted by Charles, now I get to come in and get ice cream,” Oscar shrugs, explaining as if it’s no big deal. You are out as quickly as you went in, but you acquired your target.

“Some fans posted photos of Lando and I leaving the casino, we got asked if we had gambling addictions,” Oscar tells you between bites.

“Really?” you choke back a laugh. “What did you tell them?” you ask, curious as to how they played it off.

“We said that wanted to see if it was like the casino in Percy Jackson,” you shake your head, taking another bite of the ice cream.

“Well, that’s one excuse. By the way, are you even allowed to have ice cream right now?” you ask, realizing that he’s probably on a diet.

“No, but it’s worth it. You’d be surprised how often drivers break their diets. It’s not like major, just a little cheating,” Oscar waves it off. By the time you return to McLaren, it’s like nothing happened between you. “I’ll be back in a minute, wait here,” Oscar says, leaving you at a couch while he disappears into another room. Lando takes the opportunity to pounce, sitting in the chair closest to you.

“Y/n? Can we talk?” you feel your heart freeze. You turn your head away from him slightly, staring out the window. “Please?” his voice breaks, and you silently look at him. You don’t say a word, but he takes the bit of attention you’ve given him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I judged you when you offered your trust. I hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and I know that it’s hard to forgive in moments like that,” Lando shifts closer, but still keeps some distance.

“I expected more from you,” the words sting as you look back towards the window. Lando looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I know. I never wanted to ruin what we have,” your head snaps over to stare at him.

“There is no we. We kissed once, and it didn’t mean anything. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” you practically seethe and Lando is afraid he poked the bear.

“Right,” Lando whispers. He knows his reputation. One he’s wanted to change since meeting you, but you don’t know that. “You’re right, I misspoke,” Lando says even if it kills him to. “I just meant that we had a friendship starting and I was excited to get to know you more,” he covers his butt, telling you what he thinks you want to hear. You don’t expect it to hurt, but it does.

“It takes more than that. It will take time and effort,” you don’t know why you are making him work for it, but the words feel right. Lando’s eyes light up a little, there is a chance. Maybe he can find a way to win you over, but there is one big obstacle in the way. The one standing in front of him. Oscar.

“We have to get ready for our first practice session. Feel free to take food or drinks,” Oscar tells you, silently telling Lando to leave. You give Oscar a nod, letting him know you are okay.

Surprisingly, it’s you who finds Lando next. It does take until after the second free practice, Oscar and Zak kept you busy. You can’t help but feel a little guilty after sitting with your thoughts. He’s in a quiet spot, leaning against a railing. You wouldn’t have known it existed without Oscar unintentionally giving it away. The secluded spot is invisible to the rest of the paddock and cameras, perfect for being alone. It’s odd, seeing him so quiet. You stand beside him, a decent amount of space between you.

You can tell he knows you are there, but neither of you speak. It’s an odd comfort, standing in silence with someone whom you admittedly don’t know that well. Your silent standoff, like a game of chicken, ends when Lando unintentionally steps closer and you take the first metaphorical step.

“One chance. One shot to earn a fragment of my trust back,” you murmur into the darkness, eyes trained on the night sky above. You didn’t think you would care, that you could dismiss him like every other guy who hurt you before. You didn’t expect to feel guilty.

Lando doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a kiss. It’s different than the one shared on the plane. This is tender, unrushed, nearly a year of yearning being poured into it. His hand finds your neck, fingertips in your hair as you melt into the kiss. The other hand finds itself on your waist. You may not know where you stand with him or your readiness for any semblance of a relationship, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lando gently pulls away to breathe, his eyes searching yours as his hands keep you close.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to be better, to strengthen my relationships and working on myself to be worthy of you. You made me want to be better, even if you didn’t want me. I don’t know where you stand as compared to last year, but I want you,” he stresses his last word, driving it into your soul and it hits you. He doesn’t care what you do for a living, if you are rich or poor, or even that Oscar is likely your closest friend. He likes you enough to want to better himself.

“Lando, I-“ the words leave your mouth before you begin to think.

“Shh, don’t say anything unless you mean it,” he stares into your eyes, igniting a fire deep inside. Something shifts with that fire, a stone building your resolve.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, allowing yourself to be pulled back into Lando’s orbit. His soft lips kissing you once more - this time with more passion yet just as soft as before.

“We can take this slow, at whatever pace you need,” Lando promises against your lips. He feels like if he lets you a step further away, you will disappear for another year.

The rest of the weekend passes by with stolen glances, quick kisses in hidden corners, and the thrill of brushing hands. You feel like a school girl, but this time you and Lando agree to keep in touch and already have dates planned.

Keeping it quiet only lasts until the end of the season. You couldn’t hide it from Oscar or keep it a secret, so you were upfront with the truth - things are starting to turn serious.

You are in Monaco when Lando returns from Abu Dhabi. You spent the week setting up your new apartment, choosing a cheaper place. It helps you feel like you aren’t wasting money when traveling.

A knock on your door prompts you to pause your music, rushing towards the door while trying not to hip check one of the boxes in your living room.

“Surprise!” Lando grins holding takeout bags in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!” you throw your arms around him, taking in the moment.

“I got an earlier flight, didn’t feel like partying two nights in a row,” he says into your shoulder before stepping out of the hug and into the apartment. He looks around, setting the bags on your wooden dinner table. “This looks so much nicer than when we tour it,” Lando compliments your hard work. The lighting is soft and inviting, plush rugs adding a coziness that makes him want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch that looks perfect for a nap.

“Thanks, it’s really coming together,” you smile, there are a lot less boxes, most just decoration that need placed. You help Lando with the dinner, settling in on the couch to eat. Lando was right, the couch is incredibly comfortable and soft.

“So I was thinking, my friends do this card game night a couple times a year, and I want you to join me, if you’d like,” Lando proposes between bites, locking eyes with you.

“You want me to meet your friends?” you nearly choke on your food. Sure, Oscar knows that you and Lando are seeing each other, but that’s it.

“Well, I’d really love for you to meet them as my girlfriend,” Lando studies your reaction. The way you instinctively school your face to not give a reaction before your brain reminds you who you are with, then a smile creeps onto your face.

“I would love to meet your friends as your girlfriend, but this isn’t you bringing me with you as an advantage?” you ask just to be sure and because you are still processing that he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Well, it is a plus, but I just want them to know how awesome you are and rub it in their faces,” Lando sets his food on the coffee table and moves closer to you so your knees are brushing.

“Lan,” your voice is soft, overjoyed at the thought. You set the food aside and lean in to kiss him.

“So, what do you want me to do first?” Lando looks around the room at the boxes, ready to help with whatever you need.

“Lando, you just finished your season. Don’t worry about the apartment,”

“I want to help my girlfriend set up her new home,” he insists.

“Well, in that case, let’s start… in the bedroom,” your sly smile turns to a grin as Lando chases you into the bedroom, his arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and carry you to bed.

You lay under the sheets together, bodies pressed against each other, the darkness of the room inviting for deep conversation.

“Why weren’t you ready when we first met?” Lando asks the question that he’s wondered since seeing you in Singapore.

“Every guy who I got close to, every friend I made, always did one of two things: try to use me for my money, and or ghost me because they thought I was a criminal,” you admit, allowing yourself to come to terms with it. You answer a question Lando never dares to ask aloud - why Oscar and Lily seem to be your only friends. His heart hurts for you, you don’t deserve that treatment, even if he hurt you in a similar way before.

“There is nothing wrong with your career. You play legally and honestly, no one has a right to judge,” Lando reassures you, you whisper thanks and savor the comforting silence of the room.

Lando rarely leaves your apartment those few days, only going to retrieve the essentials. Now you sit in his friends apartment, liquor flowing as you are deep into the card games.

Lando whispers in your ear, a mixture of flirting and telling you to stop sandbagging yourself. His leather jacket covers your shoulders, he claimed to be too warm with it on while you were a little cold in your t-shirt.

“Read it and weep,” you show your hand, grinning as the boys groan and Lando laughs. He wishes real money was being spent, you already ran a couple of his friends out of the game - including himself.

“Where did you find her? She’s much better than you,” one of the guys teases Lando, who wraps an arm around your chair. Your cheeks flame a little as you nod in agreement.

“It isn’t hard,” you laugh, swatting Lando’s hand away as he lightly pinches your shoulder.

“Didn’t any of you do a background check on my girlfriend? You need to learn from every girl group ever,” Lando shakes his head, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Hm, we do tend to know everything about a guy our friend is seeing,” you hum.

“Detectives, all of them,” one of the guys agrees as another is furiously google searching you.

“Holy shit. You are so much cooler than he is,” another tells you, making your cheeks even more red. Lando captures the moment in his memory, how adorable you are when you blush.

“I make more than him, so he’s my WAG,” you tease as an outlet for the mix of embarrassment and flattery.

“And I’m proud of it,” Lando doesn’t lie, he would rather be your WAG than have any other girl by his side. Another round gets dealt and you hone in on the game.

“You’re so sexy when you play wearing my clothes,” Lando whispers in your ear and it takes every bit of willpower in you to not react. It’s like a game to see how far he can push your limits. “I can’t wait to take you home,” he says before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hand moving down to rest on your hip.

The alcohol in your veins makes it hard for you to control yourself. His jacket weighs heavily on your shoulders, as he continues to whisper his plans for you later that night. Your skin is alight as his fingers trail the bit of exposed skin at your hip.

You fold, having a bad hand and your mind spinning with desire. A fake yawn gives Lando a cue to cut in.

“I am afraid it is past our professional’s bed time,” Lando’s eyes shine playfully as you avoid the smirks on his friends faces, the ones that tell you they know why you are leaving.

“Well, this isn’t a casino, no need to be up this late,” you yawn again, playing along as you stand. Lando gives his goodbyes as you exchange the always awkward ‘nice meeting you’s’.

You hand is warm as your fingers interlock with Lando’s. He leads you down the stairs and out to his car, giggling as you tell him to slow down before he breaks an ankle. Pure bliss is how Lando would describe it. Just the two of you in the empty street, stars twinkling in the night sky, Lando pinning you against his car with your hands around his neck. You would give anything to stay there forever.

[miniscapes333]

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

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PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

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[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Her servant ✞⛧

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, femdom, strap-on use, dominance and submission, power dynamics

Word count: 1.2k

You were dusting the ornate shelves in Mel Medarda’s private quarters when her voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

“Come here.”

The command was low, smooth, yet undeniable. Your hands froze mid-motion, the feather duster trembling in your grip. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting hers across the room. She sat in her plush armchair by the fireplace, her golden-toned skin glowing in the firelight, her almond-shaped eyes piercing into yours. She was the epitome of elegance, her hair styled into an intricate updo adorned with delicate gold accents that caught the flickering light. Her lips, painted a deep, rich red, curved into a subtle smirk that made your stomach twist with both fear and desire.

You set the duster down and approached her, your heart pounding in your chest. Every step felt like an eternity, the weight of her gaze making your breath come shorter. When you reached her, you stood tall—or as tall as you could manage under her scrutiny—your hands clasped neatly in front of you.

“Yes, my lady?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mel didn’t respond immediately. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her wine glass. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, until it became almost unbearable.

“Kneel,” she said finally, her voice soft but commanding.

Your knees hit the carpet before you could even process the command. The plush fibers cushioned you, but your heart was racing as you lowered yourself before her. You kept your eyes downcast, staring at the delicate embroidery on the hem of her gown. Her presence loomed over you, suffocating and exhilarating all at once.

“Look at me,” she said, and you obeyed immediately, your eyes lifting to meet hers. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a spark in her gaze—something that made your stomach flutter.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said, her tone as calm as still water. “Stealing glances when you think I’m not looking. Isn’t that right?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I—I don’t know what you mean, my lady.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the way your eyes linger. The way your breath hitches when I’m near. You’re drawn to me, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burned, your entire body trembling under her scrutiny. There was no denying it now. She knew. She had always known.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Mel chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” she purred, leaning forward slightly. Her fingers brushed against your cheek, and you gasped at the contact. Her touch was warm, electric, and it sent a jolt of desire through your entire being.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “So obedient. So ready.”

Your breath came in short, shallow gasps as her fingers trailed down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She cupped your chin, tilting your head back slightly so you were forced to meet her gaze.

“Undress,” she commanded, her voice firm yet gentle.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the buttons of your uniform, fumbling with the fabric as you tried to obey. Mel watched you with a predatory gaze, her eyes raking over your body as you slowly peeled the layers away. The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

When you were finally bare before her, Mel’s eyes darkened with desire. Her gaze lingered on your exposed skin, and you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. She reached out, her fingers trailing down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “You’re so beautiful like this. Bare. Vulnerable. Mine.”

You whimpered, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but ache for more.

Mel stood gracefully, her gown swishing around her as she moved to a nearby cabinet. You watched, your breath hitching, as she opened it and pulled out a golden strap-on, the firelight glinting off its polished surface. She held it up for you to see, her lips curving into a smirk.

“This is what you’ve been longing for, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “What you’ve been aching for.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your body trembling with anticipation as Mel slowly began to strap it on. The sight of her, so regal and powerful, with that golden phallus strapped to her hips, was enough to make you dizzy with desire.

“Bend over the bed,” she commanded, her voice firm.

You obeyed without hesitation, your body moving of its own accord as you positioned yourself over the edge of the plush mattress. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you didn’t care. You wanted this. You needed this. As you looked over your shoulder you see the Devine view of Mel pulling her sleeping gown over her head, the white silk contrasting with her darkened skin in a way that was alluring enough to make you whine. Your eyes couldn’t help but to flick over the curves of her breasts and stomach, the way the strap slightly dug into the skin of her hips- it was all madding.

Mel stepped behind you, her hands trailing down your back, sending shivers through your body. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, her voice soft yet filled with authority. “So obedient. So ready.”

You gasped as you felt the tip of the strap-on press against your entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. Mel pushed in slowly, deliberately, her hands gripping your hips as she filled you inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure and fullness making you moan as she began to move, her thrusts steady and controlled.

“You’re so tight,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “So perfect for me.”

You whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as Mel increased her pace, her thrusts driving you closer and closer to the edge. She was in complete control, her every movement calculated to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Take it. Take all of me.”

You cried out as the pleasure built, your body trembling as Mel fucked you with relentless intensity. You were completely at her mercy, your every nerve alight with sensation as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her voice firm. “Now.”

Your body obeyed, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you came, your vision whiting out as Mel fucked you through your climax. She didn’t stop, her thrusts driving you to release once more, her hands gripping your hips with bruising force as she took you to the edge again and again.

When she finally slowed, you were a trembling, panting mess, your body completely spent. Mel leaned over you, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “Good girl. You’re so perfect for me.”

You whimpered, your body still trembling with aftershocks as Mel pulled out, her hands gently caressing your back. Her touch was soft, soothing.