#I’m busy but after after this few weeks… I will… draw… more…

[milkcurdles]

Miles.

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 6•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Everyone comes clean.

About this: some explicit talk about consent and non-consent.

-

Johnny insists that it will be easier for the three of you to talk in the ruined bathroom, which is how you end up in the bathtub. A part of you thinks that Johnny should be the one in the tub (he’s the one limping, after all), but he had taken the broom from your hands and insisted on sweeping up the remains of the ceiling tiles himself. 

“Don’t need two good legs to work a broom, hen. Be reasonable,” he’d said with a roll of his eyes. 

Simon keeps busy at the other end of the bathroom sopping up the standing water that threatens the bedroom carpet. With nothing to do and no one who would accept your help, you had minimal options: sit on the closed lid of the toilet or curl up in the empty tub. 

At least in the tub you could draw the curtain shut and retain a little dignity. 

“The bathroom needs major reconstruction,” Simon says, the close quarters and tiled walls making his voice sound as if it is coming from every direction. Not that you mind, with a voice like his. You take in this news while examining the bottles of soap and shampoo nestled in the nook of the wall, reaching out quietly to take one and pop the cap open. God, it smelled like Simon did after his post-run showers, woodsy and clean. You inhale deeply. “So we’re down to one bathroom for the next few weeks.” 

Your belly swoops with relief: they weren’t kicking you out. You peek out of the shower curtain, soap held out of view, and maybe it is partly that outlandish relief that has you saying: “That’s not so bad.” 

Simon stares, kneeling on the tiles, wet towels all around him. “It’s an invasion of your space and privacy.” 

“Yeah, who knows the sort of girly things you keep hidden in there,” Johnny says. 

Simon shoots him a dry, unamused look. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” you admit (thank God you’d hidden the only real incriminating item before Johnny had used your bathroom). “My last roommate and I had to share while we lived together. We just locked the door and tried to respect each other’s time. I’m sure the three of us can make it work.” 

“We’ll have to,” Simon says, sounding about as thrilled of the prospect as a man might be of the electric chair or other unwilling euthanasia. He turns his dark, all-seeing eyes on you. “What is it that you needed to talk to us about?” 

You pull the curtain shut abruptly. With care, you sneak the soap back into its former position and hope that Simon won’t notice it’s been moved. Your hand shakes while you do. You’re horrified to feel tears of embarrassment and shame filling your eyes, grateful for the cover of the shower curtain as you palm the tears away before they can fall. Even if they weren’t planning to kick you out, it made you feel no less shameful about what you had done on the car ride home.

“I just feel terrible about last night. What I did to you, Johnny—and you, Simon—it, it was trashy to say the least. I mean, it was predatorial—” 

The soft rasp of the broom’s filaments against the floor stops. 

“Preda—? Alright, I’m coming in there.” Johnny draws the curtain back, frowning down at you. You don’t want to imagine the sight you make: curled up in his bathtub, eyes red from rubbing them raw. He turns himself sideways and sits on the ledge, wincing as he does so. Ever attuned to Johnny’s needs, Simon reaches out and helps him adjust his leg into a more neutral position. “What’s all this? Yer no predator.” 

“You tried to stop me.” Your voice is thick, cracking at the edges. 

“I didn’t say no, not in so many words—” 

“You didn’t say yes either, Johnny,” you remind him. “If a man had done to me what I did to you last night, you’d break his teeth in.” 

Johnny’s face twists into a grim expression. “Aye. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it wasn’t right what you did—but I get a say in it too, don’t I? I get to decide what happened to me, and I don’t feel like I was taken advantage of. Jesus, I could have stopped you if I hadn’t wanted it so bad.” 

“I think you’re—” you pause, blinking as Johnny’s words make it through the fog of your own self pity. Your eyes flicker to Simon, unsure if you had heard correctly. Simon gives nothing away, his eyes reminding you of cool dark rooms, if only you could find a lightswitch to illuminate them. “Johnny, did you just say—” 

“Is it easier if I shut the curtain again?” 

“Might be.” 

“Alright.” Simon helps him stand and Johnny tugs the curtain shut again. “Let me preface this by saying that you can say no to the likes of us, fer any reason, explained or otherwise, and there won’t be any consequences! But since the day you moved in, we’ve felt a chemistry with you that we haven’t felt with many people before, and we wanted to know if you felt the same way.” 

Chemistry. That was one way to put it. Overwhelming attraction and unshakeable fondness was another. While you knew that the three of you got along well enough (and more than once Johnny had referred to you all as friends), it loosened some tight, anxious muscle in your chest to know that they felt the connection too. It wasn’t just wishful thinking on your part; there was chemistry.

“What sort of chemistry?” you ask, adjusting yourself into a more comfortable position.

“There’s more than one?” Simon mutters. 

“I mean, there’s chemistry in a friendly way or a more romantic way—” 

“A sexual way,” Johnny suggests. You jolt and accidentally bang your knuckles against the porcelain of the tub. Hissing, you cradle them against your chest, mulling over his words.

Your mouth feels almost too dry to speak. 

“Right. Well—yes, I feel…that.” In the back of your brain, a tiny fire burns, fueled by disappointment. You try to smother its flames before it grows out of control and threatens to burn up your higher reasoning. Not every relationship needed to be centered around romance; this was the twenty-first century. You were perfectly within your rights—some would consider it smart, even—to have physical relationships without the complication of emotional aspects.

You’ll keep working on convincing yourself. In the meantime: “So you’re saying you want to have sex.” 

“I’m open to taking things slow and seeing where they lead,” says Johnny.

Dimly you remember something: some night spent curled up on the couch, your head lighter than air, listening to Johnny and Simon talk beside you. Something about their conversation reminded you of this moment, but the more you tried to remember, the more it slipped through your fingers like sand. 

“All of us?” you ask, noticing Simon’s pointed silence. 

There is shifting on the other side of the curtain. You see shadows moving through the thin plastic and fabric, like the two of them are trying to have a silent conversation with only hand gestures. It does nothing for your nerves. At length, Simon says: “Not me. Just you and Johnny.”

Your heart does a strange dip, like a bird changing course and soaring toward the ground. You feel strangely, stupidly hurt by this, though you couldn’t put into words why, and you wouldn’t want to even if he asked. It was within his rights to say no. Hadn’t you just learned that lesson?

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that?” you ask. Simon had never come off as a jealous sort of type (and you imagine that a jealous type wouldn’t last long with Johnny anyway, not with the way the other man liked to flirt), but everyone had a limit. You weren’t sure that if the situations were reversed you could be so affable. 

“Someone needs to keep a clear head,” he says. “I’ll be the designated driver.” 

Maybe he’s right. If you truly plan to sleep with Johnny, maybe it will be best to have someone in the apartment still as detached as possible. 

“Thanks, I guess,” you say, trying to force a little humor into your voice. “I think I proved last night that I don't make the best decisions under the influence.” 

“You did make the best decision,” he says solemnly. “You called me.” 

Johnny’s hand appears from around the edge of the shower curtain. Grinning, you stretch out to touch his fingers with your own and lace them together. It’s a little awkward, but most new things are. His hand is warm and gentle, and you could get used to it. 

“We’ll take it slow, yes?” 

“Alright.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Lunch?” 

“Definitely on the same page there.” 

“Get out of my tub then.”

-

“Hey. Stay back.” 

Feeling a little like a student asked to stay behind after class, you watch with envy as Johnny slips into the living room to call for takeout, leaving you alone with Simon. You don’t get to spend a lot of alone time with Simon, and that time is usually spent in companionable silence as he reads. Nerves bubble in your belly, wondering what else he could have to talk to you about that he wouldn’t want to say in front of his husband.

“What’s up?” you ask, aiming for nonchalant. 

“I’ve got a rule,” he says. “One for you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Don’t fall in love with Soap.” You blink up at him. Of all the things you could have imagined him saying, this hadn’t been on the list—though perhaps it should have been right there at the top. “I know how easy he is to love. But I also know that this is going to end at some point, one way or another. Let's not let it end up a mess. That’s my advice. As the driver.”

“Just friends,” you clarify around the knot in your throat. “Believe it or not, I was thinking the same thing. This is all just for fun, right?”

Simon stares at you hard, like he is trying to see through you to the door behind you. You hope your face is arranged into something neutrally appropriate but know that if it isn’t, it’s already too late. 

“Right,” he says at length.

-

The night ends softly, with something mindless and easy on television. Simon sits on the floor with his back against the base of the couch, head against Johnny’s knees. Johnny lays outstretched across the couch on his side, one hand reaching down to rub at his aching thigh now and again. All while you sit curled up in the armchair, watching the television half as often as you watch the two of them. 

They’re beautiful. There’s something about the way they contrast with each other, the darkness and the light, which you find aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes Johnny slips his fingers into Simon’s hair and scratches softly at his scalp, and you get to watch the relaxed, blissed-out expression creep over Simon’s face at the stimulation. 

The domesticity of it does something to you. Deep in your chest—in between your legs. It’s time for you to call it a night; there’s a toy in your room with your name on it (not literally). Joints creaking from disuse as you stand, both their heads swivel to look up at you, making your heart squeeze fondly. 

“I think I’m tapping out for the night,” you admit. 

Simon wishes you a goodnight. 

Johnny says: “Where’s my goodnight kiss?” 

You feel zapped, suddenly wide awake. “You…want one?” 

Johnny nods. He tries to sit up but can’t find the leverage, face twisting in pain. 

“No,” you tell him, “You stay there, I’ll come to you.” 

Walking around the coffee table, you come to kneel beside Simon at Johnny’s head. Your chest feels tight, blood thrumming with nerves. You can’t help but glance toward Simon who hasn’t changed positions except to angle his body towards you both a fraction more, his eyes dark and shadowed. 

“Alright, hen?” Johnny asks. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. 

He reaches out to cup your cheek, his palm warm, thumb stroking along the length of your cheekbone. Steeling your nerves, you lean down and press your mouth against his. His lips are soft, warm as you give him the simplest, chastest kiss. He keeps you there, searching for more, tilting your head with his hand until the angle serves him best, parting his lips until you can taste the lemon from the tea Simon had shared with you both earlier that night.

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and your thighs shake, weak in the knees from holding yourself up. You grip a fistful of the couch cushion beside his head and meet his tongue with your own, a soft little dance, familiar steps but a new partner. He exhales, the breath fanning across your cheek, and something about that makes the ache between your legs so much worse. 

You break away. Your fingers find his hair, soft dark strands that slip through your fingers like silk. You whisper: “Johnny.” 

“Just a little more, please,” Johnny begs, and you can’t say no when you want it so bad.

You meet him open mouthed, shifting on your knees to make yourself more comfortable—and you brush against Simon seated beside you. It has you pulling back, sucking in a breath. You can’t help but look at him with wide, guilty eyes, only to find him watching you with quiet, earnest intensity. His mouth curls at the edges into the ghost of a smile, though why he would be smiling, you couldn’t say. 

Meanwhile, Johnny sighs, brushing his thumb against your lower lip.

“Chemistry,” he says, mouth red and kiss-swollen. 

You silently agree. 

[aothotties]

Some more Farmer!Reiner for everyone

Warnings: MDNl, Cunnilingus (f. receiving), fingering, a lil fluff at the end.

◝꒰ ´ ˘ `♡ ꒱

Farmer!Reiner becomes your new best friend within the first few weeks of your stay.

Farmer!Reiner who learns that you're opening up a small bakery in town and would love to be business partners.

Farmer!Reiner brings you your order with a few extra cartons of eggs or gallons of milk just because he can.

Farmer!Reiner does these things out of the kindness of his big heart, and in hopes that you'll let him take you on a date.

Farmer!Reiner is shocked when it's you who asks him out before he even gets the chance to.

Farmer!Reiner promises to be on his best behavior for your date tonight so that he won't scare you off.

Farmer!Reiner is about to lose an internal battle with himself when he sees how divine you look.

You invite him over to a home-cooked meal and on the off chance the night takes a turn, it's better to be a few feet away from the bed.

Reiner knocks on the door with flowers in his hand and you take a nice long look at him. His blonde hair is washed and styled handsomely, large muscles are bulging under his shirt, Christ, and the way his thighs are screaming under those jeans.

Reiner is no better if not worse than you are. His eyes steadily trail down your curvy figure, if the word perfect had a picture in the dictionary, he's sure the hat they would use one of your pictures to capture the meaning. All he can do is fantasize about what you're hiding under that long skirt, the way your dark skin shimmers due to your body butter entices him.

Farmer!Reiner manages to act civilized while you two have dinner and dessert.

Farmer!Reiner falls in love with you by the second every time he eats more forkfuls of your delightful chocolate cake.

Farmer!Reiner doesn’t let you move a muscle after dinner and insists on doing y’all’s dishes himself.

Farmer!Reiner holds back a moan when you jump up onto the counter next to him and rub his shoulder, mumbling a sweet “thank you”

Farmer!Reiner gets distracted by you telling a story and sprays you both with the faucet.

Farmer!Reiner is standing between your legs while wrapped up in a large blanket since you don't have any clothes his size.

Farmer!Reiner can't help but draw small circles on your thighs while you tell him your entire life story.

Reiner can’t help himself from leaning in just a tad bit too close to attach your lips, but it’s okay because you wanted this just as bad if not more.

Your wraps wrap around the blanket covering his shoulders and he pulls you in as close as he can. You both sigh in contentment as the tension slowly leaves the room with each kiss.

The blanket falls to the floor as he pushes you down so your back is flat against the countertop. You barely have time to react to how quickly your panties are removed and his lips are wrapped around your clit.

“Reiner!” You exclaim, you grip his soft blond locks between your fingers as his tongue switches between your nub and dripping hole.

His poor cock twitches at the sound of his name falling from your lips, his pants growing tighter by the minute. He tests the waters but inserts a finger in your cunt.

You hum at the sensation of his thick finger massaging your walls while his skilled tongue lapped at your clit like a madman.

He adds another finger next to the first one and your back arches off the counter, the scene in front of you has you insanely close.

You make eye contact with Reiner as he gives your bulging clit all the attention she craves. He curves his fingers to rub against your g-spot and you let out a long moan.

“I-I’m coming! Fuck Reiner I’m coming.” You warn, your body twitching in pleasure as you release onto his tongue and fingers.

He drinks up every last drop and pulls away from you to give your poor pussy a break. He stands up fully and wipes his mouth with his thumb.

“Are you okay, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.” He helps you to your feet, grabs the fallen blanket, and covers your bare half.

“Reiner you’re fine, trust me I enjoyed myself. You’ve got nothing to worry about, are you okay?” You ask, nodding down to the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t worry about me, I want our first time to be special. Or at least not in your kitchen maybe?” He suggests and you let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea for next time.” He places a kiss on your forehead and takes you to the couch.

A movie plays in the background as you two doze off at some point in the night. His clothes are long forgotten in the dryer, but this will be a night to remember

[penkura]

where you belong [1/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Notes: Hi, it's me again! Another fanfic here for you all! When this goes up, I'll be on my last day of vacation before I fly home, so I hope that you'll enjoy this! I know Straw Hat Reader x Law is popular, and I wanted to write my own, but with the Reader being Luffy's biological older sister. So for this, Reader is three years older than Luffy, 20 at the start and 22 after the timeskip, making Law four years older. I personally like older men, and age gap fics are just delicious reading material for me (within reason, nothing illegal).

Note 2: This is NOT the Law with vitiligo series. That one is actively being planned but will be separate from this one.

“And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!!”

Luffy standing your tiny dingy boat worries you a little, but you still grin at him and nod.

“Hell yeah you will be!”

“Your turn! What’re you gonna do while we sail??”

Rolling your eyes, you make Luffy sit down while you stand up.

“Easy. I’m gonna chronicle your journey and write the greatest story ever told!”

Your younger brother watches you, tilting his head when you don’t continue. He believes there has to be more you want out of life, and tries to make you say what else is in your plans, what you have on your mind.

“And?”

Taking a breath, you nod. Of course he knew you had more, it’s Luffy, he’s been by your since he was just a few weeks old. Things you’ve said over time, to him and Ace, they’d both known for a long time what you’ve always wanted to find once you went out to sea.

“And find where it is I belong.”

+!+

Your arrival in Sabaody was a trip, in more than one way. You'd been excited to explore the place, hoping you could pawn your younger brother off on Camie, Pappag, and the others so you could have some time on your own to shop the stalls, maybe with Nami and Robin, turn it into a girl’s day. Of course, though, nothing could be so easy when your brother is the captain of the Straw Hats. You all find yourselves at the human auction hall, Nami willing to spend all the money possible to save Camie, but it makes you itchy while being there. You cringe to think about the things that happened in this place, how many people had been sold to Celestial Dragons. Your and Luffy's loss of Sabo due to the actions of one had severely soured your opinions on them.

You scan the crowd in the auction house, scratching at your arms which never seem to calm down while the rest of your crew discusses their plan to save Camie, and you end up locking eyes with another pirate captain there, unknown to you at that moment but somehow familiar.

A furry white, spotted hat, dark hair you can barely see, oddly enough you think his facial hair is attractive, and those yellow eyes that you almost would believe see right through you.

Trafalgar Law simply stares at you, realizing you’re a Straw Hat when he recognizes the rest of your crewmates. After a moment of fidgeting slightly you give him a nervous smile and a wave, which he returns with a nod before turning back to the auction stage as they continue to call bids on people.

Weird girl.

Strange guy.

Although she’s busy watching for Camie to be brought out, Nami still leans into you when you pull on her sleeve and start to whisper. “You see that guy in the white spotted hat?”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates. He’s more attractive than his poster makes him.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami pulls her arm away from you. “I don’t have time for you to be horny about some guy.”

“Wha—Nami!! I’m not! I’m just saying.”

She doesn’t listen to you anymore, focusing back on waiting for Camie and sending you to watch for Luffy, just so you don’t get distracted by the attractive enemy captain and defect to another crew.

You swear you never will, but do as you’re told to watch for your brother. Maybe one day you’ll get to properly meet Law, you’re quite curious about the young man.

+!+

“Another one?! Are you kidding me, Dragon?!”

You’re three years old when you wake up to your grandfather yelling at someone in the middle of the night. Normally Garp is sure to keep things quiet so you, his sweet little princess angel granddaughter, can sleep peacefully. He’d leave early in the morning once your nanny showed up for the day, returning before dinner so he had the evenings with you before you had to be off to bed, to do the day over again the next morning. It’s rare for you to stay up late or wake up early, but the few mornings you’ve woken up before he left were some of Garp’s favorites.

You quietly slip out of your bed, blanket in your hand as you rub your eyes and go to the door, opening it just enough to see what’s happening. Garp is there with someone in a green cloak, you can’t see the other person’s face, but listen anyway.

“He’s the last one, there won’t be anymore.”

“You said [Y/N] was going to be the only one!”

“Things happened.”

“Obviously something happened, babies don’t appear out of thin air!’

You tilt your head, the man in the cloak catching your eye, which makes you shy away behind your doorway, glancing away before back to him as he looks to Garp again.

“Take care of them.” He goes to leave and is gone before Garp can even stop him.

“Dragon, wait--! That…damn idiot.”

“Grandpa?”

Garp is surprised to hear your voice, turning around once he closes the door, giving you a smile while you start to focus on the bundle he's holding.

“Hey there, princess, what are you doing up?”

“I heard yelling…”

Nodding, Garp apologizes as he picks you up, letting you settle on his free arm. “Sorry about that, angel. Just… an unexpected visitor.”

“Oh…”

Garp sees you staring more at the bundle of blankets in his arm than at him, and he sighs a bit, taking you to the living room and setting you on the couch, before showing you how to position your arms as he sets the now squirming bundle in your arms.

“[Y/N], this is your baby brother. His name is Luffy.”

How unexpected! You’ve never thought about having a sibling, just enjoying your childhood and life with your grandpa, but seeing this tiny little boy in your just as small arms makes you grin while you look at him. Dark black hair and just as dark eyes, scrunched up little face and tiny hands in fists while he starts to fuss and whine.

“Luffy…”

+!+

Luffy…

You hope your prayers aren’t going unheard, that Luffy will return to you safely. Ace’s death has long passed, but you’re more worried about your little brother than anything else right now. You’d both been sent off to Amazon Lily by Kuma, but after they’d all agreed to let you both stay, and Boa Hancock seems to have fallen in love with him, Luffy left you there to go rescue Ace, that was nearly three weeks ago now, you think. You want him back, both of them, but want to see Luffy more than anyone else.

“Luffy’s returned, [Y/N]-san!”

“He has?!”

Marguerite nods and you quickly get up from your seat and run after her to wherever Luffy is. The newspapers kept implying he was dead, you were terrified you’d lost him and Ace that day, no updates from anyone apart from the papers cheering for the Navy’s alleged victory, for the deaths of Ace and Whitebeard. The Amazons, all so kind to let you stay while Luffy went to try and rescue Ace, were unsure of how to help you the last two weeks once Ace’s vivre card burned to nothing in your hands and made you nearly inconsolable.

Despite that, your prayers hadn’t gone unheard.

Once you’re at the beach that Luffy should be at, you notice immediately the big yellow submarine with the word DEATH on it and it freaks you out more than anything. You don’t know who owns it, but when you catch sight of someone you’ve only seen in person once, you worry that he’s done something to Luffy. You don’t say a word, but someone in a jumpsuit (boiler suit you think?) calls out “captain” just in time for him to turn towards you as you shove the older boy to the ground, placing yourself on top of him and your knife to his neck.

Part of you wishes it was poisoned right now, just in case this Trafalgar Law has done something to your brother.

“Where’s Luffy?!”

The knife you have at his neck doesn’t phase Law even a tiny bit, it’s the fact that someone so much shorter and smaller than him was able to catch him off guard and shove him to the ground the way you did. You’re angry for some reason, giving him a nasty glare but look like you’re about to cry on top of it, as he just stares at you, his crewmembers shouting for you to get off their captain before he raises a hand to stop them.

“Who—”

“Tell me, where is my brother?!”

Oh so that’s what’s wrong, that’s who you are. Whether you’re related to Luffy by blood or by ritual cup like Ace was, Law doesn’t know, but he’s sure you want reassurance you haven’t lost two brothers in one day.

“Are you [Y/N]?”

You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Jinbei, still glaring. “Who’s asking?!”

“I was friends with your brother Ace, he told me about you and Luffy while we were in Impel Down.”

“He…did?”

You’ve calmed down so quickly hearing Ace’s name, retracting your knife just slightly, while Jinbei explains things to you. You don’t move off of Law though, listening quietly, fighting the desire to cry more. You’ve done enough of that, you don’t want to anymore today.

Law doesn’t even try to move you off, knowing, like Luffy, you’re emotionally hurting right now. He doesn’t want to risk you slicing his neck either, even as Jinbei finishes telling you everything Ace did, and you still don’t move or look at Law.

“Ace hopes you find what you’re looking for.”

You clench your jaw a bit at first, before smiling sadly and nodding, thanking Jinbei for the information before Law speaks up.

“If you get off me, I can take you to Straw Hat-ya.” 

You blink, finally looking back to Law, and you feel your face burn with a blush when you realize your position and scramble to get off him, apologizing the whole way while he shakes his head. Once he’s on his feet, Law let’s you onto the Polar Tang and leads you down the hallway to the infirmary, updating you on Luffy’s condition the best he can with the knowledge he has.

“If he pulls through this, the most you’ll have to worry about is his mental health.”

“Mm.” You nod, grabbing Law’s arm as he stops to open a door, making him look back at you. “I apologize for shoving you down.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Law shrugs, you could tell just from looking at him, though he does smirk a bit at you, “Never had a girl push me down and hold a poisoned knife to my neck before though.”

“It wasn’t poisoned,” you almost shout, but keep your voice down to not wake Luffy, “…this time…”

He almost laughs, but when you see Luffy finally, you’re instantly but his side, taking his hand and trying to keep yourself from crying seeing him in such a state. He’d been injured badly before, but never like this, never this close to death.

“Luffy…oh Luffy, I’m here, Lu,” you brush his bangs away from his face before kissing his forehead, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I should’ve come with you…”

Law doesn’t bother you for the next several minutes, stepping out so you have some privacy while you make sure Luffy is all right, your quiet prayers that he wakes soon and heals quickly don’t go unheard by the surgeon of death, who thinks back to his own sister and the prayers he’d once prayed for her health as a child.

As an older sibling, he gets it. While he still doesn’t know yet if you’re related by blood or sworn siblings, he does see how much you care for Luffy, and for your sake he hopes your captain wakes sooner rather than later.

+!+

You spend the next two weeks in and out of the Polar Tang, checking on Luffy and praying over him to wake soon, Law being the one to take you in and lead you back out most of the time, even though you’ve memorized the path already. The next time you leave Luffy to continue recovering, the friends you and Luffy have made from Amazon Lily have shown up in the time you’ve been with him, bringing food and drinks for you all. As you walk over to where he’s seated, Law offers you a drink that you reject with a shake of your head, sitting on the other side of the tree and bringing your knees up to your chest, hiding your face in them.

“Any signs he’s waking up?”

Shaking your head, you sigh and lean back, looking at the people around to distract yourself from worrying over Luffy.

“That your crew?”

“Yep. All twenty of them.”

You smile a bit, watching the Heart Pirates goof off while some have their meal and share drinks. It almost reminds you of the Straw Hats and makes your heart ache from missing them deeply.

“You have a nice group there.”

“They can be a handful.”

It makes you laugh a bit, nodding before you decide to stop wallowing and get back up, standing beside Law where he stays seated.

“Think you should hold this for now.”

Law tosses Luffy’s straw hat to you, and you grit your teeth a bit while you stare at it. You had wondered where it was, seeing it wasn’t around when you were with Luffy. You hold nothing but the highest regards for Shanks, he'd been an inspiration for you and Luffy when you were children, he helped end the war and helped Law save Luffy, but how you wish he’d shown up sooner. Maybe he could’ve helped Ace too.

“Thank you, for holding this.”

“Seems important to him, he’s not Straw Hat-ya without it.”

Smiling a bit, you nod. “He’s certainly not.”

“How do you—”

“I’m his big sister. I was three when our dad dropped him off with me and grandpa. We’ve been together almost every day since.”

“I see.”

You’re not entirely sure you trust Law, despite his saving Luffy, but you’re willing to give him a shot. At least let him know a bit about your history with Ace too, since he'd been there when you hadn’t been. Where Luffy asked you not to go.

“We met Ace and another boy when I was ten, and become sworn siblings with them soon after. The other boy died a few months later,” you grip the straw hat a bit tighter, but loosen your hold after being stabbed in the hand by sharp bits of straw, “a Celestial Dragon did it, we’ve not been fans of them since, so Luffy punching that one in Sabaody felt like some payback.”

“That makes sense.”

After a few minutes of silence, you finally realize something and turn to Law, sticking your hand out for him.

“Never introduced myself. Monkey D. [Y/N]. I don’t really use my last name though.”

Law takes your hand after a moment, nodding. “Trafalgar Law.”

“Thank you for saving my baby brother.”

“Don’t thank me until he wakes up.”

As if almost on cue, the door comes flying off the Polar Tang and you both whip your heads over, Law running ahead of you as you follow, and Luffy’s the next thing to almost fly out of the ship.

“Luffy!!”

You’re about to run to him before Law grabs hold of your arm, pulling you to himself and holding you still, even while you thrash around and listen to Luffy call for Ace. It breaks your heart to see him so upset, and you just want to console him, have him do the same for you, while you both continue to grieve for Ace. But Law won’t let you go to him, fear or concern your brother might hurt you while he fights through pain and raging emotions, before he disappears into the forest.

“Luffy, come back!!”

You barely register Jinbei asking what’ll happen if Luffy continues to flail and run off like that, before Law speaks and your heart almost drops to your stomach at the thought.

“If he continues to move around like that he could reopen his wound and bleed out. He’ll die.”

Quickly you turn around and Law isn’t at all shocked to see the tears welling up in your eyes as you grip his shirt, still holding Luffy’s straw hat.

“Don’t let that happen!! Please!! He’s all I have! Luffy is my whole world, I can’t lose him!!”

Unsure of what to do, especially once you lay your head on his chest while you cry, Law hesitantly wraps his arms around you and watches Jinbei go off to Luffy. Maybe he’ll be able to calm your brother down before he really hurts or kills himself.

You’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks, losing Luffy would break you more than losing Ace did to him.

+!+

“I’m sorry I got snot on your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash.”

You glance away and keep your eyes averted while Law changes shirts, having taken you onto the Polar Tang while Jinbei attempts to calm Luffy down. He didn’t fully mean to bring you into his room, but he never let go of your wrist while he led through the ship, making you sit down to hopefully calm you down. You do catch sight of his tattoos, wanting to say something but you don’t want to sound like a creep or a pervert at the same time.

“Why don’t you use your last name?”

Law surprises you once he’s changed shirts, this one almost the same as the yellow one he’d been wearing, but now a dark blue with a furry, feathery collar that you really want to pet, it looks soft. But again, you don’t want to seem like a creep.

For a moment you’re quiet, before you cross your arms and lean against the wall, shrugging.

“Why should I use the name of someone who abandoned me? I only have one memory of my father, and it was when he dropped off Luffy.”

“Your grandfather is Garp, isn’t he?”

“I love my grandpa like he’s my dad…but I don’t want to use my last name.”

Law nods a bit, seeming to understand. You felt abandoned, and wanted nothing to do with your biological father, instead viewing Garp in that light, which makes sense.

He'd viewed Corazon in the same light at one point.

“Your mother?”

“I know nothing about her. It’s like…” You start to bury your head in your knees again, almost digging your nails into your arms, “Like I don’t know who I am half the time…”

He gets that too, the same feelings after Flevance, after losing Corazon and leaving the Don Quixote family, leaving Doflamingo behind. Many times of looking in the mirror and asking “who the hell am I”.

Law is about to respond, before one of his crewmembers yells for you both that Luffy and Jinbei have returned to the beach, and you’re out the door so fast he isn’t able to believe it. He follows you out, not all surprised to see you and Luffy hugging each other tightly once he exits his ship.

Your bond with Luffy would be on full display the next few days, Law truthfully does wonder if he and Lammy would’ve been the same.

+!+

“I met some people who are friends with our dad.”

“You what?”

Luffy nods, giving you this information during dinner one evening, while you stare at him with such a blank look that Law thinks you’ve completely shut down. You didn’t say too much about your dad while you relayed some of your childhood to him earlier that day, apart from your perceived abandonment, but the look you have isn’t a very happy one.

“They’re were some cool people! They helped me escape that prison and…tried to help me save Ace.”

“So they were revolutionaries.”

“Yeah, they…they said they didn’t even know we existed.” Luffy scrunches up his face a bit while you frown, then pat his head.

“I’m not surprised, Lu.”

Luffy makes a face now, one that’s almost disgusted but annoyed but upset maybe. Law swears he isn’t trying to eavesdrop, you two are sitting too close to him anyway, you’re practically pressed up against his side. You both appear to have problems with your father, after the little bit you’ve told him and how you confessed to feeling abandoned by your parents. He wonders briefly is Luffy feels the same, even as your younger brother leans against you, pushing you fully into Law’s arm and making you glance up at him apologetically. He doesn’t move, once again doesn’t push you off, instead shifting his arm enough for you to be comfortable.

When Luffy falls asleep, you finally speak again.

“Luffy met our dad once, in Loguetown”

“Oh yeah?”

“Neither of us knew until grandpa told us…he didn’t even stop to say anything to me…”

“…I’m sorry.”

You shrug, watching Luffy. It still stung to know that, to know that Dragon didn’t even seek you out when he must’ve known you were on Luffy’s crew, that you’d never leave him to do this alone. When Garp told you he’d been in Loguetown that day, it felt like a knife in your heart that you didn’t even get to see or speak to your father.

Law, while he watches you start to drift off to sleep yourself, thinks about his own dad and Corazon at the same time. He had two fathers in the end, who both cared about and loved him deeply, both wanting to protect him as long as they could. He had his mother and Lammy too, you had Luffy and Garp, but it wasn’t enough for you, and it makes sense. To not have that connection with the people who gave you life, Law can’t even imagine how difficult that must be.

He ignores the slight snickers and comments from his crew when they see you leaned against him, even has he slightly tilts his head towards yours, not going all the way to lay his against your own. Even when Shachi makes a small comment about ‘love’ being in the air at Amazon Lily, Law doesn’t open his eyes to respond or even Shambles his friend away.

You won’t see each other again for a long time after this, most likely, so he’s willing to give you some comfort and allow his crew to see him a little softer than normal.

+!+

“Bye, thanks for your help, Traffy!”

Law tries not to grimace at the nickname Luffy’s given him over the last few days, nodding to you both as his crew also shouts goodbyes and wave to you both, you personally sad to see them leave. You’d spent so much time getting to know them while taking care of Luffy, that it felt like you were losing friends again. You’d probably see them one day, maybe as friends but maybe as foes, yet, you’d like to see more of Law and learn about him like he had you.

Luffy notices your face, the sad look it has, then looks back to the Heart Pirates as they start to disappear below deck. You’ve already chosen to stay on Amazon Lily the next two years and learn from the women there how to fight, but even watching you the last couple days, he could see your heart wasn’t in it. You more so loved using your knives and making poisons, he remembers the one he and Ace mistakenly drank thinking it was lavender tea from Makino. You weren’t an archer or a swordswoman, you much prefer close combat and paralyzing your enemies. Your work during Enies Lobby earned you your $25 million berri bounty, the Navy having trouble recreating antidotes from the one you’d left with a knocked out marine, they knew you’d be trouble one day.

With all that in mind, Luffy sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you in what you first believe to be a hug, before he lifts you up and you look at him. He’s got a grin that concerns you greatly as the color drains from your face.

“Luffy.”

He giggles a bit, nodding at you to brace yourself.

“Luffy, don’t you dare.”

“Have fun with Traffy for two years!!!”

He doesn’t give you anymore room to argue, flinging you towards the Polar Tang, making you yell for Law to pay attention, and he barely does in time to catch you, knocking both of you to the ground, several Heart Pirates making sure both of you are all right and that Law didn’t hit his head on anything.

You’re up and holding onto the railing, yelling at Luffy, “You’re an idiot!!!”

He pretends he can’t hear you, waving widely and shouting another goodbye, but to you this time.

Once Law is sitting up, realizing what the hell has happened, he sighs a bit while you look back to him.

“I’m sorry, Trafalgar. You can turn back and I’ll beat some sense into him!”

One of his crewmembers, you’re pretty sure it’s Shachi, leans down to ask him, “Should we? Kinda seems like Straw Hat wants us to take her along.”

He sighs, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“You can stay.”

“…huh?”

You tilt your head in confusion, Law doesn’t think it’s cute at all no matter what that weird feeling in his chest is, while he stands up and nods at you.

“The Amazons might get angry if we return without permission, so we’ll just…take you along…and then bring you to Sabaody.”

Blinking several times, you’re still confused while some of his crew laugh, Penguin coming up to pat you on the back.

“You’re a temporary Heart Pirate! We’ll take care of you!”

Nodding, Law turns to go below deck.

“Say your goodbye, we’ll be going under shortly.”

While the rest of them follow after their captain, you turn back and see Luffy still waving at you, which makes you sigh and shake your head. You do smile though, you had wanted to continue getting to know Law and his crew, this was a perfect opportunity, and maybe he could help you with creating effective antidotes for your poisons.

“Luffy! Love you, see you in two years!”

“Okay!!!!”

Once you go below deck, Penguin being the one to wait for you in order to close the door properly, he starts to show you around a bit, the rest of the crew happy to see you’re staying with them for now, while Law keeps a slight distance unless he’s asked about something. You looking around and being so impressed by the submarine caused another weird feeling in his chest, and he fights to ignore it, especially when you thank him for letting you stay with a smile, which he waves off with an “It’s nothing”.

It's going to be an interesting two years.

[leaentries]

let them eat cake | nico hischier

SUMMARY: when mrs.cap learns that cake can serve more than one purpose

WARNINGS: food play, slight boob worship, slight nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, swearing, not proofread

WC: 2.97k

A/N: guess who’s back from the dead ! i hope you will take this nico fic as a form of apology for my lack of content recently !

the captain’s girl masterlist!

The familiar blaring of an alarm broke through the warm, golden atmosphere of the bedroom. Sunlight bounced amongst the beige walls, as the air slightly blew against them. Realizing Nico must have left the balcony door open, you managed to peel an eye open to gaze at the sleeping man beside you. 

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths, signaling he was still locked in his restful slumber. You took a moment to admire the youthful lines of his shaven face, taking note of every mark he had. The straight swoop of his nose, or the curve of his eyebrows; you swore to commit them to memory. Your eyes trailed down to his neck, where his chain dangled loosely to the side. A sweet smile found home on your lips as you watched his nose scrunch slightly in his sleep. 

However, your morning bliss was interrupted by Nico’s phone, which, once again, began to scream with that god-forsaken alarm. 

Very carefully, you lifted your body onto your left arm, maneuvering yourself to grab his phone and hit the “stop” button. As it would be, you didn’t quite make it that far before collapsing halfway onto the sleeping boy.

Nico’s body jolted at the sudden weight, hands immediately going to hold your hip and the arm that now lay limp across his chest. 

“Jesus, schatzi,” His voice rumbled with sleep, “What are you doing?” 

You sheepishly grinned at him, “‘M sorry, Neeks. I was trying to turn off your alarm so it wouldn’t make you cranky this morning.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Cranky? I’m never cranky in the mornings. I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, baby.” 

“Ah, so you're not the guy who almost chucks his phone at the wall every morning because his alarm is so obnoxiously loud?” 

Nico gave you a deadpan look. 

You shrugged at him, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah” He quickly flipped you over, his heavy body now pressing into yours, “I’d be careful with what you say.” 

His lips placed slow, hot kisses down your jaw, only stopping once he met your earlobe. He bit lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. 

Nico’s voice came out in a rough whisper, “After all, I’m very cranky in the mornings.” 

Nico removed himself from you, taking away the warmth of his thick muscle. Making his way to the bathroom, he gave you a quick wink and a smug smile. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to control the ache that now resided in your core. 

“You suck, Hischier!” 

Well, happy birthday to you.

  -

While Nico took his time in the shower getting ready for the day, you took it upon yourself to start making a big breakfast for the two of you. 

Although it was your birthday, you still wanted to do something sweet for the both of you to enjoy. You had been looking forward to sharing an intimate meal with him first thing in the morning. Yet, if you were being honest, you never cared to make a fuss over your birthday. 

It just never occurred to you to care so much. 

As you scraped the last bits of your breakfast out of the pan, you heard Nico’s heavy steps approaching the kitchen. 

“Mmmm,” He sniffed the air with a dog-like fervor, “Something smells good.” 

You nodded towards the two plates, that now sat full, on the island top. “I made us a big breakfast this morning. I thought it would be nice to spend some time together today. Especially since you’ve been busy with all the away games the past few weeks.” 

Nico walked up behind you, hands circling your full waist with a squeeze. 

“That sounds perfect, schatzi.” 

Grabbing your hand, Nico helped you make your way into the high-top seat, carefully pushing you in before finding his way next to you. He gave you a quick peck, reaching to pull your legs to drape across his lap. 

Your stomach argued with hunger, prompting you to finally satisfy your morning needs. You closed your eyes in bliss at the warm taste of your favorite breakfast. Ever since you were a child, you had this same meal every year. Yet, it never failed to bring back the same excitement and nostalgia as it did when you were little.

“Fuck,” Nico mumbled under his breath, “Don’t make that face, baby. It’s too early for me to be hard.” 

You fluttered your eyes innocently, “I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

However, you most certainly did. And the evidence was currently pressing into your calf. 

A low groan escaped his mouth as you dragged your legs slowly from his lap. Grabbing the empty plates, you made a show of your hips in the short walk to the sink. Carefully placing them in the metal confinement, rough hands came to pull you back. 

“Oh!” A squeal echoed into the kitchen as Nico walked your body back to the counter. His large fingers gripped your wrists, pinning them to the cabinet above you. Nico’s face dangled teasingly too far for your aching lips. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, schatzi.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, “Swaying that pretty ass in my face.”

Nico shook his head in disapproval, “‘S not fair to me, baby.” His deep eyes only seemed to grow bigger, “Why are you being mean to me?”

You furrowed your brows in a pout, “‘M not being mean.”

“Oh yeah, you are.” He moved one of your hands back down to cup his heavy length straining against the fabric of his sweats. “Think just because you’re the birthday girl, you get to be a brat? Is that it?”

You huffed in annoyance. You should have known Nico wouldn’t give in to you so easily, even if it was your special day. Deciding to continue your ploy, you gave him your best puppy eyes, “No, Neeks.” You bit your lip, “I just want my favorite birthday present.”

Nico didn’t miss the way your eyes scanned his body, your orbs lingering on his throbbing erection. He could feel his resolve faltering at your sultry gaze, his body naturally leaning in to press against yours.

Although, just as Nico’s lips were about to finally slot on your awaiting ones, his phone blared loudly for the umpteenth time that morning. Nico’s forehead dropped to your shoulder in defeat.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He mumbled, “Gotta go to morning skate.”

Even though you knew he had to leave, you couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected. You nodded understandably, acknowledging his predicament.

Nico picked his head up, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you when I get back, birthday girl.”

-

As soon as Nico had left and the remnants from breakfast had been cleaned up, you easily found yourself falling into a peaceful nap on the couch. Yet, as quickly as your eyes shut, they opened again at the feeling of warm lips trailing your shoulder. 

“Wake up, schatzi,” Nico’s warm voice soothed your sleepy mind, “I brought you something.” 

Intrigued, you lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

‘Wha’dya bring?”

Nico’s mouth quirked up, “Come with me to the kitchen and find out.” 

Giving in to the curiosity, you rose from the couch and followed your boyfriend into the homey room. You felt your breath stop for a moment at the lopsided cake that now sat center on your island. It wasn’t the prettiest or the most shapely, but you didn’t care. With the icing slightly running down the sides and the half-cut strawberries, it was perfect. 

“You made me a cake?” 

Nico shuffled bashfully, “Yeah, I tried to, at least. I-I know it’s not the best, but-” You cut him off before he could finish. 

“It’s perfect, Neeks.” You looked at him with sparkling eyes, “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl.” 

You turned back to admire the pink cake once more. Nico’s warm body came to lean against your back, his arms wrapping around to cage you in. You watched as his right hand moved to swipe some of the fluffy icing from the side onto his finger. 

“Open up, baby.” 

You obliged gratefully, taking in his sugar-covered digit. You swirled your tongue to gather as much of the sweetness as possible, sucking lightly. 

“Fuck..” Nico’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. 

You could feel his hardening length pressed snuggly against your cheeks, taking the opportunity to tease him a bit. Jutting your hips backward, Nico groaned at the pressure. He pulled his finger from your mouth, a trail of saliva still attached. His hand moved to grasp onto your heavy breast through the material of your t-shirt.

Nico’s fingers danced across your peaked nipple, before quickly turning your body in place. He swiped another bit of the icing, letting your mouth eagerly accept his offer. His eyes grew with dark lust at the sight. Nico’s cock twitched with desire at the feeling of your tongue. 

He removed his finger suddenly, drawing a whine from your lips. However, you were quickly cut off by Nico grabbing your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. The cool sensation of the marble ignites goosebumps all over your skin. His mouth immediately found your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down the supple skin. His hands toyed with the hem of your t-shirt, before managing to discard it completely. 

“Look at these, baby” His eyes were glued to your breasts, “Been thinking about my girls all day. Always sit so pretty for me.” 

His fingers were cold as they grazed over your bare nipples. Nico didn’t waste any time as he lowered his mouth to take one into his mouth. You bit your lip to suppress a squeal. His teeth bit the pebbled bud lightly, sending shocks of pleasure to your core. You leaned your head back as a whine echoed into the kitchen. 

“Mmm, fuck,” You panted with arousal, “Missed this so much.” 

Nico raised a brow, “Yeah?” He mumbled as he took in the other nipple, “Missed me sucking on these gorgeous tits?” 

His accent grew thicker as the pure need for you flooded his senses. Your body felt like it was on fire with each lick and suck Nico gave to your swollen breasts. You could have sworn you’d cum from just that alone. 

Nico pulled up, his own chest heaving with desire while he ripped off his shirt. As if a lightbulb went off in his mind, his lips grew into a wicked grin. He gripped the backs of your legs, yanking you forward on the counter. You sucked in a breath, undeniably hot and bothered by his manhandling. Nico kept his hand on your leg, while he reached to pull the platter of cake closer to the both of you. 

You watched him quizzically as he, once again, dipped his first two fingers into the icing. Nico looked back at you, smirking at your questioning face. He answered with a sly wink, before smearing the icing down the length of your chest and abdomen.

“Nico!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “What the hell?” 

“It’s okay, schatzi. I’ll clean you up.” He gave you another smirk, before bending down to trail his tongue along the stripe of frosting. “Always taste so sweet.”

 He took his time, making sure not a single bit of the sticky substance was left. The air ran cool against your skin as Nico’s tongue traveled further down your body. You found yourself panting with arousal. He pushed your shoulder slightly as he signaled you to lay back. 

You gasped, back arching against the cold countertop. He took the time while you adjusted to the temperature to rub some more icing along the insides of your thighs. Your legs parted subconsciously, letting Nico slot his body in between them. 

A whimper escaped into the air as you felt his warm muscle flex against the plush fat of your thigh. He ran his tounge teasingly closer to your throbbing core, but only to trail it back down. Your chest heaved with anticipation, the tension overbearing, and raising a sheen layer of sweat over your skin as he continued his mistrations around where you needed him most. 

Determined to have you begging, Nico pulled away completely. Watching your flushed breasts rise and fall at the pace of your rapid breathing. He had to suppress a groan at the sight of your perked nipples still covered in his spit. His eyes met yours as you looked at him desperately. 

“Nico,” You whined, “Why’d you stop?” 

He smirked at you, “I want you to beg for it, schatzi.” 

A fire lit inside of your stomach at the authority in his tone, yet you couldn’t help the bubble of stubbornness that arose with it. 

“Why should I?” You inquired, propping yourself up onto your elbows, “I mean, it is my birthday. Don’t I deserve a present?” 

Nico almost smiled at your rebuttal, but he also needed to make sure you knew who was in charge. He leaned forward, his rigid abdomen pressing into your soft one. His mouth latched onto your nipples one more, this time sucking harshly. 

You cried out through the mixture of pain and pleasure, your slick practically dripping onto the counter by now. Your hands moved to grip his shoulder roughly, your nails leaving angry red marks in response. Nico only pulled away once he heard your needy cries and felt the way your hips bucked up into him. 

“Ready to stop being a brat?” 

Normally, you’d put up more of a fight, but with Nico’s relentless teasing all day, the thrumming need that pounded through every vein in your body had you complying with his wants. 

“Yes,” You breathed, “Please, Neeks.” Your body began to squirm as he dragged his clothed cock along the wetness pooling from your cunt, “Fuck, please do something.” 

His head tilted at you, hips still moving torturously slow, “But I am doing something, baby.” 

Your head fell haphazardly against the cool marble, an exasperated sigh leaving your throat. It was agonizing what he was doing to you, and he knew it. 

All you heard was a low chuckle before you felt Nico’s body lower and the sound of his knees thumping down against the hardwoods. Your eyes fluttered closed as Nico’s lips began to leave light kisses closer and closer to your clit. 

Nico’s right arm moved across your leg to gather some more icing before prodding at your closed mouth. Right as you opened to accept his fingers, Nico plunged his tongue deep into your soaked hole. 

Your body convulsed at the sensory overload. You felt your eyes roll back as the sweet strawberry cascaded over your taste buds and the surging pleasure Nico provided pulsed through your core. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, determined not to leave a single bit of the treat left.

Nico’s fingers fell from your mouth as you moaned almost pornographically at the intense sensation of him lapping at your velvet walls. His nose nudged against your clit with every pass he made, causing the onset of your orgasm to show its head. Your hands tangled themselves into his thick hair, tugging in an attempt to ground yourself further onto his face. 

Nico moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves up every limb. Your body felt as if it was floating, tingling with the utmost euphoric sensations. That familiar burning only increased as Nico replaced his tongue with two fingers. He plunged them brutally, not bothering to start slow. 

“Fuck!” You cried as your back arched off the counter. 

Nico’s mouth sucked skillfully on your clit, drawing fast circles. You could feel your climax approaching impossibly fast, your cunt beginning to spasm around your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“Close already, schatzi?” He mumbled against you.

You nodded helplessly, overwhelmed by the searing pleasure in your lower stomach. You could feel the blood pounding in your ears as you were hit with one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had. Your hips bucked against Nico as he continued his abuse through the duration of your high. 

Your mind felt like it was spinning, the weight of your climax taking the breath from your lungs. Your vision went white as your eyes clenched shut. Nico’s finger slowed to a stop, his mouth now leaving gentle kisses to the side of your knee where he rested his head. Your jaw fell slightly, lungs burning from the lack of air. 

All you could feel was Nico carefully removing his fingers, and the weight of his body moving to now stand. His warm hands caressed your hips soothingly, coaxing you back to reality. 

“Come back to me, pretty girl.” 

You eventually managed to peel open your lids, eyes clouded with dreariness. 

“There’s those pretty eyes,” Nico smiled lovingly at your fucked out state, “Let’s go take a quick shower. You’re all sticky from the icing.”

A laugh bubbled up, “Yeah?” You started at him accusingly, “And whose fault is that?” 

Nico just rolled his eyes at your attitude, helping you off the counter and into the bathroom. 

Once you were situated under the scolding water, Nico slid in behind you, arms wrapping around to pull you into his front. 

“Today is my favorite day of the year,” Nico stated.

You lifted your head from his chest, looking at him questioningly, “Why?” 

“Because it’s the day you were born.” 

You felt your cheeks go red, a bashful smile turning up on your lips. You shoved your face back into his toned chest, hiding away from his gaze. 

“Neeks,” You whined with embarrassment. 

Nico just laughed, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Happy birthday, schatzi.” 

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[unabashegirl]

my best friend's dad | part 1

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, i hope you are all having a lovely night. As promised, here is a two-part one shot. I tried to make it one part, but as I wrote I realized I needed to give more context and build up the tension between Harry and Y/N.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the second part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: talk about smut

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From the very first day, Y/N had doubts about the career she had chosen to study in college. To be truthful, she had picked journalism because she admired how polished the reporters looked on the news. Her uncertainty vanished the moment she met Scarlett Styles at the end of her freshman year. Meeting Scarlett made it all worthwhile. They met in one of those classes that was just a filler for the syllabus, where no one ever attended and the professor didn’t seem to care, giving everyone the same grade.

Since freshman year, they had been inseparable. Y/N admired Scarlett in many ways. She loved how Scarlett stood up for what she believed was right, fighting with grace and facts. Scarlett influenced Y/N and helped her gain the confidence she lacked. She was much different from her freshman self.

"Alright, what do you think?" Y/N asked as she finished tying the side strings of her bikini bottoms. "Be honest." Y/N had Facetimed Scarlett for the approval of her outfits for their upcoming trip.

"Love it. That's definitely your color. How many are you taking?" Scarlett was in England, having flown back home to see her grandma and meet her youngest cousin before flying to the Caribbean to meet Y/N.

"Ten?" Y/N asked as she wrapped her bathrobe around herself and slipped off the red bikini she had just tried on. "Is that too much?"

"I think that's too little," Scarlett giggled. "I think that's all we’re going to wear for those two weeks."

"Crap," Y/N said, pursing her lips as she looked for more options. "The rest of my bikinis are too skimpy. I might have to buy more."

"Just take those," Scarlett rolled her eyes, looking at her best friend through her phone. "Stop spending money. Your mom is going to have a heart attack when she sees the credit card bill."

"I can't! They're too tiny! Your dad is going to be there," Y/N complained as she held up one of the smallest bikinis. "I want to make a good impression. He’s going to think I’m a whore."

"Please! My dad is probably going to be locked up in the house, designing and drawing. We’re barely going to see him."

"Fine, but you have to stick up for me when he kicks me out of the rental for nudity," Y/N said, laughing along with Scarlett, who knew her father was likely too busy to pay attention to their outfits, even on vacation.

Y/N continued her packing, occasionally glancing at the screen to see Scarlett’s reactions. After sorting through a few more outfits, she plopped down on her bed with a sigh.

"I'm so excited," Y/N said, smiling at Scarlett. "A much-needed break."

"From all the partying," Scarlett laughed. "I'm actually looking forward to some quiet time away from all the nonsense."

"Have you talked to him? Has he texted you?" Y/N asked, referring to Scarlett's boyfriend, Henry. They had a fallout two days before the break when Scarlett told him he couldn’t go to the Bahamas with them.

"He's still giving me the cold shoulder," Scarlett shrugged, trying to act like she wasn't hurt, but Y/N could read her too easily. She could tell Scarlett was hurt and disappointed. "I’m just not ready for him to meet my dad. Why is it so hard for him to understand? He means everything to me. I don't bring every guy I date to meet my dad. It's disrespectful."

Henry and Scarlett had started going out four months ago after meeting at a dorm party.

"His reaction is very childish if you ask me," Y/N said. She could tell that they weren't going to last. Scarlett hated being restrained or forced to do something she didn’t agree with. "He’s your dad. You choose when is the right time to meet him."

"I feel like he's just using the excuse of meeting my dad to tag along on the trip," Scarlett revealed. "Why would he want to meet him when we’ve only just met?" Y/N nodded; she had thought about it too but had refrained from saying it.

"Time will only tell, Scar." Her best friend only nodded. After they hung up, Y/N felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. She finished packing and went straight to bed.

The day of the trip finally arrived. Y/N was getting some much-needed coffee and a snack when she was interrupted by a call from Scarlett.

"I'll never understand why people can be so slow through the TSA—"

"Y/N, please don’t kill me," she interrupted, her voice filled with urgency. Scarlett had a knot in her throat.

"What? What happened?"

"They aren't letting me board the plane. My passport expires in less than six months." She was embarrassed; nothing like this had ever happened to her. Scarlett usually checked everything multiple times. However, the one time she hadn’t was last night. "I've talked with my dad, and he's calling some people, but I'm going to miss my flight and probably the first week of the trip until I can renew it."

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on her. She was disappointed and felt like crying.

"Y/N? Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah," she cleared her throat, noticing that the barista was calling out to her. It was her turn to order. Y/N stepped aside and allowed the next person to go before her. She was no longer thirsty or hungry. "So, I’m just going to find someone to get my luggage back and go home."

"What? You aren’t going to get on the plane? Why not?"

"What am I going to do without you?"

"Relax, read a book, listen to music, get a tan and a massage, and wait until next week for me to get there. Don’t be silly," Scarlett stated the obvious. She was just calling to let Y/N know the reason for her absence, but that didn’t mean the entire trip was canceled. She was just going to be late.

"I don’t know, Scar…"

"I am not taking no for an answer, Y/N. You spent way too much money on your seat on that plane. You opted out of eating quite a few times just to be able to afford it. My dad is already there, so you won’t be completely alone."

Y/N sighed, feeling torn between her disappointment and Scarlett's insistence. "Okay, you’re right," she finally conceded. “but please hurry up”

“I will. I’ll miss you,” Scarlett replied. “I promise I’ll get on the flight first out as soon as I get my passport sorted. In the meantime, just try to enjoy yourself. It’s the Caribbean, after all.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to normalize her pulse after the panic attack that she had started having.

“I’ll try my best.”

“That's the spirit. Give my dad a hug for me and have a safe flight. Text me when you land”

“Love you. Bye”

After hanging up, Y/N forced herself to focus on the positive. The trip was a chance to unwind, and she needed to make the best out of it. She ordered her coffee, though her appetite hadn’t quite returned and headed towards her gate.

Y/N boarded the plane and found her seat and after stowing her carry- on, she settled into the window seat, gazing out at the bustling airport below.

Just as she was about to pull out her book, a tall, handsome man appeared beside her. "Looks like I'm your seatmate," he said with a friendly smile, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Y/N smiled back, noticing his warm hazel eyes and easygoing demeanor. "Great, nice to meet you," she replied.

"I'm Anthony," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Y/N," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

As the plane took off, they struck up a conversation. Anthony was friendly and easy to talk to, and Y/N found herself enjoying his company. They talked about their reasons for going to the Bahamas, shared travel stories, and laughed about the little quirks of airplane travel.

"So, what's bringing you to the Bahamas?" Anthony asked after the plane reached cruising altitude.

"I'm meeting a best friend for spring break," Y/N explained. "She got held up with a passport issue, so I’m flying solo for now."

"That’s a bummer," Anthony said sympathetically, “I am also heading there for spring break with some friends. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. What are your plans for the trip?”

“A bit of everything, I guess. Relaxing, exploring and trying out some local food. You?”

“Pretty much the same. We’re staying at a resort, but I’m hoping to see more than just the touristy spots. I’ve heard the local culture is amazing.”

They continued chatting, sharing their interests and dreams. Anthony told her about his job in marketing, his love for surfing, and his plans to travel more. Y/N opened up about her studies, her passion for writing, and her excitement for the upcoming trip.

As the plane began its descent, Anthony turned to her with a smile. “Let me give you my number. In case you ever want to join us”.

"Sure," Y/N said, smiling back. She handed him her phone, and he quickly entered his contact information.

“Feel free to text me if you want to hang out” Anthony said, hanging her phone back. “And if you ever want to try surging. I am your guy”

"I might take you up on that," Y/N said, slipping her phone into her bag.

Once the plane landed, they gathered their belongings and headed towards baggage claim together. "It was really nice meeting you," Y/N said as they reached the terminal.

"You too, Y/N. Have a great time, and hopefully, I’ll see you around."

"Definitely," Y/N replied, giving him a wave as they went their separate ways.

Scarlett had arranged for a driver to pick them up, so after she collected her luggage, she met with him by the exit doors of the airport.

As Y/N exited the bustling airport, she was greeted by a warm, tropical breeze and the vibrant colors of the Bahamas. Her driver, a cheerful man named Marcus, welcomed her with a friendly smile and helped load her luggage into a sleek black SUV. Once she was settled in the backseat, they set off toward the villa where she would be staying with Scarlett’s dad.

The drive began with a stretch through Nassau’s lively streets, brimming with a mix of local culture and tourist attractions. Y/N watched as vendors sold fresh fruits and handmade crafts from colorful stalls, and locals mingled with visitors in an atmosphere buzzing with energy. The smell of jerk chicken and conch fritters wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble in anticipation.

As they left the city behind, the scenery shifted to a more serene landscape. Palm trees lined the roads, their fronds swaying gently in the breeze. The vibrant turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea came into view, sparkling under the bright midday sun. Y/N marveled at the clarity of the water, so inviting that she could hardly wait to dive in.

They passed through quaint villages with charming pastel-colored houses, each with its own unique character. Children played in the yards, and neighbors chatted over fences, giving the area a warm, community feel. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her as they continued along the coastal road.

Y/N nodded, taking mental notes of places to explore once Scarlett arrived. The drive continued, and the road wound through lush tropical forests, alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, adding to the sensory delight.

As they neared the villa, the landscape became even more picturesque. The road led them up a gentle hill, providing breathtaking views of the ocean and the surrounding islands. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

Finally, they arrived at the villa. It was a stunning, two-story retreat perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. The architecture blended modern elegance with tropical charm, featuring large windows, spacious balconies, and a thatched roof. The garden was a paradise of vibrant flowers, exotic plants, and a sparkling infinity pool that seemed to merge with the ocean beyond.

Marcus helped Y/N with her bags and guided her inside. The interior of the villa was just as impressive as the exterior. The open-plan living area was filled with natural light, and decorated in soothing, coastal hues of blue and white. Comfortable, stylish furniture invited relaxation, and the large glass doors opened onto a terrace with panoramic ocean views.

That’s when she heard a heavy British accent say, “she is here. I’ll call you later. Let me know what they say. I love you”

Harry, Scarlett’s dad appeared from upstairs. “You must be Y/N” he said, walking over to her. “I am Harry. Welcome to our little paradise”. To say that Y/N’ was beyond surprised was an understatement. Slightly sunburned from a day in the Caribbean sun, his skin had taken on a warm, reddish hue that only accentuated his natural good looks. He was shirtless, revealing a toned, athletic build, with tattoos peeking from various places on his chest and arms. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, showcasing a casual, relaxed style. Harry’s tousled hair, still damp from a recent swim, fell in soft curls around his face, and he wore a pair of sunglasses that added a touch of mystery to his striking appearance. His easy smile and confident demeanor made him all the more attractive, embodying the perfect blend of laid-back island vibes

She had expected someone older and more conventional, not the youthful, charismatic man before her. He looked far too young to have a college-aged daughter.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit fluster. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Styles. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Call me Harry” He laughed softly, a sound as charming as his smile. “I hope you’ll feel at home”.

As he spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy confidence with which he carried himself was undeniably attractive.

She suddenly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of her travel-worn clothes and the fact that she probably smelled like the airplane. She smoothed her hair, hoping she didn't look as tired as she felt.

Harry seemed to sense her unease. "Long flight?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah, a bit," Y/N admitted, feeling a little dirty and disheveled beside him.

"Well, I can imagine you might want to freshen up. Your room has a great view and a nice big bathroom. Why don't you get settled in, and we'll have some lunch out here later?"

"That sounds perfect," Y/N said, grateful for his understanding.

Harry gave her a reassuring nod. "If you need anything, just let me know. Scarlett speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you," Y/N said, touched by his kindness. "I really appreciate it."

As she turned to head to her room, she caught herself glancing back at Harry, who had returned to lounging by the pool. His relaxed posture and the way he effortlessly fit into the tropical surroundings only added to his allure. Y/N shook her head, trying to focus. She was here to enjoy a vacation with her best friend, not get distracted by her best friend's dad, no matter how attractive and intriguing he was.

Once in her room, Y/N took a deep breath and started unpacking. The luxurious surroundings helped her relax, and as she stepped into the shower, she let the cold water wash away the travel grime and her lingering nerves. She knew this trip was going to be full of surprises, and meeting Harry was just the first of many.

After a refreshing shower, Y/N felt revitalized and ready to embrace the beauty of the Bahamas. She rummaged through her suitcase, deciding on an outfit for the evening. With a bit of confidence restored, she picked out a vibrant bikini that Scarlett had convinced her to buy. It was a flattering shade of coral that accentuated her curves and complemented her complexion. The bikini top offered just the right amount of support, enhancing her figure without being too revealing.

She took her time getting ready, applying a light layer of sunscreen and letting her hair dry naturally into soft waves. Y/N gave herself one last approving look in the mirror, feeling much better than she had after the flight. She slipped into a flowy cover-up and grabbed her favorite book before heading downstairs.

As she walked through the villa, she could hear the faint sound of music and the gentle hum of conversation from the terrace. Stepping outside, she saw Harry lounging by the pool, sipping a drink and reading something on his tablet. He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her appearance.

“Better?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of warmth feeling embarrassed by her appearance earlier.

“I though I’d take your advice and relax by the pool for a bit.” As she placed her book on the sunbed, just so she could let her cover-up slip off, revealing her bikini. Harry’s appreciative gaze didn’t go unnoticed and she felt a surge of confidence.

“Good” he replied, gesturing to the sunbed next to his. “I hope you applied some sunscreen. The sun here is ruthless”

“I did” She smiled and settled onto the sunbed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. She opened her book, trying to focus on the words, but she couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. He was even more attractive up close, with his sun-kissed skin and the tattoos that peeked out from his swim trunks. The way he effortlessly exuded confidence and charm was captivating.

"Good book?" Harry asked, breaking her reverie.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N said, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been meaning to finish it for a while.”

"What's it about?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"It’s a mystery novel," she explained, holding up the cover for him to see. "Keeps me on my toes.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves and the tropical breeze creating a soothing backdrop. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she hadn't expected. The rest of their first day was spent by the pool. Harry excused himself after dinner to work. On the other hand Y/N stayed outside to watch the sunset on her own.

“What are you working on?” Y/N asked the next day as she noticed Harry picking up his tablet and stylus.

“Designing a new building” Harry was the owner of an architectural firm. He spent most of his days, leaned over his design table, drawing.

“What kind of building is it?” Y/N said, genuinely impressed.

"It’s a mixed-use development," Harry replied, turning the tablet so she could see the screen. "It’s going to have retail spaces on the lower levels and residential units above. The idea is to create a community where people can live, work, and play all in one place."

Y/N leaned in closer, sliding her sunglasses down, admiring the detailed sketches and blueprints. “What’s your vision for it?”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he began to explain. “The design focuses on sustainability and integrating green spaces. There will be rooftop gardens, lots of natural light, and energy-efficient systems. I’m trying to create something that not only looks good but also feels good to live in.”

Y/N could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke, and she was fascinated by his creativity. “It sounds truly special”

“I hope it is” Harry said, smiling appreciatively.

Y/N watched as Harry continued to draw, the lines and shapes forming into intricate designs under his skilled hand. "How did you get into architecture?"

“I’ve always loved drawing and building things," Harry said, leaning back and gazing at the horizon. “When I was a kid, I’d spend hours with sketchbooks. It just felt natural to pursue architecture. I studied it in college and worked my way up through different firms before starting my own. How about you? What are you majoring in?" Harry asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Y/N frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of disappointment that she didn't share the same passion for her career choice as he did. "Journalism," she replied with a hint of hesitation, her gaze momentarily drifting away. She took a deep breath, feeling a pang of uncertainty as she compared her own career path to Harry's evident passion for architecture.

"It's... it's something I chose because I thought it would be interesting," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of honesty and self-reflection. "But lately, I've been feeling like maybe it's not what I'm truly passionate about."

Harry listened attentively, his expression thoughtful. "I understand," he said gently. “It’s okay. You are still young and it takes time to find that passion. Have you though about what inspires you?”

Y/N nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I've always enjoyed writing and telling stories," she admitted. "But I haven't found that one thing that really lights a fire in me, like architecture does for you."

Harry smiled warmly. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. You still got a long way ahead of you and sometimes that passion reveals itself unexpectedly” he said.

Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing. Her confidence and natural grace shone through, making her even more captivating. He admired the way she moved with a relaxed elegance, her laughter and smiles lighting up the surroundings. Every detail, from the way her hair fell in gentle waves to the sparkle in her eyes as she talked animatedly, only added to her allure.

He couldn’t help imagining her naked, under him, moaning, begging for him. Harry though about how deliciously tight and warm she could feel around him. He thought about how she would taste and his mouth water. He didn’t last long. As he allowed the water to wash him off, he couldn’t help feeling ashamed. Ashamed that he was acting like a schoolboy. He was forty-four years old and fantasizing about his daughter's best friend while she slept downstairs.

part 2

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 9

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2937 Click here for Part 8

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

The months passed by with Y/N and Lando’s relationship growing deeper steadily. In the 11 months they had been with each other they both had learned to cope with Lando’s busy lifestyle. The next Grand Prix was just around the corner and Lando had always thrived on the adrenaline of racing but today the excitement was dimmed by a heavy feeling of responsibility. Every detail needed his attention and this meant missing Noah’s fifth birthday party, which was less than a week away.

He glanced at the demanding schedule on his desk and felt a pang of guilt. He opened his laptop and called Y/N, hoping to at least share a moment of happiness remotely via video. When her face appeared on the screen the dining table in the background was cluttered with birthday decorations ready to be hung up, of course racing themed.

“Hey baby,” Lando said, trying to sound upbeat. “How’s everything going for the big day?”

“Hi,” Y/N’s smile was warm. “We’re getting everything ready, he’s really excited and he’s been asking about you a lot.”

Lando tried to mask his sadness with a smile. “I’m sorry I can’t make it, things are just incredibly hectic right now.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. “He understands and he’s so proud of you! He even drew a picture of you racing and he’s been showing it off to everyone. He’s really looking forward to when you’re back and we can all spend some time together.”

Just then the boy appeared on the screen, holding up the drawing with a beaming smiley face. “Lando, look! I made this for you, it’s you in the car!”

Lando’s heart melted at the sight. “Wow, Noah, that’s fantastic! I’m going to keep it in my suitcase to remind me of you.”

Noah’s face lit up. “Will you win the race for me?”

“I’ll definitely try my best,” Lando said sincerely. “And when I get back, we’ll have a special day together. How about we finally go to a go-kart track and race like I do? You can show me how fast you are.”

“Really? That sounds amazing!” Noah’s eyes sparkled with excitement and Y/N gave Lando a grateful look. “Thank you for making the effort to connect, even if you can’t be here in person.”

‐—-------

In the days following the video call Lando couldn’t shake the guilt of missing Noah’s birthday. He had promised to make it up to them and he was determined to keep that promise. Between the hectic preparations for the Grand Prix and the relentless schedule it seemed nearly impossible but Lando was set on finding a way.

Late one evening he sat in his living room and stared at his calendar. Meetings, strategy sessions and media obligations filled every available slot. But the more he looked, the more he felt that missing Noah’s birthday wasn't just a minor oversight, it was an opportunity lost to be there for someone who meant so much to him.

The idea was simple: create a small window of time to surprise them before the Grand Prix. It would be tight, but with some help he believed it could be done.

“Hey, Oscar, do you have a moment to chat?” Lando spoke into his phone after his team mate had picked up.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need a huge favor,” Lando said. “Noah’s turning five this week and I’ve been looking forward to celebrating his birthday with him. But with all the media meetings and events I have lined up I’m struggling to figure out how to be in two places at once.”

Oscar listened carefully. “What can I do to help?”

Lando took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could cover some of my media meetings and sponsor commitments for a few days. Noah and Y/N are my family now and I can’t bear the thought of missing this day.”

“I get it, Lando. Family is everything, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Thank you, Oscar,” Lando felt a surge of relief, “Noah looks up to me and Y/N has been incredibly supportive during our entire relationship. I want to be there for both of them just this once.”

Oscar chuckled softly, finding Lando’s dedication endearing. “You know, it’s kind of cute to see how much you care about them. It’s clear how much they mean to you.”

Lando smiled, a bit embarrassed, grateful that Oscar wasn’t able to see him. “Well, when you find the right people it changes everything. I’m really lucky to have them in my life.”

“Just send me the details and I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. You focus on having a great time.”

“Thank you so much,” Lando said gratefully. “It means more to me than you know. I’ll get you all the details in a bit.”

“No problem at all,” Oscar assured him. “We’re all part of a team here and we support each other. If there’s anything else you need just let me know.”

With their conversation wrapped up, Lando quickly called his assistant to inform him of the changes and then compiled the necessary details for Oscar, relieved and grateful for his friend’s support.

_________

The day of the surprise arrived and Lando boarded a private jet early in the morning, arriving in Y/N’s city just in time to make the most of his brief visit. He kept his plan a secret, even from Y/N, to ensure it would be a complete surprise.

When Lando arrived at Y/N’s house, he was greeted by colorful birthday decorations and the buzz of children’s laughter. Y/N opened the door, her eyes widening in disbelief when she saw him.

“Lando! What are you doing here?” Y/N gasped and hugged her boyfriend tightly before kissing him for a few seconds.

“Surprise! I couldn’t miss his birthday, so I rearranged my schedule to be here.”

Y/N’s face lit up with happiness. “He’s going to be thrilled. He’s been so excited for today.”

As Noah ran up to the hallway his face brightened when he saw Lando. “You came!”

Lando crouched down and the two of them hugged tightly for a moment, then Lando handed the birthday boy a large box wrapped in orange, his favorite color. “This is for you, happy birthday, buddy.”

Noah eagerly unwrapped the box to find a high-quality remote-controlled race car. His eyes widened. “This is amazing, it’s just like the car you drive!”

“It is,” Lando said with a grin. “And I thought we could have some fun together testing it out.”

Before they could start playing Noah’s friends, who had been watching from a distance, gathered around, their eyes wide with disbelief as they recognized Lando. The kids stared in awe, their excitement growing as Lando greeted them. “Hi everyone,” Lando said with a friendly wave. “I’m glad to finally meet all of Noah’s friends.”

The children took turns asking Lando questions about racing and they all spent the afternoon racing the remote-controlled car around the yard, with Noah’s friends eagerly joining in to cheer them on. The party was a huge success and after seeing the joy on Noah’s face Lando knew he had made the right decision.

—-----

The next evening Lando was preparing to leave for the Grand Prix when Y/N approached him, Noah standing next to her with a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Before you go, Noah has something he made for you,” Y/N said. “He and his class had a project where they crafted gifts for the special people in their lives. He was really excited about this and he wanted to give this to you next time you were here.”

The boy, standing beside Y/N, handed over the gift. “I picked you because you’re my hero.”

“Aw,” Lando responded, visibly touched by the gesture, “thank you so much, I can’t wait to see what you’ve created.”

Lando unwrapped it eagerly but just as carefully and he discovered a handmade notebook. The cover was decorated with stickers, including race cars, stars and an orange glittery “L.” Inside, the pages were filled with Noah’s heartfelt notes and colorful drawings about their adventures at the tracks so far together.

Lando felt himself tear up as he flipped through the pages. Each drawing depicted a different scene, a race car zooming across a track, Lando in his racing suit and Noah himself with a big smile in the garage. But it was the final page that truly got to him.

The last drawing was a vibrant crayon depiction of a family. It showed Lando, Y/N and Noah together, smiling and holding hands, surrounded by stars and hearts. The drawing was labeled with the words: “Our Happy Family.”

Lando could barely keep himself from crying. He turned to Noah, who was watching him with wide, hopeful eyes. “This is the most beautiful drawing I’ve ever seen. It means so much to me that you see us this way.”

“I wanted you to have something special because you’re always so busy and away from us.”

Y/N, seeing Lando’s emotional reaction, added softly, “Noah was so proud of his project. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him.”

Just in that moment Y/N’s phone rang and she stepped away to answer. Lando took the opportunity to grab Noah’s hand and guide him to sit down next to him on the sofa. “Can I tell you something, Noah?”

The boy looked up, curious. “What is it?”

Lando took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I want you to know how much I love both you and your mom. Being with you two has made me happier than I’ve ever been.”

Noah’s eyes widened with interest. “Really?”

“Really,” Lando said, nodding. “And there’s something I’ve been thinking about. I want to ask your mommy to marry me but I wanted to make sure you’re okay with it first.”

“You mean you want to be our family forever?” Noah’s face lit up with excitement and the young man smiled, feeling relieved. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I want us to be a family, just like in your drawing. What do you think?”

Noah thought for a moment, then asked shyly, “If you’re going to be our family, you kind of would be my dad then?”

Lando’s heart melted. “That would make me very happy. But let’s keep this a secret for now, okay? We’ll surprise your mommy together when the time is right.”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered and the both shared a big smile while Noah snuggled up to the man.

_____

Lando had spent the last few weeks juggling the thrill of Formula 1 races with the excitement of planning a surprise that meant more to him than any victory on the track. He had been dating Y/N for well over a year now, a year that had flown by in a blur of love and laughter. Their relationship had grown and Lando knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

There was just one thing missing: the perfect proposal. So, he decided to involve someone very important in his plan, someone who would have a unique perspective and whose opinion mattered a lot to both Y/N and Lando. That someone was Noah.

During his next weekend off Lando gently woke Y/N one morning and informed her about the day’s agenda.

“Good morning, love,” Lando said softly, smiling and kissing her forehead. “I’ve got a little surprise planned for you today.”

Y/N blinked sleepily. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“I’m taking Noah for a boys’ day out. You’re going to have a day to yourself; shopping, pampering, whatever you want, baby. Just relax and enjoy.”

“And what are you two up to?”

Lando gave a mysterious grin. “You’ll find out soon enough. Have fun today!”

With that he placed a loving kiss on her head and quietly tiptoed over to Noah’s room where the boy was already awake, the space a cheerful mess of toys. 

“Good morning, buddy,” Lando greeted, tousling his hair. “Are you ready for a little secret mission?”

Noah’s eyes widened with curiosity. “A mission? What kind of mission?”

Lando knelt down to Noah’s level, a playful grin on his face. “It’s a very important mission. I need your help to plan something really special for your mommy.”

“What is it?” Noah’s face lit up with excitement. 

“Remember when I told you a while ago that I wanted to ask your mom to marry me?” Lando asked. “I need your help to make sure it’s perfect. Can you help me with it?”

Noah’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Yes, I’ll help! What do we need to do?”

Before they were able to head out they had to get ready. First he had to get the boy dressed. Lando picked out a pair of comfy jeans, then held up a colorful, striped shirt and a grey hoodie. 

“Which one?” Lando asked, holding them up for Noah to see.

“This one,” Noah pointed at the hoodie, “so we look like twins because you’re wearing a similar hoodie.”

“Great choice,” Lando laughed, setting the clothes on the bed. “I have to start selling some LN4 merch for kids…” he mumbled to himself, still giggling while helping the kid put on the hoodie, carefully guiding his head through the hole and then assisting him with the jeans.

Next up were the shoes. Noah struggled a bit with the laces, so Lando patiently demonstrated how to tie them with the boy sitting on his lap and intensively watching the man make two bows and soon Noah was proudly showing off his neatly tied sneakers.

“You’re all set, bud” Lando said, giving Noah a playful fist bump.

Noah looked down at himself, beaming with pride. “Thanks, I look great.”

“You sure do,” Lando chuckled and a few minutes later they were on their way.

Lando could hardly contain his own excitement as they headed out, Noah chattering away about superheroes and cars. They made their way to a luxurious jewelry store that Lando had carefully selected and once inside Lando crouched down to Noah’s level. 

“Okay, buddy, here’s the plan. We’re going to pick out the prettiest ring we can find for your mommy. I want it to be perfect and I need your expert opinion. Do you think you can help me with that?”

The boy nodded proudly. They wandered through the store and he would occasionally stop to inspect a ring with intense focus. Lando enjoyed watching Noah’s careful consideration, amazed at just how seriously the little kid took his task.

After a while, Noah stopped in front of a classic, elegant ring with a solitaire diamond. His eyes grew big and he looked up at Lando with a confident grin. “I think this one is the best! It’s so shiny and pretty!”

Lando studied the ring. It was perfect; timeless and beautiful, just like Y/N. He smiled and nodded, clearly impressed. “I think you’re right. This is the one!”

Noah beamed with pride as the ring was carefully packaged. “I can’t wait to see mommy’s face when she sees it!”

With the ring selected they headed to a nearby fast food restaurant where Lando turned to Noah for ideas for the proposal. Over shared chicken nuggets, fries and milkshakes they came up with a perfect plan and after they had finished their meals and bought the rest of the supplies they would need they quickly made their way home knowing that Y/N was still going to be out for another few hours.

Back at the house they worked together to prepare the living room. They created a colorful path by lining the walls with some pictures Noah quickly drew, depicting past memories the three of them had made together and at the end of the trail is where they were going to wait for her.

When Y/N arrived a few hours later she followed the trail of Noah’s drawings, her heart swelling with emotion as she admired each piece, confused about what was happening but curious to find out what was awaiting at the end of the trail. Eventually she saw Noah with the biggest smile on his face, holding a large sign that read “Will You Marry Lando?”

In the center of the room and next to her son stood Lando, surrounded by Y/N’s favorite flowers and big red shiny heart balloons scattered around him and Noah. He took Y/N’s hand, his voice filled with emotion. “Y/N, we’ve been planning something special for you today.”

Noah, proudly holding the sign and not being able to wait any longer, added, “Mommy, Lando and I picked out a ring for you. We wanted it to be perfect!”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she looked back at Lando who dropped to one knee, holding out the beautiful ring. “Y/N, I love you more than words can express and I want nothing more than to be a family with you and Noah. Will you marry me?”

Overwhelmed with emotion Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, Lando. Of course I will!”

Noah jumped up and down with joy just as Lando slipped the ring onto Y/N’s finger. They embraced each other tightly, with Noah joining in, sharing kisses knowing that the journey of their little family was just starting.

_____

Click here for Part 10! I can't stop writing this series, send help

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @ririyulife @deafeningunknowntyrant @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @eloriis @yawn-zi @landossainz @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @casuallyeating @jaydensluv @destinyg237 @il0vereadingstuff @lnchicagosreads @alana4610 @hc-dutch @cherry-piee @wisestarfishbouquet

[little-diable]

Midnight Hotline - Dean Winchester (smut)

After meeting Jensen Ackles this weekend, I simply needed to write a Dean drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For weeks now, Dean has been calling the Midnight Hotline to speak to Lilith, a stranger he has fallen in love with while sharing his secrets and confessions. And now as they are in the same city, it’s finally time to meet.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), strangers to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

“Midnight Hotline, this is Lilith speaking.” Her voice rang in his ears, instantly drawing a smile to his lips. He had to clear his throat before speaking up, sinking further into the leather seat as his eyes stared down on the city.  

“Hi, Lilith. It’s me.” The chuckle rumbling through her made his heart skip a beat. A by now all too familiar warmth began to spread through him, instantly distracting him from the grim feeling he hadn’t been able to shake. 

“Bobby! I was waiting for your call.” He still wasn’t used to the name he had given her weeks ago, knowing that he couldn’t share any personal details with the voice on the other end of the line. Dean hadn’t given the name much thought, it had instantly come to mind to comfort himself when he needed strength to move on. Strength only she managed to give him lately - her, the voice of a woman he didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was busy, but I missed talking to you.” The words rolled off Dean’s tongue before he could stop them, trying to ignore the heat now spreading through his cheeks. He fumbled with the zip of his leather jacket, needing to find something he could use to distract himself from the sensations her voice pushed through him.

“Oh, I missed you too! Were you travelling again?” A deep hum left Dean while he wondered how she wore her hair today, what she wore and how she was feeling now, talking to him. Weeks ago he had asked her for a description of herself, it hadn’t been much, besides her hair and eye color, and yet it had been enough to shoot shudders down his spine. 

“I was, I’m in Colorado now.” Her breath shuddered as she exhaled, making him awfully aware of the silence that followed his words. Dean counted the passing by seconds, only allowing the sound of Lilith clearing her throat to interrupt him. 

“I’m also in Colorado.” She whispered the words, making Dean awfully aware of the thoughts now seemingly racing through her mind. 

Could this be their chance? Could this be the moment to break all rules she had once sworn to follow? 

“Where are you at, sweetheart?” Once again she mumbled the reply, leaving Dean to swallow heavily as he stared down at the city whose name she had just dropped. For a moment, he pondered over his choices, wondering if he should go ahead and follow the call of his heart to finally meet the woman who called herself Lilith, or if he should stay away like his mind begged him to. 

“When does your shift end?” His question was met with silence. Perhaps he had gone too far, perhaps she didn’t want to meet him like he desperately wanted to meet her. But the shaky giggle leaving her told Dean all he needed to know. She wanted this as much as he did, bound together by the past weeks, aching to finally meet after imagining the other since their first call. 

“Are we really doing this?” She kept her voice small, seemingly wondering herself if this was a good idea. Dean’s tongue rang along his lower lip, buying his racing heart a few more seconds before speaking up again. 

“We sure as hell are, sweetheart. Where should I pick you up?” 

……

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous. This had something so unfamiliar to it, he had to force his body to stay right there and not to run like he wanted to. For the first time since he could remember, Dean began to doubt the way he may come across, wondering if she felt the same draw he had been trying to swallow and bury six feet under for a while now.

But before he could rerun all the things he wanted to say to her again, the sound of somebody nearing ripped his focus from his phone. He was leaning against Baby, wrapped in his dark jacket to try and shield himself from the cold air of the night, sensations that were forgotten the second his eyes met hers. 

Dean could instantly tell that it was her, carrying a soft smile that made him forget everything around him. His heart was in his throat, pounding louder than it had ever before - all while watching her approach. He allowed his eyes to take her in, wandering up and down her frame, just like hers did with him. Fuck, she was even prettier than he had imagined her to be, a woman so gorgeous, Dean wasn’t sure if he was under some spell, toying with his vision. 

“Bobby?” The sound of her voice forced all darkening thoughts into the back of his mind, purely focused on her. He nodded his head while reaching his hand out for her to take, set on pulling her in for a hug. The scent of her perfume washed through him, forcing Dean’s mind to cling to it with the silent promise of remembering this for the rest of his life. 

Her arms found their way around his middle, letting her head rest against his chest as he hugged her. No word was shared between them, letting their minds catch up with what was happening - something they had been dreaming of and longing for ever since their first call. 

“Hi,” she softly mumbled the word, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to uncover his every secret, instantly leaving Dean breathless. He couldn’t stop his hand from cupping her warm cheek, letting his thumb trace her soft skin as he repeated the word. 

“You’re even more handsome than I imagined you to be.” Her voice didn’t carry much strength as she spoke, just enough to draw a soft blush to his cold cheeks. 

“Well, seems like we got something in common there, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” Her smile grew wider at his compliment, keeping her focus on him as she slowly loosened her grip on him. But Dean didn’t let go of her just yet, needing to feel her close for as long as possible. “My real name’s Dean, I’m sorry for keeping that from you.” 

Her laugh left him grinning, watching her shake her head while moving closer once again, “Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m (y/n).” 

Dean had to force himself to snap out of his hazy state, wanting to cross the small distance between them to taste her name on his tongue for the first time before kissing her. But even though his heart urged him on to move, he fought against it, at least for now.

“Are you hungry? Or you want to go for a drink?” She studied him for a handful of seconds, unable to bite down her growing grin. 

“How about you come over to mine? I have some beer at home.” 

……

“Here you go.” She gave Dean a bottle of beer before sitting down next to him, letting her eyes take in every inch of his handsome features. The whole thing felt like a dream, something that was entirely too good to be true, and yet (y/n) tried to cherish every second, not daring to break away from him. “This still feels surreal. What are you even doing around here?”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a few sips of beer, buying himself some time before clearing his throat. Dean had his arm placed on the couch, resting behind her to keep (y/n) somewhat close without touching her, just enough closeness to give her the opportunity to shuffle closer and rest against him. A draw both were held hostage by, unable to fight against it. 

“My brother and I had some work stuff to do around here.” A hum left her, eyes fully focused on Dean and the soft smile playing on his lips. She could marvel at him for hours, getting lost in the green pupils that told stories she wanted to uncover one by one, learning everything about the man she had developed a crush on without even seeing him. 

“So, you will leave soon again, won’t you?” He placed the bottle down before fully turning towards her, hand finding her shoulder to let his fingers run along her skin. A sombre feeling began to stretch through the two of them, knowing that their time together wasn’t long and would end sooner than both liked. Dean nodded his head, trying to find words that would promise his return, even though he knew it could be weeks, perhaps even months, until he’d get another chance to return.

“Seems like we’ll have to make the best out of our time then.” The words rolled off her tongue seconds before she shuffled closer, letting her arms find their way around his neck. Three seconds passed until Dean began to move, two shaky breaths left them both, and one mumble of his name was all it took for Dean to kiss her breathless.

Perhaps they were moving all too fast, skipping important steps others clung to. But for the past weeks they had shared more with one another than they had with any other person, set on learning everything about the person on the other end of the line. It felt like they simply belonged together, forming a bond so sweet and sincere, neither had felt this alive before. 

Dean pulled her into his lap, hands resting on her waist to try and ground himself. This was more than just a fun night with a woman he’d never see again. This was everything he had never dared to give in to. This was what he had always feared, being with a woman who held his heart in her hands, giving her the power to toy with him. 

“Will this be a one night thing only?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against his slightly puffy lips, not daring to get lost in his darkening eyes before she had her answer. Dean’s hand found her chin, tilting it upwards to let her eyes find his. 

“Do you want it to be a one night thing?” His raspy voice buzzed through her like lightning striking her trembling body, setting her ablaze with a heat so strong, (y/n) feared she was about to lose control over her body. She had never been one for taking drugs, for chasing highs she couldn’t control, but now she couldn’t care about letting go, not when Dean held her oh so close. 

“No.” It was a simple reply, and yet it was enough to make a smirk grow on his lips. Dean kissed her again before he rose to his feet with her clinging to him, wordlessly letting her guide him towards her bedroom with her finger pointed in the right direction. Carefully, he placed her down on her bed, making room for him to shuffle out of his shirt to expose his naked upper body to her wandering eyes. 

“This is much more than just one night, I will come back to you, sweetheart. I promise.” Her laughter reverberated through the bedroom, leaving Dean chuckling before he tugged on her shirt. Both were a mess of tangled limbs as they undressed, leaving them both in their underwear before he pushed (y/n) down on the mattress, hovering over her. 

His lips kissed their way to her chest, sucking on the spots that made her breath hitch in her chest. Dean was high on her noises, wondering if being with women had always been like this and if he had simply never paid enough attention or if this was all about being with (y/n). Everything about this felt different, a routine he had once known by heart turning into something completely new he never wanted to let go of again. 

“Dean, touch me, please. Been waiting too long for this to happen.” (Y/n)’s impatient words left him chuckling while he undid her bra, exposing her breasts to his excited eyes. Sweet nothings left him as he marked her up, sucking on her hardening nubs and letting his hands palm her skin before moving further down south. Their eyes held contact, connected through every passing moment. 

“You’re so gorgeous, baby, I can’t wait to have my way with you.” She mewled his name, eyes fluttering close as he pressed a kiss to her clothed heat. Slowly, Dean pulled her panties down her legs, letting the fabric drop to the ground before kissing his way to her pulsing bundle. A moan clawed through (y/n) at the new sensation, high on the feeling of his rough tongue brushing against her bundle, on the way he brushed two fingers through her slit to spread her arousal on her warm skin. “You taste so sweet, fuck, I could do this forever.” 

“Make me cum, please, Dean. I need you.” (Y/n) arched her back off the mattress, toes curled as her orgasm crept closer and closer. He sucked on her bundle, drawing another moan from her that left him grinning in success. Dean wanted to see her cum when he was buried deep inside of her, knowing that he couldn’t drag this out much longer. “I want you so bad, make me yours.”

“You’re already mine, sweetheart. I’d be stupid to let you go again.” He let go of her to step out of his boxers, hand finding his hard cock to give it a few tugs. (Y/n) momentarily shuffled away from her spot, reaching for a condom Dean rolled down on his length, leaving both nervous for a second as he positioned himself. 

“Oh my god, fuck.” She choked on her words as he sank into her, moving slowly to let them both adjust. Dean pressed his forehead against hers, giving her the opportunity to sling one arm around his neck while the other ran down his back, scratching at his skin. He moved carefully at first, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist while he stretched her perfectly, making her feel full with every thrust. 

“Focus on me, baby.” Their eyes met again, wordlessly sharing their every thought, every longing they struggled to put into words. She felt loved, more loved than ever before, all because of a man she had met for the first time hours ago, even though she knew his darkest and deepest secrets. He felt appreciated and complete for the first time in his life, he had finally found what he had always been searching for, and it had come in the shape of a woman he had fallen head over heels in love with.

Their bodies melted together with every thrust, tangled limbs and racing hearts that formed a completed picture. She whimpered his name, knowing that her orgasm was all too close and ready to bury her six feet under with Dean clinging to her like ancient lovers buried together. Nothing could rip them apart, nothing could stand in their way as they loved one another like they had always ached to be loved. 

“I’m so close, Dean.” Her whispers spurred him on, letting his hand find her bundle to give her the needed pressure. She came first, letting go with another moan as his hips kept snapping against hers. Dean fucked her through her high, watching her unfold beneath him with a proud smirk glued to his lips.

He came moments later, burying his face in the crook of her neck to let the scent of her perfume engulf him. She clung to him, wordlessly trying to find back to reality as both panted, “Never let me go again, Dean.” 

“Never, baby, it’s you and me against the world.”

[ode2rin]

if his tendency to spend all of his money on you (not that any purchase could make a dent in his massive empire) wasn't annoying enough, reo had developed another endearing yet infuriating habit—one that left you torn between feeling adored and wanting to throw the nearest pillow at his face.

said man is currently in the kitchen with you, attempting (albeit with some struggle) to be useful by following your every move. tired of his constant hovering, you assigned him a simple task to keep him busy: taking out the groceries from the paper bags.

here came his habit again. the first time he did it, you brushed it off, assuming he hadn't heard you well due to the distance. the second time, you noticed his subtle perks and pouts. now, for the third time, you were determined to catch him.

“reo…” from where you’re standing, you could see how he perks up at your call, “can you pass me the apple?”

silence. 

you’re right. you tried again, just to be sure.

“reo.”

another beat of silence. this one followed by an affectionate sigh and a wry smile on your face.

“love, can you pass me the —”

“here.” 

almost instantly, reo materialized beside you, a beaming smile adorning his face, looking at you like his gaze meant to say, ‘yes. i am love, that’s me.’ he extended the requested fruit with a graceful motion, his fingers gentle as he offered it to you.

this man, really. “so, you can hear me properly after all, huh?”

“yeah? my hearing is fine.” 

“oh, is it? i couldn’t tell because i called you twice, and you weren’t responding. why is that?” you teased, a fond smile gracing your lips as you start slicing the apple you washed.

he pouts, his go-to theatrical gesture that's hard to ignore. “you know why,” he mumbles.

of course, you do. you had used that endearment once, and now, suddenly he insists on being called by nothing else. it had been a slip of your tongue, a phrase that felt like it was custom-made for him and him alone. looking at how his smile nearly outshines the sun when you address him as such, you can't help but consider that maybe love—both the word and the emotion it embodies—is all about him, for you.

you love that smile more than anything, so if it means a simple endearment could paint it on his face, you're happy to oblige. well, not without a few playful teases first.

“what if i’m on the brink of danger — like a crocodile is chasing me, and i’m about to die, and i call out your name like ‘reo!’ are you still going to ignore me? because i didn't call you love?” you turn to face reo briefly, then return to your task of slicing apples, the motion fluid and familiar. 

it's always been the scene – you doing kitchen work and him watching you, because your boyfriend is a little helpless when it comes to knives, pans, and a stove. or in simpler words, anything to do with what a kitchen is for.

“first of all, that's an incredible imagination and such a realistic situation, given that we live in a city far from any vicinity of swamps, marshlands, brackish waters, and wherever the hell crocodiles live,” reo counters, his voice amused and suddenly defensive. 

as he was about to start explaining his second point, you interrupt by placing a sliced apple into his mouth, a light-hearted gesture of “shush” as you hear him out.

but reo is not reo if not stubborn, so even with a muffled voice, he continues. “second, is that what you think of me? you know i will come flying to you!” now, that’s an honest and valid point.

“and lastly, you call everyone a cute pet name. last week, you called a kid sweetie. yesterday, you called a stray cat darling and lovely. then you’re here calling me reo? just reo?” his tone is laced with disbelief, his volume slightly lowered, revealing a hint of embarrassment at his little rant.

a chuckle escapes you as he concludes his argument, prompting you to turn around and draw closer, your arms finding their place around his neck, while his arms encircle you instinctively, holding you close against him.

“reo is my favorite word, though. it’s too bad that you don’t like it.” you murmured.

reo knows what you’re doing. “you’re distracting me.”

“is it working?”

of course, it does. reo isn’t just helpless in the kitchen, but he is a much worse case of helplessness when faced with your warm gaze and soft charms.

he nodded in affirmation, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back, “have i told you i love you?” he asks, swiftly changing the matter.

“only everyday, love.”

reo began again, ever stubborn and persistent, always eager to prove his point. “that’s not enough. i think i should do it every hour—”

“i love you.”

another beat of silence, again, for the third time. 

if it wasn't evident before, it's undeniable now – reo is really helplessly in love with you. such testament to that is him now gaping and at a loss of words for your sudden declaration.

reo needs you to go back to your usual teasing self; your affectionate version might just give him a heart attack.

smiling to yourself because you caught him off guard, you took your chance. “now, go there and sit. as much as i love having you around, you are an awful cook, let alone an assistant.” you gently pushed his chest, guiding him toward the couch.

“that's not how you speak to your loved one, though.” he mumbled in response, seemingly recovered from your sudden i love you that almost knocked the air out of him.

“are you saying something?”

“i said, off the couch i go.”

you shook your head, a fond smile gracing your lips as you watched him, before heading back to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

your loved one, huh? that’s him, definitely. 

reo and love, to you, it’s the same thing.

note. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LOVER (i swear i planned something better pls forgive me) i'm late i know but it's still august 12 here :P i don't know what this is but pls take it away from me. reo i love you i love you i love—

[cinnoasch]

Charmed [2] (March x Reader)

A/N: Here is part 2! Once again extremely fun to write. I have received requests and am working on them, so they will be out soon! Story under the cut!

Charmed [1] Here

Word Count: 2852

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

March runs a hand through his hair as he tosses another balled up piece of paper behind him. He had already finished his orders for today and now he was hunched over his desk, drawing. Papers are scattered across the desk, many of them have scribbles across them or large X’s drawn on them. He knew what you had said, that you didn’t care if his drawing was good or not. But to him, it mattered. Everything he did, he put his best foot forward. It had to be perfect.

“Woah, it’s like a tornado came through here.” 

March glances behind him. “Oh, hey Ryis.”

“Hey.” Ryis replies, walking into the shop. He approaches the back of the shop, peeking over March’s shoulder. “Oh…those aren’t blueprints.”

March jolts and in a frenzy pushes all the papers and pencils off his desk. He looks up at Ryis, face burning in embarrassment. “...there was no point in me doing that, huh? You saw?”

Ryis grins, chuckling. “Yeah, I saw. So, I’m guessing things went well last week?”

“...I mean I guess.” March mumbles. “The only thing that’s not going well is this.” He gestures at the state of the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I’d rather work on nails than this.”

“It’s troubling you that much?” Ryis asks. He picks up a few papers off of the ground, looking at each of them. “These aren’t bad, you’re definitely progressing.”

“Yeah… but it’s not perfect.”

“It doesn’t need to be.” Ryis replies. He sets the small stack down on the table, and the portrait you gave March catches his attention. “Hm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one.” March says as he leans back in his chair. He sighs slightly, his gaze wanders over to the portrait. “...I don’t want to give them something half-assed. Not after receiving something like that.”

“I get that. You want to give them something that invokes the same feeling you had, right? In my opinion, I don’t think it has to be a drawing. As long as it’s from the heart, I think that makes all the difference.”

“From the heart?” 

Ryis nods, “Mhm. Just think about it. You’ll figure it out.” He gives a wave as he walks out of the shop. “See ya.”

“What the hell…?” March shakes his head. He stands up, stretching slightly. From the heart…? What did that even mean?

When you drew that portrait, was that from the heart? Heat slowly rises on his cheeks and March pushes that thought away. It was embarrassing to think about. Even more so, it was embarrassing to think about how happy he was whenever he looked at it.

March already knew why that was. Even Ryis had mentioned it last week. Was it because of these feelings that he wanted to give you something that expressed that? Something that was perfect? 

Just then the shop door opens and Valen walks in, greeting him. “Good morning March. My, it looks like you’ve been busy. Practicing drawing, I see.”

His face turns red as he quickly starts gathering the papers and pencils off the ground and tucks them away in the desk drawer. He clears his throat, leaning against the desk. “Did you need something, Valen?”

“Yes, actually. I’m in need of some new medical tools. My old ones have dulled considerably.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it.”

“Thank you, March.” Then Valen adds, “You look…distracted. Is there something on your mind?”

March blinks a couple of times, then he sighs. “...sort of.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Don’t you want me to get started on your tools?”

Valen smiles. “Those can wait. Go on, tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can help.” She leans against the wall, waiting for March to respond.

“...If you wanted to give someone a gift…” March starts slowly. “What would you give them?”

“Hmm, that depends on the person I’m giving the gift to. Though I assume you’re giving something to a certain someone… say Y/N, for instance?”

“You…better not say anything to them.”

Valen chuckles, “I won’t, you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s see here…” She hums in thought. “Ah, well why don’t we rely on your strong suit then? Y/N did mention in passing that they recently lost a bracelet of theirs while in the mines. Maybe you could do something with that?”

“A bracelet?” He mumbles. He did recall a copper band that dangled off of your wrist, though you haven’t been wearing it as of late if he remembered correctly. “I could make them a new one… maybe silver?”

“I think that would be a perfect gift.”

March nods in agreement, “Thanks, Valen.” He takes a seat at his desk, grabbing a pencil and a blank sheet of paper from the drawer. He glances back at her. “I’ll have your tools done soon, promise.”

She lightly smiles. “I’m not in a rush to get them, so no worries. Good luck, March.” With that, Valen leaves the shop.

March starts to sketch out a few designs. It was no different than working on blueprints. He could do this. This could be just the thing that would tell you exactly what he wanted you to know. 

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

Friday night rolls around and March walks into the inn, fiddling with the finished silver bracelet in his apron pocket. Now that the day was finally here, he was slightly nervous. Did he go overboard with this? The past few days he had been working on the bracelet, even starting from scratch at some points because he wasn’t satisfied with it. Yesterday he had finally finished it though, the bracelet adorned with a few gems he bought from Balor, as well as some small designs March added himself. It was just some flowers and leaves, though he had to admit adding them was harder than he thought, especially on such a small piece of metal.

Would you like it? Hell, would you even accept it? 

“March!”

The sound of Olric’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Come on over, we’re waiting for you, bro!”

March makes his way towards the back of the inn, seeing that he was the last one to arrive. You’re standing in front of the table, your assortment of tools on the ground beside you. Elise, Hayden, Landen and Valen chat amongst themselves, greeting March when he reaches the table. He takes a seat next to Olric and Elise claps her hands together.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, we can get started! Now, as we all know, Y/N has offered to be our model for tonight. I see you have all your tools with you.”

You nod with a smile. “I figured you guys might ask me to do different poses so I thought I might as well bring some props along.”

“Oh, can you pose with the pickaxe first?” Olric asks. “Like you’re in the mines!”

“Then the ax next.” Landen adds with a grin. 

As everyone continues to give out suggestions, March rests his arm on the table, lost in his thoughts once again. He hated feeling nervous. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, hell he rarely ever felt nervous until you moved into town. But at the same time, March felt excited. He never gave someone a gift that was this special, let alone someone he liked. Yes, liked. He was certain of this now. He liked you. 

“March?” 

He blinks, seeing you wave a hand in front of him. “What?”

“Did you have a suggestion?”

“Uh, no…” He replies, glancing away from you. “Let’s just…get started.”

With that, the group gets to drawing, small conversations popping up here and there. Mainly about your adventures, how you were liking life on the farm, the drawings you brought to show. 

“Oh, Y/N. May I ask you a question?” Valen speaks up.

“Yeah, sure!” You smile, leaning on your pickaxe.

“This drawing here.” She says, pointing at one of the papers on the table. “This is the bracelet you mentioned before, right? The one you lost in the mines earlier this week.”

You take a few steps forward, nodding. “Mhm, that's the one! Actually that was given to me before I set off on my first adventure, a present from someone in my hometown.”

“Oh, was it your lover by any chance?” Elise asks.

March lifts his head slightly at that question as you laugh, waving your hands in front of your face. “No, nothing like that. Just a childhood friend of mine.”

“Childhood friends! That reminds me of one of my romance novels. Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“Here and there. We send each other letters every now and then.”

“Do you ever think about going home?” Landen asks. “You must miss it.”

“I do…” You say. “But, I definitely think Mistria’s a place I can call home now.” Your gaze wanders over to March as you continue, your eyes meeting. “The charm of the town, you all…I guess I just fell in love.”

Valen chuckles, “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure everyone agrees that you’ve become an important part of Mistria now.” She then glances at you and March, posing another question. “That reminds me. Y/N, I had an… acquaintance, we’ll say, ask me what I would give someone if I were to give them a gift. I told them it depended on the person, what do you think?”

You turn your attention to her, thinking for a few seconds. “Well, I do agree that it depends on the person. The gift has to fit their personality or things that they like. But, I do think as long as the gift is meaningful, it still holds value.”

Valen hums in response, smiling as March also turns his gaze towards her. “So…if the gift was homemade and… let’s say from the heart. Would you accept it?”

“I would.” You laugh a bit. “Are we still talking in hypotheticals here? These questions are awfully specific.”

“Of course. I was just curious.”

March lets out a small sigh of relief. He was never telling Valen anything ever again. 

Your conversation continues as you continue posing and switching out your tools. Eventually, everyone finishes their drawings and just like last time you go around the table showing them. 

All of them had little details added here and there, whether it be crops, animals, even rocks. But each of them had their own appeal. And now came March’s drawing.

“March, your turn.” Valen says.

March slides his drawing to the middle of the table then crosses his arms as he mumbles. “I wasn’t finished with it yet… but there you go.”

You all take a look at the drawing. You could definitely tell that he improved, even if you only had a tiny glance at the drawing club’s work when they first started. You notice he drew you while you leaned on your pickaxe, a soft smile on your face. It was heartwarming, and carefully drawn.

You nod smiling. “I really like how you drew the expression here. Soft, warm. You put a lot of practice in, huh?”

March’s face heats up as you stare at him. He avoids your gaze, looking at the ground. “I just had spare time on my hands, that’s all.”

“Well, keep at it. I want to see a complete drawing one day.” You reply. Then you begin packing up your tools, turning your attention to the rest of the group. “This was fun! I’d love to join again next time.”

“You’re always welcome here, Y/N. You’ve made these past two Friday nights very enjoyable.” Valen says. “Are you heading back to the farm now?”

“Yep, early day and all. Good night everyone!”

They all say their goodbyes as you leave the inn and March hurries after you, drawing in hand.

“Y/N, wait a sec.”

You turn as you stand beside Balor’s cart, seeing March jog up to you. “Hey, March. I didn’t forget anything did I?”

“Well, one thing.” He says, handing you his drawing. “You wanted to keep it right?”

“Oh, right!” You take it, tucking it away carefully in your backpack. “You could’ve given it to me tomorrow, but thank you.”

March nods, then he hesitates with his next question. “You’re welcome… uh, can I walk back with you to the farm?”

“Oh, um, sure.” 

You turn on your heel as March follows behind you silently. Within a few minutes you arrive in front of your house.

“Thanks for walking with me, March.” You say with a small smile. “Well, good night.”

“W-wait!”

You freeze as your hand hovers over the door handle and you look at March.

“I…” He averts his gaze as he pulls out a silver bracelet from his apron pocket. “This is for you.”

You stare at the bracelet, watching as the moonlight reflects off of it. The gems on it sparkle and you can see small flowers and leaves carved on it. “Did you make this…?”

“Yeah… I heard about you losing your old one, so I just thought you might like a new one.”

“Oh, so you’re the acquaintance Valen was talking about!” You laugh. “I was wondering why you seemed so interested in the conversation.”

March scoffs slightly. “She just happened to visit the blacksmiths and mentioned it.”

“Uh-huh… you are a bad liar, March.”

“… are you going to take it or not?” He sighs.

“Can you put it on for me?” You ask. 

March freezes for a second but to your surprise he takes your wrist with one hand, and slips the bracelet on with the other. You were joking when you had asked but you didn’t think that March would actually comply.

“Mhm, perfect fit.” March mumbles quietly. He begins fiddling with the bracelet, turning it around your wrist.

“Uh…March?” You speak up. 

He doesn’t respond, though you do see a small smile appear on his face. Then suddenly, he lets go of your wrist, stuffing his hands in his pockets quickly. He clears his throat, “Sorry, I was just… making sure it wouldn’t slip off.”

“It’s okay.” You reply. You chuckle slightly as you smile. “Say, if I made you a matching pair, would you wear it? Ah, but it might get in the way when you work… what about a ring then?”

Then your eyes widen as you quickly realize what you had said.  You laugh nervously, averting your gaze. “I mean, you probably wouldn’t-”

“If it’s from you, I’ll wear it.”

You look at March, the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so you can see the blush that appears on his face.

“W-what?” He asks. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that is all…but if you’ll wear it, I’ll make it.” You reply as you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You smile gently as you hold your arm up, letting the light reflect off of the silver band. “I love it, March. Thank you again. I think this is the best present I’ve gotten in a while.”

March only nods, staring at you quietly. In his mind, he could make this moment better, if he just closed the gap between you two. He could hear his heart beating, loud and fast, almost as if it would jump out of his chest. If he made that move, would you reciprocate? Would things change between you if you didn’t? He was aware of how unfriendly he was at first when you moved into town, but slowly you somehow changed that. You had undeniably charmed him.

His gaze flickers to your lips. If he couldn’t say it in words…actions would do just fine, right? Screw it. March gently takes your wrist and lowers it, his hand slides down to hold yours. Then he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, chaste, and it was over just as quickly as it happened. 

March pulls away, the blush on his face even more apparent now. You’re still trying to process everything, not quite believing what has happened. 

“Um…I guess I’ll see you later.” He mumbles quietly, letting go of your hand.

He was slowly regretting going based off of instinct, but in his mind, it felt like the right thing to do. The perfect thing to do in a moment like that.

March begins to walk away, leaving you standing alone in front of your house. But you call out to him and he turns around, seeing you smile.

“I feel the same way.”

He returns the smile, laughing slightly. He doesn’t say anything, only giving a wave as he walks off. He knew you’d visit him tomorrow to talk. His smile only grows larger as he walks home, a slight bounce in his step. A smile that was carefully depicted in a portrait. A smile that everyone had mentioned never seeing on March. A smile of someone slowly falling in love.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Healing together

Hii, I hope you enjoy this story. Before you begin reading, I want to make something very clear: in no way am I romanticizing mental health problems. I understand how serious these issues are, and my intention is not to glamorize or trivialize them in any way.

My goal with this story is to bring attention to mental health, to encourage understanding and empathy, and to show that these struggles are real and valid.

Lando is tired, tired of everyone being on his business, of dating rumours of him appearing every week, of comparing himself to his colleagues, or even when he is surrounded by people still feeling alone.

That's why his visits to his psychologist have risen these last months, but he feels better after them not only for the medical help he is receiving but because of them Lando feels as if he has found a source of happiness in the less expected place.

Lando walked out of his psychologist’s office, feeling a little lighter than when he’d walked in. The sessions had been tough lately, but he could feel them slowly chipping away at the heaviness weighing on him for so long. Today was no different. He had spoken about his fears, his frustrations, and the intense scrutiny he felt under the constant watch of the media and fans. His psychologist had listened intently, offering guidance and strategies to help him cope. It wasn't an immediate fix, but it helped. As he turned the corner in the narrow hallway leading to the building’s exit, he suddenly collided with someone, almost knocking them over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching out instinctively to steady the person he’d bumped into. His hands brushed against a woman's arm, and he quickly drew back, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” she replied with a soft smile, smoothing out the crease on her sweater. Lando noticed the sparkle in her eyes, the gentle way she carried herself. She was around his age, and there was something about her that made him pause. “I should have been paying more attention,” she continued, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Lando said, smiling back. He felt a strange flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just startled,” she laughed lightly. “I’m here for an appointment,” she added, nodding towards the door Lando had just exited.

Lando recognized her. She had been in the waiting room a few times when he arrived for his sessions. They had exchanged polite nods before, but they had never spoken. There was something about her that intrigued him—a quiet presence that seemed to draw him in, even in the brief moments they shared in passing.

“Same here. I mean, I was just here for one,” Lando responded, feeling a bit awkward but curious about her. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself, offering his hand with a friendly grin.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, shaking his hand.

Lando nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement in his chest. "Nice to officially meet you, Y/N."

From that day on, their encounters in the waiting room became a highlight of Lando's visits. They started talking more, sharing little bits about their lives. He learned that Y/N was an artist, her world filled with colours and canvases, while she learned about his passion for racing and his struggles with the spotlight. He found solace in their conversations, a break from the chaos of his life.

Between visits, Lando found himself thinking about Y/N more and more. Her laugh, her kindness, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. She was different from anyone he had ever met, and he found himself looking forward to their brief moments together, the connection they shared growing stronger with each passing day.

One day, after a particularly challenging race weekend, Lando walked into the psychologist's office, his thoughts swirling with frustration and disappointment. But as soon as he saw Y/N sitting there, his mood lifted. She was sketching something in her notebook, her focus intense.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, sliding into the seat next to her.

Y/N looked up, her face brightening when she saw him. "Hey, Lando. How did the race go?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not great, honestly. But seeing you here makes it a bit better." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N blushed slightly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks. I'm glad I can help, even if it's just a little."

Over the next few weeks, Lando's feelings for Y/N grew. He admired her strength, her resilience, and the way she approached life with a quiet courage that inspired him. And as he got to know her better, he realized he wanted to be more than just a friend to her.

It was after a particularly good race that Lando finally decided to take a leap. He had won, and the high of victory was still coursing through his veins as he walked into the psychologist's office, hoping to see Y/N.

To his delight, she was there, sitting in her usual spot, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Hey, Lando! I heard about the race. Congratulations!" she said, her excitement genuine.

"Thanks, Y/N," Lando said, his heart racing as he gathered the courage to say what he'd been thinking about for weeks. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Y/N's smile faltered slightly, her eyes flickering with a hint of apprehension. "Oh? What is it?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. This was it—the moment he had been building up to ever since he first met her. "I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and for a long, agonizing moment, she was silent. Lando's stomach twisted, anxiety gnawing at him as he wondered if he had misread all the signs. Had he pushed too far, too fast?

Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, I… I really like you, but…"

"But what?" he asked gently, his brow furrowing in concern. Her hesitation made his heart clench, his mind racing through every possible reason she might be pulling away.

Y/N looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously twisting together. Her eyes were shadowed with fear, a fear she had tried so hard to keep hidden. "I come here because… I'm scared of falling in love. I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to get my heart broken again. I… I didn’t expect to feel this way about anyone, especially not you."

Her confession hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of her past. Lando’s chest tightened, his heart aching for her. He could see how much it cost her to say those words, to admit to the pain that still lingered in her heart.

Lando reached out, his fingers gently brushing against hers before he took her hand, holding it tenderly in his. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "I know how it feels to be scared, to worry that opening up will just lead to more hurt. But I promise you, I would never intentionally hurt you. If you give me a chance, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never feel that way again."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears she was trying so hard to hold back. There was a wariness in her gaze, a deep-seated fear of letting herself believe in the possibility of something good, something real. "You really mean that?"

"I do," Lando replied earnestly, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. "I like you a lot, Y/N. More than I thought possible. And I think we could be great together. But I don’t want to rush you or push you into anything you’re not ready for."

Y/N's breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted to believe him, to trust in his words and in the warmth she felt whenever he was near. But the scars of her past were still fresh, the fear of falling only to be caught by nothing but empty air still too real. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat as she tried to find the courage to let herself take this leap. Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between the desire to protect herself and the yearning to let herself hope again. As she looked into Lando's eyes, she saw the sincerity there, the raw, unguarded emotion that he had laid bare for her.

And despite the fear, despite the voice in her head screaming at her to pull back, to protect herself, she felt a spark of something else—a small, fragile spark of courage. A tiny flame of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be something different. Something worth risking her heart for.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision. She squeezed his hand, holding on to him as if he were the lifeline she needed. "I'll give it a go. But please… be patient with me. I’m scared, Lando. Really scared."

Lando's face softened, his expression one of tender understanding. "I promise, Y/N. I’ll be here, every step of the way. We’ll take it slow, as slow as you need. One step at a time, okay?"

Y/N nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe she didn’t have to face her fears alone. "One step at a time."

And as they sat there, hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, they both felt a surge of something new—something that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. It wasn’t just about the promise of a date or the thrill of new romance; it was about finding comfort and courage in each other, about taking a chance on something that might just heal the wounds they both carried.

Together, they were ready to face whatever came next, one tentative, hopeful step at a time.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

[buckets-and-trees]

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.  

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

READ THE NEXT PART: THE SILENCE OF THE HUSHED SUBLIME read more of the Cedar Trees AU

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[delirious-donna]

Coffee And A Smoke [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: another suggestion for Hiromi that I couldn’t pass up. I feel like this has potential for more but I’d really have to do some plotting and brain crunching before I could commit.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: smoking (is it obvious from this that I don’t smoke and never have? I hope not but…), SFW, very light flirting if you squint, mention of toxic habits, alcohol mention

Masterlist

Higuruma always felt a pang of sympathy for new starts. They had a habit of reminding him of his earliest days as a freshly qualified lawyer, his excitement to change the world and be the type not to back away from the difficult fights.

For a while, he had been that man and took on David and Goliath level cases to test his resolve, to prove that a person with enough determination and hard work could be the victor. Sadly, it didn’t last long.

He hoped you wouldn’t fall from grace quite so quickly or inelegantly as he had once done. Hiromi might not care for his reputation being tarnished these days, the dross he was tossed like it was a kindness to him, but he would never wish it upon anyone else.

You appeared only a handful of years younger than he was, and he wondered if you were maybe late to the career. It made him wonder how bad your previous line of work might have been to make you consider this circle of hell as your new livelihood. There was more than a chance that he would never know, he didn’t exactly draw people to him in the workplace. Rather he was looked upon mostly like a kicked puppy that everyone felt sorry for but never approached to comfort for fear of catching fleas.

Picking up his pen, the chewed end finding its home between his teeth, Hiromi returned to his work and put you out of his mind.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the man over in the far corner?” You wondered aloud, the young secretary designated to be your ‘day one buddy’ glanced in the direction you were looking and visibly grimaced.

“Another day. He’s busy,” she countered with a wave of her hand.

Frowning at her dismissive tone and attitude, you looked over again and met with tired, hangdog eyes. He blinked, seeming unperturbed and gave a small bow of his head before turning back to his screen. There was something about this man, you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out, but something intrigued you more than it should.

The interaction did not go unnoticed. “That’s Higuruma Hiromi. He’s rather… particular about the cases he takes. Generally, he keeps to himself.”

You wondered if he was lonely, or maybe not well versed in socialising. Whatever it was, there was an aura surrounding his corner of the large office, like a perpetual rain cloud that threatened to rain but the cloud never burst.

With so much to learn and an entire new work environment to navigate, you quickly forgot all about the mysterious Higuruma and focused on finding your feet.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later did you find yourself in his presence. After a tortuous phone call with a troublesome client, you found yourself in desperate need to indulge in the bad habit you had sworn you’d given up, a cigarette.

Stepping outside into the small office courtyard, you fumbled for the emergency packet buried in the depths of your bag. You cursed when you realised you might have the actual cigarette you craved, but there wasn’t a lighter in sight, not even tucked away in one of the handy dandy compartments.

“Need a light?”

You whirled around and nearly landed on your behind at the sudden voice, coming face to face with Higuruma who had the good grace to look sheepish for scaring you out of your skin.

“It seems so,” you said with a shrug, stepping closer as the man held out his lighter and flicked the flame into life for you. “I don’t smoke often.”

Higuruma hummed in understanding, glancing down at his own half-finished cigarette, tapping away the excess ash. “I’d like to say the same, but I’m out here more often than I’d like.”

That first inhale felt like heaven, the heat in your throat a familiar sensation and you held the thick smoke in your mouth as long as you could manage, finally blowing it out in a steady stream into the sky.

“Bad habit?” You asked, leaning against the metal railing that enclosed the small courtyard space. It was cool even through your trousers, grounding you back into the here and now.

“I have a lot of those, smoking is probably the least bothersome. I can go days without a single cigarette, or I could smoke two packets within a single office day. There never seems to be an in between,” he joked.

It was hard not to appraise him whilst you both stood there, enjoying your respective cigarettes. His shirt wasn’t quite the brilliant white of a new or well cared for garment, nor were the tailored creases in his trousers especially neat or crisp. The tie around his throat was loose as if restless fingers had tugged it that way, and his hair was equally as ruffled. Yet, there was still something undefinable that made you smile at these observations, that endeared him to you.

His eyes were adorned with dark circles from sleepless nights but there was a subtly vibrancy to those eyes. The brown irises with golden flecked in the right light and the smattering of laughter lines at the corners assured you that this was a man who liked to laugh, even if you were yet to hear it in the workplace.

He wore an equally tired smile, however, it brightened when you addressed him directly and you wondered if he thought hi would ignore his presence. If that was maybe what he was used to, and that thought didn’t sit well with you.

“Oh yeah? Let me guess… you enjoy a bottle of wine on most nights?”

“Or two,” he countered, making you laugh.

Honestly, you couldn’t understand why he was considered the black sheep of the firm. From everything you had seen and heard, he wasn’t the money grabbing type and maybe that was the reason for him being a pariah, but that wasn’t a reason to brush him off or avoid him outright.

“Y’know… people will talk if they see you chatting with me.” Higuruma crossed an arm over his chest, a defensive gesture if ever you saw one.

You hummed in thought. Not that you really cared what people had to say about you. “I think I can make my own decisions on who I should and should not speak with. Are you always this cautious?”

“Some might say I have no caution at all.”

“Then why are you trying to warn me off?”

Higuruma’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, a plume of smoke emitted from between his pursed lips to momentarily obscure his face. “Didn’t realise I was under cross-examination. You’ll go far,” he mused before crushing out the remnants of his smoke and bringing out a packet of mints from his pocket.

“I don’t know about that… this career isn’t exactly what I anticipated.”

He waited, sensing there was more you wanted to share, and he had no desire to scare you away or shut you down prematurely. You couldn’t put your finger on the reason why you wanted to confide in him, perhaps you felt some kind of kindred spirit in him but that would be foolish having known him all of five minutes.

“Higuruma, do you fancy a coffee? My treat,” you offered in a rush. Embarrassed by how nervous you were to ask at your big age, and more so worried that he would refuse you flat out.

“I’d like that, but there is something I’d like much more.”

You held your breath, not knowing what he could possibly wish for more. He chuckled at your look of concern, stepping forward to offer you a mint from his pack.

“I’d really like to know your name.”