#Tangled Crew Appreciation Week

[maylalupa]

If you asked me, all credit should go to Shane Prigmore instead of Chris manchild Sonneburg.

Tangled Crew Appreciation Week: Shane Prigmore

Not enough is said about this unsung hero of Tangled: the Series. Shane Prigmore was there at the beginning, helping to design and develop this story, turning these empty three years “between the kisses” into a story that even Roy Conli could approve of. 

And then Shane was promoted to Vice President of Creative Affairs for Walt Disney Television Animation, which is why we actually don’t hear about him in conjunction with TTS. He is credited as creator, developer and writer for Tangled: Before Ever After and Tangled: the Series.

I had the honor to randomly run into him at D23 Expo, and I can say that he is friendly, humble, warm and open. And when @forever-tangledup and I were able to give him a Tangled Fandom Resurrection button, he was extremely delighted and grateful to receive it.

As well as being a writer, Shane is an incredible artist who has worked both as a character designer and animator, working on such titles as How to Train Your Dragon, Rise of the Guardians, The LEGO Movie, and Coraline, among many others.

[fanaticsnail]

As far as I know, you're not a big Zoro girlie, but imagine, if you will:

Relaxing with Zoro in his hammock. You're both facing each other, legs tangled together as you're both occupied with your own little activities. It's quiet and peaceful;relaxing, even.

Breaking the silence and asking him a question, only to look up and see your favorite moss-head fast asleep. Allowing yourself to relax and drif off yourself, book still resting on your chest.

Not waking up until late in the evening, when Sanji's yell of "Dinner!" sends you both tumbling out of the hammock and into a heap on the floor.

-♡♡

Hey Anon. Your ask ran away with me and I had to see how some softness would play out. While Zoro is not one of my main blorbos, I do appreciate this marimo. Had to give him some appreciation with a drabble for you.

I Don't Sound Like That

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: You and Zoro have grown closer over the past few weeks. Being invited to rest and study beside him in his hammock, you reflect on your journey travelling with your crew aboard the Going Merry.

Themes: Zoro x gn!reader, Fluff, teasing, tiredness, mention of injury (Zoro), kisses.

Notes: Had this request sitting in my asks for a day, and I needed this bad enough that it pushed my other thoughts aside.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @indydonuts @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @i-am-vita

Lounging lazily within the hammock and entangled within a burly mess of limbs, your bodies rocked to the sway of the waves crashing against the hull of the Going Merry. The gentle rise and fall of the swell surrounding your vessel shepherding into your next adventure had you soothed from your restless day. Flipping through the pages in your book, you sigh softly and enjoy the warmth from Zoro’s encumbering embrace as he rested in his hammock beneath you. 

The reason you sought out the First-Mate to your Captain, Luffy, was not only because you felt protected under his care above Usopp, Nami, Luffy or Sanji, nor was it due to the fact that he wouldn’t likely tell you “no,” should you ask to enjoy an embrace with him. 

The reason you fell into his hammock and joined yourself in his resting space is because you had grown closer over these past few weeks. He was still healing from the large gash and soft stab in his chest from the legendary warlord, Dracule Mihawk. Fighting the Arlong-Pirates while in such a state did a number on his body, and he would constantly fall by your side and sleep within your shadow. 

He was comfortable with you enough to let you know how truly much he was struggling with his injuries. You were ships counselor, it was your job to be privy to the thoughts of your captain and crew - aiding them in their journey of reflective self-discovery. Luffy needed guidance as your captain, and as his counselor; you were ready and willing to provide that to him. 

While Zoro confided in you that his injuries truly ached, you offered to be by his side in his hammock to give him some pressure and warmth from your body to his. It was in the 'name of healing', you informed him, 'no funny business'.

As the ship waded through a particularly large swell, the hammock shook you from your thoughts and had you look up to notice Zoro had risen from his soft slumber. He was looking at your face through furrowed brows, attempting to get a read on your thoughts with an elevated brow. 

“Something on your mind, Counsellor?” he smirked, the corner of his lips ticking up as he looked down at you on your position on his chest. You anchor your chin over his heart, watching as he winces under your face. Noticing his soft wince, you mutter out a soft “sorry,” and readjust your position to not hit any of his injuries. 

Gazing up into his eyes, you look at him through narrowed eyelids and fluttering lashes. 

“Just thinking about how we all got here, is all, Swordsman,” you murmur in response. Zoro’s hazelnut eyes stare down at you, his expression softening as he witnesses your soft confession. He gently reaches his hand down and takes your cheek in the palm of his hand. Running his thumb over the apple of your cheek, his expression softens further. 

“Oh?” he murmured with a soft swell at the end of his question, “Regretting joining us already, hm?”

"Not at all," you laugh through your nose, rolling your eyes at his teasing tone. “You regret begging me to come with you at Syrup-Village?” He huffed a small shocked laugh at your tone, shaking his head slightly at your question.

“Begging?” he scoffed in return, drawing you closer to his face by your chin and jaw, “The way I remember it,” he moved his hand to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair and smiling softly, “You were the one who said ‘Oh, big, burly swordsman. I need you so badly. Take me in your strong arms and usher me into a life of adventure at sea’.” You scoffed, hitting him on the chest playfully and earning a soft grunt in response to the small smack. 

“I don’t sound like that, and I never said those things,” you scrunch your nose up at him, “You were the one that said: ‘Luffy. You need guidance, and I’m not smart enough to give you the help you desperately need. We need someone way smarter than I could ever dream of being,” that comment had a small chuckle rise in his throat.

You continued to deepen your voice, openly mocking him with joy, “We need to get you a counsellor, and someone I can bare my soul to when I keep watch alone at night. The sea gets so lonely, and I need someone in my arms at all times. I am a sucker for comfort, and I need to cradle something into my stocky, broad chest after I get lost- mmfhph!” 

Zoro cut you off by joining his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and tasted of salt from the sea, and slightly sweet from the hard sake he drank earlier. Your eyes were wide and staring at his fluttering eyelashes. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he breathed in a sharp inhale through his nose, his lips parting to deepen the soft oscillation. He groaned at the feeling of you opening yourself up to him, enjoying the soft kiss he was pressing against you.

This was not something you had anticipated on receiving from the swordsman, particularly because you were yet to formally begin anything together. You shared embraces, sure. The odd sparring session, certainly. Using your body to sit on his back while he did pushups, or sit on his feet to hold them steady while he curled his stomach in a flurry of sit-ups, absolutely. But kisses? Not something you expected. 

After breaking the soft kiss, he cradled your chin in his hand and thumbed over your bottom lip affectionately, uttering a simple, “You talk too much,” before scolding you, touching his forehead to yours, “And I don’t sound like that.” 

You shook your head at him, placing your book face down and open on his chest beneath you, rubbing the tip of your nose against his affectionately. 

“That may be true,” you utter softly, “But you don’t deny you said half of those things I said.” He chuckled, removing his forehead from yours and giving it a soft shake. You laughed alongside him, scrunching your nose and looking at the mossy-haired swordsman cradling you in his arms with soft adoration. A flutter ignited in your chest as he pressed a soft kiss against your temple. 

“Get back to your reading, Counsellor,” he murmured, giving you a soft nudge and rolling you off his chest and onto your back beside him. He laced his arm over your side, handing you back your book that was once on his chest, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder. “Let me know if you read something interesting enough to bother me with it.” 

Your mind was racing, knowing that he desired to leave the soft kiss at just that for now -  not desiring to dive into a flurry of: ‘what does that mean, what does that make us, how are we going to go about everything as if we didn’t just share a kiss’. You gulped back your racing thoughts and reopened your world discovery novel, choosing to ignore the tingle of his breath igniting your skin with gooseflesh. 

You do as you’re told, enjoying the warmth he was giving to you behind your body within the hammock. As you read further, you found something interesting regarding the metal and make of sword wielders in a distant land on the other side of the world. You turn in his arms, attempting to look at him over your shoulder as you ask him your question.

“Zoro?” you whisper softly, “Zoro, do you know anything about a country called ‘Wano’?” You turn to face him in his arms, noticing the heavy rise and fall of his broad chest before anything else. You gaze up into his face, his brow relaxed and his eyes clamped shut enough to indicate heavy sleep. 

Taking a moment to study his face, you allow yourself the luxury of giving in to the warmth in your face and simmered fluttering in your chest. These past few weeks of getting to know him further, and the soft kiss he placed against your lips and shoulder moments ago, had your mind running away with you. Taking a moment to appreciate his proximity, you realize there was truly nothing that could tear you away from this moment. 

Closing your book shut, you enjoy nuzzling into his chest and you press a soft kiss against the indent of Mihawk’s stab-wound over the swordsman’s heart. Eyes fluttering shut, you are ushered into a soft and blissful slumber within the cage of his body holding yours firmly against it. It does not take long until your breathing synchronizes, your dreams of what's to come on this next adventure a distant thought…

…Until the loud alert of your blonde chef wakes you from your slumber, his voice yelling a booming, “Dinner, moss-head! Get your idiot-ass down here and eat! Also, has anyone seen the Counsellor?” 

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 4

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: You and Shanks drink, and Benn assures you that they're fine with you joining the crew

Warnings: Some darker thoughts from Reader. Abuse and slavery

Doll Masterlist

The port that you met Shanks in isn’t very big, but there are enough shops around to keep the two of you entertained until the ship is ready for departure. After breakfast, you had waved goodbye to the waitress, and then the two of you were back out in the streets. Shanks kept you close, his hand tangled with your own as he pointed out what shops were for what. You knew most of what he was talking about. You weren't so sheltered that you couldn't recognize what's what, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You quietly admitted that whatever money you'd been able to take from Sabaody had run out earlier in the week before Shanks had arrived. The redhead had waved your concerns away and assured you that now that you were part of the crew that you'd have an “allowance” for lack of a better word. Not to mention whatever cut you were given when they found any kind of treasure. They were pirates after all.

Shanks led you back to the bar where Benn and Yasopp were found at the bar, a drink in hand already, and it wasn't even noon yet. You eye them and then your captain when he orders a tankard of rum, brow cocked when he lifted it to his lips and drained a portion of it. You couldn't help but watch the way his throat worked and blushed when he caught you staring.

The redhead winked, and you huffed, “Do you always drink this early?”

Shanks shrugged a shoulder, lips turned up in a what can you do smile, “What else is there to do but drink and have a good time while we wait?”

You considered his words. The pirate wasn't wrong. It wasn't like you'd been doing much while you waited around on the island. You'd been convinced that you would have just wasted away in that corner, or eventually caught by the World Government and dragged back to Marie Geois. You sighed and then shrugged.

“Get me an ale?”

Shanks grinned and pulled out a chair for you, gesturing for you to sit with Benn and Yasopp, “Anything for you, doll.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics and watch him lope over to the bar. While he is gone, Benn eyes the newest member of their crew, looking her over as he sips from his bottle. He doesn't mind that Shanks had brought you on, but he can only hope that you know what you're doing.

The Red-Haired Pirates weren't for the faint of heart. Benn has seen and done things that would make any normal man sick. You needed to understand that while they were carefree and accepting of her new position, they were also one of the strongest crews on the Grand Line. They are a ruthless group of pirates that took what they wanted when they wanted. Other crews had tried to take their spot and were left smoking ruins to sink into the sea. Would you be able to handle that?

“You don't mind that I'm coming with you, right?”

Her voice pushed Benn from his thoughts, and he and Yasopp focused on you. You look a bit nervous now that you've spoken up, but he can see the determined set of your shoulders.

“Even if we had protested, telling Shanks no is like telling the wind to stop blowing,” Benn grumbles and reaches for the pack of cigarettes that sits in his front pocket. He strikes a match and inhales deeply, “But no. We don't have a problem with it.”

His assurance seems to make you relax. He watches you slump back in your chair, a relieved look on your face at their easy acceptance of your presence. It makes Benn wonder what the Celestial Dragons had put you through and finds that whatever answer you would eventually give them would make him hate the bastards even more.

All your life, you've striven to have even a crumb of what these men give out for free. This easy comradery that you can see in each member of the crew. It infuriates you to an extent that you've never been able to have this, but knowing you have it now, that you can grow and thrive under these men, makes that rage cool into a warm simmer.

“Not giving _ too hard of a time, right?” Shanks interrupts as he plonks your drink in front of you and sits to your right. He eyes his first and second mate suspiciously. He'd explained your request to them last night after you'd gone to bed, and they had their concerns, but they were overall fine with you coming on board. It mostly stimmed from the fact that you came from Marie Geois, and the less the Red-Haired Pirates had to do with them, the better.

“We know better than that, Shanks. That's your department,” Yasopp snarked, and the three of you snickered at the captain's expense.

Shanks pouted, lips pursed, but you could tell that he didn’t really mind the teasing. He cut his eyes at you, giving you a pitiful look, “See what I have to deal with, Doll?”

You snicker and take a sip of your ale. The feeling of being able to fully relax is still foreign to you. Back in Marie Geois, getting caught even speaking to another slave could end in punishment. The household that had owned you were very strict in their rules and strived for perfection, and that included the people that they owned. You found it hard to be around the pirates and free people sometimes, fearful that his was all a dream and you would wake up, stuck inside your tiny closet room until your masters called for you.

A warm hand on your thigh makes you jump. You flick your eyes down to see that your captain’s hand spred wide, his thumb dragging soothing circles against your covered flesh even as he banters back and forth with his crew mates. It makes your heart beat a little faster, knowing that Shanks had noticed the drop in your mood so easily.

Should it make you uncomfortable how quickly the redhead seemed to read you? Maybe, but you couldn’t find the strength to care very much about it. The feeling of having someone like Shanks looking out for you was heady and one that you wouldn’t give up without a fight. Knowing how strong the redhead is was one of the biggest reasons that you had asked him for help in the first place. The slave rumor mill was a wide and varied one. You’ve always been a better listener than a rambler in the first place.

Still staring at his hand, it makes you think about his words back in the bakery. Shanks had told the waitress that he was taken and hadn’t told you otherwise afterward, only that he’d wanted the other woman to leave the two of you alone. Would someone like your captain even want someone as messed up as you? As scared and branded? The thought makes you frown, so you try your best to shove it down and focus on the conversation flowing around you.

Shanks eyes the woman beside him. He had practically felt your dark thoughts permeating the air around you, but it seemed like his touch had swiftly brought you out of them. He wished he could tell what you were thinking. If you liked him touching you, because Shanks doesn’t want to stop. He wants to touch you all the time, even if it’s something as small as holding your hand. Shanks wanted to push your limits to see how far you would let him go.

But he also didn't want to make you uncomfortable, to make it seem like now that just because you were a part of his crew that he had some kind of ownership over you. The thought made his stomach churn in disgust. Shanks didn't want you to think he was anything like the people you escaped from. He wanted to be your savior, the man that you could depend on for anything. He couldn't do that if you didn't trust him.

So Shanks would be patient. He would get to know you for you, let whatever mutual attraction the two of you had for one another bloom naturally. Allow you to set whatever pace you deemed fit, and be happy that you wanted his attention in the first place.

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (AU Joel Miller x Female Reader) Episode 3: The Moreno Family

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: Joel and Reader go on a date!

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, cameos galore, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction, f masturbation, heavy petting (I guess?)

A/N: Extreme weather and a resulting internet outage kept me from posting this earlier today, but it gave me time to make sure that it’s just how I want.  I hope you enjoy!  Reader is divorced and in her late 30s but is otherwise a blank slate.  Big thank you to @wheresarizona​ and @just-here-for-the-moment​ for the help!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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Just a little more…

You like that?

So good for me…

Let me hear you…

You wake up with a gasp, sweaty and tangled in your sheets, the heel of your right hand pressed against your center.  You are on the verge of coming from the hottest, filthiest sex dream you’ve ever had… starring one Joel Miller.  You debate what to do about the throbbing between your legs.  Take care of it or hope it goes away?  Your hips grind against your hand of their own accord, your body apparently deciding for you.

Relaxing your legs, you begin circling your clit.  It doesn’t take long until you’re throwing your head back as your pussy pulses around nothing.

“What the fuck?” you pant, lying limp on the bed after.  Joel’s confession seems to have flipped a switch inside you.  It has been an interesting couple of days, to say the least.  A part of you that has lain dormant for a long time has suddenly come back to life.

If your body lights up at just the memory of him kissing your hand, what will it do when he kisses your mouth? Or lower?  You whimper into your pillow as heat pools in your belly once again.

He asked you to take your time to make sure you were ready and you’ve been thinking of little else since that conversation.  On paper, it feels fast.  Your divorce is only a few months old.  But, in reality, your marriage was over long before.

You have lived enough life to know you can trust your gut.  You appreciate that he gave you time, but you know what you want.

You glance at your alarm clock.  You’re due on set in an hour, just enough time for a much needed cold shower before you head out.

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

You can hear the voiceover in your head as you watch the B-roll the crew shot last week…

When single dad, Marcus, and his daughter, Missy, aren’t busy with work and school, they love watching movies and cooking dinner together.  Marcus seemingly does it all… but he could use some help on his DIY project.

On the screen, Marcus and Missy throw a frisbee and set the table.  Marcus looks over Missy’s shoulder while she does homework, and she snuggles next to him on the couch.

These two are perfect for Construction Corner.

Their project isn’t a big one – a pretty standard bathroom remodel gone awry – which means the shooting schedule is packed into just two days, with another Austin shoot scheduled for the rest of the week.

Hopefully Marcus is ready for the fan mail that’s about to come his way… there is going to be A LOT of it.  An attractive single dad is HGTV catnip.  God knows Joel gets an astronomical amount.  At first, the network sent it to him, but he quickly asked that they stop.  He just couldn’t handle that much attention.

You wonder what he would think of what you did this morning… waking up to thoughts of him and getting yourself off.  Embarrassment heats your skin, and you fan yourself with your notebook to cool down.  Then another thought occurs to you… what if he liked the idea?  That has you fanning yourself even more.

“Hey, lady!” Your dirty thoughts are interrupted by a friendly voice nearby.

“Marlene! Hi! I didn’t know you were visiting today.”  You wrap your friend up in a big hug.  One of the best parts about shoot days in Austin were that friends often came to set to visit.  Marlene works for the local PBS station that first aired Construction Corner.  Since the show moved to HGTV, you haven’t seen nearly as much of her.

“I thought we would stop by to say hello.” Just then, Marlene’s adopted daughter, Ellie, a precocious 8-year-old, spies Joel near the craft services table.

“Jooooooeeeellll!” She squeals as she runs over to him and leaps into his arms.

“Hello, darlin’,” he laughs as he gives her a hug. “You got a joke for me?”

“Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?” she asks seriously.

“I dunno, why did the monkey fall out of the tree?” he replies, just as seriously.

“Cuz it was dead,” Ellie replies dryly.

“Ellie!” Joel barks out a surprised laugh.  “What’s your mama lettin’ you watch?”  He looks over to Marlene, who smiles and shrugs.  “Want to go look at the tools?”  Ellie nods enthusiastically, and the two of them set off together, but not before Joel looks back at you and winks.

“What was that?” Marlene turns to you in confusion.

“Oh… well…”

“Spill.”

“It’s just that… we might… start seeing each other,” you mumble.

“Lady! That’s great!” She pulls you into another hug.

“You think so?  It’s all very new.”

“Of course, I think so! You deserve the very best, and Joel is one of the best men I know.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.  It’s a little weird, with work and all… but I really want to,” you admit with a whine.

“It’s not like either of you actually works for the other.  Go for it!”

“I think I will,” you smile to yourself.  Joel and Ellie are making their way back to you.  Ellie is chattering excitedly about something while Joel nods along.

“Well, we’d better take off,” Marlene takes Ellie’s hand.  “It was great to see you both!”

After another round of hugs and whispered promises to tell her everything, Marlene and Ellie make their way back to their car, leaving you and Joel standing together for the first time since your hotel room last week.

“Hi,” he ventures, tentatively.

“Hi,” you reply, biting your lip. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week.”

“Is that right?” the low rasp of his voice sends a swoop of pleasure to your belly.

“I think I’d like to go on that date you offered.”

Joel’s eyes crinkle as he breaks into a slow grin.  “How about tomorrow?  I’ll pick you up at 7.”

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

“What we’re gonna do next is caulk around the new countertop,” Joel explains to Marcus and Missy as you listen over the monitor.  “I’m gonna show you a trick to make sure it’s nice and neat, not like what was in here before.”  Marcus looks sheepish.  “It’s ok, it’s trickier than it looks.  The pros do this all day and make it look easy.  But we’re gonna use tape.”  Joel holds up a roll of blue painter's tape and then starts lining it up carefully on either side of where the caulk line will be.

He hands two rolls of tape to Marcus and Missy and lets them do the rest.  Once they’ve finished, he continues, “You’ll lay your line of caulk, smooth it with your finger, then remove the tape and have a straight and even line. Ready?” Joel hands the caulk gun to Marcus.

Marcus takes it from him solemnly and does as Joel explained.  Joel nods his approval as Marcus pulls off the tape, leaving a perfectly caulked vanity.

“See how nice that looks?  Don’t be a hero.  Use the tape,” Joel says, patting Marcus on the back.

“Hear that, Dad?” Missy interjects.

“I heard him,” Marcus laughs and hip-checks his daughter.  Joel smiles at them proudly, another job complete.

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

You open your door to a very handsome man.

Joel has cleaned up since the shoot this afternoon.  He replaced his worn work jeans with dark, crisp ones that hug his hips.  Instead of a t-shirt, he wears a button-down with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up.  His hair is stylishly mussed.  Knowing him, it probably just does that on its own.

His warm brown eyes skate up your body, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply, shy under his gaze.  You opted for a sundress since the fall evening was still rather warm, the fabric brushing softly over your skin.

Joel reaches for your hand and leads you to his truck, opening the door for you to climb in.  He circles the front and gets in his door as you settle yourself in the seat.

“I made us a reservation at Fonda San Miguel, if that’s alright?”

“Joel, that’s my favorite restaurant!  It sounds wonderful.” You reach over and squeeze his arm.  He smiles happily as he puts the truck into gear.

“Thought I remembered somethin’ like that,” he says casually as he turns out of your parking lot, and your heart squeezes.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and lively conversation.  Fonda San Miguel’s eclectic backdrop is perfect for a relaxed yet special first date.

You and Joel know each other well, so there isn’t the awkwardness of most first dates, but there’s still a lot you don’t know about each other’s histories.

Over bacon wrapped shrimp with jalapeño and cheese, you fill him in on your marriage and divorce, how you’ve realized that you’ve been lonely for a long time.

While digging into Cochinita Pibil, he tells you how he had never dreamed that he would be able to provide a college education for Sarah, how his dreams are so much bigger now, how he wants to do good in the world.

Between bites of a shared Tres Leches Cake, you agree that this feels right and exciting.  Your eyes lock over the table.

On the drive back to your apartment, words begin to fail as anticipation builds between you.

Joel gets out of the truck first and opens your door.  He holds your hand as you lower yourself out of the cab.

You’ve barely touched tonight – only chaste hands over the table – but now your body is just inches away from his, and you sway towards him.  He moves his hand to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he rasps with an edge of desperation.

You nod eagerly, and he closes the short distance between you.  His plush lips brush gently against yours – exploring, tasting.  He cradles your jaw in his strong hands as he delves into your mouth, urging you to open for him.  You grasp his hips to hold yourself steady.

The heat of his body warms you through your thin sundress and you can’t get enough.  Your hands roam over his muscled back and down his firm biceps.  His mouth on yours is warm… soft… insistent.  After an eternity, and far too soon, he breaks the kiss.

“Would you like to come inside for a drink?” you blurt out and he nods at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You lead him into your apartment and into the tiny kitchen.  The door has barely closed behind him when he spins you up against the counter and dives back into your mouth.  His hands roam more freely this time, digging into your hip bones and sliding up your ribs, nudging at the swell of your breasts.

You press into his front and are rewarded with the hard line of his erection against your stomach.  You moan and grind into him even more.

“You’re gonna kill me with the sounds you make, sweetheart,” Joel growls, nipping at your neck, hands moving lower over your ass.  With a hand under each thigh, he hoists you up onto the counter.  Your knees frame his slim hips.  You pull him towards you with your heels, craving friction against your center.

His hands dip under the hem of your skirt.  They skate up your bare thighs until his thumbs brush the edge of your underwear – calloused fingertips on silky skin.

“Please, Joel,” you beg between wet, desperate kisses.  He complies and slips his thumb under, cursing raggedly when he finds your slippery folds.

You rock your hips into his hand as he kisses down your neck and across your collarbone all the while circling your clit.  You come undone with a gasp of his name and slump against his chest.

Joel holds you firmly against him as he drags his mouth across your temple, your forehead, and finally back to your lips for slow, languid kisses as your breathing evens out.

“I should go,” he rumbles against your mouth.

“But… no... what about you?” you look up at him in hazy confusion.

“I’ll be ok,” he assures you before dragging his thumb down your cheek and pulling at your lower lip.  “It’s getting late… and I want to take my time with you.”  A shiver runs up your spine at the promise in his words.

“Don’t go, please,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Sweetheart, I know, I’m sorry,” he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, “but we have to be on set so early tomorrow.  We don’t have time tonight for what I have planned for you.”  He pulls back and lifts your chin to look you in the eye.  “I promise, I’ll make it worth the wait.”

You whimper and his eyes flash with want.  But he’s a patient man – a man who does things the right way – so, he helps you down from the counter and kisses you deeply at the door one last time before heading out into the night.

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

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A/N: for anyone not familiar, this episode’s cameo is from the movie “We Can Be Heroes”

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[grimmmviewing]

S1E22: “Woman in Black”—C+ (Watched 7/26/24)

Odd as it might be, I’ve always had this vague fascination with synopses of TV episodes, especially finales—something about the way they reduce so many minutes to several lines of bullet-point-worthy moments and particularly the special energy of the final moment of a given episode. The “worthiness” of it, in a sense.

Reduced to a summary like that, I think “Woman in Black” has exactly the vibe you want in a season finale for a show like Grimm. With regard to my weird interest, it has a satisfying amount of action and a number of callbacks to previous episodes, and it ends on an appropriately climactic revelation—that the titular Woman we’ve been seeing throughout the episode is actually Nick’s mother that he/we thought was dead. (In retrospect, I knew she wasn’t dead but had just forgotten over the years.)

The assumed dead parent actually being alive isn’t just a fine-enough reveal that any show could have ended on, though. It also works well for Grimm specifically as a bookend to a season that began with family as a focus, with Nick losing his aunt Marie, the closest thing to a parent he thought he had. To end with the (re)introduction of his mother makes a lot of narrative and/or “artistic” sense. I was hoping that they’d re-use “Sweet Dreams” as well to circle back to the start of the season, but I suspected that wouldn’t actually happen. What is here is definitely… fine, engaging enough for what it is.

The big downside of an episode as stuffed as this one is, though, is that there’s not much to chew on, in stark contrast with the previous few episodes. Maybe that actually qualifies as justification of a sort—“Big Feet” can be a bit more interesting and creative and thoughtful, while the finale goes hard on action and pure, straightforward dramatic beats, which include a somewhat extensive brawl at the end between Nick and the last of the “Three Coins in a Fuchsbau” crew involved in the deaths of his family. I thought it was much better than the Nick-Adalind fight in “Love Sick,” though Nick’s vague Grimm abilities that I guess let him tangle with a trained fighter like this Akira Kimura remain a point of frustration for me. I’m not a Power Level-obsessed person, but exactly what Nick is capable of (or, more critically, what his limit is) is something that could have been more clearly established. I’m going to argue that that sort of definition and growth is part of the appeal of a show like this, though obviously there’s no predefined suite of “powers” for people to anticipate like there was in something like Smallville. I still appreciated the sustained melee action, however.

At the beginning, “Woman in Black” looks like it’s going to focus hard on the Akira Kimura angle, but there’s a big detour in the middle involving Juliette that may derail the pace of things. The obvious fairytale reference is tied to this plot, where Adalind (a witch) arranges for a bespelled cat to scratch Juliette (a beauty) at work, which eventually puts her into a coma (sleep). It’s incredibly slight in terms of an adaptation, I think, but the personal stuff with Juliette is still great since her relationship with Nick is a favorite part of the series for me. It’s just that I also felt like it pumped the brakes on the energy from the other conflict and that it could have been better paired with a more mundane case of the week so that it could more smoothly “steal” the spotlight.

From a craft perspective, I can definitely appreciate the “have your cake and eat it too” approach that the writers took here: Obviously, Nick telling Juliette about his Grimm work is a big, juicy chunk of drama the audience would love to feast on, but by having Juliette fall into a magical sleep during the attempted explanation, that lets them indulge the drama but also essentially punt on truly resolving things. Between seasons, they could (if they didn’t already know) decide if they wanted her to remember any of this or if they wanted to draw out the tension of her not knowing for longer.

A fair number of the callbacks I mentioned before are tied to this thread, as Nick takes Juliette to the trailer (and then to Monroe’s) to try to show her the truth and convince her that she needs to be worried about the cat scratch. This attempt is… bad, but I think intentionally so. As I mentioned before, I like Nick and Juliette as a couple. Their teamwork is a highlight of the episodes where it actually happens (see “The Thing With Feathers,” especially). I thought Nick would handle this better based on the precedent of their usual interactions. I’m going to just paste in a little chunk of my notes for “Woman in Black” below, as it shows the strength of my feeling about this major element of the episode from right as I was watching things unfold:

“You want the truth, you’re going to get it.” < Nick to J during their arg about Adalind and why Nick’s so suspicious of her and insistent about J getting her cat scratch seen by a doctor. Like, this ain’t good boyfriend! Vague! Threatening! Bad Nick!

Of course, the writers know this, and that’s why Nick’s desperate rant in the trailer comes off like what it is (a desperate rant from an increasingly sweaty-looking guy). It wouldn’t make sense for Juliette to not be scared! After doing this reflection, I added a “+” to the episode score solely because of this sequence and how thoroughly it got under my skin. The fact that I didn’t like it was probably the goal, and I simultaneously expected Nick/his writers to handle this moment better when it came while also wondering how you would “realistically” pull this off. I may have actually told Nick (to the screen) to focus on the fur Juliette found in “Big Feet,” which had her wondering about this stuff on her own. Maybe if he had led with that instead of all but throwing books and morning stars and terms like “Verrat” at her…

I wasn’t pleased with how he put Monroe on the spot about revealing himself to Juliette to make her believe either! It feels like the possible nadir of the more transactional side of their relationship, where Nick only spends time with or talks to Monroe about what amounts to work. I couldn’t say exactly if my opinion of “Woman in Black” would be better or worse if it had somehow ended on the Juliette plot rather than with the mother reveal. Although, to be fair, the coma stuff is also a good fit for a season finale.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Beyond the Black - CH 4

Fandom: Ateez Rating: Mature Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, with a little bit of Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa sprinkled in AO3 Masterlist

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter four

     The ship was still in need of repairs, but Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less. He was certainly in no rush to get back out to sea, and things had honestly been quite good lately. They’d been stuck in Nero for over a week, and where normally Wooyoung would be dying to get home, he didn't care if they never left.

     Over the last week, he'd spent almost all of it with San. There wasn't much they could do down at the docks while the ship was being repaired, so they spent their time walking through the town or laying in the fields beyond the kingdom walls. Sometimes they merely stayed in their room all day and laid side by side, San’s hand on Wooyoung’s hip while Wooyoung ran his hands down San’s face and chest and arms. It was perfection, bliss, and Wooyoung never wanted it to end. 

     Today was one of their stay in bed days. They had woken tangled in each other's arms and legs, and for the sixth night in a row Wooyoung had woken from a full night's sleep, not a single plaguing nightmare. The day had passed while they laid there together, talking and wasting the day away. 

     Wooyoung had gotten up in the late evening, and made his way down to the kitchen to gather some food for himself and San. On his way back he passed his father’s room. The door was slightly open and voices were coming from inside. One he knew was his fathers and the second sounded like his new chief mate. He stopped to listen, curious as to if they were speaking about the state of the ship and if they would be forced to leave soon. 

     From the crack of the door he could see his father leaned back in a chair, his feet crossed in front of him while he spoke. "The ship should be ready any day now, so ensure the crew is ready to leave at a moment's notice. As soon as the ship is ready I would like to return home, we've been far too long away."

     "Yes sir," the new chief mate answered, "and what of this boy Wooyoung found washed up along shore? Have you decided what to do with him? I assume his memories have still yet to return?"

     His father was silent for a moment, Wooyoung could see him scratching his fingers over his chin in thought. Then he leaned forward and planted both feet firmly on the ground before he answered, "I shall take him with me, as I promised. He has been a good friend to Wooyoung during our time here and has kept very close to him, seems to want to protect him."

     "As he should. Your boy saved his life."

     His father smiled and then leaned back again. "How can I deny him when he treats Wooyoung the way he does? So he will come home with us, live with us, and should his memory return and it so happens that he has a family waiting on him somewhere else, then we will return him to them. Until then he is welcomed with us."

     "Wooyoung will be happy then," the chief mate smiled, "good thing the boy didn't turn out to be the pirate you feared he could have been."

     Before Wooyoung's father had a chance to respond, Wooyoung was through the door without having realized his feet had moved of their own accord. "A pirate?" He was shocked, his eyebrows were practically in his hair. "You thought San was a pirate?"

     "Wooyoung! Have I not told you about listening at doors!?" His father scolded him, but then his expression softened and he turned to fully face his son. "I know San is not a pirate. He is far too gentle a man to be anything like those monsters. He bears no scars or tattoos like any other pirate would, brands of the life they live. But it was a thought I had to entertain, especially since he is so close to you. That storm could have wrecked any ship, even that of the greatest pirates who sail the seas. But not to worry, Wooyoung, I trust him with your life. I have seen the way he takes care of you, no longer do I worry about a pirate slumbering within him."

     "Good," Wooyoung nodded, "and he can still come with us."

     "Yes," his father answered, smiling at his son as he did, "San will be staying with us. I promised to take care of him, and I intend to keep it. So both of you make sure to be ready to set sail as soon as the ship is ready. Pack your things and make sure San has everything he needs for the journey, anything else he doesn't have we will get for him when we return home."

     Wooyoung said nothing more and ran off down the hall. He burst into his shared room with San and found the man lounging on the bed, waiting for him to return. He placed the plate of food he'd grabbed from the kitchen on the bedside table and all but jumped on top of San.

     He laughed and grabbed Wooyoung in his lap, lifted and turned him so he was straddling him with Wooyoung hands wrapped around his neck. "What's gotten you so excited?"

     "I overheard my father speaking with one of the crew." San watched him curiously and waited for him to continue, while his hands rubbed idle circles on his hips where they rested. "He said that the ship will be ready any day now and we'll be returning home soon! And of course, as promised, you'll be coming with us!"

     San smiled and pulled Wooyoung against him for a tight embrace. "I owe you and your father everything. You for saving my life and your father for taking me in, despite my memories still not returning."

     "Speaking of that." Wooyoung pulled back and moved off his lap to sit beside San. “I Also overheard my father talking about how he was worried when I first found you, that you could have been a pirate who washed off a ship during that storm."

     Wooyoung laughed, but San’s face scrunched and his lips pulled into a frown. "What if he's right?"

     "San, he's not," Wooyoung said, placing a hand on his cheek, "like he said, you're far too kind and gentle to ever be a pirate. It's not possible."

     San thought about it for a moment, and once again tried to regain some kind of memory that could help him figure things out, but there was nothing. Just a continuous empty void. "But there's a chance… I don't remember anything, so maybe-"

     "San," Wooyoung turned his head back to face him, staring him down intently while he spoke slowly, "you are not a pirate, and I don't believe that you could ever be one. The San I have come to know, even over this short of time, is not capable of the devilishly cruel life of a pirate."

     He watched Wooyoung for a moment, saw the truth and sincerity glistening in his eyes as he stared back, and smiled. "Yeah, you're right. I could never be so ruthless or merciless."

     "Good," Wooyoung answered, then turned and grabbed the plate of food and passed it to San, "now eat, and then we have to make sure we are packed and ready to go as soon as the ship’s ready. Then we can lay in bed all night and relax."

     "Sounds perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "What are you reading?"

     Wooyoung placed a finger in the book and closed it as he turned to look at San and showed him the title. "It's called Everlasting."

     "What's it about?" San asked and scooted closer to him on the bed.

     "It's a romance," he answered, then ran a hand gently down the book as he continued, "it's about a wealthy woman in England who falls for a poor servant boy who works in her family's stables. She loves him so much, but it's expected of her to marry according to her status, so a poor stable worker is not good enough for her, especially in the eyes of her father. So they try to run away together, but they get caught and the boy gets thrown in a cell and sentenced to death."

     "Why?!"

     Wooyoung chuckled at his enthusiasm, and answered, "Because the girl's father accused him of kidnapping his daughter. And because he had such a high status, his word was taken over the poor boys and he was given the sentence."

     "What else? Does she save him? Do they get to be together?!" He had practically crawled into Wooyung’s lap, begging for answers.

     "Unfortunately no," he answered, giving San a small smile when his lips turned downward, "not in life anyway." San gave him a quizzical look that Wooyoung found extremely cute, so he continued. "She is forced to watch his execution and it destroys her. Then her father forces her into a marriage she doesn't want with some high class brat who she hates. All the while the only thing she can think of is her lost love. In the end, because she just can never forget him or the love they shared while he was alive, she kills herself while laying on his grave to be with him. So they meet again in the afterlife and it turns out he'd been waiting there for her the whole time, and they finally get to be happy together in the end. It's a sad ending, but kind of happy I guess. I've read it before, but it's honestly one of my favourites. You can read it when I'm finished if you want."

     San frowned and shook his head. "I can't read." It was Wooyoung's turn to look confused. "I don't know if it's because of the memory loss, or maybe I was just never taught, but I can't read. I tried to read some over your shoulder earlier, but I couldn't."

     "I could teach you," Wooyoung offered with a smile, happy to do so.

     San thought it over then shook his head and said. "Or you could just read it to me. I'd rather just sit and listen to your voice anyway."

     Wooyoung beamed and maybe even blushed a little, though he didn't try to hide it. Instead he just sat further back against the headrest, stretched his legs out, and patted them for San to lay down. He settled in right away, laying on his back with his legs hanging over the bed, staring up at Wooyoung as he turned the book back to page one and began to read.

     "Elizabeth was a quiet girl." His hand instantly found its way to San’s hair, playing with it idly while he read and San purred at the touch. "A good girl. She made no fuss and caused no grief. Did everything she was told and always with the sweetest smile. She was loved by all she came across, admired by many more, and cherished as her fathers only daughter. Elizabeth was a good girl, until she met Edward."

     "The poor stable boy!" San gasped, and wrapped a hand into the front of Wooyoung's shirt.

     He laughed and ran his hand through San’s hair again. "Yes, he's the stable boy." The he turned back to the book. "Edward's father had worked for Elizabeth’s family for years, and upon his retirement, Edward took up his place in her family's stables. What was supposed to be a simple job for him, turned out to be a change in his life he would have never expected."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next two days found Wooyoung and San never leaving the bed. San was so fixated on the book, on the story of Elizabeth and Edward and their growing love, that all he wanted to do from sunrise until sunset was listen to Wooyoung reading. Sometimes San would even snuggle close to his side and hold a candle near the pages, just so they could continue into the night. Wooyoung didn't mind one bit.

     By the second evening they were over the halfway mark and just getting to some of the good parts, one of them being one of the more passionate scenes that was Wooyoung’s favourite. He had a feeling San was going to enjoy it as well, if his love for the previous romantic scenes in the book was any indication.

     "It was this night,” Wooyoung read, “this chilled autumn night, with a star-covered sky and the sounds of owls and crickets playing the symphony of their love, that Elizabeth and Edward decided to become one. 

     She was nervous, excited, her entire body thrumming with nerves. After dinner that night with her parents, she retired to her room and immediately ran to her window to throw it open. Edward had said he would light a torch in the barn window when the other stable hands had left, when it was safe for them to be together for the night without the risk of being caught.

     She waited there, perched on her window for what seemed like hours before the torch finally bathed the barn window in a bright orange. Finally their time had come.

     Elizabeth climbed over the window sill and out into the cool night air. She ran across the yard to where the barn was and quietly snuck inside. Her nerves made themselves known again, twisting her stomach in all kinds of knots, but she pushed them aside and walked further into the barn.

     Edward was there, as promised, waiting for her. He had set up the loft with a blanket, some old torn pillows, and surrounded it in lit candles, all ready for their night of romance. 

     Edward held out his hand to her, led her up the stairs and into the loft. Without a single word said between them he helped her down to the blanket, laid her back and settled himself between her legs…" Wooyoung paused for just a moment, long enough to look down at San where he was laying in his lap. He was on his side with his arms wrapped around Wooyoung's waist and his head turned so he could look up at him. His eyes were wide, the anticipation in them was clear. Wooyoung was right, he had known San would like this part of the book just as much as he did. 

     Wooyoung quickly snapped the book shut and placed it on the bedside table out of San’s reach. "I think that's probably enough for tonight, we can read more tomorrow."

     "What?!" He shook his head and jolted up, staring at Wooyoung in disbelief. "We can't stop there! You have to keep reading."

     He reached over Wooyoung and tried to grab the book, but he grabbed his hand and stopped him. "I think it's a perfect place to stop," he smirked, knowing this would get San going, "and it's already dark, it's getting hard to see the pages in the candle light."

     "But I need to know what happens!" Wooyoung simply laughed at him. Then San sat up fully, twisting so that he was straddling Wooyoung's lap. "You could just tell me then, so I'm not left wondering. Tell me what happens."

     Wooyoung smiled at him and settled his hands on his chest, rubbing gentle circles as he spoke. "Elisabeth and Edward get to have the night they were hoping for. They spend the night together, making passionate love until the sun rises the next morning, and then she leaves him with a kiss and the promise of more nights spent in bliss."

     San sighed, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "Good," he said, "but I need to know more! I need to know how their night went, and if they realize how much they love each other," then added with a coy tone and a sly smirk, "I guess that, during their night of passion, there would have been lots of kissing, a lot more than just one simple goodnight kiss."

     "I would think so," Wooyoung agreed, matching his sudden seductive sway.

     "And they probably get really close, just like this." He leaned in to Wooyoung, touched their noses together, felt the breath catch in his throat.

     "Yeah," he nodded, his breathing picking up.

     "And then…" San moved in all the way, closing the gap and placing a gentle kiss on Wooyoung's lips. It was simple, merely a press of lips on lips, nothing more. But it was the most exhilarating thing either of them had ever felt, a spark that lit their nerves on fire.

     When they parted they kept close, their lips ghosting as they lingered in each other's space. "Have…" Wooyoung started, still breathless, "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

     "I can't remember," San shook his head, nudging his nose against Wooyoung’s as he did, making him laugh, "but if I had I think I would have remembered, especially if it felt like that."

     "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

     San just smiled and leaned in again for another kiss, intending this time to take more from Wooyoung and give him even more in return. 

     Wooyoung jolted up to meet him, eager, needing San to devour him, craving his touch already.

     The halls outside erupted into sudden chaos, and both boys pulled back and turned to face the door, frozen. They could hear screaming, people running through the halls. It sounded like people were falling, banging into walls and knocking things over. It made Wooyoung's skin tingle and his hair stand up on edge. He clutched to San’s shirt as the commotion continued on endlessly, and his breathing picked up for an entirely different reason.

     The door to their room burst open and San jolted from the bed, placing himself between Wooyoung and whatever was coming through the door.

     "Boys!" It was Wooyoung's father. His face was white and panicked, there was sweat gathered on his brow. "We have to leave now!"

     "Father, what's going on?"

     He ran into the room and grabbed the two bags Wooyoung had packed for him and San, and slung them over his shoulder before he turned back and uttered one single word that left their blood running ice cold. "Pirates."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I know it's been a while, but things got a little crazy around here for a while, but I am back with another chapter for you! I hope you like it, things are starting to get a bit more heated between San and Wooyoung... XD

[ao3feed-nace]

Nancy Drew text posts (7/?)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/uh354Ng by bethanyactually NACE APPRECIATION WEEK 2022 - DAY 1: Favorite S3 episode, season, or moment - 3.07 - The Gambit of the Tangled Souls Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Nancy Drew + Text Posts Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Nancy Drew, Ace (Nancy Drew), George Fan, Ryan Hudson, Carson Drew, Ned Nickerson, Bess Marvin Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: text posts + screencaps, Nace Appreciation Week 2022, Episode: s03e07 The Gambit of the Tangled Souls, The Drew Crew (Nancy Drew) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/uh354Ng

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hello, handsome. x Trafalgar D. Law ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

(part 2)

hullo! as anticipated, here's the law piece I've been working on the past few days. i love every word - it all started as pure brain rot and ended up in.. this. i hope this will make up for my absence!

warnings: nsfw is implied but nothing more! spoiler free.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

It all started with an innocent invitation to Law's office a few weeks ago, to discuss the next steps of the alliance between the straw hats and the heart pirates and better define you mode of attack. Now you were in his ship, carefully hidden in the depth of the sea, making a mess on Law's desk.

His usually meticulously tidy paperwork was now everywhere - on the floor, under you. Some of it even got ripped but neither of you cared; you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves. The sexual tension was stronger than your survival instincts, and meetings to organise a war ended up with Law being inside you, making you his.

Casual meetings became a daily routine, and daily routines became midnight talkings. Both of your crews won't see you for days, whilst the two of you were simply tangled together in his bed or on the floor of his studio. Before you could even realise it, your little runaways for a quickie became hours spent together, cuddling each other and sharing your deepest thoughts.

Law was getting used to see you walk around his ship, wearing nothing but one of his shirt - everything about it felt just right. He often wondered why would you ever join the straw hat pirates; you didn't belong there. He was crazy about you, to the point where he was willing to try everything to make you stay - even if that mean being as reckless as your captain. Maybe, Law thought, if he could show you he could be a better leader, you would give up Luffy and his stupid dream and just sail the sea with him instead.

Wrapping his arm around you, Law made you brought you closer to him, letting your back rest against his bare chest. Snuggling his head between your neck and shoulders, he started leaving gentle kisses all around the area, the beard on his chin lightly tickling you.

"Hello handsome." you giggled, turning around to face him but still remaining in his arms. Dragging the blankets over both of you, you rested your head on his chest.

"Hello." he replied, a soft smile forming on his face.

It had been three days since the two of you hid in the ship. Staying under the sea somehow dilated time, with little to no light coming out from the little portholes. But he knew you eventually had to go back to the surface and come up with a good excuse for your absence. For now, however, he just wanted to savour this moment. He loved holding you in his arms, the way your bare skin touching his almost felt like a like an electric shock being directly sent through every nerve in his body.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, gently caressing your shoulders, letting his rough hands travel on your body.

"Like a baby." you reply proudly, kissing his chest and enjoying his soft attentions. The only thing Law managed to do in response was holding you tighter to him, striving for more closure. He wanted to feel you under his skin, so that he would have never had to let you go. Maybe the coziness of the ship could make you stay for longer.

When the two of you finally rejoined the crews, you noticed how every one looked at you suspiciously. Your little white lies and your undercover missions in the city weren't holding up as they used to.

"You know, maybe we should stop disappearing for a while." you suggested at one point, while the rest of the crew was asleep. You and Law were the only ones awake, strangely being on guard's shifts at the same time.

Law didn't say a word, lifting his head up to take a better look at the night sky. He was hoping to find an answer hidden amongst the stars, something that would give him enough courage to just spit it all out; how he felt towards you, what he thought about your stupid captain. Truth was, the stars never replied to Law's pleas - and so he kept silent. Your suggestion felt like a thousand dagger planted exactly in the middle of his heart, which now ached at every single beat. Was this really the end? Were your little rendezvouses nothing more than just that?

After your suggestion that night, Law's attitude completely changed. He was grumpier and more silent than usual, not reacting to Luffy's reckless decisions or dumb suggestions. He became almost passive, letting life just happen to him. Hiding in his mental palace, Law was really just trying to cope with his broken heart. Experiencing something similar to withdrawal symptoms, he wasn't able to function properly - something in his system broke and it was obvious to everyone. You kept him sane and shed a new light upon life; he felt alive again after a long time. Most importantly, Law felt loved - for the very first time after years of lonesome and darkness.

You never meant to cut him off of your life - his complete detachment was not what you wanted or meant. Flashbacks of the intimate moments you shared on his ship flashed before your eyes during the day, never failing to make you visibly blush and zone out - sadness insinuating under your skin moments later, every fibre of your body suffering from Law's absence. And you couldn't bear it anymore.

This situation was tearing both of you apart, and it quickly became visible to everyone. Everybody knew you and Law had something going on, and seeing both of you so heartbroken just confirmed everyone's doubts.

It wasn't until a few weeks after that things changed.

A very tired, worn out Law finally made a move. Joining you at dinner after the first times in weeks, he sat in the dining room with you and the rest of the crews. Sitting in front of each other was the first interaction the two of you had in weeks. Kicking your leg under the table to catch your attention, he finally looked at you after what felt like an entire lifetime.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly, knowing his comrades were making enough noise to cover his voice up. Your eyes lighted up for a second, and you simply nodded in response before getting up and putting your plate in the sink. Excusing yourself, you walked out of the kitchen and reached what used to be your usual place - a small spot under the oak tree right outside your hideout.

Law was quick to join you, letting himself fall on the grass and finally sitting next to you once again, remaining silent. The sole sensation of having you near made Law's heart skip a beat.

"I missed you." you said, finally breaking the silence.

"I missed you too." he was quick to reply, biting his bottom lip. He slowly turned his head towards you, scanning his eyes all over your face. His eye bags were darker and his face looked more sunken than usual.

"This was never what I meant." you said, your voice shaking as feelings of guilt wrapping your heart as a barbed wire. "I hate this. I only wanted to make it less obvious to the others - instead, you completely shut me out of your life." you added, talking a little faster than before.

Law remained silent whilst he visibly clenched his jaw, only nodding in response. He needed to digest your words, his feelings and the whole situation, really. Maybe he brought the pain upon himself with his usual self sabotaging ways, ending up hurting you too.

"Law." you called him, resting your hand on his shoulder. His silence was killing you, and it weighted heavier than any word he could have said. "Please talk to me." you almost begged, your voice shaking as the lump in your throat became harder to ignore.

He sighed in response, before pulling you closer to him - he couldn't resist it anymore. Letting your head rest on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you, making you disappear in his embrace. Kissing the top of your head, he kept holding you tight as if he was afraid you could easily slip away from his arms at any moment. His heart beat fast against his ribcage as he finally felt alive again - as if he had held his breath until this very moment; as if you just brought him back to life.

"I'm sorry." was all he managed to say. Not because he couldn't come up with anything better - his mind was flooded with things he wished he had said to you before getting the both of you into this stupid, senseless, cold war. He kissed your forehead again, then the tip of your nose before peppering your cheeks with gentle kisses. God only knew how much he had longed for you.

A cheeky smile appeared on your lips before latching your arms around his neck, finally pressing your lips onto his into what quickly became an heated, sloppy kiss. You were both starving, needy to finally let your bodies become one once again, melting the passion and lust away.

"Should we.." he whimpered, excitement building up in his body as he tried to catch his breath. All it took was a nod from you, and before you could realise it you were finally in his bedroom, in his ship.

Maybe you could get used to become an heart pirate, after all..

[banditcoyote]

Wrangled and Tangled

Sasuga stood by the sink washing the last of the dishes from tonights meal. She smiled softly to herself as her tail flicked behind her, happy about the sets of cups and plates she had picked out, feeling domesticated and settled looking over the two sets of dishes her and her lover had shared, something about them in the drying rack felt almost romantic to her. But maybe it was just the way the sunset was showing so pink and purple over the water that was making her feel that way, the cool summer breeze blowing in from the open Lanai. She hummed to herself a little as she dried her hand and reached for the first plate, ready to dry them herself, when the dish cloth was plucked out of her hands swiftly.

“Let me take care of that.” Simon said perching himself onto the counter and starting to dry one of their plates.

“All the left overs put away?” she asked leaning against the counters and bringing her wine to her lips.

“Most of them.” he said with a nod. “Except for the second helping I couldn’t resist, which is now residing in my stomach.”  

She laughed lightly, brushing her hair back behind her ear “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She said with a nod, moving to cozy up to him just a little bit, her eyes full of warmth, and maybe a bit of mischief. “Maybe we can enjoy some other things when you’re done putting those dishes away.” She said with a curl to her lips.

Simon returned the smile and took a moment to lean down to kiss her easily, drawing back with a little hum. “I can think of some things for sure.” He added. “But before we get too distracted.” He placed the clean plate down on the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small ring box and placing it on the counter next to her hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Sasuga froze at the sight of the small velvet box and her large eyes went wide, slowly looking up into Simon’s face, searching for the meaning.

Simon at once realizing what she might have thought smiled and blushed. “I know we’ve talked about it, but this is just a promise ring.”  Sasuga let go of the breath she was holding with some relief. He picked the box up and opened it. “See?” inside was a thing gold band with a small rose quartz crystal cut into the shape of a heart that side horizontal to the finger. He reached for her left hand and slid it on to her ring finger kissing it into place. “I love you Sasuga, I know that this might not be perfect, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.” Sasuga looked to the ring on her finger, feeling tears pull at the corner of her eyes. He hopped down from the counter “Oh no….is it too much? I know we said we weren’t going to do anything, that dinner was enough but-“

She shook her head “Don’t be stupid.” She said choking back her emotions. “I love it. I love you….Thank you.” She looked at the ring again before reaching up to tug on one of his horns pulling him down into a kiss. “Forget the dishes….come on.” She said, her tail already snaking up around his waist to guide him toward their bedroom.

Coyote woke up with a start, staring up into the dark ceiling above him. He contemplated for a moment what that dream could have meant, and his jaw tightened in his face. Did Sasuga sleep with Simon while he was away, it was the only rule he had given. Or maybe that had made the whole thing more enticing for the two of them. Still, why would Sasuga end up with Simon, he had the feeling he was absent, that house not looking familiar to him in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, almost willing it to come back to him, but some of the finer details were already fading from his memory, and all he remembered was the way the pair looked longingly at each other before they kissed. He gave a little growl and pushed himself up quickly to throw on some jeans and a shirt.

“Coyote?” Shishi asked lifting his head from where he was curled up on one of the pillows. “Where are you going?” he asked rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

“I’m heading back to the Makai” he told Shishi as he pulled his shirt down over his torso.

The imp eyed the view appreciatively before his senses snapped back to him. “Should I be worried?” he asked knowing of Coyote’s sometimes prophetic dreams, and he wondered if he had some type of vision of Sasuga’s fights. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Coyote shook his head. “No. No. It’s nothing like that it’s….” only he wasn’t entirely sure he could begin to really understand it himself. He shook his head “Sasuga’s fine. I just need to see her. I only had that one other show at the end of the week anyway, stay here, I’ll go tell Russell to pack everything up and head on home. You’ll be fine finding a flight right? I mean, stay the night, don’t leave on my account.”

Shishi laughed “Oh it was that kind of dream was it?” he grinned. “Okay, Well, tell her I said hello and get back safely.” He said as he yawned and laid back down to sleep. “I’m sure Kurama and Gatlin will be happy to have me home, if they haven’t torn each other apart yet…”

Coyote slapped on his cowboy hat and grabbed a jacket though he felt his skin burning. “And you remember what we said about this right?” he asked as he headed toward the door.

“My lips are sealed.” Shishi murmured. “Not a word to anyone”

“Especially to Sasuga.” He confirmed hand on the door.

“Especially Sasuga.” Shishi promised “She’d probably be more upset with me than you anyway” and waved him off.

Coyote found himself easily at his ring manager’s trailer, pounding on the door. He felt bad to be waking Russell up like this but he knew he couldn’t just disappear in the middle of the night and leave Shishi to explain for  him, things looked weird enough having him around. Russell answered the door, looking as if he was still blinking back sleep. “Coyote, everything alright?” he asked looking around.

“No…Um no, there was a fire back at the ranch.” He said lying on his feet. Thinking easily of the fire at Thom’s he could use as a cover even if the time line wouldn’t match up. He figured it would never get back to Russell anyways. The manager looked concerned. “It’s nothing big, a small one thank god, no one hurt, but I really should get out there, I know we only have the exhibit at the end of the week so I was just going to head home now. Would that be too much of a pain for ya’ll to handle?”

Russell cleared the sleep from his eyes with his hand “Yeah, yeah I can handle it no problem. Take care, hope it’s as small as you say.” He said and headed back to his bed.

Coyote made one more stop, saying farewell to Poncho in his trailer, before he headed towards the nearest portal in the woods, which was still pretty far, and Coyote had to be careful no one saw him as he slipped into the woods and transformed, having to sprint as fast as he could to reach the portal before daylight. He was glad he had the foresight to try and keep his motorcycle as close to him as possible, as the only other way he could have gotten there was to fly back home and then race to her, and he wasn’t sure he could stand being on a plane the way he was feeling.  All cooped up without being able to run or move, or do anything. It would have been torture, not like the past few weeks hadn’t been. The time away from Sasuga had been harder than he’d like to admit, and he already knew he would never plan on being away from her like this again. All the time away from her he had felt like pulling his skin off. He had helped Thom around her house before he left, and at the rodeo he did more of the manual work than anyone really wanted him to. He ran Poncho as often as he felt he could without causing the poor animal too much strain, and then would run laps as fast as he could as long as he could well into the night. But it was never enough, the women that tried to greet him as soon as he stepped out of the rodeo corral still enticed him to the point he had to nearly run back to his RV. All that hair, perfume, and how the hell where they making such good bras now adays? Though he was sure that some of breasts out there weren’t only held up by a bra but maybe some type of surgery, that didn’t sway him away any. Then the fact that in some of the more populous areas there were actual demon women in the crowds, and those he really had to avoid. He was sure they’d sense something about him, and he was doing his best to be incognito. Luckily his prior years of fooling around with plenty of the women at these things rarely had any of his crew spotting him being social, so now that he was hiding out on his own it went unnoticed. Coyote tried to run himself ragged, exercise, the rodeo, his variety of plants and a few sex toys paired unironically with the body pillow he had snuck on board, none of it had done the exact trick. Which had then led him to call Shishi. It had been a long shot, but it didn’t take much convincing getting him to come out to see him in secret, even if he was a bit miffed at having to mostly stay hidden at the events. Coyote let him have the pass into where the wives or girlfriend’s normally sat, and he posed in his refinery during the events when it fancied him. It had helped tire him out, but he still hadn’t been getting enoug

He thought he could remain out here for the full month, and they had gotten so close, it was almost silly to run now. But after the dream with her and Simon he just couldn’t deny the ache he felt for his mate any longer and he had to find his way back to her. Dawn was just about to break as he reached the portal and he wasted no time heading through it and heading towards where he had hidden his bike. He felt like a dog that had gotten a scent, and he wasn’t going to rest until he got to her. **** Four days later still hours from dawn, Coyote stashed the bike behind the hotel, barely taking care to hide it, and stumbled into the lobby. He had all the faith in the world that Sasuga was still in the tournament, and held the most hope that meant she was still in the hotel room that he had the key stashed for. He limped into the lobby where the clerk paled at the site of him. “Sir….” He said rushing around the desk and towards him. “Do you need a medic?” he asked looking him over.

Coyote didn’t waste the energy to speak to him and only shook his head as he stumbled forward before catching his balance again. He knew what he looked like, but wasn’t stopped as it was clear the clerk in his pristine uniform was afraid to touch him at all.

“Is there someone I can call?” he said walking along side him as Coyote shuffled to the elevator, bracing himself against the lobby wall and causing a smear of blood to press into the wall paper.

Coyote considered it for a moment, but shook his head again. If Sasuga was still in the tournament this late in the game there was a chance she was injured as well, and he wanted her to save her strength for fighting. He’d be okay. He just needed a shower, some stitches, and her.

The clerk did not follow him into the elevator, being the main hotel for the tournament he was surely not the only injured guest they received, and he retreated back to their desk, probably to call for maintenance to clean up whatever other mess Coyote had left behind him. He leaned against the wall as it started it’s ascension toward the upper floors, again leaving a smear of dirt and blood where his shoulder braced himself. A few droplets of blood dripping from somewhere onto the floor. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach it’s destination, the doors pausing once as a couple was about to get on, but after seeing him let him go on without a question. Coyote almost passed out, unsure if it was from blood loss or exhaustion, but the dinging and wooshing of the doors riled him, and he staggered out into the hallway. Knowing he was so close to Sasuga spurred him on, and he was relieved to find that the card key still worked. He let himself into the hotel room, finding it dark and quiet and he did his best to move with stealth into the bathroom. He passed the bed and spotted Sasuga sleeping peacefully by herself, he was grateful for this because with the rage that was still somewhat in his veins if he had found Simon with her he might have taken a regrettable action. In that moment iat took everything in him to not simply cover her with himself, though with how dirty he was he knew it would only concern her more. There was blood in his mouth and under his fingernails, matting his hair down and sticking to his hat. Better to clean himself up first, and he shut the bathroom door behind him before turning on the light.

He did his best not to look at himself in the mirror, but finding it a necessity to assess some of the damage. If he had made it this far like this it couldn’t have been too bad. Still he was in rough shape. Not only was his face cut, bruised, and swollen, but he had also lost enough weight that he appeared gaunt under the torn and dirty clothes he wore. He slowly undressed, assessing each wound, fresh bruises forming on top of old ones, some cuts that were still bleeding every time he moved, gashes that would no doubt need to be closed up. He hissed as some of the clothing stuck to him where blood had dried, let his effects fall to the floor, his gun empty and tucked back in his holster, and stepped into the shower letting the water strike at his feet until it was warm enough to step into. He braced himself against the wall, letting it flow over his hair and down his back, feeling the sense of relief start to fill him as well. He had made it, he was close to resting, and he was close to his mate, that was all he could ask for right now.

[tangledbea]

Tangled Crew Appreciation Week: Props to the Props Designers!

Rapunzel’s frying pan, Cassandra’s swords, Eugene’s satchel, Varian’s alchemy equipment; none of this would exist without the prop designers. Their work is in literally every scene. They bring the characters to life by giving them an environment to interact with.

Tangled: the Series has three prop designers: David Lee, who I met at D23 Expo (and let me tell you, the look on his face when I gushed about his work on the show made everything worth it. You could tell that he doesn’t get recognition for his job well done very often), Eunji Lee Roess, and @taranicoledessine (Tara Whitaker), who provided the picture above, and is responsible for Rapunzel’s in-series art style. (Other than the art that @claireonacloud (Claire Keane) provided, such as the mural on her wall.)

So, give it up for the people who add the flavor text to the series! The show wouldn’t be nearly as interesting without you guys! Thanks so much for all your great work!

[enruiinas]

She had a point there. Even in the early days of the alliance, when Nami had been one of the only few among the rival crew to question his motives and the surgeon would have denied any chance of them ever having a late night conversation together (let alone any of the things that would come after), it had been difficult not to appreciate the navigator in all her natural beauty. 

Hiding it had been easy enough, though - at least until it wasn’t. Until weeks of quiet fondness had begun to shift into something else Law managed to ignore, right up to the moment he’d pinned her between his body and a wall. He’d tried harder than ever after that to pretend there was nothing between them but the alliance. Convinced himself that that was for the best, because their alliance was only temporary and they were busy and Law would not allow himself to do something as silly as missing her when those late night moments between them came to an end. He would not. 

And yet he had. He’d missed all of it - from waiting for the quiet sounds of her approaching footfalls when she couldn’t sleep to every little thing he’d pretended he hadn’t cared to discover that night. The sounds she’d made as he sought to take her mind off of everything else. The rise and fall of her chest against his when they’d lain tangled and spent together afterward. The taste of each breathless kiss he’d tried to sleep off with his injuries. 

That same taste he arched into now, neck craning to follow every move as Nami all but crawled atop him in a bid for control. Whether it was out of deference for being in her room or awe of the enticing image she made, Law could not say - but he didn’t resist her efforts. Perhaps he was too focused on his own exploration of her body, he thought, sparing a single moment to shrug his shirt off before his hands slipped underneath hers, bunching the fabric up with every centimeter his fingers traveled upward along her slender frame. Taking the time to appreciate every dip and curve in his path until fingertips grazed the bare swell of her breasts. His note of approval was a soft growl against her lips. 

❝True,❞ Law broke the kiss long enough to hum in agreement, giving her breasts a gentle squeeze before he nudged the garment up for her to dispose of. ❝Personally, though, I think you look the best in nothing,❞

[merakiui]

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

[goingmorry]

The Art of Domesticity [Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader]

Synopsis: On a whim, Law decides to indulge you with a hot bath. Feeling lethargic despite your nap, you are more than delighted to take him up on his offer.

Tags: domestic fluff, sexually suggestive themes, male and female nudity, established relationship

Word Count: 2,161

In the depths of the Grand Line, deadly sea creatures swim idly by, patiently waiting for the next unsuspecting shipwrecked pirate to serve as their next meal.

Not long after, an unknown object of immeasurable speed barrels across the ocean floor, whirring past the mess of Sea Kings. Intent on chomping down on the foreign entity, the creatures join together in pursuit.

A yellow submarine, adorned with a Jolly Roger resembling a smiley face and inscribed with the words "DEATH,"  shakes beneath the water pressure.

The Polar Tang, home to the notorious Heart Pirates, aggressively reverberates in response to the Sea Kings' pursuit, mimicking the chaos inside the ship.

Meanwhile, in the control room, Captain Trafalgar Law stands at attention, face impassive as he calmly assesses the situation. In contrast to the rest of the crew's panicked behavior, Law had complete confidence in his crew's ability to make it out of this predicament unharmed. Right on cue, Law watches as his navigator, Vice-Captain Bepo, expertly maneuvers the ship away from dubious underwater beasts and excess debris. Under Bepo's supervision, Shachi and Penguin carefully operate the numerous controls to keep the sub afloat. In the engine room, Ikkaku and Jean Bart attend to the ship's generators, air compressors, and fuel pumps, ensuring their pristine condition during the onslaught.

After weeks of being submerged, the Polar Tang steadily heads to the surface. And with every second that passes, the distance between the pirates and the monsters increases until the vessel can no longer be seen by their pursuers. Sure enough, having lost sight of their target, it became apparent to the Sea Kings that they were no match for the submarine's speed. Where the ship once was, only faint bubble traces remain.

Unbeknownst to the pirate crew, loud rumbling sounds vibrate across the sea bed, the Sea Kings' roars echoing across the deep oceans, scaring away small fishes that dare to come close.

"We've lost sight of them, Captain," Bepo exclaims, swiveling his chair in Law's direction.

"So it seems," Law says, grabbing the nearby Den Den Mushi to announce their successful escape to the entire crew.

Almost immediately, Penguin and Shachi cheer in conjunction with the rest of the crew's boisterous laughter. To celebrate their victory, the Polar Tang resurfaces, providing an opportunity for the crew to receive some much-needed sunlight.

The turbulent atmosphere moments ago can no longer be found, replaced by a serene calmness. In celebration, the Heart Pirates gather in the upper deck, engaging themselves in various recreational activities. The perfect time to disappear for a bit, Law thinks.

Voicing these thoughts, Law directly addresses Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. "I'll be in my room."

Shachi nudges Penguin, suggestively wiggling their eyebrows at each other. Bepo curiously looks at the duo, sneaking glances at his captain, while Law scowls at their childishness.

"Don't worry, Captain! We'll make sure no one bothers you two!" Penguin blurts out, earning a swift elbow to his ribs.

"You idiot! Be more discreet next time!" Shachi angrily whispers in Penguin's ear, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, before continuing, "They're still in the honeymoon phase."

"More like hornymoon phase," Penguin huffs, causing both of them to break out in uncontrollable giggles. Bepo lets out an innocent smile.

Choosing not to respond since nothing he could say could convince Shachi and Penguin otherwise, Law hurries to his quarters, leaving the two to their incessant bickering.

- - - - - - - - - -

Standing in front of his bedroom,  Law raises his hand to give two light raps to the door. He frowns at the lack of response, turning the door handle to reveal your upper body sprawled on his desk. He pauses for a moment before walking over to your slumped form. Upon closer inspection, you were sleeping soundlessly, seemingly unaware of earlier's events. Your head was nestled atop your forearms, an expression of serenity overcoming your features. Sheets of paper and various writing instruments were strewn across the corner of the desk, haphazardly pushed aside to accommodate your slumbering figure.

Law lifts his tattooed hand, gently brushing the stray hair that had fallen on your face. He runs his fingers across your unruly hair, noticing several tangled knots that had formed. Despite your less-than-ideal appearance, however, you never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

Deciding to let you sleep for a moment longer, Law saunters over to the bathroom, intent on running a bath for himself and you, should you choose to wake up in time to join him.

The sound of the water steadily splashing as it fills the tub is enough to rouse you.

Your eyes flutter open, turning around in search of the source of the noise before landing on the ajar door leading to the bathroom. A familiar lanky figure - sporting his signature leopard jeans - crouches over the tub. You couldn't see the top half of his body, but you were pretty sure he was monitoring the tub's water level. Not long after, you hear the sound of the faucet turning, and the water stops. Law stands up, walking over to lean against the doorframe. His golden eyes meet yours in amusement, mouth turning upward in a slight smirk.

"Mmm... Did something happen?" you mumble, voice raspy from your nap. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning in satisfaction before leaning back against the headrest of the chair. Despite the needed rest, you didn't feel as refreshed as you'd hoped. You felt so exhausted, your lips dry and your mouth parched.

Law must have noticed your tiredness in your appearance and voice. He reacts almost immediately, enveloping you in a familiar blue film. "Room," he says in that low tone you've come to love before a mug of water appears on the desk in front of you. You blink at him in surprise, humming appreciatively.

"I... Thanks," you say, gripping the mug between your hands before taking generous gulps. He can be so thoughtful when he wants to be, you think, unable to hide the smile gracing your lips as you do so.

He returns your hidden smile with a smile of his own. "Nothing important," he vaguely adds.

You look at him in confusion before realizing his was response was to your previous question. You nod in acknowledgment, deciding not to pry, before setting the now empty mug aside.

Law walks over to his side of the bed, pulling his cap off to set it down on the nightstand, keeping it relatively safe and away from tonight's activities.

"I ran you a bath. Get in it."

He glances at you before striding over to the bathroom. You cock an eyebrow at his retreating figure.

Before you have the chance to retort, he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it over to the laundry basket. The sight of his muscled backside, inked with his jolly roger, makes the words die in your throat.

Before you can stop yourself, your tongue peeks out from the corner of your mouth to moisten your chapped lips. Your thirst was for an entirely different reason now.

"Don't keep me waiting." As if seemingly aware of his effect on you, Law disappears behind the door, the sound of clothes rustling reach your ears, no doubt the sound of the remainder of his clothes being shed. You can hear the amusement dripping in his honeyed tone, can picture the full-blown smirk evident on his face.

You reflexively gulp, feeling your body flush in response to his invitation. You've seen Law naked plenty of times by now, you reassure yourself. Have become well-acquainted with each other's bodies. Know firsthand how the heart tattoo inked on his chest ripples under your teasing touch as your hands trail down his chiseled abs. How the sweat glistens his toned skin and how his usually impassive face contorts in pleasure as he thrusts into-

You shake your head to keep the dirty thoughts at bay.

We're just having a nice relaxing bath together, you think, not entirely convincing yourself.

Following his lead, you stroll over to the laundry basket, stripping yourself of your clothing to join Law in the bath. Your head peeks out from the corner of the open bathroom door while the rest of your naked body remains in the bedroom, away from his prying eyes, your nervous gesture making it appear as though you were an innocent virgin.

Adorable, he thinks.

You look at each other expectantly, your eyes admiring his perfectly relaxed posture. His jet-black hair was in disarray, poking out in all directions, evidence of his combing through them in a careless fashion. His arms were stretched to the sides, slim fingers gripping the edges of the tub. His naked upper body was in full display; the dark ink of his tattoos was a stark contrast to the white bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, obscuring the lower half of his body.

You clear your throat, eyes returning to meet his golden ones that were alight with apparent amusement. "Sorry to intrude."

Law chuckles, the sound of his baritone voice echoing across the bathroom walls, only for your ears to hear. When you take a step forward and close the door behind you, his eyes drop to your naked form, shamelessly admiring your breasts and derrière.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," you say indignantly, pausing right in front of the tub, his brazen admiration of your nudity quickly restoring your confidence.

"I am," he says without hesitation, golden hues darkening with desire at your bold gesture.

Leaning over the tub, you bring your face close to his, lips a breath away from touching. For a moment, you pull back to admire his rugged handsomeness, fingers ghosting over his goatee to his cheek before settling on the back of his neck. Lightly tugging his hair, you pull him in for a chaste kiss, your free hand grasping the edge of the tub for balance. Law has other plans, however, as he reciprocates by licking the bottom of your lips for permission to dive into the wet expanse of your mouth. You let him, of course, moaning at the feel of his demanding tongue as it fights against yours for control.

His hand snakes across the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging, mirroring your previous actions, while his other hand firmly kneads your breast. You groan against his mouth at the display of dominance in his rough handling of your body, loving how depraved he can be when aroused by you.

After what seems like an eternity, his hands gently encircle your waist, coaxing your body to join him into the warm pool of the tub. You oblige, breaking off the kiss to positioning yourself in between his legs, facing toward him. You sigh in contentment at the feel of the bubbled water and the warmth emanating from his bare body. Making an executive decision not to escalate further should both of you decide to forego the bath in favor of more risque activities, you avoid the softness of his lips. Instead, your mouth latches onto his neck, leaving trailing kisses to his jaw before stopping to rest your head at the crook of his shoulder. In response, Law sighs in defeat, hands rubbing reassuring circles against your back. The heated passion of your earlier kiss was replaced with soothing affection.

"Will you wash my hair?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his skin.

Law looks down at your head nuzzled against him, eyes softening at your vulnerable state. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me," he says before nudging you over to turn around.

You do as your told, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. His hands reach over the side of the tub for your shampoo, squeezing a sizable portion onto his hands, lathering it up into a foam. His hands weave into your hair, softly massaging the shampoo into your scalp in circular motions, careful to avoid your ears.

You can't help the wide grin that stretches across your face, thankful that your lover can't see your smile from the way you're positioned away from him. Trafalgar Law - a notoriously fearsome pirate, Captain of the Heart Pirates, and a former Warlord of the Sea - is the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend as he methodically applies shampoo onto his girlfriend's head, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration.

"I love you," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

His hands still for a moment before resuming their ministrations. And though you've said it plenty of times before, he can't help the wild beating of his fragile heart in response to your sincere declaration.

While words fail him, actions don't. Law pulls you into a comforting hug, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders as you lean back against his defined chest, blissful in each other's embrace.

- - - - - - - - - -

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed my writing! I'd love to hear feedback. 💖

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | part two

Part Two

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: falling in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced smut, non-descriptive

a/n: so glad you liked part 1 I couldn't help myself from continuing

word count: 3k

from the beginning

She’s laying in his bed, one of his friends showed up early and she’s pretending she’s not there. But his friend brought breakfast and it smells good and she’s starving.

After crewing the hell out of her lip and 5 minutes of hyping herself up; she gets up off the bed, still in her sweater and shorts from their movie night, and she slowly opens the bedroom door, peaking out to see if Spencer was in view.

“Hello?” A friendly man spots her, standing as he makes his way to shake her hand. “I’m Derek.”

“Y/N,” she smiles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he smiles back. “What’s going on here?” He gestures to her and then back to Spencer as he exits the kitchen and sees her.

“We watched star trek all night, if you don’t believe me I can make him recount it to you from memory?” Y/N replies, smirking like she knows him just as well as his friend.

“And how might you know Spencer?” Derek teases right back.

“He’s my best friend in the whole world,” she replies like it’s nothing, “and I live across the hall.”

Derek shoots a look at Spencer that’s almost proud, almost emotional, like a mom who heard she’s going to be a grandma, “Is that true?”

Spencer blushes, “she’s my best friend.”

“Tell me how this all happened!” Derek is more than excited, sitting down on the couch with a wide grin as he waits to hear more.

“Um, we met in the hall, we have the same interests and now we watch movies together and have sleepovers with candy and popcorn, like we’re 13-year-old girls? I’ve even braided his hair,” she avoids the real reason why they met. Unsure if Spencer has told anyone about his drug problem or not.

“And now I’m going to go finish sleeping in my own bed,” she makes awkward finger guns at the door accompanied by her most awkward smile and she’s off.

Spencer follows her out into the hall, closing the door and looking at her apologetically; “I’m sorry, I won’t tell him anything more about us if you don’t want me to?”

“Us?” She questions? “You tell me you love me a lot, but you’ve never told me who you want me to be to you… I want you to think about that and then come and see me later.”

“Can I have a kiss? It helps me think better,” he whispers as he leans in.

She rolls her eyes, playfully, leaning in as well until their lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and she wishes there could be more, but for now she has to go.

Once she’s inside, she leans against the door of her apartment and listens to see when he goes back inside. Only what she hears is even better, “Derek, I’m going to have to ask you to leave so I can go ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He shoos the man from his apartment, avoiding all his questions and convincing him to finally leave by saying, “you’ve been telling me for months that I need to get over it, and now you’re going to stand here and stop me from telling her I love her, again?”

“Again?”

“Derek!”

“Fine.”

And then he’s knocking on her door, “who is it?” She teases.

“Y/N, open the door, please?” He begs without a single regret behind his tone.

She opens it slowly, “yes?”

He tilts his head with a look that screams; ‘come on?’

But she looks back at him as if to say; ‘what about it?'

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem.”

He laughs at the absurdity, “you’re kidding?”

“Spencer, even though you’re a pain in my ass; would you like to be my boyfriend? I’m asking because the words make it real, and I would like you to really know how I feel, thanks for coming,” she extends her arm into the apartment, gesturing for him to walk in and he does so with a laugh.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he responds once the door is closed. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want this to be real?”

She can tell he’s not sure why he’s apologizing, “I need confirmation. I can’t sleep in your bed almost every night for a month, and just have to guess if I’m allowed to call you my boyfriend when my mom calls and asks why I won't text her back at night.”

“Oh,” he looks upset. “I thought that by telling you that I love you that it would work, but I understand. I really would like to be your boyfriend and be yours for however long you’ll have me.”

Her heart melts in her chest, he's so nervous and shy because he truly means it. His heart is in her hands now, “how long are you available?”

“Forever.”

“I have more questions,” she whispers as she moves closer, pressing their bodies together as she holds his sides and he holds her shoulders.

“Okay.”

“What did you mean out there, and also sorry for listening, but I’d like to know…”

“It’s okay,” his words are soft. “I’m um, a virgin?”

“Oh?” Her eyes shoot wide open, “I was expecting like an ex who broke your heart?”

“Oh no, I’ve never… I don’t... no,” he shakes his head profusely. “I’m not in a rush either, I just wanted him to leave me alone. That’s not what I’m in here for.”

She smiles, “I am too…” she whispers, “I’m really glad you are too, actually.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“Think, big brain, go back to right before I closed my door that first night…” she teases him before making a fake VHS tape rewind sound that always makes him laugh.

“You wanted to leave the group because you can’t sleep with members while you’re healing,” he smirks at his recollection, “I mean, other than the general attraction, have you thought about the possibility of that happening for us one day?”

She nods again, “one day, I’m cool just making out with you for now, actually. But yes. I would like for you to be my first because I trust you the most out of every single person I’ve ever met.”

He looks like his heart is exploding as his grip on her shoulders tightens, “I would like for you to be mine too, eventually.”

“Eventually,” she repeats with a small smile, leaning in for another small kiss.

“Derek left without his breakfast, and he didn't even get a chance to touch it yet…” Spencer whispers against her lips.

She laughs through her nose, kissing him once more before pulling away, “come on, boyfriend.”

—

She’s been in Quantico for 5 months, 3 of which she’s now spent with Spencer.

She’s laying beside him as they watch star trek and her mind is off in space. She can’t focus on anything other than the thought of her rent coming due and how she’s probably going to have to decide if she wants to leave after her 6-month lease is up.

“Spence,” she whispers, “do you know any other cheap apartment buildings in the area?”

“Why?”

She turns to face him, the yellows, reds and blues flash across the screen and illuminate him lightly, “I don’t have enough money to keep living here, and I don’t want to move back in with my parents.”

“Would you like to move in with me?” He asks carefully, “don’t feel pressured to say yes, it’s just I’m never really here and I don’t want you to leave.”

She smiles at the offer, “If I move in I have to tell the disability people, and then my disability money will change because you make so much and they still believe that men own women when they get together, like some what's yours is mine, shit.”

“Really?”

She nods, “yeah. They'll want to know how much you make every month when I get my statement and then they decide what I deserve because if you’re making money, clearly I’m taken care of, right?”

He can hear her sarcasm and he knows it's just to mask the hurt, and she can tell by the way his whole face changes.

“Wrong,” Spencer is oddly defensive. “That is so wrong, there are so many women in this country trapped with terrible men who abuse them. They never see a single dime of the money that comes in, and if they have children they are lucky to receive money for groceries. I’ve seen all of it first hand, it’s horrific, and yet they still think they can take care of disabled women who are in more need of money than anyone else?”

“I love you.”

“What?” He stops, breathing, blinking, everything. He just stares at her as he comprehends it.

She hasn’t said it back yet.

“I love you.” She repeats it and smiles, tears welling in her eyes as she appreciates how much he really does care; how much he really gets it.

“Lie, tell them you’re back with your parents. It’s not like they check-up and then just stay here. Move your things in and make this your place too, do whatever you want to it, it deserves to be lived in.”

“You’re really serious?” She’s not sure why she’s so surprised, he’s been saying he loves her every single day for the last 2 months and 3 weeks.

She’s loved him the whole time, but she’s afraid of that at the same time because once she loves him out loud, then she loves him for real and that’s scary. He has a scary job and he’s never home and if she loves him then she has to deal with that and the fact he might not come home one day.

He nods gently, “I know you need a lot of space for your art supplies so move whatever you need to to make room. I think you’re magnificent, and I don’t think that you should feel held back, I'll do anything to help you with your little craft store.”

A tear slips past her eye and towards the pillow, she blinks as she smiles, unable to speak as she just appreciates his kindness, “I think when whatever is out there made your soul, they were like 'this one; he’s special, we’re only making one of him and he’s going to go through some shit, but it’s because someone else is too and they need each other.'”

Spencer’s smile grows, large and toothy as he moves in closer to hold her. Noses pressed together, they’re hugging basically now, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled as they enjoy the moment. It’s so nice, there’s nothing left to say.

They’re content with each other.

—

She moves what she needs into Spencer’s apartment the next week, he’s out of town and it’s easier this way with him out of the way.

It’s easier to miss him in here though, everything smells like him and feels like him, and his personality is on every single wall. She wants him to come home so badly, living without him for random bouts of time was the worst part of their relationship.

The rest of her things are in boxes in her apartment, waiting by the door for when Spencer comes back. He offered to put everything in his old Volvo Amazon and meet her parents for the weekend and her mother was through the roof over it.

She has called 4 times in the last week to ask about all Spencer’s favourite meals, what he likes for breakfast most mornings and if he had any allergies. She’s cleaned the “guest” room, which was really just where she slept before, and she was very clear that he was allowed to sleep with her as long as no funny business happened.

That was the funny part.

They still weren’t doing it and she was fine with that, so was he. Neither of them was ready, emotionally nor physically. They’ve both been through some terrible things that make it very hard for them to want to share yet.

She loves him more this way, while the sex would probably be amazing and she knew they were both getting off anyway and they weren’t secretive about it, at all. They just didn’t do it together yet… and she was starting to want to.

The most they’ve done is the occasional mutual masturbation session and that was just when they were too lazy to do it when they were alone, earlier in the day, and just needed to in order to finally sleep. It was always quick, quicker than when she would do it alone because he was just so cute like that.

She found herself getting off to thoughts of him more than anything else the longer and longer they shared more and got to know each other.

Because while, yes, they live together and they’re dating; they’re still really just best friends and roommates. They don’t see each other as often as they want to, they have separate friend groups, she has meetings on the other side of town now and they’ve never even been on a date.

For how fast they looked to be moving to anyone who knew them, they were going extremely slow behind the scenes. The reality is, they were following the rules of addiction recovery more than the rules of society.

She wasn’t really ready to take on the emotional commitment of having sex with someone when she wasn’t really over her trauma. It went far deeper than just her addiction, there was more Spencer had no idea about and she wanted to make sure he knew everything before he met her parents.

So like always, they got into bed as soon as he returned and they had a cuddle conversation. It was soothing to not only feel the other person close, but they both stimmed by running their hands over something soft. He knew something was up as soon as he walked in the door and she asked for a cuddle before even saying hello.

He didn’t, however, expect the long-winded backstory of her childhood to be the issue. He was silent the whole time she explained, he cried with her as his cheek rested on her forehead and her tears fell onto his shirt below her face.

Learning his past was just as hard.

She cant imagine how no one could love him, no one took him in and offered him shelter and love and warmth. He deserved kindness and family. He was worth the world and then some to her, and it hurt so deeply to think of no one showing that to him. He’s spent the last 25 years just searching aimlessly for a single iota of respect.

No wonder he fell in love with her so easily.

—

The first time is terribly awkward but incredibly euphoric… and they cry after. Not from sadness or regret; no, they’re so in love and so happy with their choices, it’s more of an overwhelming overflowing of emotions that was bound to erupt along with them.

“This has to be the most vulnerable time in the entire world if you really think about it,” Spencer justifies why he’s crying as he starts to get anxious about being too much. “I mean we’ve already seen each other naked and know each other outside… we might as well share what's going on inside too.”

She nods against his sweaty chest, “I used to be really upset that my doctors put me on Dilaudid. I still hate that all this happened to us, but I’m really glad we don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

It gets easier the more they do it. It’s still always hilariously awkward, they were so stupidly in love it translated into every moment; like when they attempted shower sex and knocked the curtain down and got water everywhere. Or the time they attempted a quickie in the bar bathroom and his boss walked in, and they had to try not to laugh or move or do anything as they made the most awkward, silent, eye contact ever, in the corner of the stall.

Being horny and awkward was the worst combination but they made it work pretty well.

He was tender and loving and he listened to instructions well. He was a quick learner, he was happy with whatever she wanted and he always, always, tried to finish last. (He wasn’t that lucky) but he was a truly nice guy.

She loved him more and more as the seconds passed. He was just so wonderful, he had his up and downs but they always had great communication, and he understood her unpredictability from her disabilities. The best part was that he loved her regardless of how she was when she woke up in the morning, and she always went to bed with either a kiss or a text proving he loved her.

Before they knew it, a year had passed and she was laying in his bed while he got ready for work. She loved watching his selection process, his colour coordinated closet and handy-dandy tie organization rack. He was so cute, and he always looked so amazing.

“I don’t want you to go in today,” she whispers with a pout.

He takes his phone off the dresser and calls in then, “yeah, Hotch I’m really not doing well. I don’t know what we ate last night but I— yeah thank you.”

He puts everything back in the closet and crawls right back into bed, he snuggled back in close and she smiled at her job well done. He didn’t need to be at work as often as he was, he had a lot of personal and sick days stored and they were always telling him to use them. He deserved a break for that beautiful brain of his, an 8-hour turnaround between psychopaths wasn’t good for anyone, especially not the 2nd most prized possession of the FBI.

“What do you do during the day when I’m not here?” He asked, genuinely not knowing how she occupied her time outside of his presence.

“I sleep until 11,” she whispers as she snuggles in closer.

He’s warm and cuddly and perfect. Naps in the morning are possibly the best periods of sleep someone can ever experience. It’s so relaxing to reward the body with more time, and it’s even better when it includes the perfect snuggle companion.

Taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

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Nancy Drew text posts (7/?)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JVsMjdh by bethanyactually NACE APPRECIATION WEEK 2022 - DAY 1: Favorite S3 episode, season, or moment - 3.07 - The Gambit of the Tangled Souls Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Nancy Drew + Text Posts Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Nancy Drew, Ace (Nancy Drew), George Fan, Ryan Hudson, Carson Drew, Ned Nickerson, Bess Marvin Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: text posts + screencaps, Nace Appreciation Week 2022, Episode: s03e07 The Gambit of the Tangled Souls, The Drew Crew (Nancy Drew) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JVsMjdh