#this struck me while i was sleeping on my table

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ the best pillow 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men cuddling with you and laying their heads on your lap (fluff)

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The living room was peaceful, bathed in the soft golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Sylus lay stretched out on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while a book was placed in his large hands. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, as his red eyes scanned the pages with sharp focus.

The low hum of music played from the speaker across the room, a slow, soulful tune drifting through the air.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone, when you glanced down at him. “Hey, can I connect my phone to the speaker?”

Sylus didn’t look up from his book. “No.”

You blinked. “No?”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Listen and appreciate real good music, sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically. “You sound like an old man.” The comment made him smirk, but he didn’t respond, his eyes still on his book.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips.

Sliding your fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, you gently pushed them down just enough to reveal his striking red eyes. Before he could protest, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss between his eyebrows, right at the root of his nose.

Feeling his body tense ever so slightly, you knew your 'attack' was effective. Bingo.

Sylus inhaled through his nose, his grip on the book tightening just a fraction. "I'm trying to read, kitten." he murmured, his voice as smooth as ever.

But you saw the way his ears tinged just the faintest bit red, the way his fingers twitched against the page.

A giggle escaped you and you felt him exhale, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Sylus shifted, pretending to be unaffected as he grabbed his phone to check what song was playing.

That’s when you saw it. Your gaze flickered to the screen and your teasing smile softened. The playlist title was clear as day.

“Songs That Remind Me of Y/N”

When Sylus noticed where you were looking, his thumb casually covered the screen, as if that would make you unsee it.

You grinned, warmth spreading through your chest. “You big softie.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he flipped the page of his book, still looking entirely unfazed. But as you glanced down at him, you caught it—the barely-there smile playing at his lips.

Sylus’ free hand moved from your tight to intertwine with your own hand, before bringing it to his lips and plant a soft kiss on your knuckles.

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The clock struck midnight as Zayne stepped into the apartment, exhaustion weighing heavy on his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it all day, and his sharp green eyes, usually so intense, were dulled with fatigue. But despite the ache in his muscles and the relentless pull of sleep, he made his way to the living room—because he had made a promise.

And Zayne never broke a promise to you.

You were sitting on the couch, papers spread out around the couch and the coffee table, biting your bottom lip in concentration. At the sound of his quiet footsteps, you looked up.

"You're home," you murmured, a mixture of relief and concern in your voice. "Zayne, you look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he said softly, his voice gentle despite the obvious tiredness in his tone. "Let’s get this done."

You sighed, but didn’t argue as he settled beside you, his broad frame sinking into the cushions. He leaned slightly toward you, your shoulders brushing as he picked up a form and started filling it out with his precise handwriting.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. But with each passing moment, Zayne's pen moved slower, his eyes blinking sluggishly as he fought the exhaustion clawing at him.

Then, without warning, his head dipped forward before he caught himself.

You turned to him, your lips pressing together in fond exasperation. "Zayne…"

"I'm awake," he murmured, but his deep voice was quieter now, softer, laced with drowsiness.

Another few moments passed, and then—he slumped.

His head rested against your shoulder at first, his body leaning heavily into yours, before he finally slid down, laying his head on your lap with a deep exhale. His dark lashes fluttered once before his breathing evened out, the exhaustion finally winning.

You glanced down at him, your expression softening. Even in sleep, he looked serious, but there was a rare peace on his face that made her heart ache.

Gently, you adjusted his position, letting his head rest more comfortably on your lap. You ran your fingers through his black hair, smoothing it back, with a featherlight touch.

With a small smile, you picked up your pen again and continued working in silence, letting him recharge. After a while, you feel a big hand gently squeezing your leg. “You’re such a nice pillow, you know that?”

Zayne looks up at you with only one eye open and a tired but fond smile on his lips.

“Look who woke up! Hi sleepy head.” you tease him, caressing his cheek gently. “I’m almost over with these papers.”

He nodded as a small yawn escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, next time I’ll be more helpful.” he whispered softly before falling asleep on you once again.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

Rafayel stretched out across the bed, his head resting on your lap, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. The soft fabric of your sweater brushed against his cheek as he exhaled slowly, savoring the warmth of your presence. But something was missing.

Your fingers weren’t running through his hair. You weren’t teasing him with a sly remark. You weren’t paying attention to him at all.

Instead, you were glued to your phone, your delicate fingers tapping away at the screen. Occasionally, you let out a quiet chuckle, further fueling his mild irritation.

Rafayel pouted. "Babe." No response.

He shifted slightly, pressing his forehead against your lap. "Baaaabe."

Still nothing.

A smirk curled at the edge of his lips as an idea formed. He nuzzled against you, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he let out the most dramatic sigh he could muster, his broad shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated defeat.

"Are you really going to ignore your very handsome, very lovely boyfriend, who just wants a little attention?" his voice was laced with playful desperation.

You hummed absently, still not looking up. "Mhm. Sounds tragic."

Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. "Tragic?! This is abuse, beloved. I'm starving for affection."

You snorted, shifting your head the slightest to peer down at him.

“Put your phone down..” he murmured, drawing patterns on your thighs with his fingers.

He was pouting, so you followed his instructions. “Yes?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Hi gorgeous.” he smirks, as you grab his pretty face between your hands.

“You really become a brat if I don’t give you attention for five minutes, don’t you?” you chuckle, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones.

A pleased rumble vibrated from his chest as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"Yes," Rafayel declared, looking up at you with the biggest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes his irises could manage. "Because my beautiful, sarcastic, heartless partner is ignoring me."

You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. "You are so dramatic."

"And yet you love me," he shot back, smirking before going back to leaving pecks on her legs.

You feign a sigh, when you feel him playfully biting your skin.

“Ouch!” you immediately half-heartedly slap his forehead, while he laughs amused by his actions.

“Stop it or I’m gonna crush your skull.” you playfully glare at him, but he just shrugs.

“A nice way to leave this world, not gonna lie.”

He proceeded to nibble her thigh again, so you squeeze his head between your legs, chuckling.

“Now beg.” you challenge him, raising one eyebrow. But he simply cackled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your thigh. "You really think I’m gonna complain about this?"

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The door clicked shut softly and Xavier stepped inside, his frame carrying an air of quiet exhaustion. His light-colored hair was slightly tousled, his big blue eyes dimmer than usual, lost in some distant thought. He didn’t say a word.

You knew this version of him well. The one that withdrew into silence when something weighed on his mind. He was lost in his own thoughts, tangled up in emotions he didn’t know how to put into words.

So you didn’t ask. Didn’t press. Instead, you took his hand, gently tugging him toward the bed. Xavier hesitated for a second before letting you guide him, his shoulders relaxing just a little under your touch. You pulled him down until he was lying on top of you, his head resting against your lap as you softly ran your hands through his hair.

With a small smile, you let your fingers drift from his hair down to his back, as you began tracing invisible shapes against the fabric of his shirt. At first, you just doodled—little swirls, hearts, nonsense patterns—letting him feel your presence without forcing him to talk.

Then, slowly, you spelled out the words.

I love you.

A heartbeat passed. Then another. You felt his breath hitch ever so slightly, his tense shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. So you kept going, tracing a small heart at the end.

Xavier shifted, turning his head just enough so he could glance up at you, his deep blue eyes no longer clouded. A soft, almost bashful smile ghosted his lips. Then, without warning, he rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer in a way that was both shy and desperate.

His face was buried against your neck now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin. Finally, he spoke—his voice quiet, but steady.

"…Again," he murmured.

You blinked. "Again?"

He nodded against you, his grip tightening slightly. A soft laugh escaped your lips before you resumed your gentle tracing of sweet nothings and hearts.

୨ৎ── . Caleb

Caleb sighed dramatically as he rested his back against the couch, his broad frame comfortably settled between your legs on the plush carpet. Your fingers worked gently through his thick brown hair, separating strands to weave into intricate braids. Every now and then, you’d clip a tiny butterfly or flower pin into place, giggling to yourself at how utterly adorable he looked.

He loved this. The feeling of your hands in his hair, your presence surrounding him. But there was one small problem.

He couldn't sit still.

His hands roamed absentmindedly, his fingers lightly tracing over the soft skin of your thighs. The warmth of your legs bracketing him was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her knee, then another, higher this time.

You huffed, tightening your grip on his hair just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him. "Caleb. Stop moving."

He grinned. "But you're so soft" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh now. "How am I supposed to resist?"

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. "You're not supposed to try to resist. You're supposed to sit still and let me finish your hair."

Caleb chuckled, but he didn’t stop. His hands squeezed your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs in slow, teasing circles. "M’sorry, baby," he muttered, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "You're just really distracting."

"I’m distracting?" You scoffed. "You’re the one squirming like a hyperactive puppy while I’m trying to make you pretty."

"Hm..pretty, huh?" He smirked, tilting his head back against your stomach, his striking purple eyes gazing up at you. "Does that mean you're finally admitting you like playing with my hair?"

You flicked his forehead, making him laugh. "I've always liked playing with your hair. I just don't like when you make it impossible to finish."

"Okay, okay." Caleb raised his hands in surrender. "I'll behave."

"Good." You started braiding again, your fingers moving deftly through his locks. For about ten seconds, he actually sat still. Then his lips ghosted over your thigh once more, this time leaving a soft bite.

"Caleb!" He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "I tried to behave, I really did," he said between chuckles. But then he finally stopped moving around and let you finish your masterpiece. “Wanna grab something to eat later?”

“But it took me so long to make these braids.” you pout slightly, already sad at the idea of having to remove all the cute clips from his hair.

“Who said I’m gonna take them out? Everyone needs to see what an amazing job you did!”

[moonstruckme]

Hello icon ✨Could we have a poly!wolfstar x reader where she thinks that they are mad at her for something (or they could actually be a bit miffed) and it just a bit of hurt comfort with cuddles and kisses at the end😔🙏🏻

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re being weird. 

The three of you are doing a puzzle, which usually captivates your attention but never Sirius’, which is how he’s so very aware of how little attention you’re actually paying to the puzzle. You keep glancing at Sirius, at Remus, like you’re nervous about something. You’ve been like this all day. It’s in and out, sometimes waning like you’ve forgotten to be anything but normal, but Sirius has a keen gauge for tension. He can sense it every time it ticks back up.

You’re pretending to look for sky pieces, though Sirius suspects you forgot what color the sky in your puzzle was a while ago. He feels like you’re building to something, and it makes his skin itch. Remus is too absorbed in his tree bark pieces to notice—the nerd—so it’s up to Sirius to get it out of you. Luckily, James has always said that Sirius is a master of tact. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You were halfway to sneaking another glance at him, and you react as though you’ve been struck, jumping a little where you sit on the rug by the coffee table. “What? Nothing.” 

“Well, that was very believable.” Sirius smiles to take some of the bite out of it. “Come on, you have me on the edge of my seat. What’s got you all worked up?” 

“I am not worked up,” you insist, though your expression says otherwise. 

Remus appears confused, but he notices your guilty eyes as well. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say again. 

“Clearly something,” Sirius counters. 

Your lips press together, corners downturnt. You’re not looking at either of them.

“Hey.” Sirius softens his voice. “What is it? You’re freaking me out, babe.”  

This only seems to distress you further. “I wanted you not to freak out,” you say.

“Sweetheart, about what?” Now Remus sounds worried too, though the look he gives you is more patient than anything Sirius could ever manage. He ducks his head to catch your gaze. 

After a moment of looking at him, your shoulders droop. “Okay.” Your voice has quieted. “Just a second.” 

Sirius’ anxiety ratchets as you stand, going down the hall towards your room. 

“Why does it feel like she’s going to bring us back a school report?” he murmurs to Remus. 

Remus shakes his head, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No idea.” 

When you return, it is with papers, though Sirius doesn’t at first know what they are. 

“This came this morning,” you say in that same resigned voice, laying them down on the coffee table as you sit back down next to Sirius.

With Sirius and Remus on opposite sides they can’t both read the text at once, and Remus picks them up first. Sirius spots you bringing your hand to your mouth and reaches for it silently, drawing it away before you can start chewing your fingernails. Your nervousness is making him nervous. He pushes his thumb up the lines of your palm. 

“Oh,” Remus hums. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, in a tone that clearly communicates if somebody doesn’t start talking I’m going to throw a wobbly. 

“It’s the gas bill,” says Remus. He’s making his old man face, where he leans away slightly and squints like he needs glasses. Ordinarily Sirius would tease him for it, but he’s not in the mood. “Bit high.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. 

Sirius looks at you. Frowning, your hand still trapped in his. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Is this…” One glance at Remus, and it’s clear Sirius is now the one lagging in understanding. “Is this because you left the oven on?” 

Your expression says enough. 

Oh, well. In fairness, Sirius had thrown a bit of a wobbly over that. 

It was weeks ago. You made cookies just before bed. They were warm, gooey, the perfect precursor to sleep and an excellent excuse, in Sirius’ opinion, to trade chocolate-flavored kisses until all three of you were snoozing on your pillows. It hadn’t been until he and Remus were making breakfast the next morning that Remus smelled the gas. You’d come out of the bedroom, confused, to find them throwing open windows and calling the fire department for advice. Your gas oven had been left on all night. 

You felt awful. Your boyfriends gave you an appropriate amount of shit for it, but it was only thoughtless, not malicious. Your apartment hadn’t blown up. The smell drifted away within a few minutes, and in all honesty Sirius was left feeling a bit bad that what began as you trying to make them all happy had resulted in you being so thoroughly chastised. But it had been let go. 

Until now, evidently. 

“I can pay it,” you offer meekly. “The difference, or all of it.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his brow. “Dove…” 

“Let me see that.” Sirius reaches with the hand not holding yours. Remus gives it to him. He finds the total quickly. “This isn’t even that high.” 

Okay, it’s a bit high. But genuinely, Sirius was expecting worse. 

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. 

“Baby, is this what you’re all wound up about?” Sirius sets the papers down to gawk at you. “Really? I thought something happened.” 

You’re shrinking, your hand tense in his. “Something did happen.” 

“Yeah, a whole month ago!” 

“Sirius,” Remus murmurs, in a tone Sirius knows to mean you’re not helping. He asks you, “Did you think we would be angry with you?” 

Spiderweb cracks spread through your expression. Your mouth wobbles. 

“Oh, you absolute moron.” Sirius grabs for you with both hands, hauling you into his lap. 

“Pads.”

“You ridiculous, sweet idiot.” He kisses your head. Once, twice, three times. “Why’d you have to go and get all worked up? You got me worked up, silly thing.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly. 

“Alright, that’s enough apologizing,” Remus says gently. Underneath the coffee table, a socked foot bumps into Sirius’ leg before presumably finding yours. Sirius grins. Remus is tactile in the oddest ways sometimes. Like a cat. 

He loves you both so very much. God, you really had him going. He feels liable to squeeze the life out of you. 

He satiates the urge by kissing you all over your face until you look significantly less upset. You look at Sirius with tentative relief, the beginnings of a smile curled up in the corner of your mouth. 

He’s about to ask you again how you could be so stupid, but Remus speaks first. Probably for the best. 

“It really won’t be so much more for each of us once we split it,” he says, looking again at the bill. 

That guilty look is back on your face. Sirius gives you a squeeze in hopes of banishing it. “I can get it,” you say. “It wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t been so…if I hadn’t left the oven on.” 

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Remus tells you. “It’s all right.” 

You fidget. “I feel like you should probably be angrier with me.” 

“We already have been angry with you,” Sirius points out. “We got over it. Time to move on, babe.” 

“It was a mistake.” Remus’ gaze is steady. Knowing. “It was scary, but it happens. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for us, lovely.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

Sirius scoffs. “I can be angry without anyone’s help, thank you.” Then, at your wary look, “But I’m not angry about this.” 

Slowly, the tension Sirius has been sensing seeps out of you. You relax in a way you haven’t all day long. 

Remus notices, too. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, in a soft, fond voice. “Talk to us next time, okay?” 

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sheepish look. “I was going to. I just really thought you’d be upset.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius kisses your head, sharing an eye roll with Remus. “Shows what you know.”

[formulafanfics13]

Her Daddy, Always - LN4

masterlist

Summary: Lando makes his first solo breakfast outing with his newborn daughter, stunning the F1 grid and reducing fully grown men to puddles over baby squeaks and gummy smiles. Later, on the beach, the boys finally meet you — the mystery woman who captured Lando’s heart — and realise the truth is even more powerful than the rumours. You’re not a witch. You’re real, radiant, and the centre of Lando’s entire world.

Warnings: heavy emotional intimacy, parental themes, fatherhood, soft D/s (implied through care and protection), group awe at vulnerability, male characters crying/emotionally overwhelmed, baby obsession, subtle worship of motherhood, gentle domestic fluff, themes of legacy and devotion. No sexual content — but deeply intimate and heart-melting, with a focus on love, family, and awe-struck masculinity.

It started like every other lazy Monte Carlo morning: too much coffee, too little sleep, sunlight bleeding down white buildings and onto the café terrace the drivers had practically claimed as their own.

But this time, oh, this time, there was something different.

Lando was coming. And he was bringing her.

Not you, although you'd helped. You'd gotten up first, kissed him awake, packed the bottle, changed the nappy, triple-checked the emergency dummy. But it was his idea to take her alone. His first solo daddy-daughter breakfast debut. Just him and the tiny little chaos gremlin who had made him cry five separate times in the past month, for reasons that included her smiling in her sleep and sneezing while dreaming.

So when he walked in, baby strapped to his chest in a butter-yellow carrier with an oversized hoodie barely zipped up around both of them, the entire table stopped talking.

Charles blinked. "Oh my God."

Pierre made a strangled noise. "That's not legal."

Oscar clutched his chest. "He's wearing her."

Lando strolled in like he hadn't just detonated the collective minds of the grid. His curls were a mess. He had one sock on. A milk stain across the shoulder. But none of it mattered, because the way he looked down at her? The way his hand never left her back, even through the fabric? That was love. Raw, stupid, unapologetic love.

"She just fell asleep," he whispered, easing into his seat like the slightest motion might wake her. "Be chill."

"She's so tiny," Charles whispered.

"She's so perfect," Lando replied, already pulling the muslin cloth up to shield her face from the morning sun. "Isn't she?"

The baby, all six weeks of her, swaddled in peach cotton and a beanie that still slumped sideways, was nestled directly against his chest, cheek smushed into his hoodie, lips slightly parted.

And when Lando adjusted the strap to cradle her better, she let out a soft, squeaky sigh.

"Oh my God," Oscar whispered. "She made a noise."

Pierre was practically vibrating. "She squeaked. She squeaked, Lando."

"I know," Lando said, looking at them like they'd just discovered fire. "She squeaks when she's comfy. It's her thing."

Charles leaned across the table. "Can I-can I see her face?"

"Gently," Lando warned, shifting his body slightly so Charles could peek without disrupting anything.

He peeled back the muslin like she was a holy relic. And there she was, pink cheeks, pouted lips, her little fists curled like she was winning a fight in her dreams.

Charles melted instantly. "She's an angel."

"She's you," Pierre added. "She's got your nose."

Lando grinned. "She has her mum's eyes, though."

He said it softly, but you could hear the awe tucked into the syllables. You weren't even there, and still, he was talking about you like you'd just invented light.

"She looks at me," he continued, "like I hung the stars. I can't breathe when she does that."

Pierre looked alarmed. "You okay, mate?"

"No," Lando said cheerfully. "I'm in hell. I haven't slept in four days. I cried at a Pampers commercial. She shat on my lap and I said thank you."

Everyone howled.

But Charles wasn't laughing, he was still staring. "She's moving."

Sure enough, the baby let out another soft coo, lips twitching. And then, miracle of miracles, her eyes cracked open. Right onto Charles.

She blinked once. Twice. And then... gurgled. Loudly. Lando froze. "Did she just-was that-"

"She's smiling at me," Charles said in disbelief.

And she was. Wide gums, gummy grin, her hand waving like she'd just recognised her favourite TikTok sound.

Lando's jaw dropped. "What the fuck."

"Hi, sweetheart," Charles whispered, reaching out one pinky like she might grab it.

"She's flirting," Oscar said, scandalised.

"She's mine," Lando growled.

"She likes me!" Charles beamed.

"She's SIX WEEKS OLD," Lando snapped. "She doesn't like anyone."

"She smiled at me."

"That's gas."

"Mate, she literally just-"

"She smiles when she farts too, Charles, don't get cocky."

But it was too late. The table had entered full meltdown mode. Charles was practically crying. Oscar tried to get a selfie. Pierre attempted to hold her and was immediately denied.

"Not happening," Lando muttered, clutching her like she might evaporate. "She just fell asleep again. If she wakes up and cries, you're all dead."

They settled. Eventually. And Lando just sat there, holding his daughter, swaying slightly even while seated, like his body had learned the rhythm of fatherhood without permission.

He looked down at her again, brushing a curl from her forehead, eyes dark with something sacred.

"Hi, angel," he whispered. "Still dad's girl, yeah?"

She didn't answer. Obviously. She didn't need to.

*

It started as a normal beach morning. Sun blazing. Sand burning. Oscar already applying SPF 50 like his life depended on it. Pierre shirtless too early. Charles refusing to take off his jewelry. Carlos insisting he could light the grill without help.

They were all there, towels, coolers, snacks, Bluetooth speakers. Full summer boy energy. But underneath the sunglasses and flip-flops, the same conversation kept coming back.

"Can we just talk about it?" Pierre asked finally, cracking open a cold drink.

Charles raised a brow. "Talk about what?"

Pierre gave him a look. "Lando."

Carlos groaned. "Again?"

Oscar perked up. "No, I'm into this. Go on."

"Lando Norris," Pierre declared, waving a hand, "has a whole-ass daughter. Like an actual human infant. A baby. And we've only met the girlfriend once. At that preseason dinner. For like twenty seconds. I don't even remember her name."

Charles nodded slowly. "I remember her dress. That's it. Something pink."

"I think she was pregnant then," Oscar added.

"Exactly!" Pierre threw his arms up. "He didn't say anything! Just showed up six months later with a baby! And now he won't stop talking about her like he invented fatherhood."

"He's obsessed," Charles agreed. "In a scary way."

Carlos shrugged. "He's in love. Let him be."

Pierre shook his head. "No, you don't get it. He cried the other day because she hiccuped. He showed me a video."

"I saw that video," Oscar muttered. "I cried too."

Charles leaned back on his towel, sunglasses slipping. "It's just weird, right? Like we've known him for years. And now he's got this entire life, girlfriend, baby, stroller that costs more than my car, and we don't even know her."

"Yeah," Pierre said, voice softer now. "Like... what if she's a supermodel? Or an alien? Or, like, a witch who trapped him with her magic uterus?"

Oscar blinked. "I think you need to go lie down."

Carlos was squinting toward the beach entrance. "I think you're about to get your answer."

They turned. Lando had arrived. And he wasn't alone.

First came you, hair up, sunglasses on, long linen shirt over your bikini, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and baby wipes sticking out of the top. You looked calm. Radiant. Real. Not a mystery. Not a spell. Just his.

Then came Lando, shirtless but still wearing the baby carrier, his daughter tucked into the front like a kangaroo joey, a bucket hat shielding her eyes. He was balancing a cooler with one hand and a stuffed elephant with the other.

He looked like a dad. A hot one. But a dad. The boys collectively stopped breathing.

"Hi, guys!" you called out, smiling.

Max's jaw dropped. "She's normal."

Charles blinked. "She's real."

Pierre whispered, "She's beautiful."

Oscar mumbled, "And she's smiling. Like, she knows she's got him."

Carlos leaned over and hissed, "Don't say anything weird."

Lando walked right up, all grin, curls windblown. "Hey, lads."

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, and then, carefully, pulled the baby out of the sling and into your arms.

You cradled her automatically, pressing a kiss to her tiny head, before turning to the group with a shy smile.

"Hi," everyone said in weird, hushed unison like they were meeting royalty.

"She's beautiful," Charles said, still staring at your daughter like she was glowing.

"Thank you," you laughed. "She's six weeks now. Sleep thief. Absolute queen."

Lando beamed. "She smiled at me twice this morning."

"Bro, she smiles at everyone," Oscar said, already inching closer. "Can I see her?"

You nodded, adjusting the blanket. The baby blinked up, cheeks round and pink, tiny hand flexing toward the sky.

"She's got your face," Pierre said to Lando. "Like, exactly."

"She has her attitude," Lando replied proudly. "She glares when I leave the room."

"She has boundaries," you deadpanned.

Lando turned to you, eyes soft. "Want to lie down for a bit? I can take her."

"I'm okay," you said, brushing his arm. "Let them meet her properly."

And they did. One by one, each of them held her like she was made of gold. Charles got the first smile. Oscar got a tiny sneeze and nearly passed out. Pierre tried to take a selfie and got kicked in the chest by a baby foot.

"She's everything," Carlos whispered to you while Max held her gently. "And you, how are you?"

You smiled. "Tired. Grateful. In love."

Lando overheard, turned, and grinned at you like you'd just given him a second daughter.

By the end of the afternoon, she was asleep on your chest under a parasol, Lando curled around you both, one hand protectively over her tiny feet, sunglasses tilted down his nose.

Charles turned to Pierre, voice quiet. "She's not a witch."

"No," Pierre agreed, still staring. "She's just magic."

[kasagia]

Secret affairs

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x fem!grisha! reader Summary: Rumours and whispers are circulating in the Little Palace that General Kirigan has found himself a mysterious woman with whom he spends his nights. One morning Ivan learns that the rumours are true. Fedyor will not rest until he finds out who their Black General's new lover is—who is the one who makes him much less grumpy. Requested by: @drinix (I AM SOOOO SOOO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME AGES! BUT I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, HONYE!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤) Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

One morning, Aleksander sips his coffee and looks through the reports Ivan has just delivered to his desk. He has a meeting with his colonels in a few minutes, and he's struggling with his lack of sleep. At least this time, he has a better reason to stay up late than answering letters and planning new battle tactics.

He smiles, remembering the night he spent with you. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the thought of you beneath him. How you trembled at his every little touch, the sweet sounds you made as he struck your most sensitive spots with pinpoint precision, how wonderful you looked sprawled out on the bed, a clean, quivering mess as he tasted you to his liking…

"Forgive me, General, but I can't find your kefta." Ivan's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Aleksander absentmindedly picks up the reports again, knowing full well that he has to read them before he goes to any meetings, and, ignoring Ivan a bit, mumbles under his breath, asking him to repeat what he just said. "I can't find your kefta, sir."

"My kefta?" Aleksander repeats, surprised. Ivan has never had any problems with this simple task before. Suddenly he remembers why his heartrender can't find his keft. "I must have left it at hers." Aleksander mutters under his breath, unaware that he is saying it so loudly that Ivan can hear him.

Heartrender frowns and stares at his general in shock as he casually takes his reports and heads to the main war room for a meeting.

As soon as Ivan enters the room, he meets the questioning gaze of his beloved. Feydor immediately notices how pale and nervous Ivan has become and that his heart is beating a little faster. He decides to ask him what happened. And a few hours later, Ivan confirms to Feydor the rumours that have been circulating in the Little Palace.

General Kirigan had a secret affair.

"I can't believe it! Him?" Alina's whisper reaches you as you sit down at the table right next to Fedyor.

"Who are we gossiping about? The healer who almost broke a bone in one of the Inferni yesterday while so-called healing?"

"No. Ivan couldn't find the general's kefta this morning. And when he told him, he mumbled that he must have left it at HERS. Do you understand? At HERS. HER. SHE. A WOMAN."

"Yes, Fedyor. I understood at first time when you said it." You laugh at his excitement about this new rumour.

"No you don't! You don't know what it means if you are not at least as interested and excited as me or Alina." Fedyor informs you in a very serious way.

You roll your eyes at his foolish behaviour and looks at Aleksander who is coming into the great hall. In his black kefta.

"No way! It must be someone from the Little Palace! Look at him, he is wearing it now! Someone had to give it to him." Fedyor whispers conspiratorially to the three of you, staring at the general.

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused when the man quickly feigns interest in his food as Aleksander's gaze falls on the three of you. He nods at you and leaves the room.

"Sorry, duties." You say and take an apple from the table. "Try not to interrogate everyone around you about the general's new beloved. She may get embarrassed or scared and leave him and he'll become a pain in our asses again." You tease him and leave him and Alina to discuss this new revelation.

You walk quickly through the hallway of the Little Palace, practically running after Aleksander. You burst into his war room and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

You moan softly, surprised by the suddenness of his kiss. You tangle your hands in his hair and hum against his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pinning you against the door. You’re breathless as he practically devours you, drinking in all your moans and whimpers of pleasure as his large, strong hands caress the cheeks of your ass.

"I was thinking about it since I left your side." He mumbles, pressing small kisses to your jaw. You sigh, digging your hands into the collar of his kefta and pushing him away from you with a heavy heart, but you have to get the message across to him before you get lost in each other again.

"You have to be more careful. Fedyor got something out of Ivan and knows you have a mistress."

"So you are my secret mistress now?" He asks, chuckling against your neck. You bite your lip as his beard teasingly grazes your neck, plump lips nipping at your skin.

"Call me that again and you will be comming back from my chamber to yours all naked." You growl, but your threat carries little fear as Aleksander begins to unbutton your own kefta.

"You wouldn't dare..." He mumbles against your skin and all you can do is tug on his hair in retaliation as he traces his marks across your collarbone and moves lower, approaching the valley between your breasts.

"So sure?" You gasp, trying your best to remain intimidate to him, but it is a challenge when his fingers work so smoothly in undressing you.

"Uh-huh." He mumbles and kisses you again, this time more forcefully than last time, making your legs buckle slightly. He holds you tightly by the waist and lifts you up, navigating through his room and laying you on his bed, which is filled with books.

"I... um... sorry. I should have cleaned up here." He mumbles to himself and throws the books to the floor in his haste. You laugh at him and grab his arm.

"I don't mind... besides it will be quite hard to explain why you suddenly clean your rooms without any suspicion about this new lover of yours." You tease him with a smirk, but he doesn't seem to share your good humour at all.

He's lost in thought, stroking your cheek with his thumb thoughtfully and not responding to your teasing, just staring at you sprawled beneath him, shadows slowly creeping out of his control and draping over the foot of the bed.

"Shouldn't we... make this official?" He asks, staring at you with those night-dark eyes of his. You shiver, surprised by his question.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and control your slight panic attack as he continues to stare at you, waiting patiently waiting for your answer and searching your face carefully for any reaction.

"What for? That's... quite a comfortable... deal we are in. Besides, I don't want them to talk that I am your second-in-command just because I slept with you. And I thought you liked that our relationship is strictly private and well... not to anyone's eyes?"

"Yeah... yeah, I do. You probably are right. Having you in the darkness is much more entertaining than in the daylight."

You know from the way he frowns slightly that this isn't the answer he was expecting. But if anything, Aleksander is a pathological people-pleaser. So he doesn't say anything about his true feelings about the secrecy of your relationship and instead leans in for a kiss.

Which subconsciously makes you feel incredibly guilty.

"Come here... let me help you relax, moi soverenyi." You moan against his lips and straddle him, deciding that this afternoon you will serve your general.

But no matter how many kisses you press into his skin, how many marks you leave, or how many times you make him moan your name, you still feel a burning feeling of guilt inside.

You try with all your might to focus your attention solely on giving him as much pleasure as possible, but your thoughts involuntarily wander to his proposal. You weren't ready to show the two of you to the world yet. You weren't ready for the judgemental looks from others. You'd rather everything stay the way it was. Just you and Aleksander, your little secret, stole kisses and nights between each other's sheets.

You were completely happy with that. But as you can see, your Sasha wanted more.

And you weren't entirely sure if you could give it to him now.

You wake up blissfully aching. Aleksander's shadows float across his bedroom, obscuring the entire room, blocking out any sunlight. You turn your gaze to the man whose chest your head rests on.

You smile, watching the sleeping shadow summoner. It's rare to see him so... calm, rested. Unable to stop yourself, you run your hand along the line of his jaw and gently cup his bearded cheek. You stroke it with your thumb, drinking in his appearance, enjoying every tiny hickey you've left on him.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, slowly, unhurriedly, enjoying the softness of his lips and the roughness of his beard. Kissing him had always been a surreal feeling for you. Sometimes you couldn't believe that you could actually press your lips against his and declare your claim to the most powerful Grisha that existed.

You feel him start to wake up as the kiss continues. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly by the waist, rolling you so you're straddling him as he kisses you passionately, hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, feeling his manhood press against you as if last night hadn't worn him out.

You run your hands over his chest and slowly settle yourself on him. You sigh as the head of his cock slowly opens your soaked walls. It feels so good and so damn full, as you settle yourself completely on him, as you become one. You bite your lip and hold your breath as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into your back.

"Y/N..." He murmurs into your ear and kisses his lobe. You sigh, feeling him perfectly fill every little space of you.

"Morning." You gasp as he pushes you onto your back, hovering over you. He sucks hickies on your neck, mumbling quiet good mornings against your skin as he lazily thrusts into you.

You wriggle and moan beneath him, trying to press yourself as close to him as you can. There’s no space between you as he claims you with every thrust, destroying you for any other man. You sigh as he presses his lips to yours, kissing you possessively, stealing your breath with each deep, hard thrust into you.

He trails his kisses down your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he caresses your lips. You moan his name loudly as he suddenly sucks onto your breast.

He smiles evilly against your skin. Aleksander revels in the way you dig your nails into his shoulders as he works tirelessly to please you. He loved seeing you like this. Hair tousled against his black sheets, eyes closed from the rush of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet moan of his name when all you could think about was him. That was when you felt truly his. And it was a pleasant change for him to know that someone belonged to him, that he owned someone. It was just a shame he couldn't claim you in the sunlight as well.

A sudden movement in the war room makes you both freeze. Aleksander stares at his bedroom door and instinctively raises his shadows, causing them to wrap around the two of you defensively.

"General, we got a report from the west border with Fjerda..." Fedyor's voice trails off in the realization as the heartrender realizes he hears two heartbeats in Darkling's bedroom. Two fast heartbeats. "I... um... should I come later?"

"Preferably." Your lover responds, still on his guard.

You listen for Fedyor's footsteps and sigh in relief as he walks away. You laugh uncontrollably, which earns a soft chuckle from Aleksander. His heart heats up as he watches fondly as you laugh beneath him at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh my dear saints. He's going to be so determined to find out who you're hiding under the sheets."

"Yes... probably." He replies. You frown thoughtfully, but you quickly distract yourself when he moves again. You moan, biting your lower lip and digging your fingers into his arm as he reaches deep, hitting that weak spot inside you that sends tingles throughout your body. "But you'll manage, right, milaya?"

You nodded, unable to utter any coherent sounds. He smiles pure evil and continues to pound into you at a punishing, rapid pace. You bite your lip, almost drawing blood as you try not to moan his name too loudly in the darkness of his chambers.

Yep... you definitely loved your stolen mornings with him.

A few hours later, you smile to yourself as you pack your things. Due to suspicious activity by the Fjerdans on the border, Aleksander decided to go and see for himself what was going on. You were supposed to be on the lookout for Morozova's stag.

Despite the sudden events of today, you couldn't just forget about the morning spent with him. The thought of it made you blush, and a smile appeared on your lips. Lost in thoughts about the shadow summoner, you didn't even register when Zoya entered your room with a packed backpack.

"Oh saints, you had sex!" You jump suddenly at her excited squeal and stare at her like a deer caught in the light of a hunter's torch.

"I beg you pardon?"

"You had sex! You're glowing, relaxed, and oh my, you're blushing like a teenager! Who's that? Do I know him? Handsome? What order is he from? Or maybe it is she?" She bombards you with excited questions. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting to watch her wicked smile as she settles on your bed, staring at you intently.

"I... have no idea what are you talking about."

Before you can somehow defend yourself from her accusations, you are interrupted by a knock on your door. Fedyor enters with his things, all excited, with Ivan hot on his heels.

"Y/N, you won't believe it! He really does have someone! You have to tell me if you saw anyone in the corridors leading to his quarters last night when you were leaving his chambers after the night briefing. Remember every detail, I need to know everything."

"Y/N had sex with some mysterious lover." Zoya briefs Fedyor before either of you can add anything to the man's long rant.

Ivan raises a surprised eyebrow at you, silently analysing the information in his head. You see the gears turning in his head, and as he connects the dots—as Alexander's closest confidant after you—he blushes. You shake your head slightly, staring at him as Fedyor and Zoya exchange gossip. He swallows and nods silently. You note it as a problem for later and turn your gaze to the two excitedly gossiping Grisha.

"I can't believe it! You too?! Who is it?! With your busy schedule with Kirigan, I didn't think I'd have time to find anyone, but here you are. Is it that handsome inferni? The one who's going on the mission with us and has been hanging around you for ages?"

"I… would prefer to keep my… boyfriend's privacy for now. It's a quite new thing, we're… testing if we're a good fit." You stammer, explaining yourself, knowing full well that you can't deny these two for long. They would have known the truth anyway. You're terrified of the moment when they realize that you and Aleksander are something more.

"Oh, I understand that perfectly. Ivan and I went through the same thing, right, honey?"

"Yeah..." Ivan mumbles thoughtfully and continues to stare at you in shock. However, Fedyor is too lost in his conspiracy theory to pay attention to his significant other's behavior. For which you silently thank the saints above.

Eventually, you all gather up and head for the stables. Zoya and Fedyor mumble something to each other in the front, and you and Ivan follow. You decide that this is a good time to approach him and ask for discretion.

"You know, don't you?" Ivan stares at you for a moment, then nods silently. You swallow hard, nervously playing with the sleeve of your kefta. “Listen… can we keep this between us? I… I doubt it’s a good idea to talk about all this now. He doesn't need to have such rumours running about us in the Little Palace."

Ivan nods at you, agreeing with your words. But you can see that something is bothering him. For a moment he grits his teeth in silence, but then he mumbles under his breath, barely audible.

"He seems… less tense. Less worried." You blush along with him. You clear your throat and turn your gaze to the walls of the corridors you pass, thinking of a… neutral response to his observation.

"I... I guess he is."

"I think… I want to say… it's good that he has you." You look at him in surprise, almost tripping on the exit steps as he says this. The blush deepens on your cheeks as you think about what he told you. "Everyone needs their own Fedyor."

You smile, seeing his gaze on his other half. And perhaps for the first time you see that they actually fit together, and Ivan is worthy of your best friend. You wonder involuntarily if Aleksander looks at you like that when you don't see...

"Yeah... I think you are right. Thank you, Ivan. You are a good friend. For both of us. Well, mostly to him." You say, referring to Aleksander. Ivan nods in silent agreement.

This strange harmony between you seems to be going strong. You are united by one goal. The good of your shadow summoner.

The four of you reach the stables. Alexei - the inferni, who as Fedyor mentioned was supposed to join your mission and had a crush on you quite openly, runs up to you quickly. But your eyes and attention are focused only on the general. Or rather, on the general and his sun summoner, as other Grishas maliciously called it.

Your blood boils, a strange feeling of jealousy hits you like a hunter's shotgun hits an animal, and you can't even do anything about it as Alina is clearly flirting with him. All you can do is stand there and try to swallow the bile of jealousy with dignity as Alina adjusts the collar of Aleksander's kefta. He somehow senses your burning gaze on him, but you quickly turn away and mount your horse without even waiting for his reaction.

He's lucky you're not official yet. And that it'll be hours before you can calm down before you can talk to him in private. But you're starting to understand why keeping your relationship a secret no longer works for the Black General. Especially when you see the way his jaw clenches when you laugh at some joke of Alexei's, causing the young inferni to give you lovey-dovey puppy eyes, to which you wink back.

You may have been cruel, but the knowledge that your lover was as jealous of you as you were of him calmed you down a bit and lifted your spirits. And if by any chance you made sure that Alina rode with you and away from Aleksander during the journey, that wasn't intentional at all. Not at all.

"So... Ivan knows." Aleksander comments as you lay in his tent, wrapped in his arms.

Ivan stood guard over your small camp while the rest slept. You decided to take the opportunity to sneak in on your shadow summoner to share the revelation. And maybe just a little to steal a few kisses and hugs from him.

"Indeed." You mumble, playing with his fingers that are slowly dripping shadows.

You bring one of his fingertips to your lips and press a small kiss there, which makes Aleksander's heart melt even more for you. He tightens his grip around you and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his bearded cheek on it with a small sigh.

"Well... sonner or later Fedyor will figure it out too. It's just the matter of time."

"Maybe... that's why I want to enjoy you in privacy for as long as I can." You prop yourself up on your elbow and lean in to steal a quick kiss. You pull away from him with a smile, but you frown, not finding any of the malice in his eyes that he would normally have at this gesture. Something was wrong.

"Y/N... Don't you think that's enough? We've been going around each other for a long time. I think the rest should know about us." A cold shiver runs through you at his words.

You try to control your heartbeat, but you know perfectly well that you are no longer able to hide your emotions from him so well. He knew you as well as you knew him.

He knew that you were not exactly keen on making your relationship public. That is why you cannot lie and pretend that it is not so. You have to convince him to change his mind somehow... but how?

"But it's so sexy to have you all to myself, a secret from everyone. Don't you love the thrill every time we sneak around each other for a kiss or something more?"

"I like that. But I don't like that I can't hold your hand outside the four walls of our chambers. I don't like that I can't go up to you and kiss you when you look so lovely after training with Fedyor or Zoya. I don't like that I have to watch others flirt with you and touch what's mine. I don't like that I can't make your cheeks blush in front of others. I don't like that I can't look at you for as long as I want without suspicion. I don't like that I can't play with your hair during particularly boring council meetings. I don't like that I have to hide the fact that I love you."

His confession hits you harder than any punch Baghra had ever given you during training. You swallow hard and kneel down next to him, watching him carefully as you try to process what he’d just told you.

"You... love me?"

"I do. And if it is not enough for you to make it public... I don't know if I can go on like this anymore. I don't know if I can keep my trembling hands from reaching for you in the light of day, not just in the darkness of night or my shadows. I need more. I need all of you, Y/N."

You stare at him, utterly shocked by his sudden confession. His words both overwhelm you and warm your heart, but it's not enough to quell the panic rising within you.

Because as much as you want to be his, as much as you want him to be yours, you know that the members of the Second Army won't look so... favourably on your romance. Besides the public opinion... you're afraid that once the thrill of excitement and mystery wears off, Aleksander's feelings for you will fade dramatically and he'll realise that you're not a good match at all and that Alina would be a better choice for him.

"I... it's hard for me... to give you an answer now." You mumble, watching anxiously as his brow furrows, face darkening as he retreats back into his shell and tries to hide his true emotions from you.

"I thought it should be easy. You either want me or not."

"I want you." You respond quickly, reaching out for his arm in panic and holding it in a tight, almost bruising grip. The desperation on your face makes Aleksander sigh with relief inside. You cared. That was for sure. So why do you hesitate for so long and postpone the inevitable?

"Then why do you insist on keeping us hidden?"

You don't answer. You know he'll think your uncertainty about his feelings is baseless and pointless. You think it's stupid. But you can't escape the overwhelming feeling that the moment your romance stops being a tightrope, his feelings for you will burn out like a candle. And you really wanted to keep him by your side.

Your silence, however, is not what he wants. Or something that could help you stop him. He nods silently and stands up from your makeshift bed of blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I'll take guard duty for Ivan." He replies emotionlessly. You swallow nervously and sit up, following him with your eyes as he puts on his black coat as he is giving you a cold arm.

"Aleksander." You whisper with a pained tone in your voice. He stops for a moment and gives you a long, haunted look. He sighs and shakes his head at your silence and walks out of the tent, leaving you alone.

The lump in your throat grows and tears well up in your eyes. You close your eyelids and lift your head, taking a few calming breaths. You fucked this up. Not for the first time, but this time you really hoped you wouldn't get cold feet and that you'd somehow stifle that little voice in your head that had always questioned your worth.

Because you felt you weren't worthy of Aleksander. Yet for some twisted reason he thought you were perfect for him. Maybe this time you should take a chance and trust him? Trust that at the end of the day he'll decide you're enough and that you don't have to be a Sun Summoner to be his equal?

After a while, you stand up unsteadily and walk to the tent flap. You glance through it and freeze when you see Alina and Aleksander talking quietly by the fire. She says something to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, but instead of moving away from her touch, he seems to cling to her and answers her with one of those smiles that make your knees weak. You feel a painful stab in your heart. As if scalded, you jump away from the tent flap and lie back down in the pile of blankets.

You bury your nose in the material that has soaked in the scent of the Shadow Summoner and close your eyes as tears freely flow down your cheek and soak into the black fur. A hundred dark thoughts, doubts, and different scenarios in which Aleksander leaves you for Alina go through your head, and to be completely honest, you don't blame him. She was a real sun. How could you possibly compare to her? You were stupid and naive to think that he would stick to you when he could have her.

The only comfort you find is that at the end of your crying, when you had no more tears to shed and were only shaking uncontrollably, Alexander came back. He came back and practically silently laid down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. He sighed quietly and ran his thumb over your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were the most important thing in his life, and he couldn't let you slip through his fingers.

You don't make a move, don't give any sign that you're awake. You spend the rest of the night half-awake as you try to memorize the way Aleksander holds you, the way he still wants to come back to your bed at night.

Because something tells you that this state of affairs won't last long.

"Just as I thought, you look adorable even after a week of horseback riding and searching for a group of Drüskelle." Alexei compliments you as you and Zoya return to camp after scouting. You let out an uncontrollable laugh at this, amused by the absurdity of his flirting, and join the group sitting around the campfire.

"It's a pity I can't say the same about you." You say spitefully and accept from Aleksander, who is sitting next to you, a stick with a fish that Fedyor and Alina had caught earlier. Aleksander takes another stick with a raw fish and starts roasting it again. Everyone else laughs at your remark, even Alexei.

"You'll see, one day I will melt your cold heart." You roll your eyes at this. Zoya, sitting next to you, hits your arm in amusement.

"Come on, Y/N. Tell us about this secret lover of yours. Maybe it will cool Alexei's ardor."

Fedyor perks up at Zoya's words and nods enthusiastically, while Aleksander, sitting next to you, tenses slightly. You see that his knuckles have been clenching around the stick since Alexei began his flirtation with you. You fear his further reaction to this conversation, which is heading in a rather dangerous direction.

"You have a lover?! Who beat me to it?" Everyone around you laughs at the exaggeratedly hurt tone of Inferni's voice and the way he dramatically aimed his fishing rod at you. You smile involuntarily and shake your head, trying your best to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks.

"Thanks for your concern, or rather curiosity, but my lover and I would rather keep our privacy. Besides, I can't talk about him left and right without his consent."

"Maybe it wouldn't bother him at all?" Aleksander comments, not looking at you, instead focussing his attention on the fish in the fire. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your chest when he won't even look at you. The bitter feeling of guilt resurfaces within you, and you wonder how the hell you're supposed to fix what you've broken.

"Exactly! I don't care what you want, I wanna meet this guy who is the best sex you've ever had!" Zoya comments, practically making you choke on your own saliva and freeze in embarrassment.

Everyone around the fire is laughing at this and asking you snide questions about your mystery lover's… prowess. You glance briefly at Alexander and almost punch him in the arm when a smug, dark smile appears on his face. And from the mischievous glint in his eyes, you know he'll only put the final nail in the coffin of your embarrassment.

"The best sex you've ever had, you say?" He asks, amused, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lower lip and slam your shoulder into his, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall over the log. He laughs at your feeble attempt at attacking him.

"Oh, piss off." You snap at him but he just reaches over and ruffles your hair with his hand. It's only the deafening silence around you that makes you realize you've done something… wrong.

Everyone stares at Aleksander in shock, as if waiting for him to yell at you for overstepping his bounds, but he doesn't. You see genuine shock and surprise on their faces. Before your general can say anything, you take over, trying to save the day.

"What? Haven't you ever seen two good friends banter?" You sneer at them and nod at their sticks. "Your food will burn if you sit there with your mouths open and stare at us much longer."

Somehow your words disenchant them. They go back to their usual joking, teasing demeanour, and the camp buzzes with their conversations again. You glance at Aleksander, and you can see from his face that he doesn't like the way you've handled this. You know this was the perfect opportunity to admit you're together, but after what you saw last night—the way he acted with Alina—you got too scared to tell them. If they all didn't know you were together, maybe his inevitable departure would hurt less?

You flinch as your secret lover sitting next to you suddenly takes the stick with the fish out of your hands.

"You'll burn it if you stay in your tangled thoughts any longer." He grumbles and takes the fish off the stick. You see he's completely abandoned his in favor of preparing your meal. You nod with a smile as he hands you a slice of bread and seasons the fish with the spices you brought with you.

Unconsciously to you, someone's eyes are watching the two of you closely.

Aleksander thrusts the food under your nose. You instinctively lean forward and bite into the offered sandwich, used to him feeding you, most often in the late hours of the night, when you both sit in the war room and spend time planning new tactics. You glance around quickly, but fortunately the others are too busy with themselves to notice. Or so you think.

"You're going to burn your own fish." You notice and take your food from him.

He's holding his stick back, and you decide to give him a bite of his before he gets his food. After all, he practically made you yours. You make sure no one notices and feed Alexander. He hums and brushes his lips against your fingertips before licking them teasingly. You sigh and punch him in the arm, to which he just grins wolfishly at you and winks.

You feel warm just from your playful exchange. And as the darkness grows deeper, you reach for Aleksander's hand and hold it tightly, shielding it with the hem of your coat. You smooth your thumb over the back of his hand, laughing at the stories Zoya tells. Aleksander seems much less tense, and a little satisfied, when you hold his hand tightly in yours.

And while you think no one has noticed, they have. Or at least one of them has.

At some point, Aleksander gives you his coat, insisting in a quiet conversation between you that you'll freeze and get sick if you don't take it and that he'll be fine because he's survived winters much worse than this one, and with much thinner clothing.

Your heart aches that he's had such an experience, but for the sake of peace, you take the black coat from him. You blush when he whispers that when he gets back, he'll make sure David makes you one that matches his, so everyone knows you're his.

And when he presses his lips to your forehead to check that your body temperature isn't too low for his liking, Fedyor awkwardly reveals that he's been watching you.

"Saints, Fedyor!" Alina squeaks in panic as the heartrender somehow loses his balance on the log and almost falls into the fire.

He hadn't leaned any closer to hear what you were whispering, and he hadn't nearly fallen into the fire in shock when he was the only one to notice their general's affectionate treatment of you. Not at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him worriedly and kneel down next to him.

Fedyor swallows, trying hard not to show that he noticed the way Kirigan's gaze softens when he looks at you. He was such an idiot. How could he not have noticed that before?

"Yeah... yeah, I am fine. I should probably just go to sleep. Ivan?" Fedyor calls his beloved.

He helps him up and leads him to their tent. Before he can ask even one question about his well-being, Fedyor blurts out:

"Did you notice that Y/N and general are... very close?" Ivan at first seems not to react to his words. Fedyor only realises, through the very slight acceleration of his heartbeat, that perhaps his partner knows something more about... the unexpected connection between his best friend and the Black General. "Ivan... do you know what I think you know?"

"What do you think you know?" Ivan clears his throat awkwardly as they both enter their tent.

"Oh saints, you know right?! How long?! Was it that obvious?!"

Fedyor's mind flashes back to a million moments when your feelings for each other were painfully obvious. He remembers how Kirigan would let you playfully tease him, how he would always make sure you weren't overworking yourself and were eating the right amount of meals, and how he would look after your well-being. Hell, the general even delayed your trip to the fold because you were sick with a cold from your recent trip to Kertch! And he had behaved like a jilted, angry, resentful lover during those months! It was so painfully obvious that Kirigan was head over heels in love with you... but were you? Or was it just a passing fling? Fedyor had to know more.

"That's why we shouldn't get involved and let them decide for themselves… Fedyor, honey, where are you going?" Ivan asks confused as his other half runs out of the tent.

Fedyor throws a quick see you later over his shoulder and runs to your tent hoping to find you there so he can have a serious talk with you.

And fortunately he succeeds.

"You told Ivan, and you didn't tell me?! I am your best friend!" Fedyor shouts at the entrance to your tent. You stare at him, holding the report the falcon just delivered to you in your hands, as you are trying to understand what he means. You blush as you realise what he could be so angry about.

"I… since when did you…"

"Oh please. You've obviously been like this the whole time. I'm a fool for not making the connection. It's literally written all over his face that he loves you. What about you?" Fedyor sits on your blankets. Your palms are sweating and you put the reports on the ground, wondering how the hell you're going to get out of this situation now.

"I… it's complicated."

"Love is quite complicated. Maybe that's why you gave Alina a deadly look a few days ago when she was practicing her powers with the general? And you snapped at her, giving her a completely traumatic tantrum when she lost her sword?"

"I… it wasn't intentional and you know it." You mumble, blushing even more, but this time with embarrassment.

"It's a simple question Y/N. You either feel it or you don't. And from what I see, you probably also… reciprocate. Although it's clear that he fell much harder."

"You think?" You ask with a smirk, unable to help yourself at his comment. Fedyor nods and stands up. He walks over to the shadow and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Yes. And believe me, I don't blame him. If I didn't play for the same team, or didn't have similar tastes as you, it would be really hard for me not to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I know. We'd be a great couple if you weren't gay." You laugh at him and pull him into a hug. "But don't tell Ivan or Kirigan that."

"Sure. We don't want to upset our grumps, do we?"

Your laughter is the first thing Aleksander hears as he approaches your tent. He opens the flap with one finger and sees you standing in Fedyor's arms, laughing. A cry of jealousy and a sudden need to take you in his arms and hide you from the other man pierce his mind for a moment, but he calms down, reminding himself that Fedyor... is no threat to him. At least not romantically.

"Can I interrupt?" He asks and goes inside. You step away from Fedyor and nod at him.

Fedyor nods at him and leaves, throwing you a mischievous wink over his shoulder. Alexander notices this and connects the dots rather quickly. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his chin on your shoulder.

"So I guess he knows?"

His hot whisper against your ear makes you shiver. You burrow your face into his chest, nuzzling his neck as you wrap your arms around him in an equally tight embrace. Maybe Fedyor is right? Maybe when you know… you just know?

"Yeah... At this rate soon the entire Little Palace will know."

"Do you mind?" He asks uncertainly, expecting his words to hang in the air and for it to take you a while to respond with another excuse.

But you decide to bet on the truth. Show him all your cards and the same vulnerability he has for you. It was going to be everything or nothing and you knew you couldn't put it off for long. Not if you didn't want to lose him.

"Partly. I... I am afraid that once it will stop being a secret affair you will... loose your interest in me. I mean... look at me. I am not Alina." You laugh nervously and try to hide your face in his black kefta. Aleksander is not having that. He gently takes your middle and forces you to look into his dark, beautiful eyes.

"I don't want you to be Alina. I don't want you to be anything else but you, Y/N. I love you as you are. Heartrender, healer, sun summoner, inferni or whatever else, I don't care. I care about you. The way you make me feel. The way you hold me. The way you kiss me. I want you for what you really are. Not for the power you hold. Not for anything other than you."

You can barely hold back the tears in your eyes. Instead, you just nod and lean in to kiss him softly. You melt, as always, at the softness of his lips, the way he gently cups your cheeks in his hands and holds you like you're the most important thing in his life, like he can never afford to lose you. And you hope it stays that way forever.

"You damn manipulator how can I say no after that?" You gasp as the kiss ends and he rests his forehead against yours. He chuckles deeply and envelops you in the tight, warm, safe embrace of his arms.

"You can't." He mumbles against your temple and places a tender kiss there. "You are all mine. As I am yours, milaya."

And you have to say, his words have never felt more true, as he kisses you with a passion unlike any other men. You only hope that he secretly draws 'mine' on your skin for the rest of your life… not just in his shadows and the darkness of the night.

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter one

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You get some life changing news, and telling Billy doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, angst

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N:

Yay a new series! I’ve been dying to write for Billy again. I hope you guys like this, your comments and support mean the world to me.

When Billy had arrived at Hawkins High for the first time, roaring into the parking lot in his blue Camaro and wearing the tightest jeans known to man, he had caught the attention of every girl in school.

Including you.

You weren’t exactly…popular. Actually, you were considered a freak. Best friends with Eddie Munson and proud member of the Hellfire club, you caught a lot of shit from your classmates. You knew from the second you saw Billy Hargrove that you never had a chance.

You had never been more surprised to be wrong.

You knew Billy had a reputation for going through girls like crazy, sleeping with them and leaving them high and dry. Yet you still found yourself falling for him. And when he approached you and asked you out, you said yes embarrassingly fast.

“Asking you out” ended up being a late night trip to Lover’s Lake, making out before moving into the backseat and letting him fuck you. That might sound crude, but there was no better way to describe it. It certainly wasn’t making love.

Your late night visits with Billy became a regular thing. It was kept quiet - Billy didn’t tell anyone, and he acted like he didn’t know you at school. The only person who knew was Eddie, because he was your best friend in the world and you told him everything. He did not approve, but he wasn’t about to tell you how to live your life. He was just scared you’d get hurt.

Which, of course, you inevitably did. But we’ll get to that.

You held out hope that one day Billy might see you as more than a secret hookup, that he might take you out on an actual date and show you off at school, but you knew those were just dreams. Deep down, you knew Billy was embarrassed to be seen with you. He showed up at Hawkins High and became the most popular guy in school - he wasn’t about to let anyone know he was secretly sleeping with The Freak.

This routine worked out for a while. That is, until you had the realization you had skipped your period while you were throwing your guts up before school one morning. Ice cold fear struck into your heart, and you realized you had really fucked up.

That day you went to school looking nearly as bad as you felt. Carol Perkins giggled as you passed her in the hallway, whispering something to Heather Holloway. You had too much on your mind to care. Billy gave you a strange look when he saw you, but didn’t say anything.

You found Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant at your usual spot in the cafeteria. You walked over and took a seat, not even bothering to get anything to eat because it would just come back up anyway.

Eddie did a double take when he saw you. “Jesus,” he said, taking in your messy hair, bloodshot eyes and melancholy expression. “What happened to you?”

The other guys were deep in conversation about the latest campaign. You leaned closer to Eddie. “I skipped my period. And now I’m getting sick.”

Eddie just blinked at you. He looked like he didnt understand - you saw the moment the realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking down at the table. “Oh, shit.”

“Did you…take a test?” Eddie whispered, leaning in closer to you.

“No.” You picked at a loose string on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I figured I would go to the doctor so I don’t fuck it up.”

Eddie looked around the cafeteria before his eyes landed on you again. “Do you want me to take you?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “You would do that?”

Eddie smiled. “Well, yeah, of course. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna make you go alone.”

You felt relieved to hear that. This was scary enough without having to go through it all alone. “I don’t know how I would have even made it there by myself without alerting my parents anyway.”

“Eddie Munson chauffeur, at your service,” he said with a bow. You snorted.

“Thanks, Eds.”

That evening after school you rushed home before your parents could get there and picked up the phone. You dialed the number for your primary care doctor’s office with shaking hands and made the appointment, not telling the receptionist over the phone what it was for. You figured you’d deal with that when you got there.

The next day passed in a blur. You looked presentable at least, but you had to leave class twice to go throw up in the bathroom. Billy gave you a concerned look when he saw you in the hallway again, but you ignored him.

After school you met Eddie at his van. He opened the passenger side door for you - “My lady,” he said with a dramatic bow - before jumping in the driver’s seat and starting up the old vehicle. You noticed Billy watching you from his Camaro where he waited for his younger sister.

Eddie blasted music over the radio while you drove. It made you feel better because you weren’t in the mood for conversation. The butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you could throw up again. You took deep breaths as he drove to keep the nausea under control. Eddie always drove like a maniac.

He pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, some older ladies standing by their cars giving you a dirty look as the van tore into the parking lot blasting Metallica. Eddie didn’t notice.

He walked with you into the office, taking a seat in the waiting room while you went to reception to check in. You gave the receptionist your name, and she handed you a clipboard and pen and told you to take a seat.

The questions on the forms were standard. Your personal information, health history, medications, etc. By the time you finished with it, a nurse was opening the door and calling your name. Eddie squeezed your knee before you stood, letting you know he was here for support and would be right where you left him.

The nurse had you do the usual tasks - your weight and height, pee in a cup, and they took some blood samples. You waited in the exam room for the doctor, kicking your feet as you sat on the tall table. You felt more like a child than you had in the past few years.

When the doctor walked in carrying a clipboard and saying your name, you felt like you could throw up for the millionth time. He looked at you solemnly, and you knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“Your pregnancy test came back positive,” he said. “Based on your bloodwork, I would estimate you at about 6 weeks.”

The room spun around you. You suddenly felt way too hot and claustrophobic in this tiny room. You wished you had asked Eddie to come back with you. You felt incredibly dizzy, like you could pass out. This was not happening. It was not happening.

“You’ll need to start taking prenatal vitamins,” he continued, oblivious to your internal panic. “I’ll give you some brochures with information and resources.”

You left the doctor’s office with a handful of pamphlets on pregnancy, birth, babies, and motherhood. Your face was white as a ghost, and Eddie clocked it the second you walked back into the waiting room.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing as you approached him and wrapping you in a tight hug. The tears fell as you buried your face in his chest. He stroked your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out. You’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie helped you walk back out to the van on shaking legs. You couldn’t stop the tears now. Your life was over. Billy was never going to want to stick around for this.

Oh, god. Billy.

You didn’t even want to tell him. It was going to be a disaster. He was already embarrassed for anyone to know you were hooking up, but for the whole school to know he had gotten you pregnant? He would never allow that.

You were on your own.

Fuck.

You wanted to skip school, but your parents weren’t buying the “I’m sick” excuse. Of course it was the one morning you weren’t throwing up everything you’d eaten the night before. You got yourself together as much as you could, dressing yourself in a band tee and your favorite ripped jeans.

Eddie stayed by your side as much as he could at school. He met you in front of the school and walked you inside to your first class. You were grateful for his support.

It was halfway through first period when the nausea hit you again. Your hand shot up, asking “Can I go to the restroom?” and then sprinting out of the room before you even got a response. You barely made it to the bathroom in time, locking yourself in a stall and falling to your knees as you threw up.

When you were done, your eyes were watering. You grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your face, flushing the toilet and standing up shakily. You straightened your clothes and unlocked the stall door, walking out into the bathroom.

Only to see Carol Perkins, of all people.

She gave you a smug smile, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Hope you feel better, Freak.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past her back into the hall, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, the voice in your head telling you this is very, very bad.

You were surprised that nothing seemed to come of it as you moved on to your next classes. By the time you went to lunch, you were wondering if maybe she just kept it to herself for once.

That bubble was popped by Gareth Emerson.

The second you and Eddie placed your trays down at your usual spots, all the boys looked up at you. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all looked at you with pity, which made your stomach twist into knots.

“…What?” You asked hesitantly, your blood running cold.

Gareth looked at Eddie, then back to you. “Uh…Carol Perkins is telling everyone you’re pregnant.”

If you weren’t already nauseous, you certainly were now. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your hands gripped onto your tray tightly as you tried to focus and calm yourself, but it wasn’t working. Your breaths were coming in shorter, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

The feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing your arm brought you out of it. His rings were cold against your skin, grounding you to reality. Your reality wasn’t that great, though.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not…true, is it?” Gareth asked, his eyebrows raised.

You burst into tears. You couldn’t help it. You covered your face with your hands, crying your eyes out. This seriously could not be happening like this. You knew it would come out eventually - I mean, you could only hide it for so long - but you weren’t ready for it now. You’d only had one night to wrap your head around it yourself.

“Oh god,” Gareth said. “It is true.”

Eddie pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back and giving Gareth a dirty look over the top of your head. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed into his shirt. “Everyone knows. That means Billy’s heard. The whole school has heard. My life here was shitty enough, this is a whole other level.”

“Wait, Billy?” Gareth said, exchanging a look with Jeff and Grant. “Billy Hargrove?”

Eddie gave him another look. He stroked your hair, the soothing gesture helping to calm your racing heart. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Billy flicked the ash off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. He leaned against his car, talking with Tommy Hagan. He was just about to leave when Carol came walking over, smiling like she knew something they didn’t.

“Hey baby,” Tommy greeted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Have you guys heard?” Carol asked, like she couldn’t wait to say whatever she knew. Billy wasn’t particularly interested, dragging on his cigarette one more time.

Tommy took the bait, however. “About what?”

When it was your name that came out of Carol’s mouth, it grabbed Billy’s attention fully. He glanced up at Carol nonchalantly, but he was listening intently.

“What about that Freak?” Tommy asked with a laugh.

Carol giggled. “She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up in the bathroom during first period.”

Billy felt sick to his stomach. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his boot. “No way that’s true.”

“Why?” Carol asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Billy.

Because you would have told him, right? And he always used a condom. There was no way. “That Freak? No way she’s getting any action.”

Carol and Tommy laughed like Billy had said the funniest thing they’d ever heard. “I don’t know though,” Carol said, “Tina said she’s been running out of class to go to the bathroom all week. She’s definitely knocked up. It’s probably Munson’s. Two freaks in love.” Carol giggled, and Tommy started laughing again.

Billy forced himself to laugh, but nothing was funny. He wanted to throw up himself. “Hey, I left something in my locker. I’ll see you guys later.” He pushed off his car and walked back into the school.

He had to find you. He had to find out what the hell was going on.

You closed your locker as you got the last book you needed for your homework. You had waited until most of your classmates had left, the hallway deserted. The looks from your classmates all day had been enough. You shoved your stuff into your backpack, preparing to leave to meet Eddie at his van.

As you were walking down the hall, the doors opened and you saw Billy walking towards you. You felt like turning and running the other way. As he reached you, he nodded towards an empty classroom.

You thought about ignoring him, about leaving and letting Eddie take you home and maybe transferring schools and never seeing any of these people again. Instead, you followed him into the classroom.

Inside the empty room, Billy was pacing, running his hand through his dirty blonde curls. Your stomach hurt as you closed and locked the door behind you. When you reached him Billy spun on you, his eyes wild.

“Are you pregnant?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not how you wanted him to find out. You thought you’d have more time, time to think about what to say and how exactly to break the news. Fucking Carol Perkins.

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes to look at Billy.

He looked horrified. “You’re- it- it’s…mine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

Billy let out a rush of air. He started combing his fingers through his mullet again, pacing back and forth in front of you. “I- we- there’s just no fucking way. I used a condom every time.”

“Condoms can fail, Billy-“

“Bullshit,” he said. “I mean, yeah, but it’s so rare. There’s…there’s no fucking way you’re- pregnant with my kid.”

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with,” you reminded him, your voice small. You knew you weren’t the only girl he slept with. “And I went to the doctor. They did blood work. I’m definitely…pregnant.” The word was still hard to say.

Billy shook his head. “You- this is fucking insane. I’m not raising some kid.”

Your stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” he breathed out another rush of air. “I’m not doing this. Whatever you want from me, I’m not doing it. I’m not ruining my life to raise a kid.”

The tears welled up in your eyes. “So you’re saying you’re abandoning us.”

Billy scoffed. “‘Abandoning.’ I have more to live for than this. I was gonna…I was gonna get out of here.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was gonna get the fuck out of this shithole town. I was gonna go back to California. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’ll give you money for an abortion, I’ll take you to get it, whatever. But I’m not doing this.”

And with that he left, slamming the classroom door behind him and leaving you alone.

The tears really fell then. It was worse than you imagined. You were really all alone in this. Just you…and your baby.

On your own.

tag list

@rincallistis

[nottivagos]

notti's nightly thoughts (18+)

an: going to be honest, i don't really know what this is. i'm sleepy 😔

it wasn't uncommon for lando to miss you whilst he was away racing. he knew he couldn't bring you to every race, and he respected that you had other aspirations and responsibilities away from supporting him at races. but god did he need you now.

it wasn't like a regular craving that he could shake away with a quick scroll through some pictures of you together, no, this was different. it was the kind of desire that he did prepare for, but never knew could actually happen. he needed to hear you. desperately too.

he'd been trying to get himself off to some odd voice notes here and there for a while that evening, but it wasn't enough. he needed to hear your voice again, and craved to even be told what to do by you.

in an act of desperation, he called you, not expecting you to answer. it was an ungodly hour for you at home, so he wasn't getting his hopes up for anything, but luckily he'd struck gold.

you stirred from your sleep, groggily turning over to your bedside table to see lando's name lit up on your phone. lethargically answering the phone, you croakily spoke into the microphone, wondering what your boyfriend's reasoning was for calling you at such an ungodly hour.

when lando answered, his voice was already a little breathless. his cock was half hard as he rested topless on his large bed in his hotel room, one hand just aimlessly tracing over his bulge whilst the other held his phone in his hand.

"you sound a little breathless," you asked out of concern. "you alright, lan?" you asked with a genuine concern, "you don't sound very well," you added with your eyebrow raised.

"me? oh, i'm alright babe," he laughed off, fisting himself through his boxers. "just got a little bit of a cold that's all," he mumbled, closing his eyes as he continued to rub up and down the now painfully straining cock in his boxers.

with a hum, you shrugged it off. you started to talk, rambling about things going on at home, blissfully unaware of lando pleasuring himself to your voice. lando's hands came to nearly rip his boxers from his body, letting his angry red cock bounce free onto his lower stomach, tip leaking with salty pre-cum.

lando continued to stroke his length as you continued rambling, thumb smearing the pre-cum down his length, whilst his curls fell on his pillow as he tilted his head upwards in pleasure. his mind was hazy, high on not only the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but the ecstasy of hearing your voice after so long apart.

losing any self awareness, lando let out a short whine, biting his lip to try and suppress it as much as possible, but failing miserably. your eyes widened in realisation, stopping what you were saying mid conversation to question what the hell lando just did.

"why did you just moan?" you asked bluntly and directly, adjusting yourself upwards on your bed.

"n-no!" lando exclaimed, grip hard on his twitching length as his froze, hot blood pumping through his veins. "why the hell would i moan?" he tried to laugh off, but you weren't having it.

"are you touching yourself to the sound of my voice?" you asked rather bluntly again, but lando could sense the smirk plastered on your face from his end of the line.

"why would i do that?!" he blurted out sheepishly, trying to lie through his teeth but failing miserably. "i'm not touching myself," he denied again, "i just-, i just missed your voice, okay?"

"aw, that's cute," you mumbled, "but i'd bet you'd need me to tell you what to do, wouldn't you? i bet you're so lost without the sound of my voice in your ear," you trailed off as lando grabbed his throbbing cock, thrusting the fleshlight around it so it fitted ever so snugly.

"please," he whined stupidly, phone now discarded to the corner of the mattress. "i need you," lando panted, pleading nearly as the breath was sucked out of his lungs in the breathless gasps escaping his lips.

"tell me what you want me to do, baby. i'm all yours," he added, biting his bottom lip at the feeling of the fleshlight fitted snugly around his throbbing length, making him a mess. but god did you revel off of that.

"yeah?" you asked, "you're all mine, are you?" you hummed with a devilish excitement flurrying in your insides. "why don't you let me hear those pretty little noises that you make whilst you tell me how you're feeling, hm?"

"fuck," he panted, fisting his cock with the toy. "it's just-," he stuttered, tears forming in his eyes as he continued to jerk himself off, "i just need to feel you- inside of me, and i can't-," he cut himself off as he whimpered, biting down on his hand to suppress a moan mixed with a sob.

"oh, it's that bad, huh?" you cooed, "you really miss me that much, lando? aren't you such a sweet thing," you murmured, voice laced with venomous sweetness as you felt your panties become wet from hearing lando's moans vibrate through your phone's speaker.

"if i cum please just promise me that you'll come to my next race," lando breathed as his hips rolled in a haste rhythm whilst thrusting the toy harder onto his cock. "that's all i ask," he added, before groaning, "fuck-, i'm close."

"oh you're close?" you hummed with a raised eyebrow. after a moment of pondering, listening to lando's moans grow louder and louder, you answered, "alright, i'll come to your next race," giggling before adding in a sultry mumble, "come for me, lando."

salty tears streamed down lando's face as he let out a guttural moan, hot spurts of come painting the inside of his fleshlight. the sticky white trailed down his length, painting the inside of his thighs as he panted, coming down from his high.

"good boy," you praised as lando whimpered, chest heaving. "that feel better, lando? i bet it does, doesn't it," you murmured into the phone with a sadistic smile on your face.

"now turn on your camera," you commanded, "i want to see what pathetic mess my stupid boyfriend made on his toy thinking about me." <3

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Slinky the Snake||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count — 924

Summary: Lando’s afraid of snakes. Y/N has a snake. Love’s about compromise, right?

A/n it’s 3:30am and I’m finally over the stomach bug and now I can’t sleep mostly because I’ve slept all day.

The first time Lando stepped into Y/N’s apartment, he was struck by how cozy it felt. Plants hung from the windows, books lined the shelves, and her couch looked so inviting that he immediately imagined sprawling across it.

But then he noticed the terrarium. “Uh… what’s that?” he asked, already feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread building in his chest.

Y/N, who was halfway to the kitchen, froze. Slowly, she turned back toward him. “Oh, um, that’s Slinky’s home.”

Lando blinked. “Slinky?”

Y/N hesitated, debating whether to dodge the topic or dive right in. Finally, she sighed, crossing the room to lift the lid of the terrarium.

“Slinky’s my snake.”

And there it was—a ball python, small and unassuming, poking his head out from under a log. Lando’s eyes went wide, and before he even realized it, he’d taken several large steps back.

“Wait… you have a snake?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her tone defensive but calm. “He’s my pet. And before you say anything, he’s harmless.”

Lando’s face was a mix of disbelief and mild horror. “Harmless? That thing eats live mice! How is that harmless?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He’s a ball python, Lando. He doesn’t even have venom. He’s basically a noodle with a face.”

“A noodle with a face,” Lando repeated flatly, looking at the snake as though it might launch itself at him at any moment.

“Look, you don’t have to love him,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But… you like me, right?”

Lando’s gaze snapped back to her. “Of course I do.”

“Then give Slinky a chance. Please?”

Fifteen minutes later, Lando was sitting stiffly on Y/N’s couch, eyeing the snake now draped over her shoulders like a scarf.

“He’s not gonna bite me, right?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not unless you smell like a rat,” Y/N teased.

“Not funny, love.”

Y/N chuckled, reaching up to gently stroke Slinky’s head. “Relax. He’s just curious. See? He likes you.”

Slinky was stretching toward Lando, his tongue flicking as if trying to taste the air around him. Lando, meanwhile, had his hands gripping the couch cushions as though they might save him from a sudden snake attack.

“I don’t think ‘like’ is the right word here,” he muttered.

Y/N leaned back, giving Lando some space. “You don’t have to touch him today. Just sit with us for a bit. Baby steps.” Lando nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

The next time Lando came over, Slinky decided to make himself the star of the show. While Y/N cooked dinner, Lando kept one wary eye on the snake, who was exploring the coffee table. At one point, Slinky nudged Lando’s phone, flicking his tongue against the screen.

“Uh… he’s touching my phone,” Lando called out.

“He’s playing with it,” Y/N replied from the kitchen.

“Playing or trying to eat it?”

Y/N walked in just in time to see Slinky knock the phone off the table. She picked up the snake and laughed. “He’s just being clumsy. He gets like this sometimes.”

Lando watched as Slinky managed to tangle himself in a lamp cord, looking entirely unbothered by his predicament.

“Should we… help him?” Lando asked hesitantly.

Y/N shook her head, untangling the snake with practiced ease. “He’s fine. He’s like a toddler—always getting into trouble but too cute to stay mad at.”

Lando frowned, watching as Slinky made a beeline for Y/N’s arm, curling around her wrist like a bracelet. “Yeah… I’m not seeing the ‘cute’ part yet.”

After weeks of awkward encounters with Slinky, Lando finally decided it was time to face his fear.

“Okay,” he said one evening, standing in Y/N’s living room. “I’m ready to hold him.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You sure? No pressure.”

“I’m sure,” Lando said, though his hands were already clammy. “Just… don’t laugh if I scream, okay?”

Y/N grinned, gently lifting Slinky from his terrarium and walking over to Lando. “Alright, hold your hands out like this,” she instructed, demonstrating the proper way to support the snake.

Lando mimicked her stance, and she carefully placed Slinky in his hands.

“He’s heavier than I thought,” Lando murmured, his voice tight.

“Yeah, but see? He’s just chilling.”

Slinky curled lazily around Lando’s wrist, flicking his tongue in a gesture that Y/N swore was friendly.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes locked on the snake. But when nothing bad happened, he exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay… this isn’t so bad. He’s kind of… soft?”

“Exactly!”

Y/N stepped back to snap a picture, and Lando immediately glared at her. “Don’t you dare post that.” Lando says as they settled on the couch, Slinky slithered across Y/N’s lap, eventually draping himself over Lando’s legs as well.

“You know,” Lando said, glancing down at the snake, “he’s not so bad. I think I might even like him.”

Y/N smirked. “Just wait till he tries to hide in your hoodie.”

“One step at a time, love. One step at a time.”

[c4shm0neyxxx]

This idea just came to my head late last night and I just had to write abt it✋🤧 I have no word besides Stockholm Syndrome 😐

—————

“Glass Cage”

Weak Hero Class 2 — Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | dark romance, psychological themes, Stockholm Syndrome

⸻

You don’t remember the car ride.

Only the cool press of a cloth over your mouth and the sickly sweet smell that made your head spin before everything turned to black.

When you woke, you weren’t in your apartment anymore.

No familiar city sounds. No buzzing from the hallway lights. Just silence and pinewood. And a room too soft to be a prison.

Cream-colored walls. Velvet curtains. A vanity filled with designer makeup you never owned. The sheets were ivory, silky, tucked just right under you. Your clothes had been changed. You were wearing a cotton-white nightgown, frilled at the hem, delicate. Expensive.

The door had been locked.

⸻

The first time you saw him after the blackout, he entered with a tray.

Homemade soup. Rice. A few side dishes. All warm. All made with care.

Geum Seong-je stood in the doorway like he belonged there. No mask, no pretense. Just his usual cold eyes, half-lidded and unreadable. His knuckles were bruised, lip still healing from a recent fight. But his voice?

Low. Gentle. Like it didn’t match his body at all.

“I didn’t drug you too hard,” he said. “I was careful.”

You hadn’t screamed. Just blinked at him. He tilted his head.

“I gave you a nice room. You should eat.”

You hadn’t moved. He sighed through his nose and set the tray down at the vanity.

“You’ll get used to it. Most things are better when you stop fighting.”

⸻

That was three weeks ago.

You don’t remember how many times you cried in those first days. How many times you pounded your fists on the door until they were red, screaming into nothing.

He never raised his voice. Never struck you.

He just… watched.

Sometimes from the door, sometimes from the chair in the corner, right near your bed. When you slept, when you faked sleep, when you cried under the blankets. You could feel him.

Sitting. Watching. Breathing.

Not touching.

Just… there.

His presence was terrifying. But it wasn’t cruel.

The worst part was how soft he was when you broke. When you finally, in some twisted survival reflex, took the soup from the tray and ate without looking at him.

That night, when you laid down, he spoke softly from the chair in the corner:

“Good girl.”

⸻

Now?

You wait for him.

Like clockwork, 7PM, he opens the door and steps inside, carrying whatever he’s made in that kitchen upstairs you’ve only seen once — when he carried you down the first day.

Tonight it’s grilled mackerel. You recognize the smell before the tray even comes into view. Steamed eggs and spinach. He places the food in front of you on a lace cloth.

You sit perfectly still in the white velvet chair, hands folded in your lap.

You watch him.

Your eyes trace the shape of his hands as he sets the chopsticks down. You like his hands. His shoulders. The way his mouth twitches slightly when he concentrates. He cooked for you.

He always cooks for you.

“You’re staring again,” he says, dryly.

Your voice is a whisper, reverent:

“I like watching you.”

He glances up. There’s something unreadable in his face. That same stillness he always has, like nothing in the world surprises him.

“You didn’t say that before.”

“I didn’t feel it before,” you say truthfully.

He nods once. Then sits across from you, on the other side of the small round table he brought down here “for dinner time.” You both eat in silence.

Later, you sit on the edge of the bed while he folds your laundry with surprising care. No washing machine in this basement, but you know he brings the clothes back fresh, pressed and warm. They always smell like pine and clean linen.

You admire how meticulous he is. How steady.

“Why me?” you ask quietly.

He stops folding. Glances at you over his shoulder.

“You smiled at me once. After school. In the alley, remember?”

You do remember. Vaguely. You were with your friends, maybe laughing. He was leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand, all sharp lines and danger. You looked at him.

You smiled. Polite. Nervous. Nothing special.

But it stayed with him. Burned into his memory.

“You smiled like I was normal,” he says.

You nod.

You get it now.

This place isn’t a prison. It’s a shrine.

You’re the prize in a little glass cage he built from obsession and need. And the more you submit, the more he softens.

The princess treatment isn’t a game — it’s worship. You are the delicate thing he stole from the world to keep whole, in a world where nothing stays pure.

And you feel… safe. Cared for. Possessed.

You crawl into bed before he turns off the lights. He doesn’t always stay overnight. But tonight, he sits in the chair again, arms crossed, eyes glinting faintly in the dim lamp glow.

You roll onto your side, facing him. You can see the outline of his form through your lashes.

“You can come closer,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move, but his voice is soft:

“If I do, you won’t sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A pause. Then, the faintest breath of a smile in his voice:

“You’re learning.”

You don’t fall asleep.

You lie on your side, fingers curled loosely against the pillow, and listen to him breathe in that chair. Still. Quiet. Watching.

Like always.

But tonight feels different.

There’s a pull. A heat under your skin that doesn’t come from fear anymore. You want him closer. Want to know what it would feel like if he touched you without restraint.

“You don’t sleep either, do you?” you murmur.

His voice answers from the shadows: “I sleep fine. When I know you’re okay.”

That word again.

You.

Like the only thing in the world worth keeping intact.

Your eyes flutter open. “Come here.”

A pause.

“You sure?” he asks, low and unreadable.

You nod. Slowly. The silence thickens like fog in the room.

Then — the creak of the chair. The soft whisper of footsteps on the carpeted floor. You barely breathe as he approaches, stopping at the side of the bed.

He doesn’t touch you. Just looks down.

But you reach out first.

Fingers curling into the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, tugging. “I want you to lay down.”

He doesn’t hesitate after that.

He slips beneath the covers, fully clothed, body warm and firm beside yours. You shift instinctively into his side, your cheek pressing to his chest. His heartbeat is solid, slow, like a metronome. It soothes something frantic inside you.

“I shouldn’t,” he murmurs against your hair.

“But you are,” you whisper back.

His hand slides up your back — gentle, cautious, reverent. Like he’s afraid of breaking something precious. You tilt your face up.

“Do you really just watch me sleep?”

He doesn’t look guilty. He never does. Just honest.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He turns slightly, eyes catching yours in the dim light.

“Because you’re the only good thing I’ve ever had.”

Your breath catches.

You know he means it.

You’ve seen the violence he came from — fists and fights and silence. You’ve heard the names he mutters when he thinks you’re asleep. Enemies. Betrayers. Family.

But you? You smiled at him once.

And now you’re in his arms.

“Do you think I’m scared of you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

He brushes his nose against your temple. “Not anymore.”

You close your eyes.

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep before him.

⸻

The next morning, he carries you upstairs.

You don’t resist. You’re wrapped in a soft wool blanket, arms looped around his neck, hair a mess from sleep. He carries you like you’re made of porcelain, even though you’re awake.

The upstairs is beautiful. Wood-paneled walls, huge windows with drawn curtains, soft light bleeding through sheer drapes. There’s a fireplace, a small library, a kitchen that smells like fresh coffee and soy sauce.

He sets you gently into a velvet chair at the breakfast table.

“You’re not locking me down there again?” you ask, blinking.

He shakes his head. “Not unless you run.”

You won’t.

You know it. He knows it too.

You wouldn’t even know where to run. This house is surrounded by trees, thick and endless. And besides — you don’t want to.

Not when he’s like this.

He pours tea for you. Toasts bread. Sprinkles sugar on strawberries and puts them in a crystal bowl.

Everything he gives you is soft. Safe. Sweet.

“You treat me like a doll,” you say, watching him.

He glances over his shoulder.

“You’re not a doll,” he murmurs. “You’re mine.”

He places the bowl of strawberries in front of you, then crouches down beside your chair.

“Do you understand now?” His voice is calm, but edged with something raw. “Why I took you?”

You look down at him. His fingers wrap around your ankle, light at first — then firm. Like a claim.

“I wanted to be yours,” you whisper.

You’re not sure when that became the truth.

But it is now.

He smiles. Not wide. Just enough to show the faint scar on his lip.

“I’m never letting you go,” he says.

And you don’t flinch.

You reach for a strawberry, bite into it slowly, juice on your lips.

His eyes never leave your face.

———-

Lmk if you want a part 2 and what you might want to see in it👀👀

[rubywillkins]

Bed Time | oneshots

Charles Leclerc

“I’d climb every mountain..

And swim every ocean ..

Just to be with you…”

The soft glow of morning sunlight leaked through the curtains, casting golden shadows on the hardwood floor of the Monaco apartment. The room was still quiet, except for the rhythmic tapping of Charles’ fingers against his laptop keys. He sat by the window, dressed in a faded grey t-shirt and sweatpants, his brows furrowed, utterly focused.

Deadlines, strategy plans, sponsor calls—the kind of work that never really stopped, even for a Formula 1 driver.

In the bed they shared, Y/N stirred under the duvet. She rolled over to his side, now cold and empty, and blinked at the sight of him across the room. Her voice was still sleepy when she murmured, “Charles… come back to bed.”

He glanced up. And instantly, the hard lines on his face softened.

“Mon ange…” he smiled, his voice still low from not speaking for a while, “I just have to finish one thing, I promise.”

Y/N sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. “You said that an hour ago.”

“I know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “But it’s just—this race week is important. The simulator notes came in late and I didn’t want to forget.”

He looked down, feeling a little guilty now. He hated disappointing her. Always did.

“I get it,” she said softly, leaning her head against the pillow, watching him. “But… it’s Sunday morning. And you promised me one morning that was ours.”

That struck something deeper in him. He closed the laptop slowly, hesitating for only a second. He wasn't good at switching off. But he was good at listening to her.

“Okay,” he said, voice quieter. “You’re right.”

She didn’t expect him to actually get up so quickly, but he did—crossing the room in a few long strides, climbing back into the warm bed with her. She giggled softly as he did, and he let out a rare boyish laugh, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her into him.

“You win,” he whispered into her hair.

“I always do,” she teased.

He nuzzled against her neck, warmth blooming in his chest. She smelled like lavender and sleep and home.

“I really do love you, you know?” he said, more serious now.

She turned to face him. “I know. And I love you. Even when you go all workaholic on me.”

His smile stretched slowly, the kind that lit up his whole face. “I’m sorry… I just want to be good at all of this. Racing. Life. You.”

“You already are,” she replied, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “But you don’t always have to prove it. Just… let me be your soft place to land.”

His breath caught for a moment. That meant more to him than she'd ever know. Charles had always been private, guarded, always polite in public, controlled on camera. But with her—he could be undone. Could be real.

“You are,” he murmured. “You’re everything.”

And just like that, his focus shifted from circuits and strategy to the quiet sanctuary of their bed. His arm draped over her waist as he tucked her close, her body curved into his, and the world outside faded into background noise.

No podium could ever compare to this kind of peace.

Lewis Hamilton

“Let my love adorn you ...

You gotta know, baby…”

The London skyline shimmered outside the penthouse windows, hazy and golden in the early morning light. The city was still quiet, wrapped in its own kind of slumber, but Lewis was already up — sitting on the velvet armchair near the balcony, journal open, pen in hand, a mug of herbal tea resting on the table beside him.

He was deep in thought, legs tucked up, hoodie sleeves pushed past his elbows, expression contemplative as soft lo-fi jazz played in the background. The kind of stillness he’d grown to protect. Reflect. Heal.

Behind him, the massive bed was still warm, tangled in cream silk sheets and Y/N’s soft breathing. But her eyes fluttered open when she didn’t feel his presence beside her.

She stretched lazily, her voice still raspy with sleep as she called out, “Baby... come back to bed.”

Lewis glanced over his shoulder, lips curving at the corners. His pen paused. "You always know when I slip away," he murmured, teasing gently.

“That’s because it’s colder without you,” she pouted, resting her chin on the pillow as she looked at him. “And it’s our first real morning off together in... weeks.”

He closed the journal slowly, sliding the pen between the pages. “You’re right,” he said, voice warm and velvety, yet thoughtful. “I just... needed to write out a few things that were sitting heavy.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. She knew that tone—introspective, a little weighty. He always carried the world in his heart. The battles, the brilliance, the hope.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

“I am now,” he said honestly. “Just needed to clear some energy.”

Then he stood, barefoot, quiet as ever, and walked back to the bed. He paused at the edge, taking her in—hair messy, skin glowing in the early light, arms outstretched in invitation.

“You know,” he said with a small smirk, crawling in beside her, “there are a hundred places I’d fly you to right now. Just us, private jet, ocean breeze, zero noise.”

She smiled, brushing her fingers through his curls as he laid his head on her chest.

“Sounds tempting,” she whispered. “But this? You, here, like this… that’s already everything.”

He exhaled, deeply and slowly, like the kind of breath that empties your soul of tension. “You really get me,” he said, voice low against her skin.

“I do,” she whispered. “Even when you disappear into your mind for a bit.”

He turned his face into her, kissed the space just over her heart. "I love you for that. For letting me wander without ever making me feel lost."

Silence settled around them, soft and thick. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Okay,” he mumbled, already relaxing, “five more minutes… but I might make it a whole day.”

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips to his temple. “Good. Because I was planning on keeping you here anyway.”

And just like that, Lewis Hamilton—the man who danced between the metaphysical and the fast lane—let go. No circuits, no cameras. Just him and the woman who saw every part of him, even the ones he didn’t always show.

He didn’t need a private island to feel at peace. He had it, right here, in her arms.

Carlos Sainz

“Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart…”

The gentle hum of the espresso machine was the only sound echoing through the quiet Madrid apartment. Carlos stood at the kitchen counter in a soft navy t-shirt and grey joggers, stirring his coffee with one hand, scrolling through race data on his phone with the other.

It was early—too early for most people on a day off—but not for Carlos. He liked his quiet mornings, liked starting the day before the world demanded too much of him.

From the bedroom, a low, sleepy voice broke the calm.

“Carlos…”

A pause.

“Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, a soft smile forming before he even replied. “It’s not even 8, cariño,” he called back, voice still laced with that low morning gravel. “You sure you’re not tired of me yet?”

“You’re my favorite pillow,” Y/N mumbled, her voice muffled in the sheets.

That earned a quiet chuckle from him. Dry, amused. The kind that barely made it out of his throat but lingered in the room.

He finished stirring his coffee, set the phone down, and padded barefoot down the hallway toward their bedroom. He leaned on the doorframe for a moment, watching her curled under the duvet, hair wild and arm stretched toward where he used to be.

“I thought I’d let you sleep,” he said gently. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You not being here is the bother.”

His brow arched slightly. “Dramatic for someone who calls me emotionally boring.”

“You’re not boring,” she yawned, pulling the covers open in invitation. “You’re steady. Like… calm in a storm.”

He tilted his head slightly, that soft expression returning. Carlos had never been the man of grand speeches. But he was consistent. Steady. Quietly all in.

“You know I’d come back just for that, right?” he said, moving to the bed.

He set his mug on the nightstand and climbed under the covers, immediately pulling her against his chest. His hand slid under her shirt—nothing intense, just a warm palm against her spine, fingers tracing lazy circles like a silent way of saying I’m here.

Y/N hummed in contentment, fitting herself perfectly in his arms.

“I know you’ve got a million things on your mind,” she whispered, “but I like you best when you let yourself rest.”

His lips brushed her forehead. “I do rest. When I’m with you.”

That was the thing with Carlos. He didn’t overwhelm. He anchored. He wasn’t loud about his love—but it was in every touch, every look, every way he quietly chose her over and over again.

“You’re my safe place, you know?” she murmured.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held her a little closer.

Then, finally:

“I know, mi amor. And you’re mine.”

And with that, the day could wait. The world could wait. Because in this moment, wrapped in warmth and love and the kind of peace that doesn’t need proving—Carlos was exactly where he wanted to be.

Franco Colapinto

“I guess I’m in love with the way you hold me ....

And I’ll spend the rest of my life…”

The Sunday sun filtered lazily through the gauzy white curtains, casting soft shadows across the crumpled bedsheets. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee — warm, nutty, familiar. Y/N stirred awake, arms reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

She blinked, brows furrowing. No Franco.

His pillow was still warm. His hoodie was still tossed at the foot of the bed, which meant… he hadn’t gone far. But still. It was Sunday. Their day. Their slow, no-plans, order-too-much-food-and-do-nothing day.

She sat up, eyes still heavy with sleep, and called out, “Franco?”

No answer.

She grabbed the nearest sweatshirt — his, obviously — and padded into the living room.

There he was. Sitting on the floor. Surrounded by open notebooks, a half-eaten banana, a sketchpad, and what looked suspiciously like a very unofficial to-do list written on the back of an old receipt.

He was humming softly to himself, pencil tucked behind one ear, glasses slipping down his nose.

“Seriously?” she said, arms crossed at the doorway. “You left me for your chaos corner?”

He looked up, blinked once, and grinned. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me. You abandoned me.”

Franco stood, stretching in that slow, exaggerated way that made her roll her eyes and smile all at once. “Abandoned is a strong word. I was going to come back the second my brain shut up.”

“It’s Sunday,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re allowed to tell your brain to shut up.”

He hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in until she melted against him, warm and grumpy and barefoot. “I missed you too, you know,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“Then come back to bed.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He grabbed a couple of sticky notes from the floor and slapped them to his forehead. “Reminders for later,” he said solemnly.

She burst out laughing. “You’re the most chaotic genius I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the person who keeps me from accidentally drinking paint water,” he said, scooping her up bridal style with zero warning.

She squealed, clinging to his neck. “Franco!”

He grinned. “Too late. We’re going back to bed.”

He carried her like it was the most natural thing in the world — like he’d always known exactly how to hold her, how to make her laugh, how to make the world slow down. And when he finally dropped them both into the sheets, limbs tangled and hearts synced, he whispered against her skin:

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever made space for.”

And that Sunday — the kind that never made the highlight reels but somehow felt like everything — became another quiet moment stitched into the life they were building.

Together.

Oscar Piastri

“And I need you to know that we're fallin’ so fast

We're fallin’ like the stars…”

The hotel suite was quiet in that specific post-race kind of way — hushed, heavy, and slow. Outside, the sky was dull with overcast clouds, the streets of whatever city they were in a blur behind rain-smeared windows.

Y/N blinked awake to the rustle of hotel sheets and the smell of mint tea steeping in the corner of the room.

But Oscar wasn’t in bed.

Again.

She rolled over to see the bedside clock: 8:42 a.m. Early, but not insanely early — unless, of course, you were Oscar, and you apparently didn’t know how to sit still even after driving at 300 km/h all weekend.

She sat up, pulling the duvet around her shoulders like a cloak and calling out, “Where’d you go?”

His voice floated in from the small sitting area near the window. Dry. Awake. Oscar.

“Just writing a very dramatic grocery list.”

She peeked over the duvet to find him there, legs tucked under himself on the armchair, laptop open, his face lit only by the grey light filtering through the clouds. Hair tousled. Hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Calm as ever.

“Groceries?” she asked, amused.

“We’re out of oat milk. It’s a crisis,” he said without looking up. “Also, I forgot which laundry detergent you like, and I don’t want to guess wrong again. Last time the clothes smelled like a dentist’s waiting room.”

She smiled to herself. It was ridiculous. It was so him.

“You’re incredibly annoying for someone who’s also kind of perfect,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“I take pride in that.”

She waited a beat, then added, softer this time, “Come back to bed.”

He looked over his screen. And something in his face softened — the sarcasm paused, and there it was: that quiet, thoughtful affection he never put into too many words.

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “You just... disappeared.”

Oscar closed the laptop slowly, placing it aside. “Right. Terrible crime. Left my girlfriend alone in a five-star bed with six pillows and central heating.”

“Exactly,” she said, smug under the covers. “And you forgot the best part.”

He stood, stretching with a groan that sounded far too dramatic for a 23-year-old. “Me?”

She nodded, watching him walk back over, calm and casual, like he wasn’t the most emotionally intelligent person she'd ever met hiding behind a dry one-liner.

Oscar climbed under the covers without another word, settling beside her with practiced ease — like they’d done this a hundred times, and would a hundred times more.

He didn’t say much — didn’t have to.

Just wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her in, and whispered near her temple, “There. The bed’s whole again.”

She sighed into his chest, and after a moment, she felt his hand brush gently down her spine — just once. Barely there. But enough.

“Thanks for coming back,” she said.

“I always do,” he replied.

Lando Norris

“I’m still holding on to everything that’s dead and gone…”

The hotel room was dark, except for the soft glow of a hallway light peeking under the door and the occasional flash of city lights bouncing off the windows.

Y/N was asleep.

Or at least, she had been.

The door clicked shut behind him — too carefully. Like he was trying not to be heard. A second later, Lando’s shoes hit the floor one at a time with soft thuds, followed by a rustle of fabric as he tossed his hoodie onto a nearby chair.

He moved like a teenager sneaking in past curfew. Quiet. Strategic. Guilty.

Y/N cracked one eye open. “You trying to rob the place or just tiptoe like a cartoon criminal?”

He froze mid-step.

“Shit,” he whispered. “You weren’t supposed to be awake.”

She flipped onto her back with a groggy smile. “Well. I wasn’t. Until I heard my boyfriend trying to ninja his way across the carpet.”

Lando grinned in the dark. “I was being so subtle.”

“You opened a chip bag two minutes ago.”

“That wasn’t chips. That was... team hospitality mints.”

“Even worse.”

He laughed under his breath, then crawled carefully into the bed, lifting the covers with an exaggerated gentleness that made her giggle.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered, burying his face into her shoulder.

“You didn’t,” she said, combing a hand through his curls. “But you definitely weren’t in bed when I reached for you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “Dinner ran long. And then Zak wanted to talk about some sim work. And then… I dunno, I just got stuck in one of those ‘Lando being Lando’ convos with the crew. I didn’t want to bring all that energy back in here and ruin the peace.”

She looked at him in the dark, quiet and honest now, no teasing. “You being here is the peace.”

He blinked slowly. His smile softened — the kind that wasn’t for cameras or anyone else.

“You’re ridiculously good at that stuff, you know?” he said. “Making me feel like I’m allowed to just… be.”

“You are,” she whispered. “But only if you come back to bed properly. No weird stealth missions. No mint crimes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulled her into him dramatically, wrapping her up in the duvet like she was the most valuable thing in the room.

“Better?” he asked, chin resting on her head.

“Much.”

They were quiet for a minute, her hand tracing slow shapes against his chest.

Then he mumbled, sleep already tugging at his voice, “You always wait up for me?”

“Always.”

A pause.

“Even if I’m late?”

“Especially if you’re late.”

He exhaled, the sound soft and real. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t,” she teased, smiling into his neck.

But she held him a little tighter anyway.

Paul Aron

“Not talkin' 'bout a year ...

No not three or four..

I don't want that kind of forever in my life anymore.”

The first light of morning slipped into the room, pale and gentle, painting soft shadows across the walls. The air was still, the silence sacred.

Y/N stirred in bed, eyes fluttering open. The sheets beside her were still warm — but Paul wasn’t there.

Not surprising.

He had a habit of slipping out of bed early, especially after long nights — the kind where conversations ran deep and silence wasn’t awkward, just heavy. The kind of nights where tears sat close to the surface and hearts got a little too exposed.

Last night had been one of those.

No arguing. No raised voices. Just real life, quietly sitting between them — work stress, family things, future talks. The kind of emotional honesty that didn’t need fixing, only holding.

She reached for her phone, but stopped. Instead, she sat up, pulling the blanket around her, and listened.

There. Soft footsteps. The kettle in the kitchenette whirring to life. A familiar scent — cinnamon and chamomile.

She got out of bed and padded down the hallway, finding him exactly where she hoped he’d be: leaning against the counter, mug in one hand, hair still messy from sleep, hoodie zipped halfway up over bare skin.

He looked up, and his face softened immediately.

“You should’ve stayed in bed,” she said quietly, voice still hoarse from sleep.

He held out the second mug without a word. She took it, letting the warmth seep into her hands.

“I woke up and didn’t see you,” she added.

Paul sipped his tea, then gently nodded toward the folded blanket and notepad left on the table. “Didn’t go far. Just needed a second to let my head catch up to my heart.”

She smiled. “That’s very you.”

He tilted his head slightly, amused. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

He didn’t react dramatically. Just reached out and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. One simple motion, but it made something in her chest settle.

She looked up at him again. “Come back to bed.”

He hesitated only for a second. “You sure?”

“Yes. You don’t have to carry all your thoughts in a corner. Just… come be with me.”

Paul took a final sip of tea, set the mug down, and reached for her hand. No resistance. No big declarations. Just his quiet, solid presence walking back beside her.

Once they were under the covers again, he pulled her close — not because he was told to, but because he wanted to. Her head fit perfectly against his chest, and the room fell into stillness again.

He kissed the top of her head, voice low. “Thanks for letting me come back slow.”

She smiled into his skin. “Thanks for always coming back.”

And just like that — in their own quiet way — they picked up where the night had left off. Not with words. Just warmth. Just together.

Arthur Leclerc

“Can I go where you go...?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?”

It was barely 6:30 a.m. when Y/N stirred in bed, confused by the faint sound of keys jingling and the door very gently clicking shut.

She blinked at the empty space beside her, eyes narrowing.

“Arthur…” she mumbled to herself, pulling the blanket up over her shoulder, still too sleepy to investigate — until she smelled it.

Croissants.

A second later, she heard a not-so-subtle crinkle of a paper bag and a quiet curse in French followed by a whispered, “Merde.”

Now fully awake, she turned toward the doorway just in time to catch Arthur tiptoeing in, hoodie slightly damp from the early morning mist, cheeks pink from the cold, and a very suspicious-looking pastry bag clutched in one hand like a stolen treasure.

He froze when he saw her propped up on one elbow, eyebrow raised.

“…I can explain.”

She smirked. “You better.”

He walked in sheepishly, trying not to smile. “You said last night you missed the pastries from the little corner bakery. I woke up early and thought—surprise breakfast in bed. Very romantic. Very Arthur.”

“It would’ve been more romantic if you were in bed when I woke up.”

“I wanted you to sleep,” he said, crossing the room to her, placing the warm bag on the nightstand. “But clearly, I’ve underestimated how ninja you are with your hearing.”

She sat up, reaching for the croissant and tearing off a piece. “You’re lucky these are still warm.”

He laughed, settling beside her, sliding back under the covers without hesitation. “I didn’t think I’d get scolded for trying to be sweet.”

“You didn’t get scolded,” she said, handing him a bite. “You got caught.”

Arthur leaned over and kissed her cheek, his voice lower now. “Still worth it.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as he handed her a second pastry from the bag. “You could’ve just cuddled me till I forgot about breakfast.”

He turned toward her, grin lazy. “You say that like we can’t do both.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Come back to bed and bring pastries? A man of many talents.”

“Exactly,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, croissant still in hand, crumbs already on the blanket. “This is the real breakfast combo: carbs and cuddles.”

Y/N laughed into his chest, heart full. That was Arthur — chaos in a hoodie, thoughtful in action, never one to say a lot, but always showing up in the most perfectly imperfect ways.

And in that early morning mess — rain-slicked hair, flaky pastry crumbs, cold fingers and warm kisses — she didn’t need anything else.

He was already everything.

[devildomcuties]

Obey Me: Climb into Bed [Dateables]

🕷 pairing: diavolo, barbatos, simeon, and solomon x gn!reader

🕷 wc: 961

🕷 summary: Unable to sleep, you sneak out of the House of Lamentation

🕷 warnings: making out, pet names (my love, sweetheart, babe, little one, implied smut, oral sex

🕷 a/n: I don't know what to call this line and I'm not fond of calling them side characters, so from here on out they will be dateables and the brothers will be demon brothers :)

Diavolo 

“Barbatos wouldn’t approve of your late-night shenanigans,” Dia says as he rolls over to see you at his bedroom door. 

“How did you know it was me?” You ask as you shut the door and head towards his bed. Diavolo sits up, moving the covers to welcome you into his bed. 

He’s shirtless, and in the glow of the lamp on the bedside table, you can make out every delicious ridge of his torso. 

“You expect me not to recognize the footsteps of the love of my life?” Dia asks as you strip your pajamas and climb in beside him.

You smile, melting into his side as his arm drapes over your waist. You lock eyes with him, bashful as he looks at you for a few moments in silence. 

Diavolo leans in, capturing your lips with his own. His large hand cups your cheek, and the other moves down to your lower back. Your leg ends up between his thick thighs, moaning as you rock up and down on his thigh. 

“Barbatos is going to kill me tomorrow,” Diavolo whispers in between saccharine kisses. 

“Why’s that?” You respond as his lips kiss their way down your jaw toward your neck. You grip his broad shoulders, cursing when he rolls on top of you between your legs and you feel his hard cock against your thigh. 

“Because we won’t be getting any sleep tonight, my love,” Diavolo grins as he kisses your lips again, moaning your name softly. 

Barbatos

“You really shouldn’t be in my bedroom this late,” Barbatos’ voice startled you as you shut his bedroom door. 

Across the room, he stands in nothing but a towel as his hair drips slowly onto his shoulders. You follow a drop of water running down his chest until it disappears into his teal bath towel. You gulp, pulsating as you blink, forgetting what he’s said. 

“Sweetheart?” Barbatos takes a few steps toward you while you try not to drool over his perfect physique. He smirks when he catches your gaze, your cheeks flaming hot.

“Yes?” You blink as he cups your face, his thumb tracing your lips. He doesn’t say a word as he kisses you, leading you to his bed where you fall with a gasp. 

Barbatos is on top of you, kissing your neck and helping you out of your pajamas before he drops his towel. His hair is still damp between your fingers when you tug it, pinning his face to your neck as he licks the column of your throat before his teeth sink in. 

“Barb!” You gasp, arching into him as his hands settle onto your hips. Your legs wrap around him as you pant, moaning when he moves lower. 

“I suppose the Young Master shall have a late start to his morning tomorrow,” Barbatos chuckles. “For I will be busy attending to your every need tonight.”

Simeon

“Baby?” Simeon looks up from his journal when he hears his bedroom door open. 

“Hey,” you wave shyly. 

“You shouldn’t be out so late,” Simeon scolds gently as you approach him. He closes his journal and sets his pen on his desk. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I sent you a message on the D.D.D. but you didn’t respond,” you explain. 

Simeon blushes as he reaches for the device. He was still learning how to use it and knew better than to ignore it when it pinged but inspiration had struck and he’d been writing since after dinner with Luke and Solomon. 

You take Simeon’s hand, leading him to the bed. Simeon takes his shirt off, tossing it onto the desk chair as you lift the covers and slide beneath them. He joins you a second later, pulling you to him. His dark hair falls over his eyes as he leans in to kiss you. 

“Did you miss me, little one?” Simeon teases as he kisses your jaw, cheek, and earlobe. “Couldn’t sleep without me next to you?”

“I wanted you to come to me,” you answer him, your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. “Wanted to feel you, kiss you, devour you.”

Simeon groans, moaning your name as he pulls you on top of him. His hands grip handfuls of your ass, kissing you deeply as you grind down on him. 

“Well, you’re here now and I aim to please,” he whispers before he kisses you again, his fingers unbuttoning your top easily as you grind on him once more. 

Solomon

“You know, I could have just popped into your bedroom instead?” Solomon smirks as you appear in his bedroom beside his bed. 

You jump, not expecting him to be behind you. 

“I tried sneaking out first but Lucifer caught me,” you sigh as you climb into bed with him. “I had to barter with Satan to get a spell book.”

“Resourceful,” Solomon laughs as he pulls you to him. “Next time just call and I’ll be right over. You know Lucifer won’t be able to keep me from you.”

“But isn’t it more fun to sneak around?” You grin as you kiss Solomon. He moans as you push him onto his back, your legs straddling his hips. His hands find their place on your ass.

“You do love the thrill of danger,” Solomon whispers as you kiss your way down his shirtless body. When you reach his sweatpants, you run your hand over his erection, licking your lips before tugging his sweatpants down with his boxers. 

Solomon curses, eyes shut as you wrap your lips around him. His heart rate spikes, pleasure coursing through him as you take him into your mouth. 

His fingers thread in your hair, moans escaping his pretty lips until he’s nothing but a puddle of lust underneath you.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[sixxels]

home

boyfriend!satoru coming home after a long mission to his caring!girlfriend ﾟ𓂃⋆｡

fluff!

(art creds: _3aem on X!)

boyfriend!satoru had to be on the ball twenty-four seven for his life as a sorcerer to run smoothly. never once could he slip up and potentially put the entire damn world in danger, because that would mean putting you in danger, and god, he could never let that happen; because when shit hit the fan in his jam packed life, he knew his sweet girl would be waiting for him at home.

boyfriend!satoru had just finished a week long overseas mission in spain, some curse users were running a muck and their government needed the help of the strongest sorcerer alive to keep it under control. after quickly capturing each and every user, he was finally on a plane back to japan and into your loving arms.

boyfriend!satoru was fucking exhausted. his muscles were aching, his head was pounding, and all he wanted was to finally see his beautiful girl after so long. letting out a long, deep sigh, he pushed the front door to his lovely shared home with you open, and threw his jacket up on the coat horse with an overly heavy groan. he grouchily traipsed down the long hallway, letting out a sigh of release as he finally, finally, caught a glimpse of you sleeping soundly on the plush couch in a short little dress and a cute pink apron.

boyfriend!satoru smiled weakly to himself before flopping on down next to you and pulling your tiny frame against his chest like a man starved. he buried his nose in your gorgeous hair, inhaling the scent he longed so much to smell while he was gone. his heart squeezed when he saw you stir slightly to cuddle up onto him absentmindedly, like a puppy seeking warmth.

boyfriend!satoru watched as your precious eyes fluttered open through your long thick lashes, eyes softening as he noticed the look of realisation crossing your features. "toru! you're home. i missed you so much." he felt your little arms wrap around his big broad back as you sniffled into his chest.

boyfriend!satoru was startled when you sat up immediately after and brushed yourself off, pulling his hand up so he could stand and follow you to the kitchen. you placed him in his seat at the head of the small wooden table in your dining room and told him to sit tight. "i have a surprise for you baby."

boyfriend!satoru felt his whole world disappear leaving only you in the center of it all when you brought out a hot tray with a variety of his favourite home cooked dishes. you placed the tray in-front of an awe-struck satoru and he looked up at you like you were his own little slice of heaven. "what the hell did i do in my past life to deserve someone like you baby." he muttered to himself while raking his eyes over your features.

boyfriend!satoru chuckled as you ushered him to eat before it got cold, and he didn't need to be told twice. he devoured every single bite, letting out groans of pleasure with each spoonful of the amazing food you had whipped up. while he was eating you slipped his shirt off. "really couldn't wait that long huh baby? trying to seduce me while i'm eating isn't fair you know!" he laughed, you just chuckled softly in response. "i'm not trying to do that honey. just shh and let me take care of you."

boyfriend!satoru let out a grunt of appreciation as he felt your little hands rub at his sore back muscles while he ate your food. each ministration had him groaning in pleasure as he relished in your loving presence. every knot you massaged out of his muscular back reminded him more and more of just how much he appreciated having you as his own. "fuuuck baby. you're so perfect." he cooed with every one of your calculated movements.

boyfriend!satoru finished all of his food before setting his chopsticks down, you were quick to kiss his cheek lovingly; taking the empty tray from in-front of him before he could fix it up himself. satoru watched as you took it to the sink, standing up from the dinner table and following after you while trying to take it back and wash it himself. "c'mon baby. you just made me all this food at least let me clean u-"

boyfriend!satoru was surprised when you shushed him with one of your little fingers. "go get ready for a bath baby, i'll be up in a few minutes." satoru sighed and nodded, although there was no real frustration behind it, more so a deep and sensual sort of love. he kissed the top of your adorable little head watching you wash up his dishes, smiling to himself as he begun walking upstairs to the ensuite bathroom.

he stripped off his clothing once inside the master bed room and entered the bathroom only to be met with a tub full of bubbly hot water, smelling like epsom salts and bath soaps as soft pink rose petals littered the surface of the water. he smiled and let out a breathy chuckle. 'she's so cute.'

soon after, he heard a pitted patter of footsteps coming up the stairs. turning around with a soft grin, he saw you undressing as you walked into the bedroom. "you like it toru?" your face looked so fucking pretty all soft and expecting. he reached out for you and wrapped your now naked body in his, there was a spark, not of anything sexual, but of a bond that tied two lovers together like glue. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, baby girl." a cute little giggle erupted from your throat as you pulled back from hims and led him to sit inside the soapy tub. satoru was filthy rich, so ofcourse the tub was massive. you both easily slipped inside,

you situated yourself behind satoru and he relaxed back into you. his head was against your chest as you raked your hands through his hair. "you do so much for everyone else toru. i'm glad i get to return the favour by spoiling you every chance i get." he groans at your words and turns to kiss the side of your breast. never in his life had he felt this cared for. the bath infusions were lulling his mind, your gentle strokes making his eyes flutter, the sensation drove him deeper into his favourite relaxed state.

seriously, he'd never felt more at home than he did in your small arms. after a good half hour of stroking satoru's hair through your dainty fingers, kissing his forehead and whispering words of love and comfort. "you're so strong baby, handling everything all on your own isn't easy. i'm so lucky to have such an incredible man." he opened his beautiful crystal eyes, gazing at you through his white lashes. "say it again?" he'd ask with a small cheeky smile.

after the lovely bath, the two of you took turns drying eachother off and slipping into some nice comfy pyjamas, matching of course. satoru pulled you in by the waist and captured your lips in the softest kiss you'd ever felt. you smiled up at him and tumbled into bed. the two of you lay wrapped in eachothers limbs, lips ghosting over eachother in a deep sensual exchange. the room fell quiet as the two of you lay with your foreheads pressed together.

"y/n. you're the most precious girl in the world honey. i really can't tell you how blessed i feel every time i come home to you, baby. please, don't ever leave me." his voice was hushed, barely a whisper as he ran his hands up and down your waist. you could feel his breath fanning over your lips in a steady pace.

"don't worry, toru. i love you way too much for that, silly boy. do you feel more relaxed now?"

he let out a laugh and nodded his head before kissing the top of your nose.

"the most content i've ever felt in my life, baby."

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

[syluslnd]

Your writing style is positively inspiring and transporting 😍 I’ve been wanting to ask this for a long time, but only have built up the courage to request: how Sylus would react to learning the MC or y/n is on antidepressants/anti anxiety meds for their past traumas, and possibly how he would react to noticing MC having rough mental health days . I absolutely understand if it’s not something you want or can write on 💙🙏 just wanted to at least ask :)

Sylus reaction to reader who’s on meds

(hi anon personally I’ve never had to be on meds so this topic is one I’m not too familiar with,I tried my best to write it accordingly;I hope you’re well and I’m glad you had the courage to send in this request it was something completely new for me to write🤍)

────୨ৎ────

The apartment was quiet when Sylus arrived, far quieter than he expected. Normally, the moment he stepped through the door, he’d hear your cheerful voice, some casual greeting or see you bouncing from room to room in your usual flustered, charming way. But today, there was only silence.

He walked in, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. His eyes flickered around the room, scanning for signs of your presence. A mug sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, half-filled with tea, long gone cold. There was a book lying open on the couch, its pages dog-eared but you were nowhere to be seen.

“Sylus?” your voice, faint and hesitant, called from down the hall. You appeared a moment later, your face wearing a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Something about you seemed… off.

“Hey, sweetie” he said, forcing his usual smirk as he approached you. But there was a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, something he tried to mask behind his casual tone. “Everything okay? You look a little worn out.”

“Oh, just tired” you replied quickly, your tone a little too light, a little too quick. “I didn’t sleep well last night. But it’s fine.”

Sylus nodded slowly, watching you for a moment longer. He had known you long enough to read the slight tremor in your voice the tension in your shoulders but he didn’t push. Not yet.

While you disappeared into the kitchen to grab something, Sylus moved toward the living room. He casually glanced over the cluttered coffee table, where your things were strewn about, remnants of a busy week. But then his eyes caught something small and unassuming—an orange bottle, half-hidden under some papers.

He paused, his brow furrowing as he picked it up. Xanax. His breath hitched, his normally composed expression slipping as he turned the bottle in his hand, staring at the label. Anxiety medication. The name alone struck him with a mix of surprise and concern.

You hadn’t mentioned this. Not once. Not even hinted at it. You were always so bright, so full of life, even when you tripped over your words or blushed under his teasing gaze. The thought that something darker had been lurking beneath your usual cheerfulness hit him hard.

“Sylus?” Your voice startled him. He quickly set the bottle down but not before you saw the way his fingers lingered on it, the way his expression tightened with unspoken questions. He looked up at you, his usual confidence suddenly faltering.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You froze, your heart sinking as your eyes darted from him to the bottle of pills he’d clearly seen. The weight of it, the unspoken truth you had been hiding, suddenly became too heavy to ignore. You opened your mouth but no words came out at first.

Sylus stood there, his gaze now piercing in a different way—less teasing more intense more concerned. His hands hung at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them as if he wanted to reach out to you but didn’t know how.

“Sweetie…” His voice softened, a rare break in his usual sharp demeanor. “How long have you been dealing with this?”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tension in the air thicken. “I—I didn’t want to bother you” you admitted, your voice small guilt and fear tightening your chest. “You’re always so busy, with work and everything. I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed and for the first time there was no smirk, no teasing glint. He looked… hurt. His jaw tightened and he ran a hand through his hair, visibly grappling with how to respond. “A big deal? You’re dealing with something this serious and you thought it wasn’t worth telling me?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze anymore, your eyes dropping to the floor. The truth, the weight of what you’d been hiding, was unbearable now. “I didn’t want to worry you” you whispered, feeling the sting of tears welling up. “I’ve just been… struggling. A lot. But I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to seem weak. Not to you.”

For a moment, Sylus didn’t speak. His silence was heavy, filled with thoughts you couldn’t quite read. Then he exhaled sharply, as if he was trying to release some of the tension that had been building up inside him.

“You’re not weak” he finally said, his voice a little rough around the edges. His hand lifted, hesitant at first but then he stepped closer and gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You should’ve told me. I should’ve noticed.”

His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. The guilt in his eyes was undeniable and it broke through that tough, stoic exterior he usually wore like armor.

“I’ve been so caught up with work…” he muttered, mostly to himself, his jaw clenching as he shook his head. “I should’ve been here for you. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head quickly, trying to quell the guilt you could see eating at him. “No, it’s not your fault, Sylus. You couldn’t have known. I—I’ve gotten good at hiding it. I didn’t want anyone to see how bad it’s been.”

His hand moved from your cheek to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But I should’ve seen it” he said, his voice low and tense, filled with regret. “You’re always so… cheery around me. I didn’t know you were feeling like this underneath it all.”

You swallowed hard finally letting the full weight of your feelings tumble out. “I didn’t know how to talk about it” you admitted, your voice breaking. “It’s been hard. The anxiety, the feeling like I’m drowning some days… I’ve been putting on a mask just to get through.”

Sylus’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his expression darkening with the weight of what you were saying. “You don’t have to do that with me” he said firmly, his voice low and intense. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat the vulnerability making you feel raw and exposed. But the way he was looking at you now—so serious, so full of regret—made you feel like you could finally let go of the walls you had built around yourself.

“I didn’t want to burden you” you whispered, voice trembling. “You’re always busy. I didn’t want to be another thing on your plate.”

His eyes flashed with frustration, not at you, but at himself. “You’re not a burden, sweetie” he said, his voice soft but intense. “You could never be.”

There was a long tense silence before Sylus sighed heavily pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The embrace was firm, reassuring in a way that made your entire body relax for the first time in weeks. His scent, his warmth, everything about him was grounding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “But I’m here now. I’ll make more time for you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

You nodded into his chest, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift just a little. With Sylus holding you like this, for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so alone.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Husband Effect

Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff

A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!

__________

“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”

“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”

“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.

“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”

“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.

“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.

“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”

“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.

“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”

“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”

“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”

“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.

“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”

“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.

“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”

“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.

“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“Please hurry Sam.”

One Week Later

“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”

“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”

“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.

“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”

“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”

“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 

“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”

“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.

“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.

“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”

“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”

“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 

“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”

“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”

“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”

“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”

“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.

“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.

“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”

“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 

“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.

“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”

“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”

“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”

“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”

“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”

“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“

“I do feel loved,” said Dean.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.

“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”

“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.

“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”

“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.

“Cool with it?” you asked.

“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”

“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.

“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”

One Year Later

“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”

“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”

“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.

“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.

“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”

“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”

“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”

“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.

“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”

“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.

“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.

“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”

“You got something special planned?” you asked.

“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”

“You read my mind.”

[readreidsworld]

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky surprises you with a lazy Sunday date to the farmer’s market.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You’re still half asleep when a pair of warm lips press softly to your forehead. A low whisper follows. “C’mon, sweetheart. Up and at ‘em.”

You squint one eye open and groan dramatically. “Bucky, it’s Sunday. I was having a very intense dream about pancakes.”

He chuckles, his voice still raspy from sleep.

“Good thing I know a place with pancakes…and strawberries. Lots of strawberries.”

You blink your eyes open fully now, curiosity piqued. He’s already dressed in a cozy navy henley and jeans, his hair still a little damp from the shower. There’s a softness in his expression like he’s been waiting all morning just to see you smile.

“You’re being suspiciously cute,” you mumble, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“That’s because I’m taking my best girl to the farmer’s market,” he says proudly, like he’s just announced a trip to Paris. “You’ve been working too hard. So today’s about fresh air, carbs, and me buying you flowers like a proper gentleman.”

You giggle, already melting.

The farmer’s market is in full swing by the time you arrive. It’s all sunshine and music, the kind of day that feels dipped in gold. Stalls line the sidewalks, overflowing with fresh produce, handmade candles, jars of honey, and bunches of wildflowers that smell like summer.

Bucky holds your hand the entire time with his metal one, which he’s always been self conscious about, you squeeze it every so often just to remind him you love every part of him.

He buys you a lavender lemonade and insists on carrying all the bags, even when his human arm is clearly full. You catch him sneaking glances at you when you’re distracted by a stand of succulents, his eyes soft and awe struck, like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Ooh, strawberries!” you exclaim, tugging him toward a small stall with the ripest berries you’ve ever seen. You sample one and your eyes go wide.

“Try this,” you say, holding one out to him.

He leans in and bites it straight from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin. “Sweet,” he says and you’re not sure if he means the strawberry or you. Probably both.

Later, you sit together on a bench, sharing a warm cinnamon roll and watching a little girl dance to a street musician’s violin.

“You were right,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “This was perfect.”

Bucky kisses your hair, letting out a content sigh. “Told you. You deserve soft days like this.”

And with the sun on your face, the scent of strawberries in the air, and Bucky’s hand laced with yours you start to believe him.

By the time you get home, the kitchen table is cluttered with bags of fresh produce and flowers. Bucky’s already rolled his sleeves up, revealing his forearms a sight you don’t mind one bit.

He gives you a playful look. “So…you really wanna make jam or were you just using it as an excuse to keep me here longer?”

You shrug, grinning. “Can’t it be both?”

Bucky laughs, pulling you in for a quick kiss before turning to the strawberries. “Alright, boss. What’s first?”

You spend the next hour slicing strawberries and sneaking bits to each other like kids. Bucky’s surprisingly meticulous measuring out sugar with the focus of someone defusing a bomb.

“Did you follow a recipe for this?” you ask, impressed. “Nope,” he says. “Just Googled ‘how to not screw up jam.’”

You’re stirring the mixture over the stove when he comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms slipping around your waist. He smells like sunshine and strawberries and cinnamon like home.

“This is nice,” he murmurs.

You nod, feeling your heart settle into something warm and safe. “Yeah. It really is.”

While the jam simmers and cools in jars, Bucky puts on a record an old jazz tune with a lazy, swaying rhythm.

He holds out a hand with a soft smile. “Dance with me?”

You take it without hesitation, letting him pull you close. The kitchen lights are low, and the world outside your windows is quiet. Your bare feet move slowly against the tile as he spins you gently, then pulls you back into his arms like he never wants to let go.

“You make everything feel so still,” he says quietly. You look up at him. “Still good or still boring?” “Still like peace,” he answers. “Like I don’t have to run anymore.”

Your chest aches in the best way. You reach up to touch his face, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You’re not running, Buck. You’re home.”

He kisses you again, softer than ever before, and when you pull away, his smile looks like something he hasn’t worn in decades like ease.

Later, you sit on the couch, tangled in blankets, passing a jar of fresh jam back and forth with spoons.

It’s too sweet. The strawberries are still warm. And Bucky keeps making a mess of himself.

But it’s perfect. Because he’s here. And he’s yours. And the rest of the world can wait.

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

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Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

Previous part, next part

———————————————

Chapter Two: Fact Confirming Mission Only

The library was too quiet for how loud Sirius felt.

He stormed through the rows like a one-man battalion, scanning tables, ears ringing with the words “Remus”, “gone”, and “wearing his jumper”. Marlene’s voice had echoed like a ghost all the way from the cupboard. And now, here Remus Lupin sat. Calm. Reading. Annotating a textbook like he wasn’t a traitor to all that was holy and good.

Sirius slammed his bag on the table.

Remus didn’t flinch. “Afternoon.”

“You,” Sirius said through gritted teeth, “have some explaining to do.”

Remus looked up slowly, quill poised mid-air. “Are you here about the chocolate frogs? Because I already told Peter I didn’t eat them.”

Sirius leaned in. “Did you or did you not sleep with Y/N?”

There was a pause. Remus blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Loud and clear. Which is impressive, since this is a library,” he added pointedly, looking around.

Sirius grabbed a chair, sat down, and hissed, “Answer the question.”

Remus sighed, very put-upon. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That’s not a no,” Sirius whispered, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything, Padfoot.”

“So yes,” Sirius said, throwing his arms out. “It’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no!”

“I also didn’t say I’ve snogged Rosmerta, but here we are.”

“Don’t do that thing where you get all logical and condescending, it makes me want to push you out a window.”

Remus closed his book slowly, placed his quill down like a man preparing for battle. “Are you upset because I’ve kissed someone, or because it was her?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. “She’s not—She’s Y/N!”

“Yes,” Remus said dryly, “I’m aware. We’ve met.”

“She colour-codes her calendar by subject! She’s allergic to spontaneous fun! She turned down a dare to skinny dip in fourth year because, and I quote, ‘the lake isn’t heated.’”

Remus tilted his head. “And yet, somehow, she’s still managed to have a more interesting love life than you.”

Sirius stared at him like he’d been physically struck. “You’re—you’re dating?”

There was a pause. Remus looked away for a second too long. “We’re… talking.”

“‘Talking’?” Sirius repeated. “What is this, third year?”

Remus’s mouth twitched. “Fine. We’ve hooked up a few times. She’s… important to me.”

Sirius felt like someone had swapped out all the oxygen in the room. “Since when?”

“Since the New Year’s party,” Remus admitted. “But we’ve been… getting closer for a while.”

Sirius sat back hard, blinking. “You never said anything.”

Remus gave him a level look. “You never asked.”

—————————————————————————

Sirius stormed out of the library in a daze, only to land himself right in the middle of lunch. He moved like a man possessed, dropping into his seat at the Gryffindor table with all the grace of a falling bookshelf.

James raised an eyebrow from across the table. “You good, mate?”

“No,” Sirius muttered, ripping a bread roll in half with unnecessary aggression.

James followed his gaze across the hall, to the Slytherin table.

Y/N sat near the middle, head tilted in laughter, her elbow nudging Regulus Black of all people—his brother—who looked unusually relaxed, even slightly smug as he passed her something under the table. A letter? A Chocolate Frog? A declaration of eternal sin?

She smiled at whatever he said, nudging him with her shoulder like they’d been doing it for years.

Sirius clenched his jaw.

“She’s probably shagging him, too,” he muttered under his breath.

James froze, halfway to a bite of roast potato. “Who?”

“Regulus,” Sirius hissed. “My own flesh and blood.”

James blinked. “You think Y/N’s shagging your brother?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Sirius said darkly. “She’s playing the long game. Infiltrate the Marauders from within. She’s already got Remus, now she’s circling Reg to get to me. By Tuesday she’ll have my Gringotts account access and the bloody map.”

“You need to lie down.”

“She’s collecting us. Like cursed trading cards.”

“She smiled at him, mate. People do that. It doesn’t mean she’s plotting the downfall of your bloodline.”

Sirius shot him a betrayed look. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am,” James said. “I’m seriously wondering if you’ve eaten enough today.”

Y/N laughed again—laughed—at something Regulus said, and Sirius felt his soul leave his body.

“I think I need to duel him.”

James choked. “You can’t duel your own brother over a girl you’re not dating.”

“It’s a matter of principle.”

“You don’t have principles, you have meltdowns.”

“She used to braid her hair so tight it squeaked when she turned her head,” Sirius whispered like a man remembering a past life. “She cried when I fell off my broom in first year. She saved me a seat in Potions every Monday.”

“And now she’s talking to your brother. The horror.”

“I liked it better when she was boring and safe and wore knee socks year-round.”

“She still wears knee socks, Sirius”

“Not for me, she doesn’t.”

Remus, who’d appeared behind them with a plate and a very knowing smirk, added unhelpfully, “She wore them last night.”

Sirius let out a strangled sound and collapsed face-first onto the table.

—————————————————————————

The Slytherin common room was blissfully quiet—aside from Regulus, who was currently trying to hex his own shoelaces into submission.

“You realise you could just untie them, right?” Y/N asked, flipping the page of her Charms notes without looking up.

“They’re cursed,” Regulus muttered, wand waving in frustration. “I can feel it.”

“You also thought the toast was cursed last week.”

“It was burnt in the shape of the Grimm.”

“It was the Ravenclaw crest, Reg. You’re not that special.”

He gave her an unimpressed glare and sat back with a defeated sigh, boots still tangled.

She smirked and tossed him a sweet from her pocket. “For the trauma.”

Regulus caught it, muttering a reluctant, “Thanks,” as she finally glanced up at him.

Despite being a Black, Reg had grown on her. Mostly because he was smart, sarcastic, and often looked like he was enduring a mental breakdown in muggle studies. Her kind of people.

The door to the common room opened and someone walked past, dropping to the lounge with a sigh. Dramatic entrance.

She blinked. Sirius.

She could feel him even before she looked.

Because of course he was here. Of course he’d found some excuse to storm down into Slytherin territory like a man on a warpath. He didn’t even acknowledge her. Just sat near the fireplace, talking loudly to a portrait about “ancient family betrayals” and “spiteful siblings.”

Y/N raised a brow at Regulus. “Is he broken?”

Reg didn’t look up from his shoelaces. “He’s been circling like a shark since breakfast. Started glaring at me halfway through my eggs.”

“Oh good,” she said dryly. “He’s added fratricide to the mood board.”

Regulus finally looked up, voice bored. “What did you do to him?”

She smiled innocently. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because he’s being Sirius. And you’re… you.”

She didn’t respond—just stood, stretched, and collected her things.

As she passed Sirius by the fire, she tossed him a lazy smile. “Nice of you to visit, Black. Trying to reconnect with your roots?”

He turned toward her a second too fast, expression somewhere between longing and unhinged. “I was just—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, stepping around him. “I’m sure she was worth the cupboard burn.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Before he could speak, she was already sweeping past.

—————————————————————————

Professor Green’s lecture on inferi was starting to feel like a lullaby. Y/N’s mind drifted, only half-paying attention to the professor’s drone about the dangers of corpses rising from the dead. She'd lived long enough in Slytherin to know the dead didn’t scare her. The living were far more dangerous.

The weight on the back of her neck told her that she wasn’t being left alone. It wasn’t the eyes of the professor, nor her classmates. It was his gaze.

Sirius Black. Of course. She felt his intense stare like a physical presence.

Glancing up lazily, she caught his gaze. He was sitting back, quill in hand, tapping it rhythmically against his bottom lip. It was like he knew the exact angle that would make her stomach twist—just enough to keep her on edge.

Y/N rolled her eyes and gave him an exaggerated yawn, tapping her fingers on her desk as if to signal her growing boredom with both the lesson and his silent theatrics.

Sirius tilted his head. His lips twitched into a half-smirk. Then, in the most Sirius of moves, he flicked a piece of parchment toward her.

The note landed on her desk with an almost too-perfect timing. She unfolded it without a hint of hesitation.

“You’re looking especially… studious today.”

Her lip curled into a smile despite herself. Sirius was insufferable, but she couldn’t help but enjoy his brand of torment. She scribbled back without even lifting her head from her notes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to distract me.”

The note was back in an instant, this time a little more hurried, as if he was genuinely trying to provoke her.

“Distract you? I was just admiring the view. Those knee socks are hot.”

Y/N froze. She glanced at the note, then at Sirius, who was now looking at her with that infamous, half-amused, half-challenging expression.

She folded the note neatly and then sent it flying across the room, straight into his hands. The corner of her mouth twitched as he uncrumpled it eagerly.

“You’re quite right. If I were wearing knee socks, you’d be the last person to notice.”

This time, Sirius’s brow furrowed, but only for a second. He looked down at the parchment and then back at her, lips pulling into a grin.

“Touché, Y/N. But just so you know, I notice everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes scanning the rest of the class. She could feel the pull of his attention, and it was the only thing she could focus on now. It wasn’t just Sirius Black. It was the anticipation of something unspoken hanging between them.

When the next note arrived, it was the final straw.

“So, is it true? About Remus?”

She felt her pulse quicken.

A subtle flash of something flickered in her chest as she took a breath, looked over at him, and then whispered without a second thought:

“It’s not your business, Black.”

He didn’t press further, but the smile didn’t leave his lips.

The class seemed to go on forever after that, the tension between them growing with every passing second. She didn’t know what it meant—didn’t want to. She wasn’t the type to get caught up in Sirius Black’s drama.

But for the rest of the lesson, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze.

—————————————————————————

The Black Lake sparkled under the late afternoon sun, its surface catching the light like glass. Y/N leaned back on her elbows, her green and silver tie loosened just enough to look casually disheveled, like she hadn’t tried at all (though she absolutely had). Her skirt rode a little higher when she stretched her legs out, and she didn’t bother fixing it. If people looked, let them.

Remus, sitting cross-legged beside her with a book half-forgotten in his lap, was definitely trying not to look. But his ears were pink.

“Something wrong, Lupin?” she asked, voice all honey and bite.

Remus blinked, like he’d just realised he was staring. “No—no, not at all. You’re just very distracting when you’re smug.”

She grinned. “I’m always smug.”

He gave a small, helpless laugh and glanced down at the book again, but his eyes didn’t move with the text.

Y/N let the breeze sweep through her hair as she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. “You know,” she mused, “I used to be terrified of talking to you.”

Remus looked up, startled. “Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiled, a little wickedly. “You were quiet. Bookish. Serious. Intimidating.”

He snorted. “I was intimidating? You’re the one who had half the school convinced you had basilisk blood by third year.”

“That was an accident. I told one first-year he should watch where he’s going before he ends up cursed and the rumour just... grew.”

“I don’t know. I think you liked it.”

“I loved it,” she admitted with a smirk. “People didn’t bother me. Until fifth year. When everyone suddenly wanted to.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Including you lot.”

Remus blushed again. “Right. Well. That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one who ever tried talking to me like I wasn’t a dare.”

He went quiet at that, and when she looked over, he was already looking at her with that soft, unreadable expression of his. She swallowed, but didn’t look away. Not until someone’s voice echoed across the lawn.

“Y/N!”

She turned lazily to see a seventh-year Ravenclaw boy jogging toward them, looking sun-kissed and cocky. He threw himself dramatically onto the grass in front of her, ignoring Remus completely.

“Thought I’d find you out here. You coming to Slughorn’s party tonight? Rumour is there’s firewhisky and a game of truth-or-dare that might end in someone skinny-dipping in the Prefects’ bath.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Is that an invitation or a threat?”

“Only if you pick dare.” He winked.

She grinned, all teeth. “Then I guess I’ll be picking truth.”

“Boring,” the boy groaned, flopping back.

Y/N turned back to Remus, already dismissing the boy with a roll of her eyes. “See what I mean?”

Remus smiled, bemused. “You’re very popular.”

“I’m very bored,” she corrected, voice low. “Except with you.”

That made Remus flush again, but he didn’t look away this time. “Glad I’m keeping up.”

—————————————————————————

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