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serpentandlily · 5 months

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Now That We Don't Talk

Part I

Now That We Don’t Talk - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of your mate’s betrayal.

Warnings: major angst, mentions of grief and loss, mention of infidelity

a/n: this has a happy ending, I promise! I’d also like to mention that I never usually blame the woman when a man cheats, but in this case, both parties knew of the existing relationship and bond so *death to all of them* lol jk…for now…I hope this lives up to your expectations!

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“That’s it, Y/n,” Madja said, taking a step backwards as she carefully monitored you between two support beams. “Go slow.”

Your shoulders and arms were straining as you held yourself up using the two beams, slowly raising your foot to take another step forward. You groaned at the pain, feeling flustered and embarrassed that walking was taking you so much effort.

Cassian and Nesta had turned one of the larger chambers in the House of Wind into a physical remedial room. You had sessions in here every day with Madja, Cassian almost always there with you and in times he couldn’t be, Rhys would fly up to be with you during these.

You didn’t have the heart to tell your brother that you preferred when Rhys was here instead of him, only because he always magicked his wings away so you didn’t have to see them. Cassian’s were just a reminder of what you had lost.

Relearning to walk has been one of the hardest parts of losing your wings.

Even now it was a struggle to simply stand. You were too used to the weight of having wings on your back and using them to balance. You felt their absence in more ways than one.

But this one was easier to deal with—the physical part. It was the mental and emotional part that still kept you up at night. The loss of freedom, having to know you’d never be able to fly again. The nightmares. The embarrassment. The shame.

You had never been a particularly proud Illyrian, never agreeing with the way your people were raised and the culture they lived in. But still, having those wings made you a part of something bigger than yourself—a community, a tribe, a family.

You weren’t like Rhys, not a half-breed like him. You didn’t have the pointy ears to make you fit in with the wingless High Fae. You’d always be other to them. And now you’d be other to your people as well.

You tried to blink away the tears forming in your eyes but it didn’t matter. Your brother seemed to sense the change in your mood and rose from his chair in the corner where he had been monitoring the session.

“You’re doing great, kiddo,” Cassian said, trying to encourage you to keep trying. “One step at a time.”

“I can’t,” you choked out, your muscles straining from the effort to keep you upright. “I-I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Cassian said, sternly. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

“I can’t.”

You wobbled, letting out a long exhale. You had only made it halfway to the other side of the mat. Pain pierced through your still healing back, serving as another reminder of what you had lost. Your fractured hip had healed already but the bones still felt like they were being grinded together every time you moved your legs.

“Thank you for your help today, Madja,” Cassian said, sharing a look with the older healer. “I can take it from here.”

Madja, as if also sensing the shift in the atmosphere, took her leave without argument to give you some privacy with your brother.

“Just make sure she eats something after this. Her body needs more nourishment,” Madja said on her way out. The noise of the door shutting behind her was all it took for the hold on your emotions to completely crumble.

You felt your legs give out as a cry escape from your throat. Cassian darted forward, catching you only just before you hit the ground. He slowly lowered you the rest of the way, going with you to hold you in a tight embrace as sobs racked your body.

“I-I can’t do this, Cass,” you cried over and over again. “I can’t do this.”

He knew you weren’t just talking about walking.

Every intake of breath reminded you of the heavy weight of your heart in your chest. It was unbearable, all consuming. The heartache, the pain, the feeling of the mating bond still lingering in the background of it all. You wanted to rip your heart out, wanted to scream and scream but all that came out were inaudible words and sobs.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, petting your hair on the back of your head. “I promise you.”

“My wings, Cass, m-my wings are gone,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

Cassian cradled your head in his neck, pulling you tighter against him. His own body was tense and you knew he was holding back his own emotions, trying to be strong for you. “I know, kiddo, I know.”

“M-my wings,” you cried. “My wings. I-I want them back, Cass. P-please, I want them back!”

“I would cut off my own wings and give them to you if I could, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered, his voice filled with despair. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t understand this feeling, would never unless he too lost his wings. You remembered when he almost had after protecting Azriel in Hybern from the blast of the Cauldron. Azriel…Just thinking of his name was making you spiral further, choking on your own sobs.

There had once been a time when Azriel had been the one to save your wings. And now he was part of the reason why you lost them. You weren’t even sure which hurt more at this point. His betrayal or the loss of your wings.

Both felt so violating.

A piece of you, of your body, ripped away along with your trust and heart. Your mate sleeping with another female and coming home to you. Looking you in the eyes and keeping that secret from you each and every day. Making love to you knowing he was sharing himself with another behind your back. How were you supposed to move on?

It didn’t help that you weren’t fully rid of Azriel. The bond was still an unwelcomed presence inside of you, still sang his name–called for him–despite the hurt he had caused you. You wanted to tear it to shreds.

“Why?” You cried, wrapping your arms around Cassian’s neck to fall into him further. Your brother held you as tight as he could, stroking your hair, whispering words of support in your ear. “Why wasn’t I g-good enough, Cass? W-why wasn’t I enough for him? What is wrong with m-me?”

The guttural wails that came from you caused Cassian to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to keep his own tears at bay. Your chest heaved as you struggled to even breath under the crushing anguish that was consuming you. He held you as you shook, held you as your tears soaked through his shirt, held you as he restrained himself from shooting off to go find Azriel and kill him.

“There is nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Nothing,” Cassian growled. “Azriel is a fool for losing you. He’s the fuck-up. Not you.”

“He is my mate, Cass, my mate. And he–he did this to me. Why?”

“Because he’s a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to love,” Cassian growled.

You couldn’t even register his words over the pounding of your own wailing heart. “What did I do to deserve this?”

You felt so violated, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly shattered. The pain of your broken heart seemed to echo in the depths of your very soul. Why hadn’t you been enough for him?

Was Elain just that much better? Was she prettier, smarter, a better female? Could she give him something you couldn’t?

“You didn’t deserve this. You did nothing wrong,” Cassian murmured into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “You are so much better than them, sweetheart.”

“B-but then why wasn’t I enough?” Your cries met their crescendo, your hands shaking as you clung onto Cassian’s shirt with tight fists. “Why wasn’t I enough, Cass? Why?”

Your voice was hoarse, your words cracking as you spoke. But there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to say at all.

You weren’t good enough for Azriel, for your own mate. You weren’t good enough to keep his attention. Not good enough to keep his love.

You were just simply not enough.

Cassian held you there as you cried and cried, held you as the weight of everything you lost engulfed you. Held you through the raw grief that surged like a tempest within you. Held you until you had cried yourself into a fitful sleep, only then rising to carry you back to your room.

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As soon as Mor had gotten word about what had happened, she immediately started her journey home from the continent. She had gone to you the minute she landed in Velaris, but Cassian had turned her away because he didn’t want to interrupt your sleep, something you hadn’t gotten much of since the attack.

But that was okay because she had a few things she needed to take care of.

“Where is she!”

Mor’s shout rang through the entire house, the ground quaking underneath her as she stormed into the dining room where a very morose dinner seemed to be taking place with Rhys, Feyre, Elain and Amren at the table. Rhys shot up from his seat. “Y/n is at the House of Wind with—”

“Not her,” Mor snarled before pointing a finger at Elain, who stared at her wide-eyed. “You.”

Before anyone could stop her, Mor launched herself forward, grabbing Elain by the hair on the back of her head and slamming her face down on the wooden table she was sitting at. Rhys cursed while Feyre jumped up from her seat, thanking the Gods that Nesta wasn’t here for this.

Rhys grabbed Feyre by the arm, shaking his head at her. “Some things need to be fought the fae way. Let her learn.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, not so much as flinching at the display.

Mor kept her fist wrapped in Elain’s hair, pressing her face against the hardwood as the other girl cried out, blood dripping down her nose.

“That was for Y/n because she’s up there learning how to fucking walk again because of you,” Mor hissed before yanking Elain up by her hair until she was standing.

Elain cried out for Feyre but her sister just pressed her lips into a thin line, Rhys’s hand still around her arm. Feyre was disappointed in her sister for what she had done but she still bristled as Rhys’s amusement at the scene traveled down their bond.

Mor decked Elain in the face, the sound audible, causing Feyre to flinch. Elain’s head whipped to the side as she dropped to the floor with a loud sob. “And that was for Cassian because he would never lay his hands on a weak, pathetic female but I will. Remember that.”

Elain’s cries rung out in the room, blood dripping from her now broken nose and a bruise already forming on her cheek. Mor ignored her as she looked to Rhysand.

“Where is the other one?” Her voice was full of anger. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“I don’t know,” Rhys sighed, finally letting go of Feyre. She rushed to Elain’s side, helping her off the floor and out of the room, giving Mor a remorseful look, feeling guilty over what her sister had caused.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“He disappeared once Y/n woke up and made it very clear she didn’t wish to see him. I have no idea where he went.”

“That fucking coward,” Mor grumbled. “Why is Elain still here? This is Y/n’s home, not hers. She shouldn’t have to be the one who leaves and you know she will if those two are still around. Cassian would leave with her too—I’m sure of it.”

“I know he would,” Rhys said, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do, Mor. If Elain wasn’t Feyre’s sister I would’ve had her banished in a second and Azriel…Gods, he’s my brother. I can’t believe he would do something like this. He loves Y/n. I don’t know why he would hurt her like this.”

“Azriel has always been his worst enemy,” Mor sighed, sitting next to Rhys. “We’ve all tried to help him as much as we could but this just isn’t something we can help him with. Y/n is going to need our support. This could destroy her.”

“It already has,” Rhys replied. “She might leave our court regardless of whether or not we send Azriel and Elain away. I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve already let her know that if she wants out, I’ll have everything set-up for her.”

“What of the girl’s mate? The redhead,” Amren piped up, crossing her arms. “Does he know yet? You know how males are. He might call for a blood duel against Azriel.”

“Lucien has already been informed about what happened,” Rhys spoke. “Cassian has been on a warpath and was all too eager to tell Lucien. I think part of him hoped he would duel Azriel. But Lucien wouldn’t.”

“So what happens now?” Mor asked.

Rhys looked at her and she took note of the heavy bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping. Neither had she. She was certain none of them had. Azriel had caused a giant rift in this family—one felt by them all.

Rhys held back his tears, clearing his throat.

“I know what was to be done,” he breathed out. “But it’s going to be hard. He was…He was my brother for over five hundred years. Regardless of what he’s done, it’s going to be hard to say goodbye.”

Mor rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know, Rhys. Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“He cannot be trusted anymore,” Amren added. “Anyone who could cheat on their mate cannot be trusted. He might as well have spit on the Mother’s face for what he did.”

“I just want to know why. Why would he do this?”

Mor let out a long breath. “I’m not sure you’ll ever get an answer. I think Azriel, himself, can’t even answer that question.”

“I failed her, Mor. I knew how dangerous that mission was. I should’ve never given it to her,” the quiet cry shook Rhys’s body.

“Azriel was supposed to be with her, Rhys,” Mor said. “It’s not your fault. He failed her. This was his doing.”

But Rhys just shook his head, the tears finally slipping free from both of their eyes.

“Get it out now, Mor, before you see her,” Rhys choked out. “It’s…hard to see her in the state she’s in. Prepare yourself. We have to be strong for her.”

“I know,” Mor whispered, wiping at her tears. “I know.”

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“Hey, kiddo,” Cassian’s voice pulled you from your sleep.

You blinked awake, groaning at the pounding in your head. It took you a second to realize you were in your room. Cassian must’ve carried you here after your breakdown yesterday.

Cassian was sitting beside you, stroking your hair. “I brought you some breakfast and someone is here to see you.”

It was only then you noticed the other person sitting at the end of your bed.

“Mor?” Your voice was hoarse, the word barely escaping. “You’re here?”

“I came back as soon as I heard,” Mor said, leaning forward to clutch your hand in hers. “How are you doing, babygirl?”

Mor had always felt like an older sister to you. Her friendship with your brother had made the two of you close.

“I’m…I’m not doing good,” you replied, honestly. “I can’t…I don’t know what to do, Mor. I don’t know how to move on from here. Part of me wishes I died in that alleyway. I wish I died the minute my wings were cut off.”

“I know,” she said, sadly. “I wish I had an answer for you but I don’t. It’s going to be hard, but we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

“Come on, why don’t you sit up so you can eat,” Cassian murmured, putting a hand on your back to help you up.

“I’m not hungry,” you protested.

“You have to eat something, sweetheart,” Cass said gently. “Madja’s orders.”

But you shook your head. You didn’t have an appetite. Everything still hurt so much.

“Just give her a second, Cass,” Mor murmured.

Cassian frowned but nodded. He brushed some of your hair away from your face again and the soothing motion started another round of tears.

“Hey, hey,” Cassian whispered. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Cass! How will I ever be able to show my face again?” you cried. “I will be shamed, spit on, shunned because I lost my wings—because I couldn’t fight for them. I can never return to Illyria. I won’t be able to help train with the girls anymore.”

“Emerie told me the girls are already awaiting your return. They miss you,” Mor reassured. “Who cares about what the stupid males are going to think? Most of those females have had their freedom of flight taken from them. They would never shun you for what happened.”

Your eyes fell on the many bouquets of flowers and get well cards on your nightstand. Cassian had been bringing them to you. Your heart ached at the sight.

“But I failed them, Mor,” you sobbed. “I failed them. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be a warrior and all it took was one male to completely destroy me. I’m worthless to them now. How can I teach them to fight for themselves if I cannot even do that?”

“You are not worthless,” Cassian said, sternly. “You are more of a fighter than half of those Illyrian males. You continue to fight each day knowing you have to live with the loss of your wings. Most of the males would’ve given up already, sweetheart. You are stronger than you think.”

“I-I’m not. I’m weak and a failure,” you cried. “I couldn’t protect my wings. Couldn’t keep my mate’s love. Couldn’t…couldn’t–”

Your sobs overtook your words, your entire body shaking.

“Listen to me, Y/n.” Mor demanded. “You are not weak. You are not a failure. You are a million times better than the two assholes who hurt you. You will survive this. You will survive him. I promise you, Y/n, I promise you.”

She embraced you, holding you as you broke down into gut-wrenching sobs once again.

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The air was tense to say the least. Rhys was standing behind his desk, palms pressed flat against the surface as he stared at the two people sitting in front of him. Feyre stood next to him as both a pillar of support and the High Lady.

Azriel’s eyes were downcast. He hadn’t even looked at Elain since he had been dragged into this office by Mor—a new black eye and a bruised jaw decorating his face. Elain stared and stared at him, her eyes pleading with him to look at her but he ignored her presence.

Azriel looked rough. He hadn’t shaved, his eyes were bloodshot, but the most surprising thing was his lack of shadows swarming him.

“Where are you shadows?” Rhys asked. “I swear, Azriel, if you sent them after Y/n, I will bring Cassian down here to do with you as he pleases.”

Azriel looked up, shaking his head. “They won’t sing to me anymore. Not since…Not since the accident.”

It was true. His shadows had hissed at him, recoiled in his presence before they dissipated as if they too had felt his betrayal. They had wailed in agony at the loss of Y/n. They had always skittered away in Elain’s presence, probably the only reason they never yelled at him when he was with her…but it seems this time, they had left for good.

Despite his curiosity, Rhys decided to drop the subject. This was not the time or place for that discussion.

“Feyre and I have come to a decision about what must happen due to the results of your actions,” Rhys said, his voice full of authority and resignation.

“What? But we’ve done nothing wrong!” Elain exclaimed. “I know we shouldn’t have gone behind Y/n’s back but we’re in love!”

“I don’t care,” Rhys snarled, baring his teeth. “I don’t care how much you two claim to be in love! Azriel has caused irreparable damage to his own mate—a member of my court, of my family. And you were complicit in that.”

“Are we not your family too? Feyre is my sister!”

“And Y/n is mine,” Rhys retorted. “And Cassian’s.”

Elain crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “So we’re being punished for falling in love? It’s not our fault the Cauldron decided to make someone else our mates. It was never our choice.”

“You’re not being punished for falling in love, if that’s even what we can call this,” Feyre spat out, staring at her sister with disappointment. “You’re being punished for how you handled a sensitive situation. You’re being punished for lying to our whole family and for causing it to be torn apart.”

“You’re not being punished at all,” Rhys snapped. “If you were, both of you would be in a cell in Hewn City and I’d let Cassian decide what your punishment would be considering Y/n would never have the heart to hurt either of you. This is simply the consequence of your own stupid actions.”

Azriel’s head shot up at the mention of your name. “How is Y/n? Is she doing okay?”

Feyre went to answer but Rhys shook his head at her.

“You don’t get the privilege of knowing anything about her at this point, Azriel,” he huffed.

Azriel stood from his chair in anger. “She is my mate, Rhys.”

“Sit down,” Rhys commanded, his voice rising for the first time since the meeting started. “Funny how now you acknowledge her as a mate but not when you had your tongue down Elain’s throat.”

“Fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel growled, but sat, unable to fight the power of a High Lord’s order.

“No fuck you, Azriel! I thought you were my brother! How could you do this to Y/n? To our family? Both of you should be ashamed. You are already getting off easy, don’t make me rethink my choice. Lucien has every right to storm in right now and demand a blood duel against you. And even though it’s not a practice in my court, I’d even let Y/n declare one against Elain.”

Elain’s face paled but Azriel only scoffed in indignation. “As if Feyre would ever let anyone kill one of her sisters.”

Feyre stepped forward, glaring at the shadowsinger and Elain. “I’m done protecting her. Nesta is done protecting her. We have spent our whole lives taking care of her thinking she was just too soft for this world—too naive and innocent. But I think we’re finally seeing the real you, Elain. And it is time for you to face the consequences of your own actions, make your own way in life.”

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to force me to live in the House of Wind like you did Nesta?”

“No,” Feyre said, stone faced before looking at Rhys. They had decided together how they would handle this situation.

“You are both hereby banished from the Night Court,” Rhys declared. “I will not tolerate Y/n having to lose her own home after she just lost her wings and we are going to do what's best for her. Lucien has made it clear that you both will not be welcomed in Day either and Helion is standing by his son’s decision. Beyond that, we cannot help you. You will pack your things and leave immediately. If you step one foot in this court after you leave, I will be notified and you will face worse repercussions.”

“What?” Elain exclaimed. “Feyre, you can’t be serious! Look, I’ll move out of the Riverhouse. We can live in Azriel’s apartment and avoid Y/n.”

“That apartment belongs to Y/n too, you know,” Feyre snapped. “We have already made our decision. We will not be negotiating any terms.”

“Rhys, come on,” Azriel said. “I will leave but you don’t need to banish Elain too. She did nothing wrong.”

“Elain knew you were a mated male, knew you were together with Y/n. While I agree that what you have done is worse, she still knew what she was doing wasn’t right.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Elain cried. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anywhere to go, Feyre. You can’t just toss me out like this.”

“Azriel has money,” Feyre shrugged. “I guess you’re his problem now.”

“You know none of the other High Lord’s will want me in their courts, Rhys,” Azriel snarled. “Not after the things I’ve done for you.”

“Should of thought of that before you betrayed our whole family.”

“I hear the old Manor is still abandoned in the human lands,” Feyre remarked. “Since Vassa had reclaimed her territory with Jurian at her side and Lucien had moved to Day to be with his father.”

“We can’t survive there,” Elain sobbed. “Humans hate faeries.”

“Not my problem, Elain,” Feyre said. “You’re not my problem anymore.”

“Azriel, do something!” Elain cried, looking at the shadowsinger.

“What do you expect him to do?” Rhys laughed humorlessly. “He no longer has his title, his place in my court. He has no sway here. You both don’t. You will not change our minds.”

“Nesta won’t allow this!”

“Nesta,” Feyre said, “is packing up your things as we speak.”

Elain fell back in her chair, crying.

“I’d say I wish you two the best, but I don’t,” Rhys said. “You have two hours to sort out whatever you have to before I expect you both to be out of my court. Two hours. Do you understand?”

“Please,” Elain begged. “Please don’t do this, Feyre.”

But Feyre only shook her head at her sister. “There’s no going back for either of you. Say your goodbyes, sort out your affairs, but you will leave in two hours.”

Rhys took his leave after that, giving Azriel one last look that was full of disgust, guilt, regret, sadness. One last look at his brother before striding out of that room, never to see or speak to him again.

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Mor had just left when you heard the flapping of wings approaching your balcony. Thinking it was your brother, you pushed yourself to stand and hobbled over to the balcony doors using the walls of your room for support. You opened the door, expecting to see your brother, but your heart stopped when you came face to face with Azriel.

Your eyes narrowed and you went to slam the door, but he grabbed it before you could.

“Please, please just hear me out,” he pleaded. “I will leave, I promise, I just…I just—please.”

“There is nothing you can say that will make me forgive you, Azriel.”

“I know, baby–”

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

Azriel looked down at his feet. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not here to try to earn your forgiveness, Y/n. I know I fucked up beyond repair. I know I failed you, failed us. Words will never be able to convey how much I regret everything.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe as your legs threatened to give out. You were debating screaming out for Cassian.

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone that looked to be enchanted. He held it out towards you.

“I can’t…I can’t hear the shadows anymore,” he murmured. “But I can’t just leave you without some way to contact me. In case you ever change your mind, in case there is ever a chance that we can be together again. You’ll be able to call for me with this.”

“That is never going to happen.”

“Please, just take it,” Azriel begged. “Even if you don’t want me, please. If you’re ever in danger again and need help, you can use it for that too. Just please, take it.”

When you said nothing, didn’t so much as open your palm so he could place the stone in it, he knelt down and placed it at your feet instead. You stared at him, emotionless. You didn’t want to give him anything. He didn’t deserve your tears or your sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for the way things ended,” Azriel said. “You deserve a better mate than me. If I never…If I never get to see you again after this, I promise I will find you in the next life and the one after that. I will do right by you. I will give us another chance.”

He stared at you, pleading with you to say anything. Anything. Even if you screamed at him, beat him, cried—anything was better than this utter silence. But you didn’t. You merely looked at him like he was nothing to you. Like he was a stranger.

“Goodbye, Azriel,” you said. “I hope you find happiness in your life. Truly.”

And then you slammed the door shut and walked away.

And he knew then that your words would haunt him for the rest of his life because he knew he had lost the one real thing that had brought him true happiness forever.

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One Year Later ~ Winter Solstice

“Get up, you lazy cow!”

The sheets were yanked off your sleeping body, exposing you to the cold morning air. You let out a shriek, cursing at your brother and trying to grab the sheets back.

“What the hell, Cassian!”

“It’s Winter Solstice!”

“It’s also six in the morning,” you retorted, falling back down on your bed.

“Nope, you’re not going back to sleep,” Cassian said. “It’s time to get up!”

Before you could even respond, Cassian grabbed you by the ankle and yanked you to the end of the bed. You squealed as he tossed you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, pounding on his back as he raced out of the room.

“Cassian! Let me down, you big brute!”

But he only laughed at you, carrying you all the way to the kitchen where Nesta was sitting at the counter with a steaming cup of tea. She didn’t so much as blink as he dropped you into the chair next to her, already used to her mate’s antics.

“Goodmorning, Y/n,” Nesta said, pushing an already prepared cup of tea your way.

“Oh, you are an absolute goddess,” you groaned, greedily accepting the mug. You curled your ice cold fingers around it, relishing in the warmth.

“Hey! What about me?” Cassian yelled, swinging a wash cloth over his shoulder as he started to make breakfast for the two of you. “I’m the one making you guys food!”

“You’re also the one who woke us up, dingbat,” you scoffed, causing Nesta to snort.

It wasn’t long before Cassian was sliding a plate of pancakes your way. “Eat up. You have a long day ahead of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him but accepted the food, scarfing it down. It was almost hilarious how out of the three of you it was Cassian who cooked the best.

After breakfast, you retired to your room to get ready to go down to the River House for the real celebrations. Cassian had cryptically told you to wear pants, so you did. You had no idea why until hours later, when you were all lounging in the sitting room after lunch.

A knock on the front door had you jumping up from your seat. “I’ll get it!”

No one batted an eye as you raced for the door, pulling it open to see Lucien standing on the doorstep. You let out a noise of excitement, grabbing him in a hug.

“Lucien!” you exclaimed. “You’re here early!”

A few weeks after the incident, Lucien had sent you a letter asking how you were faring and offering you support. He became a lifeline while you had dealt with the aftermath of saying goodbye to your mate and healing. You both leaned on each other during that time because you were simply the only two who understood the pain of having a mate who fell in love with another.

“Happy Winter Solstice,” he said as you pulled away and opened the door wider so he could enter. “I’m actually here to retrieve you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Is everything ready?”

Your brother’s voice came from behind you and you whipped your head around to stare at him. He was wearing his flying leathers now only confusing you further.

“Yes,” Lucien nodded.

“What’s going on?” you asked, suspiciously.

No one else followed Cassian out. Not even Nesta. You frowned as he shook Lucien’s hand, giving him a friendly whack on the back.

“You’ll see,” your brother said with a grin. “Lucien is going to winnow us somewhere, kiddo, to your solstice gift.”

You looked between them with narrowed eyes but accepted Lucien’s outstretched hand. His grin was the last thing you saw before you were pulled away in a flurry of wind. A second later, you appeared in the middle of a clearing.

The tall green grass, the slightly warm breeze, the lack of snow, told you that you were in the Spring Court. You whirled to face your brother who let out a sneeze as soon as he got his bearings.

“What are we doing here?”

“So, you know how when Feyre was brought back she was given a drop of power from every High Lord?” Cassian asked.

You nodded, not understanding where this was going. Your hand slipped into your pocket, around a stone that was always kept there. The one Azriel had left you. You had never used it but for some reason, had never parted with it either. At some point, you had started holding it whenever you felt nervous or fell back into the heartache you had experienced last year.

“Well, of course she inherited part of Tamlin’s shapeshifting powers. And we thought maybe she could shapeshift others the way he does, but after numerous tries, unfortunately it seems as though the sliver of power she received only allows her to transform herself.”

“It was not fun being the guinea pig for those test runs,” Lucien laughed. “When Feyre was unable to do it, we had to turn to someone else.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me? Or my solstice gift?”

Before either of them could respond, a noise came from the shrubbery in the distance. Tamlin’s beast form pounced out from it, striding towards you. You gasped and backed away, right into your brother’s chest. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “He’s here as a favor to Lucien.”

“And Feyre and Rhys approved this?” you whispered up to him.

He nodded his assurance.

You let out another gasp as Tamlin shifted back into his fae form. He looked well, better than the last time you had seen him at least. He seemed to have regained some weight and gotten a haircut. You knew he was still in the process of recovering his court. You wondered what sort of strings Lucien had to pull to get him to willingly let you and Cassian come here considering his history with your rulers.

He gave you and Cassian a polite, but bland, greeting which you reciprocated.

“Are any of you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Tam is going to help you shapeshift,” Lucien explained. “If you will allow him.”

“Shapeshift? But why would I–”

It clicked in your head, what they were implying, why they had brought you to this large clearing. You whipped around to look up at your brother who seemed to be holding back tears. He gave you a nod, already knowing what you were asking.

“W-wings,” you choked out. “He can give me wings.”

“It won’t last forever,” Lucien said. “But yes, he can give you wings.”

Tears started slipping down your cheeks and you lurched towards Lucien, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. You…you were going to have wings. You were going to be able to fly!

You didn’t care that it wouldn’t last forever. Just the chance to fly once more was a gift in itself.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear. “Thank you.”

Lucien laughed, hugging you back before you slowly pulled away from him. You looked over your shoulder at your brother. “This was your idea?”

Cassian shook his head. “As much as I wish I could claim this, it was actually Lucien who thought of this first. I’m just here to supervise–and to offer you a flying partner if you’ll have me.”

You smiled up at Lucien, unbelievably touched at the thoughtfulness. Lucien wiped your tears from your face, gently, before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Are you ready?”

You nodded with enthusiasm.

Lucien gestured at Tamlin to come closer.

“Thank you for doing this,” you said to him with a small bow of the head.

“I once watched a faerie die after losing his wings,” Tamlin murmured. “Its…Its a horrific crime. One my family has a history with. I’d like this to be my first step towards making amends for their mistakes.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you just gave him a grateful nod of the head. He focused intently on you and you felt his magic surround you. It felt nice, like a crisp Spring breeze. And then you felt a familiar weight on your back. You stumbled for a second, readjusting to how it used to feel having wings. But it surprisingly came back to you quite easily.

You looked at them over your shoulder, stretching them out and flapping them a few times. They looked just like your brother’s and you realized Tamlin must’ve used him as a guide. You grinned, facing Cassian.

“Race you towards the end of the clearing,” you shouted before taking off into the sky.

Your brother’s laughter followed after you as he too launched into the sky.

+++

Hours after night had fallen, you found yourself behind the River House, leaning on the railing to watch the slow moving river. Your wings had since dissipated, but you hadn’t felt this light in a long time. Being able to fly today had healed you in some way.

You had spent a lot of time thinking while you flew amongst the clouds. Thinking of who you used to be. Sometimes you missed that girl, sometimes you wished more than anything to be her again.

But you hadn’t felt that today…

Today, you had felt like a new person. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. And perhaps in a way, you were.

Life had never been predictable. Your whole life had been filled with tragedy and sorrow, challenges and hard work, happiness and joy, regret and insecurities. You had gone through so much, so much, but somehow, you were always able to come out on the other side.

It wasn’t easy. It involved many days of despair, awful thoughts, and soulless recovery. You had to fight to get up sometimes, had to fight just to feel something. Sometimes it seemed like you’d conquer one mountain only to be faced with another.

If it wasn’t for your brother, you were certain you would’ve fallen back a dozen times. But he had been your pillar of strength, your rock to rest against when things got too hard. And Mor and Rhys had been there to help lift you back up.

You had gained new friends, found a new life for yourself. Metamorphosed into a new person.

That girl from a year ago?

Well, you were finally going to let her die.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the stone Azriel had left you. You ran your thumb over its smooth surface. It didn’t hurt as much to look at it now, not like it had before. Before it had represented so many things.

The loss of love, the grief of losing your wings, the reminder that he had betrayed you.

But now…now it just looked like a rock.

You gripped it in your fist and tossed it into the Sidra, watching as it hit the water’s surface with a small thud before sinking down into the black water. Down and down, until it would find its way to the bottom. Perhaps then it would drift out into the sea.

You heard the backdoor to the house open.

“Hey, Y/n, come on!” Mor shouted out to you. “We’re going to Ritas!”

You took one last look at where the rock had disappeared in the water, letting out a long breath.

“Goodbye,” you whispered into the cold air. “I’ll see you in our next lifetime. Maybe then you’ll deserve me.”

With a new weight lifted off your shoulders, you turned and marched back to your new beginning.

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #angst with a happy ending

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blacknight1230 · 5 months

Text

Healing Touches

(Y/n) is suffering from one of the worst migraines they had ever had, but luckily she has two wonderful partners to help her feel better.

poly!Halsin X Reader X Astarion

Everything hurt. Why does everything hurt? That was the first thing you were thinking of when you woke up that morning. The sounds of the birds singing their morning song, the sunlight breaking through the slit in your tent's opening, the reverberating throbbing of your head ... it could only mean one thing. You were suffering from a migraine. You tried to get up to try and find something to help you with your pain, but the slightest movement made a wave of dizziness and nausea to overcome you. Spots danced across your eyes, even when they were closed and your back teeth were even in pain. This is by far the worst migraine you have ever experienced, and you've suffered from quite a lot. This is what I get for not having my medication with me, you thought. Yet another thing you took for granted when you somehow managed to transport yourself from the modern world to the magical and chaotic world of Faerûn. How you did that, you still did not know.

The vertigo you were dealing with made it impossible for you to physically get help. So, you did the only thing possibly in this situation; you used your tadpole to connect with one of your companions. You psychically reached out to one of your nearby companion's tadpole, latching onto the first one your worm felt. You struggled to maintain the connection and formulate proper thoughts to convey your need for help. Before you were able to identify who you were connected with, said connection broke as you lost concentration, your head now pounding even harder. Everything felt numb as blood rushed in your ears and spots danced behind your eyes again.

The opening of your tent flap and sunlight pouring in signalled that someone had entered your informal abode. You sheltered under the layers of your bedroll and hissed at the brightness, not able to see who came to your rescue. "Are you alright, pet? I felt you reach out to me," a sauve cool voice asked. Astarion, you inwardly cooed. The silver haired vampire noticed your aversion to the light, closing the tent flap behind him as he shuffled closer to you. "Darling, please say something," he worried. You peaked an eye over the edge of your bedroll cover, met with the handsome face of your vampiric lover. His usual lustrous saccharine eyes were soft with concern, furrowed brows showing the hidden wrinkles of his forehead. "Migraine," you managed to say, voice coming out raspy and low. The slight movement of your jaw did not help the resounding pain in your back teeth, which in turn made your head worse. "Oh, my sweet little love," he cooed. He reached a hand out and brushed it across the apple of your cheek, the slightest touch of his cold skin providing you with relief. "Let me go get, Halsin. He'll surely know what to do."

"No, stay," you whispered, wanting nothing more than for him to wander his icy hands over your head and neck. Astarion let out a sad chuckled, kneeling over you to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, my love. But I'll be right back, I promise." His icy touch left you as he careful made his way outside without letting any light disturb you.

You laid there, in silence and pain, for who knows how long. Time felt slower as the throbbing continued in your skull. Sleep refused to take you under its wings, and there was no way you could sit up and read a book. When the hulking frame of Halsin appeared in your tent's entrance way, you swore it was a godsend.

"Oh, my heart," the druid cooed when he laid eyes on you. "Halsin," you whimpered out. Tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you wouldn't let him see them cascade down your face. "I've got some natural remedies to help you with your pain, my heart. But first you need to tell me where it hurts?" Halsin softly told you, kneeling down beside you. "Everywhere. It hurts everywhere," you told your hulking lover.

Astarion quietly shuffled himself into the privacy of your tent, situating himself to sit on the blanketed ground facing the other side of Halsin. "Darling, you need to be more specific so Halsin can help you? Can you do that for us?" he coached you, taking his hand to gentle rub away the furrowing of your forehead. You audibly let out a sigh of relief at the coldness of his fingers, losing yourself in his touch. "It looks like she enjoys that, Astarion. I suggest you continue while I prepare the appropriate remedies," Halsin cooed.

You just groaned in pleasure as Astarion's lithe fingers continued to massaged away the stress in your forehead muscles. You felt them relax, and in turn you stopped scrunching your eyes shut as the pain slightly lessened. But the back of your head, right where your spine meets your skull, was still throbbing in pain, so you grabbed Astarion's other hand and brought it to the spot. The vampire spawn seemed to understand what you wanted, slowly but firmly rolling the sore tissue under his pale fingertips. A small gasp was brought to your lips and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears lessened to the point you could now hear Halsin grinding some medical herbs in a mortar and pestle somewhere inside your tent.

Liquid sloshed in a container as Halsin returned to you, having finished what he was doing. "I made you something to help with your migraine. I need you to sit up so you can drink it. Can you do that for me?" he informed. You mumbled out a small yes, struggling to prop yourself up on your elbows. Astarion wrapped an arm around your torso and gently pulled you to lean up against his chest. You placed a chaste kiss on his hand as a thank you. You were able to open your eyes now, though you still squinted due to not being used to the light, still somewhat sensitive to it. But you were able to make out Halsin kneeling beside you with a glass bottle filled with some reddish liquid inside held in his large hand.

"Here you go, my heart. Drink as much as you can," he said as he brought the glass rim up to your lips. You opened your mouth, humming as the first drop of the medicine hit your tongue. Mmm, chamomile, you thought. There was a hit of sweetness to it, as if Halsin added spoon of honey to the mixture., that craffy bear. You hummed in enjoyment at the taste, signalling to Halsin to tilt the bottle some more so you could drink more its contents.

When you almost finished the mixture, Halsin pulled the bottle away. "Not too much, my heart. There will be plenty more for you later," he teased. You mewled as you leaned further into Astarion's chest, eyes starting to feel droopy. Astarion let out a light chuckle at your affections. "I see the herbs are already working. Would you like us to stay with you while you nap, my darling?" he playfully ask. You nodded, looking up into his ruby eyes with a child-like pout on your lips. "Please. I want some cuddles," you pleaded. "Oh, darling, how could we ever say no to a face like that," Astarion cooed, placing two light kisses against your eyelids.

You repositioned yourself so you were laying on your stomach with your head on Astarion's chest. The vampire wrapped his arms around your middle and laid a kiss on your head, before settling himself back onto your sleeping pillow. Your druid partner threw an arm over the both of you as he laid on his side, his muscular chest warming your side while his chin rested lightly on Astarion's white locks. You could feel the tangling of your legs with your partners, a smile making your way to your face. "Sweet dreams, my sweet," Astarion whispered in your ear. "Rest well, my love," Halsin purred, rubbing soothing circles into your back. The scent of your loves and the sound of their rhythmic breathing lulled you back to sleep, the pain that once plagued you moment you woke up long forgotten as you laid within their loving embraces.

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sparkling-ariaria · 1 year

Text

Marauders Era fics I read and want to keep...

*Complete fem or non-specific reader insert fics*Upd: 25.05.2023

Poor bunny by robynlilyblack - Remus x Reader Y/n doesn’t understand why her friends are lying to her every month, so on one full moon she follows them…

The girl with the books by solemnarration- Remus x Reader James and Sirius notice that it’s not the books that keep Remus in the library, and are determined to know whether you – the object of Remus’s affection – return his feelings.

Beautiful by acosmis-t - Remus x Reader Comforting insecure Remus.

The gist of it by yellow-berrys - Remus x Reader You’re meeting Remus’ mother for the first time, and it’s overwhelming for her how lovely the house is.

One where he teaches you how to play the Piano by proserpina-magnus - Regulus x Reader

From a distance by still-blue-sky - Regulus x Reader Reader has a major crush on the mysterious Regulus Black and has always observed him from a distance. She never thought that he would feel the same until proven otherwise late at night in the library.

A snake and his little bird by robynlilyblack - Regulus x Reader Y/n has been keeping her relationship with a certain Black brother secret, but when James starts investigating why she's always stealing the map she's in hot water.

Smart cookie by robynlilyblack - Sirius x shy!Reader Sirius needs a tutor for herbology and he happens to be granted the shiest girl in the world to help him, luckily, he happens to love that about her.

Dote on me by yellow-berries - modern!Sirius x Reader You are completely oblivious to the way Sirius black dotes on you, and think that the way you're infatuated with him is completely one-sided. But he begs to differ.

Dealbreaker by luveline - Sirius x Reader You work in a bookstore. Sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

Forbidden words by padfootagain - Sirius x Reader You've been dating Sirius for a while now, and it's been going wonderfully well. However, when you finally confess that you love him, he find himself unable to say it back. It will take time for him to be ready to say these three forbidden words out loud, but if there's someone who can make him overcome his inner demons, it's you.

Pumpkin's father and your lover by justyoursimpleflower - Sirius x Reader Sirius and you find a kitten, apparently she is a matchmaker.

Vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche by acosmis-t - Sirius x Reader

Sirius drabble by sxriusblxck - Sirius x Reader Cuddling with Sirius after a long day spent together.

Still pretty by upsidedownwithsteve - Sirius x Reader Drunk Sirius, something cute and fluffy.

Sirius visits you at work by magicchai - Sirius x Baker!Reader Sirius showing up with flowers for his girl at work when she's having a bad day.

I can't focus because I can't keep you out of my head. by perpetuallydaydreaming - James x Reader 5 times James got distracted because of you.

Gorgeous distraction by gtgbabie0 - James x Reader James trying his best to study while you distract him.

And I love her by dilf-lover99 - James x Reader The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

You'll be in my heart by once-upon-an-imagine - James x Sister!Reader Hurt/comfort with James where a guy is making her very uncomfortable by hitting on her when James wasn’t there.

SB piece by familyvideostevie - grumpy!Sirius x sunshine!Reader Reader gets a phone call from Remus about her boyfriend moping away in a club.

E prometti domani a tutti parlerai di me by littlest-dark-age - Sirius x Reader Soft Sirius making a flower crown for his love.

Regulus dating someone from Hufflepuff by magicchai

Remus' remedy by magicchai - Remus x Reader Remus has the perfect remedy to fix his girlfriend’s migraines.

#marauders x reader #marauders x you #harry potter fic #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you

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roronoacherries · 4 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | roronoa zoro

788 words

content: comfort, fem. reader, sfw, established relationship, reader is sick and zoro is the sweetest boyfriend.

you tried to stay still, tried to be as quiet as possible, but you couldn’t stop turning in bed. and then the tears came. all you wanted to do was rest, but your body was refusing to allow you to.

that was when zoro woke, and you cried a little more because you hadn’t meant to wake him so early too. he’d been on night watch, and was surely as tired as you.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” zoro pulled you closer to him, hearing your sniffles.

“feel like shit.” you cried. you were shivering and sweating at the same time, your head was killing you, your throat felt sore, your nose was runny, and you couldn’t stop crying. and on top of it all you had to be up soon.

“you’re burning up,” zoro whispered, holding a hand to your cheek. “i’ll go get chopper.”

“don’t leave.”

“i’ll be quick.”

he pressed a kiss to your temple before leaving to find the doctor. you weren't sure how long he'd been gone and though you knew it couldn't have been long, it felt like an eternity to you. all you wanted to do was sleep. to rest and escape the pain you felt throughout your body.

instead, all you do was cry and turn and turn and turn in bed. when chopper came in to check on you, you could hardly focus on the words he spoke… but zoro — he clung to each syllable.

“a tea could help you sleep better. i’ll bring you down a remedy as soon as i can.”

“i’ll bring it,” zoro interrupted. “and i’ll ask sanji to make you a tea, too.”

his hand rested briefly on your forehead, gently brushing your hair to the side. “i’ll be right back.”

you muttered a faint, i love you and the swordsman returned the sentiment with a kiss to your temple before stepping out behind chopper. you hated the thought of chopper and sanji being disturbed at this hour for your sake. all because you’d gotten sick and couldn’t sleep. pathetic.

a fucking pirate and you still couldn’t take care of yourself. the sensible part of you could tell you that you were being ridiculous, that it was alright to depend on others sometimes, but it was hard to ignore the overwhelming voice in your head that was telling you you were being a burden, that chopper and sanji and zoro were losing sleep over you — and god, zoro deserved better.

he deserved a girlfriend who wasn’t so weak, one who wouldn’t cry from a little fever. he deserved someone who wasn’t going to spiral at 4am because he was sweet enough to bring her tea and medicine and take care of her.

“aight, sanji sent camel-somethin’ tea and a bowl of almonds and fruit, said it’d help you sleep better… and chopper told me to make sure ya take two spoons of this stuff,” zoro held up a bottle, his arms full as he pushed open the door. “how ya doin?”

“i love you and i don’t deserve you,” you whined.

“sanji said the same thing,” zoro said, ignoring your pout and setting everything down on the nightstand before helping you sit up. he pulled up a chair beside you for himself. “he went on about poor y/n and she deserves better than a big oaf taking care of her. he offered to come spoonfeed ya, actually, i could go get ‘im.”

“no, i think i’m all better now actually…” you smiled, not needing a mirror to know you looked like shit. “but if the big oaf feels like spoonfeeding me, i wouldn’t mind it.”

your boyfriend only rolled his eyes, reaching for the spoon and chopper’s bottle. “two spoons is all you’re getting. open wide, babe.”

you didn’t know if it was chopper’s medicine, sanji’s tea, or zoro’s hands rubbing circles into your skin, but it didn’t take long before you started to feel better and you were struggling to keep your eyes open. “baby, i think i can sleep okay now…”

zoro took the tea cup from your hands. “want me to sleep next to you?” he hummed, knowing there was something you were leaving unspoken.

“you’ll get sick.” you whispered.

“that’s not an answer.”

“please,” you smiled weakly, wanting nothing more than to rest your head against zoro’s chest and feel the weight of his arms around you.

you could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his body against yours.

“it doesn’t matter if i get sick,” zoro said, his eyes closed and his fingers brushing through your hair. “i’ve got a beautiful, sweet girl to take care of me.

i don’t deserve her.”

─────────────────────────────

something about zoro putting aside his pride to wake sanji and ask him to make you tea. something about zoro knowing exactly what you need without you saying it. knowing how to comfort you without being too obvious about it. him taking care of you because he knows you’re more than he deserves (and he knows that you don’t think you’re enough) and because you take care of him the same way everyday. something about zoro.

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme

masterlist | taglist

#୨⎯ sol escribe ☼#zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro x reader

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norrizzandpia · 3 months

Note

hii this is inspired by lando’s trip to Finland, I’d like to request fem reader freezing and lando constantly trying to warm her up! Something fluffy something heartwarming I think would be cute💕

Hi hi i love this!! Hoping to be back for good actually this time yall <3

My Coat, Your Coat (LN4)

Summary: Y/n is freezing. Lando is her boyfriend. There’s only one remedy.

Warnings: language and like two sexual inference

“It’s cold as shit out here.” Y/n whined, her arms shaking as they hugged her body in an effort to warm up.

Lando, standing beside her, looked down to meet her eyes, smiling softly at her pink cheeks before pulling her into his body, “I’m sorry, love. Although, would this be a bad time to say I told you so?”

What he’s referring to and what has Y/n pouting is the moment they had spent earlier that morning in their hotel room as they got ready for the day. Lando had been zipping up his last layer as Y/n stared at herself in the mirror, holding two coats on hangers and holding them up to her body as she tried to decipher which one she should wear. One coat was significantly thinner than the other and, unfortunately, the thinner one was the cuter one in her own words. Lando had tried to lecture her about what would happen if she wore the thinner one, trying to save his girlfriend from misery, but she hadn’t budged. All she done was roll her eyes and shake her head as Lando spewed off words at her.

“Beauty is pain,” She had said, Lando giggling at her and the inevitable complaining he would have to deal with later. It was a good thing he loved her as much as he did.

Now, as they stood tangled together amidst the snowy mountains, she continued to shake her head, “Yes, this would be a bad time.”

He shrugged, hugging her tighter and resting his head on the side of hers, which was nuzzled in the crook of his neck, “Does this feel better?”

She nodded, her hands in a ball between their chests as Lando’s body swallowed hers.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, Lando deep in conversation with their friend in the midst of it all. When he had fallen into talks with someone else other than Lando, he turned back to his girlfriend.

“I have another coat in my backpack, baby. I can go get it if you let me go?” He chuckled, but Y/n just groaned.

She pushed her head up a centimeter, just enough for her eyes to peek up at his, “Can’t you just shimmy over there while still holding me?”

His gloved hands pushed back the hair in her face before he kissed her softly, lips cold as ice yet warming at the touch.

“I’ll be one minute, I swear.” He gave only for her to shake her head once more.

He looked away for a moment, looking back down at her right after, “How about this, you let me get you the coat in my backpack and we take a hot shower when we get back to the hotel.”

His suggestive eyebrows went right over Y/n’s head, “Why would a shower matter to me? I take one everyday. That’s nothing new.”

He dipped his head down so his lips were right above her ear. He whispered, “You would be in the shower, I would be in the shower. I would be doing non-shower things to you.”

Y/n blushed, letting her body detach from Lando’s immediately. The boy laughed at her before moving away, going to rummage through his backpack to look for the extra layers he brought, knowing she would end up needing them.

He pulled the black puffy jacket from his bag as well as a scarf, running back over to her shivering form. She smiled at him as he pulled the coat and scarf around her, situating them on her body in an effort to salvage the outfit she had been so excited to wear. He knew she would still be stubborn about the way her clothes looked even if it risked hypothermia.

She looked down, nodding after a moment, “Much better.”

The jacket was rather oversized on her, coming from Lando’s closet, and the scarf covered the majority of her face, yet she still looked pretty as ever to him. In a moment of fuzziness over her smiling at him, Lando’s hand cradled one side of her face, moving it toward him so he could kiss her temple.

“Glad I could help,” He whispered against her skin.

Y/n giggled, “You’ll be doing a hell of a lot more tonight.”

Lando nodded as if she wasn’t joking around, face stone cold with seriousness, “Hell yeah, I will.”

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando smut #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #lando norris edit

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mechaknight-98 · 1 month

Text

Unforgiven at Lotus Junction (NSFW) Ft Chaewon

Author's Note: Cowgirl Chaewon…cowgirl Chaewon

A young man awakens with his left eye bandaged among other dressings. Fragments and flashes of memory course through his mind as he tries to orient himself, sitting up abruptly. The attending doctor notices him squirming and rushes back in.

“Sit down, don't squirm too much, or those stitches won't heal properly,” the doctor responds, and the young man complies as she finishes her work. He looks at her; she is a young woman with flawless skin and a focused demeanor. She returns his gaze with a bright smile, proud of her handiwork.

“There you go, all patched up,” she says as she tidies her tools. Turning back to him, she eyes him warily as he rises again, patting himself as if searching for something. In the young man’s mind, echoes of the ether call to him: “War, victory, win, murder, kill,” repeating in a haunting whisper. The doctor observes the young man, noting the asymmetric runes glowing on his arms. She has encountered magic before, but nothing as raw and untamed as this. It unsettles her.

“What are you looking for?” she asks suspiciously, calmly reaching for her nearby rifle.

“My tools and weapons,” the young man replies, trying to focus amidst the pain and the inexorable surge of fury flooding his thoughts. The doctor watches as he takes a few steps before collapsing once more.

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. The young man rises slowly before she can assist him.

“Easy there, partner. I don't think you're ready for that much physical activity,” the doctor cautions. He breathes heavily, attempting to steady himself and suppress the pain, but it proves challenging. The doctor meets his gaze, awestruck as his body begins to miraculously mend itself.

“How?” she asks as his brown eyes shift to a deep, eldritch green.

“Long story,” he replies.

The doctor narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Well, excuse me. Do you have somewhere to be?” she quips. He looks around and then sighs before answering, “No.”

“Good. Then tell me your story because all I know is that a tornado threw you to me,” she teases. He chuckles as his eyes revert to their brown hue.

“Okay,” he agrees, getting up. He staggers, and the doctor steadies him.

“Ugh, you're so heavy,” she jokes.

He looks down at her, and for the first time, the ether’s calling changes:

“Protect, Preserve, Endure, Revel,” chanted at intervals until his mind fell silent."Wait, tell me your name!" the doctor replied.

"What?" the young man scoffed, and the doctor rolled her eyes.

The doctor huffed. "Your name, what is it? I need to refer to you as something."

The young man looked at the doctor, confused. "I don't have one."

"So, what do people call you when they refer to you?" the doctor asked.

"They don't," the young man replied, his voice dipped in venomous rage.

The doctor sensed the sorrow and anger emanating from the young man, then smiled before saying, “Well then, I'll give you a name. From now on, I'll call you… Roland the Rebel."

The young man tried to hide his smile but couldn't. He finally had something that was his, something personal. "Roland the Rebel. I like it. I am keeping this," Roland said.

The doctor smiled. "Chaewon, nice to meet you, Roland," she said as she shook Roland’s hand.

Roland smiled and replied, “Nice to meet you, Chaewon.”

4 years later

The rebel walked into the home he shared with the doctor. He shook off the dust after riding back home from a long and arduous day working as a ranch hand for the nearby rancher. The Rebel was excited to

“Hey Puppy I'm home.” the rebel said as he opened the door to their shared abode. He took his bandana off and took two steps in. When he realized she wasn't in. he moved around their shared home and then decided to check the

He walked into seeing The doctor caring for a young boy who was recently feeling under the weather. He had a simple cold which meant she would have to give him one of her remedies. The doctor heard the door open and turned to see her “roommate” waving at her. She turned and smiled

“Hey Roly how was the ranch?” she asked curious

“Oh, you know same old same old. Mrs. Ware is still flirting with me but she knows I only have one love.” the rebel replies. The Doctor laughs as she finishes up with the boy named Thomas’ medicine. She hands it to Thomas who nods then goes over to the Rebel.

“Um excuse me, Mr Roland Sir can you take me home?” Thomas asks innocently.

The rebel turns to The doctor who nods and responds, “Yes! Please do! His mom made us pies and buns for us.” the doctor said excitedly. The rebel smiles in agreement Mrs. Hernandez (Thomas's mother) adores baking almost as much as she loves her husband (father Gabriel the priest of the town) and so she is sinfully good at it. So any chance to snag some of them is a chance well spent. So Roland puts on his gloves and his bandanna and gestures for Thomas to follow him.

As he walks out Chaewon takes off all of her Doctors gear and washes her hands. After she does so she blows Roland a kiss before saying, “Get back home safely Roly.”Roland nods as he leads young Thomas outside to his mount. When the two get on Roland’s mount Thomas asks about the weird “red things” in front of the clinic as they begin their journey.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about those. Just relics of a past time.” Roland answers

“Okay” Thomas replied and the two began their ride. For the most part, it was silent. Although Roland was well-liked in the town and considered as insensible as Chaewon due to his handiness and willingness to help anyone; the town was still wary of him. Arriving with no name out of a tornado is still arriving with no name out of a tornado. He was also spurned by the fact that he was an adrift. So all suspicions were considered admissions of guilt. However, the youngsters didn't see it that way. They just saw Roland as the friendly old guy who helped their parents and was living with the town doctor. So they were always more open to him, not by much though. Roland despite his openness tended to be reserved and very cagey with his answers especially about his past. He was a gentleman but had firm boundaries regardless.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Are you going to marry Mrs. Chaewon?"

Roland turned to the young boy, surprised but smiling. "I'd like to. I am working hard to get her a ring. I just can't afford one right now, but I'm 9/10 of the way there," Roland explained. Thomas nodded then chuckled.

"She likes you," Thomas said. "While she was patching me up, she was frustrated that you weren't here helping."

"Oh really?" Roland asked.

"Yeah, she said how you're always within arm's reach and can help her get exactly what she needs. She is appreciative that you’re doing more, but she says she misses you during the day," Little Thomas said. Roland smiled, and then Thomas asked the million-dollar question.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Why is your skin purple?"

Roland looked at the child and then said, "Well, my skin contains more of the chemical Antenalin. It's the reason why your school teacher’s skin is also pink."

"Oh, that’s why Mrs. Merryweather’s looks so sparkly?" Thomas asked, and Roland nodded. Thomas smiled and then said, “I am going to tell her when I get back to school." Roland smiled at the young boy before arriving at his home. The priest Gabriel was standing outside the door. Thomas giddily ran to his dad who lifted him.

“Dad, dad guess what Mr. Roland taught me?"

"What is it, son? (He eyes Roland) it better not have been curse words," he admonished.

"No, Dad, he taught me the reason his skin is purple."

Gabriel was taken aback by his son’s candid and excited response. "Oh, okay. What did he say?"

“He said it was a chemical called Antenalin," Thomas said with a smile.

Gabriel smiled and set Thomas down before sending him in with his mom. He faced Roland and chuckled.

“You know, for a simple ranch hand, you know quite a lot,” Gabriel said to Roland.

Roland shrugged as he responded, “Well, my parents told me knowledge is power, so I took it to heart when I had ‘higher ambitions,’ but now I’m happy I’m at peace.” As he finished, he dusted himself off before following Gabriel into his home.

Gabriel noticed Roland’s gait and affectation. “You look it. I remember when Chaewon and you first arrived together. I could see your emotions as if they were etched on your skin,” Gabriel said.

Feeling relaxed, Roland laughed before revealing, “I mean, technically they are.”

Gabriel’s eyes almost popped out at hearing that. “Wait? But that would make you a...” Gabriel responded, and Roland nodded.

“I was that, but I put that behind me, and hopefully it stays there,” Roland addressed.

Gabriel, still reeling from the revelation, said, “No wonder you know so much.” Gabriel smiled and hugged Roland. A gesture that, while appreciated in sentiment, always made Roland uncomfortable. After Mrs. Hernandez walked in and said, “Hey, Roly, I got food for you and your darling Chaewon.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hernandez.”

“Oh, always so polite. You know, to call me Izzy, Roland.” Roland apologized and graciously took the food. After that, Roland headed back to his new 'home.' When he arrived, Chaewon smiled upon seeing the food in his sack.

"Did she make the rolls?" Chaewon asked impatiently. Roland nodded and handed her one. Chaewon greedily scarfed it down and looked back at Roland with content and happy eyes. Roland smiles as he unpacks everything and has dinner with your favorite Doctor.

During the meal, Chaewon looks at Roland longingly. Roland catches glimpses of this and remembers what Thomas said. Roland looks at her and smiles graciously.

"Something the matter Chae," Roland asks hiding his knowledge.

Chaewon responds with an adorable pout, "Yeah you weren't here today. I couldn't cuddle you or use you to fetch me things,"

Roland squints hiding his intent he asks, "But Chae I thought you wanted me to help around with the bills?"

Chaewon squints back as she says, "I thought I did, but I'd much rather have my big burly nurse around."

"Okay. Well lucky for you I will be available tomorrow as Rancher Isiah is busy tomorrow," Roland Explains.

"Oh really? well, then how about we enjoy each other's company tonight," Chaewon suggests. Her implication sends a violent shiver through Roland's back. Chaewon finished her dinner and moved on to her favorite dessert Roland. Before Roland could take a breath Chaewon was already at his crotch unbuckling his pants. She smiled when his cock sprang free. Knowing all of Roland’s weak spots she blew a cold breath on his surging rod. She watched with erotic euphoria as he squirmed under.

“Come on Darling. You're this hard and I haven't even touched you yet,” Chaewon sticks her tongue out and wraps it around the tip and head of Roland’s cock. Roland groans as he spreads his legs further allowing Chaewon to explore his cock with her tongue. Precum begins to build at his tip.

Her grand finale of getting him ready for her. She wrapped her tongue around the tip before diving into his slit and lapping up his precum with an intense fervor that only separation could provide. Rolan groans as Chaewon engorged herself. He watched as she began to gag on his rod. Chaewon felt her arousal rising with each passing moment. It built making her light-headed as she stopped long enough to get oxygen to breathe before going back. She knew she had to stop herself otherwise she wouldn't be able to due to her love for Roland’s cock being down her throat. "Fuck Chae, How do you take me so well," Rolan questioned.

Chaewon knew Roland was ready for her when his eyes shifted to an intense crimson. He gets up and lifts the petite doctor to the table. She smiles knowing he is about to give her everything she's been wanting. As Roland urgently strips her Chaewon moans into his ear before nibbling on his cartilage. “Please be wild with me,” Roland nods as he pierces Chaewon. She moans uncontrollably as her pussy reflexively welcomes its favorite resident with a tight hug. He began to thrust as Chaewon enticed him to be rougher with her. She wasn't fragile after all. As Roland pumped in and out of Chaewon she brought herself up to kiss him. In between the fervent kisses she would moan.

"Ah fuck me. Fuck me harder Rebel." Hoping to satisfy her ventripotent lust for the adrift, and to his credit, Rolan would always try his hardest. As he fucked with more vigor Chaewon moaned harder as she neared her high. Roland smiled at his paramour as her moans filled their little love nest. when her eyes rolled back into her head he knew she was close.

"Cum for me Chae," Roland said and Chaewon obliged her lover. Her body tensed before her orgasm sent her spiraling into intense spasms and sensitivities. As she tried to calm herself through her high she watched helplessly as Roland kept fucking her.

"Yes, Yes, Yes Chaewon moaned as she flexed and tensed hoping to coax Roland to cum. before she could however she saw her seraph sheriff badge glow. She immediately pushed Roland off her and got serious.

"Wait Chae is everything okay," Roland asked.

Chaewon turned to her lover and nodded sweetly, "Yes I just have some business to take care of." she said. Roland nodded and said

"Well, then I am coming with you,"

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #le sserafim fanfic #lesserafim smut #le sserafim chaewon #chaewon smut

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

prove yourself

cata coll x reader r realizes cata has a protective streak, while r does not. she tries to remedy this, although it doesn't go exactly to plan. cw: creepy entitled man being gross at a bar in this. he gets a little touchy, and is promptly dealt with.

-----

It began with a seemingly harmless comment from Pina on whether similar or different people made better partners. You spent a lot of time with your girlfriend, and you’d picked up little mannerisms that the other had. As such, you thought that the two of you were more similar than you actually were.

“You and Cata are complete opposites. Cata is a hot head, she’d get into a fist fight in a second for you. You’ve watched people push her to the pitch and not lost your temper.”

You’d brushed the comment off, making a joke about how if she was right, Pina needed to find herself the most serious, most calm person on earth.

It had stuck with you, though. Was this something everyone thought? That you weren’t protective over Cata when she was with you? Did Cata think that? That you didn’t care enough to be that way? It wasn’t true, it definitely wasn’t true. You cared more for Cata than you thought possible, than you’d ever felt for anyone in all your years. Every cell, every molecule in your body loved Cata.

And sure, you were a calm person. Not outwardly aggressive on the pitch, or anywhere really. That was your reputation; cool under pressure. You shook everything off, took nothing personally. You’d never so much as had a cross word with another player on the pitch, or off of it. You didn’t argue, and you didn’t fight. Ever.

For Cata, though? For her, you’d light a match and watch the whole world burn. Cata was worth it, worth everything. It scared you that she might not know that, scared you just in general, how deeply you loved her, how all consuming it was.

As it stood, you weren’t planning on doing anything about it. Maybe you’d talk to Cata about it at some point, but you were very much someone who kept things to themselves. If you had a problem, it took a lot of coaxing from your girlfriend to get you to talk about it.

It really wasn’t intentional, what happened. A combination of things pushed the situation out of control, the biggest of them being your sudden, inexplicable insistence to protect your girlfriend.

Cata was a partier. It was well known; put her and Pina together, and combine an important win? Everyone was waking up with a hangover the next morning, whether they wanted to or not. You were very used to how rowdy she’d get in clubs, but for her part, she never really let you out of her sight. It wasn’t odd for her to get wildly possessive of you on a night out, glaring at anyone that glanced at you for too long. It had always made you feel special, but now, you were wondering if Cata wanted the same behavior from you.

The team was, as expected, out celebrating the latest El Clásico win. Cata had kept a clean sheet, and was very much looking forward to letting loose for the evening. You’d all found yourselves in a familiar club in the heart of Barcelona. The entire team was there, even Alexia, though you suspected she came to keep an eye on everyone.

For your part, you’d done well to push your current crisis out of your head, instead focusing on the spectacular performance of your girlfriend, and your own performance, which wasn’t half bad. You were in for a fun night with Cata, if not a long morning of babying her hangover, until some disgusting man decided the goalkeeper’s tight leather pants were an invitation.

Cata was further from you than she liked to be on nights out, but she’d gone up to the bar with Mario to get more drinks, and had left you safely seated next to Alexia. You watched very carefully as the man approached Cata and Mario, neither of them paying him very much attention. Even when he leaned in closer to your girlfriend, you weren’t too worried. Cata leaned away from him instinctually, stepping closer into Mario.

“Come on, beautiful, let me have your number. I can show you a good time.” He was so drunk he was slurring his words, practically falling over.

“No thanks.” Cata said back. There was a time she would have embarrassed the man, nudged him away and made a joke at his expense, but she was older, now, and more aware of how poorly that could end for her. She kept it polite and quick, trying not to show how uncomfortable she was with the man in her space.

He seemed to back off, for a second, and Cata moved away from Mario to grab 2 of the drinks the bartender was holding out for her. As soon as her back was the man opposite her, his hand was moving quickly. You blinked, almost stunned at the audacity of the man who had just gratuitously slapped your girlfriend’s ass. He must have been the stupidest man on earth, truly, seeing as though Mario instantly pushed Cata behind her and squared up to the taller man. Mariona Caldentey was an intimidating person when she wasn’t grinning from ear to ear, and she definitely wasn’t doing so now, giving the man a harsh shove to the chest.

Alexia was moving too, blinking when you beat her out of the chair, rushing off towards Cata. She, and everyone else watching the situation unfold, expected you to go to your girlfriend. They were all stunned, then, when you walked up to the atrocious man smiling smugly down at Mario, pushed your teammate gently out of the way, before balling your hand and swinging, your fist connecting with its target with a loud, revolting crunch.

How dare he lay a hand on Cata, on your Cata. Only you were allowed to slap her ass, and only when she said she wanted you to. You were angrier than you’d ever felt, but regardless, throwing that punch hadn’t been your first instinct. You’d been moving to check on Cata, when you remembered Pina’s words from earlier, and realized that this was your chance to prove to everyone, Cata most importantly, that you were just as dedicated, and just as protective of her as she was of you.

You’d had better ideas. That was clear as the man staggered backwards, and as your knuckles felt like they were splintering open. The bartender had watched the whole thing occur, and didn’t say anything as the man stumbled back towards his friends, embarrassed, clutching tightly to his nose.

“What the hell was that? He was twice your size, idiota,” Alexia scolded, spinning you around to inspect your hand as well as she could in the dim lighting. She was quickly, and unceremoniously, knocked out of the way as Cata rushed to your side, the shock of seeing you deck a grown man wearing off. Alexia gave Cata an unimpressed look, but told Cata to get you home safe, before dragging Mario, who was practically doubled over laughing, back over to the table.

Cata didn’t speak, a rarity for her, simply taking your hand very gently in hers and looking at you with an almost heartbreakingly concerned look on her face. Your hand really fucking hurt. You were pretty sure it was broken, but your attention was on Cata.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, mind not focused on your throbbing hand, but on your sweet girlfriend, who liked to act a lot tougher than she really was.

“I’m fine, really. Let’s go, you need a doctor.” The goalkeeper didn’t wait for a response, pulling you towards the door, past the table of your teammates. You noticed Mario giving a rather dramatic retelling of the event, just barely catching the look of joy and wonder on Mapi’s face at the news that you’d punched someone. Honestly, your teammates were all children.

“Baby, you’re drunk, you shouldn’t drive.” You reminded her, as she opened the passenger door to her car for you. You’d been planning on driving home, but with your hand the way it was, that didn’t seem all that likely.

“I’m not drunk, I didn’t even finish my first drink. We have dinner with your parents tomorrow night, I didn’t want to be hungover.” Cata dismissed, getting into the driver's seat and glancing anxiously at you. You were almost speechless at this, as Cata wasn’t really one to to think ahead to the consequences of being hungover. You smiled weakly at her, blinking away a few tears, both at how well your girlfriend loved you, and at how your hand was beginning to have its own heartbeat.

The goalkeeper leaned across the center console, pecking your cheek, before starting the car and driving in the direction of the hospital.

-----

It wasn’t that Cata seemed mad, per say, she was just being… odd. Not really in a way that would be clear to anyone else, but you knew her well enough to recognize the far off expression on her face as one she got when she was nervous. You decided the incident in the bar had upset her more than she was willing to admit, and vowed to bring it up again when you arrived home. As for now, you sat in the car, heading home from the hospital, with your arm carefully cradled against your chest, encased in a blue cast.Blue, as you’d insisted upon, and marked with a heart, as Cata had insisted. She’d charmed one of the nurses at the hospital into bringing her a sharpie, and had carefully inked the heart into the plaster, her tongue sticking out of her mouth adorably as she concentrated. Once she was satisfied, and you’d been discharged, she’d led you out of the hospital, keeping you pressed close to her body. She buckled your seatbelt for you, even though you were more than capable.

It came so easily to her, it seemed, being protective and taking care of you. She just knew what to do; knew to guide you into the house, knew to get you something to eat before leading you upstairs. She knew to help you get your pajamas on, the pain meds the hospital had prescribed made you a bit woozy, but knew to still let you do most of the work, knowing you hated to feel hovered over. That just wasn’t your skillset. You took care of Cata, yes, but in different ways. Ways that didn’t seem as significant, or as meaningful.

You were getting tired of her acting so weird, though. She came at you with a makeup wipe and even when she was gazing down at your face, meticulously cleaning it off, she avoided eye contact with you. If there was one thing you were good at, it was getting Cata to talk to you.

“You’re upset.”

She paused, nodding minutely, before moving away from you to discard the makeup wipe, and grab your skincare routine from the bathroom. You waited until she was back in front of you, smearing on your moisturizer, before speaking again.

“You’re allowed to be upset, Cata. That was a horrible experience.”

Her expression was still guarded, even as she nodded again. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean what happened, Cata. What that dick did.”

Cata gave you a weird look. “I’m not upset about that, bebé.”

At this, you pushed her hands away from your face, giving her a disbelieving look.

She doubled down. “I’m not. It was gross and I probably would have hit him if you hadn’t. I’m upset that you got hurt, though. That you got hurt for me.” She explained, sitting carefully next to you, as if the gentle movement of the bed under you would jostle your arm in a painful way. She was always so careful with you.

You thought she’d be happy. Not happy that you were hurt, but happy you stood up for her. You were convinced you’d be filling a gap that she’d felt, that she wouldn’t focus on your broken hand when she could focus on what you’d done for her.

“If he’d slapped my ass instead, what would you have done?” You asked after a minute, looking up at your girlfriend’s face.

Her eyebrows creased with anger at the mere thought, and there was no ounce of uncertainty in her tone. “Murder.”

You stifled a laugh, completely sure that she was serious.

“Then what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that it’s you.” Cata said rather harshly, looking at you with an intensity you weren’t used to seeing on her face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

That stung, even if you knew she hadn’t meant it in the way it sounded. You rose from the bed, feeling embarrassment wash over you as you tried to leave the room.

“Okay, got it. Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Amor, no.” Cata sighed, grabbing your good hand and wrenching you back towards her. You stumbled slightly, only blushing more as you practically fell into your girlfriend’s lap. “I just meant… I protect you, okay? You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t want you to get hurt, even if it’s for me.”

You were quiet, not convinced. Cata looked at you searchingly for a minute, before her hand raised, pointer finger tracing a light pattern across your cheek until you raised your head to look at her.

“What is this about? You’ve never done something like this before.”

“I just thought that… maybe it bothered you. That I’m not as protective towards you. ”

“No, no. It doesn’t bother me. I like it. It feels like my job, to keep you safe. This special thing that I can do to make you feel safe.” Cata emphasized, her fingers tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, her eyes looking at you with an adorable scrunch as she tried to get her point across.

“You don’t want me to be that for you, too?” You asked.

“You don’t need to punch people for me to feel safe, you do that in… different ways. You’re soft, and you’re perfect. You give the best hugs, and you make me feel better just by speaking. I don’t need you to beat anyone up for me. I just need you.” The goalkeeper responded softly, her voice growing quiet in the way it did whenever she expressed a vulnerability. “You don’t need to prove your love for me, bebé. I feel it all the time.”

At this, you leaned forward, burying your face in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrapped snugly around you, and Cata pressed her face into your hair, inhaling deeply, rather satisfied with herself for making you feel better.

“You always know what to say.” You mumbled. “And you look hot when you’re mad.”

Cata pulled away, throwing her head back and laughing. “You do too, bebé. I like you uninjured, though, so no more fights until I teach you how to punch.”

“I know how to punch!!” You cried resentfully, trying hard to keep a frown on your face.

When Cata’s eyes flickered between your face and your broken hand, a smirk tugging at her lips, you broke, laughing as you leaned back down against her.

“Fine. I don’t know how to punch.” You admitted begrudgingly.

“No, you don’t. You don’t need to. I’ll always be there to throw punches for you, sí?”

You were sure she would be. Cata loved a fight, on or off the pitch, but more than anything, she loved taking care of you.

-----

:) cata 🙂🫶🏻

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #cata coll x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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experimentfae · 4 months

Text

Alastor x Wife! Sick! Reader

Fluff / oneshot

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

You believed that when you woke up that you be completely fine and healthy well sorry to disappoint but you’re the opposite of that, you’re sick and I mean very sick.

You woke up to feel you’re skin felt hot and dry And now you had a headache that really hurt you then called for alastor which woke your husband alastor up, you heard him groan out “what’s wrong my love?” He turns to his left side to look at you just one look at you he immediately knew something was wrong making him immediately get up.

“By the looks of it you a bad fever (y/n).” “I’m fine it’s just- just then you felt like you were to vomit, and you did “oh satan I’m- I’m “no need to apologize love.” He made the one of the shadows clean the vomit. he snapped his fingers and got magically dressed to go down to the kitchen. “No worry dear I’ll make sure you get better.” Without another word he left leaving you to feel the symptoms coming to you little by little.

Alastor’s pov:

I had to make sure (y/n) got better I hate seeing her in such a sick state especially since we won’t be able to do our usual married life activities. Such as cuddling or going to our favorite places.

Just then Charlie is in front of me “hey alastor have you seen (y/n)? I need her help.” “Unfortunately Charlie my wife fell into a terrible fever so she won’t be able to help you.” I stated just then Charlie face formed into concern “oh no can I help? She always helps around here so I should repay this way.”

This would be beneficial for (y/n) “all right I need you to get my (y/n) some fever remedy medicine, make sure it’s a Belphegor brand she makes the best medcine.” I handed Charlie some money “oh no alastor let me pay for it, like I said I wanted to pay her back.”

“Well… if you say so thank you Charlie.” She smiled “alright I’ll be back soon promise.” She immediately left which now lead me to go back to make the veggie soup.

(Y/n) pov:

You felt your body aching now and “damn it why do I still get sick, for duck sake I’m dead!”Just then alastor came through the door and he immediately came to your side

“dear I know you won’t like this but you have to let me feed you.” “Alastor I could feed myself.” You then tried to lift up your arm but due to the aching it was a struggle, alastor then smirked “hmm I don’t think so.” you just sighed “please just feed me.” He smiled wider “of course.”

After his feeding you, you went to laying in the bed with alastor’s help “oh dear I forget to- just then someone knocked “that must be Charlie.” This confused you he opened the door to see Charlie with a bag “here I got the medicine (y/n).” This made you smile “you got me medicine? thanks Charlie.” She smirked in return “yeah wanted to repay you for helping the hotel.”

She then handed you the medicine. The. Alastor’s tuned to you with his usual smile “I made sure got the best medicine for you love.” you smiled “thank you alastor.” just then you felt alastor kissed the top of you’re head “al, don’t do that what if you get sick?” “that’s a risk of willing take.” Alastor stated with a care.

“Um I’ll just leave.” Charlie interrupted and she walked out leaving you two, you then turned your attention to alastor again “that vegetable soup was delicious, can you make me a Crawfish étouffée tomorrow?” “Of course I haven’t had that in a while myself.”

You then took the medicine. “With that medicine you will be better in no time (y/n), you should rest.” “Yeah you’re right I’ll gonna take a nap.” As you quickly fell asleep you didn’t feel as alastor stroked your face. Gazing at you with so much love and care.

“Get well soon.”

<- Back to MasterList or back to hazbin hotel

#hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel alastor #reader insert #fem reader #reader x character

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milfs-milk · 3 months

Text

NO MATTER WHAT YOU ARE [18+]

CHAPTER ONE - ADORATION [MINORS DNI]

[PAIRING] Female!Trafalgar Law x Reader [SUMMARY] Turned into a woman only temporarily, Law still needs a proper wardrobe. You take your now girlfriend out on a shopping date, and despite her initial reluctance, you hope to help her enjoy the experience and her new body. [CONTENT + WARNINGS] Female Law, Genderbend, Reader is femme, Established Relationship, Fluff. This chapter isn't NSFW but the next will be, so minors DNI! [WORD COUNT] 5k

“This is ridiculous.”

Not for the first time, Law hesitates. Your partner, or more accurately, girlfriend for the time being, comes to a halt just before the entrance of the lingerie store. You can see her reconsidering the necessity of buying clothes for this new figure of hers, her sharp jaw tight and full lips slightly pursed—a scowl to most, yet a pout to you. Despite being in an entirely different body, her mannerisms stay familiar.

The change is temporary. It was neither expected nor asked for, a complete accident that doused her with feminization fruit. The Heart Pirates, responsive as ever, were quick to erupt into a chaotic blend of amusement and fawning, all while their irritated Captain demanded quiet as she rummaged through her medical books in search of a remedy. But the pages offered no immediate cure, only assuring that the effects will last a few weeks before naturally subsiding.

Which is short lived in your opinion, and entirely too long in Law’s.

She doesn’t seem to harbor the same appreciation you do for her new figure, seeing this change as an inconvenience more than anything. So you hoped to make it less so, however you could. In need of a new wardrobe, you tried swapping her now oversized shirts and jeans for some of your own clothing. The two of you didn’t have much luck. She seemed frustrated with it all, annoyed, sitting on the edge of the bed surrounded by all the clothes that might’ve fit. You sat with her.

“We can always go shopping,” you gently suggested, rubbing her back as she gave you a stubborn look of reluctance, but not entirely refusal. “It could be fun. Just think of it as a date, and we’ll get you something comfortable.”

And she agreed, as much as she didn’t want to.

You couldn’t blame her. Having spent her entire life in the body of a man, the abrupt transformation into something feminine left her with a certain sense of discomfort, and perhaps what could be considered mild embarrassment. There was no reason to feel shame; not in your opinion, at least, but given the circumstances, Law’s hesitance is only natural.

Still, as the two of you stand in front of the lingerie store, you try to make light of the situation.

“Cmon, hun. Have some fun with it.” You grab her wrist, encouraging her inside with playfulness to your voice. “Doesn’t every man wonder what it’s like to have boobs?”

“I’m not a pervert,” she firmly insists. Even so, she lets you guide her, her long legs begrudgingly following along.

You huff in amusement. Maybe it isn’t entirely apparent on the surface, but if your time with Law has taught you anything, it’s that she tends to feel more than she lets on. Her reserve comes with all emotions, vulnerable or not. Laughter is stifled into subtle smiles, distress leads to emotional withdrawal, care translates into gentle gestures and quiet support.

The same pattern can be seen with all things intimate. Attraction, affection, arousal… You had to admit, she did a good job suppressing what she could for as long as she could. The sheer lust she felt wasn’t exactly controlled, but rather hidden—until she finally got a taste of you.

Only then did it become apparent. The subtle hints in her behavior that you couldn’t quite place were suddenly given a reason. You found a name for those lingering eyes, that intense gaze, her tense body language—yearning, to the point of perversion. It was a deep desire, depraved from being deprived for so long, devolving into desperation.

Not a pervert? Debatable.

“Well…” you say, tone skeptical. She shoots you a look you expected, simultaneously daring you to keep talking and advising you to shut your mouth. You always thought she was fun to tease, and she always thought you were fun to discipline. You pretend to give in, a smile on your face with your hands raised in feigned apology.

“Alright, alright. Don’t…” You let out a chuckle before you can finish, and then another as you try again. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I already told you,” she’s quick to retort, but slows and hesitates to consider her wording. She never liked saying the P word. “I won’t be wearing… those.”

“I know, hun.” You let her have this one. Despite any teasing, above all, you want her to be comfortable. She knows that. Still, you place a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle pat in a gesture of support. “We’ll find you the closest thing to boxers we can. Boyshorts are more comfortable, anyway.”

Technically, they’re still considered panties, but you don’t say that. You had to get her to wear them somehow.

The two of you stand inside the store, greeted with dim lighting and a pallet of pink and black decor, the air carrying a strong floral scent from the perfume shop next door. You’re already familiar, but Law takes a moment to scan the wide array of options—different colors, certain styles, sections of specific types of lingerie that she probably doesn't know the names of. You can tell what she’s thinking.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” you empathize. “But we’ll be quick, okay?”

She grunts in affirmation, following where you lead.

And really, you meant it. Initially, at least. It wasn’t your intention to spend longer than necessary browsing the selection of bras, but the more you thought about it, the more it became necessary. Law already insisted she wanted something simple, but this matter needs careful consideration. There’s push ups to sports bras, full coverage to strings and lace, pretty pinks and bold blues and gentle greens… She’d pull them all off, this much you know, but which would suit her best?

You glance at her chest, obscured by the oversized shirt she’s wearing. Still, your memory serves you well. You’re able to make a decent guess of her cup size after taking the opportunity to thoroughly examine her figure when she first tried on clothes. You called it studying, she called it ogling, and maybe she was right. In your defense, it was hard to resist. You sat on the bed behind her, a clear view of her front and backside as she stood before a mirror. Occasionally, she’d glance at you through the reflection between slipping on shirts and bras, but you often didn’t meet her eyes.

Your attention was fixated elsewhere, memorizing her new yet temporary features for safekeeping. Her chest wasn’t exactly flat, but wouldn’t be considered big either. She was endowed with slight handfuls that fit her slender figure, complemented with the framing of an inked heart. Long legs led to the gentle curve of her hips and pert swell of her ass, faint dimples resting right above on either side of her lower back, indents that were perfect for thumbs. Her defined back line trailed towards another familiar tattoo, up to sharp shoulder blades and shaggy, short black hair.

She didn’t stand at her usual 6’3 and a half, but she was still above average height. It was a combination of lankiness and toned athleticism. Muscle definition was apparent in the sculpted contours of her biceps, sinewy strength of her back and tightness of her stomach. Her proportions were long and lean, assets small and perky, movements fluid and poised. She always had an irresistible allure, captivating and mesmerizing, but in the form of something more feminine, you could only define her physicality as pure elegance.

“You said we’d be quick,” Law mumbles under her breath. You’re only momentarily interrupted from your thoughts of her figure, eyes meeting hers before falling back down.

“I know,” you hum leisurely. This matter can’t be rushed. You look at the two bras in your hands, and up to her chest again. “But I can’t decide if you’d look better in black or red.”

“Does it really matter?” she asks, voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement. She seems to find something entertaining in how much consideration you’re putting into this.

It takes just another thoughtful second before you come to a decision. “Well, if you insist,” you say, putting them in your hand held shopping basket, “we’ll just have to get both.”

“I said no lace.” She looks down at the lingerie in mild disapproval. Still, she doesn’t make an effort to stop you. They’re good choices, if you do say so yourself.

“Yeah, but you’d look really nice in—“

“Are you ladies finding everything okay?” An employee interjects with a friendly smile, all while Law promptly tugs at the brim of her hat, lowering it just enough to shroud her eyes. It’s a habitual gesture you’re familiar with, one she uses to shield herself when she feels too exposed, too vulnerable. You’ve seen it most when she smiles, but right now, it’s driven by embarrassment. She tries to deflect as much attention away from her as possible. You handle it.

“Just fine, thanks,” you respond. “Where are your dressing rooms?”

The woman guides you both, and Law follows in silence just behind you. The moment the employee is out of hearing range, Law’s quick to mumble a question, looking around to make sure every other person in the store is out of hearing range too. “You’re coming in with me?”

“Mmhm.” You don’t look up at her, taking a moment to organize the lingerie you’ve decided on. “Gotta make sure they fit, don’t I?”

“I think I’ll be able to tell.” She sees through your excuse, a thin veil poorly masking a desire to see her naked again.

“Well,” you say, not bothering to deny it. “It’s not every day I get to help you pick out lingerie. Better enjoy it while I can, hmm?”

You give her a cheeky smile, and still, she’s unimpressed. Holding all of her new lingerie, you open the dressing room’s curtain with your free hand and gesture her inside with exaggerated politeness.

“After you.”

Law doesn’t like to put on bras correctly. You watched her try to reach back and connect the hooks when the two of you first tried on clothes, but she quickly found another way. She said it was easier, just raising it above her head and slipping it on like a shirt, and didn’t seem to care when you said that’ll stretch it out. She does the same this time, looking unsatisfied with the result.

“It doesn’t fit.”

“Not when you put it on like that,” you say, looking up from her chest to meet her eyes through the mirror. “Remember what I told you?”

Law sighs, but listens. She seems to find something embarrassing in cupping her breasts and adjusting them into place, insisting it wasn’t necessary when you first told her it’s the only way to fit into a bra comfortably. Despite her stubbornness, it didn’t take long for her to learn you were right. With a slight forward lean, she scoops her breasts in better accordance with the bra cups, just the way you taught her.

“There you go.” You smile at the snug fit, giving full coverage and support. Even she seems a bit impressed with the cleavage it creates. “You fill it out nicely.”

She huffs at the compliment like it didn’t just make her blush, the color of her cheeks a growing tinge of red as she quickly averts her gaze from the mirror. With deft fingers, she starts pulling the bra off. Up and over her head, of course, not bothering with the hooks.

“Are we done here?” Law asks, masking bashfulness with impatience.

You nod towards the remaining lingerie hanging on the wall. “Try on the rest, hun.”

“Why? They’re all the same size.”

“Yeah, sizing is a scam. Every bra fits differently,” you tell her, taking your seat on a bench in the cramped dressing room. Eyes on her, you lean back.

“Go ahead.”

And she does. Law looks at the assortment of lingerie, hesitating for a moment before making a skeptical choice. She begins with the less intricate, going from boy shorts and sports bras before gradually making her way to the few matching sets of lace and pushups you convince her to at least try.

You evaluate each one, fully appreciating the array of colors and clothing you've never seen her in before. Each piece brings out something different in her—deep tones of scarlet and midnight blue intensifying the richness of her aura, simple yet bold black aligning with the harder side of her personality, delicate pastels tenderizing her usual toughness as the gentle hues bring out a subtle yet inherent softness. All harmonize with the ink of her tattoos, all compliment her figure, and all, in some sense, are distinctly and uniquely Law.

It’s hard for you to say no to a lot of them. She makes the decision easier by saying no herself, most options not appealing to her the same way they do to you. Still, she takes some of your input into consideration and entertains a few pieces she doesn’t directly admit she likes. Her choices, coupled with two of your own, sit to the side waiting to be bought.

“Don’t get used to this,” she makes sure to warn you when she slips on the last bra. “Once I’m back to normal, we’re burning these.”

“You say that.” Coming to a stand, your arms loosely wrap around her from behind. Wandering fingers draw attention to the set of lingerie she wears, and the two of you watch through the mirror as your nails trace along the lace in a mixture of examination and admiration. “…but they look nice, don’t they?”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she almost agrees, the low mumble unenthusiastic like she doesn’t want to admit you’re right.

“…They’re not terrible.”

“Nothing ever is.” Your touch moves downward, fingertips grazing her tight stomach in a way that makes her suppress a shiver. You settle with placing your hands on her hips, your thumbs slowly caressing the silk lining of her panties. “Not on you.”

“You’re persistent.” The words may be muttered, exasperated, but as she leans back into your touch, you feel the appreciation and affection behind them. You give her a light squeeze before pulling away.

“I’m right,” you correct her. Picking up her clothes, you hand them to her and gather your things to leave. “I’ll show you. We’re not done.”

More casual clothes are next on the list—shoes and shirts and jeans that Law isn’t too excited to shop for. Not that she was thrilled with the lingerie either, but you like to think she ended up finding some enjoyment, at least as much as she could. A familiar, soft smile became increasingly apparent with each genuine compliment and playful comment you gave. There’s a subtle yet gradual shift, her initial reluctance giving way to something more comfortable.

It’s progress, but more still needs to be made.

Outside the privacy of the dressing room, Law’s demeanor tightens just as before. She grows quiet, walking alongside you throughout the shopping center with her gaze lingering on the displays of stores you pass by. It’s not the natural, easy silence that sometimes characterizes the space between you two, but rather something more reserved, more restrained. Through polished glass windows, she watches her feminine figure in the reflection.

Something’s on her mind. Something has been on her mind. You noticed a shift since the transformation, and at first, attributed what seemed to be unease to the adjustment period. While that may play a part, it’s apparent there’s something deeper beneath the surface. And though you like to think you’re attuned with your partner, always recognizing changes in behavior and always familiar with subtle cues, you can’t quite grasp the full extent of Law’s thoughts right now.

You don’t ask. You look towards her, her mind seemingly stuck somewhere else, and even as impulse urges you to, you don’t reach out to hold her hand. Knowing what does and doesn’t make her comfortable, you move at her pace, allowing room for Law to initiate if she feels to.

Still, indirectly, you do what you can to guide her back to the present with you.

Upon your suggestion, you both stop to eat after walking past a shop that’s closest to her favorite food you’re able to find. It’s a small gesture, but still helps—sitting together and sharing a meal, taking a break from the constant movement of shoppers in every direction, tuning out the chatter of voices atop voices… In environments and situations she doesn’t enjoy, Law adapts. She always does. Even so, you offer a moment of stillness. It’s simple enough to ease some tension in her shoulders.

A bit looser, the two of you continue throughout the shopping center.

“Let’s make this quick,” Law tells you upon entering the next store, keeping her insistence on getting this over with.

You pause almost immediately. Drawn to a display of mannequins, your eyes trail over their cardigans, down to skirts with matching tights and complimentary boots. Your gaze shifts onto Law, then back, and onto Law again, just to visualize her in the outfit. If she notices, she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind. Or, perhaps, she just doesn’t want to entertain it, walking past and expecting you to follow.

“I’ll try,” you say, and hope not to get too distracted.

Though just as with the lingerie, you can’t help but muse, spending a bit more time than strictly needed looking at potential options. You have suggestions, but you don’t give them. You already know what she’ll say no to, noticing the way she seems avoidant of the more revealing and feminine options.

Instead, Law focuses on simplicity. The casual clothes are tentative choices, her demeanor even more so when it comes time to try them on. Despite any doubt or hesitation, each piece proves to be flattering. You knew they would. With a body like that, every outfit is practically made for her—a slender waist sculpted to flaunt in form fitting shirts, her defined collarbones and slight cleavage meant for low necklines, her long legs perfect for a good pair of jeans.

You approve, but Law has her own thoughts.

“They’re too tight,” she grouses, looking in the dressing room’s full body mirror with skinny jeans practically painted onto her thighs.

“They’re supposed to be.” You watch her from behind, and step closer to lift her top just enough to adjust the low waistband. “As long as it’s not tight around the waist, it fits.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She shifts, turning slightly to assess the fit.

“Does it really matter when they look that good?” you ask. Law stays quiet, not seeming to have any complaints about their appearance. You take it as slight satisfaction. Only subtly, you test her. “I can go get you a different size.”

“It’s fine,” Law tells you, suspiciously quick. When she meets your gaze, giving her a knowing smile that’s well aware of her fondness for the outfit, she defends herself. “I don’t want to wear it,” she clarifies, “but I’m not staying here longer than we have to.”

“Whatever you say, hun,” you tease lightly. Still, her words are half the truth—hours into the shopping trip with just a few more clothes to try on, Law seems eager to leave. There’s no need to draw it out by experimenting with different sizes. You sense her impatience, prompting you to hand her the next set of jeans to continue.

The checkout process doesn’t take long. As the two of you purchase a week’s worth of clothes, a persistent thought tugs at your mind. Though you know you shouldn’t, and though you know it’s unfair to her, you feel a slight bit of disappointment as the stubborn desire to see her in different styles shifts into longing.

It’s not that the choices she made were unsatisfying; far from it. Everything looks good on her. That’s exactly why there’s such an allure to more tempting options, skirts and fishnets and crop tops that are certain to enhance her features even more, but are a territory she’s not quite comfortable with. You try not to push it, letting your eyes linger on the earlier display of mannequins before looking away.

Only when you’re about to leave do you let some selfishness show.

“Law.”

You call for her attention, her name wrapped up in a wistful breath. You’re sure she’s already able to tell you’re not up to any good. From the corner of your eye, you see her turn towards you, watching with what must be a frown as you look at yet another piece of clothing. She speaks firmly.

“I’m not trying on more—“

She stops mid-sentence when you hold it out for her to see. It’s a dress, certainly nothing you can expect her to wear, but it still catches her attention. While Law may not be big on fashion, she has a sense of style. From the subtle intricacies of her earrings to the bold statements etched onto her skin as tattoos, it’s her way of expression. Even a tailored wardrobe captures her story, each piece a deliberate choice reflecting her crew, her past, and everything she values.

The dress isn’t custom made, no, but it might as well be. Slender, black and sleek, Law’s gaze lingers on the heart-shaped cutout adorning the front. It’s positioned on the center of the chest, aligned almost perfectly with her jolly roger tattooed in the same area.

There's a pause. The silent question of if she’ll entertain it lingers in the air, and for only a moment, she lets herself consider. As you watch her expectantly, you can see the contemplation in her eyes, a slight flicker of possibility. Her comfort zone has her quick to push it down. Tearing her focus away from the dress, Law forces an answer.

“No.”

But you know her better than that. That subtle softening in her gaze, you recognize it as openness. The dress may seem too feminine for her usual preference, but there’s something to it that appeals to her, embedded in both personal significance and aesthetic allure. It’s not that she dislikes it. Law’s receptive, but reluctant. All she needs is a bit of encouragement.

“Hun, this shit is practically made for you.” She already knows it, but you want her to hear it. You want her to see it, too. Lifting the dress just enough to outline her figure, you invite her to visualize it on herself. “It’s your size too. Should be long enough…”

As Law looks down at herself and the dress, another moment of uncertain consideration passes. Surely, she can see the appeal, but hesitance lingers. “We don’t have to buy it,” you reassure. “Just try it on, see how it looks.”

She’s wavering. There’s a slight shift in her expression, lines of reluctance turning inward. The furrow of her brows shows a tinge of irritation, but only because she knows she’s caving. When her eyes meet yours again, you give a gentle push that you know will tip the scales.

“For me?”

Law’s quick to snatch the dress from your hands. In a mixture of both frustration and determination, fueled by the stubborn desire to please you, she struts past and into the direction of the changing area. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’re following.

“We’re leaving after this,” Law tells you, disappearing into the confines of the fitting room before she can change her mind.

You wait. There’s a rustling of fabric behind the curtain, and the passing minutes make you wonder if you should’ve gone in with her to help zip up the back. She seems to manage, but not without apparent difficulty. Once her complicated movements settle, Law stands quiet for a few moments. You decide to speak up.

“You done in there?”

Another beat of silence passes before she responds. “…Yeah.”

“Come on out, then,” you encourage.

She’s slow to open the curtain. Law looks off to the side as she reveals herself, exposing curves she still seems to be adjusting to. They’re accentuated, the sleek dress hugging every dip and contour of her body, from slender hips to a pinched waist and up to the soft swell of her chest. You can see the sculpt of her muscles through the thin material, faintly outlining her tight stomach with wrist-long sleeves snug around her lean arms.

Only subtly, skin shows. There’s a slit opening extending from the bottom of the dress up to her lower right hip. It’s cheeky, alluring, offering a hint of her toned, shapely thighs, all while the heart-shaped cutout on the chest perfectly frames her jolly roger tattoo—just as you expected.

Law moves in the silence. Her fingers instinctively reach up to fidget with the short strands of her hair, an absentminded motion of subtle nervousness. She's quick to stop once she looks down and realizes what she’s doing, tucking the strands behind her ear in self-composure before lowering her hand. Lost in your own thoughts, you watch her, not noticing how quiet you are until she speaks.

“Well?” she huffs. In a frustrated search of your response, her gaze finally shifts towards you. You make an effort to snap yourself out of your enamored daze.

“Well,” you repeat. The right words are hard to find, but you suppose Law’s never been one for dramatics. You settle for a simple way to express her indescribable beauty. “You’re stunning.”

It’s straightforward, blunt, honest. Just the way she likes it. She’s flattered, you can tell, but she shouldn’t just take it from you. Walking towards her, you place your hands on her shoulders and turn her towards a nearby mirror to see for herself.

“What did I tell you?” you hum, a glint of pride in your eyes as Law’s gaze trails up and down her body. “You make everything look good.”

She knows. She has to—her demeanor may still be a bit tentative, but there’s a growing approval, rooted in satisfaction upon seeing how objectively flattering the dress is. For the first time since the change, she sees herself through your eyes, a vision of beauty and strength staring back at her. You hadn’t expected her to embrace the dress, or to fully grow accustomed to her new figure, and she doesn’t. But she’s beginning to tolerate it.

That’s good enough for you.

The moment is somewhat short lived. You’d admire her for hours if you could, but people around you seem to think similarly. Enthralled glances from onlookers become apparent, unwanted attention that Law promptly avoids. She tugs her hat down accordingly and turns away from prying eyes, redirecting her focus to the dressing room.

“We’re leaving now.”

That was the deal, after all. You don’t prolong it any more. Law changes back into her regular clothes, and the two of you soon find yourselves walking throughout the shopping center, straight into the direction of the island’s rocky ports. Home isn’t too far, the Polar Tang docked nearby. Despite Law’s eagerness to return, something catches her eye along the way.

An antique shop lies just ahead. Law’s gaze lingers, surely trying to peek through the glass windows for a glimpse of what the shop could offer. Her collection of commemorative coins is something you’re fond of, something endearing, a hobby she could spend hours rambling about if she let herself. Whenever the topic comes up, you always indulge her, but you feel encouraging her interests isn’t enough. She needs to be spoiled.

“I’ll buy you something,” you offer, already knowing she’ll want to see if there'd be anything to add to her collection.

“You’ve bought me everything.” Law glances at the bags of clothes you insisted on holding for her.

“I’ll buy you more.” Your assurance carries a subtle playfulness as you head towards the entrance, coaxing her to follow with the soft chime of the door’s bell.

Above all else, you want Law to enjoy herself. It’s only natural as her partner, prioritizing her happiness and comfort like it’s second nature. Still, you know she never wanted to spend her day clothes shopping. You feel as if this could help, inviting her to shop for something she wants to buy rather than has to.

Yet despite your continuous efforts to help her enjoy herself, and to perhaps ease her into the unfamiliarity of her changed body, there’s still an apparent weight lingering on her mind.

Even as Law becomes engrossed in an intricately crafted coin display, her focus soon shifts back to you. You can feel it. Pausing from across the shop, you meet her eyes with a questioning look. She simply blinks, breaking the momentary connection to redirect her attention back to the coins as if nothing is wrong.

You’d believe it and chalk her silent stare down to her usual introspective awkwardness, if not for the touch of vulnerability in the depth of her eyes. It was like an unsaid question, a stubborn thought part of her wants to voice, but can’t quite find the words to do so.

You hope to give her the opportunity. When the two of you continue back to the submarine, distancing yourselves from the island’s townscape and the eyes of its people, your affection turns more physical. The way your hand lingers on the small of her back offers a subtle sense of security. It expresses openness, reassures support, softly reminding her that you’re here.

She stays quiet throughout the walk, and you don’t mind. She doesn’t need to force it. Aware of how difficult it can be for her to express complicated emotions, you’re patient, staying by her side to listen when she’s ready. It’s unconditional, nonjudgmental, tender and genuine and devoted. All you want is for her to know that.

Maybe tonight, you can remind her exactly how much you love her.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #trafalgar law smut #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #my writing

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