#some cozy cottages <3

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x yn #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x yn #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #mclaren #oscar piastri fic #Spotify

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀

EDIT: we have a PART 2!!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat

MASTERLIST // PART 2

It had been Laswell’s idea. 

The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.

Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.

He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training. 

It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face. 

“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”

“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.

Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”

Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.

❄️

The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms. 

You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.

❄️

The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least. 

“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish. 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.

“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way. 

You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.

“Sorry, last one.”

Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.

“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation. 

When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago. 

You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.

❄️

The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world. 

The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good. 

You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.

❄️

You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.

Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices. 

“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”

You groan in response, but you go back in position.

“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.” 

Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.

“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.

“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.” 

He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.

The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks. 

The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.

❄️

Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.

They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold. 

The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.

You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you. 

They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you. 

It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars. 

He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks. 

“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm. 

Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.

“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

PART 2

#cod fanfiction #captain price x reader #polyamory #poly tf141 #poly 141 #price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #winter fics

[dolli-is-me]

Chapter II: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕, 𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Welcome back to my cozy cottage! Relax, and sit back, I'll provide you the best effective routine that I have ever made, by using my whole knowledge of 3+ years in the field of void state and the subconscious and conscious mind, dabbing in subliminals and finally finding the key, this routine is for anyone, I personally used it for a couple of days and I can assure you, it works wonders, it soothes the mind, helps you realize what the void really is, and how it doesn’t matter how much you tried and failed, this routine is something special I'll share ♡

𝑩𝑬𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑬𝑬𝑫, 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫: please bear in mind, the void DOES NOT need any routine nor it needs any special work, the void is you, you enter it every night, you have the key in your hands. This routine/guide I made is just a simple bearing way to help you let go of the void and let it come to you, a guide i made that has some helpful information to anyone needing it, remember, you control your reality, you decide how to enter the void, and you decide when to, with that being said, lots of love ♡

Chapter one// an introduction to the void, what is it?

“the void, merging nothing and everything at once, sit back and relax, the void has no hurry”

A state of awareness, where an individual is at it's most calmest point, a point where you feel an extreme wave of calmness and peace, with the feeling of reassurance, hope, and positivity, in this state, nothing that you have not intended for it to happen, will simply not happen

Why? Because you, are the void, you, hold the control over the void, you have the key, you turn the way the key should turn.

One might argue, but how can I reach it?

Reach it? You have already reached it, it's within you, it's you, you enter it every night.

The void state is a state of awareness ,it's not something you have to achieve to get the benefits, the void itself is you, your consciousness

The void is recognizable once being aware in it, it's a place where you are detached from being the one you are binded to in this reality, you'll feel weightless, formless, some report they feel like a “slime-like substance”, as to what it looks like, it depends, some say it's a certain color, yet most have an established idea that it's a dark dark place, some could say they are surrounded by stars, it's up to you and your consciousness

So, what makes it so popular and special in this community?

It's the sole fact that the void cannot block the desires you give it, it will manifest instantly the moment you intent to, nothing, I repeat, nothing, is impossible in this state, bending the fabric of reality can happen so easily as a human who had detached it's consciousness from it's being, that what makes the void special

Now I made it sound so special and such, we'll get the catch here, it's completely something easy as special as it sounds, and no, I am not saying this as a way to make you be positive or such ever, it's simply the hardcore truth, that this? Is the easiest thing

The void is within anybody, regardless of anything with them, it doesn't matter, it has no boundaries, no limit, nothing, but you are everything there

Chapter two// The switch

Now that we truly understand what it is, how about we go through methods? Surely you have seen such thousands of methods and tips, sometimes might overwhelm you

This is completely alright, it's nothing bad, take a seat, keep calm, understand you'll eventually enter any time, so why panic?

You can choose whatever you want to your liking, however, many report they feel more motivated when they follow a routine

Let it be, I have come up with a challenge x routine for you, and please please understand, this DOES NOT mean you have to use this to enter the void, no, in fact, you can snap your fingers and enter the void, the void doesn't need concepts or such, but concept had helped those with desperate mindsets, so it can help

In short, go with whatever your guts tell you, because the subconscious mind sends you these subconscious messages through gut feelings, and for sure your subconscious knows your body way more than anyone, trust it and follow it's instinct

Let's start shall we now?

( The void switch routine )

This routine will be heavily insisting upon reprogramming the subconscious mind, and before you say anything, no, it won't take 21 days or 4 or anything- it takes how many days you assume, in this routine, there is no deadline, simply do this until you reach it, it's easy and very simple, I'll teach you to effortlessly impress both the subconscious and the conscious mind for the void

- Use this one affirmation only for the rest of the routine

“Subconscious mind, ensure me to enter the void at will”

Or whatever else you choose, to, just remember, please use the term “subconscious mind ____”

- Upon waking up, tell yourself this affirmation, tell yourself as though you're just saying some fact, repeat it for some time while you are groggy, because in this state, it's a state of the theta mind, it will pick up affirmations easier

- Now I highly suggest this, to listen to [Lotus Mi’s pure affirmation tape], doesn't matter how long or when, minimum amount of time you have to listen is at least once, you can loop it through the night if you want to, it's completely optional, the pink link above will lead you to the subliminal

- Now, this here is extremely important, whenever you get a thought of the void or anything related, feel that have already reached it and have it, feel like you're a master at the void, repeat your affirmation and believe in it

- Now, comes the important part, before sleep, I want you to lay in bed, get comfortable, and just actually prepare yourself to sleep, do something that you'll get sleepy with, a state where you are so groggy and so sleepy but not sleeping yet, in this state, command your subconscious mind, tell yourself that chosen affirmation over and over till you sleep, I swear, it's extremely important and it's the highlight of the journey, you are reprogramming your subconscious, just like how Joseph Murphy said “give your subconscious a problem before you sleep, and let it solve it for you while you fall in sleep”

That's it! That's the routine that I've been taking literal two weeks to test it off and it's extremely efficient, it worked so so well for me, I'm sure you'll immediately see the difference once you try it, the subconscious mind is a treasure

(for more detailed way about the “command your subconscious mind before sleep” technique, here you go)

1. Get comfortable in bed, just be like other days and get yourself to sleep

2. Stay awake until you get physically so tired, and I know some might say they would have problems with that, you can count until you feel groggy, or daydream, or listen to music, do anything that makes you go sleepy but not sleeping yet

3. Now comes the important part, close your eyes for sleep and simply command your subconscious mind over and over again, tell yourself that affirmation I told you about, do that till you fall asleep

Good luck for anyone who tries this! I made it extremely easy and fun, it doesn't require that much energy at all! Also if I had mentioned anything that should be credited, then I'm extremely sorry and full credits goes to the right owner, I love you all and hope you a wonderful day, you can do this, I'm so proud of you 💗

Love~ Dollie💌

“C-c-c-collect…my fickle insecurities…and turn them into beauty…I alchemize the dark within me” - Melanie Martinez

#dolli memories posts! #manifesting #void #void state #void challenge #subconciousmind #subconscious #void success

[optimist-pine]

Dream

Summary: in which Daryl discovers something about his heart

Warnings: Typical TWD content

Word Count: 1,021

Era: Season 4, the Claimers

A/n: The most selfish thing I've ever written - but also my favorite <3

Wooden boards creak beneath the soles of his boots as he climbs the stairs of the cozy cottage. Beside the front door, using the wall as a brace, he toes off mud-caked shoes, adding them to the pile of others, all smaller than his own. Dried clumps of dirt scatter about, some falling through gaps in the porch to join the barren ground below. The lanky old tomcat abandons sunbathing to rub lazily against his pantleg with a purr, and Daryl appeases him with a good scritch under the chin.

The screen door is unlocked as always, and as he crosses the threshold into the home his heart settles into a comfortable lull. A breeze flows in through open windows, ruffling faded curtains and artwork made by tiny hands taped to walls; fluttering the pages of a book laying open and knocking over pieces of a board game strewn about the floor. It fills the space with the gentle sounds and smells of early summer. Blooming flowers and birdsong.

He sets his kill down as he passes through a kitchen that bears the remains of freshly baked muffins, few left intact in an abundance of crumbs. Out of a cooling teapot wafts a pleasant blend of lavender, cinnamon, orange, and clove.

He pauses for a moment before the back door, listening as laughter and high-pitched squeals echo just beyond it. Then, pushing his way to the other side, his heart leaps. He's barely taken a step when he's bombarded.

"Daddy!" Voices shout as a tangle of little arms entrap him, tiny bodies clinging to his legs and stepping on his toes. A baby's happy shrieks add to the clamor of giggles as he ruffles sun-warmed heads, attempting to tug his feet forward.

But then they get him down and he lands with an 'oomph' in the soft grass, sharp elbows and knees clambering across him like he's a new piece of playground equipment to explore. The dog's licking his face, and the baby's hands clap excitedly and now everyone's laughing.

"Woah woah woah, time out." And there you are. You lean over the chaos with a grin, the sun framing your silhouette as tree branches sway behind you. You smell like spearmint and lily of the valley, cheeks pink from working the garden, and as your hand comes to rest on the slight bump of your belly he knows he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Did ya leave somethin' dead on my table again, mister?" You question, hands moving to your hips in an attempt to be stern.

There's no getting away with denying it, so he'll plead his case instead. "Ain'tcha gonna help me out 'ere?" He asks, reaching a hand up to you.

You ignore it with a shake of your head. "Guilty men must pay for their crimes." With a sharp nod, you turn to the children. "Show 'im his punishment." You instruct, bare feet making way to gather up the baby who's beginning to feel left out.

Those itty-bitty fingers are too good at finding every secretly ticklish spot, and he can only hold out for so long before he has to wriggle away from their assault.

On his feet again, he reaches out and spins you toward himself breathless and spirited. "Guess if 'm already a criminal I migh' as well steal'a kiss." He says, moving his hand to cradle your bump and the little one growing inside.

"Might as well, huh?" You repeat, the smile on your face so radiant that when your lips touch an overwhelming contentment courses through him. A soft, pudgy palm lands on his cheek and the two of you pull apart to the wide eyes and dulcet coos of the baby. He cups his other hand around the little head, placing a tender kiss on top.

The little rascals waste no time returning to their ruckus, tugging at him to follow. "Daddy, c'mon! We gotta show you somethin'!"

"Yeah! C'mon, Daddy!" The voice cries.

But he's stuck in place, unable to move as everything begins to fade away.

... No... Daryl can feel consciousness pulling at him, roughly dragging him into a new day. He begs his mind to stay; to linger. He never wants to leave this moment, a memory of something that never happened - that would never happen. But he can't stop it and he wakes on the cold cement, eyes opening only to focus on the bloodied floor where a man took his last breath a few hours ago.

He knows now. He can't stay with these people. The desperate ache in his chest reminds him of everything he'll lose if he gives up now. Even if all he loses is a dream. It would be too much.

That night, ready to make his move and depart from the men while they're distracted, he hesitates, just for a second, his heart dropping suddenly into his stomach. It's Rick, and Michonne, and... you. Sitting on a log right there, so close, face illuminated in the flickering firelight. Even in the darkness, he can see the swell of your abdomen holding his future - your future.

Your eyes find him at the same time that the barrel of a gun is aimed at your head. He's never felt a fury like he does now, all-devouring and consuming...

When it's over, you pull him close, burying your face into him like you can hide away in the folds of his clothes and the beat of his heart. His arms wrap around you so tightly, and oh - how he wishes he could keep you right here, where he knows you'll both be safe and protected. But he can't.

You pull away slightly, just enough to whisper, "We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

He nods, one hand on your belly and the other bringing your head back to his chest. Just for one more moment. He desperately wants to tell you his dream. To tell you that he believes that too. But he settles for, "I love you."

Your voice echoes back, clear and true, "I love you too."

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 4 #optimist pine

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: There is a Lion living in your chicken coop. This sounds like the setup for a really bad joke--you wish it was.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

There were wards carved into the wooden pillars of your small cottage that had existed long before you’d made your home here, and they had an ancient, cloying, sort of magic to them that always left you feeling swaddled in bubble-wrap comfort—safe and secure. Even against angry Skin Changers banging down your door.

“You won’t be able to cross the threshold unless you’re invited,” you called, hoping it might deter him from actually destroying your entire porch.

There was an irritated growl from the other side that sounded an awful lot like he was probably still going to wind up trying to put his claws through the paneling, so you pulled the door open once more and stepped aside with purpose.

“You are not welcome,” you said, cheerful, before gesturing for him to try and step inside.

The Lion Man sneered at you, his ears flattening pissilly atop his head as if such a fluffy show of irritation could ever be intimidating (even if he wasn’t drenched down the bone), and he moved to make his way into your home. But when his sandaled foot reached the threshold, he stopped. You watched as his brow furrowed and something darkly frustrated slithered across his handsome face. There was no great arcane barrier or explosion of magical prowess—just a gentle shudder you could see creep along his limbs as he tried to force himself to move and couldn’t.

“Was there something you needed?” you asked, after what was perhaps a too-long moment of watching him stew in a mucky mix of rainwater and his own burbling rage.

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning up against the well-beaten doorway like the slouch was supposed to be intentionally casual, and not because he literally couldn’t move anywhere else.

“I need your help,” he said—demanded. He stared down his nose at you like you were some sort of unpleasant looking bug crawling across the floor.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “And…?”

“And what?” he demanded.

You rolled your eyes towards the ceiling and mercifully gave him through a silent count-of-ten to try and figure his shit out. When all he did was curl his lip at you like a petulant noble in court, you sighed and turned back on him with a cheerful, customer-service, quality smile.

“Thank you for your inquiry,” you chirped. “But I’m afraid I’m all full up for the day. Good afternoon.” And closed the door in his face yet again, but this time with a polite, little, wiggle-wave of your fingers as you went.

The next morning arrived altogether uneventfully. The rain had stopped sometime during the evening, and the lingering moisture had left your little homestead shrouded in a lovely cloud of fine, glistening, mists. You headed out into the soft chill with a pleasant hum and armfuls of treats for all your critters.

And then you noticed that there was an extra animal making itself at home in your little farmyard—one that you’d assumed had eventually given up and stomped back whichever way he’d came.

The Lion Man was sleeping in your chicken coop—perfectly contentedly, too. Which you wouldn’t have expected from a near mythical creature dripping in precious gems and who spoke with all the haughty self-assuredness of someone who’d never been told ‘no’ in any way that mattered.

You glared at him for a moment or two, hoping the searing irritation in your frown would be enough to poke him awake. But the Lion Man just laid there, cozy as a clam in his bed of shredded hay.

“You’re scaring Penelope,” you huffed, loud, and tossed a handful of seed by his feet.

The birds squawked and hopped up to peck brainlessly at the treats—unbothered by the predator lounging in their nest. The rustling of their feathers and tap-tap-tap of their little beaks at least seemed to finally wake the lazy Lion Man, and he opened one glowing, emerald, eye to glare balefully at you.

“They don’t seem like they give a shit,” he rumbled at you, voice still thick and syrupy with sleep. And indeed they did not, bopping around without a care in the world. Your aforementioned Penelope had even shuffled herself into the Lion’s lap to reach some of the seed that had fallen into the folds of fabric pooling at his hips.

“Why are you in my chicken coop?” you asked, as polite as you could manage. It still sounded like you were giving yourself a root canal.

He stood with a languid stretch and your birds clucked at him irritably for a moment before settling into the warm spot he’d vacated.

“It was raining,” he complained. Like it was obvious.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and tried again. “Why are you still here?”

“I already told you, herbivore,” he yawned. His long, white, canines, glinted in the morning sunlight. “I need your help.”

You sighed a miserable sort of sigh and fought the urge to dig your thumbs into your eyes.

“Forgive me for not jumping at the opportunity to assist the person—or, sorry, whatever it is you are—who abandoned me to die in a hole,” you harumphed, turning pointedly to start trudging back to your cottage.

“You got out, didn’t you?” the Lion griped, slipping forward to dog at your heels.

“No thanks to you!” you accused, jabbing a finger in his direction. He rolled his eyes and you could practically feel the steam leaking from your ears. “I helped you once already,” you pointed out testily. “Twice, if you count all the rations you gobbled up. And you still left me behind without a second thought! Why should I bother doing anything else for you?”

His face twisted up into something sour. The grin he shot your way was all sharp teeth and vinegar.

“Ahh, that’s right. I should have remembered—humans are only willing to barter their aid if they’re going to be repaid in kind. So. Tell me. What do you want then, hmm?” He scoffed. “Wealth? Power? Protection?”

You stopped at the door to your home and spun on him, angry.

“This has nothing to do with being repaid,” you seethed. “This is about decency!”

He scoffed again and you fought the urge to just hurl the entire basket of seed into his smug face. Because you were clearly the adult in this situation and needed to act as such. Sure, Mister Lion Dude looked close enough to your age, and you knew well enough of Magic Beasts to understand he was probably decades your senior—if not entire generations—but clearly a wealth of time left no account for manners. So you were going to have to step up and be the mature one here, and not waste an entire week’s worth of grit on the petty urge to upend it all over his stupid head.

With a heavy sigh that was more a gust of incompressible cursing than anything else, you placed the basket aside and turned to him with a stubborn pout.

“Alright, then. A deal—as you’re so insistent that you know exactly what every one of us stupid humans wants. I’ll help you again. If—” you declared, “—you say you’re sorry.”

He frowned, that righteous loathing giving way to a heady mix of even more irritable confusion.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” he snipped, turning his nose up at you.

“Then I have nothing to help you with,” you smiled, barbed, and swiveled to retreat into the safety of your cottage. “Good afternoon, Mister Lion. And please don’t eat my chickens.”

The Lion did not, in fact, eat any of your chickens. Or your geese, or ducks, or even the little rabbits that lived in the walls. He’d passed out beneath one of the overburdened fruit trees that grew along the edge of the forest and slept there for the entire evening—sprawled out amidst the roots like the rough bark was as comfortable as any other luxurious bed. He was still there now, snoring softly beneath the gentle, yellow, warmth of the morning sun.

You watched him for a few quiet moments, throat catching on a curious little hum. You wondered how long he was planning to skulk about your little homestead. You wondered how he wasn’t cold and miserable every night. And surely he must have been ravenous by now. It’s not like you’d seen him eat anything.

So you raided your icebox for leftovers and heated them on the stove until your cottage was filled with the cozy smells of well-seasoned meats and sweet, berry, tarts. You packed up the meal into a neat, little, box, wrapped it all up in a tea towel to seal in the heat, and then dropped the thing in his lap hard enough to startle him awake.

The Lion glowered down at the mesh of checkered fabric in obvious distaste. But then the scent of what was tucked within said wrappings must have made its way to his nose, because some of that ire seemed to melt away and he sniffed curiously at the air.

“Thank you for not decimating my livestock population,” you said.

“You told me not to,” he snapped, tail whipping angrily at his rear. He reached out to pick at the folded edges of the parcel with a perplexed sort of expression twisting at his mouth.

“And you didn’t,” you responded with a shrug. “It’s appreciated.”

With that, you left to go about your daily business. Your garden needed tending, and one of the corners of the fence needed a new patch to keep it upright. You also hadn’t seen much of your foxes since Lord Lion had decided to make himself at home, and you wound up spending far too much time crawling around on your hands and knees—looking under bushes and into holes as you waved around a juicy chunk of roast beef in hopes of tempting them out.

There was the telltale crunch crunch of someone stepping through the dirt to stand at your side, and you glanced up to see the Lion Man looming over you with a heavy scowl—arms crossed loose over his chest.

“Is this what you do? Everyday?” he asked, sounded insultingly incredulous. His face was twisted up into a sneer that was entirely unimpressed. “Crawl through the muck like a worm?”

“Not every day,” you said after a moment of consideration. “And worms don’t have limbs. I’m more like a cockroach, maybe.”

He scoffed. “And you have the nerve to think that you’re too good to help me.”

“I never said that,” you frowned, sitting back on your heels and brushing some of the dust and grass from your pants. “I just said you needed to apologize first.”

“I’m not sorry for anything,” he said again, just as put out as before.

You waved a finger at him in a gentle tut-tut. “Ah, but we’re making progress. See, earlier you said there was nothing to apologize for at all. Now at least you’re recognizing that there is, in fact, an anything.”

You swayed your way back to your feet before he could launch into another rant about your mortal ridiculousness.

“A friend of mine hunted down a White Moor Stag last week,” you said, brushing the last of the grit from your knees. “It’s supposed to be delicious, and I’ve had some of the cuts marinating for a while now. You see, it’s this whole mess with orange zest, and molasses, and these little Red Eye chilies that I’ve been growing for ages now—”

The more you rambled, the more constipated he looked. So you cut yourself off and rubbed at the back of your neck, just toeing the wrong side of embarrassment.  

“R-Right. Anyways. I’m going to be cooking some of it up tonight to try. So—Well,” you waved your hand awkwardly around your head in a gesture that even you weren’t entirely sure made any kind of sense. “If you apologize before then, you’re more than welcome to come in and have dinner.”

He scoffed. “That’s not exactly a worthwhile offer when we both know you’ll just end up bringing me some tomorrow either way.”

You sighed.

“Probably,” you admitted. “Well. See you in the morning then if you’re still around, I guess.”

“You’re terribly accommodating to unwanted guests,” he sneered after you as you climbed the set of stairs that made up your teeny porch, and you waved him off with a grumble.

What was so wrong with being civil, huh?! You liked to think that your little cottage was homey and welcoming. You took in weird guests all the time! And you liked being known as that awkward but friendly recluse who could offer a wandering adventurer a fresh set of laundered clothes and a good meal. It was how you’d met all your other friends. Odd as they all were. In fact, if you were being perfectly honest, in comparison to some of your other compatriots, Mister Lion really probably was the most societally acceptable definition of ‘normal’ out of the bunch. Which was—not to rag on your dear friends or anything—but that was certainly… Uh…

You spent the afternoon shuffling about your kitchen, and then a long evening searing the meat to perfection. It tasted absolutely divine—totally ‘making noises not meant for polite company’ and ‘curling your toes under the table’ levels of yummy. You happily set aside some portions for your friends whenever they inevitably stopped by (with an extra-large and prettily packaged one for your Hunter), and then packed a small box of leftovers to set at the front of the icebox. Just as the Lion had said you would. Because unlike him, you were nice. And kind. And really didn’t want him to get hungry enough to start eyeing your chickens in earnest.

The next morning when you ventured beyond your front door, you noticed something a bit odd.

Your brow scrunched and you shifted the little box of meats into one hand so you could use the other to poke around your very neat looking garden.

“I don’t remember weeding this yesterday…”

Nor had you had time to fix the fence amidst all your fox chasing. Or prune the berry bushes. And normally your trimming was not quite so, err, ugly, lopsided, like the work of a toddler with safety scissors imperfect. More of a scorching, really, than any kind of clipping. There was a soft dusting of glittering, arcane, sand scattered along their roots.

The Lion snorted and snatched the food from your hands with a scowl. It was a weird, tiny, twisty expression—and way more performative than he’d probably intended it to be.

“Then you must be even stupider than I thought.”

“Huh,” you mused, plopping yourself down on one of the low-cut stumps and resting your chin in your palm. You tried to hide the amused tick of your lips behind your fingers. “I hadn’t thought that would be possible. What’s lower than a base zero?”

“Negative numbers exist,” he sneered and sat cross-legged in the grass across from you to devour his plundered meal.

You hummed and rifled around in your pockets. You unearthed another wrapped treat and passed it his way.

“Thank you for cleaning up,” you said.

He scoffed and took a too-large chomp out of his food, eyes averted towards the ground. “Whatever.”

The Lion followed you around the rest of the day—always at a distance, and always with a perpetual cloud of scathing comments settled about him like a swarm of buzzing bees. You just hummed through the streams of pessimistic angst and continued your chores. Mostly he just watched you toil away. Occasionally you’d toss him a berry from a bush you were replanting, or share some bites of the granola you’d tucked into one of your pockets. He accepted each treat with an upturned nose and absolute indignity. But he ate each and every morsel, and you noticed him go back to swipe another berry when he thought you weren’t looking.

He still outright refused to apologize, so you took your dinners alone. But he did help you move some thorny branches, and didn’t even complain too much when Penelope the Chicken made herself a nice bed in his lap. You brought him one of your spare blankets—a big, old, fluffy thing that you’d once hoped would be a bit magical, as you’d spun it together from some enchanted wool. It was not, which was disappointing. But it was still warm and pretty, so that was fine.

The Lion scoffed at it, but you just left the folded-up mess of soft fluff by his side with a pointed pat-pat-pat before returning to your own cozy bed for the night.

When the sun rose the next day, you woke to a familiar, scraggly, redhead at your door. Ace smiled at you through a layer of grime thicker than the shirt on his back, and you immediately herded him out towards the backyard to dunk him in the pond.

“What did you even do?” you asked, upending another bucket of water over his head. “You look like someone tied you to the back of a horse and dragged you the entire way here.”

He shivered petulantly. “I didn’t do anything! I swear! And nothing happened!”

Splash went the next bucket.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” he corrected, and you handed him a towel as a reward for his vague attempt at honesty.

Eventually Ace managed to weasel his way out of the frigid pond and into a fresh set of clothes. He sighed, content, and set about lounging in the sun like a fat, lazy, tom cat. Which, speaking of lazy, lounging, cats…

You glanced around your little farm, but your new Lion companion wasn’t anywhere to be found. Huh. How strange. You retreated back into your home to collect some of your leftovers before returning to your friend. You carefully balanced one of the boxes atop the fence as you went, just in case the Lion did come around looking for a snack.

You handed the other to Ace, and his mouth nearly started watering at the sight.

“No Deuce this time?” you asked, peering back out towards the dirt road—half expecting to see the warrior sprawled out in a ditch or something just a few paces down the path.

“Nah,” Ace sighed, kicking up his feet and letting out a heaving sigh that sounded like it weighed more than the thick, traveler’s, pack usually strapped across his shoulders. “He stopped back in town to drop off a letter for his mom.”

Ace moved to dig into the food in earnest, and you lit up at his enthusiasm.

“This is from that Stag,” you beamed, and his face went a bit pale. “Remember? The one we could barely fit through the shed door even when we got all six of its antlers off? I finally got around to cooking it.”

“That Hunter brought this?” he asked, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“I mean, who else could kill a White Moor Stag?” you laughed, and Ace’s expression was shifting into something that looked a bit too close to sea-sickness for someone sitting in a soft patch of grass in the heart of a landlocked prefecture.

You reached forward to pluck up a bit of one of the juicier steaks between your fingers and shoved it firmly into his mouth. The indignant spluttering that followed rapidly melted into near moaning, and whatever hesitance was brewing in that empty skull of his dissipated in the face of such a pure, culinary, masterpiece.

You leaned forward eagerly when he began to shovel the stuff into his mouth like a dying man inhaling his last meal. “How’s it taste? I tried using rinds this time in my marinade instead of just the orange pulp, and also tried whole ginger slices rather than the ground up kind, and—"

“Yeah, yeah,” Ace waved you off around a mouthful of half-chewed meat. “Food magic, and fancy things, and whatever. Can’t you just let me enjoy this stupid, terrifying, meal in peace—”

A clawed hand slammed down over the top of the makeshift lunch box with an echoing ­­thwack, and the redhead lurched backwards with a startled squawk.

“If you’re not going to bother listening, you don’t deserve to eat it,” the Lion huffed, snatching the portion for himself and gracefully folding his unfairly lithe limbs to plop down at your side.

“You’re one to talk,” you blinked, taken aback at his sudden appearance. And blatant hypocrisy. Like. Come on, dude.

He was close—far closer than he was normally willing to get to you and your human cooties. Practically slotted up against you from hip to shoulder. His tail curled up and around your wrist and you could feel the tip of it twitching irritably against the soft skin at the heart of your palm. That aloof, emerald, glower of his was fixed on Ace with just a touch too much ire to really be considered indifferent, and his ears were pressed down into stiff, flat, lines atop his head. You blinked again, wide eyed and a bit confused. Huh. Maybe he just wasn’t a fan of strangers.

“When have I ever interrupted one of your ridiculous tangents?” the Lion snipped at you, pointedly popping the thickest, juiciest, slice of the bunch into his mouth. It shredded like tissue paper between his canines and Ace audibly gulped.

“You make faces at me,” you argued petulantly, and immediately felt like a toddler.

“But I always listen,” he shot back, equally as bitchy. And also… surprisingly earnest. Even if he was being as miserable about that sincerity as he was about everything else.

His green eyes flicked down to meet yours for a moment—two, three, four—before swiveling back towards Ace and narrowing all over again. And yeah, you’d assumed that the Lion had looked irritated with you plenty of times before, but the sneer he was giving Ace was all sorts of unpleasant. Rivaled only perhaps by that open, spiteful, hatred when he’d turned to bear his fangs at the metal spike trap twining around his legs and keeping him trapped in that pit.

His lip twitched up, almost like a snarl, before he continued, “Even an herbivore like you deserves that at least.”

Then the Lion reached around you to snatch the checkered tea towel wrapping from its place discarded at your friend’s feet, jostling you ridiculously all the while and practically bullying you into his lap with his flailing elbows in the process. He idly wiped the mess of sauces and drippings from his fingers before tossing the fabric back into the dirt—this time at his feet. You rolled your eyes at the petty theatrics and shot Ace one of your patented ‘man, what a day, am I right?’ looks, that he responded to with an expression that looked more like someone had just punched him in the nuts and threatened to wear his skin as a suit than it did any sort of real life, rational, human, emotion.   

The Lion’s arm tightened from its place at your waist—where he’d lazily left it after that initial reach around. You settled back against him with a good natured, if exasperated, huff. At least he was warm. And honestly a much nicer seat than the damp ground.

“Uhm—” Ace choked. Cleared his throat. Tried again. Choked harder. “Who—Who’s this?”

“Oh,” you hummed, pensive. “Actually. That’s a very good question. I don’t really know.”

The Lion Man practically groaned into your neck. Ace looked like he wanted to put your head through a wall.

“This entire time,” the Lion hissed. You could feel the imprint of his canines bumping up against your skin as he grit his teeth. “You didn’t even know who I was?”

“No?” you frowned, confused. And then, rightfully indignant, “It’s not like you ever introduced yourself!”

He pulled himself back with a sigh that sounded like it was the only thing standing in between a gruesome murder and whatever fragile sanity he’d managed to wrangle together. He straightened—posture going rigid and regal. The claws at your waist flexed into the breezy fabric of your shirt and his tail tightened along your arm.

“I am Leona Kingscholar,” he declared, proud. “Second Son of the Sunset Savannas. Heir to the King's Roar.”

Ace started choking all over again, and let out what sounded vaguely like a strangled ‘holy fucking shit.’ You waited a moment, shifting through the catalogue of names and places in your head before drawing a complete blank. So you simply nodded as best as you could while squashed up so close against him and offered your own name politely in return.

Ace gawked at you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I was just being polite!”

“This is—He’s—!” your redheaded friend just barely managed to splutter out past his obvious terror. “Leona Kingscholar is a Warlord. He’s an ancient terror—He’s—He’s a General, and a monster, and the fucking Changeling Prince whose family rules over this entire goddamn continent, you absolute fucking halfwit!”

Your brain seemed to evacuate the premises all at once, and you were left gaping like a fish out of water. Mouth opening and closing as if of its own devices. Just. Not a thought passing behind those wide, horrified, eyes of yours. Eventually you managed to tilt your gaze up and up until the back of your head thunked against your guest’s shoulder. You stared at him in outright consternation and he simply arched a handsome brow, entirely unimpressed by your apparently lackluster deductive reasoning.

“…is that all true?” you asked haltingly. He rolled his eyes at you.

“More or less.”

“… and you’ve been sleeping in my chicken coop.”

Leona snorted. “I have.”

You turned back to Ace, a creeping sort of dread slithering through your gut and clawing up your spine.

“Oh no,” you said. With feeling.

“Oh fucking no indeed,” he wailed, and dropped his head into his hands.

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Leona x Reader #Leona x Yuu #Skin-Changer Leona #Ace Trappola #Monster Mayhem Leona Part 2

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1926 Spanish Colonial in Los Angeles, California looks like a fairy tale house. 3bds, 4ba, $2.2M. Love everything but the taxidermy.

Isn't this amazing? The red ceiling is a stunner. Love the fireplace and shelving, too.

It has a large dining room with fairy tale cottage windows.

The kitchen is large, and look at the cute Dutch door. Love the floor.

The primary bedroom is so cozy. It doesn't look big enough to fit a piano, but it's deceiving.

You don't see many red bathrooms. Very nice. I can't decide if I like the uneven tile look.

Cute alcove is a great place to read, but the small desk looks good in here.

Absolutely love the library. It reminds me of a treehouse.

Bedroom #2 is a child's room. It's pretty big, b/c it accommodates some large furniture pieces.

This bath is cool- burgundy subway tiles.

Bedroom #3 with large sliders to the garden, is being used for an exercise space.

The house has several Juliet balconies and a turret tower.

This is a lovely roof top deck.

The garden is so pretty.

Interesting waterfall and pond.

Not much of a driveway, but there's a double garage. The property is very angular and small, 5,299 sq ft lot, but it's in the expensive Hollywood Hills.

#fairy tale houses #spanish colonial homes #houses #house tours #home tour

[hydrangeachainsaw]

꧁Cottagecore & Cozy Set꧂

BGC

Cottagecore: 19 items | Cozy: 15 items

Bed is functional and animated!

2k Texture Maps

Meshes and textures by me, some patterns for textures found on pinterest/google.

Mostly low/medium polycount, highest poly is the Ruffle Bed (20k)

Cozy Set 💤☁️ TS3  |  TS4

 Cottagecore Set🌿🍒  PUBLIC DOWNLOAD TS3  |  TS4

 🌸 Instagram | Pinterest | Sketchfab  🌸

⇟ more info under the cut! ⇟  

EARLY ACCESS: 

Comissioned Set!

BGC

19 Items

Mostly 2k Texture Maps

Meshes and textures by me, some patterns for textures found on pinterest/google

you can find all items in this set typing HCCottage or HC22May in the searchbar

some of these comissions are from 2020 but most are recent

info~

Porcelain deer

1 swatch

7k polycount

Heart Shaped Cutting board

6 swatches

1k poly

Heart Shaped Kitchen Spoon

17 swatches

2k poly

Plant in mug

1 swatch

11k poly

Strawberry Jar

4 swatches

4k poly

Strawberry mug

4 swatches

4k poly

Cherry Shelf

1 swatch

6k poly

Cookie Cutters

10 different shapes

2 swatches each

Around 1 to 5k poly

Pastry Bag

3 swatches

3k poly

EA:

BGC

Bed is functional and animated!

15 Items

2k Texture Maps

Meshes and textures by me, some patterns for textures found on pinterest/google

you can find all items in this set typing HCCozy or HC22Jun in the searchbar

Bed is around 100mb, but u can delete swatches to reduce the size!

info~

Rugs

20 swatches

Blanket v1

5k poly

50 swatches

Blanket v2

13k poly

51 swatches

Blanket v2 Ruffle lace

13k poly

1 swatch

Blanket v3

7kpoly

50 swatches

Cozy Cottage Art

54 swatches

Cozy Ruffle Bed

20k poly

55 swatches

Body pillow

11k poly

10 swatches

Pillows

14k poly

11 swatches

Cozy Ruffle Bed v2 (for the separate blankets)

10k poly

50 swatches

Heart pillow

7k poly

9 swatches

messy pillow

4k poly

9 swatches

Messy pillow v2

5k poly

10 swatches

Round pillows

9k poly

10 swatches

Tassel Pouf Chair

10k poly

27 swatches

#s4cc #ts4cc #s3cc #sims4cc #ts4 #ts3cc #sims3cc #ts3 #cc

[lupinmoonlight]

First Morning Together

Masterlist AO3

Summary - An interlude to Domestic Bliss. After graduating from Hogwarts, you and Remus move into a cozy little cottage in Hogsmeade. Your first morning together results in steamy spoon fucking (879 words).

Warnings - age gap, spooning, smut, impregnation kink if you squint, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - I don't know what this is and I kinda hate it. I was longing for something domestic but also smut without plot so there it is. I know I have several requests in my inbox but I have had some serious writer's block. I will get to them as soon as I can! I am also planning out a multi-chapters fic with possibly my first ever OC. Let me know if that is something of interest :)

You still had to remind Remus that you were not his student anymore, that it was ok to touch you, to hold your hand, to have you. You were his now, after all. You had been his for a long time already, only now you didn't have to hide it from the world. 

Yet, he was still so careful around you. There was still this lingering guilt behind every touch, as if he was afraid to corrupt you. The truth was that you were corrupted ever since you laid your eyes on him for the first time 3 years ago. And that corruption had led you to this cozy little cottage nestled on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, sleeping next to the love of your life for the first time. 

That love of your life had been awake for a while already, savouring the intimacy of the moment, of having you all curled up against him, fitting so perfectly into the curve of his waist as if you were made for him alone. 

Your favourite thing was to feign innocence with him, to pretend you were not aware of the effect you had on him. But you knew exactly what you were doing and now, in your first morning together, you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your backside as he was spooning you yet you pretended to be asleep, subtly grinding your butt against him. 

He groaned and tried to put some distance between the two of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but your body instinctively sought out the contact, pressing yourself back against him.

"Y/N...I'm sorry. I should-" he started stuttering. 

"Don't apologize, Professor," you said, turning your head slightly to give him a mischievous smile. 

His body betrayed him at the sound of his title on your lips, his length twitching with arousal against you. One of his hands found its way down to your hip, pulling you more firmly against him, causing you to gasp. You were not used to this type of assertiveness with him; he was always so careful, so gentle. But now, in the intimate confines of your shared cottage, his resolve was crumbling and he was hungry, starved. 

In a swift motion, he slid your panties down just enough so that the cool air of the morning kissed over you bare bottom, making you shiver. His erection was painfully hard now. He freed himself from his boxers and slid between your cheeks as his lips found your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your skin. 

"Fuck..." he let out as he started grinding himself against you in a torturous pace. 

"Remus...Please," you whimpered, arching your back in a desperate plea for him to be inside you. 

You could feel his lips form into a smirk against your skin; he loved having you all needy and begging. Except now there was no time for teasing. He wanted you, needed you. He aligned his length with your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, he pushed inside of you, his arms keeping you firmly against him. 

The tightness of your body threatened to undo him right then and there and he stilled for a moment in a futile attempt to control himself. 

"God...you feel good," he whispered as he found his rhythm, thrusting slowly but steadily into your welcoming heat. Your soft moans and whimpers did nothing to help him stay in control, his breathing becoming ragged. 

He increased the force of his pace as his hand travelled down to your core, the tip of his finger teasing over your sensitive bud. You arched your back, pushing your hips forward in a silent plea for more contact and you moaned and he gave into what you wanted, that sweet friction bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It only took a few strokes for your climax to hit you, your entire body tensing up as you gave in to the pleasure. Remus growled as he felt you clench around him, and any ounce of restraint he had was gone. He gripped your waist, anchoring himself to you as his hips drove into you relentlessly. 

"I'm close," he panted. 

"Please...fill me up. I want to feel you inside me," you begged. 

His thrusts became unsteady as he approached his climax, his grip on you almost painful. "Ah...fuck. You're going to make me come," he practically growled.

With one final powerful thrust, he felt the familiar explosion of pleasure erupting from him as he came inside your tight hold. His hips continued to grind against you as he pumped you with his seed before finally coming to a still. 

You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his length still pulsing as he was nestled deep within you. His hand came to rest on your belly as he imagined vividly how beautiful you would look with his child growing inside you. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and whispered "I love you" against your skin, pulling you closer to him, your bodies still intimately connected. 

"This is how I want every morning to be from now on," you said with a hint of a smile in your voice. 

"You know I can never refuse anything to the love of my life." 

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #professor lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #smut #hp fic

[anto-pops]

Mallowsweet Muses - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: This wasn’t anything new for you– on the contrary, you’d sucked Sebastian off enough times to know how he liked it, what made him crumble in your hands and sing praises of your name. But Mallowsweet hadn’t been a factor then, and you hesitated for a moment as you considered whether or not you were taking advantage of him like this. You looked up at him once more, the question hanging silently in the air, and with the enthusiasm of a puppy Sebastian nodded hungrily.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian getting high and fooling around.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit content, recreational drug use

Full fic can be found here on Ao3! PART 2 with Ominis now included! PART 3 can also be found here.

Sebastian was one of those rare, pretty smokers. The kind whose eyes would glisten impossibly against the reddening whites, and whose laugh was ten times more contagious. His face would get this attractive flush to it that made his freckles all the more apparent, and those full, kissable lips of his always stayed parted long after he exhaled. You didn’t even want to get into his hands– but you actually did. The long, slender fingers always looked elegant– but when his wand, or the Mallowsweet pipe, or even a part of your body was pinched between them, they looked ten times more seductive. 

There was probably something wrong with you for thinking as much, but you hadn’t found a real reason to care thus far. 

You watched as Sebastian brought the used corn-cob pipe up to his lips and lit the greenery there with the tip of his wand. The sizzle sounded throughout the sparsely decorated cottage, the distinct smell of burnt Mallowsweet evident in the air. You’d been here for quite some time already– Ominis had long since passed out on the sofa in front of the fireplace, leaving you and Sebastian to smoke your way through the generous drawstring sac of Mallowsweet you’d acquired from Poppy. 

Tensions seemed to be running high all throughout the school, what with your O.W.L.’s just around the corner. Your motley trio (or realistically you and Ominis) had been holed up in the library nearly every day after classes for the last three weeks, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t beginning to make you go stir crazy. 

To your surprise, it had been Ominis who cracked first, his white knuckled grip on his dictation quill that evening rather telling. He’d slammed his book shut loudly, the glow from the tip of his wand dimming slightly before he declared to you and Sebastian that he needed a ‘break’. 

You could only roll your eyes when Sebastian had shot up from his seat and hastily charmed away his own books and quills, just as eager for a change of pace. An hour later you had found yourselves tucked away in the sanctity of the Room of Requirement, seeing as it offered more secluded options compared to the Undercroft. Namely the vivariums it housed, one of which contained a cozy cottage within. That was where you’d ended up, though before long Ominis had curled up like a cat, satisfied to nap under the effects of his own high and leave you and Sebastian to smoke to your heart's content. 

“This is nice,” drawled Sebastian, pulling you from your thoughts as he extended the pipe towards you. “Praise Merlin, the man did us a favor getting you to collect all this Mallowsweet.” 

You laughed as you tipped the pipe over, emptying its spent contents in a bin before procuring the small drawstring bag you kept the leaves in. You stuffed a few more in the top and brought your wand up to light the contents as Sebastian had, holding the smoke in for a moment before exhaling. The feeling was euphoric– a warmth blossomed in your chest and spread throughout your body, pulling a contented sigh from your lips. 

“If you want to thank anyone, thank Poppy. She’s the only one who deigned to clue me in after she watched me hurl a handful of leaves on a Merlin trial. You should have heard her protests— you’d have thought I kicked a Puffskein.” 

Sebastian laughed at that, the sound deep and rich, and he turned his head over in his palm to gaze at you. The half-hooded look he bore made your stomach flip, and you instantly recognized the glint in his eyes. While the idea was tempting, Ominis’ soft snores from a few feet away had you shoving down your baser desires and instead, passing the pipe to Sebastian. 

He plucked it from your fingers soundlessly, his eyes jumping between yours and your lips before he sat back in his seat. The unspoken tension had goosebumps breaking out over your skin, but you willed your foggy brain to remain calm and collected. If not for your own sake, then for Ominis’. 

“If I’m thanking anyone for the Mallowsweet, it’ll be Madame Beatrice. I don’t doubt for a second that our illustrious Hufflepuff discovered the secret on one of her excursions to Dogweed and Deathcap. She’s just the type to draw that kind of information out of a witless old woman.” 

A laugh bubbled past your lips, and you grinned shamelessly at Sebastian. “Mr. Sallow, are you implying that Madame Beatrice smokes?”

His eyes focused on the back of the sofa as he lifted his wand to the pipe. “Are you counter-implying that it’s normal for her to have full conversations with her plants in front of customers?” 

Your grin practically split your face as you murmured, “Touche,” and Sebastian flashed you a pleased smirk before lighting the bowl again. 

You really couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. Everything about him captivated your attention; from the lengthier strands of brown hair that tickled his shoulders to the attractive curve of his jaw. With his long, powerful legs stretched in front of him, he was the picture of ease as he exhaled another plume of smoke. He tipped his head back, letting the rush of Mallowsweet cloud his mind, and his hair fell seductively over his eyes. The sight nearly brought you to your knees then and there, but you once again found yourself glancing over at the back of the sofa where you knew Ominis lay sleeping. 

He was blind, not deaf. You had to ask yourself if you were seriously considering doing something so reckless. It wasn’t that Ominis didn’t know about your relationship with Sebastian, it was just that you weren’t big on flaunting it, so to speak. Whereas Sebastian was the type to shout from the rooftops that the two of you were together, you were far more reserved. Proud to be with him all the same, but you were much more discreet with your public displays of affection.

But the deliciously inviting way his legs were spread was far too enticing an opportunity to pass up, you decided. His head was still kicked back, those long dark lashes fanning out across his cheeks, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told you he was as relaxed as he could be. 

Silently you rose from your seat across from him, careful not to jostle the table, and slipped around to the other side so you were standing in front of Sebastian. His eyes were still closed, giving you the element of surprise as you sank down to your knees before him and placed your hands gingerly on his thighs. 

He tensed at the same time his eyes flew open, and there would be no missing the deep flush that crept beneath the collar of his shirt when his stare landed on you. 

“What are you doing?” His words were laced with certain interest, blunt nails digging into the arm rests of his chair. 

You gave him a coy smirk, dragging your palms down the thick material of his trousers before curling your fingers around the backs of his knees. “Nothing you won’t like,” you promised, and your eyes flicked to the tenting fabric between Sebastian’s legs. 

This wasn’t anything new for you– on the contrary, you’d sucked Sebastian off enough times to know how he liked it, what made him crumble in your hands and sing praises of your name. But Mallowsweet hadn’t been a factor then, and you hesitated for a moment as you considered whether or not you were taking advantage of him like this. You looked up at him once more, the question hanging silently in the air, and with the enthusiasm of a puppy Sebastian nodded hungrily. 

Your nimble fingers deftly undid his belt buckle, the metal clink echoing throughout the cottage and igniting that fire deep in your gut before you tugged the clothing down to his knees. He met you halfway, lifting his hips to aid in the removal of the offensive attire, and his hands were instantly flying to his tie to loosen the constricting material. 

The extent of Sebastian’s arousal was made all the more apparent without his pants in the way. His dark briefs revealed the wet spot where you knew the head of his cock was, and when your hand came up to palm him through his undergarments, his chest lurched with the sudden breath he took. Grinning in earnest, you let your nails scrape against the taut skin of his stomach as you removed his briefs. They met with his trousers that pooled against his knees, and he hurriedly shoved them the rest of the way down before kicking them to the side, allowing you more room to siddle comfortably between his legs. 

Sebastian’s cock was already painfully hard, the impressive length arching proudly against his stomach as pre-cum gathered at the head. He’d been sporting a half-chub for the better part of a half hour, not that he had chosen to say anything about it. But you were as radiant under the effects of Mallowsweet as you were without it, and he’d been watching you hungrily this entire time, too. 

When your hand slithered up his thigh to grip his solid shaft, the groan Sebastian let out was nothing short of filthy. His head tipped back, knocking against the wood of his chair as you gave him a testing pump once, twice, then dragged your thumb over the pearling liquid at the head. 

“F-Fuck, that feels incredible–” Sebastian moaned as you twisted your fist over the tip, his hips jerking up to chase the dizzying squeeze you gave him before you lowered your hand again. “Merlin–” 

You pressed wet kisses against the darker freckles you found scattered along his length, basking in the power you held over him even though it was you on your knees. “Careful, you’ll wake Ominis,” you murmured with a knowing smile before licking your lips and taking him into your mouth. 

Your warning registered halfway through Sebastian groaning loud. He slapped his hand over his mouth, a choking sound resonating from somewhere deep in his chest as he willed himself to quiet down, lest his best friend were to wake up and catch you in the act. 

A very horny, very shameless part of him kind of wanted that. 

That thought went right out the window, however, as you sank deeper on his cock, your lips pressing and sucking along the thick veins in a way that made his head spin. With gentle, attentive hands, you coaxed Sebastian into spreading his legs further before running your tongue over the slit at the head. He watched you with dark, hazy eyes, his tired expression intense even through the dark eyelashes, but you were more than used to having Sebastian’s eyes on you. One might even say you thrived on it. 

Eager to please him, you focused your full attention on fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could. You didn’t bother to hide the sloppy, wet sounds as you felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, nose nestled in the sparse hair there, and you willed away the urge to gag as you swallowed around him. 

“Fuck– don’t– oh, damn,” his keening voice was just louder than a whisper, and his eyes darted over to the sofa again, nervously checking for any signs of Ominis waking. The concern vanished with the feeling of your thumbs tracing over the delicious dip in his waistline, your touch like a brand against his trembling skin. 

You fell into a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on his cock, greedily drinking in the sight of him falling apart as he struggled to control his pleas for more. All the while your eyes stayed glued to his, timing the broad strokes of your tongue with the furrow of his brows, and when your free hand came up to gently cradle his balls, the whine he let slip had heat pooling in your core instantly. 

The distinct sound of shuffling near the fireplace had you pausing your ministrations, replacing your mouth with your hand to lazily stroke Sebastian as you glanced over your shoulder. Ominis had to still be sound asleep, seeing as his neat head of hair didn’t appear over the back of the sofa. When you turned back to Sebastian, he looked seconds away from combusting. 

His hands fisted in his hair, the act one of sheer disbelief. His mind was racing with a million different thoughts, the most prudent of which involved hauling you off the floor and throwing you on the bed in the corner. But the knowledge that Ominis was mere feet away— the slightest noise a threat to the sanctity of your activities— threatened to send Sebastian clean over the edge.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he slurred down at you. 

You took it as a challenge. 

With a positively wicked smile, you stroked Sebastian as you stuck your tongue out, whacking the wet muscle with his cock in such an obscene manner, Sebastian could fucking hear the blood pounding in his ears. His hands drifted from his own mused hair to yours, the stinging grip familiar and tantalizing, before pulling your mouth back down on his twitching shaft. 

The intrusion was sudden but not unwelcome, your muffled cry of shock merely an added bonus for Sebastian as the feeling reverberated around his cock. 

“Shit–,” he hissed. Your fingers splayed over his thighs as his hips thrust up into your warm, wet mouth, the thrill of being used for his pleasure making you clench your knees together for some reprieve. 

“F-fuck, you’re incredible,” he grit his praises through clenched teeth, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The only sound in the room was that of Sebastian’s soft grunts and your own muffled, spit-slick moans. “Fuck, fuck, damn–”

Despite his manhandling, you did your best to flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock while you sucked, and Merlin, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold in your already disheveled hair and scoot down his chair some. 

Sebastian’s hips sputtered, and you felt his legs tremble on either side of you as he held your head down on his cock to shoot thick, hot ropes of his cum down your throat. You were ready for him, your fingers digging into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as you drank everything down, swallowing around him again to effectively milk every drop while his hushed whimpers and sharp gasps spurred you on. 

The stinging grip in your hair lessened some, allowing you the freedom to crane your neck up at Sebastian with his cock still in your mouth. His eyes were foggy, that blissfully fucked out look on his face one that you wished you could frame. The green tie he wore was haphazardly hanging around his neck, and his shirt had been hitched up to his chest at some point when you weren’t looking, revealing the deliciously toned expanse of his fit stomach. 

It really wasn’t fair– you wondered how it was possible to look so effortlessly attractive.

Those dark eyes finally cracked open to peer down at you, and there was no denying the sliver of pure want that coursed through your veins as he visibly processed how you looked. Your own hair was a mess atop your head, clenched in his fist and tumbling over your shoulders as his fingers splayed through the locs to scrape deliciously against your scalp. Your swollen lips were shiny against the glow of the fireplace, still wrapped around the head of his cock as your tongue lazily laved over the slit, and Merlin– it bordered on a torturous kind of overstimulation. 

He followed the bob of your throat as you gave him one last, hard suck, before you were pulling off of him with an audible lick of your lips. 

You were an evil fucking minx, far as he was concerned. 

“Think you can stay quiet if I bend you over the table?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the offer, the slick between your legs damn near unbearable as you breathed out a needy “Yes,” and he was suddenly hoisting you off the floor by your forearm. He spun you both around in a quick, fluid motion, and his hand fell between your shoulder blades to push you down so your chest was flush with the table, your ass raised invitingly before him. 

“I’m serious,” his gruff voice in your ear sent shivers down your spine, and you felt his hands trail from your back to your hips to pull you against his quickly recovering erection. “You’ve always been a screamer. Keep quiet, or Ominis will think you’re some kind of deranged exhibitionist.” 

Your eyes fixed on the back of the sofa, the mental image of Ominis stirring from his sleep to the sound of your moans and Sebastian’s hips slapping against your ass enough to make you sigh with pleasure. “What do you think he would think of you?” You narrowed your eyes in anticipation, hoping he would rise to the bait.

Sebastian growled, leaning over you so you were pinned firm between the table and his hard torso as he grabbed your hair and tugged your head back. It exposed the flushed length of your neck to him, and he assaulted your pulse with his teeth, nipping and sucking the skin there hard enough to leave a telltale bruise.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against the wet skin, “You’re an insufferable smart-ass sometimes, you know that?” 

Your breathy laugh was your only reply. Then he was propping himself up above you, his strong arms flexing under his weight as he took himself in his hand and pressed the head against your impossibly wet cunt. 

“Fucking hell, you love this don’t you? The threat of being caught? You’re drenched just from sucking me off next to him.” Punctuating his statement with a smooth roll of his hips, his thick tip breached your walls, and you had to bite your lip against the moan that threatened to spill out. 

Sebastian heard your sharp intake of breath, smirking against the curve of your shoulder as he seated his cock fully inside of you. He spent far too long just grinding against your ass, the slow, sensual drag of his cock in your deeper areas driving you mad with lust. It was far more intimate than the pounding you’d half expected, but Merlin– it was just as perfect. With your body still under the effects of Mallowsweet, the curve of Sebastian’s cock felt exhilarating brushing against your sweet spot, and when he finally pulled his hips back to slowly plunge back in, your eyes rolled shut as you gave in to the ecstasy. 

Sebastian really was doing his best to keep the noise to a muffled minimum. His entire body shook with the controlled effort he exerted to keep his tempo slow, aiming to have you feel as much of him as possible. He watched your profile as you stifled those noises he ordinarily chased out of you with his cock, your brows pinching together as you struggled to maintain your composure around his dizzyingly steady thrusts. 

Your hands splayed against the surface of the table, nails searching to find purchase as you wriggled your hips back in a silent plea. Sebastian interlaced his fingers around the back of your hand and lifted your arm so you were stretched further up the table. You heard something tip over, maybe a potion vial, but all you could focus on was how wonderful Sebastian felt pressed against you this way. 

He let his other hand snake its way up to cover your mouth– you hadn’t realized you were getting loud– and he picked up his pace just enough so that you finally got the friction you were desperately seeking. The weight of his chest on your back kept the table from rocking, but the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cottage, incriminating you both. 

Sebastian’s fingers dug into the skin of your cheeks as he muffled your moans, releasing the hand against the table to reach between your legs and press his fingers against your throbbing clit. 

Your back arched into Sebastian’s chest, a sharp cry slipping through his clenched fingers as your legs began to shake under you. Your release was close– so damn close, and all you wanted to do was sing praises of his name and loudly knock your assignments off the table so he could properly ram into you without a care. But being held like this, restrained and quieted and your mind blissfully high– it was just as much of a rush, if not a greater one.

With one particularly forceful thrust, you were coming around Sebastian with an airy cry, your breath warming the fingers still splayed across your mouth. Your legs shook with the intensity of your orgasm as Sebastian continued to pump into you, the feeling of your clenching walls making him see stars. He relished in your tight heat for a few moments before his hips faltered, and then he was grinding his balls against your ass as he came deep inside. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while; Sebastian propped on his elbows over you, chest heaving as he sucked down breaths and returned to the present moment. You were slack beneath him, your own breathing muffled by the hand Sebastian still had clamped over your mouth. He removed it then, and the sigh that slipped through your lips was like music to his ears. 

He loved the sex-addled rasp to your voice. Especially knowing he was the reason for it. 

Sebastian let his hands roam your pliant body, mapping every dip and every curve he came across, all smell of sex and Mallowsweet pungent in the air. The tips of his nails gently ghosted up your ribs, eliciting a shiver from you, and he kept going until he reached your hand and clasped it in his own. You felt exceptionally sweaty around your hands, and he glanced up to see a black puddle growing beneath your intertwined palms. 

“Oh fuck,” he said as he pushed himself off of you, ignoring your huff of displeasure. “Ominis is going to kill us.” 

At that, you glanced over your shoulder to see Sebastian staring at something on the table. You followed his gaze and saw what it was he was referring to. 

“Shit.” You were so dead. 

In the throes of passion, you and Sebastian had seemingly knocked over one of your containers of ink, the murky liquid spilling and covering the loose parchment that still littered the table. Some of your papers had been colored black at the corners, but Ominis’ notes were soiled. Nothing was legible anymore, and your panicked thoughts had you wondering if it was only one day's worth of studying material or, Merlin forbid, an entire week’s worth. 

Sebastian’s eyes were wider than saucers when you looked back at him, and the sheepish smile he gave you looked more like a grimace. 

“We can… rewrite them for him?” Sebastian’s pointed look conveyed you just how helpful he thought that sounded. “Well what do you suggest? Any bright ideas bouncing around in there or has the Mallowsweet rendered you speechless?” 

His eyes made a full trip around their sockets, failing to hide the roguish grin that was quickly overtaking his expression. “I wouldn’t say it's the Mallowsweet making me speechless…” 

That was how Sebastian ended up with a black handprint stained through his shirt. He’d grumbled about it for the better part of twenty minutes before falling back into easy banter with you, the two of you hurrying to copy as many of your notes as you could for Ominis. It was casual– normal– and you basked in the simplicity of it all. 

On the sofa, Ominis’ unseeing eyes were still trained on the ceiling, his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest. He didn’t know if the flush on his cheeks was from his proximity to the fireplace or from what he had overheard, but it didn’t change the fact that the blood had yet to return to where it belonged. His trousers were painfully tight against his achingly hard member, but he didn’t dare lift his arm to readjust himself. No way. 

This was a situation he would be far better suited to handling once he was alone in the privacy of his dorm. Until then, feigning sleep would have to suffice.

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x female!reader #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #my writing #sebastian sallow x mc

[clavissionary-position]

Ikepri Rooms Ranked By How Expensive They'd Be As Hotel/Airbnb Suites

1. SILVIO

Listed in the dictionary as the extreme antonym of a cheap room. The type that requires reserving years before in advance because nowhere on earth will you get a better view of dolphins porking. And forget about sheets being washed daily, they get completely replaced three times a day. You feel like a billion dollars after one night's stay, which is great because you've surely spent half that amount on said stay.

2. JIN

The reason this ranking exists. Luxury walls, flooring, bedding. Other hotel suites wish they could be Jin's room. Catching your reflection on any of the surfaces automatically increases libido. The sheets are infused with heady compounds commonly found in massage oils. You can see the mini-bar no matter where you're standing in the room. The fucking complimentary lollipops.

3. YVES

The crown canopy alone is so iconic that it demands a premium, but who wouldn't want to treat themselves to a stay in such a chic and manicured suite? Its amenities rival any high-end spa. There's amenities for actual cats. You go in clean and come out shiny.

4. CHEVALIER

You're paying for the books and you're paying for the balcony. If you face the bookshelves it smells like roses. If you face the roses, it smells like books. It's obvious Chevalier did not put this room on the market, nor did he tamper with it to such inutile effect.

5. KEITH

The premiere suite for introverts who simp for succulents. The bright and refreshing color palette is sure to uplift your spirits, and if that doesn't do the trick, who doesn't like fiddling with an actual telescope and accidentally breaking it? The ceilings are higher than you'd find in most suites, making it perfect for taller guests. There's always a fresh galette waiting for you every day.

6. NOKTO

A room that enticingly strays into the realm of maximalism. Staying in this suite with all its souvenirs and foreign effects lets you feel like a globe-trotter while you're getting ravished into the luxurious mattress. No single occupants allowed.

7. LEON

You're paying for the books and you're paying for the sheets. Mostly the sheets because some of the books are a little dusty. Room Service specializes in meat dishes. The windows grant one of the most breathtaking sunsets you'll see anywhere.

8. LICHT (palace room)

Despite the cool palette, it evokes calm and happy feelings. The wolf motif means lots of fur accessories. Just, uh, ignore the collar in the drawer. Even if you're into it. That's not for you. Yeah, this is probably another room that wasn't listed by its owner.

9. RIO

The view, the view, the view. For some reason Rio comes with the suite. 24/7 butler. Partway through your stay and after receiving world-world-class service, your understand why the convenience fee was so much higher than what you paid for the actual room. It's also obvious that this experience is worth far more than what it was listed for.

10. LUKE (cottage room)

A cozy stop on any b&b tour. The owner asks you do not disturb the teddy bears on display. If you find that the teddy bears disturb you, you are free to sleep facing the walls while enjoying the everpresent fragrance of honey.

11. SARIEL

The perfect room to spend an entire day in while reading or cuddling or being spooky and goth. There's spare glasses everywhere. You can see how some of the seemingly-ordinary fixtures could easily be turned into props for more adult-oriented activities. There's also ale flasks everywhere. ...Who put this room on the market? (whip-cracking sounds)

12. LUKE (palace room)

It definitely feels like you're staying in someone's personal bedroom and not an officially sanctioned suite. If you stayed in the cottage room before this, you might even think one of the teddy bears followed you. Well, that's just what they do.

Unlisted properties ranked:

1. CLAVIS (treasure and contraband room)

A national secret too dangerous to list. Expensive based purely on the illicit contents and sheer volume of shovels, which apparently add up.

2. LICHT (cottage room)

A national secret too secret to list. Also if "Simple and Clean" was a physical room. No one should know it exists, even though everyone probably knows it exists. If it were on the market, it'd be impossible to book. It's so picturesque it makes you want to cry. Most of the hypothetical extra charges on the hypothetical bill go toward maintaining the field of flowers surrounding the property.

3. CLAVIS (palace room)

A national secret too dangerous to list, but there have been rumors that you can stay for free if you manage to get past all the locks and traps and tell the owner how much you love him.

4. GILBERT

A national secret too dangerous to list, and there have been rumors that it undergoes regular renovations ever since the owner got engaged. It's the kind of room that makes you think "yeah, that'd probably be expensive as hell to stay in," but it seems the owner doesn't care for pricing things out of the reach of the masses, so that's why it's ranked so far down. If the room were available.

a/n: Thank you for reading. I took some inspiration from the modern headcanons @/leonscape has posted in the past. Also the bit about where Licht keeps his collar I believe is something mentioned in a collection event story, which I read the translation by @/hotaru987 for.

#ikepri spoilers #ikemen prince #jin grandet #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #luke randolph #rio ortiz #sariel noir #silvio ricci #keith howell #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri ranked

[redbleedingrose]

Girl Dad!Rhysand x Reader Headcanons Pt 2

Part 1

A/N: So it turns out you all enjoyed the first post and I kept coming up with more ideas so here we go!

Girl dad Rhys back at it again stealing all our hearts smh <333333

I feel like Rhys is really into family vacations! He loves taking time to just relax with his mate and his little shining star, often taking you and the babe up to the private cabin to just get away from the stress of being high lord and high lady. He really believes that the key to having a happy and healthy relationship with both you and your daughter is being “normal” and truly just being himself around the people he cares most for in the entire world.

He is definitely the kind of mate to have a secluded beach house, a quaint cabin in the Illyrian mountains, a cozy cottage in the forests that he personally designed. Ofc there is a huge master bedroom with an on-suite sitting area with a gigantic balcony that has the best views in the entire home. He also designs the perfect room for your babe, even including additional rooms for any future children you may have (which he is quite desperate for). There is a play room with lots of sensory development toys, a library that holds collections of all your and your daughters favorite books from different authors, there is definitely a pool (for late night skinny dipping), and a music room that has the piano and guitars so your daughter can learn how to play.

He adores playing chess with his shining star. She always wins against her 500 year old father despite being only 3. He loves watching her little pigtails bounce as she dances and jumps with glee, teasing her mama: “I won mama, you never win against papa, right papa?” Her chubby cheeks flushing with excitement as she stares up at you with innocent widened eyes. “That’s right my shining star, papa always wins,” his violet eyes glinting with starlight as he sends you a cheeky wink that leaves you feeling flushed all over

The asshole never lets you win, in fact, he always has a stupid sexy smug smirk on his face every time you play against him.

At some point during your relationship, you forced Azriel to teach you all of Rhys’ dirty tricks so you can finally win against him.

It did not work.

Man’s already had you figured out. Watching you with one eyebrow raised and a grin tugging at his lips every time you played a move where you thought you had the upper hand, only for him to end up winning.

It’s okay though… he ate you out for hours as a reward for trying so hard

ANYWAY

I feel like your daughter and Rhys are connected on a deeper level. Like I said, this male adores her. Treats her like a princess. Coddles her to the extreme while making sure she understands her privilege. Regardless… they just understand each other more than you could ever describe. It is that unconditional deep love that he has for her that makes their bond so special.

Any time she has a nightmare? Rhys is already awake and jogging towards her room to bring her back to your bed and let her sleep between the both of you or on his chest.

When she was just a babe, before she could talk, you could swear that with the way Rhys and her stared at each other, they were communicating and could understand each other. They still do that now. It is like they have their own language, inside jokes that end with high pitched giggles and Rhys tickling her and pulling her close to smooch her ruddy cheeks.

There was a phase your daughter had where she would try to sneak into your bed to sleep with you and Rhys. You would wake up every single time she tried, silently watching with a soft smile and bleary eyes as Rhys shush’s her as she stares up at him with her violet puppy dog eyes, “C’mere little love, shh don’t wake mama, s’okay, you can sleep with us tonight,” already leaning down to pick her up under her outstretched arms to settle her between you both. When she crawls in behind you and tries to throw her tiny arm around your waist, you will turn around with a gentle groan and pull her into your chest, tucking her head under your chin and planting a soft kiss to her fluffy hair so she can snuggle into you completely.

Rhysand still struggles to sleep some nights. Some nights, he wakes up gasping for air and clutching his chest, staring at you desperately while you rub his back and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. On these nights though, Rhys is completely content and at ease. When you and his babe are with him, you both are entirely safe. The thing is… he feels entirely safe too. He leans in for a quick peck before scooting forward to cuddle you both into him, almost immediately sliding back into a deep sleep with you both in his arms.

This male is also the most extravagant and outlandish fae you have ever met. This male insists on matching EVERYWHERE. Before your daughter was born, he would have clothes that were specially made for you both so that you could match wherever you went. Now??? This male has you AND your daughter matching with him.

Matching pajama sets??? A MUST

Regular every day wear??? Better be matching

training clothes???

“We are on the same team darling, we have to match,” he pleads as you stare at him exasperated as hell. He will even rope your daughter in, I cannot with him frl… “Isn’t that right my little star? You want mama to match with me and you right?”

And how are you supposed to resist your adorable daughter clapping her tiny hands and clutching at your dress, rocking back and forth on her heels with her violet eyes looking up at you, “Yes mama! Please match with us!” with the largest toothy smile, reminding you how she is growing up too fast

Matching starfall outfits?? Absolutely, without a doubt, its not a want, its a NEED

Male gets weak in the knees when he realizes that you and your babe are wearing your hair in the same hairstyle. He bites at your exposed neck and whisper begs for another babe.

Can we just discuss how adorable your babe is? Her violet eyes and ruddy cheeks that are so chubby every time she smiles with wild hair that can barely be controlled? Her round belly and tiny hands that barely fist around 3 of Rhys’ fingers and her feet that stumble and scamper through the marbled floors with delighted screams as Azriel and Cassian play tag with her. She is your little angel.

All that to say, Rhysand absolutely blows raspberries onto her tummy that results in squeals and laughter that make the stars shine brighter. He also loves to pretend to eat and chew on her toes and feet. They are his favorite “snack” as he likes to tell your babe.

Whenever she falls or hurts herself, she immediately comes running to you with fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks and her arms sticking out so her mama can cuddle and kiss away her pain. Obviously a mama’s kiss is healing of all things. Rhys worries like a mother hen, fretting over her paper cut, “Should we call Madja darling?? Are you sure??? Look, she is crying!!! I think we should call Majda. She needs to clear out the clinic immediately so all of the healers can focus on her!!!” And you are just rolling your eyes and smooching away your shining stars tears and her boo boo. After she has calmed down a little, all she wants to do is cuddle with her papa, and he will immediately bring her into his arms and hold her against his chest, his fluttering heart with panic beating under her tiny head while he plants kisses all over her temple and forehead while checking her boo boo and signs of any other boo boos. He will also add his own kiss because, “papa wants to help too little love.”

You wanna know what Rhys thinks is the most adorable thing?? It is when your daughter follows you around and pretends to be high lady because she wants to be exactly like her mama. She drinks her milk from her sippy cup and pretends that it is the coffee that you drink every morning. She bosses Cassian around, forcing him to have tea parties with her to mimic gatherings with other courts, and loves when Mor dresses her up and gets her all dolled up. She loves joining you and Rhys in your shared office and acts like she is “in charge” of meetings, often falling asleep in the chair with her belly sticking out of her shirt that is riding up, milk dripping out of the sippy cup onto the wooden floors as it hangs out from her hand, soft snores while you and Rhys discuss political strategy softly in the background, kissing her head every so often to see that tiny sleepy smile as she shifts deeper into the sofa.

Rhysand has no strength against her. One messily pout from her gets her whatever she wants. Some high lord he is (affectionate in love eye roll)

She wants a horse?

“But darling, it is just a tiny project with 100 stables and 100 horses. It is entirely plausible. My little star deserves to have all the horses she wants”

She wants a pup?

“Okay little love, but we have to convince mama first so make sure you give her your puppy dog eyes okay?” (Smooches her cheeks ten times before settling her on his hip and making his way to your office)

She wants new shoes?

“My heart… she only has two closet collection of shoes… she should have at least fifteen as the future high lady!”

“Rhys she is only four.”

“That doesn’t matter darling! She deserves the best of the best, just as you do.”

She wants a new house?

“Sweetheart, we only have five houses. A high lord and lady can have a couple more. Especially if our shining star wants another.”

“Rhys, she does not need another house. She is fine.”

“But darling…” (whines like a baby until you give in and he builds another home for you)

She wants a sister?

“I think it’s time for another darling”

“You think so?”

“Yes darling, I-”

“I think so too husband.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

#rose rambles #acotar headcanons #rhysand #Rhysand headcanons #Rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #pro Rhysand #girl dad!rhysand #girl dad #Girl dad!Rhys #Girl dad!Rhysand x reader #Girl dad!rhys x reader #Rhys x reader #fluff #Rhysand fluff #Rhysand x reader fluff #this made me soft #girl dad era

[sweetsweetjellybean]

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 2 | Never Alone

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Inspired By: As the world burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Smut, Mentions of death, mild violence No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC:7607

Even though there is no sun, the light here does change. The black veil of night lifts, leaving the world awash in a pale blue half-light. The sun stays forever banished just below the horizon. Steve doesn't see it change this morning. Thick velvet drapes hung with brass rings cover every window of the cottage, keeping out the Upside-Down. His internal clock wakes him, and for the first time in a long time, it's without the heavy dread, without the emptiness. Instead, he wakes with the soft warmth of you gathered in his arms, with hope blossoming. His eyes trace the delicate slope of your peaceful features, committing them to memory. Goddam, you're pretty. He keeps still, letting the soft puffs of your breath fan over his neck, limbs still woven together as tightly as threads on a loom. Holding you like this, maybe it can be enough. These fleeting moments could be enough to get him through each day. Whatever else happens, he could have this. His lips brush your forehead as his eyes blink closed, and he lets himself drift.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the chipped cast iron kitchen sink, you’ve been brushing your teeth for at least five minutes. Sounds of pleasure escape as the minty foam bubbles inside your mouth. Taking a small sip from the canteen, you swish and spit before running your tongue over your lips. Steve chuckles next to you, taking the canteen and doing the same. 

“You really like brushing your teeth,” he teases. 

“I will not apologize for good hygiene,” you counter, “Would you like to kiss someone with bad breath?”

“Definitely not.” He sets down his toothbrush and steps closer, tongue poking the inside of his lip as he crowds you against the counter. “It’s good to know that won’t be a problem for us going forward.”

Heat creeps up your neck until it settles into your cheeks. Something has changed with him overnight, like a decision has been made. 

“You’ve got a little…” Picking up a knitted dish towel from next to the sink, you dab the toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. His hand covers yours, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. He’s got you off-kilter. You’ve never craved attention until you had a taste of his. A few looks, and you're drunk with it. 

He turns your hand over and looks down at the towel with a frown. “Why is everything in this house knitted?”

Your smile widens. “I’m not sure.” Pulling your hand away, you fold the towel and place it back on the worn butcher block countertop next to the stacks of kitchen linens and trivets, all knitted in bright-colored yarn. Copper pots and shelves stacked with dishes and crockery line the ivory-painted walls of the rustic kitchen. The well-used avocado green appliances look at least twenty years old, and cozies knitted to look like potted plants cover the kettle and toaster. 

“Do you know who lives here?” you ask, eyeing the table set for two with matching knit placemats and napkins, “I mean, on the other side.”

“No idea.” He leans against the counter, eyes roaming around the room. “Maybe there are some family photos around somewhere. Come on.” 

His hand is on the small of your back as you follow the hand-tied rug down the hall to the living room, where folded homemade afghans lie over the backs of the two armchairs and a comfortable-looking sofa arranged around the stone fireplace. The mantel is crowded with a collection of framed photos filled with happy faces.

“I like it here.” Taking a seat on the couch, you imagine curling up with a book and enjoying the warmth of a fire.

“Yeah?” He stands at the mantle, squinting at the pictures, “I do, too,” he says absently as he plucks one of the frames from its spot. "Do you want to stay for a while?"

“Is it safe?” You ask as he sits down beside you, clutching the frame, his side pressing into yours. So far, you haven’t slept in the same house twice. Steve preferred to keep on the move, feeling you were most vulnerable at night. 

“This place seems pretty solid, and it’s close to the water. I think it’s as safe as anywhere at this point.” 

“Then I’d like to stay.” 

It feels like you're building a bubble. A place for only the two of you where you could forget about the reaper that's getting closer to knocking at your door. Even if it’s all an illusion, you’re happy to pretend if he’s with you. 

“I do know who lives here.” He hands you the frame containing a photo of an older couple posed in front of the cottage, the man's arm wrapped around the woman's shoulder. Instead of looking at the camera, their faces are turned to each other. “This is Mrs. Willard,” he says, tapping the glass, “When I was kid, she used to yell at us if she saw us hanging around downtown. She scared the hell out of me. She's always dressed in black, so all the kids call her a witch. If she caught me, I thought she would eat me like in Red Riding Hood.”

“I think that was Hansel and Grettle.” Tucking your leg underneath your body, you turn into him, setting the frame on your lap. “Red Riding Hood got eaten by the wolf.”

His brows pull together. “I thought it was all the same story." 

Laughing, you shake your head in response.

"Anyway," he begins again, pretending to be irritated with your interruption, "My mom told me that her husband died, and she dresses like that because she’s in mourning."

"How long ago did he die?"

"Well, the first time she yelled at me, I was probably about five, looking at the candy in Melvald’s. She told me all my teeth were going to rot and fall out of my head. So he probably died sometime before I was born."

"And she still wears black?" you ask with wide eyes.

He nods. "She still yells at kids too."

Your lips stretch into a grin, and your shoulders rise as you release a sigh.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

"What?" 

"I know that look," he says, shaking his head, "You think it's romantic."

"It is!" Your fingers wrap around his forearm.

"It's depressing," he says, laughing at you. 

"No. Imagine loving someone so much that even once they're gone, you think about them all the time. A love you can never get over," you explain, squeezing his arm. "That is romantic."

Shaking his head, he glances down at where you're touching him. "I like the way you look at things," he tells you, taking your hand and slipping his fingers into the spaces between yours. “If we're going to stay, we should go into town and get enough food to last us a few days."

"Alright," you say, admiring the way you fit together. Knowing you'll follow him anywhere as long as he keeps holding your hand. 

The walk takes longer than expected. Parts of the asphalt have cracked and given way into deep sinkholes that stretch across entire streets, causing you to backtrack and change routes more than once. 

"I think we better take everything we can carry," he says as he ties the red bandanna covering his mouth and nose. "We might not be able to come back." The smell of rotten food is wafting through the shattered glass doors of Bradley’s Big Buy. Unprepared on your first visit, Steve threw a brick through the glass, and the stench left you both gagging. 

"I'm ready." Your fingers smooth out the cloth covering your face before you follow him through the shattered door. He makes a quick pass across the store, checking down every aisle to make sure you're the only ones in here. After getting the all-clear, you walk to the opposite end of the store, moving up and down the aisles filling your backpack and duffle with anything you deem as a necessity. It's a cruel kind of race to see which will last the longest – your food or the Upside-Down.

Pushing a few cans around on the shelf, you search for the ones that haven't gotten puffy. The zipper on your duffle will never close, but you slip another can of SpaghettiOs in any way, knowing that Steve likes them. Your arms already ache with the thought of carrying all this back to the cottage. 

"I'm done," you call out, lugging your bags to the front of the store, where you leave them to search for Steve. Typically much quicker, he's usually by the door tapping his foot, impatient for you to finish. Today you find him between the moldy bread and crackers, boxes of open Twinkies strewn all over the floor, and loaded bags at his feet.

"What are you doing?" You ask, catching him frowning down at the open box in his hands, its contents a putrid green. 

"These things are supposed to last forever," he grumbles, tossing the box over his shoulder and reaching for another. 

"You don't even like Twinkies, Steve," you point out, amused by the intensity of his search. 

He throws another box on the floor and stops with his hands on his hips, looking at you. "Yeah, but you do." 

He's trying. The muscle in the center of your chest swells, pushing against your rib cage, feeling too big for such a small space as its rhythm changes like a record skipping to a new song. Your feet carry you towards him without your permission, a sudden shift catching you in the pull of his gravity. Your I'll Never list has just shortened by one–you have definitely lost your head for this boy. 

"It's the last box." He picks it up from the otherwise empty shelf, turning it over in his hands before his gaze shifts to you. "I've got a good feeling about this one." His fingers slide beneath the edge of the cardboard breaking the glue. Opening the box, he thumbs threw the cellophane

packets with a sour look.  Finally stopping when a devastating smile takes over his handsome face. 

He pulls out a single package, letting the box with the rest fall to the floor. Holding up the pristine cakes proudly, he quirks his eyebrows at you, looking just as smug as when you laid eyes on his other package yesterday in the cave. 

"Remind me never to bet against you, Harrington," you say, returning his smile. 

He answers with a wink, tucking them away into the breast pocket of his vest. "We'll save these for later."

Later is a decadent concept when it may never come, but delaying will make it taste even sweeter. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his eyes linger there. He must know that, too. 

“We should go.” 

“Alright.” He retrieves his bags and accompanies you to the front of the store, where he waits for you to adjust the full backpack on your shoulders. The large glass windows begin to rattle in their frames, and a vibration runs under your feet. 

“Shit.” Steve drops his duffle and reaches out to grab your shoulder as sounds of jars smashing and cans falling off the shelves fill the store. The tremor intensifies, sending you careening forward, falling against him. The weight in your pack adds to the force knocking you both to the ground. When you land on top of him the air is driven from your lungs. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you to his chest. One of the big grocery shelves tips over, starting a domino effect. A crack appears on the ground, widening as it lengthens, running straight toward you. Steve rolls you both away as it shoots past, leaving him on top. Then, as quickly as it started, it ends, everything goes still and quiet.

“Are you okay?” He asks a bit too loud, considering your face is inches from his. Sucking in panicked breaths, you manage to nod. He rolls off you onto his back and scrubs his face with both hands. “That was intense. The quakes are getting worse,” he says, trying to regulate his own breathing as the adrenaline leaves him. 

“I think I’ve had enough shopping for one day,” you quip.

“Me too,” he chuckles beside you. “Let’s get out of here.”

The street outside Bradley's didn’t fare any better than inside the store. The fissure that started inside zig zags across the road leaving the building across the street torn in two, collapsing into a deep chasm. A look shared between you is easy to interrupt–you were lucky. 

The destruction means you can’t travel the same route you used to get there, taking you further into a section of town that was already crumbling. Smoke filling the air from the nearby fire mixes with the low-lying mist that is a permanent resident here, making it harder to see more than a few meters ahead. You're shifting your duffle from one arm to the other when Steve's arm shoots out across your body, halting you in your tracks. With his other hand, he brings his index finger to his lips, then points ahead of you. 

Three full-grown Demodogs are becoming visible through the fog, their attention drawn to something squirming between them. Their horrible petal mouths are open, jaws snapping and tearing at the whining creature they're feeding from. Steve hands you his duffle and reaches over his shoulder for the spiked bat sticking out of his pack. He points at an alleyway up ahead and motions for you to follow. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head no, tilting your head back in the direction you came. No, he mouths, pointing at the alley, Trust me. But your gaze moves back to the monsters, the wet squelching of their mouths louder in your ears. He steps in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, tilting your chin towards him. Trust me, he mouths again. This time you nod, comforted by the deep hazel of his eyes. 

A small smile is your confirmation. The warmth of his hand leaves your face as he turns away from you and takes a few steps toward the alley, looking over his shoulder to make sure you're following. Ice water has replaced your blood, your heart pumps overtime sending it through your veins, making each step forward a struggle. There's a voice screaming for you to turn around and run, but you trust Steve, so you follow. 

Their growls and chitters drown out the sound of your footfalls as you approach the mouth of the alley. As you round the corner, you catch a glimpse of what they're eating. Fear rushes over you in a dark, suffocating wave, the slick gray spotted body of another dog torn open, washed in its own blood. Your hands start to shake, and nausea sets in. The fog seems to permeate your mind. Every line of thought frays at the ends, leaving the one terrible inescapable truth repeating.

This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.

The ashen color that replaced the glow on your skin is one that Steve is familiar with, along with the blank look and the awkward movements of your steps. You’re going into shock. He had seen it happen enough with the others to recognize the signs. He grips your arm above your elbow and steers you down the alley, needing to get you away in case your feet stop cooperating altogether. 

After crossing a few more streets, the smoke starts to thin. There is less damage to this section of town. The rasp that accompanies your breaths is making him nervous. He pries his duffle from your grip, slinging it over his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

“You're okay,” he soothes, “We’re both alright. I’ll get you out of here—just breathe through your nose. Pull down your bandana.”

Relief floods him when you reach up with one hand and yank it off your face. “Good girl. Keep breathing nice and steady. I’m right here with you,” he says, hurrying you along. The streets have become residential, and he directs you through a maze of neighborhoods and backyards, recognizing spots where he played as a child. No, not here. This isn’t home, he thinks, spotting the collection of cracked and broken garden gnomes on Mr. Larson’s front lawn. It’s a nightmare, a cheap knock-off, and as he looks toward the horizon, he realizes nothing could ever replace the real Indiana sky. 

The outlines of the angry storm clouds are still evident even as the dim light fades into the velvet of night, but the flashes of red have been replaced by a smooth, rolling emerald light mixing with pinks and violets—an aurora caused by the gasses being released as the atmosphere cracks. Dustin. That little shit. He was right. It’s happening just as he had warned Steve it would. He wishes he could tell him. 

He glances at you and sees your eyes fixed on the display above, your breathing faltering. Pulling you against him a little tighter, he quickens his pace. 

"No, Steve. Stop," you say, planting your feet, "Just stop."

Your voice startles him. It feels like he hasn't heard it for so long. He lets you pull away and watches as you drop your duffle to the ground.

"Didn’t you see? They were eating each other?" Standing in the near darkness, you rub the ache from your arm.

"I know," he says in a calm voice. 

"You know what that means.” The look on your face is one of resignment.

“Don't think about that right now, okay?” He steps closer, wanting to touch you, but runs a hand through his hair instead. “We need to get back to the cottage. We'll be safe there.” 

“Safe?” 

“I can protect you there.” He gestures in the direction of the woods. The little house is not far now. The disbelief in your voice is making him feel out of control. You’ve never doubted him, and he needs your faith now more than ever. “I'll close the shutters, and we'll move some furniture in front of the doors.” 

“Steve,” your tone is feather-light, both hands land on his chest, one smoothing to his shoulder, “There are some things I want you to know-”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing at your hands with no real force. 

Circling his neck, you pull his head down until his forehead is pressed against yours. “You’ve been so brave and strong. I’m so grateful.”

"Stop. Don't talk like that." He straightens up and cups your jaw tilting you back to look into your eyes.

“You deserve to kn-”

“No, not yet. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.” He came to this place ready to die, but you made him take the risk and keep living. He’s not ready to give up and won’t let you either. “I need more time. I'm just figuring it out.”

“What is it?” you ask, gripping his wrist, “What are you figuring out?” The thick cover of clouds has thinned, no match for the colors dancing all around you. He can see their brightness gleaming in your eyes. 

“That you're all I need.” 

It's not a choice anymore when his lips press against yours. It's just something that is, like the rain or a season. It comes whether it's beckoned or not. He feels a little foolish that he was ever unsure when you kiss him back like you've been his from the start. Always so busy trying to be the hero he almost missed it when someone saved him in return. 

Fingers wandering along your jaw, he swallows your sighs and your air, your want until he feels your hands wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, then he gives it right back. The world around you passes in a blur while tongues and swollen lips move languid and deep. This is where he lives now, in this kiss. All along, you've been his reward, and now that he's claimed you, he won't ever let go. He would've stayed here forever until your soft whisper between a series of broken-up kisses. 

"Steve, take me home."

The cottage is quiet until you hear the first bang of the shutters being closed, followed by the slide of the bolt. After leaving the bags of food in the kitchen, you stand in the living room wiping your palms on the front of your jeans, counting each strike of the wood against the walls as Steve moves around the outside of the house, knowing that each one is bringing him closer to coming through the front door. Your fingers touch your kiss-stung lips, still feeling how his mouth pressed against yours, creating a loop of electricity, passing from him into you, making your heart glow like a bulb, lighting up every secret place inside you until you had nowhere left to hide the truth. You've completely fallen for him. 

He walks inside, his eyes seeking out yours. A lock of hair falls over his brow as his lips turn upward, and he reaches for you. A hand on your waist, the other gripping your chin tilting your face to catch your bottom lip between his. 

"Help me move this." He kisses you once more before motioning you to the other end of the heavy oak credenza. It scrapes and catches against the wood-planked floor, but you manage to wedge it up against the door. 

The tension feels thicker than the fog rolling over the dry lake bed when you're finally closed in together. His flashlight clicks on, casting a dim beam in the direction of the bedroom. Eyes on each other, you wait to see who will be the first to crack—it's you. Taking his hand with a gentle pull, you lead him down the hall. The uneven floor creaks as you shuffle into the bedroom, letting go of his hand, you stop at the foot of the bed and wait. It's his turn now. 

Your fingers fist the cuffs of your sweatshirt while he goes about his routine. Flashlight on top of the dresser. Bat leaning by the door. Knife and Barretta on the nightstand, and then his heavy backpack hits the floor, followed by his jacket and vest. He sneaks glances at you the entire time, checking for signs that you’ve changed your mind, but you’ve never been more sure.

“You left the flashlight on,” you remind him when he moves into your space. He has been like that since you met, always standing a little too close. This whole wide world all to yourselves, and he was never more than a few inches away.

“I want to see you,” he admits. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," comes out breathy as his thumb traces across your cheek. Remembering the way the water dripped down his chest in the cave has you hoping the batteries will last. 

His head dips to capture your lips in a slow wet slide while his hands cradle your jaw, angling your head to take the kiss deeper. Dreamy minutes tick by, his attention never leaving your mouth. His controlled pace makes you feel needy and wanton. When you feel the sharp edge of his teeth against your lip, you know you aren't alone. Hands slide down your nape, across your shoulders, skimming down your sides. Fingers coming to rest in the hem of your sweatshirt. 

"Can I take this off?"

You're so lightheaded it takes seconds to respond. Nodding your head and raising your arms toward the beamed ceiling. His hands grip the layers of material, riding you of them all at once instead of one at a time. The gold in his eyes turns molten as they pass over every curve and line he's uncovered. His knuckles turn white, fisting your shirt, and how he looks at you makes your knees a bit weak. Pulling your clothes from his hands, you let them fall to the floor.

"You're so goddamn pretty," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

"I know," you tease, earning you an easy smile and his hands on your waist, drawing you close.  His head drops to your neck, chuckling against your skin, making your whole body break out in shivers. 

"You're funny." His lips move on your skin before placing a wet kiss on a spot that has your toes curling inside your boots. "There were a couple of times I had to try really hard not to laugh.”

“I-I knew…you were holding out on me, Harrington,” you stammer as he moves to the spot below it. 

“I wanted you to keep trying,” he says, adding gentle suction.

Whatever you were going to say comes out in a whine, but it was probably something like, please don't stop. He continues down to your collarbone, hands stroking up your back, releasing the catch on your bra. Letting the strap fall down your shoulders, you pull it out from between you as his mouth reaches the swell of your breast. Warm hands cup you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

“Steve,” you beg when he switches to the other side, not knowing if you want him to stop or give you more. Tugging him up by the collar, you crash your lips into his, but he slows you down with the backs of his fingers along your cheeks and a kiss so gentle it makes you want to cry. He walks you backward until your butt hits the mattress, and he leans forward, laying you down carefully until you're leaning on your elbows. With another soft press of his mouth, Steve straightens and sighs, looking down at you spread out for him. 

“I would never have stopped,” you say when he lifts your foot and presses it against his thigh to loosen your laces. He swallows hard, nodding in understanding before he goes back to removing your boots and socks. This feels so different. He's making it different, taking care of every part of you like he wants it all. 

Your fingers find their way into the gaps of the knitted afghan you're lying on while you watch him take off his boots and shirt. A dark patch of hair starts at the center of his chest and fans out. Even in this dark place, his skin looks golden. This is really happening. A flutter of nerves mixes with tingles of arousal.

His knee hits the edge of the bed, and you inch back toward the center as he crawls over you, settling into the cradle of your thighs. Skin finally meeting skin, you each release identical sighs.

"I should have kissed you when we were in the cave," he says, lips ghosting a path along your cheek. 

"It's okay." Your eyes are heavy-lidded as you run your hands over the dips in his spine, enjoying the feel of him. "You're kissing me now."

"I should have kissed you every day." He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth before pulling back and smoothing the hair at your temples. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time."

"Steve," you cradle his jaw, "You were worth the wait." Your whole life, you've been waiting for him, and the way he's kissing you now, you'd have waited even longer. Every kiss is a poem—pretty words printed on lips and tongues. Every touch is a story all its own. 

He toys with the button on your jeans. Your zipper being lowered sounds like a needle dragging across a record. Moving onto his knees, he drags the denim down your legs, kissing each hip and your soaked panty-covered center before removing those too.

Kneeling to join him, your mouth finds the sharp line of his stubbled jaw. He groans, head tipping back, giving you better access to place soft, gentle bites along the column of his throat while your hands open his belt and pants. When you look down, the broad head of his cock is already pushing through the band of his boxers. Grabbing both layers, you ease them off his hips. He helps by pushing them the rest of the way down his legs, sending them to the floor with a kick. 

Bared to each other in the yellow glow of the flashlight, you can feel the pages flipping by. Time is a luxury, but you won’t rush to the end. Laying down beside each other, you explore everything you've uncovered. In this moment, he’s yours. It feels decadent to touch him—a layer of softness over lean muscle. You’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. 

His hands slide over you, warming your skin, molding to each curve. Every inch of you is admired. When his fingers move between your legs, your vision gets hazy, stars bursting at the edges. He spreads slickness through your folds while his lips stay pressed against yours. The warm blanket of pleasure becomes hotter, heavier—you grip his forearm with a shaking hand. 

“Don’t be scared,” he says against your lips, “Tonight is for us.”

“I’m not scared,” you reply, pulling him closer, you can’t think of any place safer than in his arms.

“Why are you trembling?” He asks, brows pulling together.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything this much.”

Your legs fall open as he positions himself between them, lining up with your entrance. No doubts that you both are ready. He's slow and gentle with his first push inside you. Your body stretches and takes, then stretches and takes some more. He's about halfway when you can't help but clench around him, and he thrusts forward with a moan. Your back arches involuntarily, feeling fuller than you've ever been before. 

"Sorry." He nudges you with his nose.

"Don't apologize." You kiss wherever you can reach. "Do it again."

He chuckles, and his hips flex enough to have your breath catching, still getting used to his size.

"You feel so good." His eyes briefly close as your walls flutter around him, and he begins to move in slow, shallow strokes. "Like you're made for me, honey." 

You're starting to think maybe you were. Maybe you were made for each other. He drops to his forearms, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours. His hand slides over your hip and down your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist so can bury himself deeper. He rocks into you with a steady pace, gazes locked, trading sighs, impossible to be any closer. The ache in your heart swells, spreading through you. A tear spills over your lash line, it's too much for you to contain. 

"I love you," you whisper as he wipes it with his thumb. "I thought you should know." 

His movements still. He stares down at you and swallows hard, trying to loosen the tightness in his throat. "Tell me again." 

"I love you." 

Taking your hand, he holds it against the center of his chest. His heart beats against your palm. He's been telling you this whole time. He smiles, and it feels brighter than the sun. Your hand stays pressed against the warm skin over his heart as his head dips, sealing his soft lips to yours.

His kiss is filled with words left unsaid and unrestrained desire. Your hips roll involuntarily, desperate for friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks away with a scrape of teeth and hungry eyes.

"I need you," he mumbles, lifting your hips to change the angle. His hand grips the back of your thigh, pushing it toward your chest, using it as leverage as he drives into you with smooth deep rolling thrusts. Jolts of white-hot pleasure bloom from your core and radiate to every cell when he finds that switch inside you. The one that has you crying out. The one that didn’t exist before him. You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does. 

“That’s it, honey. I want to hear all those pretty noises.” His fingers tighten, pressing into the plush of your thigh as his hips snap forward. The smacks of skin on skin become the baseline for your harmony of moans and pleas. Your heels dig into his backside as your hips rise to meet his thrusts. The chill in the room does nothing to calm the heat between you or the sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

"Steve...I–"

Threads of love and pleasure weave together until they're a single silken cord pulling taunt inside you. He releases your thigh, working his hand between you, his thumb circling your slick clit. 

"Please, baby. I want to feel you cum." 

The rasp in his voice. The desperate look on his face. You're his, and there's nothing you'd deny him. The cord snaps with you crying out his name, pulsing around him, fingers digging into the muscles that cap his shoulders. Euphoria crests in big surges that go on and on as he thrusts lose their tempo. He groans as warmth starts to fill you, painting your walls white with his release. 

He eases onto you, and you take his weight cradling him to your chest. 

"I love you. I love you. I love you," you whisper, maybe too low for him to hear, your hands smooth over his back while your legs wrap tightly around him. He kisses along your temple before taking your face in his hands. 

"I don't regret a single decision that led me to you."

For an instant, you live a lifetime that could have been in each other's eyes. Then his head lowers, and your eyes close. Tender kisses turn hot, and he’s hard inside you. Distant howls echo through the dead trees while strange winds rattle the shutter of the cottage, but both go unnoticed as you claim the night as yours. Each time he has you, the need for each other only grows. After your bodies have given each other everything there is to give, sleep steals you away a few hours before the light changes.

He's still holding you when the vibrations send the bedside lamp crashing to the floor. Wisps of smoke curl in the air when you wake up in the hazy room with a burning throat and begin coughing. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you from the bed. He braces one arm against the door frame and holds you against his chest with the other. The tremors increase. The sounds of falling things and breaking dishes mix with the rumbling of the earth. A crack forms at the bottom of the far wall and runs diagonally toward the ceiling.  A scream rips from your dry throat when the window explodes into a shower of glass, and smoke pours into the room. 

“We’ve gotta get out now,” Steve yells when the quake abruptly stops. “Get dressed and grab what you can.”

Grabbing your crumpled jeans from the floor, you slide them over your hips and shove your feet into your boots. Your sweatshirt sticks out from under the bed, and when you kneel to grab it, the black metal handle of the Baretta catches your eye. Steve has finished dressing and is grabbing his pack and bat when you finish pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take. He leads you into the living room, where half the ceiling has collapsed, spoiling any chance of you moving the heavy credenza that blocks the front door. 

“The window,” you cry, backtracking into the bedroom with Steve right behind you. He lifts you through the broken frame but is left with no choice other than to grip the window frame to climb out. Jagged glass slicing his hand in the process.

“Your hand.” Your fingers circle his wrist, trying to assess the damage.

“It’s alright,” he says, pulling a bandana from his pocket and squeezing it into his fist,“We have to go.” His injured hand goes around your shoulder, turning you away from the cottage. Blood flows through the gaps of his fingers, dripping onto your sweatshirt as he keeps you tucked into his side. 

The dense, acrid smoke makes finding your way through the trees hard. Smoldering twigs and vines rain down all around you, igniting piles of dry leaves on the forest floor. Your mouth opens with a gasp when your eyes turn skyward to see the treetops blazing and the billows of rolling red and orange flames that have replaced the dark clouds, completely consuming the atmosphere. The smoke thins as you make it out of the woods and into the open center of the dry lake.

Hot tears pour from your eyes, leaving streaks of soot down your face, and you can't stop coughing, trying to clear your distressed lungs. The quarter-full canteen from Steve’s pack is pressed into your hands.

“Drink it,” he rasps, coughing and spitting the black from his lungs.

Twisting the top, you gulp it, careful to drink only half. He shakes his head when you hold it out to him, but you take his hand and wrap it around the bottle, not giving him a choice. With an annoyed look, he finishes the water.

“What do we do?” you ask, panicked, watching his head turn back and forth, trying to decide the best course of action. The smoke and fog make it hard to see more than fifty feet in any direction. He looks down at your alarmed face, the sorrow in his eyes giving you his answer. 

No. It can't be over. Pressing the heels of your hands to your forehead, you wrack your brain for any answer. 

"The cave," you grasp his arms, pleading.

"Is it deep enough?" He asks, the doubt written on his face. 

"I-I don't know." You shake your head with fresh tears filling your eyes. 

His face hardens in determination. "Let's go."

Hands locked together, you race through the tangle of vines covering the limestone bed toward the other side of the lake, where the cave is tucked into the side of a hill just beyond the edge of the woods. Glancing back over your shoulder, you can see a wall of flames has crashed like a wave engulfing the houses and the little cottage cutting you off from the way back to town. The smoke thickens as the wind picks up, shortening your field of vision and slowing you down. 

"Almost there," Steve reassures as you do your best to keep up with his long strides.

You doubt your ears when you first hear it, thinking it's just a tree snapping and the roar of the fire. It's the high pitch chittering that has terror creeping up your spine.  Its outline becomes visible through the smoke. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Petal mouth in full bloom. Your body freezes in place. Your grip on Steve’s hand tightens like a vice.

“Stay behind me,” he tells you, shaking his hand from your clasp as the monster comes into full view. It limps forward, smoke rising from charred skin covering half its body, its damaged clawed limb hanging loosely at its side—sticky strings of saliva drip from its rows of teeth.

Steve waves a hand behind him, motioning for you to stay back while he steps forward with caution. He plants his feet, twirling the bat before catching it with his other hand, holding it up high over his shoulder. His fingers open and close around the handle to adjust his grip. A low growl vibrates the flaps of its open mouth as the thing keeps moving forward. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve says in a low, calm voice, “You’re already hurt. Just let us walk on by.” 

You’re astonished when the monster stops, like maybe it understood him, and for a heartbeat, you think it may have listened. 

It charges forward with a deafening roar, claw swiping at Steve's head. Missing when Steve drops into a low batter’s crouch, swinging his bat and connecting with the burned half of its abdomen. It shrieks when the nails tear through its flesh. Black blood pouring from the wound.  Steve gives it no time to recover. Hitting it again and again, driving the thing back. It howls, disappearing into the smoke. 

Your pulse is drumming in your ears as everything goes quiet. Steve stands there, elbow up, ready to swing. Trees pop and crackle as the fire spreads through the woods. Your eyes strain, trying to see into the smoke, but there's nothing. Adrenaline starts to dissipate, and Steve's arm comes down slowly. He glances over his shoulder, giving you a smug smile, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

It pounces from the fog, screeching. Backhanding Steve, sending him flying. He hits the ground hard, rolling, trying to get to his feet, but the monster is already too close, on all fours, ready to strike. 

"No!" you scream, drawing its attention. Reaching back, your hand closes over the grip of the Barretta tucked into your jeans. The thing looks at you, and you fire. The bullet punches through the burnt skin of its shoulder.  With an ear-splitting scream, it gallops toward you. Your finger squeezes the trigger in rapid succession. Unloading the clip. Missing more than you hit. Its claw rips through your forearm, knocking the gun from your hand. Clutching your arm, you fall backward onto your butt, trying to inch away.

It knows it has you now. Dropping to all fours, it slowly crawls over you, drooling onto your clothes. It blows its wet breath into your face as it chitters. Your stomach rolls at the stench, and your eyes flutter close as it rears back to strike. 

Wetness splatters your face. The axe head is logged halfway into the back of the monster's thick neck. With a gurgle, the thing falls to its side. With your good arm and feet, you scurry backward away from it. Blood runs down the side of Steve's face from where the skin is split open on his forehead. Breathing hard, he stomps his boot onto the shoulder of the creature. There's a wet sucking sound as he pulls the axe from its neck. He grunts, bringing it down over and over until the monster's head is separated from its body. 

The axe clangs when it hits the ground. Steve wipes the blood from his eyes with the back of his hands. It’s too much, you want to be brave for him, but you can’t hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says in a soft voice helping you to your feet, “Don’t cry.” He wraps his blood-soaked bandana around your arm and pulls you into his chest. “You’re alright.”

Your hands wrap around his waist, dipping under his shirt so you can feel his smooth skin under your fingers while he rubs reassuring circles up and down your back as your teardrops darken the leather of his jacket.

"Aren't you glad you taught me to shoot?" you ask, sniffing into his shoulder, smiling when you feel his chest vibrating with laughter. 

"I guess it came in handy after all," he says with his lips kissing along your temple.

"You saved me, Steve." 

"I didn't–"

"You did."

"I didn't, but I wish I had."

"Look at me." He cradles your jaw to tip your head back, and the small motion leaves you dizzy. As you stand in each other's embrace, the haze and smoke have thickened. 

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb rubs along your cheek, and you laugh, knowing you're covered with soot and gore. “You are, and you deserve to know.”

“Thank you,” you say, knowing why he’s telling you. While you fought off the monster, the blaze swept through the woods, leaving walls of fire surrounding the lake. The vines covering the bed have started to catch. Soon the flames on the ground will flare higher, joining the fiery sky. The planet will heat and explode. The two of you will become bright lights in the cosmos. Constellations. Star dust. Souls forever wandering the galaxies. 

"I love you," he tells you with tears in his eyes, "I do. I love you."

"I love you too." Your throat burns with the effort to speak.

"Close your eyes."

Your eyes close as his head dips and his soft lips press against yours. His hand slides to the back of your neck and you cling to him. Trading breaths, tongues dancing. 

This kiss is a thousand words. 

This kiss is goodbye. 

The heat is at your back and through your closed eyes the light gets brighter. His grip on you tightens before the kiss breaks and you hear him calling out your name. When you look for him, it's too bright to see, like you're staring into the sun. His hands slip as he's pulled away from you, sliding over your shoulders and arms until you're connected by just your fingertips. 

"No. El." His voice comes from far away. Echoing down a tunnel. "Not without her."

"Steve," you scream as his fingers slip away. "Steve!" But you're alone with the howl of the wind and the taste of smoke in your mouth. Your hands come up to shield your face as the light gets brighter, and then there's nothing. 

Part 3 Here

AN: So what do you think is in store for these two? Are they going to make it? Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment & reblog Part 1. Writing this fic has been challenging, so the comments meant a lot. But even if you're shy and don't like to comment but still took the time to read I'm still very grateful. My asks are always open, (Anon or Not) Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Another big thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for letting me adapt her concept.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #if tomorrow never comes

[williaml0ver]

☆ <3 Ganji Gupta giving his s/o a cat ☆ <3

[🖇️] word count: 1535

[🖇️] warnings: g/n reader, fluff, comfort, crack, not proofreading any of this lol

[🖇️] author's note: did i mention previously that i don't know how to portray Ganji in headcanons? Well yes... did i give that idea up and started working on something else but stopped in the middle because i got a stupid idea? Well yes! I'm glad to present all of you a silly Ganji drabble in those testing times!

-As a cricket player, your boyfriend quite often had to leave your shared cottage. Of course, sometimes he'd let you tag along, but it was not always possible. Days like this were filled with loneliness, and as much as you appreciated Ganji's passion and hard work you did experience the terrible moments of emptiness.

-Ganji, as much as he'd prefer to stay together, knows it wouldn't be responsible. The bills are no joke. There is always an emotional aura around when he's coming home — when you receive a letter confirming his homecoming you feel literally head over heels. Then, once Ganji arrives he is welcomed with a cozy dinner and a long cuddle session.

-You manage to notice that your boyfriend, who sometimes may be hard for you to read is in fact acting a little strange, yet you assume that maybe the homesickness was still kicking in, so you decided to not confront him.

-Ganji NEVER allows you to help him in unpacking, stating that you've already done enough by keeping the house clean. When this time you hear no protests from his side you know something is up, you just can't wrap your head around what exactly. You're told to grab some luggage and bring it to your shared room. You decide to obey him to not raise any suspicion. After he's made sure you're busy upstairs, he begins his secret plan. Ganji sneaks out of the cottage. He approaches a small shed standing next to it, and takes your surprise to meet you.

-Meanwhile, you are still upstairs, folding your boyfriend's clothes and putting them into your joint wardrobe, feeling grumpy, yet grateful he is finally back. Suddenly, you hear him calling you. Assuming he just needs your assistance, you unassumingly get up and go downstairs. What you see however is nothing you expected it to be...!

-Standing next to you, you look at Ganji gently smiling. Then, your attention turns to his chest. Inside his partially unzipped shirt you notice a small fluff ball being carried in it, your lover's hand gently petting it. Unsure what to do, you cover your mouth with your hands and try to process what did just happen. The batter explains that he's aware of the gap, the hole he leaves inside you when he has to leave you for business for some time. It truly makes his heart break, therefore he decided it may be a good idea to give you a small companion.

-You quickly run over to Ganji, giving him a kiss on the lips, he then holds the small cat in his palms and gives it to you. A small group hug is formed. Of course, knowing it's a small animal, you took the batter's gift very seriously. You asked several key questions, including if there are furniture and food prepared for it. His heart melted after hearing you saying that it's like if you two had a baby to raise. Ganji knew that now when he leaves you will feel at least a little less lonely now. He also admired your dedication to help him raise the small one.

-Sooner or later, this moment was impossible to avoid, in no time, Ganji was once again called to come back. You spent your final night together cuddling in bed, his arm around you. You have placed the cat between both of you. Out of the three, you fell asleep first. It always amazed you how Ganji could sleep for so few hours and still be able to function properly. He silently watches your sleeping form while smiling to himself, petting both of his now two little ones.

-After Ganji left for good, he kept thinking about you for the next few days. Are you doing alright? Is the cat causing any trouble? Before bringing it to you, he hasn't noticed any nasty behaviour coming from the small creature, but what he DID notice is that this time you've let him go rather easily. Whenever it was time for your boyfriend to get back to work, you would always become very clingy, sometimes even shedding a tear here and there. But this time? You seemed weirdly calm. He later came to a conclusion that his small fluff ball of joy is probably the reason for the sudden change in your mood. Good, he thought, you are now more or less distracted while he is away.

-Another thing he wasn't aware of is that now that while he's gone, the cat is literally wrapping you around it's fingers... i mean claws. At one point or another, you unawarely become a maid at your own house. You constantly spend your time with your cat. It's got new toys, new food, new places to play in.

-As time passes, Ganji once again comes back and is welcomed by you enthusiastically as always. He sees his "child" has now grown and is being well taken care of by his lover. He doesn't mind at all that there is now more cat accessories around the house, it's just proof that it's being treated properly.

-After a homecoming dinner, Ganji decides he needs some fresh air and alone time. He however starts to sense a stinky smell. While trying to find it's source, he stumbled upon his shoes. He decided to give the search up and go outside, but then, the moment of realization hits. Someone has SHAT inside HIS shoes! and he doesn't need further investigation to know who is behind this. The only question in his mind is why? After spending so much time with their lover home alone, he assumed you instructed it on how to properly use the litter box, right? And the answer is that you in fact did. Though for mysterious reasons, the cat decided to give his second owner a proper welcome.

-See, small guy noticed that after Ganji returned, you paid more attention to him instead. Obviously, kitty doesn't like that and has to show this man where his place is. Ganji just found himself a mortal enemy - at one point, those nasty surprises became a cycle. Each time he came back, a trick would be played on him and yet you didn't seem to be offended by the vandal's actions. The cat keeps attacking his leg, bites him, steals his food from the plate, hides his socks in his small bed. What's going on? When he arrives home after a long time, the not-so-innocent-and-not-anymore baby tries to get your attention all the time, acting like it's in pain, all to make you less and less interested in Ganji's long awaited homecoming.

-While being petted by you, it mischievously stares at your love, and he isn't scared to stare back. They watch each other with pure hatred and jealousy. It can last minutes. They are barely blinking... it's like a forever fight who is going to win your attention. Ganji brought a monster into his house.

-"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE..."

-You literally can't cuddle either of them alone. Whenever the other sees you hugging, he has to step in, much to the other's discomfort. Ganji's last straw though was when he found his bat scratched with claws and bite marks. He is rarely angry when he arrives home, but this one time he was extremely grumpy. Do you guys know that feeling when your pet randomly decides to jump on you with all their force? Ganji is a constant victim of that.

-Finally, your boyfriend draws the line. He is tired of being harassed in his own house, by his own child. You wouldn't even be surprised if he told it to find a cat job and help pay the bills. He decides to have a serious chat with you the next morning.

-While he was sleeping, Ganji has had a serious nightmare. He always talked with you about that one dream, the one with the burning building. You know it was very traumatic for him so you always comforted him. But not this time. You were so tired you didn't even wake up, and meanwhile Ganji was shaking and panting, all sweaty. He wishes he wouldn't have to wake you up, but it seems like there is no other choice. Then, suddenly he feels paws touching his bare chest. It's that demon, he thought to himself, expecting the worst to happen, for a goofy cat to make him feel even more down than before. To his surprise, the cat sits on his stomach and begins to, how you like to call it, make biscuits. Ganji quickly feels better, grateful to the little cat he got so jealous of before. Your baby fell asleep together with your lover holding it in his hands. When you woke up to that sight, you felt very moved by the act.

-Some time later, each of them began respecting each other a bit more, "maybe it isn't that bad after all, huh?" Said Ganji. What he didn't know, is that at the same time, his small troublemarker was chewing on his favourite sportswear.

-Let's say, you had to get both of them to your bed and cuddle with each other to calm down the situation...

[🖇️] absolutely devastated that Ganji doesn't have a plushie or anything... i'm like screaming crying peeing and throwing up 💔 well i decided to make an autistic yipee Ganji themed creature... i think i'll also edit my first two hc posts and turn autistic yipee creatures into Naib and William too hehe

#identity v #idv #idv hcs #idv x reader #ganji gupta x reader #ganji gupta #ganji gupta headcanons #idv batter #idv x you #ganji gupta x you

[wilbursprincess]

PART 4 OF PRINCE WILBUR, PART 3 GAVE ME MEMORIES OF ROMEO AND JULIET ELOPING

-✨

Arranged Marriage With Princebur Pt. 4

Princebur x Female Reader

Warnings: No angst this time. Fluff, smut, all the feel good reads!

Fourth and final part of this story :) Love that everyone’s loved Princebur, and maybe I’ll have some more oneshots of him and reader that take place after this story!

Headcannons below cut!

~You two end up settling on a bit of land across the border, a cozy cottage nestled in the woods, a stream running through the pretty hills.

~To afford some furniture, you sell all the jewels and clothes from your old life, which gives you just enough for a rough wooden table, two chairs, and a perfectly cozy bed.

~Wilbur teaches himself to chop firewood to keep you two warm, and you set to work learning how to plant crops and keep animals, cooking simple yet delicious meals for two every day.

~He’s so tender and loving, the best husband you could ask for.

~You both wake with the sun each morning, Wilbur heading outside to milk the cow and collect eggs from the chickens that you’ll scramble up with homemade toast and hand churned butter for breakfast.

~One morning, he comes back to your little home with a mewling kitten in his arms, looking proud of himself.

~”Well, he was all alone by himself! I couldn’t leave him there, could I?”

~Soon after, in addition to your cow and chickens, you have three cats and two dogs. The dogs are allegedly to protect the animals, but Wilbur insists they sleep in the bed with you two and the cats each night.

~Wilbur feels so bad for basically ignoring your existence when you still lived in the castle, blaming himself for not wanting to own up for his feelings and begs to make it up to you.

~And oh, man, did he make it up to you.

~Being alone in a cozy thatched cottage with a lot of pent up energy…

~You were surprised that your family was limited to you two and a bunch of animals with how much he was pawing at you.

~Besides, when the sun went down, and the only light was coming from the fireplace… what else was there to do?

~The life you lived in luxury, with silk gowns, diamond jewels dripping from your neck and ears, staff waiting on you hand and foot, to waking up with the sun to feed the animals in the mud and rain… it was night and day difference.

~You’d often walk up to the small town, where they had a farmers market every Sunday.

~Your homemade bread and pastries were a favorite, and with the money from selling them, you took up a few hobbies.

~Knitting, crocheting, and painting were your favorites, and occasionally, Wilbur would join in the painting.

~Truth be told, he was awful, but you enjoyed spending time with him.

~This was the happiest life you’d ever known, and you couldn’t imagine living without the animals and your clingy-yet-loving husband.

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #princesshcs #princebur #mcyt headcannons #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot smut #wilbur smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut

[hugsandchaos]

So I’m starved for Smiling Critters content, but I don’t exactly have a oneshot in mind to write nor do I exactly have an AU. I do, however, have some headcanons that are definitely canon divergent, especially since I imagined it in the cartoon-like world they were in during the tape recording. I don’t know if it’s enough to build up an AU, but I’m posting them anyways.

•Bubba is fluent in English and Portuguese, and is currently trying to learn sign language from Catnap

•Dogday has 2 sisters and 3 brothers, and he is also the runt of the litter (most of his siblings don’t really care, but one of his brothers likes to pick on him for it and is upset he got “special treatment” when they were younger — that special treatment was mostly just medical treatment and their parents and siblings being responsibly worried about him)

•Bobby and Picky share a favorite way of showing her friends love; by making them their favorite/comfort food for them

•Hoppy doesn’t usually like going slow, but she adores running with her two younger brothers to no end

•Bubba strongly believes Hoppy might have seasonal allergies due to her falling ill for a few weeks when winter turns to spring and pollen levels rise, but Hoppy has her suspicions due to the fact that she’s never been diagnosed to be allergic to anything

•Picky always looks at the nutrition labels at the grocery store

•Picky is thinking about starting her own garden

•Crafty prefers to draw rather than write, but enjoys a good book (she definitely doesn’t have a small library in her living room, I don’t know what you’re talking about)

•Crafty isn’t the best at magic, but she’s learning and her friends are very encouraging

•Bobby’s house is a cozy two story cottage that she keeps nice and clean on a daily basis

•Bobby and Bubba both have a closet in their house full of extra blankets, pillows, towels, and winter clothes

•Kickin’ loves to teach anyone who asks how to surf, how to skateboard, or how to ski

•Catnap almost never talks or makes any sound, but it’s not because he can’t, it’s because he simply prefers not to

•Kickin’ has a great sense of balance

•Catnap is a light sleeper

•Bobby and Catnap sometimes work together to get the group to bed, but in the end, Catnap “turns on her” and gets her to bed too before going to sleep himself

•Kickin’ and Dogday love to plan hiking or camping trips for the group (Hoppy has to stay within someone’s sight so she doesn’t run off, Bobby and Crafty like to stop and look at flowers, Picky likes to pack healthy snacks for everyone, Bubba enjoys telling facts about plants, and Catnap keeps an eye on the whole group by walking in the back)

•Catnap has a surprising amount of knowledge surrounding sleep, even Bubba didn’t know a lot of the things he did

•Bobby has made a plushie for everyone except Catnap, who already has a small, odd plushie resembling a blue creature with yellow hands and feet (Crafty has a flower, Dogday has a bone, Bubba has a dinosaur, Picky has a strawberry, Hoppy has a star, Kickin’ has a dragon, and Bobby has a heart)

•Bobby can actually be scary when she’s protecting her friends

#AU?? #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #bubba bubbaphant #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopscotch #kickin chicken #picky piggy #craftycorn #poppy playtime #headcanons #cartoon AU?? #smiling critters headcanons

[windblume-wishes]

This story is based on this art by the fabulous @icedkappe ! Please do give them a follow!! Their art is PHENOMENAL!!

Permission to write this fic was granted by the artist!

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Lilia Vanrouge and Silver - Sleeping Beauty Sleeps On

Silver, Age 3 - Many Years Ago…

Life in the woods was a peaceful life, quiet and happy for what seemed like everyday for Lilia and his precious son. Everyday was practically filled with sunshine, laughter, and endless smiles from his beautiful little boy. Nothing could ever go wrong- or at least that is what Lilia thought, after all, how could one simply slip past him and his watchful eyes and incredible senses? Certainly no one would dare enter his territory without expecting severe consequences for their actions. He was a father, naturally he was on high alert for his toddler’s safety.

Though, nothing could ever have prepared him for the fright that was to unfold before his eyes…

As he stood at the kitchen counter preparing himself some tea, Silver played happily on the rug by the fireplace still happily in his night clothes looking cozy that chilly February morning. Lilia was in no rush, it was to be a slow day with snow and light winter weather so he had no need to quickly change Silver to his day clothes and prep the child for the outdoors, for now it was more than alright to keep the little one indoors all cozy by the fire.

Silver was an energetic boy, always happy to wake up and greet the day and be the most sunshine filled child Lilia had ever seen. He was normally a ball of energy, little sleepiness inside him, other than at nap time or bedtime- however, that was about to change and Lilia’s whole world was about to shatter.

The child hummed a small tune he heard many a time from his father’s lullabies as he coloured, Lilia smiled, only turning away for a second to pour the kettle until silence was all he heard… then a thud. A loud thud.

Lilia froze, blood running colder than the winter air outside the cottage, the old fae turned around to see his once happy toddler now laying on the ground still… deadly still. He wasted no time in running to his fallen child, praying to any devine being above that his baby was alright.

“Silver?! SILVER?! ANSWER ME!” Lilia yelled frantically as he checked the child over for a pulse- there was a pulse and some small, deep breaths… he was alive but asleep… how? Silver showed no signs of sleepiness before… “SILVER?! SILVER?!” WAKE UP, CHILD!”

No response… only a sleepy exhale and a twitch from the sleeping boy. Lilia panicked, what could have caused this? How could his very awake child suddenly pass out without warning? Silver was just fed his breakfast, no possible way it could have been from lack of food and low blood sugar levels- was it exhaustion? No, it could not be that either… Silver slept as soundly as ever that night, no waking up from a nightmare or an accident, no cries or anything of the sort.

A small yawn left the boy’s lips as he stretched adorably from his sleep, waking up slowly and opening his aurora eyes to greet his frightened father who had tears in his eyes.

“Hmm…? Papa? Papa, what’s wrong? You okay?” The tiny boy asks sleepily, reaching up to lovingly pat his father’s face with his tiny hand. “You okay now, I’m here.”

Lilia could not hold back, he embraced his still sleepy child and held him tightly to his frame. In all his many years of life and experiences of the horrors of war and suffering he had never been more frightened in his life. The sight of his own son, his baby, on the floor appearing as if he were kissed by death itself sent him into a fearful state he had never experienced before.

“My baby… I thought I lost you… oh my baby, my baby boy… you frightened this old man so.” Lilia felt a tear escape his eye, he carefully picked up his son and walked to their favourite rocking chair by the fireplace.

“But- but I’m okay… I sleepy though…” Silver yawned. “Dunno why I’m so sleepy, papa… wanna take a nap now…”

Lilia could not help but crack a smile at his little one’s remark and his adorable sleepy whine. “Alright, just a short nap, alright? Then it’s straight to the doctors office, young man. You cannot be frightening papa here, I love you too much.”

Silver giggled sleepily and then fell right to sleep with his head resting on his father’s heart. The elder fae only held his son closer, trying not to break down in tears again. For the first time ever he feared his child sleeping, what if he never awakened from his slumber? What if he…

No, no, he must not think such awful scenarios. His baby was fine, he was fast asleep cradled in his arms where he should be.

“Great Sevens above, please do not take my child from me… do not take my baby… anything but my baby…”

———

Silver, Age 17 - Present Day…

Classes finished that crisp fall evening and all students were ready for a restful Friday night after a week of hard work and dedication. Midterms were over and everyone was finally feeling the need to unwind and relax. In Diasomnia, many of the boys were finding the time to watch television and keep up with their favourite series, read, learn a new card game, or simply try their hardest not to get food poisoning from a certain Vice Housewarden…

Malleus and Sebek were learning to play a new board game in the lounge when Silver sleepily walked past them and up the staircase to his bedroom. New book in hand, he wanted to attempt to get some much needed reading done before classes started back up on Monday morning. He loved to read, and it just so happened that the literature planned for history was a beloved tale from the Briar Valley about the Sleeping Princess and the Knightly Prince. This was a story he knew well, after all, his father or Malleus would read it to him before bed. The story of true love awakening a fair princess made his heart soar and a soft blush appear on his face.

‘I’m oddly sleepy again…’ the silver haired boy sighed to himself. ‘I just have to try and keep myself awake for as long as possible so I can try and get ahead of the upcoming assignments…’

The sleepiness was definitely not going away. Not anytime soon that is.

Silver opened the bedroom door and sat at his desk, book in hand and began to read….

3… 2…1…. Out comes the snores.

Nope! Not now! Silver jolted himself awake and shook his head like a puppy who got itself wet. He placed the book face down and patted his face a bit in an attempt to keep awake- though, he knew it would probably not get him very far it was still worth a shot. Silver sighed and closed the book, there was no way he would get anywhere near his goal with this drowsy spell so he pulled out his worksheets for Crewel’s class and started to work on those instead.

‘Perhaps the story is making me sleepier because it used to be my bedtime story as a child… hmm, yeah, that must be it. Bedtime stories would make anyone… sleepy… Zzzzzz…’

Silver slumped forward and began to drift off into a deep sleep, much deeper than one of his regular naps. His arm lay limp above where his head rested and his other arm as a pillow. He was still, too still… his breathing slowed and his body became heavy. Sleep had claimed him once more, earning yet another victory over Silver.

Silver began to enter the dream world, stepping fully away from the world outside his closed eyes and into a world where anything was possible, even the impossible was possible. Perhaps even in the dream world his father would become a better cook, he wondered many a times in his dreams.

Soon enough, that very father appeared in his bedroom with a suspicious bowl of what he called mushroom risotto, smiling happily at treating his handsome son to a healthy and nutritious dinner.

“Silver! I made your favourite! Mushroom Risotto~ with some add-ins of course~! Very nutritious!” Lilia paused, his eyes falling onto the slumped over figure of his son laying at his desk, homework scattered under him.

“Oh dear, asleep again? Wakey wakey, sleepyhead! Time to eat~!”

No response… once more his son lay before him unresponsive and still, deathly still…

“Nothing hm? Still.. why.. why am I…?” Lilia began to tremble violently, his breath gasping, he reached a trembling hand forward towards his son but nothing- he could not touch him. He froze in his place.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths… calm down… this is not the first time this has happened. Why on earth am I shaking?” The ancient fae began to take deep breaths, trying his hardest not to hyperventilate, he had to remain strong for his son, for Silver…

“That’s right… this is not the first time this has happened. I must check his- no… it’s not the…”

Lilia’s panics ceased at the sound of a sleepy whine and a shuffle coming from the boy, Silver was waking up.

Oh thank the sevens! His boy was alive!

“Hmm…? How long was I… out…?” Silver stared into his father’s now fear filled eyes, concern now flooded through him, perhaps something happened when he was asleep?

Lilia leaped forward, tackling Silver into a tight hug, a hug he could feel his father trembling.

“I’m okay, father… we are okay…”

Lilia shook his head, sighing softly, “No, no we are most certainly not! You frightened me terribly again, young man! Once more I think it’s time I drag you to the doctor to make sure you are really alright… but before that I made you dinner~ best eat up now, dear!”

Silver eyed the bowl of suspicious mushroom risotto and then to his father nodding. Oh how he prayed that he would survive this round of culinary war crimes- and by the looks of the mushrooms in the dish he was thankful to be going to the doctors soon after.

“I asked that lovely young man in Octavinelle for some of his home grown mushrooms, he seemed so happy to share his lovely little fungi with me~ kufufufufu~!”

Oh great sevens above… help him survive this…

“T-thank you, father…”

“Of course! Oh and that reminds me, I will be spending the night here with you~ I cannot leave my baby after he scared the absolute crap out of me! So I’ll be here all night~! Lullabies included, dear~!”

————

I really had fun writing this fic for @icedkappe ! Thank you for letting me write this fanfic based on your beautiful art! BEAUTE~!! 100 POINTS~!!

Please consider joining the discord server for TWST Shenanigans

#twisted wonderland #twst #windblume writes #twst silver #disney twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #lilia twst #twst lilia