#I just hope I don't get any of my mutuals in trouble by being a more known dead dove writer now.

[twoheadedsam]

Things have calmed down over on Twitter and well! It surely is a hellhole! A mutual of mine got called delusional and mentally ill for liking a rarepair and when we told them to knock it off they were like "omg it's not a big deal... Telling a stranger that they're insane is not mean..." and kept insulting her. But of course they think they hold the moral high ground because they don't write about incest (and of course they shared one of my fics to tell me I'm insane. Because it's so triggering that you need to show it to all your followers)

[mcflymemes]

THINGS MY FRIENDS' MUSES HAVE SAID *  assorted dialogue written by my talented mutuals, adjust as necessary

you are stronger than you think.

there's so much you don't know.

sorry to unload this on you. i just don't get to talk about this much.

i'm sorry for misleading you.

you ought to know that. someone ought to tell you.

you really don't tire of this, do you?

i'm running out of patience for this.

you don't owe me anything. i don't think any of us should owe each other anything.

it's... hard to explain, actually.

sorry for waking you.

the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

i know you're just being nice.

i'll take the blame for this.

you're unbearably ridiculous.

i'm leaving after i get my coat.

quit your grinning.

what if we stayed up later tonight?

i'm still figuring it out myself.

you know i'm just gonna keep asking.

i spilled coffee all over not one, but two shirts.

as treacherous as i thought it might be, this journey has been rather... well. interesting, to say the least.

where did you learn to dance?

why the sudden declaration? you're not leaving me, are you?

maybe we should head back to camp.

the stars looked too pretty last night. i couldn't sleep inside my tent.

i love you. i care about you... but you're scaring me.

i hope you don't think you're going to lure me into your bed after a few charming words.

aren't you supposed to offer your assistance with stuff like this?

maybe you could help me from time to time.

you're a heck of a lot cuter than me.

i'm open to suggestions.

what was that for?

you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to.

why the stubbornness?

there's nights i don't sleep easily.

i'll see you at sunrise.

guess it's a good thing you haven't heard.

been a while since i told anyone about that.

what a damn shame i didn't bring a rose.

you're gonna have to be more specific.

i do live to make your life absolutely awful.

wait for me. promise you will.

i'll keep it safe. i promise.

you don't need to say it.

i'm not a bloody mind reader.

haven't you heard?

i know better than to tell you to stay behind.

you can say no. i won't be mad.

you're even sweeter than i remember.

i would have been even happier if i saw you more often.

honestly, i want to get inside before i start to turn blue.

hope you like meatballs.

not being kind. just being honest.

i'm taking us somewhere sandy.

you'll have to hold onto me for a while.

i want to catch up on my reading.

i'm in trouble. it's really bad.

the guest bedroom is all yours.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Heya! I love your "half a bed" fic!!

You said to drop any "only one bed"-trope ideas in your inbox so I'm hoping I did this correctly? But I'm thinking for Asterion x Tav that since Cazador controlled Star so much, he doesn't really own anything for himself? And maybe Tav notices and because the others are already asleep, she offers for him to share her bedroll? He's snarky and rude and she's unimpressed but it's the start of a mutual very strong infatuation and eventually relationship?

Heyo sorry it took so long!! Had some trouble overcoming the writer's block for this but hey I did it in the end! Hope you like it!

"I don't recall giving you my bedroll." You raise an eyebrow at the pale elf who has taken to using your bedroll every night ever since you first offered to share it with him.

He yawns, flashing his fangs at you before grinning, "we're sharing it, are we not? That means I have every right to lie on it."

"It doesn't mean you can take up the whole thing! Where am I going to sleep?" You attempt to shove him to one side but he refuses to budge an inch. "Move!"

"Nope." He pops the 'p' on purpose, knowing it will irritate you. You scowl and shove harder, half ruing the night you offered to share your bedroll. He laughs at your futile attempts, a genuine smile playing on his lips until you give up and flop onto him, causing him to yelp in surprise. You glower when he complains about you being too heavy, giving his side an annoyed poke but you can't really bring yourself to be mad at him even if he just stole your sleeping spot.

Then again, you always had a soft spot for the vampire spawn.

The first time he shared your bedroll was early on in your adventures. Everyone else had gone to sleep but he had remained outside, seated by the dwindling fire with the excuse that he wasn't tired yet. You'd woken up in the middle of the night to relieve yourself, noticing that even though the fire was long gone, he remained outside his tent.

"Still not tired?" You ask, slightly concerned.

"No." He answers curtly, leaving no room for further questions. You sit next to him, much to his chagrin and he shifts away ever so slightly. You notice it, of course, but choose not to comment on it.

"You should still try and trance, you'll need your strength for tomorrow," you hum, looking up at the night sky. The stars are bright tonight, shining in stark contrast to the dark sky.

"Shouldn't you take your own advice?" He snorts.

"Well, I'm not the one who has been out here the whole time," you retort, suppressing a yawn. He notices, however, the twitch of the corners of your lips and rolls his eyes.

"Go and sleep, idiot. Can't have our dear leader collapsing midway because they didn't get enough rest can we now?"

"Is that concern I hear?" You smirk.

"No." He scowls, sending a glare your way. You give him a look of disbelief, which then morphs into amusement and you grin.

"You're terrible at hiding it you know?" You huff, giving an amused shake of your head.

"Hiding what?"

"Your concern for my well-being."

"What concern?"

"That concern." You fold your arms across your chest, undeterred.

"Tch, stop bothering me and go back to sleep." He snaps, looking away. You, however, remain undaunted by his attitude.

"Is there a reason you can't trance?"

"Stop it and go back to sleep."

"There has to be a reason. Nightmares perhaps?"

"Shut up and stop asking so many questions."

"I'm trying to help you here."

"Then stop trying to help me. I don't need it."

"You don't want it, you mean."

"Yes, finally, you get it. Now leave."

"No." Your response surprises him.

"No?" He asks incredulously. "What do you mean no?"

"I'm not going to leave you to deal with your problems alone. We may not be friends yet, but we are companions. If you're stuck dealing with your own problems, you're not going to be able to fully contribute to the party and that's an issue. So we're going to solve it together, with me helping in whatever way I can and you doing the rest." You put your hands on your hips, daring him to talk back.

"And what if you can't do anything to help solve 'my problems'?" He sneers.

"Then I'll accept it and rely on you less so you can sort your own issues out first." His eyes widen slightly and you can see the panic that flashes across his face. Your heart aches upon seeing his reaction but you steel yourself, reminding yourself that it is for the greater good of the party.

"I —" He pauses, looking down. He sighs, looking back up at you reluctantly, all the fight having left his body. "I don't exactly have a bed roll to sleep in, you see. Cazador never allowed any of his spawn to have any personal belongings, everything belonged to him and he 'loaned it to us out of the kindness of his heart'. Trancing on hard ground is…difficult."

"We can share my bed roll if you're comfortable. Each of us can take a half, it should be big enough for us both."

He blinks, surprised. "Are you…sure? We…" He swallows hard.

"We've slept together before, don't tell me you're squeamish about sharing a bed roll." You raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not. It's just that…"

"Don't worry. I'm not some horny bastard who can't go a night without lying with someone. We can have our own side of the bed roll, no physical contact required." He still looks uncertain, and you sigh. You can't exactly fault him, he's dropped enough hints about certain aspects of his past and you're not going to tear open any of those wounds.

He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. "Are you sure about that, darling? It would suit my taste better if you were~"

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Yeah, right. Anyways, are you going to take me up on my offer or not?"

"I'll take you up on it if you don't mind, darling." His usual smirk replaces the quiet sad look on his face.

"Well, come on then. We don't have much time left."

You can't help but smile upon remembering that night. He'd come so far since that night, the two of you had grown more comfortable with each other, and even after you had bought a bed roll for him, he still preferred sneaking into your tent to steal half your bed roll.

"What are you smiling about?" He pokes your cheek with a huff.

"Nothing." You grin. He rolls his eyes in response, running a hand through your hair. You bury your face in his chest, letting the gentle feeling wash over you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, loving the way you sprawl on top of him without a care in the world. He's a vampire, for goodness sake, and yet you bare your neck to his fangs like that, not the least bit worried he take advantage of the situation and drain you.

"Hmph." He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your hair. As much as he complains about it, your weight is comforting. It reminds him that he isn't alone anymore, that he has you to turn to when he needs someone to lean on, and that you have him to lean on in return.

"Good night, Star." You yawn cutely, stretching your limbs.

"Good night, love." He murmurs back, pressing one last kiss to your head before he drifts off into a trance. You watch him for a while, smiling softly at the way he slowly relaxes as the trance takes hold, worries forgotten for the night.

Wrapped in the cocoon of your vampire lover, you too drift off and let sleep claim you, knowing that when you wake, he will be the first thing you see just as he's always the last thing you see before you sleep.

[bamfkeeper]

Religious Differences

RQ: 'Hiiii if you're comfortable could you write some angst/hurt/comfort where a non-religious reader finds comfort in Kurt's religion and teachings during a hard time? If that makes sense? I've never been particularly religious myself (on the fence about spirituality), but in the past I've found great comfort in friends/family and their religious beliefs when things went awry. Idk something about the mutual comfort and respect towards eachother's ideologies and just talking about different religions and ideas brings me comfort when I'm feeling down :)' - @citiirose

Warnings: GN!reader, religious themes, unedited.

A/N: I felt this rq. I am not religious, but I've had religion shoved down my throat by my parents. For a long time I resented religion, now I don't care as long as it's not pushed on me. I always thought this would be an interesting dynamic with Kurt. This was a little hard to write, but I hope I did a good job getting that comfort in there. I kept the troubles vague, so you could possibly come back and get comfort in any scenario.

WC: 1.4k

Faith in something unseen is almost cruel.

Especially when life threw you curveballs and you had no idea how to swing back.

You never felt the need or desire to believe in teachings spewed from a book older than you could imagine, especially not with all the science and proof saying otherwise. Everything contradicted each other, and a belief in any kind of faith felt confusing. Even learning, you never felt that pull that others do, your faith in an invisible force didn't exist.

Lately, life had been hard. Events were happening that effected you in such a way that you began to feel as though you yourself were crumbling. Nothing was helping you, you felt completely and utterly alone. You were always so strong, yet...you wished you didn't have to be. Or that you had someone around that would help you through it. You were just too stubborn to reach out on your own.

The only person who could always help you feel better was Kurt. He always knew exactly what to do and say to lift your spirits. The kind-hearted Catholic was always the shoulder you needed to cry on, offering you a safe space to express your emotions. His entire presence was incredibly calming for you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and understanding. Kurt could read you like a book, intuitively sensing your needs and providing the comfort you sought. In times like these, when everything felt overwhelming, you could really use that kind of compassionate support.

As if right on queue, the blue German teleported to you with a loud BAMF and purple smoke. He looked at you, his usual charming smile displayed on his face. "Ah, liebe!" he grinned, those fangs poking out of his lips, "I thought we could..." his smile faded slightly as he took in the sight of your sad form. "Ach....what's the matter, liebling?" his voice quieted with his question and he sat down beside you.

"Talk to me, ja? What's going on?" he asked gently, his arm wrapped around your waist and he let you lean on him. His tail wrapped around you too, brushing your leg. He was always so patient with you, his presence was grounding in the swirling thoughts you were having. You almost felt like you were caught in a typhoon, and he had become the shelter you needed for safety.

You slowly opened up and told him of what was going on. You spilled it to him, he was so easy to talk to. Kurt, being the wonderful listener he was, sat quietly and nodded along. He acknowledged everything you said, remembering bits and pieces he would ask about later. Your rant and vent made you feel so lost.

"I just...don't know what to do anymore. Or how to feel. I am...I feel as though I can't control my thoughts or help to think about what happens once everything is gone." You turned to him, "You are always so secure...how do you do it?"

Kurt smiled back, "Ah, I always find comfort in my faith. God is always there, so I am never truly alone. Sure, I cannot see him, but I can always talk to him. My faith is my light and it will always guide me through the dark." Kurt always spoke kindly about his faith, and it made sense. He had his rosary, always, and whenever he needed to, he'd fiddle with it.

You felt bitter. For some reason. Why was Kurt so secure, why weren't you? You were always so sure of things but something as unknown as faith irked you. Kurt was so sure and devoted, you were so upset with everything in your life it made you want to snap at him. You knew that wasn't right, so you held back. He didn't deserve that. But you couldn't help but feel mocked by the very thought of it.

"How are you so sure?" The sharpness in your tone was obvious, "I mean...you can't talk to him really. He doesn't respond back. And, how are you so sure he is real? The books have been rewritten thousands of times, lost in translation. How are you so sure you're even following what he wants? If you believe that." You asked him, you weren't sure how he was so devoted to something that seemed impossible. "Science explains everything the book does. How are there dinosaurs, but no people for millions of years? Or, if they did exist, how did humans survive? Humanity didn't start happening until way later in life. You can't just ignore the facts life has."

He didn't look offended by your questions, he had been asked them many times. He smiled and held his rosary, rolling the beads between his fingers. "There are ways to look around it, God's teachings can seem confusing with what science can explain. Sometimes, faith extends past what you can see with your eyes, and you have to see with your heart and soul. Then you allow it to guide you."

Your brow furrowed with confusion, you couldn't imagine doing that yourself. You just couldn't believe it, and thinking on all the stories that come with Catholicism, you just couldn't pair them with what you knew. Science was there, the stories were vague and the teachings didn't make sense to you. "I still don't get it. There are so many things that tell you the truth. Explanations that don't rely on God, who's essentially an invisible, flying orb in the sky."

Kurt nodded, "Ja, that is true, but as I said, you have to open your heart and allow it to come in to understand it." He rubbed your arm and smiled, "Not everyone can, and that's okay. I know how you feel, and how it might seem...odd. That I am so devoted to something you don't understand. I'm happy to teach you, or talk to you about it..."

You thought for a bit, looking to him and fiddling with the end of the rosary he still held. You weren't sure if you could touch it, but he hadn't moved away. "This might be a weird request but...can you tell me some?"

"Tell you some what?" Kurt tilted his head.

"Some stories. I don't know I just...I think that even if I don't believe like you do...it would help me feel better." You muttered, feeling embarrassed for asking him this, hoping he wasn't offended. He heard the hurt in your voice, he was surprised you asked this, knowing you weren't faithful like he was. Still, who was he to deny you such a simple thing? His grip on you tightened and he leaned into your hair. "Of course, liebling..." he situated you both so he was sat back on your bed, pulling you to lay on him.

After you were cozy, he rubbed your back and told you all the common stories first. Of Eden, of the Ark, the Lion's Den, the Giant, all the classic known ones. As he spoke, he told them in such detail, his voice calm and even. He spoke of the teachings, of the great splitting of the sea, he told both the kindness and power. He told of the faith and love. He was passionate without overwhelming you.

For the most part you listened, letting your eyes close as he spoke and hummed to you. But you of course had your thoughts and questions. Kurt happily answered them, glad you seemed interested. He respected your ideologies, even if you didn't believe like he did. He was still happy to teach you and tell you stories when you felt down like this. He had such understanding, he was respectful and didn't push his faith onto you.

"We are never truly alone, he watches over all of us. He protects us and provides us with comfort. He guides us, helps us through the difficult decisions we may make or is there for us when we need someone. We are of God, even with our...unique...abilities, or appearances. We are the same on the inside, and we are all loved." Kurt looked down, seeing you were close to sleep.

"That's it, liebe..." he smiled and kissed your forehead tenderly, "You will always be loved, even if you don't believe. He loves you, as do I. Rest, your troubles will fade away...I will be with you throughout them. If you don't feel like trusting in God, then trust in me." he hummed gently to your sleeping form, keeping you close and secure, his arms wrapped protectively.

He wished he could take the pain away, but what he could do was be there for you, and he would be no matter what happened.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[jinhyun]

hii, i was wondering if for the "what are we?" prompts if you could please do some sort of combination of "what do you want us to be?" and "i was hoping we could be more than just friends" with felix? that would be so awesome! thank you <3

“What are we?”

The way you said those words made Felix's heart ache. It was hardly a whisper, for your voice betrayed you and cracked as you stared down to the cold pavement.

This wasn't how either of you expected this night to go. It was supposed to be a fun time; a house party with loud music, lots of people and many drinks to intoxicate your system. You and him were supposed to have a blast and get rid of all the stress you had been feeling lately.

Instead, you found yourselves sitting down on the sidewalk after you had run out one second and he followed you the next one.

Felix sat in silence next to you, concernedly staring into your miserable expression as your eyes remained focused on the ground and wouldn't dare to look back at him — the only sign of you acknowledging his presence right next to you being how you hugged the jacket he had placed over your shoulders a minute ago.

He didn't exactly get what happened. He had been talking to a friend of his he ran into, and then he saw you rushedly crossing the front door. He ran after you before he could even process it, only to be even more confused when he found you sitting down on the sidewalk, looking as if your heart had just been broken.

Still, even with such a look on your face, the words that had so weakly abandoned your lips caught him completely off guard.

He didn't know if he had heard it right. He didn't know what you wanted him to answer, nor did he know what to answer without compromising your entire friendship, which is why he ended up uncomfortably shifting in his place and clearing his throat before his eyes fixed on the house across the road.

“What do you want us to be?” He replied, voice nearly as weak as yours.

“That's not fair” you recriminated.

“What's not fair?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm asking you what we are,” your eyes finally fixed on his, and he could see how hurt you actually were. “I want you to answer, not to leave me with the responsibility of choosing”.

“So I'm supposed to choose?” He asked; not mad, but troubled as hell. “I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N”.

“Just, whatever you want us to be”.

“I'm in the same place as you here” his voice trembled. “I don't think my feelings for you could be any stronger, but we're… you're my best friend. I love you so much, Y/N, I don't want us to… risk it all and then lose you, I don't know”.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. Neither of you had ever said it before, but you hadn't bothered to hide it either. Therefore, it didn't come out as much of a surprise when he confessed it like that.

Both of you were well aware of your mutual feelings, but neither of you dared to actually act up on them, in fear of it meaning to lose one another in the future. You were in love with each other dearly, but you treasured your friendship more.

Up until that night, at least, for things had just changed on your end.

“I love you, too” you confessed back, feeling him take a shaky breath. “And I used to think the same, that I didn't want to risk it all and then lose you”.

“Then?”

“Then…” you sighed, resting your palms on the pavement as you leaned back. “Then I saw the way Yumin looked at you, and how much you laughed with her and how happy you looked back then… and I realised that I was okay with not risking it all and being just friends til the end of times because it didn't cross my mind that at some point you'd be with someone else”.

“I'm not with Yumin,” he shut that idea of yours down immediately. “I just ran into her back there and we were catching up, we're not—”

“It doesn't matter,” you gave him another weak smile, as they seemed to be the only ones you had left. “You will fall for someone else at some point anyway, whether it's her or not, and I don't think I'll be able to just stand there and keep being your friend”.

“Y/N…”

“I really won't be able to stand it, Lix” your eyes watered. “The mere thought of you and her hurt like hell, what's it gonna be like when you actually do fall for someone else an—”

Your words were cut off by his mouth pressing lightly on yours. Just like that, the fate of your friendship had been settled.

It was the sweetest way you had ever been told to shut up, and you could only sit there and return the kiss after a couple of seconds, when you managed to snap out of it and realised you were in fact not dreaming.

It was delicate, soft, and didn't last long; only enough to stop you from talking nonsense and to let you know just how truly and deeply he felt for you.

“There isn't anyone else,” he whispered once he faintly pulled away. “There won't ever be someone else”.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead on his and letting his breathing mix up with yours as you took in his words.

You loved him. He loved you. No matter how scared you were of a future without him if things didn't end up working out, you were sure that being so deeply in love with each other and not being together hurt just as much.

It almost seemed stupid not to give in to your feelings now.

“I think I want us to be more than friends…” you murmured, finally opening your eyes to meet his beaming chocolate ones.

Felix smiled, lightly nodding his head as he leaned in once more. “Good,” he pecked your lips. “Because I don't think I can keep myself from kissing you anymore”.

[mytheoristavenue]

BES Mizu x Single Mother!Reader HCs

Summary: How a relationship with Mizu would work with a kid running around.

Warnings: fem!reader, fem/masc representations of your child, child is from an abusive marriage, mentions of violence, mentions of mariticide.

⭐ Surprisingly, it was actually Ringo who inducted you and your child into the party during a time when he was separated from Mizu, coming across you having trouble getting into a village without a man to validate your travel pass.

⭐ After leaving that village, he insisted you both come along with him and, by extension, Mizu on their journey. You hardly had anything to leave behind, so you thought you had nothing to lose.

⭐"Oh, absolutely not." Needless to say, Mizu was none too thrilled about now having to take on the burden of a frail woman and an even more fragile child. "Ringo, take them back to wherever you picked them up from, we don't take on stays."

⭐ They bickered about the subject for a while, until Mizu eventually relented, deciding she'd simply dump you both off at the next village.

⭐ To her surprise, you knew a few trades, and your child wasn't as useless as she anticipated. You both could cook fairly well, forage with mostly success, and even sew. More often than not, after an altercation, Mizu would find you staying up late around the campfire, mending someone's clothes (often her's).

⭐️ Your child is also incredibly well behaved, obeying nearly any order they're given, and almost never whiny, unless hungry or tired. Mizu was relieved to see she wouldn't be traveling with a spoiled brat like the kids she'd grown up with.

⭐️ Eventually, Mizu began to appreciate you both for your company and contributions, even missing you when not in your presence. She did try to deny this for as long as possible, though.

⭐️ At some point, this appreciation grew into affection and even care. Mizu would become agitated if someone upset you, or came too close. She even once called your child her own when they ran into trouble in a passed village.

⭐️ "Get your hands off my (son/daughter/child) or you'll pull back a stump."

⭐️ Your child came back from that trip glued to Mizu's side and hasn't let go since. The feeling is genuinely mutual.

⭐️ Mizu sometimes brings things back for you both when she goes into villages without you. For your child, it's usually a toy or something sweet. For you, it could be anything from a new fabric or article of clothing to a personal keepsake. She ones brought you back a gold hair stick with beads of jade, for example.

⭐ She will insist that you and the child both learn some kind of self-defense, claiming she can't always be there to protect you, but she secretly hopes to pass down her swordsmanship to your child, as well as her blade.

⭐ Your body is a marvel to her. She has such a masculine and (by her standards) unhospitable body, that seeing your plump curves and stretch marks thrills her. She thinks your body was made perfectly with childbirth in mind.

⭐ Mizu refers to you as her wife in front of strangers and becomes increadibly hostile if that notion is questioned, or if anything ill is said to or about you.

⭐ "I think you'll find steeping away from my wife in your best interest, lest you find yourself interested in becoming another notch in my blade."

⭐Your relationship never really became offical, it still came to be over time. She never officially ocnfessed or asked for you to be hers, she just kissed you one day after months of mutal pining and it became so.

⭐ She came to see you, and only you, after being presumed dead, and before shipping off to London. Very quickly, she kissed you, told you to tell (C/N) that she's otu there somewhere and will be back, and asked you to promise to marry her whens she returns.

⭐ You say yes, in return, making her to come back safely, remidnign her that she had a wife and child that need her.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Flowers (Phantom x GN! Reader) FLUFF

WARNINGS: Recreational smoking 🌿, doesn't go into detail, all fluff, Primo being a dad, Phantom being sweet, cute, and nice. Just a good old innocent mutual crush. Not proofread, sorry if there's any mistakes with keeping it GN, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything so I can correct it!

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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

"Good morning Papa." You greet Primo with a smile, carefully setting down the cup of tea you had brought him on his work bench.

"Good morning il mio Bambino." He responds softly, completely engrossed in his task of pruning one of his many bonsai trees. "When you get a moment my dear would you be able to do me a small favor?" You breathed out an amused sigh. You had been Primo's assistant for a while, enjoying the slow pace of working with the eldest Emeritus brother.

"Papa, you don't need to ask." You giggle, bringing a smile to the older man's face. "Anything you need I'll take care of, don't worry."

"You truly are too good to me." He shoots you a wink causing you to playfully roll your eyes. "There's some produce that needs harvesting in the greenhouse. I was hoping I could have your assistance collecting it all."

"Of course. Let me just make sure I don't have any paperwork to file first." You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze as you pass, leaving him to finish his pruning. You fell into the chair at your desk with a sigh, flipping your letter opener around in your hand to sort through the daily mail. You paused as something caught your eye. A single sunflower sat at the edge of your desk. You picked it up curiously, a smile finding its way to your lips as you spun the stem between your fingers. "Thank you for the flower Papa!" You call into his office. You hear the scraping of his chair against the wooden floor, Primo emerging in the doorway moments later.

You glance over your shoulder as you hear him chuckle. "That flower isn't from me, my dear." He raised an eyebrow at you. "Perhaps you've caught the attention of someone special, hm?" You couldn't stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks as you giggled.

"I doubt that," you state with a wistful tone as you continue to admire the flower in your hand, "I'm pretty plain compared to a lot of the other Siblings. This was probably supposed to be a gift for you if anything."

"I'd like you to keep it regardless." He gently pats the top of your head. "And you are not plain. You have a smile that could light up any room, a laugh so melodic it would rival Cirrus' piano. You're a kind, beautiful soul inside and out. Not to mention your Papa's favorite." He teases with a wink.

"Thank you Papa." He holds out his arm for you to take.

"Come il mio bambino, we have a lot of work to do." You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to prattle on about whatever came to his mind as you made your way to the greenhouse together. No matter the task, working with Primo always managed to put a smile on your face. Over your time as his assistant you had grown quite close to him, Primo had become somewhat of a father figure in your life. The two of you would sit and chat about everything while you worked; filling each other in on the gossip you heard around the Abbey, Primo telling you stories of when he was in his prime, both of you unwinding with a nice cup of tea at the end of the day in his cozy office. Today was no different. You were both droning on about how, somehow, Sister Imperator had been even more stern than usual lately.

"Maybe you should offer her a joint, it might help her stop being so uptight all the time." Primo chuckles at your statement.

"You might be right, I heard she used to be quite the stoner in her day." You both paused at the sound of the greenhouse door slowly creaking open. Primo began to stand, you motioned for him not to trouble himself.

"I'll go see who it is Papa, it's probably just one of the Siblings from the kitchen." You rise with a groan, meticulously pulling off your work gloves before stuffing them into your pocket. As you approached the entrance you were met with the sight of a Ghoul curiously looking over the plants. He froze the moment he picked up on your presence, like a child getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to be. His shoulders relaxed as he realized it was you who emerged from the greenery and not the eldest Emeritus. "Phantom?"

"Hey." He returns your greeting with a sharp smile, fangs glinting in the bright afternoon sun that glimmered through the glass roof. "I was sent to ask Primo about some of his tea." He nervously shifts his weight between his feet.

"Oh, he's right back here actually." You motioned for him to follow you. Phantom takes a couple long strides, allowing himself to walk by your side. "You help in the greenhouse too?" He asks genuinely. You nod, giving him a small smile.

"I work pretty much wherever Primo needs me." You chuckle softly. "If I'm being honest I'd rather be out here than at my desk, it gets awfully stuffy in there sometimes." You whisper to him, as if it was a secret just for the two of you. You found Primo still diligently harvesting the produce you had left him with. "Papa, Phantom needs to ask you about some tea."

"Papa," Phantom bows his head slightly in a polite greeting, "Copia sent me. He's having, uh… that problem again. He said you'd know what I meant." His eyes widened slightly as he waited for Primo to remember what particular ailment he was referring to.

"Right," Primo claps his hands together. "I'll go grab the senna." Once Primo is out of view Phantom's attention immediately shifts back to you.

"What are you two harvesting?" You smile at his curiosity, aside from Primo and the other Siblings that helped in the gardens no one ever seemed interested about the work you did in here.

"Berries mostly." He trails closely behind you as you return to the plant you had been previously seated in front of. "The raspberries came out wonderful this year, I don't think we've ever had this big of a crop." Phantom kneels next to you in the dirt, eyes darting between your hands as they worked and your face.

"Can I ask a silly question?" He inquires sheepishly.

"There are no silly questions." You give him a reassuring smile, gently bumping your shoulder against his.

"What do raspberries taste like?" You paused. You had gotten so used to seeing Phantom dart around the Abbey that you had forgotten he had only been summoned a little while ago. Something as simple and well enjoyed by you he had never experienced before.

"Would you like to try one?" He nods eagerly. You search through the bush, looking for the best looking berry you could find. You carefully held it between your fingers as you offered it to him. "Now, I'm going to warn you, they have seeds and they're kind of fuzzy." He squints at the fruit, bright violet eyes analyzing it closely. He takes the berry between his teeth, taking extra care to make sure his fangs didn't accidentally graze your fingers. He chewed it slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

"It's good… sweet." He smiles proudly at his small triumph. His gaze travels to the top of your head. "You, uh, have a leaf." He points to your hair. You attempt to brush it away on your own but you could tell by the expression he was giving you that it was still there. He cautiously reaches towards you, untangling it from your strands before discarding it on the ground. His eyes scan over your features, a smile coming to his lips as he brushes the disturbed hair back into place. "Beautiful." You let out a flustered giggle. You both jump as Primo speaks up.

"This should take care of Copia's problem." He holds out a jar of herbs to Phantom. Seeing both of your bashful states he pauses. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" He gives you a smug grin.

"No Papa, we were just talking." You nervously fidgeted with your fingers as you spoke.

"Thank you for the tea Papa. (Y/N), hopefully I'll see you soon." He flashes you another dazzling smile before making his leave. You couldn't stop your eyes from trailing after him as he left, turning back to Primo once he fully stepped out of sight. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the shit eating grin he wore 

"Don't look at me like that." You tried to hide your flustered state.

"I see we fancy ourselves a Quintessence Ghoul, do we?" He returns to the plant at your side with a laugh.

"We were just talking Papa." You reiterate again to try and get your point across.

"Just talking wouldn't cause the two of you to jump like that my dear. I've witnessed my fair share of crushes in my day, it's nothing to be ashamed of." He addresses the matter casually.

"Papa!" You exclaim through a giggle. 

"Fine, fine." He accepts defeat, holding up his hands in surrender. "But, when you do finally come to terms with the fact you're attracted to him, I'll be here to talk." He smiles patiently.

You laugh and shake your head, "I don't have a crush on Phantom, it's just…" you trailed off for a moment. You couldn't exactly put into words how you felt. You had always been pretty close with all of the Ghouls, so when the newest members were summoned you were one of the first to be introduced. When you had first met Phantom he was timid, still feeling somewhat awkward in his more humanoid form.

"Walk me through what you're thinking tesoro, maybe I can help you sort things out." You both kept busy as you talked, knowing if you actually allowed yourself to focus on the words spilling from your lips you would end up overthinking.

"He's very easy for me to talk to. It took me a while to form the friendships that I have, but with him it almost felt effortless. The first night I met him there was something about him that was just so… captivating. He was unlike any person or Ghoul I had ever met." You explain.

"You two definitely seemed to hit it off pretty quickly. Up until he met you I don't think I had ever really seen Phantom interact with any of the Siblings, he mostly kept to himself. Perhaps there are a few members of his pack he's close to, but compared to the rest of Copia's Ghouls he seems a bit reserved." Primo remarks.

"That's the thing Papa… he's not." You thought back to one of the times it had just been the two of you. "Phantom is loud, boisterous, confident." His infectious laugh echoed through your memories, bringing a smile to his face. It wasn't uncommon for Phantom to coincidentally stumble across you smoking alone in the garden, enjoying the twinkling starlight as the pungent smell of herb filled the air. Being with him only added to the dizzying head rush you had. Gazing into his eyes felt like you were running through a field of lavender, his fingers bumping against yours making your pulse thrum in your ears, entirely consumed by the image of him mere inches away from you. The two of you in your own world together as you resisted the urge to lean into him. You were snapped from your day dream as a thorn pricked your finger, you winced slightly, letting out an exasperated sigh as reality set in once more. "Him and I just get along really well, that's all." Primo just smiled knowingly. He had seen that far off look in your eyes many times before; pining Siblings stumbling into his confessional to pour their heart and soul out to him over a friend who they swore would never be anything more than just that. You didn't say much for the rest of the afternoon, the memory of Phantom playing repeatedly in your mind as you tried to convince yourself none of that mattered.

"I'll see you in the morning." Primo waves over his shoulder as the two of you part ways in the halls. You headed back to his office, having a few things to check on before fully retiring for the evening. You look behind you as you hear another set of footsteps join your own in the empty corridor. You were a bit surprised to see none other than the Ghoul occupying your every thought round the corner. You smile at the sight of him, pausing to let him catch up.

"Copia wanted me to bring Primo a thank you note for the tea." You found yourself shoving your hands deep in your pockets, the slight brush of his hand against yours sending a jolt through your body, causing you to have an urge you didn't dare give into.

"Primo decided to turn in a little early tonight…" you trail off, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "But, I am heading down to his office now. I wouldn't mind the company if you'd like to walk with me."

"I would love to." He smiles down at you. You blush, quickly darting your eyes down to your feet so hopefully he wouldn't catch your flustered expression. "You seem nervous." You remarked how that was a statement, not a question. You flashed him your most convincing smile, trying to shove your anxiety away so he wouldn't worry.

"It's just been a long day. I'm not really feeling fully… myself, I guess." You found yourself wanting to be honest with him the more you spoke. There was something about being with him that made you feel so undeniably safe that you couldn't lie about how you were feeling. The question flashed through your mind about whether or not Quintessence Ghouls possessed some type of mind control power to make you tell the truth. You noticed him glance over at you out of the corner of your eye. "I promise it's nothing to worry about." You slid into your chair as you arrived at Primo's office, Phantom perching himself on the edge of the desk at your side.

"Have you eaten?" He suddenly chimes. Your stomach decided to answer before you had a chance to, giving off a low angry growl over your hunger. "I'll take that as a no." Phantom chuckles. You return his laugh as you open some of the new letters that had appeared on your desk. You groaned as you recognized Sister Imperator's neat script.

"What now?" Phantom's brow furrowed at your distress. "Great, another meeting with Nihil, Papa's going to be thrilled." You drop your head into your desk with a groan. You felt Phantom's warm head slide across your back, rubbing soothing circles in between your shoulder blades. You reluctantly picked up the receiver of the old rotary phone, dialing the number for Primo's quarters as you propped your chin up in your hand. "Hi Papa." He sighed at the tone you greeted him with, already knowing what was in store for him. "We have a meeting with your Father." You held the receiver away from your ear as a loud string of Italian curses exploded out of it. "I'll be there in ten minutes." You inform him before hanging up. "I'm sorry to run off-"

"It's alright." He cuts you off, grimacing slightly as he realized he had done so. "Are you going to be in the garden tonight?"

You nodded slowly, "probably. I'm sure I'm going to need to unwind after this." You stand with a groan. You collect your belongings, smiling at Phantom as you turn to leave. In a moment of boldness, more than likely brought in by the aggravation of having to deal with Sister, you paused. "These meetings usually take about two hours. I'd really like to see you tonight if you have time."

"I'll be there." He responds eagerly. You try your best to hide your excited smile as you hurry off to meet Primo. The second you entered his quarters he noticed your change in attitude.

"Well, what do we have here? You seem awfully happy my dear." You met Primo's gaze in his reflection. His papal paint half done, still dressed in his gardening clothes. "Might I venture a guess this has something to do with a certain Ghoul?" You knew there was no lying to him in your current state.

"I may or may not be seeing Phantom after our meeting tonight." You spit out your statement hurriedly, knowing he was going to make a big deal about it.

"Hm," he hums, grinning at you, "sounds like a nice little date to unwind after a stressful day, no?" You haphazardly comb your fingers through your hair, trying your best to appear somewhat decent.

"It's not a date Papa, just two friends meeting up." He chuckles at your response.

"Tell me tomorrow if your feelings on that subject have changed." You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief for how sure he was of himself. You helped him shrug into his Papal robes before heading to the never ending meeting. Every second felt like an hour, your eyes practically glued to the clock as you waited for the meeting to come to a close. 

"You are dismissed." The second Nihil groaned out the words you bolted for the door, not missing Primo's amused expression on your way out. You headed straight for the garden, expertly winding your way to the spot where you and Phantom always managed to run into each other. A smile instantly spread across your features at the sight of him. He had set out a blanket in the pathway, a small spread of various foods set out for the two of you.

"What's all this?" You ask with a soft laugh as you approach him.

His eyes darted to the ground nervously, you noticed him swaying on his heels slightly as he spoke. "Well, I know you haven't eaten so I wanted to bring you some food. I didn't know what you liked so I asked Mountain and well…" He trails off, motioning to the spontaneous picnic. "I was thinking maybe you and I could have some dinner together?" 

"I would love to have dinner with you, Phantom." He beams at your response, excitement immediately overtaking his nerves as he motions for you to sit. You sat and talked with Phantom for hours, your body and mind feeling lighter the longer you spent with him. As time passed the two of you eventually cleared off the blanket, opting to lay side by side to gaze up at the stars, a lit joint passed between the two of you. You watched the smoke curl high into the air, the warmth of Phantom's body seeking into your shoulder.

"I really like spending time with you." He speaks up suddenly. You blush at his statement, feeling his fingers ghost over yours both of your hands intertwined carefully. You didn't need to respond, he knew you felt the same way. The two of you took turns pointing out different constellations you recognized until, eventually, you decided you should probably get back to your dorm. Phantom's fingers remained intertwined with yours as he stood, hoisting you from the ground after him. You stumble slightly, falling into his chest. You felt the quick, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under his palm. His free hand lands on your waist to steady you. Your eyes snapped up to his, they glowed a beautiful violet in the moonlight.

"Sorry." You giggle nervously. He chuckles, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

"No need to apologize, are you alright?" You nod, both of you blushing and mumbling out an apology as you realized you were still holding onto each other, taking a moment to separate. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence through the halls until you reached your dorm. You stood across from each other in front of your door, nervously swaying in your heels. "That was fun, maybe we can do that again sometime."

"I'd like that." Both of you searched for something, anything at all to say, to stay with each other just a few moments longer. But nothing came to mind. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He smiles at you, beginning to turn away. You reach out, catching his wrist in your hand. He looks back at you, a hopeful expression in his eyes. You stand on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight, Phantom." You take one final glance at him before you slip into your room. You fell into your bed with a sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "He's so handsome." You groan to your empty room. You let your arms fall out to the side, staring blankly up at your system as you remembered Primo's words from earlier. "I've witnessed my fair share of crushes in my day, it's nothing to be ashamed of my dear." You grimaced, that old man really could read you like an open book. You got ready for bed, dreading talking Primo tomorrow that he was right. But you needed advice. You had never taken the whole romance thing into consideration. Sure, you had dated a few people in the past, but none of those relationships really went past the honeymoon phase or initial hookup. You could already tell that if by some miracle Phantom did reciprocate your feelings this wouldn't be a simple fling. You woke with a start, getting into your overalls as you prepared for a long day weeding the flowerbeds. As you entered the garden you found Primo already waiting for me, a cup of tea waiting for you on the bench next to him.

"Good morning il mio bambino." He greets you with a smile. "These were left on your desk this morning." He picked up three white roses, all tied together with a purple ribbon.

"Was there any note?" He shook his head. You held the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent with a smile. "I'm going to put these in some water." You quickly run to the greenhouse, placing the blooms in a vase so you could take them home later before returning to Primo. You picked up the tea cup he had set out for you, sitting by his side and enjoying the stillness of the early morning air.

"So, how did last night go?" He prods.

You sigh, "it was perfect, I don't know what else to say about it." You chuckle.

"Are you still trying to keep up the façade that you're just friends?" He asks before taking a long sip of his tea.

"As much as I would like to, I don't think I can." You admit with a bashful laugh. "I've definitely got a bit of a crush on him." You spent a good portion of your morning catching Primo up on the events of the night prior.

He looks at you with an amused smile, "dare I say I think he might be feeling the same towards you my dear." He grins.

"I hope so, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hide this from him." Primo collects your cup from you as you finish your drink.

"Well you'll have plenty of time to think things over tesoro. Enjoy the flirting, romance is supposed to be fun, you should be basking in the glow of young love." You blush, shaking your head as you playfully roll your eyes. 

"I'm going to get started out here, I'll come check on you in a couple hours." He pays your head before heading to his office.

"Don't work too hard." He calls over his shoulder as he disappears from the garden, allowing you to get to work.

"Well what do we have here." You jump slightly as Mountain bounds up beside you, a basket of vegetables perched on his hip. 

"Hey Mount." Your hand claps into his as he helps you out of the dirt.

"Primo's got you on weeding duty today?" He asks, a bit confused. Weeding was usually a job saved for new Siblings, Primo believing in a hierarchy of sorts until they got settled in.

"I needed a task that would let me reflect on my feelings." You preach back to him in your best Papa impression. "He's had some suspicions that are proving to be correct."

"Everything alright?" He motions for you to walk with him.

"Yeah." You trail off for a moment. "If I tell you something, can you promise it'll stay between us?"

"Of course, you know you can always talk to me." He nudges you.

"So, there's been someone leaving flowers on my desk the past couple days. Which is super sweet, but I need to find out who it is. Recently I've… come to terms with the fact I have feelings for someone." You chose your words carefully, hesitant to give away who the object of your affection was despite the fact you knew you would end up telling him regardless. "Then on top of that I don't want to say anything to this other person because they might not feel the same."

"First off, I wouldn't worry about confessing your feelings. You're amazing, whoever it is would be so lucky to have earned your affection. Regardless of the answer I'm sure everything will work out for the best. And if you want to know who's getting you flowers, maybe hideout in the greenhouse, they're bound to show up sooner or later." You nodded, that wasn't a terrible plan. "Now, the real question is, who's your secret crush?" He asks in a teasing tone.

"Promise you won't say anything?" You felt ridiculous, you felt like you were in high school all over again. You were a grown adult acting like a teenage girl. Yet you couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the mere thought of him.

"You have my word." Mountain promises.

"It's Phantom." He pauses, looking down at you with the biggest smile. "What?"

"You have to tell him, the two of you would be such a great couple!" You attempt to stutter out a response, Mountain's bluntness getting you completely fluttered. "Seriously though, I think it would be worth a shot telling him. You never know, maybe he could've been your secret admirer the whole time." He chuckles before the two of you parted ways. You headed to Primo's office, already having gotten a good deal of weeding done today. You pushed through his office door with a groan.

"Good afternoon my dear." He greets you jovially despite not looking up from his paperwork. A pair of thin, wire framed reading glasses sat perched on the end of his nose.

"Afternoon Papa, do you need me to take care of anything?" You refill his glass of water in his desk.

"Actually there is, I have a stack of hymns that need to be returned to the music hall. It took me a while to decide which ones I wanted for mass this week." He chortles. You accepted the stack from him with a smile. "When you return we'll have so tea, I believe you're due for a break."

"Of course Papa, I'll be right back." You read through the stack of sheet music as you walk through the halls, humming the melodies presented before you. You kicked open the door to the music hall with your foot. Your ears were instantly met with an all too familiar tune. You glanced up to find Phantom perched at the edge of the stage, his usual black guitar resting comfortably over his thigh as he rehearsed by himself. You sit yourself in one of the chairs in the room, watching as his fingers effortlessly moved across the fret board. He jumped slightly when he noticed you were there.

"Now how did I end up with such a pretty audience." He flashes his fangs at you as a wide grin spreads across his features.

"No matter how many times I see you play you always amaze me. You're so talented." You compliment him, earning a bashful chuckle that made your heart flutter in your chest.

"Thank you." He stands, slowly striding over to you. "Now what brings you all the way down here." You held up the stack of papers.

"Primo needs these returned." Phantom takes the stack from you, knowing howuch of a pain organizing hymns tended to be.

"Want some help? I'm pretty familiar with how Cumulus has it set up in here." He offers.

"That would be great, I'd be here all night doing this by myself." You joke. Phantom clicks on the radio, some oldies station buzzing to life. He slings an arm over your shoulder, guiding you to the filing cabinet where the hymns were stored. Phantom seemed much more relaxed than normal today. He was consistently making jokes, the two of you idly chatting as you sorted everything away. "I love this song!" You exclaim, turning up the volume of the radio. You swayed around the room, humming along with the tune. Phantom chuckles at your excitement. He sets his remaining sheet music down, stepping closer to you so he could pull you towards him. You laugh, letting your fingers intertwine with his as the other slides over his shoulder. The two of you swayed along with the rhythm, Phantom giving your waist a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at you. He spun you around, causing you to giggle. "I didn't know you could dance."

"I wanted to learn to impress someone I like." He winks at you, both of you letting out bashful laughter.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need you for band practice." Sodo leans against the doorframe, eyes darting between the two of you. Phantom reluctantly released his hold on you, holding your hand a few moments longer than necessary before joining the other Ghoul.

"I'll see you soon." He promises.

"Bye Phantom." You smile at him, waving to Sodo as they both leave. You finish filing away the hymns, clicking off the radio before heading back to Primo's office. The rest of the day passed in a blur, the feeling of Phantom holding you close clouding your every thought. You had decided to take Mountain's advice of waiting in the greenhouse, wanting to tell your secret admirer that you already had your eye on someone else. So, once you had said goodnight to Primo, you slipped out into the gardens in hope of capturing the mysterious florist in the act. You hid in a relatively secluded corner, tucked away behind some lush bushes where you couldn't be seen. Luckily you didn't have to wait long for them to show up. You heard their soft humming approach where you were. The soft snips of pruning shears as they collected their flowers. Your eyebrows knitted together as you realized that this was a voice you recognized. You peeked out from your hiding place. You smiled softly at the sight before you, stepping out into the open, you cleared your throat.

Phantom's eyes shot up to you, he froze as he realized he had been caught. He looks nervously between you and the flowers he held in his hand. His mouth fell open but no words came out at first. When, finally, through all his nerves he actually takes a moment to look at you. Your whole face lit up with a smile, eyes searching his face as you waited for him to say anything. He couldn't believe how cute you looked as you nervously wrung your hands. He stands, offering a small bouquet of red chrysanthemums. "I'm assuming you've been getting my flowers." He chuckles. You carefully take hold of the bunch, gazing it down in awe before placing them off to the side. Your body moved purely on instinct, arms sliding around Phantom's waist as you pulled him into a hug. He tenses up for a moment before wrapping you tightly in his embrace.

"They've all been beautiful." You mumble against his chest. You slowly separated from each other, his gaze catching yours. He smiles warmly at you, those gorgeous, glowing purple eyes causing you to melt.

He gently takes your chin between his fingers. "I feel… strange whenever I'm around you." He admits, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Strange how?" You ask through a smile, laughing as he tugs you closer.

"Sweaty mostly." He jokes. "You make me nervous in a good way." He continues to ponder out loud. "My heart starts to beat really fast, and all I can think about is reaching out to hold you… what kissing you would be like." You blush at his admission.

"You're more than welcome to find out for yourself." Your voice shook as you spoke, a soft breathy laugh punctuating your statement. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, his eyes tracing over every detail of your face.

"I'm sorry if I'm not any good at this." He chuckles.

"Just follow my lead." You tease, your hands sliding up his chest and into his hair as he closes the distance between the two of you. His lips crashed into yours. A satisfied hum left your lips as you pushed your body into his. He held you tightly, as if he let you go you would disappear before his eyes. The kiss started out slow, you slowly guided him through the motions. You had found out that Phantom was a very quick learner. His pace gradually increased, the kiss growing more passionate by the second as he grew addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. You pulled back with a gasp, both of you panting softly. You didn't even have time to catch your breath before Phantom's lips were back on yours, earning a surprised squeak as he pulled you flush against him one more. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged.

"That was nice." He chuckles. He places another few short pecks to your lips causing you to laugh softly.

"Does this mean you won't be bringing me flowers anymore?" You laugh.

"Sweetheart, I'll bring you flowers everyday if you want me to." He says with a smile as he pulls you in for another passionate kiss.

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @mustluvecho @belnovacaine @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @herripinkle @iamsarahsaysso @fleagutz @jennmakesitweird @gothdaddyissues @i-fondued

[babyflorencee]

Only one bed

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

The anticipation for the premiere of my latest project, 'little women' had my nerves on edge as I sat in the airport, waiting for my Uber. Tomorrow's event promised excitement and anxiety in equal measure – after all, being one of the main characters in a show was a huge accomplishment for me.

As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a message from my driver notified me of his arrival. Stepping outside the airport, I was met by a cheerful man who swiftly took my suitcase and stowed it in the trunk before we set off on the short journey, engaging in light conversation along the way.

My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications from the group chat comprised of my fellow 'Little women' cast members. Amidst the chatter, the revelation that we had to share rooms due to a booking oversight surfaced. I sighed inwardly, hoping I wouldn't end up rooming with Timothée – a fellow actor whom I didn't like, at all.

"Miss, we're here," The driver said, getting out and walking around to the trunk to get my bags. Once I got out of the car, I heard someone shout, "Y/N!" looking up I saw Florence with her arms wide open sprinting over to me. I smiled at her, engulfing her in a bear hug. We stayed that way for a while until we heard someone calling our names. We turned around to see Saoirse behind us. "We're deciding who's rooming with who." She said, walking back to the hotel's lobby with Florence and I following close behind her.

***

"Oh fuck no!" I yelled, "I'm not going to be sharing a room with this mother fucker." I said pointing towards Timothée.

"Yeah, and I don't want to share a room with her either!" He retorted, crossing his arms and pouting, causing me to roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

After a while of arguing I eventually gave up, knowing I wouldn't win this argument.

I was to share a room with Timothée. Our mutual disdain for each other was palpable as we rode the elevator to the 19th floor.

"Going up," the elevator announced as it started moving.

I shot Timothée a scornful glare, my irritation palpable at the thought of sharing a room, especially with him – the last person I wanted as a roommate.

The elevator opened revealing the floor we would all be staying on for the next few days. We all went our separate ways just wanting to get to our rooms.

Timothée and I were walking down the halls when we saw our room number. Disgruntled and resigned to our fate, Timothée opened the door throwing his bags on the floor and going straight to the bathroom, grabbing a cup, and filling it with water, while I just stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Uh, Timothée," I called out to him.

"What n/n?" He said with attitude, walking over towards me and taking a sip from his water.

"Look!" I said, pointing to the spacious yet troubling sight – a solitary king-size bed occupying the center of the room.

Any other person from the cast and I would've been totally fine with it. Why out of all the people did it have to be with Timothée? "You sleep on the bed; I'll sleep on the floor,""He said, grabbing two of the pillows and one of the blankets.

Feeling guilt take over my body, I said, "Tim, it's fine; we could just share the bed; we could put a pillow to divide us."

He didn't reply; he just smiled, throwing the pillow and blanket back on the bed before leaving for the bathroom once again. Timothée emerged from the bathroom in casual blue-and-white pajamas, a departure from his usual appearance. He settled onto his side of the bed, slipping beneath the duvet and cuddling against his pillow. He actually looked kinda cute right now. As much as I hated to admit it, he was a really attractive guy, he just has a terrible personality.

I, too, got under the covers, snuggling up into my pillow before drifting off to sleep.

The night passed relatively quiet until the early hours of the morning, I awoke to sudden movement in the room. To my dismay, my eyes slowly opened to reveal Florence, Emma, and Saoirse standing around the bed, brandishing their phones like paparazzi. I shot up, waking Timothée up from my sudden movements. "What the hell are you guys doing in here?" I questioned.

"I think the real question is how you even got in here." Timothée said, with an annoyed expression.

"Irrelevant," Florence said as Saoirse shoved her phone in our faces.

"Look how cute you guys look!" She said, revealing a photo of Timothée and me spooning with his arm wrapped around me.

My face flushed red as I looked down trying to hide my face. After a while of them teasing us, they eventually left. "Hey, um sorry about that, I didn't know I did that in, my sleep," Timothée said, his head down in embarrassment.

I put my hand on top of his making him look at me. "It's fine, really," I said, smiling at him.

Driven by a surge of impulse, I closed the distance between us, our lips colliding in an unexpected union. Timothée responded, his touch gentle yet firm as he cradled my face in his hands. A smile crept onto my lips as I tangled my fingers in his curls, savoring the moment of intimacy. We both pulled away for air, going back for another kiss when we heard someone clearing their throat, jumping away from each other we saw Emma and Saoirse with big smiles on their face, "you owe me 20 bucks, pay up." Florence said, putting her hand out.

"Seriously how the fuck are you guys getting in here?!"

***

This is definitely not my best work ever, so I apologize for that.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

obsessed with thinking about how ted would react to seeing y/n in more revealing clothes for the first time; short shorts, a crop top, a bikini, maybe some lingerie that y/n picked out just for him 😁😁

AN: Thank you for being patient this request has been bumping around in my inbox for a while and it's a good one!!

Swimsuit for reference (a black-owned brand I highly recommend so affordable! I own 3 of their swimsuits lol)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Secret Relationship, Established Relationship, Pre-smut, Vacation, When you're trying to get it on but your boss walks in, Reader in a swimsuit, Ted losing it just a little Fic Masterlist

-

You and Ted had been surprisingly successful at keeping your relationship under wraps at work. Of course HR knew; as soon as you got hired as Rebecca's personal assistant and Ted volunteered to give you a tour of the pitch, you knew he'd be a problem. You saw more of his broad shoulders in his white polo than you saw any of Nelson Road. And you were too busy looking at him to notice him looking at you. Back upstairs, you tried to surreptitiously ask for the policy on dating colleagues, but it was obvious who you were interested in, and it only took a few days for both of you to get your shit together and make a move.

It was a mutual decision to keep the relationship quiet: you were still getting your bearings at work and Ted had enough going on as it was. But it was certainly nice to pop in on him on quiet days with a coffee or to sit out on the pitch while you sent emails and pretend like you didn't see Ted trying to impress you with tricks the boys had taught him. A few of the boys had asked if you were seeing anyone and Keeley and Rebecca had tried to set you up a few times, and you were so thankful for the friendships you were forming but it was getting harder to come up with creative ways to shut them down. You and Ted hadn't spoken about how long you would keep things under wraps but you were in no big rush, especially when you still got to come home to your boyfriend in a Kansas City t-shirt and sweatpants cooking carbonara and offering you a glass of wine.

"So are you excited for the teambuilding extravaganza," you smiled at Ted as you hopped up on the counter beside him watching him beat together eggs and cheese.

"Sure am! I'm already packed. Looking forward to 5 beautiful days in Majorca. Just hope the boys don't get into too much trouble out there."

"M-Majorca?"

Ted looked at you over his shoulder confused at your reaction but then he smirked, "Well yeah? Why is something wrong with Majorca?"

"Nothing's wrong with Majorca," you laughed. "Rebecca just asked me to go with her to Majorca but she didn't mention anything about the team..."

Ted was plating up pasta as you chuckled over what you thought was a coincidence and you followed him to the table. "I may have been a little earworm in the bosses' ear, suggested the boys might stay out of the news if the boss was nearby."

"Ted!" You exclaimed when you realized he looked somewhat sheepish. "What you're saying is you tricked my boss into going on vacation so you could hang out on a beach with your girlfriend?"

Conveniently, Ted had too much pasta in his mouth to respond beyond a small shrug and you laughed. You were only teasingly mad, because you were already planning the outfits you'd pack and the sneaking around the two of you'd get into. "Well I guess I better get packing too," you said and watched as Ted beamed.

-

You'd scheduled Rebecca a couple hours of massages and facials and she'd invited you to join her but you declined. You weren't lying when you told her you weren't big on massages, but you certainly did have ulterior motives. You slipped on a swimsuit you'd bought specifically with Ted in mind: a colorful abstract two pieces, thin straps crisscrossing your midsection. He'd sent you a selfie from the hotel beach so you knew exactly where he'd be. He'd captioned it vacation face because he hadn't shaved and his salt and pepper scruff was in full effect. You couldn't deny it did something to you to see it in a picture, you knew you'd lose it to see it in person.

Stepping out on the beach, a few of the players called out hellos and you waved but kept moving, knowing you were still technically at work and just popping out to see Ted. You found him in a beach chair next to Beard, who was snoozing with his latest paperback tented over his face. Ted on the other hand was looking right at you, the arms of his orange-tinted sunglasses glinting in the sun, his lips slightly parted. You smiled, but crossing the sand with his gaze heavy on you brought on a sudden wave of lust. You wanted to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling. You wanted to climb into his lap in that chair and feel his stubble, secret relationship be damned.

He took his sunglasses off as you approached, tucking them into the pocket of the short sleeve linen shirt he was wearing. He looked downright delectable on vacation and you couldn't wait to say just that. Meanwhile, he was looking at you like a precious piece of art. His eyes roamed every inch of your exposed skin from top to bottom and back again and a blush crept up his cheeks that you knew wasn't just from the sun

"Hiya Coach," you flirted and Ted bit his bottom lip, his hand reaching for you on instinct before he realized where he was.

"Hi Y/N, you look...," he glanced over at Beard but seemed content that the man was sleeping, "fucking fantastic." Your jaw dropped at the profanity that he never used in public but put to use frequently in the bedroom. The look in Ted's eyes was as erotic as you've ever seen and you wanted his hands on you immediately.

"I was going to ask if this seat was taken," you gestured to the chair on the other side of him, "but you're looking a little...hot." You grinned, leaning just a bit closer under the guise of getting under the umbrella. "Why don't you come inside with me for a bit, Coach?"

Ted moved like you had just told him there was a fire and you couldn't help but laugh at the way he kicked through the sand. You caught up and led him to the suite you shared with Rebecca, figuring you still had a solid hour and a half before her pampering was over, and Ted was sharing with Beard who was asleep at the moment but could come knocking any minute. You pulled Ted into your private room and his hands were on you instantly as the two of you tumbled onto the plush hotel bed.

"Now where did you get this little number," Ted whispered gruffly in your ear as he trailed his fingers along the straps just below your belly button.

"That's what you want to ask when you could be asking me to take it off," you sighed and Ted smiled devilishly.

"I dunno," Ted said, pulling the fabric of the bottoms to the side and sliding his finger where you were already embarrassingly slick, "Maybe I'm thinking of keeping them on." Ted placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his scruff sending little shockwaves to where his fingers were still exploring and you whimpered loudly.

And then you heard, "Y/N?"

The two of you had been so distracted you hadn't heard Rebecca come into the common area of the suite. You looked at Ted wide-eyed not sure if you should slide out from under him and answer or pretend you weren't there. Ted looked as tense as you felt, silently sliding your bottoms back in place. He looked around for somewhere to hide and sat up, in the process knocking a book off your nightstand with a sharp thud.

Undeterred and unaware, Rebecca knocked and then pushed the door open talking the whole time. "I ended up leaving the appointment early because I forgot I had a call with a member of the foundation about the gala, do you think you could order me—"

Rebecca finally looked up and noticed your... entanglement. You and Ted hadn't moved a muscle—you were on your back in a skimpy swimsuit and Ted was sitting next to you, one leg off the bed and shirt unbuttoned. There was absolutely no mistaking what Rebecca had just interrupted and you could see the little amused smile on her face.

"Oh, hello Coach Lasso." Ted gave her a small wave, tucking his shirt around himself like a robe. "Will you be joining us for lunch?"

You couldn't help it. You outright cackled at the ridiculousness of this moment. "I'm SO sorry, Rebecca, I'll—"

"No, no," she responded immediately, "I shouldn't have just barged in like that. I'll leave you two to—uh, well. I'll leave. But then I want all the details." Rebecca winked at you as she shut the door and you dissolved into giggles looking at Ted's mortified face.

"We're so lucky we have a cool boss," you whispered, sitting up to kiss Ted apologetically.

"You won't hear me disagreein', but boy was that embarrassing," Ted chuckled, "next time I'll just kick Beard out."

"Well, you might as well text him now because I'll be seeing you tonight."

[enterwittyjokehere]

hii, i’m soz idk ur request rules i couldn’t find them 😖. if any of this is out of boundaries lmk! I was wondering if I could request an angst/comfort-> smut on Gale?

Professor!Gale with his student (afab!reader) at wizard college yk. the student is super good with the work but they get depressed and miss class. Gale is concerned bc he adores all his students! he checks up on reader and helps them into a better headspace. one thing leads to another and reader opts to “return the favor” yk.

Gale is not Mystra in this!!! College professor! The groomed does not become the groomer! everything reader does is not because Gale has sum sort of power over them. they just like him! teacher crush fr!

anyways! sorry for ranting. if I could write for shit i’d do it but ur stories are SOOO good!

Sorry it took a bit to get out, life got in the way, I'm gonna be trying to update more frequently I have two more requests to push out and ab three drafts that I've started and haven't finished.

You didn't mention what gender or pronouns to use so I assumed afab, sorry if that's incorrect. I did have some fun with this one, the more I get into my Baldur's Gate playthrough the more I adore this man lol.

So enjoy~

After Class

Professor! Gale (of waterdeep) Dekarios x Afab! reader smut

⚠️Warnings⚠️

[College professor x student]

[Mutual pining]

[Dealing with issues via self isolation]

[Hurt > comfort]

[Alluding to masturbation]

[Teasing]

[No foreplay]

[Doggy]

[Breeding press]

[Mention of aftercare]

[18+ only]

“Deep breaths, you can do it.” Your professor, Gale Dekarios, stood behind you, holding your arm up.

-He had offered to help you practice a difficult spell you've been having trouble with. After class was over you had approached his desk and explained what spell you had been struggling with. 

Like the kind man that he was he accepted, telling you that while it was a troublesome spell you had enough mettle to learn it-

You said the incantation and with the added power of your professor you successfully casted the spell you had been having a bit of a hard time with. Your eyes widened as you beamed, looking up at your professor who had a sparkle in his eye.

“See, I told you, you could do it!” he smiled down at you, you stared into his eyes and your heart raced. You enjoyed the tenderness in the moment, before a small magickal ringing gained both of your attention. It sounded from Gale’s desk, he sighed, looked past you and turning the ringing off, “Sadly, that marks the end of our after class session.”

He put a couple scrolls he had laid across his desk into a small bag, you spoke in a small voice, “it's a little early, yeah?” 

“Umm yeah.. I have a few things I need to take care of.” Gale stumbled over the question, his eyes traced up your body and gave you a small smile, “But you did wonderful, like always, you'll get it yet.” 

A smile pulled at your lips, face heating from the remark, “I hope so.”

You had turned to grab your bag, being halted by Gale's voice, “Don't leave yet, I'll walk you out.” 

You nodded your bag falling onto your shoulder, the scrolls inside ruffled as you moved. Gale finished gathering his things, wrapping a small amulet around his neck before walking up to you.

He opened the door for you, smiling as you walked through. Walking through the hallway of the college, Gale seemed on edge but made small talk well enough to hide his obscured feelings.

“You've studied for that upcoming exam, yeah?” He asked, opening a larger set of doors. 

“Yes, sir. My arcane lock is the best in the class.” You cheered, smiling up at him.

For the first time all day Gale didn't have a smile on his face, usually his tied back hair was accompanied with a goofy smile and a kind demeanor. Your heart ached, you wanted to know what was going on, your fear for your professor sprouted little seeds of worry into your mind.

Both of you arrived at the waypoint, you went your separate ways. That was the last time Gale had seen you, when the next day arrived and you weren't in class, he had shook it off to you weren't feeling good. 

Day after day, until the day of the exam, you still had not shown face. Gale was worried and you being absent the day of the exam on the best spell in your arsenal only made his fear more present.

He had asked other students if they had heard from you, all only shook their heads, meaning you've basically disappeared without a trace. 

The professor's fear only grew as days went by, you had still not returned. Gale's fear trickled into full blown paranoia as the days went on, keeping him up at night and making him sick to where he couldn't keep food down. Gale had a soft spot for all of his students, even the naughty ones, yet you were one of his prized pupils. You were older than most of the rest of the class, eager to learn and listen, good at taking criticism, Gale was by no means a divination-heavy wizard and, yet even, he could see that you would go on to achieve great feats. 

Perhaps that was why he did it, Gale just needed to rationalize what part of him initiated the idea. Here he was fully in action, knocking on your door, away from the university, in his regular clothes. His face was deep and tired, stress had begun to sink into every fiber of him.

His knuckles knocked sharply against the dark wood of your door, a deep sigh released as he nervously waited for an answer. 

Almost perking up when he heard the soft, “Just a second.” that you had yelled in response. Scattered scuttering noises sounded from inside the apartment, Gale had no idea what you were doing, but hearing your voice brought a smile to his tired face.

When the door finally creaked open, your eyes widened in shock, “Professor-?” 

You looked behind him, seeing that he was alone, “What are you doing here?” 

Gale couldn't speak for a moment, he took the sight of you in. Before he frowned and began to explain, “You've been absent from your classes, at first I assumed you had fallen ill but after a few more absences and no hide nor hare of you, I became… Worried.”

A small smile shown as your face lit up, “Well, I'm fine, just going through a ‘rough patch’.” You turned slightly, welcoming your professor into your home.

He followed suit, walking in, “I really shouldn't stay long, I've quite a lot of work to do.”

“You should at least stay for a cup, I just put the kettle on.” You followed your professor deeper into your home.

Gale glanced around the small rooms, taking in all of your decorations, finally coming to a small couch. He sat on the edge of the couch, waiting as you sat in an armchair across from him.

“Is it pointless to ask for you to come back to class?” Gale asked, leaning forward.

“... No.” The word was released in a breath, “I just can't… not right now.” 

“Why not?” Gale asked, but slowly retracted leaning backwards, “I don't mean to pry, I just want to help, your education is important to me… You are important to me.”

“It's just hard. Right now, I have a lot going on.” You said, sighing.

Gale opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a stout whistle from the kettle, you lifted a hand, “Excuse me.”

Standing to your feet, you left Gale in the room by himself. Coming back with a small metal tray of fancy cups, setting it down on the table that separated the two of you. 

“Sugar is in here, please, take what you want.” You instructed, lifting the top off of a small ceramic container.

“Thank you.” Gale said, looking at you instead of the tea.

“We would really love to have you back in class, you can take the exam you missed and make up the work.” Gale started, ignorant to the way your heart sank as he muttered on, “with your natural talent, you'd have no issues getting back on track.”

“Yes. My Talent.. is why I'm not going back to wizard school, Professor Dekarios.” You paused from your explanations, taking a long sip of your tea, “I've recently felt like my whole world view has come crashing down around me, my whole life I've been naturally so good at spells and magick. I thought I had to be a wizard… I didn't know any other way…”

Gales eyes peered into your own, “It's not the magick you have a problem with… it's you, you think you may be…”

“A sorcerer… it's only a theory, however.”

“My class would still be open to you. I will help you grow however you see necessary and I'm sure a couple books and scrolls wouldn't hurt your newfound identity.” Gale's smug simper helped ease your pain.

Hells him just being there helped you feel immensely better, “if I was to come back to class and still go my own path, wouldn't it be like betraying the weave?”

“The weave is something we utilize, you cannot simply betray it and I'm sure the magick you hold will not mind what path you go down.” Gale said, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Thank you, professor.” You said, smiling at him. 

Gale stuck around and talked with you for a while, not all about magick, but he does have a large interest in the subject. Once the sky had turned dark purple and was littered with the freckles of stars, he thought it best to head to his own home. He chuckled as he walked out your door, turning to give you a small smile, his eyes beaming, “Thank you for having me… And thank you even more for sharing your troubles with me. The fact that I was able to help means more to me than you could ever comprehend.”

“Please, professor, I should be the one thanking you… I was really going through it…” you spoke, rubbing the back of your neck.

After your exchanged goodbye's Gale left, and once again your home was silent, you were alone. Only your thoughts to keep you company now, you thought back to how his hands fit around the small teacup he was holding. How comforting it felt when he grabbed your hand, how for once, his eyes were solely focused on you… You wished it could be like that more, how you craved him deep at night. 

But fantasies are usually just that, fantasy, fiction… fake. Tonight, however they were your comfort, you writhed beneath the covers imagining Gale giving into you. You wondered what pet names he would give you, what habits he would have when he loved you deeply. 

The next day you went back to school, sitting at your abandoned desk, your satchel fell from your shoulder and students began to whisper. Looking over at you and facing one another once again, pointing and speaking indistinctly. It was to be expected it didn't affect you in anyway… however, when Gale stepped up to his pedestal, looking straight at you and fighting to keep a smile down, then you felt something. 

The fires of the nine hells burned inside your stomach, a hand found its way to your cheek, to prop your head up and hide the reddening that quickly spread over your face. Gale went on with class like usual, teaching, talking, rambling, whatever way you chose to say it, it was always the same. You enjoyed it, being such a well learned man was attractive and the way the words rolled off his tongue like a liquid nectar made the experience much better.

Once class was over and you had tucked a couple of your scrolls into your satchel, Gale spoke up, “Ms. (Y/n)” 

You quickly turned to face him, locking eyes with him, “stay after class and we'll discuss your make ups, yeah?” 

You nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

“Wonderful.” He said, you stayed at your desk as students piled out, after the last one you stood up approaching his own desk.

“You're feeling better, I hope.” He spoke, his voice now softer, than when he was teaching.

You nodded, smiling, “Yeah, you helped me a lot, professor, I'm very thankful.”

“Please, as I stated before… I'm just glad I could help.” His large hand once again found your own, giving a reassuring squeeze. It was a kind gesture, but it was one that ignited that fire in you.

“I'll have to repay you, some day..” You spoke, smiling slightly at the thought that popped into your head.

“No, no, no need, You being here is repayment enough.” He spoke smiling, only to cock an eyebrow at the blush you now wore.

“Yes, but it would help me feel better about the whole situation…” 

Gale paused before speaking again, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I could always help you out… You know… to return the favor?” Your eyes flickering up to meet Gale's own. Your teeth latched onto your lip, pulling it into your mouth looking at his hand on your own. For a moment Gale's eyes widened before he pulled his hand away.

A myriad of  inappropriate thoughts flooded the professor’s mind, evident only by the red hue his face took on. A small smile played at his lips a sweet contrast to the simper that littered your own plush ones. Shaking his head, Gale's big brown eyes bore into you, “As much as I would absolutely adore that…” He paused, wincing at the words he was about to say, “ I cannot. If anyone found out I wo-” 

“No one has to know, Sir.” You interjected, keeping eye contact, your confident facade faltered for a moment. Beginning to move away from your teacher, you nodded slightly, “-but I understand, you do have more at stake here than I do..” 

Gale's eyes flickered through emotions at lightning speed, confusion seeped into his features followed by shock and finally he landed on regret, “W-Well. Let's not be hasty now..” 

His hand reached out to you again, as you raised an eyebrow, curiously, at your teacher, “Professor, what exactly are you getting at?” 

“If it's strictly a one time thing and no one would know then… I assume it would be okay to-” softly stumbling over his words Gale's eyes landed on your soft figure, biting his lip, praying that you understood his incessant ramblings.

You nodded slightly smiling brightly, “Just tell me when and where and I'm there, professor.”

“I have two more lectures today, you can meet me after and we can go to my tower, if you would like.” 

“Yes!” You said, loudly, your excitement causing gale to Shush you. Apologizing you still nodded, “Yes, I would love that, sir.”

The rest of your day dragged on as your mind found itself hoping for what was to come, when the time had arrived you met Gale outside of his room. Leaning against the wall, you hadn't even noticed him, you were reading a scroll and focusing on the movements it instructed. Only for gale to grab the parchment and gain your attention, “A bit of difficult Magick, right here… where'd you get this?” 

He was so close to you, leaned against the door frame, his body facing you as he glanced over the spell. Absentmindedly taking his lip between his teeth, his eyes pensively traced the scroll. Before he glanced back over at you, handing it back to you.

“A little shop near my house, just a goal I'd like to set for myself.” You explained as the two of you began your walk, tucking the parchment back into your satchel.

“I could always help you..” Gale offered.

“I would like to figure it out on my own, I think.” 

“That's understandable, when you get the hang of it you'll have to show me.”

“Of course, professor.”

“Please, for tonight, call me Gale.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, Gale.” A small and nervous laugh left with the name.

Once the two of you arrived at his door, ending the short commute, he flicked his hand and the door swung open. The candles lining the walls all flicked to life as you walked in, it was like a fancy library, bookshelves lined the walls and little trinkets sat on top of them. You were taking the scenery in as Gale dropped his bag, it fell to the ground with a thump.

“Before we begin, I can make some tea, if you would like.” He said, “and I have some biscuits.” 

You nodded, following him into his kitchen, you sat in a small chair as he paced around the kitchen collecting small items and preparing the water. He was speaking to you about magick, but not in his usual teacher way. Now he was more like a friend indulging you in his interests, “but surely to a student as talented as you, my experiences probably seem trivial.”

“Of Course not, professor.” You said, replying without even thinking.

“What was that?” He said, stepping closer, now towering over where you were seated.

“Sorry, Gale, but it doesn't seem trivial, not in the least..” You spoke, swallowing deeply.

A simper had crawled onto his face, smirking down at you, before the whining tea kettle called for him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you, “Just one second, love.” 

You nodded the word ‘yeah’ ghosting on your lips, but breathlessly, no words could escape you. It felt almost as if he enjoyed teasing you, between the moment with the scroll earlier now this, blissful agony one could call it.

Gale poured water into the two cups of tea, letting them steep. He walked back over to you. A finger ghosting on your chin, lifting your chin slightly, looking in your eyes, he smiled, “ready?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, “F-For?” 

“For tea…” He spoke, placing a kiss to your lips, “what else?” 

He smiled as he brought a small tray closer to you, two tea cups and a plate of pastries sat on the tray. 

You hastily drank your tea, meanwhile Gale sipped his, watching the ways you moved around in your seat. When he drank the rest of his drink he stood to his feet clearing the dishes away, “I'm going to clean this mess up, the bedroom is through the stairs and to the right, you can't miss it, get comfortable.”

“O-okay.” You said, scampering up the stairs, you walked into his bedroom, the bed in the center was huge, you laid down on it, the plush blankets were soft and cool. You began undressing and crawled under the blankets, laying down comfortably. 

After a few moments of you laying there, the door swung open, Gale was also undressed, he crawled over the bed, laying over the blankets on top of you. 

Placing small kisses on your lips and trailing them down your neck, “Get up, and on your knees.” He growled.

You did as he said, standing on your knees, he pushed you down onto your hands and knees, getting behind you he slowly stroked himself before pressing into you. You moaned painfully, inhaling sharply, Gale did not give you time to adjust. He was driven feral by how warm and wet you felt, just for him. You were all for him and Gale was loving every part of it, his pace increased with every moan you gave him. 

Roughly pushing into you, “Yes, take it just like that, such a good pupil.” 

You moaned out beneath him, unable to form words as he ravaged you, placing kisses down your back, his hands held onto your forearms. The two of you rocking against one another, it wasn't long before your legs began to shake. 

“Gale, please.”

Your quivering voice was clouded by your ecstacy as you constricted around Gale, who groaned as he continued to pump into you. Your legs gave out, falling onto the bed, Gale lowered too, laying on top of you, “Damn, already?” 

Gale didn't stop, he milked your orgasm, rocking into you, stopping only to pull out and pat you on the leg. His hand traced your thigh. Before he rolled you over, you helped him, and Gale moved to stand up, still panting he pulled you closer to him. 

You were now on your back, Gale leaned down over you, placing your thighs on his shoulders, he placed another soft kiss to your lips.

“Is this what you think about during class?” Gale asked, pressing back into you.

“S-sometimes…” you admitted, Gale began to rock into you, “Ah-! Gale.” 

He pressed your legs to your chest, his face buried in your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive area. The easy access to the sweet spot made your mouth water as Gale audibly moaned into the crevice of your neck.

His moans were loud and breathy, chasing his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and delayed. 

“Kiss me.” He demanded, you obliged, taking his bottom lip between your own. Kissing him as he rocked into you, “Yes, Gods, look at what you bloody do to me.” 

Finally, Gale thrusted, gripping the sheet beneath you tightly, and with a prolonged groan, he came. Chasing his orgasm, he sloppily rammed into you as your body milked him, clenching around as your orgasms met each other. Both of you gasping for air and mumbling swears beneath your breathless demeanor.

“You know, that was nice,” Gale said, pulling out and moving to lay beside you, “I appreciate it,”

Gale looked over at you, still panting, “I'll go run us a bath.” 

“Umm… sir,” you spoke up catching your professor's attention, “this was just a one time thing, right?”

Gale nodded, “yeah.” He mused as he walked into the bathroom.

It was most certainly not a one time thing.

[empressofmankind]

Hooked On You

[Crocodile x F!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 1.7k / 5 pages

(A/N) Featuring Crocodile and Shivs when they were still a thing. I don't know what force of nature even kept these two together. Actually, I do. Its shared and unresolved heinous trauma, and coping through mutual enabling with a side dish of codependency. They have so many problems. Gambling problems. Drinking problems. Marital problems. Who's gonna tell them sex isn't therapy? I am counting on you, Robin.

This is the same time frame as 'The House Always Wins', so ten years prior to the actual story and likely after hours at Rain Dinners. There's a joke in here somewhere about trouble in Paradise - literally, as that is where Arabaste is located. I haven't a clue in which larger fic I will stick this, but it is likely a long way off and it felt selfish not to share it.

Tag(s): Absolutely inappropriate use of that hook. Does it count as foreign object play? Probably. Its not a knife but I am going to say knife play because it is a stabbing weapon. I am sure the knife crowd is down. Thoroughly drunk sub, though he ain't sober either. We get a whiff of that daddy vibe of his, too. Obsessive and controlling behaviour? Definitely. Edging? The worst. Begging? Totally. Absolutely filthy language. I keep forgetting how foul-mouthed he is. Some mild degrading? Yes. What else? Are they still dressed? Yes. Married? For better and for much worse. Size difference? Still relevant. Power imbalance? Yes, she's so drunk. And so horny. He could turn her any which way rn.

My sincerest apologies for this title being the worst pun known to man, but the besties were asnooze and I had to make do.

🐊 🐊🐊

Hooked On You

“Ssh,” Crocodile said, his eyes hooded as he gazed down at Shivs, sprawled in his lap and across the couch. Her sparkly cocktail dress hitched up to her waist, showing off dark stockings against pale thighs. Who knew where she'd lost her heels? He stroked a red bang from her eye. It gazed up at him, large with need and drink. Again.

“Careful, honey,” he rumbled as his gaze lingered on her bare pussy. Watching her labia part against the smooth metal as he gingerly ran the tip of his hook between them. Felt her shudder, heard her quiet, plastered moan as her legs twitched towards each other. He didn't like it when she drank this much. “Keep those pretty thighs apart or you'll hurt yourself.”

He spread her open with two fingers, her inner folds slick and shimmering with her juices already. And touched the curved tip against the small, moist folds concealing her entrance. The breathy huff that drew from her fogged his thoughts with hazy lust, the ravenous beast within him stirring from its slumber. She was such a needy thing, and he wanted to see it. Wanted to see her eager little hole contract around the metal, grip at it with no hope of finding purchase. Watch her sweet juices run rivulets down its curve as she came for him, and only him.

She rolled her hips, and he stopped her promptly. Her protesting whine was as slurred as her speech had been. She squirmed, but he kept her put. His hook wasn’t sharp, per say, but it would not give in the way his cock would if she foolishly shoved her needy little cunt into it.

He waited till she stilled, fingertips brushing the edge of lace between stocking and thigh. When he dipped the cool tip between her moist inner folds, her legs twitched further apart for him. And the gluttonous creature inside Crocodile burred happily, devoured the pretty sight. He lightly, carefully, dragged the tip along her inner walls, searching for the sensitive spot just a little ways inside of her on memory alone.

A whimper, when he found it.

Her pitched moan as music to his ears when he stroked it again.

“Oh-ah!” 

Her hands shot down, weakly, drunkenly, scrabbling at the metal as she tried to tug him closer, feel more, feel everything, just the way she would if it were his fingers dug knuckle deep into her moist cunt. But it wasn’t.

“Shh,” Crocodile shushed against her red hair as he gathered her wrists away before she hurt herself with her blind need. She glanced up at him with such drunken lust that he almost forgot he was upset with her.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful,” he said, his hooded gaze on her parted lips, her panting breaths. And kissed her as he pressed the tip of his hook against that sweet, sensitive spot, gradually increasing pressure until she squirmed in his lap and moaned into their kiss.

“What is it?” he whispered against her bated breath as he paused and devoured the garbled, indecipherable plea that spilled from her lips. “You want me to fuck you with it? Is that what you want, doll?”

“Y-yes, p-plea-ah!”

Her precious mewls and the way she writhed in his hold with barely contained need spilled like gasoline onto the smouldering fire of his own desire.

“I can’t do that, honey,” he said as he gingerly guided it deeper, tracing the inward curve of her tight vagina, a passage he knew so well. “It’ll hurt you.”

She twisted in his lap and he had to pin her hips down, palm flat against her belly, to stop her rocking into his touch. She absolutely could hurt herself with her reckless, drunken actions.

“N-need. You-ah,” she whined in a tone that made him so hard. Made him want to toss her around, pull up that firm ass and fuck her sopping pussy full of cum like she deserved. A low, guttural groan clawed its way from his throat as he pressed her narrow hips down, pushed her butt unto his aching cock as he held her put. He wrestled the rapacious beast down, but only just. 

Soon, he promised himself.

“G-gim. Me. Ah-shole,” she complained. Her hands fisted into the cushion and the fabric of his pants, her knuckles bright and bruised.

“Ts-tsk. That is no way to talk to your husband.” He carefully withdrew his hook, her slick cunt making a delicious noise around the metal. “Don’t I take good care of you, sweetheart?”

“N-ngh-eed,” she whined as he slid the tip back into her with a smooth, languid push that followed the curve of her tight passage as far as it would go. “N-need you. T-to-oh-OH!”

“To what?” He mused against her hair as he stroked her lower belly, watched the muscles there clench and tremble at the lightest touch. The urge to bury his cock into her warm, snug hole clawed at his sanity like a living thing. He needed to have her. But he wanted to see. Wanted to watch her cramping pussy grasp at the metal as she came for him mewling his name. 

“You need a little help?” Crocodile said as he traced his fingers down to her pubes. “Is that it, doll?”

Shivs nodded, fingers digging into fabric and his thigh, barely managing a reply. “Y-yuh.”

He ran his fingertips in broad, lazy circles around her sensitive bud, never quite touching it. “You need a little help to make your sweet cunny make you feel so good?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why should I? You’ve been nothing but trouble.” He slid his middle finger down through her wet folds, teasing the hot, slick skin where his hook dug into her sensitive, pliable hole. “Tossing patrons, wrecking the floor, ransacking the bar. Why should I reward that kind of behaviour?”

“Am s-so,” she babbled as she arched her hips towards his touch. It felt good. Bad. Better than she’d ever thought it could.

“What was that, doll?”

“Am s-sor,” she wheezed as his thumb ghosted across her clit. “Ror-ry.”

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I s-said I am s-sorry!”

“Are you?”He teased her sensitive bud, delighted in the way she twitched, the way her toes curled. “Such sweetly false promises from my darling wife.”

“F-fuck you, C-croc-odile.”

Her fist came at his face half-heartedly, trembling from drink and desire. He caught it and pressed kisses against her bruised knuckles. “Yes, you will.”

When he reached down to rub his ring and middle finger across her clit, her fist latched onto his shirt, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric as she arched into his touch and hook, both, with the loveliest raw cry. He relished how much she wanted it.

He gathered her closer to him, keeping her hips locked against his own to stop them moving. He massaged her needy bud firmly, rubbing his fingers roughly against her the way he knew she craved. “Say my name again.”

“Hnn. Mmm. Croco-dile,” she whined drunkenly.

A deep grunt escaped him, his cock throbbing beneath her as he rubbed her aching bud between his fingers. He drew his hook back, lightly caressing the tip along her inner walls, searching. 

“Again.” 

“Croc-oh-dile!”

He could tell from her pitch he’d found it. The spot he knew would make her see stars.

“Once more?” he rumbled into her ear as she trembled against him, so ready to reward him. To show him what he wanted, needed. He watched her tether for a breathless moment, watched her slick pussy clench around his hook. Then nudged her across with a sudden, sharp tap into that sweet, sweet spot.

“Cro-oh. Ah! Yes!” she wailed, and he savoured the way his name broke as she lost it.  “P-plea-uh. Yess!” 

He struggled to keep her trashing in check as her orgasm ripped through her. Forcefully pinned down her narrow hips as they bucked against his firm grip. He kept the pressure on her little cum spot, rubbed her clit through her peak. His hungry gaze fixed on her sopping pussy, watching her tight hole spams around his hook. Her sweet cum gushing out, running down the slick metal and dripping from its curve.

She was perfect like this, and all his. 

And always would be.

“My darling wife is such a pretty slut, and ever so sweet to me,” he murmured into her ear as she calmed down, her panting breath slowing, steadying. The sweet trembles racking her body subsiding. “Able to cum on anything I put in her needy little hole. Even my hook.”

He drank in her blissful, fucked-out look as she gazed up at him through heavy lashes, the caress of too much alcohol lingering behind her flushed cheeks and bright eye. Her lips were parted, an edge of teeth visible. 

He withdrew his hook, and groaned at her meek whine and the way she reached for it. She was such a needy little thing. The ever-hungry creature within him stirred with a satisfied burr, never quite done feasting on her, devouring her every word, action, noise, sin. 

“You know what I am going to do after this?” 

He brushed her fussy touch from his hook, caught her fingers in his own as he rested the slick metal against her flat belly. The ravenous beast roared, no longer tolerating being ignored.

“I am going to wreck your pretty cunt and stuff it full of cum until you come apart beneath me,” he said as he pressed a kiss against her bruised knuckles, catching her bright, greedy gaze. “You need that, don’t you, honey?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

🐊 🐊🐊

Horny hell seat reservations - @ruledbyproblematique @littlemountainwolf @fanaticsnail @tiredemomama

[archangeldyke-all]

Hi baby, Im super like not myself lately and my writing has been suffering for it (I haven't touched my laptop since last week 🫠). Just wanted to pop in, say hi, I love you and I'm gonna be lurking and rereading fics on your page tonight for my own personal comfort. Also whenever you feel like it, I've been thinking about black vamp reader and sev going out for their first hunt together, that's all 🥺🥲 Kisses if you want them ladybug 😚

marsssss a million kisses for you baby i'm sorry you're in a funk <3. i love you so so so much i hope you feel better soon! also, yes, lets do it!

disclaimer!! i'm white-- so i'll try to make it an obviously black reader-- but if i make any mistakes just lmk and i'll change it asap!!

men and minors dni

sevika's nervous-- you can tell.

she hasn't let go of your hand since you arrived, and each time someone walks beside your hiding spot-- a dark little alcove in the alley behind a bar-- she gasps.

you squeeze her hand. "relax." you whisper. she huffs.

"can't we just eat more rats for a while?" she asks. you giggle.

"do you want to eat more rats?" you ask. she hums.

it took her a while to adjust to her new life as a vampire. she loves flying-- and even now, a month in to her transformation, she still giggles every time her feet leave the floor.

she's got beef with your little bat friend now that she can understand it-- and the feeling seems to be mutual, since he's always lunging at sevika and making her scream when he comes to visit you. they're both jealous-- possessive of you and your attention. you think it's cute.

when it comes to feeding though, sevika's still a little hesitant.

it's not the killing that puts her off-- hell, she does that anyways.

it's just that sevika became familiar with feeding with you, her acting as the blood bag. she thinks of it as something inherently intimate-- something that's meant to bond two people, something vulnerable.

and while it can be that, most of the time it's much more brutal and much less sexy-- and sevika's had some trouble wrapping her head around it.

but you've gotten tired of draining rats with her-- you miss the full bodied taste of human blood. and she's not really a fan either-- the fur tickles her too much for it to be enjoyable.

which leads you to now.

"what about him?" sevika asks as a drunk man stumbles by your hiding spot. you snort.

"he's not drunk enough." you say. sevika huffs.

"how long do we have to wait?" she whines, tugging your hand in hers. you giggle and press a kiss to her cheek. she relaxes at the press of your lips on her skin.

"as long as it takes, babe." you say. she sighs.

"you didn't tell me being a vampire would be so boring." she groans. you giggle.

"i did, actually." you say. sevika pouts. "c'mon, you don't have any enemies you wanna drain?" you ask. sevika huffs.

"i already told you! i don't have enemies-- at least not for long. i took care of 'em all already." she says, pouting again. you snort.

"so we're stuck here until you make a new one or someone comes stumbling by wasted." you say. she sighs. you kiss her to placate her again, and she hums against your lips. "it's not all bad." you remind her. "i never had a companion with me on my hunts-- this is fun."

"oh, have i been demoted to companion now?" she asks, glaring at you. you giggle.

"well, i don't see a ring on my finger." you say, teasingly wagging your fingers in front of sevika's face. she growls.

"you proposed to me! i don't need to get you a ring!" she cries. you laugh, reaching forward to fiddle with the ring that you pushed on her finger a month ago.

"i'm just saying-- until we say our 'i do's, legally, you're just my roommate."

"you're the one who won't let me take you to the courthouse--"

"they're up top and only open in the daytime! we can't get burnt on our wedding day sev!"

she grumbles, and you lean forward to kiss her again. she sighs against your mouth, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you against her body. you run your hands through her hair and tug, pulling a moan out of her.

just when she starts shoving a thigh between your legs, something down the alleyway clatters. you both look up and watch as a burly man doubles over and vomits behind a dumpster.

"hmm." you say, licking your lips as you examine the man. he's big enough for you to both get a decent drink from him, and drunk enough that he won't remember it in the morning. sevika nudges you.

"him?" she asks. you shrug.

"dunno. it's your first hunt, you tell me." you say.

you watch as sevika's eyes flit up and down the barfing man, her pupils widening and her tongue coming out to lick her lips in hunger.

"he... he's pretty drunk." she says. you nod.

"blacked out, probably." you say. she bites her lip. "can you smell him?" you ask. sevika sniffs the air, and her stomach rumbles. you giggle.

"f-fuck." she whispers.

"better than rats, right?"

"way better." she whispers.

"so?"

"i think it's him." she says, nodding at you. you smile.

"you wanna take the lead or just watch on your first hunt?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"you go first-- i wanna see you in action." she says. you smile, kiss her cheek, then duck out of the alcove.

instinct takes over pretty quick. in a flash, you're in the air and flying over toward the man. you wait for the perfect moment, when he stands back up from vomiting, and then move in a flash.

your hand clamps over his mouth and your limbs wrap around his torso as you sink your teeth into his thoat from behind.

there's a muffled gasp and then a bit of a fight, but in a few seconds, he goes limp and falls to the pavement below him. you take a few big gulps from his artery, then pull off his neck and look over to where your fiance is watching you from her hiding spot.

"c'mere!" you call. she slowly walks over.

"'s a lot more scary when you're not doing it to me." she says. you chuckle.

"yeah, well, i wasn't as gentle and loving with him as i am with you." you say as sevika kneels on the other side of the man between you. you gesture at him. "go ahead." you encourage her.

sevika licks her lips as she looks down at the man beneath her, and then she leans down, lines her teeth up to the puncture wounds you'd left in his throat, and starts drinking.

"fuck." you whisper. she hums and looks up at you from where she's drinking, groaning at the taste. "that's so hot." you say. sevika laughs through her nose.

the blood in your body is filling you with strength and magic, and something warm starts bubbling in your stomach as you watch sevika drink from the holes you'd made in your victims neck.

it's hypnotizing. her throat bobs with each sip, there's a sweet furrow in her brow, and the little hums and grunts she lets out with each sip are incredibly tantalizing.

she's still new to it, and she's incredibly messy as she drinks. blood's covering her chin and cheeks, dripping slowly down her throat, and when she pulls away from him with a gasp, you nearly cum in your pants at the sight of your lover grinning and satisfied and covered in blood.

you launch yourself over the man between the two of you and tackle sevika to the pavement. she grunts as she lands, but quickly starts to laugh as you start licking up the blood covering her skin and grinding down against her thighs.

"fuck." you grunt. "you're so fucking hot." you whine.

"shit, i feel so..."

"warm?"

"yeah." she says, giggling-- a little high from the euphoria of finally drinking human blood. you grin then press your lips against hers. after a minute of making out, sevika pulls away with a gasp. "i want you." she says. you moan.

"you can have me."

sevika pushes you off of her then drags the two of you back into your hiding spot, quickly pushing both of your shirts under your armpits and pulling your pants down to your knees.

it's clumsy and messy and sticky with blood, but neither of you care as you grope and lick and kiss one another anywhere you can reach.

you're both high on blood, giggling and euphoric as you clumsily collide. it's a blur of brown skin on brown skin-- blood on fingertips and spit on lips as you grind and grope each other mindlessly.

you cum together, gasping against each other's mouths and shivering in each other's hands, and when you catch your breath, the first thing you say is "oh, i fucking love you."

sevika huffs and smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"i love you too." she says, laughing. "i'm glad we still fuck after eating-- i was sad to let that go when you turned me." she says. you giggle.

"not regretting it after your first real feed?" you ask, tugging your pants back up over your ass and helping sevika button her own. she scoffs.

"hell no-- that was amazing. does it always taste that good?" she asks. you smirk and nod.

"of course, he's got nothing on your blood-- but i think that was more of a love thing than a taste thing." you say. sevika giggles.

"fuck off-- i taste amazing."

you grin. "yeah, you do." you say, shoving your thigh against her cunt. she gasps, then giggles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[zoros-bandana]

A Drunken Proclaim

(SFW)

Slight fluff/slight angst

Warning: mentions of drinking, being drunk, drunk confession

Summary: once again drunk at another straw hat party you found yourself looking for the missing surgeon, unexpectedly leading to an unofficial and abrupt confession of his feelings.

Word Count: 1,300

(A/n: I don’t have my notes with me for my other requests I’m working on as I’m on holidays but I really am just craving writing some Law stuff right now and will get back to them next week)

Pulling yourself out of the uproar, you found a clearing through the legs of Franky; a band of dance moves sweeping you into the middle of the floor. Taking a quick sip from your bottle of alcohol, you moved further out, your mind spinning from the overbearing and shrill music. It hadn't taken much convincing for Luffy to throw another party, his excuses becoming more bleak for reasons to celebrate.

The crew, however, was happy to take some time out and forget their troubles, even the likes of the usual quiet Zoro and Robin taking their turn on the dance floor. It was admittedly a wonderful night, as these things always were. However, there was a part of you that felt off, missing a familiar face as Luffy twirled you around the floor; watching him closely not to hurt you.

Sweeping over the crowd you found Bepo, losing any remaining worry as he swayed and fanned himself down; lost in the rhythm of the song. As usual, his captain was nowhere to be found, creating the perfect mission to escape for a few moments; wishing to retrieve the surgeon in a hope he might dance with you.

You stumbled into the infirmary, tightly grasping the same bottle you had carried around for the last few hours; more comfort than beverage. The room was dimly lit, a few stray candles surrounding the surgeon as he leaned forward, lost in the stacks of papers under his nose. He was focused, as usual, spending most of him time researching than he did bonding with the crew. You guess that was how he got the title of surgeon.

"You're still in here?"

Law looked up towards you, his face neutral as usual, giving no rise into how he was feeling in that moment; his grey eyes swiftly taking you in. He sighed, that usual annoyed sigh, as if he wasn't in the mood to be disturbed tonight. Not by somebody who was drunk, anyway.

"How much have you had, Y/n?"

"I don't know" you admitted, tripping into the room. You hummed as you steadied yourself, laughing at your words before you even said them. "I'm not a mathematician"

"You're not a comedian either" Law admitted bluntly, sitting further upright. His chair swivelled around to face you as you stumbled to his desk, leaning on it for support as you reached him. Avoiding his gaze you looked blindly at the papers in his desk, blurred together to form some kind of foreign language. Although all medical words felt like that to you.

"You didn't answer my question"

His voice was softer this time, more understanding.

"I'm not sure" you shrugged, trying to give him a sober answer. Anything to get him to stop looking at you like that. Like he was disappointed. "I remember drinking when the sun was still up, and then Zoro handed me another bottle; which turned into a few more... I think there may have been some wine from Nami mixed in there too somewhere..."

"The swordsman..." he trailed off, "of course".

You met his face then, realising there was a hint of hurt as he spoke, not noticing the break before. It was only subtle, and maybe if the room wasn't so quiet you wouldn't have noticed. But it was there.

Noting you were looking at him, he focused his gaze, studying you for a moment. It was if there was something mutual, something warm and passionate, forcing you to truely look at one another; more than usual. His eyes were tired, as they usually were, but held an edge of desperation as if he was speaking to you. He wanted to have you closer.

Setting down the bottle on the desk slowly, you stepped towards him, letting his arm come out to guide you. His hand easily fell to your waist, cupping gently over the fabric of your shirt, holding you like glass. As you straddled up onto him, his other hand moved to cup under you, helping to secure you into his lap. Your arms looped loosely around his neck, holding you close as you took in his face; lit by the flickers of soft gold and orange from the fickle flames.

Law gently moved your hair from your neck, sweeping it back with the back of his hand. He continued to hold your gaze, locking you in a trance to let him control the room; his sober stance holding much more composure than your own.

Moving slowly, he tilted his head down to your neck, gently breathing against your skin. His breath was warm, inviting, your body subconsciously moving away to expose more of your skin for him. Needing this as much as he did.

Law's lips met against your skin, warm and slow, taking him time in leaving soft puckers over your neck. He moved over the same spots, leaving an invisible mark of lust, building up the courage to confess. There was a lump in his throat the burned when he saw you, wanting nothing more than to take you from everyone; knowing he needed you as much as your crew.

But it was different for him, built solely on his own selfish love for you. He didn't need you for your skill or your wit like your friends did. He didn't need you to help him become king of the pirates or to achieve his own dreams.

He needed you because he wanted you.

He wanted you by his side, to bask in your company, your safe and loving aura. He needed to have you, the greatest love he had ever known, to be with him and love him just as deeply as he did you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/n" Law mumbled, dragging his lips over your voice box. He shut his eyes, gulping nervously, carefully grasping at your clothes to ground himself. "You are easily the best part of this experience and I could wait my whole life for you to want to be with me; but I hope I don't have to"

"Say you'll be mine, forever"

A heavy silence filled the room, lost in what to say next. The mix of sake was taking its toll on you, weighing you down with the way Law spoke, making it seem almost impossible to speak back. But you had to say something. These words weren’t just a lost dream you slept upon, curling deeper into your bed to keep yourself here. These words were real.

"Drunk or sober?"

"Both" he smirked, pulling away to look at you again. "Definitely both"

"I guess I could get used to being called Mrs Trafalgar Law"

"Glad to hear it"

You wished to close the gap - you both did - filling the room with lewd and desperate sounds as you kissed one another. How you wished to finally taste each other, so lovingly, so private, losing your senses in a whirlwind of unforgivable madness. But you couldn’t; not like this. As tempting as his pout looked rested on that crocked smirk you couldn’t advance like this. Not while you were impaired.

"Ya know forever is a really long time, right?" You tilted your head to the side, curling your brow, hoping to change the subject.

"Yeah" he admitted, carefully pulling you closer. His arms held you against him, resting his head on your shoulder. A deep inhale crushed him to a saddened smile, taking in your scent, feeling different, more free with his emotions now.

The lump was no longer there, and even if you woke up tomorrow, sober and forgetful of this night, he would remember. He would remember your voice, how you smiled, how you laughed at your own stupid joke. He would know that even for tonight, you were his, and he would hang onto that for as long as he could.

"That was the point; to be with you for as long as I can be"

[lighthouseshepard]

ahhh been too afraid to pm you but hi from a silent mutual!!

writing prompt: john and yorick chat while arthur sleeps :))

HI HELLO!! im also always too afraid to pm everyone! thank you so much for sending this in and so sorry it took me a while! been a very busy few days (:

"Is he fully asleep, my king?"

John groans in annoyance among the relative darkness he'd been sulking within. Ever since Arthur's eyes shut once he fell into an exhausted, heavy slumber nearly thirty minutes prior, he'd been reluctant to try and exercise what little muscle control he possessed to squint them open again. Manipulating those muscles usually woke him regardless of how careful he was, leaving him with a splitting headache neither of them could explain. And at the moment, John couldn't bring himself to disturb the hard won sleep, as fitful as it was.

Yes, he's asleep, he hisses impatiently. Yorick's voice came from somewhere to their left, still attached by the chain threaded around their waist. Arthur's right arm twitches, fingers scrabbling for some imaginary thing, before falling still.

"Excellent," says the skull. "Our master requires much rest after that entire ordeal."

Our master? John snorts. The subtle stirrings of a cool night's breeze brush against the skin of his left hand, welcome after the wet, stale air of the cave. He's your master, not mine. 

"He is master to both of us!" Yorick exclaims, far too loudly. "Just as you are a king to him and myself. An inseparable pair, the dies irae, intertwined inexorably, dominion over one another and all else."

Jesus fucking Christ, John mutters, wishing he could wince. What does that even mean?

“Exactly as I said. Would you like me to repeat it?”

No, no. Can you quiet down? You're going to wake him.

“Certainly, my king.” His reply drops to a tone only slightly less loud than before. 

 And stop calling me that, he adds irritably. I'm not a king.

"You were once a king," Yorick states matter of fact, jaw clacking solidly as he speaks, a peculiarly troubling imitation of human life. "I do not see the issue with proclaiming this."

Once, he emphasizes. I'm not... I'm not that being any longer. I don't claim to be any kind of ruler anymore.

"Fair enough! What shall I call you if not a ruler, then?" 

John, he grinds out, the last droplet of water among the barren desert of his patience threatening to dissolve. John is fine.

"Alright," Yorick says, sounding pleased. "King John, how may I serve you?"

John heaves a haggard sigh. Unbelievable, he groans, and attempts to turn his attention away for a brief, blissful second to collect what surely remained of his sanity.

The thing that called itself vanguard spoke incessantly. Within the caves, climbing out into rain-damp earth and sky, walking to find shelter for nightfall in the hopes of catching at least a few hours sleep - it had not stopped talking the entire way. John had half a mind to untangle Yorick from Arthur's belt when he wasn't paying attention and throw him as far as his eyes could see. He'd never liked the thought of the vanguard anyway, had never wanted Arthur to take the head, keep the tooth. Something about a creature which existed simultaneously in the Dreamlands, the Dark World and their own reality never sat well with him. 

A hypocritical perspective, possibly, considering. Yet that similarity alone made him nervous, straddling a razor's cautious edge. He knew what he was capable of. Yorick remained a mystery.

They'd found an oak tree, its canopy stretching out far enough to provide cover from the last stray rain clouds rolling by, so long as Arthur kept curled at its trunk. He had fallen under almost immediately. One or two words exchanged between him and that damned skull, and he was out, John's name half formed on his lips in what sounded like the start of a question. It would likely be forgotten upon waking. Already Yorick was taking time meant for him.

Regardless, John knew him to be valuable, an asset they couldn't afford to get rid of. Certainly not now, with nothing to their names except the clothes Arthur wore and the bag he carried, no money, no food. If Yorick could be a wealth of information like he claimed, they'd have to put up with him a while longer. 

And then John could toss him into a lake.

In the stretch of thankful silence, Yorick apparently finally listening to his demands, he reaches over and inspects what remained of the wound. Dried blood coated Arthur's wrinkled shirt close to his heart, stiffening the fabric. Laying his palm flat and hesitantly across his chest, John takes solace in the flighty pulse tangibly felt there. Not too long ago there was none at all.

Arthur murmurs something wordless under his touch. John retracts his hand quickly, mildly guilty at having potentially disturbed him.

“You dislike when he sleeps,” Yorick says. Despite his position by Arthur's hip, rolled sideways where he'd come to rest as they laid down on dry grass, his voice still seemed to come from somewhere else around them. 

John waits a second for more to follow. Nothing comes - it's a statement, not an inquiry.

I don't dislike him sleeping, he huffs. He has to rest, obviously.

“Yet it troubles you regardless? The absence of him.”

I don't, John sputters out, struggling to keep his voice level. I'm not… lonely if that's what you're suggesting. Will you just shut up already? We're both going to wake him up at this rate.

“Our master is blind to the world in multiple senses of the word,” says Yorick. “Deep within a dream. He will not wake for some time.”

How do you know he's dreaming? he asks, perplexed. You can't… see into his mind, or-

“I know a great many things.” Another beat of silence, decorated by the cricket song in the surrounding brush shielding them from view. Again John waits for an explanation, growling agitatedly when none is forthcoming.

Such as? he prompts. What is he dreaming about? 

“I do not know the specifics,” clacks Yorick. “Yet I'm aware of the turmoil of his thoughts. There is a string of piano keys tied like wire around his ankles, a bathtub overflowing, a yellow sun-”

Okay, I get the specifics! John mutters. So a nightmare, clearly.

“Precisely! Excellent conclusion, King John.”

He was starting to immediately regret accidentally adding John to that title. Is there a way we can help him, then?

As if on cue, subconsciously aware he was being discussed, Arthur lets out a low, pained breath of air. Instinctively John’s hand jolts to attention, fingers delicately skimming the wound like he would find answers or assistance there. His legs were twitching, again his arm reaching and then recoiling from something John couldn’t see or understand. 

Nightmares were the only times he felt useful, whenever Arthur slept. Lingering in the corners of his mind, stuck between drifting into his own thoughts and keeping an active listen for anything that might hurt them while he was out - it wore him down in ways be couldn't explain. Yorick was right, even though John would rather revisit the Dark World than admit it. He did hate when Arthur had to sleep for the emptiness it left him with. Being able to wake him from a bad dream as soon as he caught the signs left him aware of a strange, disjointed sense of selfish pleasure. Even if it came at the risk of Arthur’s unhappiness, helping him out of a nightmare was one thing he could do consistently right.

“He will not wake until the nightmare is complete,” Yorick says nonchalantly. “He is too deep.”

Which will take how long?

“I know a great many things,” he says for the second time. “Yet this, I do not.”

Another whimper, softer than the last. John taps the side of his head, tugs at his shirt collar, goes so far as to flick his nose multiple times in a row, as hard as he could manage. Nothing caused him to stir. He could slap him, sure, but in this state he might break apart altogether.

Great. John heaves a sigh. So we just have to listen to this, then? Until he’s, what, done dreaming?

“That is correct. We could always pass the time discussing, my King.”

Discussing what? He snorts. The maggots we just crawled through? No thanks.

“Or,” Yorick adds, “you could always return your hand to his chest.”

What? 

“Your hand,” he repeats, jaw clicking knowingly. “It is the one thing which calms the dreams. I’ve witnessed it many times before.”

You didn’t even have eyes, then, John says sardonically. What could you possibly have witnessed?

“I have no physical eyes now, but I can see you and the master. I was aware then, and in a way, I am aware now.”

In the shrouding blackness of Arthur’s slumber, John imagines the two points of white light where the prince’s eyes once rested staring sideways up at them, awash in tendrils of green smoke. Was this how Arthur felt all the time, kept in the dark, left to wonder how everyone was looking at him? 

Carefully, he puts his hand back in the center of Arthur’s chest. Fingers splay out, one wooden pinky, the rest a thin collection of bruises and scars and broken, chipped nails. That fidgety pulse returns, a bird’s caught wing under his palm. The rhythm remains so for nearly a minute, stuttering and jumping to some melody John couldn’t follow along, and he’s about ready to give it up for nonsensical, stupid advice before he hears Arthur sigh.

It’s not the same troubled exhale as before. This one comes calmer, more even-keeled. As he focuses on his heartbeat he notices it begins to slow, calming bit by bit into a steady, softer pattern. Arthur’s movements drift to a halt. He shifts among the roots, mumbling something too quiet to comprehend, and eventually falls silent.

“He sleeps much like the dead in appearance,” Yorick states thoughtfully. “I believe the dream has come to a close, for now.”

Good, remarks John, at a loss for anything else to say. He wasn’t going to tell Yorick thank you; but it was tempting. The gentle rise and fall of Arthur’s breathing is a placid current, subtler than the new rain beginning to break through the clouds overhead in the night. He could plainly picture him, sprawled out uncomfortably, breeze touseling sweat damp hair, a downward curve in a mouth which always seemed to be frowning lately. Protected just enough beneath the oak, protected enough beneath John’s palm.

Well, at least one of us is content.

“I am much content, King John.”

That makes a total of two. Can you please shut the hell up now? 

“If that is what you wish," the skull says amicably. "Then I will."

It is, John bites. Just thirty minutes of fucking silence. Please.

Yorick says nothing. Relief settles over him as the break distends. Minutes pass until he finally accepts his desire had been properly observed. Crickets sing around them once more.

Sleep well, he whispers, hand firmly over heart. Perhaps we can wait a little longer to get rid of him.

[thecampjuicebox]

Imagine how frustrated Haarlep would be with themself if they legitimately fell for someone. I think that might be the only way to fluster the dirty fiend. Lust and passion and indulgence, they know how to deal with. But love and tenderness and even the smallest inkling of emotional intimacy? I imagine Haarlep wouldn't hate it, just hate that they don't know what to do with it.

I mean, just imagine Haarlep puzzling over someone complementing their wit and just enjoying their company. Imagine Haarlep reacting to receiving aftercare for probably the first time in a long while. Imagine Haarlep receiving a thoughtful gift (like maybe Haarlep off-handedly mentions wanting to pursue a hobby and they later find supplies needed for said hobby gifted to them) with no string attached or any expectation of paying back the gift-giver. I would eat that kind of stuff up as if I were starving.

Anyway, thank you! Sorry for the paragraphs! Rambling over! Bye!

OKAY WAIT

You are truly on to something here. Haarlep fluff is my weakness and I am so so so so so excited to write about it whenever I get the chance. Baby deserves some lovins too!!!! (Might do a few parts to this, but for now I think Tav giving Haarlep a lil bath after sex just sounds so sweet)

Inferno Pt. 1

Pairing: Haarlep (m) x Tav (gn)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 3rd person

Warnings: Fluff, angst, very light smut, mutual pining, trouble accepting genuine affection, slight game spoilers (this fits in a weird spot canonically)

Chests heave in the throws of passion, sweat and sex mixing into a scent cocktail of epic proportions. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, Tav and Haarlep ride the waves of their pleasure, completely enraptured by the sounds and heat between them. Frantic thrusts rattle the large bedframe holding the mattress up beneath them, Haarlep's wings creating a protective cocoon around their otherwise vulnerable bodies. It's become a normal occurrence, the two of them. Late nights. Early mornings. Enjoying each others' company and the animalistic fuck sessions they've grown so fond of. With Raphael constantly being busy after the fall of the absolute and Tav finding a new home in the House of Hope, Haarlep searched for newness. For "fresh meat to feast upon in trying times", as he put it originally.

Tongues wrestle for dominance in a display of conflicting power, Haarlep's hips quickening their pace to chase his end. Quiet grunts break through the warm air of the boudoir. Breaking their kiss, Haarlep takes a moment to stare down at Tav, a strange and unfamiliar warmth trickling through his limbs. Strange.. But almost comforting. Tav whispers sweet nothings into the cambion's perked up ears as they both finish and topple over the edge of ecstasy, Haarlep collapsing in his usual way against Tav's tired body. Trembling arms snake around Haarlep's torso as the two attempt to find oxygen once more, gentle fingers dancing along his spine, feeling the rise and fall of each vertebra and ridge on his hot skin. Now they lie there. Quiet. Enveloped in each other like lovers, a concept that is all too foreign to the Incubus. Love. Lust; Haarlep has known for centuries. But love.. Love is so new. So fresh, like a deep bite or the stab of a dagger. Sweet words and caring gestures typically feel like salt in the cuts. Not with Tav, however. Everything feels natural with Tav. Organic and gentle. As he relaxes into the being beneath him, his mind wanders. Their quiet breaths and the thumping of their heart nearly lulls him to sleep. A tired Tav slides their way out of Haarlep's grasp to move toward the bath, the sticky residue of sweat and spend coating their skin in an uncomfortably thick layer.

"Mm, care to join me, Haarlep? I hope it's still warm.. Hells, we're in the Hells.. Of course it's still warm."

Tav chuckles sweetly to themselves, their air of comedic cluelessness forcing Haarlep to crack a smile. The incubus lifts his head, eyes narrowing on the naked elf before him. A bath? How romantic. A shiver rumbles down Haarlep's spine at the thought and he stands, sauntering slowly toward the tub, fingers reaching out to wiggle into the eternally hot water.

"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose.."

The two settle their aching bodies into the water and Tav immediately moves closer to Haarlep, fingers searching the edge of the tub for a bar of soap and a rag. Haarlep's eyes flutter closed and he focuses on the warmth around him. The steam. The scents enveloping his senses. The gentle swish of the hot water as Tav moves about the tub. Why is Tav.. The soft brush of a soapy rag across his chest startles Haarlep from his rest, his hands moving out to quickly guard himself from the assumed intruder of his space. Panic creates a flurry in this chest, pupils blown wide. His wings spread out and fling water out of the sides of the large tub. Tav gasps loudly and takes a step back, teeth clasping down onto their bottom lip, hand barely keeping a firm grasp on the slippery bar of soap they'd used to lather the rag. A mixture of embarrassment and shame paints the saddest expression on their face and Haarlep's fluttering heart falls deep into his stomach.

"What in the Nine Hells were you just doing?"

"I was trying to.. Wash you.. I'm sorry, I-"

Regret settles itself into the crows feet at the corners of Haarlep's eyes. He frowns at the frightened elf, wings settling into the water now after their terrifying display just moments ago. Large hands reach out to Tav's wrists and tug them closer, the bar of soap slipping and falling into the tub, a small splash coating Tav's lashes in water. Haarlep chuckles. A sound Tav hasn't heard in such a genuine manner. Is he upset? Worrisome eyes lower to the rippling water between them. The reflection of Tav's face on the surface forces their eyes closed anxiously. The rag remains clutched tightly between both hands now, suds and bubbles slipping out through the cracks in their fingers and spilling into the water beside them in a mountain of sweet smelling foam.

"Well don't just stand there. Keep going."

Confusion bubbles up in Tav's throat but they oblige, approaching the sleepy cambion with the rag once more. Little swipes clean the mess from Haarlep's chest and he lets out a content sigh. He's never been taken care of this way. He's never been taken care of at all, as a matter of fact. The feeling is both comforting and so disgusting. He lies rigid now, lids blinking as he stares up at the ceiling, his hands carefully resting on Tav's hips to keep them steady in front of him. The rag moves carefully up his neck now. Gentle strokes swipe away the sweat from the night's previous activities. Pausing for a moment, Tav fumbles for the bar of soap. They huff in frustration as it slips comically out of their hands and back into the water multiple times, droplets of water landing all over Haarlep's chest, face, horns, and wings. He grins and swiftly reaches for the bar, sinking his claws into the slippery surface.

"Gotcha!"

Laughter erupts from the two occupants of the tub. Genuine laughter. Tav carefully takes the soap from the incubus's claws, rubbing the rag around its surface to create a soapy lather. Haarlep retrieves the bar once more and sets it on the side of the tub as a precaution, a grin from his previous laughing fit still lingering on his thin red lips. For a moment, all is okay. The normal rumbling in Haarlep's brain is calmed. Soothed, even. The rag moves along his cheeks to clean them off. Tav's free hand moves around the back of Haarlep's head to direct him to look at them.

"Don't want to get soap in your eyes.."

"Yes, that would burn like, well, Hell."

Another sweet giggle leaves Tav's throat and Haarlep could burst into flames right there, leaving nothing but a puddle of floating ash in the tub where he sat. He adores everything about Tav. Their smile, the shape of their body, their sweet voice. Their eyes, Gods, their eyes. Piercing and gentle, staring right through him. Reading him like a rare old Tome. Most importantly, their interest in him. Not his cock. Not what he has to offer in the sheets. Him. Haarlep's claws gently rake down Tav's sides, earning a shaky moan from the elf's parted lips. Their resolve falters for a moment before the rag makes its way toward Haarlep's wings, rubbing gentle circles around the cherry colored leather skin. Haarlep sighs happily, his tail subconsciously wrapping itself around Tav's plush thigh. The tip rubs against their sex, making their knees buckle beneath them. With a swift tug, Tav falls against Haarlep, his hands moving to the globes of their ass now to hold them tightly against his lap, one hand moving to adjust their legs to wrap around him. Their eyes meet, and it's like the room around them catches fire. Sparks, lightning, flames, all igniting at once. Haarlep's stomach turns.

The unfamiliar feeling rises up again. It burns in his belly. Snakes its way through his arms and legs. Tingles like Weave in his spinal cord. He clears his throat, pressing even further into Tav while his tail continues the slow back and forth friction against them. The sounds he earns from the specimen against him just fuels his fire and he sinks his teeth into the top of their shoulder, little rivulets of blood pooling in the indentations he left there. With a grin, he licks the broken flesh. Tav writhes in his arms in excitement, reaching their arms up to give Haarlep's horns a gentle tug backward, forcing his gaze to fall upon their needy expression. With a huff, the incubus licks his lips, eyebrows knitting together apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself.."

"You don't have to. Not with me.."

[growup-thatbeautiful]

bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

*

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

*

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

*

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.