#So I've been fronting half as much as I usually do

[dragongirlcloaca]

I finally realized that the reason I love the Sylvia route in Mice Tea so much is because I want a hot snake therapist gf who will hypnotize me to fix my weird personality issues! Hypno for sex reasons is cool I guess, but therapy? Hell yeah!

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

My Darling

"Who even is that guy?"

"That's my darling"

----

It starts with a post.

Eddie had posted a photo on Instagram holding his acoustic guitar, cross legged on a chair.

Recently he had been front cover of a magazine of 'him' wrapped around a young woman. Living the Rockstar life.

His agent had suggested he show a more domestic side to him, a softer side.

Hence the acoustic.

It was summer so Steve was off of work and sleeping on the couch behind him, blankets up to his ears. The only thing visible was his hair peeking out and his arm hanging over the side of the couch. A sleeve of tattoos running down it all the way to his knuckles. Eddie loved that arm. He loved the way the tattoo curved around his knuckles like water. His nice, big. veiny hand that-

WOAH off topic.

He had done half the tattoos himself and made sure he payed for it all.It was the least he could do for all Steve has done for him.

They met eight and a half years ago, Steve had seen Eddie play at shitty clubs and recognized his mop of hair getting hit in the alleyway.

Eddie thought he was a goner for sure until Steve ripped the guy off him.

Steve just shot him a smile and complimented his guitar skills.

Eddie fell to his knees. He was gone for him.

He invited Steve to band practice as a thank you since he didn't have much to offer.

Two weeks later they were dating and Steve has been their number one fan since.

When Eddie got the record deal he dedicated everything to Steve.

Everything always was for him. As it should be.

Anyways,

Eddie posted the photo excited to promote the acoustic cover of his hit song 'My Hero, My Darling'.

The comments instantly went ballistic asking who the random man behind him was. He definitely wasn't in the band and why would notorious lady killer Eddie Munson have a man in his house...he couldn't possibly have friends.

Eddie responded to one comment only, knowing the rest would sort itself out.

"That's my darling ❤️"

----

"Eddie," Steve was frowning at him, poking his side with his foot.

"Eddie look at me this is serious."

"Yes my love?"

"You outed yourself. You were doing such a good job keeping this a secret. This will change everything."

Eddie turns over until his holding Steve close to him, his face in his hands.

"Good. I'm tired of hiding you my darling. I'm tired of the accusations."

"But Eddie you OUTED yourself."

"I won't say anything about you, I'd never out you Stevie. But I'm done hiding that I'm a simple man in love."

"...me too. I'm done too."

"Darling are you sure? This is a big deal. What about your school? Your principal?"

"I don't care. Everyone important to me knows. My family, my real family, know and don't care. They do wonder why I've been single for eight years but they'll get over it."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me oh my god that's the hottest thing I've ever heard. I love you so much please I can't live another moment not having you mine. Besides, if you get fired that's definitely a lawsuit and you know I've been pleasing for you to quit so I can take care of you, but you love those damn kids. Just...be mine...please."

"I've been yours. Since the start. Since always." They both have tears in their eyes.

"Yes?"

"YES OF COURSE YES!"

They're giggling through their kisses.

---

"Heeeeyyy everyone thanks for joining my live. I have something super important to inform you on! I'm getting married!!!!!"

The comments instantly flood in questioning him on moving too fast, asking if he's on drugs. The usual.

"Oooooh you guys have no idea."

----

The photo goes up an hour after the live ends.

It's Steve sitting on the couch, glasses on, red pen in his mouth. He's wearing a thick sweater and grumbling grading papers.

He looks so soft, so smooth, it's Eddie's favorite picture. The next picture in the carousel is Steve backstage at his concert. They're holding onto each other like they need each other to breathe.

The last picture is a selfie taken minutes after. Eddie with his stage makeup sweating off his face smiling brightly at the camera. and Steve kissing his cheek. Eyes squinted shut and eyeliner thick, he had worn it as a treat for Eddie.

It was well received.

The caption reads:

"I'm so happy to announce I'm marrying my best friend and partner of eight years! Everyone meet my darling. Steve is a local middle school teacher who has literally saved my life more than once. He saved my heart. God, I love him so much.

P.s. yes the tours are in the summer so Stevie can travel with us. I'd never leave him."

---

Bonus engagement edition:

"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED TO EDDIE MUNSON?!"

"Yes. We've been over this."

Eddie stuck out his hand to shake, "hi, Eddie Munson, nice to meet you."

"YOU HID THIS FOR EIGHT YEARS?!"

"Yes."

"I'M BASICALLY YOUR BROTHER! HE'S MY FAVORITE CELEBRITY!"

"Yes Dustin and you can't keep a secret."

"...fair...welcome to the family."

*inspired by my friend only learning her cousin was marrying someone famous when he showed up to Thanksgiving and she lost her mind

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 rice crackers

synopsis: after nami discovers a little girl stowing away on the sunny, the crew comes together to interrogate her... but she won't stop claiming to be your daughter

cw: lots and lots of fluff, comfort, zoro is emotionally constipated, your daughter's name is Yuki (i just picked something random), you and Zoro art not together yet, etc.

a/n: ending might be kinda rushed i'm tired

"And I'm out!" you cheered, throwing down your winning hand with a flourish, donning a triumphant smile.

"No way! You have to be cheating!" Usopp exclaimed, accusingly, looking down at the cards with wide eyes. "That's thirty-four times in a row!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you looped your arms around the huge stack of rice crackers, pulling them closer.

"No need be a sore loser. You know I won far and square," you teased, letting out a small giggle as you stuck out your tongue at the sniper.

"Like hell you did! My strategy was flawless! It was foolproof! There was no way you could've beat it!"

"What strategy?" your brows flattened, "Usopp... we're playing Go Fish. I don't think there's much to it."

"So? My brilliant mind can formulate a strategy for any kind of game, no matter how simple," he bellowed, proudly, as if that was some sort of feat.

"Yeah... brilliant."

The three of you, completely bored out of your minds, had plopped yourselves down on the deck to play some cards, hoping to pass the time until you arrived on the next island.

The boys had already done their daily fishing, as well as their daily kitchen raid, having sang with Brook and hung out with Franky a little bit earlier.

Meanwhile, you had already completed your training for the day, as per Zoro's workout regiment, having met with Robin for your two-woman book club after you took a shower.

But now you were completely free, and figured scamming the boys out of some food would be a good way to kill time.

"Dang. I coulda swore my strategy was gonna work," your captain huffed, glancing down at his hands, which held well over half of the deck.

"Luffy, why do you have so many cards?" you asked, raising a brow.

"More is better right?" he asked, a little lost.

"Is that how you've been playing this whole time?" Usopp sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose

"That's alright," you assured, smiling cheekily as you split your huge pile of rice crackers in half and slid some in front of Luffy. "We can share."

"Really?! Thanks, (y/n)!" Luffy beamed, eyes starry as he began to stuff his face.

"Hey! Why does he get a cut and I don't?!" Usopp fired back, feeling excluded.

"'Cause he's not a sore loser," you pulled down your lower eyelid, sticking out your tongue once again.

"No fair!"

"(Y/N)!"

Suddenly, Nami burst from her office, the door slamming harshly against the wall and sending a jolt of shock down your spine.

'The hell?!'

Surprised, the three of you turned toward the balcony, where Nami stood with furrowed brows, her body positioned in a way that concealed something behind her.

"Jeez, Nami, what's your problem?" Usopp asked, brow raised.

"Yeah, what's all the yelling for?" Luffy agreed, shoving another fistful of rice crackers in his mouth.

"Nami, my love! Is everything alright?!" Sanji came twirling out the kitchen, lovesick, as usual.

She scoffed, her attention laser-focused on you.

"(y/n), when were you going to tell me you had a daughter?! And why the hell is she stowed away in my office closet?!"

"WHAT?!"

You nearly laughed, absolutely gobsmacked by the words coming out of her mouth.

Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji's jaws nearly fell to the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates as they turned to you, utterly shocked.

"(Y/N), YOU HAVE A KID?!?"

"NO!" you scoffed, incredulously. "I'VE BEEN WITH YOU IDIOTS THE WHOLE TIME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL SHE'S TALKING ABOUT!"

"Mommy?" a tiny voice perked up, peeking out from behind your navigator's leg.

Your head snapped over to its source, and your heart nearly dropped to your ass once you got a good look.

It was you.

Or, well, not you exactly, but a younger version of you.

From her hair to her skin.

From her skin to her eyes.

From her eyes to the look on her face.

The only distinguishable differences between you two being both her youthful expressions, and her sharp scowl, which eerily resembled that of the ship's swordsman.

Though that scowl instantly melted away once she locked eyes with you, a blinding smile stretching across her lips.

"Mommy!"

Running out from behind Nami, she jumped up on the railing and launched herself off the balcony, much to your dismay.

"No!"

Without hesitation, you dove forward, catching her in your arms before pulling her into your chest, tucking your knees in to shield her from the impact as you rolled in the the grass.

In that moment, something in you awakened.

An instinct?

An obligation?

You weren't sure.

But something deep within your spirit couldn't stand seeing the little girl hurt, past the fact that she was a child.

You felt a sort of responsibility for her, despite barely having known her.

"What were you thinking?! You could've seriously hurt yourse—!"

Your scolding stopped once you felt something staring at you, forcing you to look down at its source, only to see the girl looking up with starry eyes, absolutely in awe of the sight before her.

"Mommy, you're so pretty!" she marveled, tiny hands rising to cup your face. "You look different!"

Your heart nearly melted at her wonderment, a small smile rising you your lips.

"Honey, I think you have me confu—"

"Is everything alright out here?" Robin asked, concerned, as she emerged from the cabin, looking around at the scene on the deck.

"Yohohoho! That thud gave me such a fright I nearly jumped out my skin!" Brook cackled, walking alongside her. "Or I would've if I had any..."

"Yeah, what's all the commotion? Someone fighting?" Franky asked, following after them, taking a swig of his bottle of cola.

"(y/n), why didn't you tell us you had a daughter?" your captain smiled, walking over to you. "She looks fun!"

"DAUGHTER?!" the three newcomers exclaimed.

"Woah! Uncle Luffy!" the girl gasped, taking a moment to look the boy over. "You're so tiny! Last I saw you, you were this big!"

'Uncle Luffy?'

She jumped out your arms, landing on the grass and standing on her tippy-toes, reaching her hand as high as she could.

"See?"

"Last you saw me?" he raised a brow, rubbing his chin in confusion. "But this is the first time I'm meeting you..."

"Okay, I think we need to get a few things sorted out," Nami sighed, joining the three of you, the rest of the crew watching intently.

It was now abundantly clear that you had no idea who the little girl was; but, even so, her uncanny resemblance to you was enough cause for suspicion.

They needed to get down to the bottom of this.

Carefully, Nami squatted down to the girl's level, resting her arms on her knees.

"Hun, can you tell me your name? And how you got here?" she asked, sweetly.

"Uh-huh!" the girl nodded, eagerly. "I was at home with my daddy and we were playing hide and seek, and I was hiding in the closet. But my daddy is so bad at hide and seek and I started to get sleepy waiting for him to find me. So I took a nap."

She shifted from her heels to her tippy-toes, swaying as she told the story.

"But when I woke up I was on mommy and daddy's old ship, and you were at your desk, Auntie Nami."

'Auntie Nami?'

This was just getting weirder and weirder.

"You think its 'cause of a devil fruit?" Sanji asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Someone put her here?"

"I doubt it," Robin shook her head. "We're in the middle of the ocean. With no other person on board and no island in sight, we're out of range. No one should be able to reach us here."

"Unless she stowed away from the last island and is making all this up," Usopp suggested. "What if this is all a trap?"

"Hey! I'm not lying!" the girl pouted, cheeks puffed.

"A trap that looks exactly like (y/n)? I find that hard to believe," Franky shrugged off, turning to you. "You sure she's not yours?"

"For the millionth time... yes."

"But... mommy?" her pout deepened, saddened by your statement. "It's me..."

Walking forward, she pulled a necklace from under her shirt, holding up a small, heart-shaped locket for you to see.

It was gold, with beautifully intricate engravings lining its surface, its clasp sealed with the tiniest emeralds you'd ever seen.

"You don't remember me?"

Carefully, she opened the locket, allowing you to lean forward and get a look at the picture.

And once you did, you nearly fell right through the floor, utterly shocked.

There sat a picture of you, Zoro, and the girl, wide smiles adorning your faces as the swordsman seemed to be lifting you both up at the same time, you sitting pretty in his beefy arm, and the girl sitting on the back of his neck, holding his forehead for purchase.

The two of you looked slightly older, not drastically seasoned with age, but obviously distinguishable.

It couldn't be more than ten years in the future...

But that wasn't the only thing that caught your attention.

After scanning over the whole photo once again, your eyes immediately trained on the matching, gold bands adorning both your ring fingers, the dots slowly beginning to connect��evident by your expression.

Noticing your shock, the others huddled around, stealing their own glances and sharing their own looks of surprise.

You and the swordsman not only marry in the somewhat near future, but also start a family together.

An incredibly happy family, if the image was anything to go off of.

Your entire world was being flipped upside down.

Never, in all the time you'd known him, did allow yourself to believe the two of you would end up together.

Sure, your feelings for Zoro ran deep—deeper than they'd ever ran for anyone else—but you knew nature of your relationship.

You were his best friend.

From what you knew, he'd never felt any romantic inclination toward anyone, too immersed in his goal to focus on anything else.

You thought you were just a training partner.

Just a buddy to drink with.

Just person to talk to over night watch.

Just a friend to cover during battle.

Not a lifelong partner.

Not someone he'd want to have a kid with.

Taking note of your spiral, Nami set her hand down on you shoulder, grounding you, before she turned to the little girl, one last question in mind.

"Honey... could you tell us your name?"

She nodded, looking up at the whole crew with an expression of pride.

"My name is Roronoa Yuki! And I'm gonna be the World's Greatest Swordsman!"

You nearly fainted right there, the rest of the crew gaping at the irrefutable evidence.

This was, indeed, you and Zoro's daughter.

On the balcony above you all, a spit take was heard, everyone turning around to see the man of the hour staring down at the girl, eye wide and bottle of sake long forgotten as he attempted to rationalize what he just heard, as well as the sight before him.

"Daddy!" Yuki beamed, utterly elated to see the scowling face of her father.

Eagerly, she waved at the man as he stood there, quite literally struck dumb.

Someone had a hell of a lot of explaining to do...

"Wait... I don't get it," Yuki muttered, voice small as she ate a fistful of rice crackers, turning to the green haired swordsman next to her. "You're not my dad?"

She seemed saddened by the fact, as well as confused, seeing as the man looked exactly like her father.

"If I'm bein' honest, I'm a little lost, too. I came into all this a little later than everyone else..." Zoro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But if what Robin said is right, then I am your dad, just from a time before you were born."

Her little face lit up with understanding, "Ohhhhhhh. So before you and mommy fell in love?"

Zoro's breath slightly hitched at the wording, still trying to process the multitude of thoughts and feelings racing through his head.

After Nami and Robin gave him the brass tacks breakdown of who Yuki was and how she got there, he felt the sudden urge to lay down, emotionally overwhelmed by the whole situation.

His future was sitting right next to him, eating a stack of rice crackers.

Now don't get him wrong, his uneasiness—and slight embarrassment—about the whole situation wasn't because of you, or the girl, or anyone else for that matter.

It was because you had to discover his feelings like this.

Or at least get an idea of it.

You were one of his closest friends on the crew, someone he had fought alongside since the beginning (you being among the first to join).

Someone who had saved his life as many times as he'd saved yours.

Someone who would help him to bed after a wild night of drinking and parties.

Someone whose touch sent his heart into a frenzy, and made his head spin.

He wasn't stupid.

He knew what these feelings were.

He knew what these feelings meant.

He was in love with his best friend.

Yet, rejecting that fact made it less real, less daunting, and thus, less bothersome.

But it was hard to remain in his bubble of denial and tranquility when the living, breathing evidence defying him was chowing down not too far away.

With a sigh, Zoro glanced at the small girl out the corner of his eye, watching as she stuffed another heaping handful of crackers into her mouth.

God, she looked just like you.

It was almost baffling.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he decided now was as good a time as any to ask some questions.

"So... am I training you to be a swordsman?" he asked, awkwardly, eyes slightly shifting away from her.

"Mhmm!" Yuki nodded, looking up at the man. "We started a few months ago, and its super hard! But you always tell me that the path of a swordsman is lined with countless trials, and if I wanna be the best, I gotta beat them all."

She grinned, determinedly.

"So I always push myself harder."

Zoro smiled, slightly, warmed by his daughter's determination.

She was his, for sure...

"What about hand-to-hand?" he asked again, intrigued.

"I do that with mommy," she answered. "She says she was always better at it than you."

He half-chuckled, half-scoffed, almost amused by the statement, "She wishes... you should see her now."

The rest of the crew had gone ashore on an island they'd come across, hoping to find a way to send Yuki back to her correct time.

This, of course, left Zoro on ship watching duty, which, in this case, translated to baby-sitting duty.

Just then, a smirk rose to his lips, his ego slightly boosted by the awe-struck look of the child.

"One thing you shouldn't forget, kid, is I don't lose, with swords or without."

"Except in arguments with mommy..."

His breath hitched, brows flattening at the remark.

'Shoulda figured that one...'

He couldn't win arguments with you now.

When you'd get all up in his face—brows furrowed, finger poking his chest, tone dangerous—was, oddly enough, one of the times when he found you most attractive.

You looked hot when you were mad.

And every time, without fail, he'd be too busy staring at you to pay any attention to what you were saying, which would only result in more yelling.

Speaking of which...

"Hey, kid..." he started, seriously, the girl looking at him with confusion at the sudden change in demeanor. "I wanna know something."

Yuki nodded, ready for his question.

"What's your mom like in the future?"

The girl instantly lit up, perfectly ready to gush about her beloved mother.

"She's is the nicest, toughest, most prettiest mommy in the whole, wide world!" she exclaimed, exuberantly. "She told me all the stories of her awesome fights and adventures on the sea. Even the super scary ones!"

A small smile stretched across his lips, warmed by the girl's overwhelming adoration for you.

"She did, did she?" he nodded for her to continue. "Stories like what?"

"Like how you guys were swallowed by a giant whale!" she exclaimed. "And how you met the warrior giant pirates! And how you went to war with the World Government and saved Auntie Robin!"

Practically bouncing with excitement, she grabbed Zoro's sleeve, clutching it tightly with enthusiasm.

"And how you and Uncle Luffy fought two, huge dragons!"

He smirked, pride puffing his chest at the memory of injuring Kaido, as well as the dragon he decapitated back on Punk Hazard.

It all must've sounded pretty fantastical to a child.

"That's why I can't wait to get strong! I'll be able to have my own adventures!" she stated, dreamily. "Monji's already learning from Uncle Sanji how to cook yummy food! And you and mommy are teaching me how to fight! So we'll be ready to join a crew in no time!"

"Wait..." he paused a moment, not recognizing a name. "Monji?"

'Don't tell me...'

"Mhmm! My best friend! Uncle Sanji is his dad, so he's teaching him everything he knows about kicking and cooking!"

The idea nearly gave Zoro heart burn, the man's calloused hand coming up to clutch his chest.

Not only did Curlybrow have a son—the fact that he was able to settle down already mind-boggling enough—but he also had the audacity to allow the little brat to fraternize with his daughter.

Who knows what kind of pervy, ero-cook nonsense he was teaching the kid?

The way Yuki was gushing about the boy didn't bode well at all; her little self went on and on and on about how strong and kind Monji already was.

Zoro could practically see it.

His little girl falling in love with and marrying Sanji's son, forcing the two of them to become family forever.

A fate worse than death.

"Hey, wait," he realized, suddenly remembering something gravely important, easily surpassing all the other questions he'd asked you. "If I'm your dad... and (y/n)'s your mom... then that means you know how we got together..."

Yuki nodded, tucking a small strand of hair behind her ear.

"Mhm. You told me one time," she confirmed. "You two were on a battlefield when it happened."

Intrigued, Zoro listened closely, his gaze not leaving the girl for a moment as she continued.

"Mommy got injured really bad, and you had to keep the bad guys from hurting her while Uncle Chopper patched her boo-boos. But once she was okay, you pulled her up and gave her a big kiss! Mommy says it was soooo romantic!"

Zoro playfully rolled his eyes at the cliche.

Who knew future him would be so cheesy?

Either way, he wasn't complaining. He ended up with you, and that was all that mattered.

Though... he did have one more question...

"Hey, do—?"

But his words were interrupted by soft snores, the man looking down at his lap to see the little girl had laid her head down on his thigh, no doubt falling asleep after all her excitement.

The swordsman's heart melted slightly, and his shoulders sank, his calloused hand coming up to swipe a few stray crumbs from her cheeks before resting on her back.

As much as he hated to admit it, he could get used to this...

The little girl napping on his leg brought out a certain instinct within him—one that burned with the will to protect her and her happiness at all costs.

All the awkwardness and emotional outpouring would be worth it if they came to this outcome...

And as you boarded the ship with the rest of the crew, solution to the dilemma in hand, you couldn't help but think the exact same thing—your eyes settling on the sight of your sleeping, soon-to be husband, and your snoring, soon-to-be daughter, laying peacefully together.

You could get used to this, too...

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[dwaekkicidal]

"Heats" with Puppy!Seungmin

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Day 4 of my Bboki-Dwae collab with @bbokicidal <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~800

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, lots of marking (bites+hickeys), spanking, rough sex mentions, light(?) manhandling, breeding, some cumplay, like 1 overstim mention, i mightve missed one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: wish i could have made this longer but i've been so busy :((

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

❥ Jealous. Jealous. Jealous. J e a l o u s.

❥ These mating season fits tend to get him very aggressive and standoffish. To everyone.

❥ One simple glance at you from any person in the vicinity will send him into a fit of rage. But, thankfully for you, he doesn’t act on this in public! That’s saved for the bedroom, where you’re held down in his favorite position- downward doggy, for hours at a time.

❥ Does not care about any excuses anybody has to give. The second he notices that somebody is too close to you or even “looking at you for too long”, you’re getting dragged home to be shown your place

❥ Expect to be absolutely covered in bite marks and hickeys, ones that he “tries” to keep in spots where they won’t be seen. But, let's be real... We all know he gets a hard-on and a huge ego boost when they’re in obvious places and you just so happen to be out in public

❥ Looooves to leave deep bite marks on your neck and shoulders (some may or may not even have little holes from where his sharp canines dig into your skin hehe)

❥ He loses his mind when he sees these marks on your tummy and thighs from the prior night, him having completely forgotten that he even left them. Obviously, nobody will see them. But knowing that you’re fully marked up in the “most important” areas will get him instantly ready to go again

❥ Usually will be very apologetic about the bites that have wounds from his teeth but, if he’s particularly aggravated, he will start doing it on purpose.

❥ He gets real mean when he’s like that; a deep frown on his face and a low growl bubbling up in his throat as he pins you to the bed and berates you over things you had no control over. You both know that, but that won’t stop him from using it to fuck you nice and rough. And it surely won’t stop you from enjoying each and every time his hips slam into yours.

❥ Has such an obnoxious knot!!!!! You can’t tell if it’s all in your head, but when he’s extra cranky and giving in to his instincts to breed you, his knot feels like it's double the size.

❥ And he’s always so mean about it :( he’s a little shit and likes to tug his hips away from yours right after his knot fully expands, testing the limits of how far it will actually plug you (spoiler: it does not come out)

❥ If he’s rather eager, his knot can last up to half an hour. Which, may or may not be to your demise, usually ends in him reaching over into your nightstand, grabbing his favorite toy so he can overstimulate you out of boredom while you cockwarm him <3

❥ Breeds you until your stomach hurts from the number of times he’s came deep inside <3 Tells you that it better take or else he’ll just have to fuck you over and over and over again, which leads to you drooling from overstimulation and dripping cum all over the sheets

❥ Surprisingly he’s not one to get upset about you “wasting” his seed. In fact, it’s the only mess that he actually likes.

❥ To the point where he will pull out after knotting you just to sit there, tapping his dick on your messy folds with a big dopey smile on his face

❥ Absolutely loves the wet plap noises your cunt makes when he slaps his cock against you. So much so that it’s subconscious as he keeps himself occupied during downtime, usually the few minutes you get between rounds before he’s re-entering you, ready to breed you again and again.

❥ Is big on wrapping a hand around your neck, be it on your nape or on the front of your neck, and holding you down. It lets him force you to take everything he has to give while limiting how much you wiggle around

❥ Pairs this with stinging slaps to your ass cheeks, and a comment about how you’re his and how nobody else will ever have you like this, in order to get your pretty pussy even wetter around him

“I should fuck a litter into you. Then maybe people will stop fucking looking at what’s mine.”

“You’re gonna be such a hot mother for my pups. Shit- Gonna keep you nice and full of my offspring.”

“Stop fucking moving, I need to mark you.”

“Take this fucking knot, puppy. Yeah? Fuck yeah~”

“Such a pretty pussy. All nice n’ messy from my cum.” As he rubs his tip through your folds, sometimes poking your clit to watch you shake ><

“I have to keep us entertained until my knot goes down, so you’ll let me play with you a bit- right, Jagi?”

Taglist:

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez

[bombsonboard]

metal arm brrr

Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)

A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.

*****

“Can you stop moving, please?” 

Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed. 

When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep. 

You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.

Nope, can’t do it. You shift again. 

“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”

With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.

He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.

“I swear if you say-”

“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation. 

“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”

“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm. 

“...If you could?”

“Seriously, fuck you.” 

Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?

“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.” 

Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away. 

In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad. 

With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist. 

You slept like a lamb after that.

*****

When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other. 

Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.

“The fuck is this?”

You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter. 

“A solution?” You shrug.

“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”

“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.

“You’re a fucking menace.” 

The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.

Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.

Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm. 

“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head. 

You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-

“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.

When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.

“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender. 

“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede

“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”

He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.

It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back. 

“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.

Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:

“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”

[crescenthistory]

hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[ellecdc]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, I’ve binged like all of your fics 😂. If possible could you do maybe a poly!moonwater x reader where said reader maybe gets hurt (maybe someone says something negative about Remus and she gets hurt defending him?) I just absolutely adore your moonwater fics! And when Barty gets involved is hilarious. thank you so much! No pressure if you don’t feel the Inspo for it!

I've not written for moonwater in a while, so this was a sweet treat! thanks for your request, lovie <3

poly!moonwater x gn!reader who defends Remus' honour

CW: Snape's a wanker in this and we hand his ass to him for it [sorry to my Snape apologists out there - don't hate me!], alluding to blood but no actual mention of it? small injury to hand, Regulus sharing Sirius' DNA trait for mischief

You sucked in a pained breath through your teeth which was quickly replicated by your boyfriend in some sort of weird comradery.

“I know, I know; I’m sorry dove.” Remus murmured softly as he continued dabbing gently at the broken skin on your knuckles. 

“S’not your fault.” You mumbled petulantly as you tried to ignore the stinging of every swipe he made; the once pristine white cloth now quite decorated in red. 

Remus snorted as he eyed you pointedly before affixing his gaze back to your hands. “It sounds as if it sort of was.” 

It was your turn to snort as you glared at the wall behind Remus as if it had been the one making derogatory comments in the halls a mere ten minutes ago. “You’re not the wanker who was begging to be punched.”

Remus shook his head in admonishment, but you could feel the [painful] puffs of air dancing across your open wounds as he breathed out a laugh. “He’s going to be furious, you know?”

Remus didn’t clarify who he was, but he didn’t need to. “Yeah well, if you would bloody hurry up and cast an episkey on this already, he’d never have to know.” You taunted only half teasingly [and half very nervously about how long it was taking to close up the few scrapes lining your hands from your minor scuffle]. 

Unfortunately, he walked in through the door before Remus had finished patching you up.

“What in the bloody hells is this I’m hearing about a brawl between you and Snape?” Regulus demanded with a stoney face as he stalked towards your form; face falling as your hands came into his view.

“Amour! What in Salazar’s name- On dirait que tu as combattu un nundu.” 

“Okay, well, I think that’s a little dramatic.” You deflected quickly at the insinuation that you walked away from a fight with a nundu with nothing but a few cuts and scrapes to your knuckles to show for it.

“Dramatic?” Regulus drawled as he levelled you with an unimpressed look. “I’m not the one who jumped another student in the hallways after Potions! And Snape of all people; you know to ignore his usual drivel, amour.”

You shared a guilty look with Remus who gave you a sad smile. 

“It wasn’t the usual drivel, Reg.” Remus offered, causing Regulus’ breath to leave him which he had at the ready, no doubt, to continue his admonishment. 

“I didn’t think that sod had the brain cells left to come up with anything new.” He offered noncommittally, causing Remus to snort a laugh. “Still, sweetheart; I’d really prefer you just ignore him.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore a tosser who has the audacity to speak about my, quote, half-blood half-breed freak and his blood-traitor servants who he no doubt imperio’d to be with him?” You challenged; tone both soft yet firm as you looked at Regulus imploringly. 

Regulus stood there staring back at you before you noticed his jaw tighten. “Bâtard.” He spat as he looked down to where Remus was sitting on a footstool in front of you as he finished wrapping your hands. 

“He’s just jealous that he can’t find one person to put up with his black hair and brooding personality, let alone two.” 

“Did Regulus Black just make…not only a joke, but a joke at his own expense?” You teased as you kicked one of your feet out at him, only for him to catch you by the ankle and run his thumb over your ankle bone. 

“Of course I did; I’m hilarious.” Regulus agreed in monotone causing both you and Remus to chuckle. 

“You’re all fixed up, dovey.” Remus announced as he stood, bending to press a kiss on your head before pressing one to Regulus’ too. “No more fights at my expense, okay?”

“Can I fight at Regulus’ expense?” 

“No.” Both boys chorused, though Remus pointed at himself as he nodded and mouthed “tell me first”. 

“So, where can I find Snape now?” Regulus asked as he dropped your ankle, earning him unimpressed looks from both of you. “What? I’m not going to go find him, I just need to tell Barty where he can find him.”

“Junior doesn’t give a niffler’s arse about what Snape has to say about me, Reggie.” Remus admonished as he leaned against the headboard of his four poster bed. 

“Perhaps not.” Regulus agreed readily before his gaze moved to meet yours; the horrifying glimmer of mischief present in his icy grey eyes sending shivers down your spine. “But he will care to know that his precious Treasure lost blood over that foul git.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You hissed.

But Regulus had already turned on his heel and was rushing out of the marauder’s dorm room; as you stood to chase him, two arms wrapped an iron grip around your middle and pulled you flush to his chest. 

“No more fights, dovey.” Remus murmured into your neck as he pulled you back into his bed with him.

“I’d only be fighting our sodding boyfriend! You know I’d win!” You whined petulantly, though your body traitorously melted into Remus’ frame as he nuzzled impossibly further into your neck. 

“No more fighting.” He repeated.

So you acquiesced; you stopped fighting and fully allowed yourself to be cuddled by your half-blood half-breed boyfriend that you were so unbelievably and willingly in love with.

[zorrasucia]

“okay, slow down, you’d never done this until 5 minutes ago” with virgin carmy 🧎🏼‍♀️

Hello, Anon! 💜

Of course! This takes place in his Copenhagen era. Thank you for allowing me to continue my ongoing campaign for Virgin!Carmy 😌 I hope you like it!

"I didn't expect you to cook," you said, watching Carmy plate pasta with ease, a healthy serving of parmesan cheese on top. "Thought you'd be sick of it at the end of the day. It smells delicious, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled shyly as he sat in front of you, the boat swaying a little. "Wanted to make you something from home."

You didn't know what to expect when Terry arranged for you to meet up with her new golden boy, Carmy, but this was feeling more and more like a blind date. Weirdly enough, you didn't mind her meddling this time.

"Where's home?" you asked.

"Chicago. You?"

"I don't even know where my home is anymore. Before Copenhagen, I was in London for a long while. And I haven't been to visit Aunt Terry in months..."

Carmy arched an eyebrow but didn't ask.

"She's my godmother, Chef Terry, not my actual aunt. I don't usually tell people about it, don't want to make her look bad," you shrugged, something about Carmy made it so easy to open up. "For whatever it's worth, I tried to stay away from cooking and baking and everything, I really did. I just couldn't."

"I get it. Why desserts though?" he asked.

"There's something freeing about them," you bit your lip, trying to put it into words. "You know how they're described, right? It's always decadent, confection, guilty pleasure - things like that. You can be creative."

When you looked up, Carmy was smiling - he looked younger and softer.

"I like that. Sounds nice."

"It is," you smiled back and took a forkful of spaghetti. It was delicious. "Oh, this is incredible," you hummed.

Carmy beamed.

While you dried the dishes, you caught a glimpse of one of Carmy's drawings.

"You make these?"

He looked up from the sink and flushed. "Helps me remember details," he explained shyly, avoiding your gaze.

You learned he had notebooks full of vegetables and dishes, diagrams for plating and cooking. You were surprised to find one of the pastries you had been working on perfecting there too, notes scribbled on the side. Your fingernails traced the lines carefully.

"You can have it," he offered.

"Really?"

He had an adoring, boyish look on his face and you melted inside.

"Yeah," he said, tearing out the page and giving it to you.

"Thanks," you said and without thinking, leaned in to kiss him.

It was quick, a gentle peck. As soon as you parted, you realized you wanted more - you both did.

"Can you- Would you do that again?" Carmy asked.

You tilted your head, moving slowly, relishing the moment right before the kiss, the way his lips parted slightly in anticipation. When you pressed your lips to his again, you took your time, let him cup your face and caress your waist as your tongue touched his lower lip.

When you parted, he looked relieved - that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"I didn't think we would do anything like this tonight," you said, your voice breathy from the kisses Carmy was leaving on your neck and collarbone.

You had spent the last half hour making out on his bed, slowly losing layers of clothing. Your blouse and trousers were on the floor, along with his jeans and t-shirt. His right hand was on your breast, caressing your nipple through the fabric of your sports bra, your right hand was palming his cock through his boxers.

"Neither did I," he exhaled into your skin, his thumb hooking on the elastic of your panties. "It's good though?"

He looked up at you for confirmation.

"I- uh-" you hesitated.

"Shit," Carmy froze, starting to withdraw from you.

"No, wait, Carmy," you grabbed his wrist before he could get away. "It's great. You're great. It's just, I've been busy so I didn't- It's a little hairy down there is what I'm trying to say," you said awkwardly, your fingers intertwined with his on your hip, trying to convey your meaning.

Carmy tilted his head, confused. "Okay... Something wrong?"

"I don't know if you're, uh, used to girls that shave it all or- I don't know. Men can be assholes about body hair," you said, a little defensively.

"I'm not used to anything," Carmy said, chuckling nervously. "I like what you look like."

"Oh," you smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

You nodded, getting rid of your bra, while he tugged down your underwear.

Carmy got close, his right hand moving to cup your pussy, carding his fingers through the hair, caressing. It made you hum.

"Want to taste you," he whispered.

"Yes," you squeezed his bicep, encouraging him.

"Just- Shit. I think I might be bad at it," he said, his eyes suddenly looked vulnerable.

"Evil ex told you that?" you asked gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never done it," he confessed. "Don't want to fuck it up with you."

"Carmy," you touched his chest, tracing soothing patterns, calming him. "You said you wanted a taste, right?" he nodded. "There's no way you can fuck that up. If you make me feel good, that's great but I don't need it to be perfect, okay?"

He kissed you, slow and soft - thank you. Then, deep and full of lust - I want you.

He made his way down your body, licking and nipping at skin, stopping between your legs. You opened them wider for him to settle. He took a good look at you, fingers touching your outer lips with care.

"Beautiful," he exhaled and it tickled you in the most delicious way. You shivered.

He started giving you long, vertical licks, tracing the contour of your folds, almost like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. You moaned low. It was good. There was no rhythm to it but was making you wet and restless.

"Mhmm," you encouraged him, carding your fingers through his curls.

Tracing the lines of you and listening to your breathing, he found your clit. After a couple of his licks were followed by sharp inhales he decided to stay there, kissing and licking, becoming frantic, quickly addicted to the sound of your pleasure.

"Oh! Fuck. Okay, slow down, you’d never done this until five minutes ago," you pulled on his hair, trying to keep his tongue from completely undoing you.

"Shit. That bad?" Carmy asked, sitting up.

"Too fast," you tried to catch your breath. "Too fast."

"Fuck, sorry," he soothed the skin of your thighs and your hips.

"It's- You found the spot. That's good. Just- take your time with it," you explained. "Let me savor it."

He chuckled, your play on words reminding him that he had tasted you and then some.

"Okay," he kissed the valley between your thigh and your hip, soft and sensual, like he was trying it out.

You smiled fondly, watching him slowly kiss his way back to your pussy, open-mouthed, gentle. A needy sound caught in the back of your throat when he finally got close to where you wanted him.

Carmy's eyes widened.

"Oh. Got it," he mumbled, realizing that half the fun was making you wait for it.

He tortured you, carefully finding every place that gave you pleasure. Then, he built up a rhythm that had you writhing on the sheets, fighting the grip he had on your hips, trying to fuck his face, and he paused.

"I've made a monster," you complained, panting and caressing his face - shiny with his sweat and your arousal.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Can't believe you're letting me do this."

You exhaled and giggled giddily. "Can't believe you're enjoying this so much."

"Mhmm," Carmy nuzzled the inside of your thigh, his roman nose tracing zigzags while you caught your breath.

When he started again, he was a little rougher - sucking harder than he had dared so far, hoisting your legs above his shoulders. You moaned low and squeezed your breast, looking for something to keep you grounded. Carmy caught your movements and rushed to replace your hand with his, humming in approval as you intertwined your fingers. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He stopped for a second.

"Eyes on me," he growled.

And he kept on devouring you.

You struggled to keep eye contact with how vehemently he was sucking on your pussy, lewd noises coming from his mouth. He was making you gasp for breath and grab desperately at the bedsheets underneath.

You were vaguely aware of the mattress shaking - was Carmy grinding into it? You didn't check or ask any further questions - he was humming in delight against your pussy, lips closed around your clit and eyes fixed on you. He arched his eyebrows. Now? You nodded eagerly.

"Please, Carmy," you keened.

He kept sucking on you, his grip on your breast and thigh getting forceful enough to bruise as you reached your high. You came with a needy sound, something between a whine and an exhale, legs shaking and hips grinding towards his face.

You regained your bearings just in time to see Carmy humping the mattress desperately, drowning gravelly moans into your thigh as he came too.

"Fuck," you sighed, your fingers soothing Carmy's scalp, probably sore from you pulling on it hard all that time. "Oh, my God. Carmy..."

"Sorry. Shit, sorry," he panted, his sticky cheek resting on your hip.

"Are you seriously apologizing for making me cum?" you giggled.

"I couldn't hold it back any longer," he explained.

You didn't tell him how hot it was to see him like that, completely lost in wanting you, cumming in his boxers because he liked eating you out that much. He wouldn't believe it.

So instead you said: "Guess that means we'll have to see each other again. So I can repay the favor."

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.

f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!

word count: 898 // read on ao3

a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.” 

If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment. 

“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”

“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.” 

Ah, there it is.

Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels. 

There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.

The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.

Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday). 

Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land. 

But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight. 

And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.

It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.

He gets a hmph! in response.

“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?” 

The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”

Oh, he knows. 

“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out. 

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble. 

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. 

Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

“I lied.”

“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. 

“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”

You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?

Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?

“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”

“You mean it?”

“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”

And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”

“So I am. Ow.” 

You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.

But also something else. Something shiny. 

He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[delulustateofmind]

Long Distance III - Don't Go

Sometimes you just can't say goodbye

Gojo x Reader

Blurb, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, end

CW: ANGST/FLUFF- I've been too kind on the last few with the fluff. Satoru crying, switching to Japanese and English.

WC: 7.7k (Holy...shit I think this might be up there with my longest)

A/n: I did do less Japanese this time to kind of showcase that his English is getting more confident. I don't know if there is going to be another part or not. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them! (I might do an epilogue, who knows)

You sat on Satoru’s couch, listening as he paced back and forth across the sleek living room, his voice sharp as he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese on the phone. His frustration was palpable, each clipped word bouncing off the spacious walls of the penthouse.

Your gaze drifted over the room for what felt like the tenth time since you’d arrived. A penthouse in Shibuya. A penthouse. You didn’t know much about professor salaries, but the last time you checked, astrophysics didn’t exactly pay this well.

Satoru ran a hand through his already-messy white hair, ruffling it further until it stuck up in every direction. He cast you an apologetic glance, his blue eyes still managing to sparkle despite his irritation. Your lips twitched into a shy smile as your eyes flicked to your luggage sitting near the door.

Apparently, the hotel had overbooked and lost your reservation. And now, here you were—in Satoru’s impossibly fancy apartment.

You sighed softly, turning toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of Tokyo’s skyline. The sun was just beginning to set, the city’s dazzling lights coming alive in the distance.

Behind you, Satoru muttered something under his breath in Japanese, and then you heard the couch creak as he flopped down beside you.

One thing you’d learned in Chicago was that Satoru had no concept of personal space. Before you could so much as glance at him, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his silver hair brushing lightly against your neck.

“Smells nice,” he murmured, the words half in Japanese, half in English. Then, just as quickly, he sat up, burying his face in his hands with a groan.

“This was supposed to be perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “I can always stay at a hotel nearby,” you offered hesitantly, “or maybe one of those capsule hotels?”

That earned you a sharp look from Satoru, his lips tugging into a pout that was as dramatic as it was annoyed.

“Not safe, Y/N,” he said with a slight whine, his English faltering as he pointed at you for emphasis. “You stay here. My place is better. Safe.”

His tone was final, like there was no room for argument, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his overprotective streak. “Okay, okay. No capsule hotels.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking to yours with a faint grin. “You’ll like it here. My place… very comfortable.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, you found yourself smiling, the surreal absurdity of the situation starting to settle in.

Satoru sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair as he sat back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His pout deepened, and he glanced sideways at you, his brows furrowed in thought.

“でも、本当に大丈夫？(But, is this really okay?)” he asked, his tone quieter than usual. “I mean… you, here, with me?”

You tilted your head at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my friend, Satoru. And it’s not like I had anywhere else to go tonight.”

His lips twitched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious. “Friend, huh?” he muttered under his breath in Japanese before switching to English. “But… I’m still a man, you know. 男だし。(I am still a man.)”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden admission. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Ah…何て言えばいいか分からない…(I don’t know how to say it…),” he mumbled, his voice muffled. Then he peeked up at you, his blue eyes uncharacteristically hesitant. “You… staying here. It’s… how to say… difficult? For me?”

You frowned, your heart starting to race. “Difficult? Why?”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically and flopping backward against the couch again. “Because you’re… you,” he said, switching to Japanese for the last part. “君が…君だから。”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked again, your voice more flustered this time.

“It means,” he said, pausing to search for the right words, “that I… ああもう! (Ah, forget it!)” He waved his hand in frustration and sat up straight, his expression more serious now.

“Look,” he continued in a mix of English and Japanese. “I… care about you, okay? Like, a lot. More than… ah…普通の友達。(Just a normal friend.) So, having you here, in my home, so close…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again as his ears turned pink. “It’s hard.”

Your breath caught, his words sinking in slower than they should have. “Satoru…”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, waving you off. “I’m being weird, right? Strange? What’s the word? Uh… creepy?”

“You’re not creepy,” you said softly, your voice steadier now despite your racing heart.

He glanced at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, though your cheeks burned. “I mean, I get it… kind of. But you don’t have to worry. I trust you.”

Satoru blinked at you, and for a moment, his usual teasing grin faltered. His gaze softened, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, he let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the couch as a small, wry smile tugged at his mouth.

“You’re too trusting,” he muttered, his voice low. Then, in Japanese, he added, “君が思ってるよりもっと。俺がどれだけ君に落ちてるか分からないでしょう。(More than you think. You have no idea how hard I’ve fallen for you.)”

“What was that?” you asked, catching his tone but not the meaning.

“Nothing!” he said quickly, straightening up and forcing a grin. “Just saying… you’re stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking,” you shot back, though your heart was still pounding.

He laughed, the sound a little too loud to be natural, and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. You stay. But—” He turned to face you, his expression more serious again. “If it gets… too much, you tell me, okay? I’ll sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to…” He trailed off, searching for the words again. “What’s the word? Cross line? Break… uh… rules?”

“I’ll tell you,” you promised, smiling despite your nerves. “But you’re overthinking this, Satoru. It’s just one night.”

He nodded, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his lingering awkwardness. “Right. One night. Just… one.”

As the night wore on, you tried to push the conversation out of your mind, but Satoru’s words—and the way he’d looked at you—kept replaying in your head.

When it was finally time to settle in for the night, he stood in the hallway, awkwardly gesturing toward the guest room. “Bed’s there. You sleep. I, uh…” He scratched his neck, his gaze flicking anywhere but at you. “I stay here. Couch is fine. Perfectly fine.”

“You’re really not going to sleep in your own bed?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you repeated, laughing softly.

“For me,” he muttered under his breath, switching back to Japanese.

You stared at him for a moment, the pieces slowly clicking into place. Your chest tightened, and you quickly looked away, not trusting yourself to say anything without your voice giving you away.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you said finally, your voice softer than usual.

“おやすみ、Y/N,” he replied, his tone equally quiet.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but lean against it for a moment, your heart racing as his words echoed in your mind.

I care about you, okay? Like, a lot.

Little did you know, Satoru was still standing on the other side of the door, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself in Japanese.

“バカだな、俺。(I’m such an idiot.)”

The smell of coffee lingered in the air as sunlight streamed through the massive windows of Satoru’s apartment. You had just finished your shower, wrapping yourself tightly in one of the fluffy white towels he’d lent you. Your hair was still dripping slightly as you stepped out of the bathroom, hoping to make a quick dash to the guest room before running into anyone.

Of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

The door to the apartment swung open just as you stepped into the hallway, and Satoru walked in, a gym bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his fitted workout shirt clung to him in a way that made you immediately regret leaving the safety of the bathroom.

He froze mid-step when he saw you, his pale blue eyes widening as they flickered from your face to the towel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” he said, switching to Japanese instinctively. “あの…(Um…)”

You stood there, rooted in place, your face growing impossibly warm. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d be back so soon!”

“I—I didn’t think you’d—uh…” His English faltered as he struggled to piece together a sentence. “I came back early. Gym close… uh, towel! You…” His hand shot up to cover his eyes, though the way his fingers splayed slightly made it less than effective. “ごめん! ごめん! (Sorry! Sorry!)”

You clutched the towel tighter, trying to will the heat away from your face. “It’s fine! I’m going to my room!”

He took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to give you space. “Right! Yes. Room. Good idea!” He turned his head, his voice dropping to a mutter in Japanese. “落ち着け、五条悟。(Calm down, Gojo Satoru.)”

You dashed into the guest room, shutting the door behind you with a quiet groan. Great. Just great. That wasn’t awkward at all.

By the time you emerged, fully dressed and slightly less mortified, Satoru was in the kitchen, his hair damp from what you assumed was a lightning-quick shower of his own. He was pouring coffee into two mugs, his movements unusually quiet.

“Good morning,” you said cautiously, your face still a little warm.

“Morning!” he said, his usual grin plastered across his face, though the faint pink on his ears betrayed his earlier embarrassment. “Coffee? I made some. Very good. You’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” you said, sliding onto one of the barstools.

He placed a mug in front of you, leaning on the counter as he watched you take a sip. “Better now?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him, confused. “Better?”

“You looked…” He hesitated, searching for the right word in English. “Uh… embarrassed? Before?”

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly looked away. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Me too,” he said with a laugh, though his tone was tinged with nervousness. He switched to Japanese, his words coming more easily. “でも、正直言って…少しドキドキした。(Honestly… it made my heart race a little.)”

You choked on your coffee, your eyes snapping to his as he grinned sheepishly. “What?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly, waving his hands in front of him like he could physically erase what he’d said. “Forget it! Stupid joke! Bad English!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out if he was serious or if his words had just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Either way, your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t quite meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

“So!” he said, clapping his hands together in a sudden burst of energy, his voice a little too loud. “Today, we go to bunch of places! We eat breakfast at my favorite cafe… and then we walk. A lot. I show you the university I work at! Very impressive.”

“The university?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” he said, leaning forward on the counter, his blue eyes sparkling again as he regained his usual confidence. “You see my office. Very cool. Best professor office in the whole building. And I give you tour!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You’re really proud of your office, huh?”

“Not just the office,” he said, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “The whole thing. Students love me. I’m very popular, you know.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

“Good!” he said, standing up straight and grabbing his phone. “Now, we go eat. I pick best breakfast spot. Trust me, you’ll love it. But… you ready?”

“Almost,” you said, glancing down at your still-damp hair. “I should probably finish drying this.”

He gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish, his grin wide. “Take your time! I wait. Very patient.”

Patient? Yeah, right. You shook your head as you disappeared back into the bathroom to finish drying your hair. Satoru wasn’t exactly the patient type—not with his energy or how often he seemed to invade your personal space without a second thought.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him—charming, funny, and total boyfriend material—was even single.

When you finally emerged, he was already at the door, holding it open for you like a perfect gentleman. Or at least, that’s what you thought until he casually reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You hold my hand, okay?” he said, his tone almost offhand as if it was no big deal. “Busy streets.”

You blinked down at your joined hands, your cheeks warming. “Uh… okay.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swore you caught the faintest tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he turned away, leading you toward the elevator. His grip was firm but careful, and he didn’t let go even as you stepped out onto the busy streets of Shibuya.

The cafe he chose was tucked away from the bustling main streets, a cozy spot that smelled of fresh bread and coffee the moment you stepped inside.

“Mmm, everything here is good,” he said confidently, gesturing to the menu as you both sat down at a small table near the window. “Pancakes are best!”

You glanced at the menu, noticing immediately that there was no English. The pictures helped, but you hesitated, your Japanese still a work in progress.

“No English menu,” he added, tapping the table with a satisfied grin. “But you can ask me. Anything. I translate for you.”

“Why do you sound so proud of that?” you teased, earning a laugh from him as he leaned back in his chair.

“I am very helpful,” he said, his grin widening. Then, his phone buzzed, and his expression shifted slightly as he checked his emails.

You watched him for a moment, noting how serious he looked when his attention was on the screen. He wasn’t the carefree, teasing Satoru you’d grown used to seeing—here, he seemed… important.

“Are you just a professor?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you as you scanned the menu, trying to decipher the items from the pictures and your limited knowledge of Japanese.

“Hmm?” He glanced up at you, setting his phone down as he leaned forward. “Mmm, yes… and no.” He shrugged, his tone lighter now. “I’m supposed to take over my family business soon.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Family business?”

He nodded, his grin softening slightly. “Big deal. Very annoying. Too much responsibility.”

“Then why do it?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because it’s… important. To them.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten, but before you could ask more, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Have to be married, though.”

That caught you off guard. “Married?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, taking a sip of his coffee like it was no big deal. “Part of the deal. No marriage, no… inheritance, I guess.”

You blinked at him, your brain racing. “Wait, so you’re… looking for someone?”

His lips quirked into a small, mischievous smile as he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Why? You interested?”

Your face went red immediately. “I didn’t say that!”

He laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Relax! Joke, joke. You’re too cute when you get embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure, sure,” he said, still grinning as he leaned forward again. “But really, I don’t think about it much. Right now… I’m happy. Here. With you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His blue eyes held yours, soft and warm, and you had to look away, focusing back on the menu to avoid the growing flutter in your chest.

“Pancakes,” you mumbled, your voice quieter now. “I’ll have the pancakes.”

Satoru chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Good choice. See? I knew you’d trust me.”

As he called over the waiter to place your orders, you couldn’t help sneaking another glance at him, your mind swirling with thoughts of what he’d just said. Married. Satoru. How does that even fit together?

But the moment passed quickly, his easy smile and lighthearted jokes pulling you back into the present. And as you sipped your coffee, you found yourself thinking that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being here with him a little longer.

The day passed in a blur of activity. True to his word, Satoru took you to his favorite places in Tokyo, showing you hidden gems you would never have found. From a tiny shrine tucked between buildings to a bustling street market filled with tempting food stalls, every stop felt more magical with him by your side.

At one point, he stopped to take a photo of you in front of a lantern-lined alley, insisting, “Memory! Very important!”

“You just want a new photo for your phone,” you teased as he held up his camera.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin wide. “But still cute, right?”

By the time the sun set, painting the city in hues of orange and pink, you were exhausted but happy. Satoru led you to a quiet park overlooking the skyline, where the two of you sat on a bench, sharing a bottle of water as the city lights began to twinkle below.

“You had fun today?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, glancing at him with a small smile. “Yeah. A lot of fun. Thanks, Satoru.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back and looking out at the view. His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… shy. “I’m glad.”

And as the quiet stretched between you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were—how this day felt like something out of a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

As the day began to wind down, Satoru’s energy remained as...boundless as ever. Seriously, how does he do it?

“For the final stop,” he announced proudly, hands in his pockets as he led you through yet another bustling Tokyo street, “we go somewhere very special. My second home.”

“Second home?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced back at you, his grin wide. “The university. You’ll see! I give you very special tour. Labs, classrooms, my office… very cool. You’ll be impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. “If you say so.”

The university campus was sprawling, with modern buildings mixed seamlessly with traditional Japanese architecture. Satoru walked you through it all, pointing out everything from his favorite vending machines to the quiet corners he claimed were the best for napping.

“This is where I teach,” he said as he led you into one of the classrooms. It was a sleek lecture hall, equipped with the latest technology. He hopped onto the desk at the front of the room, grinning down at you. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“You sit there like that when you’re teaching?” you teased, gesturing to his relaxed posture.

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “The students love it. I make science fun.”

“Of course you do,” you said, laughing as you playfully pushed him off.

Next, he took you to the labs, which were pristine and filled with high-tech equipment that made your head spin.

“This is where the real magic happens,” he said, gesturing broadly as he explained what some of the equipment was used for. His voice grew more serious as he talked about his research, his passion evident in every word.

You found yourself staring at him, not just listening to what he was saying but also noticing how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his work. He wasn’t just charming or playful—he was brilliant.

Finally, he led you to his office.

“This,” he said dramatically, pushing open the door, “is my kingdom.”

The room was neat and organized, with shelves lined with books, journals, and small trinkets. A large window offered a stunning view of the campus, and his desk was adorned with a few personal touches—a photo of him with what you assumed were his colleagues- one of which he seemed rather close to a man with long dark hair, a small model of a rocket, and a mug with a sarcastic science joke printed on it.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the walls, where several framed awards and certificates were displayed.

“You weren’t kidding,” you said softly, stepping closer to get a better look. “You really are impressive.”

Satoru, who had been leaning against the doorframe with his usual grin, straightened slightly at your words. “You think so?” he asked, his voice unusually quiet.

You turned to him, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, look at this. Awards, degrees… You’ve done so much.”

He scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Ah, it’s not a big deal. Just… work?”

“It is a big deal,” you insisted, smiling at him. “You’re really amazing, Satoru.”

He stared at you for a moment, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more vulnerable. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice sincere.

His grin returned, though it was softer now. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But…” He stepped closer, his blue eyes holding yours. He almost said something...but stopped tucking a hand into his pants pocket.

“Anyway!” he said suddenly, breaking the moment as he stepped back with a laugh, his ears tinged pink. “Enough about me. Let’s go! Dinner next! I show you another great spot.”

You blinked, the sudden shift leaving you momentarily dazed. “Uh… yeah. Sure.”

As you followed him out of the office, your thoughts raced. No matter how much he joked or teased, there was something unspoken between you—a warmth that lingered in the air, making every moment with him feel more significant than you wanted to admit.

“Actually… since I’m staying at your place for more than one night… why don’t I cook you dinner?”

Satoru froze mid-step, turning to look at you like you’d just suggested something outrageous. His usual grin faltered, his cheeks tinging pink as he muttered under his breath in Japanese, “ほんとに？(Really?)”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening into something almost shy. “You… cook for me? ありがとう。(Thank you.)”

The grocery store was a mix of playful banter and quiet touches.

Satoru’s hands lingered as the two of you walked through the aisles, occasionally brushing yours as he reached for items. Every now and then, he’d grab something off the shelf with an exaggerated flourish, holding it up as if it were a prize.

“This one,” he’d say in English, grinning like a kid. “Good choice, right?”

When it came time to pay, you insisted on covering the bill, refusing to let him even pull out his wallet.

“No way,” you said firmly, holding your ground.

“But I am host!” he whined, leaning his head against yours dramatically. “You can’t… uh, break tradition.”

“What tradition?” you teased, nudging him away.

“My tradition,” he muttered in Japanese, his tone half-serious. “君は頑固だね。(You’re stubborn.)”

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere shifted into something quieter, warmer.

The faint hum of your voice filled the kitchen as you worked, preparing one of your favorite comfort meals. Satoru sat at the dining table nearby, a stack of papers in front of him as he graded with a red pen. Occasionally, he’d glance up to watch you, his blue eyes soft as he listened to you hum.

At one point, without looking up from his papers, he spoke in Japanese, his tone low and thoughtful.

“君は僕の人生に光をもたらす。(You know, you bring so much light into my life.)”

You glanced at him briefly, thinking he was just talking to himself, and continued chopping vegetables.

He paused, his pen hovering over the paper, before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“僕は結婚しなければならないんだ。(I’m supposed to be getting married.)”

That made you stop. Your hands stilled as you turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the papers in front of him.

“Before you came here, before Chicago,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, “I went on one hundred and fifty-two dates.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you murmured, the word slipping out without thinking.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours. “People my family thought were… ‘worthy.’” He switched to English briefly, his tone flat. “Rich. Beautiful. Perfect. All fake.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to process his words.

“That night,” he said softly, his gaze distant now, “when you joined that server… I had just come back from another terrible date. Some woman only interested in money. Power.” He paused, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. “You see, in Japan, everybody knows who I am. But you… didn’t.”

His voice softened further, and he switched back to Japanese, the words carrying a raw honesty that made your chest ache.

“それが僕に特別な何かを感じさせた。(That made me feel… something special.)”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“When you texted me, ‘I paid the town rent! Welcome back!’” he said, switching seamlessly to English, his grin returning briefly. “It was stupid. Funny. But I needed that. Someone to play with. And then…” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “I started to fall for you.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

“I lied,” he admitted, his tone quiet and unsteady. “No conference in Chicago. I… I needed to see you. It was physically hurting me, wondering if I was falling for you or just… the idea of you.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in like stones.

“And now…” He gestured toward the room, his hand falling back to his lap as he looked at you with a raw, vulnerable expression. “This. You cooking. Me here. It feels so… domestic. Like it could be real.”

“Satoru,” you started, your voice trembling.

But he pressed on, his gaze locking onto yours, his next words spoken entirely in Japanese, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“僕は君に帰ってほしくない。(I don’t want you to go back.)” His voice cracked slightly as he added, “自分勝手になりたい。君を引き止めたい。(I want to be selfish. I want to keep you here.)”

Your chest felt tight, your breath shallow as Satoru’s words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. “僕にも夢があるんだよ。(Can’t you see? I have dreams too.)”

The faint sizzle of the stove was the only sound filling the room as you tried to steady your trembling hands, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You turned back to the pan, desperate to focus on something tangible, something that wouldn’t pull you deeper into the whirlwind of emotions his words had stirred.

“I…” you began, your voice faltering, the weight of everything catching in your throat.

Suddenly, you heard the scrape of his chair as he stood, his movements quiet but deliberate. A warmth radiated behind you, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine before you felt it—his arms wrapping carefully around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back.

You froze, your breath hitching as he nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and the tension in the air seemed to thrum louder.

In Japanese, his voice came low and trembling, each word slipping out as if it pained him to speak.

“もし君に結婚を申し込んだら、答えてくれる？(If I asked you to marry me, would you?)”

Your pulse quickened, but he didn’t stop, his voice cracking slightly as he continued.

“君の人生を捨てて、ここに移ってくれる？(Would you give up your life and move here?)”

You felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around you, his vulnerability pressing against your heart like a weight.

“そんなにわがままを言ってもいい？(Can I be that selfish to ask that of you?)”

Even though your grasp of Japanese wasn’t perfect, the emotion in his words was unmistakable. You didn’t need to understand every word to feel the raw desperation behind them.

And then you felt it—soft, warm tears that brushed against your neck.

Your chest ached at the realization. Someone so confident, so effortlessly charming, was crumbling in your arms.

“Satoru…” you said softly, your voice as gentle as you could manage. You placed the spatula down, turning the stove off as you carefully rested your hands over his. “Are you…?”

His grip didn’t loosen, and he didn’t lift his head. Instead, he whispered, his voice trembling, “Just… let me stay like this. A little longer… yes?”

Your heart clenched, and you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay,” you whispered.

For a while, the two of you stood there, enveloped in a quiet intimacy that felt far too fragile to break. His breathing slowed, and the tension in his arms softened, though he didn’t let go.

“I lied again,” he murmured finally, his voice still muffled against your shoulder.

“About what?” you asked, your own voice quiet, as if afraid to shatter the moment.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “When I said this was selfish… I meant it.” He hesitated, switching back to Japanese. “でも君に嘘をつくことはできない。(But I can’t lie to you.)”

His hands lingered at your waist as his lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m falling for you, Y/N. Actually… no. I already fell.”

Your breath caught, the words sinking in as your gaze held his.

“I thought I could just…” He trailed off, laughing weakly. “Keep it inside. Be cool. But I can’t. You make it impossible.”

You swallowed, your throat felt dry, unsure how to respond, your emotions swirling too fast to catch.

Satoru seemed to notice your hesitation, his hand brushing against your cheek gently. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice soft. “Not now. I just… needed to tell you.”

The air felt heavier as his words lingered between you. Finally, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and forcing a grin. “Dinner smells good,” he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held traces of vulnerability. “We eat, yeah? Before it burns?”

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat as you turned back to the stove, feeling the weight of his confession settle deep in your chest.

Dinner passed quietly, the usual playful banter replaced with soft glances and unspoken thoughts. Satoru tried his best to act normal, throwing in the occasional joke or complimenting your cooking, but you could feel the shift in the air—something had changed.

When the plates were cleared, and the kitchen was tidied, he lingered near the window, staring out at the city lights.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying a faint smile. “I used to think I had everything. Money, success, whatever. But now… it feels empty without you.”

You froze, the vulnerability in his words once again taking you by surprise.

He turned to you, his blue eyes soft but steady. “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting you to stay. But…” He chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to force you. I just want you to know… you’re welcome here. Always.”

“Satoru… I…” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Of course you hesitated—this handsome, wonderful human was being so raw, so honest, and you had no idea how to match that level of vulnerability. “I’ve never dated before, so… I don’t know how to react.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. His blue eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across his face. “You…?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks burning. “I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship. Ever.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do. This is all so new to me, and you’re just…” You gestured toward him vaguely. “You’re so you.”

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I know that’s probably weird to hear. I mean, look at you—you’ve probably had… a lot of experience.”

He blinked, and then, to your surprise, a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “A lot of…?” He switched to Japanese, muttering under his breath, “そんな風に見えるのか…(Do I really seem like that?)”

When you gave him a questioning look, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Okay, maybe I’ve had a few… dates,” he admitted, his voice hesitant, as though he was treading carefully. “But they didn’t mean anything. Not like this.”

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked up at him. “This?”

He nodded, stepping closer. “You. This… connection we have. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before.” His voice softened as he switched back to Japanese, his tone more earnest. “君といると、本当に生きていると感じる。(When I’m with you, I really feel alive.)”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his words, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through every defense you had. Tears threatened to spill as you stared at him, your chest tight and your thoughts swirling.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I… can I hold you tonight? You have the rest of the week left here, and if…” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes searching yours. “If anything, I’d want us to act like a couple. Even just for now. I want to know everything about you. I want you to be engraved in me because when you leave… I already know it’s going to hurt.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping as he muttered in Japanese, “行かないでほしい。(I don’t want you to leave.)”

The weight of his confession hung between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know it’s selfish,” he said, stepping closer, his hands twitching slightly as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “But I can’t help it. You’ve already taken over my thoughts. My dreams. And I—I don’t want to regret not telling you.”

It felt like you both kept going in circles.

Your chest felt impossibly tight, your heart pounding as the world seemed to blur around the edges. All you could see was him—the way his usually playful expression had softened, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the way his lips trembled ever so slightly as he waited for your response.

“You can kiss me,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “And you can hold me tonight.”

His breath hitched, his blue eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to push you—”

“I’m sure,” you said, stepping closer until you were just inches away from him. “I want this too.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours one last time for any sign of doubt. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his hands lifting to cup your face gently as if you were something delicate, precious.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft, tentative—like he was afraid of crossing some invisible line. But as the kiss deepened, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through you like fire.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered in Japanese, “君は本当に特別だ。(You’re truly special.)”

You didn’t have the words to respond, your emotions too overwhelming to articulate, so you just nodded, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

Later that night, the two of you sat on the couch, the city lights casting a warm glow through the windows. Satoru’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“This feels… nice,” he murmured, his voice soft as his fingers traced idle patterns along your arm.

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “It does.”

“I don’t want this week to end,” he admitted, his eyes flickering with something vulnerable again. “I don’t want you to end.”

You placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I don’t want this to end either. But…”

He tensed slightly at the word, his gaze sharpening as he looked at you. “But?”

“I don’t know how this works,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to leave and not feel like I’m leaving part of myself here with you.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, and he switched back to Japanese, his words quiet but resolute. “僕が君のところに行くよ。(Then I’ll come to you.)”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“I’ll come to you,” he repeated in English, his voice steady. “If you can’t stay… I’ll visit. As much as I can. Or maybe…” He hesitated, his lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. “Maybe you’ll come back here. For me.”

The idea made your heart flutter, the thought of him waiting for you, of building something that spanned the distance between you.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “Good. Because I’m not letting this end. Not yet.”

As the week unfolded, Satoru made sure to fill every moment with something, as if he was trying to show you that Japan could be your home.

He brought you to his family estate in Kyoto, a sprawling property steeped in history and tradition. As he guided you through the serene gardens and ornate halls, his playful demeanor softened, his pride in his heritage evident in the way he explained every detail.

“This,” he said, gesturing to a centuries-old stone lantern, “is where I used to hide when I was a kid. My mom would call for me, and I’d pretend I couldn’t hear her.”

“You sound like a handful,” you teased, earning a sheepish grin.

“I’m still a handful,” he admitted, nudging your shoulder. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

In Okinawa, he took you to the famous Churaumi Aquarium, where you marveled at the massive whale sharks gliding gracefully through the water.

“They’re amazing,” you whispered, your face pressed close to the glass.

“They are,” he agreed, though his gaze wasn’t on the tank but on you.

When you turned to look at him, you caught the softness in his expression, and your cheeks warmed. “Satoru, stop staring. You’re going to miss the sharks.”

“Hmm.” He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his lips. “I think I like my view better.”

He even took you to Disneyland, insisting on matching outfits—a pair of silly Mickey and Minnie sweatshirts that he picked out with way too much enthusiasm.

“You know people are staring, right?” you said as you walked through the park hand in hand.

“Let them,” he said, grinning as he adjusted the ears on your headband. “We look good. Best couple in the park.”

Each moment had been perfect, almost too perfect, and now, as you stood in the airport, the weight of goodbye threatened to crush you.

Satoru walked with you to the security gate, carrying your bag in silence. His usual grin was gone, replaced by an expression of heartbreak that you’d never seen on him before. His steps were slow, deliberate, as though dragging out every second could somehow delay the inevitable.

When you reached the gate, you turned to him, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you saw the raw emotion swirling in his pale blue eyes.

“Well,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it light, “this is it, huh?”

But Satoru didn’t laugh, didn’t tease you like he usually would. Instead, he dropped your bag by his feet and stepped forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to merge your soul with his.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please… stay.”

You froze, your chest aching as you felt him bury his face in the curve of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the dampness of his tears soaking into your shirt—it was too much.

“Satoru,” you said softly, your own tears starting to spill, “you know I can’t.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and trembling. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want you here.”

Your hands clutched the back of his hoodie, holding him as tightly as he held you, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

“I don’t want to leave either,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the sight of his tear-streaked face shattered what little composure you had left. His usually bright eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing away his tears. “You’re not saying goodbye,” you said, though the words felt like they were ripping you apart. “This isn’t goodbye, Satoru. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He shook his head, his hands tightening on your waist as if anchoring himself to you. “It’s not enough,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t want promises. I don’t want ‘someday.’ I just want you.”

Your tears spilled over, your vision blurring as you leaned your forehead against his. “I want you too,” you said, your voice trembling. “More than anything.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, clinging to each other like the world might fall apart if you let go.

Then you felt it—his hand slipping into his pocket. Before you could process what was happening, he took your left hand in his, his movements trembling but purposeful.

When he slid a delicate ring onto your finger, the perfect fit, your breath caught in your chest.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your heart pounding, “what are you doing?”

“Marry me,” he said, his voice raw and pleading. His blue eyes locked onto yours, shimmering with tears. “Not now, not tomorrow. Just… someday. Marry me. Please.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out as he continued, his voice cracking as he stumbled through the words.

“In Minecraft, we’ll put our beds together,” he said, a watery smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll get married in Stardew Valley, I'll buy the stupid ring recipe. I’ll move next to you in Animal Crossing—or I’ll just live in a stupid tent near your house. I don’t care how. I just… I want you to be mine.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Gojo Satoru, confident, brilliant, and larger than life, was standing here in front of you, completely vulnerable, begging for you to stay.

“I…” Your voice broke as you looked down at the ring, delicate and simple yet impossibly perfect. “You’re making this so hard, Satoru.”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “But I can’t stop. Not when it’s you. Please, just… think about it. Think about us.”

You nodded, your chest heaving with emotion as you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “I promise. And we’ll figure this out. I swear.”

When you pulled back, he placed a trembling hand on your cheek, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll wait,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “For as long as it takes. I’ll wait.”

With one last shaky inhale, you stepped back, your hand lingering in his before you forced yourself to turn away.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice trembling, and you stopped, looking back at him through tear-filled eyes.

He stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body shaking as he tried to keep it together. “Don’t forget me,” he said, his voice raw and desperate.

Your heart shattered at his words, and you nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. With a final, shaky smile, you turned and walked through the gate, your tears falling freely now as the distance between you grew.

But just before you disappeared into the crowd, you glanced back one last time.

Satoru was still standing there, his tear-streaked face illuminated by the harsh airport lights. 

You blew him a kiss and he grabbed it. A smile gracing his lips before he wiped his tears. 

This wasn’t goodbye, but it felt like it. 

[smilesession]

i've been mostly cloistered away from experiencing the "movie theater etiquette is dead" phenomenon because i 1. only see movies at the indie movie theater i work at and havent been to a corporate cinema in years 2. even then i only really see the least popular title screening at any given time and its often just me and my friends and friends of my friends in the room. and frankly sometimes my own friends are a little boorish but its again usually like a 20-person audience watching, like, Plan 9 from Outer Space and doing a little trolling. mostly the worst i experience comes from the fact that i clean the theater and people don't clean up after themselves because they're gross and lazy. everyone knows people are gross and lazy, they've always been so

but we're showing Nosferatu rn and suddenly had to face it: people don't know how the fuck to act. day after opening day, sold out theater, half the theater laughing at every beat. a dozen "what the fuck was funny about that?" moments. man lying still on the ground after vampire attack, and the crowd goes wild. what the fuck was funny about that? women in the row behind me holding a conversation the entire time, just nonstop banal commentary. "oh don't tell me they're gonna end it like that...ok yeah uhuh they did that" type of banal commentary directly beamed into my ear. sooo that just happened! type commentary the entire time unceasing. giggling and chatting on opening weekend of a highly awaited and, for better or for worse, serious movie.

a lot of people have been talking about the Nosferatu crowds being particularly bad and i think it's just a matter of contrast. a dead-serious movie about unstoppable, overwhelming dread and violence and everybody's laughing the whole time. willem dafoe delivers one line in a funny way in it i guess. one guy in front of me did this in an experience-ruining way at The Lighthouse when i saw it in theaters too so it's not a new thing wholly. i just don't get what the issue is or why so many adults are so fucking shamelessly immature. i saw Eyes Wide Shut last night and, again, two people behind me carried on conversation half the time. there are plenty of activities that aren't seeing a movie in public where you can sit and talk the entire time without ruining it for everybody. but i think there's like some kind of decline in theory of mind with people or something. can't fathom that other people are having a sensory, firsthand experience and can hear you, or just a lack of empathy and an assumption that other people's sensory, firsthand experiences don't matter as much as meeting your impulse to say some bullshit outwardly at every waking moment for fear of interiority

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny can you make me a chocolate cake with champagne served by mr.toto wolff please. Thank you for taking the order

bakery menu

if you want to submit your own order feel free! i've added additional items (prompts) so please take a look. as for this time, i've been waiting for a toto request. he's simply so dreamy, hahaha. but thank you for the prompt!!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, daddy kink (duh), size difference/kink (also duh), couch sex, lap sex, naked female/clothed male

toto noticed you in the kitchen, while that wasn't outside the realm of the usual. what he noticed was what you were wearing. what was white with logos all over, and what didn't fit you given your size difference?

yep, the jacket that toto wore to the track.

and you looked like you were about to get peanut butter all over it. silly little thing. you were currently in the kitchen trying to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to sate your sweet tooth.

you had stayed at home while he was at the track, it was far too hot today in monaco to sit around while a bunch of technical guys blabbered about upcoming races and what not. you preferred to face time your parents to see how they were doing. it had been a few months since you moved to monaco to be with toto.

it was quite the shock to your friends and family.

but now months later, you were in a routine with your (much) older boyfriend, happily going back to him on the couch with two sandwiches on your plate.

he chuckled and put an arm around you once you sat down, before he could say anything he was met with a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich being put in his face. "schatzi." he said, "i know i'm young at heart, but i think i'm a little too old for these."

"did you eat today, hübscher?"

he couldn't deny you, he replied, "i had breakfast."

"it's dinnertime, toto." you said as you continued to wave the sandwich in his face. that was what he liked about you. the spoiling with gifts was nice, but you cared for him.

you wanted what was best for him, as much as he wanted what was best for you. and while he could pay for nice clothes and a university education. you made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

he would say that the relationship was about equal.

"thank you, my love." he said as he took the half and took a bite into it.

you smiled at him and continued to eat happily. your legs draped over his. you loved being close to him. even acts like eating together felt intimate.

you soon finished one half of your sandwich before you leaned against him, the plate still in your hand "i missed you." you said, "i know that it's unfair for me to do so. one of us needs to work, but still."

he chuckled and took the plate out of your hands and put it on the table"i understand, my love. i've been thinking about you all day." he took one of your hands and led it down to his slacks. "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he said softly. his voice in your ear. he had put your hand on the front of his pants.

"you missed me that much, daddy?" you asked.

he nodded, "i think you forget how much i think about you. every second you're not in my arms. i am wondering how you're doing." he reached for you and pulled down the zipper of the jacket, "i wonder how much peanut butter you're getting on my clothes."

your eyebrows knitted together before you looked at the sleeves, "see. nothing. don't lie, toto." you scolded a little bit, which only made him laugh.

he chuckled and took the jacket off of you. then it was followed by the rest of your clothes. he however simply got his cock out of his slacks. he was fully dressed while you were pretty and naked.

such a special prize for him. he groaned softly when you sank on his impressive size. everything about toto was just simply so much bigger than you. he was well over a hear taller than you, his hands were big against your smaller body and his cock hit against all the right places!

and he loved how tiny you were. so easy to move around to his liking. a perfect little pet.

you moved your hips a little and made sweet noises. it was cute. but soon toto's hands were on your hips and he was starting to move you up and down his cock.

you liked when he took full control. it felt right for him to do so. you could feel the heart leaping in your chest as you were moved up and down his cock.

you felt warm all over as you clung to your sugar daddy and lover. you kissed him passionately as you moved against him. your noises were so sweet, even down to your heavy pants.

his cock rubbed up against the furthest parts of you. it made your gut grow hot as you felt the buzz of pleasure in your brain. this felt amazing, it made it hot all over.

"toto... daddy." you panted.

"i know, good girl. you do so good for me. always." he kissed you once more as he started to pick up the pace with you. his cock was snug in between your legs.

he felt like home, all the way to the laundry detergent he used.

"i'll always be good for you." you whimpered.

he sighed contently, "good, good. i love to hear that." he picked up the pace of his hands on your hips. he bullied his cock into your sweet, gummy cunt. he loved the feeling of it around him.

he whispered sweet praises in german, you could only pick up on the tone he carried in his voice rather than the words. you managed to pick up a string of praise about how perfect you were.

"daddy, ah!" you gasped.

"good girl, such a good girl. all mine." he purred.

you came first. you held onto your daddy and let toto move your hips up and down his cock. you rested against him and let him move you to his liking.

he cursed under his breath in a language you couldn't make out before he spurted his cum into you. you felt warm all over at the thought of him marking your insides. you still held onto him and panted.

"toto... daddy." you moaned. it all felt so good through your body.

he slowed down until he got to a full stop. you rested against his broad chest and let him relax into the couch and wrap his arms around. he kissed your sweaty hair and let his cock rest in for a moment.

you placed a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, "maybe tomorrow i'll come to the track with you. so you don't miss me too much."

he chuckled and said, "yes, it's almost race day and i need my good luck charm. my little schatzi." he said with a tinge of affection. he kissed your head lovingly.

you felt safe in his arms, however the activity made your stomach grumble. you looked up at him and he looked down at you. you said softly, "can you get me the other half of the sandwich, please."<3