#and i'm just curious to what it would be like

[n0rmal-cat]

idk why im so curious but i just need to know how the aliens would react to reader getting their period! did it maybe go away in space for whatever reason, or do they just understand it?

thank you as they’re all very fun to read *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Alien x pet readers- what’s a period?

[Very very good questions love it with them.]

[In a case where reader does have a period I think the both of them would be a little shocked at first but all reader has to do is explain “it’s a human thing” ]

Reader wakes up in the morning ready to start the day, that is until they feel it “shit…”

They walk up to leader as they eat breakfast, “leader, I need new clothes”

They smile “of course let me-why are you red?!” They quickly pick reader up and start inspecting them.

“A-are you not in pain?!”

“I mean kinda? It’s not a big deal”

Their eyes start to water “whenever you say something isn’t a big deal it is!”

Reader sighs “it’s just my period, it’s normal”

“Period? Period of what”

“Just gimme new clothes and then I’ll tell you! Damn”

After getting reader in their custom made bath robe. “So humans just do that?”

“I mean yeah it’s kinda shit, and I wish someone would just stab me once and a while instead, but hey what you gonna do”

They shrug.

“So you’ll be in constant pain for a week?” They asked folding readers clothes “would you like me to see if we have anything on the ship that could help”

“I would rather die then put anything in my body right now”

They pet readers head gently “alright buddy, what would you like to do then” they ask

Reader pulls them by the fluff “I need you to hold me and not put be down all day ever”

“Ok honey…”

A few hours later leader continued on with their day.

“You two seem to be spending a lot of time together today” their husband smiles at the two of them.

“It’s their period”

“period of what?”

“I'm going to explain something to you but promise me you won’t freak out, they are fine”they keep readers' heads close.

“I don’t freak out”

There was silence in the room as they started to explain what exactly a period was.

“Thank you for this information dear, for unrelated reasons I need to step out the room”

He cry’s while hugging the both of you all night.

Art undercut

I couldn’t find my brush!!💀

You guys don’t have to think of them like that at all and hey maybe you don’t like them, thats fine. Continue seeing them how you always did :)👍

Leader is the purple one and their husband is the green one. I feel like reader physically can’t pronounce their names so they would give the two nicknames.

Leader would be like- Garden

And their husband is just- Watermelon

They don’t mind :)

[kxsagi]

ok i'm literally about to rip my head off instg. I'm asking because I LOVE your writing, but does anyone remember a ff with Kaiser with multiple trigger warnings (no NSFW) with reader who ran away from home and met him while she was rummaging through the garbage for food? That was the lore or something like that, ISTG I'M GOING INSANE BECAUSE I WAS STARTING TO LOVE IT AND IF SOMEONE CAN FIND IT I MIGHT MARRY THEM. Please let's help each other 🙏

“𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐩”

a/n: girl i’mma be so honest… i have no idea which fic this is and i’ve never read it 😭

but since you really wanna find it… and i like the plot idea… i figured i would write my own version

but if anyone finds the original, pls comment or message me their @ so i can tag them and credit them! 

(art credits go to jinxx_yu on X)

tw: child neglect, poverty, homelessness, implied abuse, food insecurity, emotional distress

you’re ten when you meet him. and you haven’t eaten in two days. 

it’s early morning, still foggy with dew, and the back alley behind the bakery is quiet, save for the soft rustle of your hands digging through the bin. you’re small enough to go unnoticed, quick enough to run if you’re not. but your legs feel heavy today. slow. your stomach cramps with every movement, and your fingers are shaking so bad you almost drop the stale muffin you find. 

you’re about to shove it into your mouth when a voice says, “hey.” 

you spin around, heart in your throat. 

a boy stands there. not much older than you. probably your age, even. but taller. sharper. he’s not wearing a shirt, just black sweatpants a little too big for his slim figure. he doesn’t look scared. doesn’t look mean, either. just curious. 

you narrow your eyes. “what do you want?” 

he remains calm, hands resting in his pockets. “nothing. just… i come here, too.” 

you blink. “to… dig?” 

he shrugs. “sometimes they throw out the ones that are only a little old. if you get here early enough, they’re not soggy yet.” 

you stare at him for a beat. and then you look down at the muffin in your hand. 

“… you want half?” you offer, quiet. 

he’s shocked. you’re too bright for someone living like this. 

“you serious?” 

you break the muffin in two, handing him the bigger half. 

“you’re weird,” he says, taking it. 

“so are you.” 

the two of you sit on the curb, eating in silence. crumbs fall into your laps. he tells you his name is michael, but he says it with an accent (mee-kha-el) and then adds, “but i prefer kaiser.” 

“why?” you ask. 

he shrugs again. “just… sounds cooler.” 

you snort. “okay, kaiser.” 

he grins a little, and it makes your chest feel warm. 

you learn a lot about him that morning. like how he hates the rain because of how fast it soaks his already-worn-out shoes. and how his dad makes everything he does a punishment. how sometimes he climbs on top of the bus stop just to feel above it all. 

you tell him you ran away because home didn’t feel like home. you don’t give details in the moment. you don’t need to. he doesn’t ask. 

“we’re kinda the same,” he says, picking at a loose thread on his waistband. “like… like nobody wanted us. so we had to want ourselves.” 

you glance at him. it’s the first time anyone’s ever said something like that to you. something that feels true. 

you nod. “yeah. we have to be our own people.” 

he holds out a pinky. “so let’s promise.” 

“promise what?” 

“that we’ll find a way out. not just survive. like… really live. better than them. better than this.” 

your throat burns. not from hunger this time. 

you hook your pinky with his. “promise.” 

𐙚

years later, you’re standing in the world’s loudest stadium. confetti rains gold. his name echoes across the world. 

but michael kaiser only sees you. 

you’re at the edge of the field, eyes glassy, mouth trembling with a smile. the same way you looked when you shared half a muffin with him behind a bakery all those years ago. 

he doesn’t hesitate, he jumps the barrier, running straight into your arms. 

“we made it,” he breathes, medal warm between your chests. 

you nod, laughing through tears. “yeah. from trash bins to trophies.” 

he kisses you like a promise kept. 

and when he lifts the world cup over his head, he looks at the cameras, the crowds, the sky, but smiles only at you. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

This is a really interesting way to look at the way the US does things. Not wrong about the 'divine rights of president' and 'youre not my father' loyalty examples at all.

I thought the security was because there are people forever trying to influence or kill politicians, especially the president, but maybe it's just pompous.

Couple things I'm not sure of, security-wise, and please call me out if this is ignorant:

How much is the Australian federal (?) government expected to handle for their politicians compared to state and local governments? For example: A US governor or mayor doesn't get the same level of protection as the US president, but they do get some level of it.

Jumping off that, someone blew up the US Pennsylvania State Governor's mansion. What would an attack (of any sort) mean for any security given to or employed by a politician? That happening to the US President would send the surrounding area into, like, ultimate lockdown and mess up traffic patterns and everything else for months. Multiple law enforcement agencies wou. Even what happened in Pennsylvania, US guaranteed the Penn US state police oversaw the investigation. I believe it'd be similar if not the ame for a mayor.

Derin, specifically, your stepdad got the personal number of a politician? I think even a mayor's displayed phone number would redirect to their office and you would get a politely-worded email of "back off" or worse because someone would know that you tried to "circumvent the process." Or just a form letter. People aren't always that competent.

I get if the answers aren't readily available or if they're immediately obvious, I'm just curious. Not gonna get pissed if I don't get an answer.

He's right we're just like this.

[ghstyles]

A-Plus | FWFW Extra

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WC: 4.2k

Summary: Harry being the perfect boyfriend Husband

FWFW Masterlist

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The September morning dawned crisp and clear, sunlight streaming through the partially opened curtains of the master bedroom. Y/N stirred first, consciousness gradually returning as she registered the weight of Harry's arm draped across her waist, his steady breathing warm against the back of her neck.

Today was her first day of university classes after deferring her education for far too long. Excitement and anxiety tangled in her stomach as she carefully extracted herself from Harry's embrace, trying not to wake him.

Too late. His arm tightened slightly around her middle, pulling her back against his chest.

"Where d'you think you're going?" he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Y/N smiled, turning in his arms to face him. "Some of us have classes to get to, Mr. Styles. We can't all be world-famous musicians who sleep until noon."

Harry cracked one eye open, hair tousled and face creased from the pillow. "It's only seven. Your first lecture isn't until nine-thirty."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my schedule?"

"Because I pay attention," he replied simply, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. "Fine, go get ready. But don't leave without saying goodbye."

Y/N showered quickly, wrapping herself in one of the plush towels that had appeared in her bathroom after she'd casually mentioned liking them at a hotel during one of their dates. When she emerged from the ensuite, she was surprised to find the bedroom empty, the scent of coffee and something delicious wafting up from downstairs.

Curious, she dressed in the outfit she'd carefully selected the night before, dark jeans, a cream-colored sweater, and ankle boots that were stylish yet practical for navigating the sprawling university campus.

Downstairs, she found Harry in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-hanging sweatpants as he moved between the stove and the counter. His back was to her, giving Y/N a perfect view of the muscles working beneath his tattooed skin as he flipped something in a pan.

"What's all this?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen.

Harry turned, a smile breaking across his face. "First day breakfast," he explained, gesturing to the spread he'd prepared. "My mum always made me a proper breakfast on the first day of school. Said it was important to start with a full stomach."

Y/N's heart squeezed at the casual mention of family tradition. They'd been carefully navigating the topic of Harry's mother, Anne's hostility toward Y/N remained a painful subject, one that had caused multiple arguments early in their reconciliation. The fact that Harry would share this positive memory felt significant.

The kitchen island was set with plates of fresh fruit, yogurt with granola, and the avocado toast that Harry was now sliding from the pan onto a waiting plate.

"You didn't have to do all this," Y/N said, even as she moved to sit at one of the barstools.

"Wanted to," Harry replied simply, setting a mug of coffee in front of her, prepared exactly as she liked it, with a splash of oat milk and no sugar. "Big day deserves a proper send-off."

Y/N took a sip of the coffee, watching as Harry arranged the food on her plate with surprising care.

"You're being very... boyfriend-y this morning," she observed, amusement coloring her voice.

Harry looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Is that a complaint?"

"Not at all," Y/N assured him quickly. "Just an observation."

Harry slid onto the stool beside her, his own coffee steaming in front of him. "Well, observe this: I'm proud of you. Starting university is a big deal, especially after everything you've been through."

His sincerity caught her off guard. Y/N ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the perfectly toasted bread on her plate.

"Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the morning sun casting golden light across the kitchen counters. As Y/N finished her toast, Harry cleared his throat.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching across the island to retrieve a small gift bag she hadn't noticed earlier.

Y/N eyed it suspiciously. "Harry..."

"It's nothing extravagant," he promised, pushing the bag toward her. "Just a little first-day present."

Hesitantly, Y/N reached into the bag and pulled out a sleek leather-bound planner, her initials embossed in gold on the cover. When she opened it, she found that Harry had already entered her class schedule, along with important dates for the semester.

"I know you prefer writing things down instead of using your phone," he explained, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "There's something else too."

Y/N reached into the bag again and found a small velvet box. Inside was a delicate silver pendant, a tiny book charm suspended on a fine chain.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, lifting it from the box.

Harry took it from her fingers, motioning for her to turn so he could fasten it around her neck. "The book seemed appropriate," he said as he worked the clasp. "For my brilliant scholar."

The pendant settled perfectly at the hollow of her throat, catching the light when she turned back to face him.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up to touch the charm. "It's perfect."

Harry's eyes softened as he watched her. "You're going to be amazing today," he told her, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "Those professors won't know what hit them."

Y/N laughed, some of her earlier anxiety dissolving under his confidence. "I hope so. It's been a while since I've been in a classroom."

"Trust me," Harry said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the smartest person I know. They don’t stand a chance."

After breakfast, Y/N gathered her things, the new planner tucked safely into her bag alongside her laptop and notebooks. Harry had disappeared upstairs to shower, returning just as she was preparing to leave.

"I thought I'd drive you," he offered, now dressed in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, his cross necklace glinting at his throat. "First day and all that."

Y/N hesitated. While their relationship had become public knowledge after their reconciliation, Harry's presence on campus would inevitably cause a stir.

Harry seemed to read her thoughts. "I'll be incognito," he promised, grabbing a beanie and sunglasses from the entryway table. "Just a regular bloke dropping his wife at school."

The casual use of 'wife', not for appearances or legal technicalities, but as a simple statement of fact, warmed Y/N from the inside out. Their marriage, once a business arrangement, had somehow transformed into something real, something cherished.

"Alright then," she agreed, shouldering her bag. "But if we get mobbed by your adoring fans, I'm leaving you to fend for yourself."

Harry grinned, opening the front door for her. "Deal."

True to his word, Harry kept a low profile during the drive, baseball cap pulled low and sunglasses in place despite the early hour. He insisted on walking her to the building where her first lecture would be held, carrying her bag as they navigated the historic campus.

At the entrance, he handed back her bag, then cupped her face in his hands. "You've got this," he said firmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Text me when you're done? I'll pick you up."

Y/N nodded, touched by his support. "Thank you for all this," she said, gesturing vaguely to encompass breakfast, the gifts, the ride.

Harry smiled, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes above his sunglasses. "Get used to it," he told her, stealing a quick kiss before stepping back. "This is just the beginning."

As Y/N watched him walk back toward the parking lot, baseball cap and white t-shirt making him look like any other young man rather than an international superstar, she felt a surge of affection so strong it nearly took her breath away.

This version of Harry, supportive, thoughtful, proud, was a revelation compared to the cold, distant man she'd first married. The transformation still surprised her sometimes, though she was gradually coming to understand that this was who Harry had always been beneath the walls their arrangement had built between them.

With one last glance at his retreating figure, Y/N turned and entered the building, ready to begin this new chapter of her life with Harry's unwavering support behind her.

·𖥸·

Three weeks into the semester, Y/N found herself buried under a mountain of readings and assignments. The transition back to academics had been more challenging than she'd anticipated, particularly in her Victorian literature seminar where the professor seemed determined to assign more reading than was humanly possible to complete.

It was nearly midnight when she finally closed her laptop, rubbing her tired eyes as she leaned back in the chair at her desk in the guest house. Though she now spent most nights in Harry's bed in the main house, she'd maintained the guest house as a study space, finding it easier to focus away from the distractions of their shared home.

Her phone buzzed with a text message:

Still awake over there? I can see your light.

Y/N glanced toward the window, where indeed her desk lamp would be visible from the main house. She smiled, typing back:

Just finished. Coming to bed soon.

Harry's response came immediately:

Need anything? Tea? Snack? Shoulder massage from your very talented boyfriend?

Y/N laughed at his use of "boyfriend", a running joke between them since her observation on her first day of classes. Despite being legally married, they'd tacitly agreed that they were emotionally somewhere between dating and truly married, rebuilding their relationship from the ground up.

A shoulder massage sounds heavenly, but I'll settle for you being awake when I get there.

I make no promises. Some of us have been up since 5am for studio time.

As Y/N gathered her books and notes, she felt a pang of guilt. Harry had been in the recording studio all day, working on his new album. He should be exhausted, yet he was still waiting up for her.

The main house was quiet when she entered, most of the lights already turned down low. She found Harry in the bedroom, propped up against the headboard with his reading glasses perched on his nose, a dog-eared paperback in his hands.

"Hey," he said, looking up with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "How's the essay coming?"

Y/N dropped her bag by the door and crawled onto the bed beside him, immediately curling into his side. "Slowly," she admitted. "Victorian literature is not as exciting as one might hope."

Harry chuckled, setting his book aside to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Wait, are you saying that reading about repressed people wearing too many clothes in rainy weather isn't thrilling?"

Y/N poked him in the ribs, earning a theatrical wince. "It could be fascinating with the right professor. Unfortunately, Dr. Mitchell has all the charisma of wet cardboard."

"Poor baby," Harry sympathized, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Want me to have a word with him? I could show up to your next lecture and request a more dynamic teaching style."

The mental image of Harry Styles sauntering into her Victorian literature seminar to critique the professor's teaching methods made Y/N laugh out loud.

"I'm sure that would go over well," she said, shaking her head. "Harry Styles: Grammy-winning musician and educational consultant."

Harry grinned, clearly pleased to have made her laugh. "I contain multitudes," he said loftily.

Y/N yawned, the late hour and mental exhaustion finally catching up to her. "You certainly do," she agreed, her eyes growing heavy. "How was the studio today?"

Harry began to tell her about the new song they'd been working on, his fingers absently playing with her hair as he spoke. The gentle motion, combined with the low rumble of his voice, was rapidly lulling Y/N toward sleep.

"I'm losing you, aren't I?" Harry observed after a few minutes, amusement coloring his tone.

Y/N hummed noncommittally, too comfortable to move. "M'listening," she murmured, though her eyes had drifted closed.

She felt Harry shift, turning off the bedside lamp before sliding down to lie beside her properly. He pulled the covers over both of them, then gathered her close against his chest.

"Sleep," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You've got another early class tomorrow."

Y/N wanted to thank him, for waiting up, for understanding her exhaustion, for being so consistently supportive, but sleep was already pulling her under, Harry's steady heartbeat against her ear the last thing she registered before drifting off.

·𖥸·

The next morning, Y/N woke to an empty bed and the smell of fresh coffee. A glance at the clock showed it was just after seven, early, but not unreasonably so for a class day.

Curious, she padded downstairs in her sleep shorts and one of Harry's t-shirts to find him in the kitchen, fully dressed and busy at the counter.

"You're up early," she observed, accepting the mug of coffee he immediately handed her.

Harry smiled, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. "Couldn't sleep," he explained, returning to whatever he was doing at the counter. "Thought I'd make myself useful."

Peering around him, Y/N saw he was assembling what appeared to be lunch, a sandwich, fruit, and some of the homemade biscuits he'd baked over the weekend, all being carefully packed into a brown paper bag.

"What's all this?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Packed lunch," he said, as though it should be obvious. "You mentioned you don't have time to get proper food between your literature seminar and your history lecture on Thursdays."

Y/N stared at him, momentarily speechless. She had indeed complained about the tight schedule once, maybe two weeks ago, in passing. The fact that Harry had not only remembered but had taken it upon himself to solve the problem sent a wave of affection through her.

"You made me lunch," she said, processing the simple yet profound gesture.

Harry shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed by her reaction. "It's just a sandwich," he said, folding the top of the bag. "Nothing fancy."

Y/N set her coffee down and moved to wrap her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. "It's perfect," she told him, squeezing gently. "Thank you."

Harry turned in her embrace, his hands settling at her waist. "You start that Victorian essay yet?" he asked, changing the subject.

Y/N groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Don't remind me. It's due Monday and I've barely outlined it."

"What's it on again?"

"Symbolism in Jane Eyre," Y/N replied with a grimace. "Which would be fine if I'd had time to actually finish reading Jane Eyre."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I thought you said you finished it last weekend?"

"I meant to," Y/N sighed. "But then we had that dinner with your band, and Sunday was so nice we went for that walk instead, and then this week has been non-stop with readings for all my other classes..."

Harry looked thoughtful, his thumb absently tracing circles at her hip. "What if I read it to you?"

Y/N blinked, not sure she'd heard correctly. "What?"

"The book," Harry clarified. "What if I read it to you? You could listen while you're doing other things, cooking, showering, whatever. Might help you get through it faster."

The offer was so unexpectedly sweet that Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. The image of Harry, international music icon, offering to read a Victorian novel aloud to help with her homework was almost comically endearing.

"You'd do that?" she asked, knowing her surprise was evident in her voice.

Harry looked slightly offended. "Course I would," he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I've got a decent reading voice, or so I've been told. And it's not like I haven't read Jane Eyre before."

That caught Y/N off guard. "You've read Jane Eyre?"

Harry's lips quirked in amusement. "Don't look so shocked. I did go to school, you know. And contrary to what the tabloids might have you believe, I do occasionally read books that aren't about rock stars and their excesses."

Y/N laughed, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him properly. "Harry Styles, you continue to surprise me," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled into the kiss, then pulled back slightly. "Is that a yes to the reading offer?"

"It's a definite yes," Y/N confirmed. "Though I warn you, there are several hundred pages left."

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "We'll start tonight," he decided. "After dinner. Now go get dressed or you'll be late."

·𖥸·

True to his word, Harry began reading Jane Eyre to Y/N that evening, his deep voice bringing the characters to life in a way that made the story far more engaging than Dr. Mitchell's dry lectures. They established a routine, after dinner, they would settle in the library, Harry reading aloud while Y/N either followed along in her own copy or worked on notes for other classes.

The packed lunches became a Thursday tradition, with Harry gradually becoming more elaborate in his preparations. By the third week, he was including handwritten notes, sometimes encouraging messages for a difficult class, sometimes just silly jokes or song lyrics that had made him think of her.

On particularly long days, Y/N would sometimes return home to find Harry had run her a bath, complete with the lavender oil she loved, a glass of wine waiting on the edge of the tub.

"You don't have to keep doing all this, you know," she told him one evening as they lay in bed, her head on his chest while he idly played with her hair. "The lunches, the baths, the reading..."

Harry's hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle motion. "Do you not want me to?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow to look at him properly. "That's not it at all," she assured him. "I love it. I just don't want you to feel obligated."

Harry's expression softened, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "I don't feel obligated," he said simply. "I like taking care of you. I like knowing I've made your day a little better or easier."

The sincerity in his eyes made Y/N's heart swell. "You certainly succeed at that," she told him, leaning into his touch. "I just want to make sure you know I'd love you even without all the extra stuff."

Harry's smile grew even wider, if that were possible. While they've exchanged these words, eah time felt like the first . "Say it again," he requested, both hands now framing her face.

Y/N laughed, the sound slightly watery as unexpected emotion welled up. "I love you."

In one swift movement, Harry pulled her down to him, capturing her lips in a kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't, joy, relief, reciprocation.

"I love you too," he murmured when they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless. "God, Y/N, I love you so much."

Y/N settled back against his chest, a contentment she'd never thought possible filling her completely. "So the boyfriend things can continue?" she asked, her tone deliberately light despite the significance of what had just passed between them.

She felt Harry's chuckle rumble beneath her cheek. "The boyfriend things will definitely continue," he assured her. "Though I was thinking maybe we could start calling them husband things instead."

Y/N smiled, pressing a kiss to the spot above his heart. "Husband things it is."

·𖥸·

As midterm season approached, Y/N's workload intensified dramatically. The kitchen table in the main house became command central for her studies, books and notes spread across its surface in organized chaos. Harry respected her need for space and quiet, often working on his music in the guest house to avoid disturbing her concentration.

One particularly stressful evening, as Y/N struggled with a particularly complex theoretical text for her literary criticism course, the front door opened and closed quietly. She barely registered Harry's presence until a cup of tea appeared at her elbow, followed by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"How's it going?" he asked, keeping his voice low as though they were in a library.

Y/N sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. "Slowly," she admitted. "This theorist writes like he's being paid by the syllable. I've read this paragraph four times and I still don't know what he's trying to say."

Harry peered over her shoulder at the dense text, his brow furrowing. "Christ, that's impenetrable," he agreed after a moment. "Want me to help?"

Y/N looked up at him, skepticism clear in her expression. "No offense, love, but literary theory isn't exactly your area of expertise."

Harry pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Excuse you, I'll have you know I got top marks in English at school."

"Somehow I doubt your GCSE English covered post-structural feminist literary theory," Y/N replied dryly, though she couldn't help but smile at his indignation.

Harry conceded with a shrug. "Fair point. But I can still help."

"How?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

Instead of answering directly, Harry disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a plate of sliced apples and cheese. "First, sustenance," he said, setting the plate beside her tea. "Second, I can quiz you."

Before Y/N could protest that she wasn't ready to be quizzed, Harry had picked up her flash cards, settling into the chair opposite her. "Let's see what we've got here," he mused, flipping through the cards. "Ah, here we go. Define 'intertextuality' according to Kristeva."

Y/N stared at him blankly for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Your pronunciation was atrocious," she informed him, reaching for a slice of apple. "But fine, since you're so eager to help..."

For the next hour, Harry quizzed her on literary theories and concepts, his genuine interest in her studies evident in the follow-up questions he asked. By the time they'd gone through all the flash cards, Y/N felt significantly more prepared for her upcoming exam.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, gathering the cards into a neat stack. "That actually helped a lot."

Harry smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Happy to be useful," he told her. "Even if my pronunciation is 'atrocious.'"

Y/N laughed, turning her hand to interlace their fingers. "It was the thought that counted."

"Well, I have one more thought," Harry said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's nearly midnight, and you have an eight AM lecture tomorrow. Time for bed."

Y/N looked at the stack of readings still waiting for her attention, hesitating.

Harry, reading her reluctance, shook his head firmly. "Nope. No arguments. You need sleep more than you need to read another impenetrable paragraph. The books will still be here tomorrow."

Knowing he was right, Y/N allowed herself to be led upstairs, Harry's arm around her waist providing a much-needed support after hours hunched over her books.

As they prepared for bed, moving around each other in the familiar dance of their nighttime routine, Y/N found herself overwhelmed with gratitude for this man who had become not just her lover, but her biggest supporter.

"Thank you," she said suddenly, pausing in the middle of removing her earrings.

Harry looked up from where he was setting his watch on the nightstand. "For what?"

"Everything," Y/N replied simply. "The tea, the quizzing, making me go to bed at a reasonable hour... just all of it."

Harry crossed the room to stand behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "You don't need to thank me for that," he said softly. "That's what people do when they love someone, they take care of them."

Y/N leaned back against his chest, covering his hands with her own where they rested on her stomach. "Well, you're very good at it," she told him. "The taking care part."

Harry pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his eyes still holding hers in the mirror. "I had a lot of time to think about what I'd do differently if I ever got a second chance with you," he admitted quietly. "Being supportive was at the top of the list."

The confession, so honest and vulnerable, made Y/N's heart ache with love for him. She turned in his arms, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him properly.

"You're doing an excellent job," she assured him when they broke apart. "A-plus boyfriend behavior."

Harry smiled against her lips, his hands sliding down to her hips. "Husband," he corrected gently. "A-plus husband behavior."

Y/N nodded, her own smile matching his. "A-plus husband behavior," she agreed, allowing him to lead her to their bed, tomorrow's early lecture temporarily forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

As she drifted off to sleep later, Harry's arm a comforting weight around her waist, Y/N marveled at the journey that had brought them here, from a cold business arrangement to a love so genuine it sustained them both. Their beginning might have been unconventional, their path rocky, but the destination had proven worth every difficult step.

·𖥸·

a/n: I need him so much . It's not even funny anymore

Taglist: @mysunflowerposts@lydiasfalling@panini@ell0ra-br3kk3r@donutsandpalmtrees@sunshinemoonsposts@angeldavis777@fangirl509east@maudie-duan@indierockgirrl@harryssunflower17@lizsogolden@daphnesutton@spinninc@behindmygreyeyes@wheredidmyeyesgo@matildasatellite@drewrry@inlikea-coolway@jerseygirlinca@nosebeers

[monster-disaster]

The bite marks and back scratch marks made me twirl my hair. lol!

Got me thinking what type of monster marriage rituals you think exist?

For humans we got the dresses, rings, and walking down the aisle, so I’m curious to know what other things the monster groom would have the human bride do?

Uh, I love this! I think there are a bunch of rituals that aren’t so common nowadays, they got forgotten, mixed in with human or other monster traditions, but there are still a few that stuck around.

(I'm rambling, and I'm extra sorry for my English.)

WOLF-SHIFTERS are pack creatures, always have been. The need for big families, close-knit communities, and strong bonds is basically in their DNA, so when a couple decides to get married, it’s not just about them tying the knot, it’s about welcoming a new packmate too (shifter or not). It’s a celebration of love, yes, but also of belonging. It’s loud, joyful, and a little wild. And because shifters blended into human society pretty easily over the centuries (thanks to their human forms), their wedding rituals look familiar, just a little more untamed if you look closer. No one is surprised by the bunch of unruly pups darting between chairs, howling and growling, or when wolves start wrestling in the grass after everything is said and done. Most weddings happen outside for that exact reason. Nature feels more like home. Forest clearings, fields full of wildflowers, anywhere with sky and space and soft ground to shift on. And look, it’s nothing new, but shifters don’t do distance. They stick close to their partners the whole day. The groom is (let's stay with monster!groom and human!bride, but it's true with two grooms or two brides too) not standing at the altar with some polite distance between him and his bride. Oh no. He is at her side every second he can be, brushing against her, scenting her, pressing soft kisses to her cheek or the side of her neck. He is all over her. And would it be cliché to bring a chasing kink into this? Maybe. But let’s be honest, that’s probably one of the oldest wedding-night traditions out there in shifter culture. It’s not just a kink, it’s a ritual. If the bride still has the energy to run, the shifter is more than happy to chase her under the stars. To catch her, pin her down gently in the moss, and make her his with the moon watching above. It’s playful, sacred, and a little primal, exactly the way they like it. _

In the past, I think ORC wedding rituals used to stretch on for days, sometimes even weeks. It wasn’t just about the ceremony, it was a whole event, all about proving devotion and strength. The orc bride or groom would show off in every way they could to prove they could take care of their partner. Hunting, crafting, fighting, cooking, whatever their skills were, they put it all on display. And when the big day finally came, the whole clan gathered around. It looked like a human wedding in some ways, but instead of exchanging rings, they used jewelry or (more often) handmade beads and decorative trinkets braided into each other’s hair. It didn’t have to be fancy, what mattered was that it was made with love and effort.

Nowadays, the showing-off ritual is kind of mixed into day-to-day relationships. When it comes to the wedding itself, they will absolutely still make or give their loved one hair accessories, and they will braid it into each other’s hair during the ceremony. Handmade is best, always. It’s not about the price, it’s about the meaning behind it.

Orc weddings can be just as rowdy as wolf-shifter ones, but the energy is different. The party is more focused on celebrating the couple. There’s always music, dancing, and tons of food, but they also have games and little competitions.

In the old days, the party ended for the couple when the groom would just toss his partner over his shoulder and carry them off into the night, literally stealing them away. It was dramatic and bold and got the whole crowd cheering, but now, things are a bit more equal. It’s not a rare sight to see the bride slyly luring her husband away when no one is looking, tugging him by the hand into the shadows with a mischievous grin that tells the orc everything he needs to know about the night ahead of him. _

With MINOTAURS, it was always more intimate and still is. Their weddings aren’t flashy or overly complicated. They’re the kind of gatherings where everyone pitches in. Family and friends cook, decorate, gather flowers, and set up the place. It's about creating something together.

Don’t get me wrong, minotaurs can absolutely be loud and love a good party, but their wedding rituals have a softer tone. Warm, steady, full of meaning. The day itself is about the couple, their love, and celebrating a new chapter. There’s joy and music, but also quiet moments, shared glances, heartfelt toasts, and the sense that something truly sacred is happening, even if it’s just in someone’s backyard or a field of wildflowers.

Over time, they adopted some human traditions, made them their own, but always kept some rituals close to their hearts. I can picture them using Stefana crowns (I hope that’s what they’re called). Delicate, handmade pieces crafted by family, woven with flowers, tiny beads, bits of ribbon, or polished stones. There’s one for the bride, and for the minotaur, it’s something decorative that fits around his horns. The two are tied together with a long ribbon, connecting them, a symbol of unity and the path they now walk side by side.

And while wearing rings is totally normal among minotaurs these days, it’s also not uncommon to see a small band or ring slipped onto one of their horns. It might be simple or engraved, but it’s always personal. Some even add more over the years; a ring for a child born, one for a major anniversary, or a vow renewed. Their horns become a quiet history of their love and life. _

If you marry a RAKSHASA, get ready to be pampered on your wedding day thoroughly and lovingly by your soon-to-be husband. The ceremony and the party afterward? That’s for family and friends. But before all of that, it’s just the two of you, tucked away in your own little world. And he makes absolutely sure it’s one of the best, most indulgent days of your life.

Rakshasas, being the big cats they are, adore comfort. Softness. Luxury. And on your big day, he insists you get the same. The morning starts slow and sweet. He wakes you gently, kisses your forehead, maybe purrs against your neck, and brings you breakfast. Then comes the bath. A shared soak in warm water filled with flower petals or herbs, the kind of scents that make your whole body sigh. He washes with care, long fingers massaging your scalp until your whole body melts. His touch is slow, teasing, and affectionate. He scrubs your skin, kneads your muscles, and holds you close. He drowns you in love, in care, in pleasure, and takes his time doing it. And he doesn’t stop there. He helps you with your dress, and if he’s practiced (and trust me, a lot of rakshasas absolutely will take the time to learn) he’ll do your hair too.

And of course, you return the gesture. You dress him in fine fabrics, soft layers that flatter his build, maybe even something traditional from his culture. You comb and groom him, tend to his jewelry, and by the time you are both done, you are glowing. Not just from the effort, but from how close you’ve grown through the ritual of preparing each other.

When you walk down the aisle, it’s together, hand in hand.

The party is for the guests, yes, it’s loud, vibrant, full of good food and dancing, but it never really touches that soft little bubble you and your rakshasa built earlier in the day. Through it all, he keeps you close. His arm around your waist, lips brushing your temple, low purrs just for you. The world can spin and celebrate, but the two of you stay wrapped in that private, intimate warmth.

_

I put NAGAS and DRAGONS in one, because honestly, in a lot of ways, they feel very similar. Especially when it comes to love and marriage. In the past, both species were deeply solitary. They didn’t seek out big families or surround themselves with friends. They lived alone, and when they chose a mate, it was rare. Sacred. Back then, marriage wasn’t really a concept for them. There were no ceremonies, no celebrations. Just two beings deciding they belonged to each other. That was enough. No need for witnesses. No need for traditions. It only started to change when dragons and nagas began mingling more with other monsters and cultures. So whatever kind of marriage ceremony they have nowadays comes from others. And even now, they only do it if it’s important to their partner. And when it’s over, when the guests are gone, they will pull you close, curl around you, and whisper something low and soft, in a language older than time. A promise that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. A vow that’s just for the two of you. _

INCUBI and SUCCUBI are a lot like nagas and dragons in this sense. In the past (because of their nature, and more importantly, because of how the world saw them) they didn’t really have the luxury of settling down. Most didn’t even consider the idea of getting married. They were treated like temptations, like tools or taboos, not people you built a life with. So they learned to keep things light, temporary, easy to walk away from. And even now, marriage still isn’t really a priority for them. It’s not something they grow up dreaming about. It doesn’t define love for them the way it might for others. But it’s also not that rare anymore. Things change. Cultures shift. And they have found ways to belong. These days, when an incubus or succubus falls in love, really and truly, they are willing to go through whatever their partner wants to make it official in front of the law too. Not because they suddenly believe in the idea of marriage, but because their partner does. And that matters more. And when the night’s over, when the party fades, they don’t just undress you. They unwrap you. Like a gift they have waited their whole life to open. Something just for them. Their love is physical, yes, but more than that, it’s focused and fierce. _

Back then, for GOBLINS (and for the most part of the world) marriage was more of a contract than a romantic gesture. A business deal. Who had what, who gained what, how to merge households, goals, or fortunes. Love didn’t have much to do with it. And while the world has shifted and changed, for goblins, it’s been harder to let go of that old way of thinking. Even now, it’s not unusual for them to approach the whole ceremony like they’re finalizing a deal. Efficient. Straightforward. They often need their partner’s guidance to understand why things like flowers, vows, or a first dance might matter. Left to their own devices, some would just sign the papers, shake hands, and move on. Done and dusted. But it doesn’t mean they are loveless. Not at all. Goblins just... express affection differently. They are often very practical in their emotions. They’ll make sure your favorite tea is always stocked. They’ll learn how to fix things you break. They’ll remember the tiniest details of what you like or don’t like.

In the past, when arranged marriages were the norm, they often didn’t even know their partner before the wedding. Getting to know each other after the ceremony was part of the ritual, a tradition of slowly, carefully building something real. And this part is still very much alive in modern goblin culture. They don’t care much for big weddings. But the honeymoon? That’s a different story entirely.

That’s where they shine. Once everything official is done, goblins take pride in making sure their partner is completely comfortable. If their partner is okay with it, goblins absolutely prefer to disappear from the world for a while. No distractions, no outside world, just the two of you. And they plan everything carefully; good food, cozy settings, maybe a remote little cottage packed with all your favorite things. Just hide away and spend time together. It’s intimate in a quiet, thoughtful way.

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so he's his own warning. Don't read if he's not someone you enjoy reading fics about. Slight depictions of injury/death. Some hurt-comfort. Enemies to Lovers. Soulmate! AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,984

A/N: April's a rough month for me and I haven't had much creative energy if I'm being honest. Between life, work, and personal stuff writing sadly gets set to the side more than I'd like it to be. I know I have requests and the Valentines Event to finish but I don't want to force those out just to have them done. I want to take my time and post what I'm proud to have written and thank you all for your patience with those. Needed some Doffy to try and get things going again and help me out of my slump. Thank you all for the love and support, hopefully you like this chapter. The next one will be the party. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen(here) | Chapter Seventeen (coming soon)

——————

Doflamingo knew Dressrosa would be in safe hands with those in his family staying behind while he was gone. Long stretches of time away were rare but he always made sure nothing was left to chance in his absence. Counting in the time to get there, attend, and return he would be gone for nearly two weeks so he needed to settle preparations with the kingdom and his many other operations and work needed before departing. His subordinates and servants knew their daily tasks and duties and the higher ranking members were all given a fair share of additional responsibilities, everyone knowing that should anything be lacking on his return, all would suffer the consequences together. Finalising the last of the necessary details, Doflamingo rose from his desk and left the office, walking straight for the dining room. As he neared the room he heard Dellinger speak up. “So what time do you set sail?”

“First thing in the morning.” You looked up at the sound of Doflamingo’s voice answering the question that had been directed at Diamanté. With his usual chuckle and a building grin he added. “So those of you attending, make sure you get a good night’s rest because if you aren’t at the ship in time we’ll leave you behind.”

“Even me?” You asked as he slid into his seat beside you. You tried your best to look as innocently concerned about the prospect of being left behind even though it was because of you Doflamingo had even entertained the notion of attending this ordeal in the first place. 

“I’ll drag you out of your bed personally.” Doflamingo answered with a grin when a challenging glint shone in your eyes.

“Hey, hey Doffy!” Trebol spoke up, leaning forward toward his King, getting as close as he possibly could and as always with with no regard for anyone’s personal space. You continued to eat, glad you were on the other side of Doflamingo and safe from Trebol’s overbearing reach. “Why are you going so far away this time?”

“Yes I was curious about that too.” Lao G added. “Is there something special out there? Are you planning something else while you’re away?”

“If something important was being planned it wouldn’t be so spontaneous and more of us would be going too.” Gladius argued, prompting more voices to join the conversation and theorise the reasoning behind this trip away to an event they knew their King tended to avoid as much as possible. 

As they spoke amongst themselves you contented yourself to just enjoying your meal while also idly wondering what this event was going to be like. Beside you, Doflamingo had also said nothing to stop or encourage the current conversation, simply letting them be. After a while some became bored of trying to work out Doflamingo’s motivations behind his actions -as they normally did- and drifted into other discussions. Suddenly Baby 5 let out a gasp and she looked to Doflamingo with widened eyes and small blush dusting her cheeks. “D-doffy! Could it be your wedding?!”

Silence fell over the table among the family immediately. Some looked to Baby 5 first in silent fury, her overly romantic mind could be the cause they lose their heads because they get caught in the crossfire of angering their young master with her wistful and disrespectful question. Then again, they were all suddenly hit with the consideration that she may have been onto something. It made more sense than anything else they could have come up with so far. So they all looked to the top of the table where you and Doflamingo sat. Together you both looked at the other and immediately burst into laughter like this was the best joke you’d heard all week. Because that was the only way the both of you would even consider Baby 5’s words. It was ridiculous. At least it was to the two of you, everyone else on the other hand silently regarded you both and began to wonder if the time away was going to lead to any further developments between the two soulmates.

————

The Numancia Flamingo was definitely a sight to behold. You hadn’t been entirely sure what you’d been expecting before finally seeing and boarding the ship but when you did it was definitely the only thing you found that would suit Doflamingo. Had you put any thought into imagining the vessel it would have paled in comparison to the real thing. Truthfully it didn’t really matter on looks, it could have been a dingy little tugboat for all you cared because all that mattered now was getting to be on a ship again for the first time in months. 

You stood leaning against the railing and let your eyes slide closed as you felt Dressrosa’s summer heat recede back and the cool sea breeze began to pick up and wash over your face. You took a long, relaxed breath and gave a small hum. Opening your eyes you turned around, casually bracing your hands on the railing and watched Doflamingo approach. You said nothing as he came to a stop beside you but you did catch Diamanté, Baby 5, and Gladius standing on the other side of the deck, watching with expressions of varied levels of curiosity. Since this was only day on of the journey you braced yourself for this being the calm, anticipating their behaviour to heighten over the days at sea. “You look peaceful. You miss being out on the water that much?”

“Can you blame me for feeling a little nostalgic?” You asked with a small smile, looking to Doflamingo as he adjusted his position to still lean by the railing but also face you. “The last time I was on a ship was when my unit docked to begin our mission on observing your little enterprise at the warehouse.”

“How long were you stationed there until I showed up?” Doflamingo asked with a grin, the memory of your dazed and pained face lit by the warehouse fire realise he was the one your unit had unknowingly been pursuing flashing in his mind. Even then on the brink of passing out and accepting of your fate you’d been stubbornly defiant. 

“Nearly two months.” You explained, your smile lessening slightly. You were used to the routine tedium of keeping a low profile, watching for all activity, obeying the orders given on jobs like those but now that you thought on it and given that it was the last mission you’d ever have you couldn’t help but feel conflicted about it all. You thought fondly of your friends while also missing them but then would be hit with guilt. Did you even deserve to miss them when you were sitting and talking so comfortably with the man who was the reason they were all dead and gone. Quickly you cleared your throat and to distract yourself you added.  “Now that I think about it, I suppose I was on a ship after that, right? To get to Dressrosa.”

“We didn’t sail. I carried you back while you were unconscious and used my strings to get back.” At Doflamingo’s words you tilted your head in slight confusion. At the time you’d never questioned how you’d gotten to Dressrosa. For one thing, you were certain you weren’t going to be alive much longer and that you’d woken to Doflamingo demanding to know how he couldn’t hurt you if didn’t give you much time to think about it beyond using logic to fill in the gaps.

“Being away from Dressrosa for so long is a bit of a hassle isn’t it?” You asked, his words now bringing a new thought to you. You couldn’t believe it but you were now beginning to share Trebol's curiosity from the night before. “Why did you pick this event to go to? You get countless invitations. I’m sure there were many a lot closer to home.”

“I don’t know why, this one seemed the most interesting.” Doflamingo shrugged casually, not making a comment on how you’d inadvertently called Dressrosa ‘home’ and also chose to ignore the feeling that it brought him. “Didn’t look at the location until you agreed to go.”

“Still I wouldn't have minded if we went somewhere closer.” You explained before smirking. “They're all the same right?”

“Right but it’ll be interesting to see you navigate this as a guest.”

“I’ll have to be careful though, won't get away with half the stuff I normally do will I?” You grinned playfully. “Also means I have to behave around you too. Guess I should practice my ‘yes King Doffy’s and ‘anything you say, young master’s on the way.” For emphasis you straightened up to give him your best attempt at an exaggerated bow fitting his title.

“As much as I loved that display, you don't need to worry about doing that in front of anyone. Just be yourself. It’s not like they can do anything to you if you annoy them anyway.”

“Not worried I could be a target of those ‘clumsy assassinations’ you told me about?”

“When they see you’re with me they’ll know to leave you alone.” Doflamingo’s voice took on a hard edge, the threat of what would happen clear, not that it needed clarifying further. You saw how furious he was when a mere servant opened a door against your face by accident. The bloodbath and Doflamingo’s ferocity that would come should someone else try to kill you when that was his goal didn’t bear thinking about. Strangely you didn’t feel fear from him when he was like this, you never did. While you wanted to avoid as much unnecessary violence or death as possible, you knew Doflamingo would do as he wished.

————

The members of the Doflamingo family on the ship had begun to become more observant when it came to you and their ruler. Most of the time back on Dressrosa you tended to keep to yourself up until recent events took place so there were things they were only noticing or getting to see now. When they had watched Doflamingo approach, you turned without him even making a noise. Whatever it had been you were discussing it seemed relaxed enough but what caught their attention the most had been how close you both stood to each other and how you and Doflamingo looked solely on the other’s face as you talked. Even more interesting was how neither of your called attention or seemed to notice that Doflamingo’s hand was over yours for the conversation and that your finger was curled around one of his. 

Now they all sat in the ship’s lounge, relaxing after their dinner. Just as they would back in Dressrosa’s palace, they all settled into their own spots and contented themselves with idle chatter, a drink, and something to occupy them until they eventually would decide to go to bed for the night. Doflamingo took up most of one of the sofas all by himself, stretched out comfortably with a drink in one hand and the other draped over the back of his seat. Lazily he would twitch and arch his finger to move the chess pieces on the board between him and Diamanté who sat opposite him. 

You were the last to come into the room, having stopped by your room to grab a book. Entering you were already reading and immediately walked to the sofa Doflamingo was sprawled out on. You wordlessly dropped down onto the seat without checking if any space had been made for you, which to the silent surprise of the rest of the family there had been. The second you’d made your move, Doflamingo remained focused on the game while lounging but had adjusted his leg in time to make room for you to comfortably settle against the cushions and his side. With your back against him, you turned the page, continuing to read while Doflamingo made his next move in his game with Diamanté, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Both of you seemed completely unaware of how effortlessly domestic and cosy it all seemed but it practically slapped the others in the face. Part of them wanted to make a comment, even a light, teasing one but held back, unsure how either of you would take it. With the other members of the family back home depending on them to bring back all the juicy details, they didn’t want to risk ruining things by pointing out the unconscious moments between two of you especially on the first day. 

————

“Your family have been staring a lot today.” You noted as you climbed into the bed you’d be sharing with Doflamingo for the duration of the trip. It had already been mentioned and while you’d both slept in each other’s presence before, you couldn't help but realise this was the first time it was happening without you being sick or sleep deprived. Still you found no issue in it deep down, it just meant another slight shift in things was happening between you and Doflamingo. “Are they expecting something to happen?”

“Like what?” Doflamingo asked with a chuckle, his family hadn’t exactly been subtle with their observations but even he couldn’t work out what was suddenly so interesting. 

“I dunno, they’re your responsibility so you tell me.” You shrugged with a yawn as Doflamingo switched off the light. 

“Sometimes they’re a mystery even to me. They’ll get bored and move on to something else, they always do.” Doflamingo explained and you nodded.

Ultimately it didn’t matter what it was that had them acting stranger than normal. Whatever their motivations they were going to continue until what they were waiting for did or didn’t happen. Anything was possible in their imaginations, Baby 5’s ridiculous suggestion that Doflamingo and you were going to marry on this trip was proof of that. As long as they didn’t get too in your face about it, you were happy to just let them continue as they were. Besides you were too tired to give them anymore thought. With another yawn, this one deeper and longer than the last you lay back more and felt yourself fall over to sleep, carried there by the sounds of waves hitting against the side of the ship. It had been so long since you’d fallen asleep to the familiar sound and given your earlier conversation with the man asleep next to you, it was no wonder that your mind conjured the images that it did for your dreams. 

It started pleasant enough. You were sat around a table with your unit sharing a meal, talking and laughing without any cares or worries. Then the laughter slowed and an almighty explosion came from the centre of the table, hurtling your body backwards through the air and plunging you into the coldest and darkest waters. You struggled and clawed with all your might to fight your way out of the depths but your limbs felt heavier and heavier with no sign of the surface in sight. Finally hands broke through the surface and hauled you from the water. You slumped onto the floor and took a few steadying breaths.

Lifting your head to thank your saviour you froze with the words lodged in your throat. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the young cadet that died in the warehouse explosion but it wasn’t as you knew him. Standing before you now was his burning body, the scorched remnants of his uniform melted to his skin and eyes literally ablaze as he looked down at you in fury, with laboured, crackling breaths smoke bled from his parted mouth. “Traitor.” You flinched at the low, agonising voice he now spoke with. “You’re a traitor.”

Numbly you sat cold and horrified, unable to speak. Trembling you could only stare helplessly at the cadet and shake your head. Suddenly he was behind you, charred and burning fingers clawing into your skull and forcing you to look forward. Against the fires of the destroyed warehouse debris you were faced with the bloodied and lifeless bodies of the rest of your unit. You didn’t see what had become of them personally but knew they’d died so in this nightmare, your imagination created the worst visions possible. Then they all spoke together, a chorus of haunting accusations. “Traitor.” “You forgot us.” “Dead because of you.” “Sided with the enemy.” “Our blood is on your hands.” “Your fault.” 

Their unseeing eyes blinked and their heads turned your way, their rigid, bloodied hands moving to drag themselves across the space between them and you. While the burning cadet held you firmly in place, the rest of the unit drew closer and closer chanting the chorus of “Your fault” over and over again until they were swarmed on top of you and smothered you. 

With a strangled gasp you bolted upright in the bed, kicking and pushing to try and rid the phantoms from your nightmare away from you but still their touch persistently clung to your skin. You jolted when the most determined phantom grabbed your wrists to stop your thrashing. At the sound of Doflamingo’s deep voice saying your name you blinked through your disoriented panic and swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to calm your rapid breathing. Finally you were able to remind yourself that it had all just been an awful dream and that the images weren't real but as rational as you were it all still had a vicelike grip on you. 

You were pulled forward and Doflamingo adjusted you to settle on his lap. He wrapped his arm around you and settled his other hand on the back of your head, settling you against his chest. Hearing his strong, steady heartbeat finally helped you to relax. Following his breaths as a guide you began to ease and the small shake in your frame settled. For the longest moment you remained against him, your eyes staring at nothing and only focusing on the warmth of Doflamingo’s body against yours. 

With a tired sigh you began to pull out of his hold. Now that you’d calmed from the nightmare you decided to let him get back to sleep. Except you stopped when his grip tightened. Silently Doflamingo lay down and kept you against him. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“I’m no stranger to nightmares.” Doflamingo told you, his fingers moving against your back in similar motions as you had with him when you proved he needed to relax more. “Only talk about it if you want. Or say nothing at all. It’s your choice.”

“Thanks Doffy.” You murmured, your voice already growing thick and in seconds you were drifting off to sleep in his arms.

————

While the nightmare hadn’t been brought up again and even though it didn’t happen again, the consequences of it were evident. For every night that followed, no matter what position you both settled into the two of you would wake fully rested and in each other’s hold; usually with your head on his chest. As always when it came to anything that could be perceived as soft or tender or actions fuelled by emotion, nothing was said about the sleeping arrangements. If anything, you both would merely convince yourselves it was for your own benefit; simply a way to have a peaceful night's rest and nothing more. For you both this was the best way to handle things, to just continue as you both were without looking deeper.

As you sipped at your morning tea you saw the outline of an island slowly come into view, a tiny dot on the horizon. Still far away but now a sign the first stretch of the trip would be over. So far the plan was to attend the party that evening, stay overnight at the host’s lavish estate and set sail in the next day. The time of your departure would depend solely on the hangovers of Doflamingo and the rest of the crew whose tasks involved sailing the ship back home to Dressrosa. You lifted the invitation again and inspected it curiously. There was no real occasion listed so it was an even greater mystery for what you’d be walking into and had no real way to prepare for it all. Still from what Doflamingo had said, it would be a gathering of people similar to him; those holding great power-most not attained morally- some nobility and even a couple royals or rulers of their own islands, others just so insanely rich they may as well have a crown on their head. Adding in the numbers of each guest’s entourage of supporters, bodyguards and fawning dates to make them look good it was most certainly going to be a large affair. Now a thought came to you that you maybe should have asked sooner. “How are you going to introduce me?”

“By your name, obviously.” Doflamingo smirked as he observed you set the invitation down and let out an unimpressed huff. “What other way am I to introduce you?”

“I meant what's my place here?” You asked with a roll of your eyes. “They’re bound to already know the members of your family and will know I’m not one of them. I don’t think you want these people to know you have a soulmate and even if they didn’t believe you to openly call me your soulmate seems…out of character.”

Doflamingo stared at you hard for a few moments. Quickly he moved passed your first remark and settled instead on the discussion of openly calling you his soulmate. You were right, most of the people who would be at this party only had their uses for what Doflamingo could exploit and manipulate out of them for his own profit or entertainment. They had no need for any private and valuable information about the depths of the connection he had with you. Plus a sinister thought crept into his mind; if it was made public knowledge some fool could try and use you to get to him in an attempt to gain the upper hand on him which was something he wouldn’t allow in any capacity. Still you had his mind spinning in another thought. “They don’t need to know you as anything other than my date, just think of it as the same situation when we dealt with our cheating pirate guests only without killing this time. Also, 'out of character’ how?”

“As far as these people know I’m your date, just some random person you’ve brought along to look nice and stop you from getting bored too easily. You don’t strike me as someone who’d remember a one-time date's name passed the next day, let alone call them something as strong as ‘soulmate’ for a pet-name at a party.”

Doflamingo’s laughter built in his chest at your observation. As to the point as your words were, they weren’t spoken to insult or offend him. They were a genuine statement, and a very clear view of him which had its drawbacks. It felt odd to be so seen by someone like this, to be known in this way. You were right, he cared very little for any previous lover or date’s feelings and their names were at best half-remembered the next morning or when he chose to kick them out of his bed when they’d served their purpose. “So what pet-name can I call you?”

“It’s only for tonight, right?” You asked with a casual shrug while lifting the paper to go back to reading it. “I’ve played the pirate’s lover before, remember? Call me whatever you want and I'll play along.” Doflamingo grinned broader and looked out the window at the island in the distance. Tonight was going to be fun. 

——————————————-

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[ladylooch]

I can't believe I missed this one. I'm awful! But wow was this a treat on a Monday night!

Nico low key being annoyed that Timo wants to sleep over, forgetting who he stole her from in the first place. Rude, sir.

Stop. Moose is lowkey happy for Timo snuggles and it is making me giggle. 

Nico scoffs. “No, I had my years of sharing a bed with Timo.”  *slap* sorry.. had to get my mind outta the gutter there. Also reader inviting literally anyone into their bed when Nico is just trying to get laid is so fucking funny. 

🧍🏻‍♀️realizing I am very jealous of Moose rn. I too would like to go across town to Timo’s…. 

Instead he found the one person in the world to ever love him, unconditionally and unselfishly.  - anddddd now im crying 😭

“Not long enough,” - now I’m hyperventilating 

The entire interaction with Nico, Timo and reader has me DYING. They are SO FUNNY! OMG a million more chapters of that alone will do.

There was no room, no need for anyone else because he was trying to be everything for you. 🥺 oh.

I am SO curious to see how Nico’s perspective of what reader lost by choosing to be with him changes or adapts when their kids come into the picture. Like will he still see that you lost everything by choosing him? Or will some of that be soothed by these new additions that immediately become all consuming? I’m excited for that!

STOP I am so emotional over the acts of love he was doing for her behind the scenes in such a Nico way. The way it has always been SO important for him to provide for her, even if he isn’t around and to give her what she has earned- a stake in everything. She’ll be taken care of. Period. That is the deepest and truest of loves.

If Timo walks her down the aisle I WILL be throwing up.

I just... can't even really put into words how much I love this series. How creative and special it is. I feel so lucky that you are kind enough to share this with us 🥹

Him and I - Darling You

Nico Hischier x reader, Mob Boss!Nico

Warnings: Snippy reader, panic attack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

____________________________________________

It may have been years since Nico’s made the trip to Switzerland, but it’s a hangover he’ll never forget. Body sore from being on a plane for six hours, hungry for real genuine food but sick from eating airline food, head aching from the roar of jet engines and the altitude changes. It’s just fucking exhausting.

He remembers the first time he made the trip with Timo, Jesper, and Jonas. They’d all spent a few days in the new apartment sleeping it off. And even when they got to work they were dead on their feet for a while.

He thinks of that as he helps you out of the car, the garage door clanging and grinding as it shuts. Timo, like him, doesn’t look too bad as he moves to gather the carry-ons from the back. The other luggage can wait until tomorrow.

“I can stay here, yeah?”

Nico gives him an exasperated look, almost tipping over when you fall out of the car into his arms. You’ve got your feet under you, but your knees are lazily bent and from the way your worming into his ribs, Nico’s certain your not even carrying half your weight.

“Course you can.” You mumble to Timo, blinking blearily from under Nico’s arm. He laughs under his breath, moving you out of the way so he can close the car door and then he’s dragging you towards the house.

Fighting with the bags, Timo shoves his way into the house. It doesn’t take long for Nico to hear them thump to the floor, Timo obviously giving up on doing anything productive with them.

“Step baby,” Nico instructs you, and you begrudgingly wake yourself up enough to follow him up the couple stairs and into the door. He lets you slump against the wall while he closes and locks the door, the sounds of the other boys coming in the front door floating into the laundry room.

Hands under your arms, Nico walks you into the kitchen, dodging the abandoned luggage. “I’m so tired,” you say through a yawn, “why won’t my legs work?”

Timo snorts a laugh at you, leaning heavily on the counter with a bottle of water in his hands. It’s too early in the morning for Johnny to be up, but it only takes a few seconds for pattering paws to come down the staircase.

As if an electric shock had gone through you, you spring to life in Nico’s arms, already shaking him off as you scramble for the bottom of the stairs.

“My baby!” You cry as Moose barrels down the stairs, paws sliding on the tile floor and you wrap him up in your arms before he can fall forward. Huddled on your knees, you bury your face in the dog’s neck and pet at his ears, mumbling sweet words. “Oh I missed you so much, Moose.”

He licks at your face, tail wagging in a frenzy behind him and Nico’s heart stings with guilt. He should’ve let you take the stupid dog to Switzerland. They wouldn’t have needed to ask the boys to house-sit and you would’ve been far more comfortable with Moose there. Hell, the dog would’ve done what he was trained to do and saved you from fucking Lena.

Giving you another second to say hi, Nico finally makes his way to stand behind you. He lays a hand on Moose’s head, digging his fingers into the thick fur there and pulling just slightly.

He whistles and Moose shoots up straight like an arrow, tilting to look up at Nico with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. You climb to your feet, petting his ears again and mumbling a quiet “good boy,” when Moose remains still, waiting for Nico to say something to him. You wonder off to the fridge, Moose watching you with big puppy eyes and he shifts on his feet.

Taking in pity in how overwhelmed the poor dog is, Nico crouches down in front of him. “Musli,” he says sadly, petting at the side of his face and Moose leaps into Nico, tackling him to the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry we left you,” Nico apologizes through a laugh, Moose sniffing and licking at his face and neck. The dog is heavy on his chest, nails digging into Nico’s stomach uncomfortably but Nico simply wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly. “I know, I’ll never do it again.”

Like he’s speaking to him, Moose barks and yelps at Nico, his whole body vibrating with excitement to the point that Nico can’t even hold him still. He curls into himself on the cold tile, shielding his face and laughing as Moose darts between barking in his ear and nipping at his hair.

Moose doesn’t let up until the younger boys mosey into the kitchen, giving Nico a break as he runs over to smell their hands and feet with suspicion.

Panting, Nico groans as he climbs back to his feet. You help straighten out his shirt once he’s upright, dusting off his shoulders and chest before curling into his side, arms wrapped lazily around his waist.

“I’m going to bed,” Jack announces after he’s done petting Moose, stretching his arms over his head. He moves to the stairs, pausing at the bottom one and looking to Nico.

“Work tomorrow?”

For a moment Nico thinks about telling him to be in by 8 as usual, just to see what he’d say or do. But the kid did good work in Switzerland, was on guard 24 hours of the day and didn’t whine once so he gives him a break.

“Nah catch up on your sleep tomorrow,” Nico waves him off, then gestures to the other boys too. “All of you. Come back in when you feel up to shape, yeah?”

It’s like watching them run down the stairs on Christmas morning, Jack whipping around with wide eyes to stare at Luke, Mercer, and Holtz. They all exchange similar looks of excitement, acting like Nico is come cruel and usual boss, and Nico rolls his eyes.

They all take off up the stairs, a renewed energy in them now that they know they can sleep in tomorrow and Nico has a feeling they’re all already planning on squishing into Alex’s room to stay up and play video games.

“Don’t know what room Johnny is in,” you mumble, wincing. “I hope they don’t wake him.”

Nico shrugs, pressing his fingers into the small of your back. “If the dog didn’t wake him I doubt they will.”

Moose trots over to rub against your legs, pushing his butt up when you start scratching by his tail.

“Some house sitter you got there.” Timo snorts, rubbing at his eyes. “Do I get the dog or are you hoarding him now?”

Peering up at Nico for an answer, you bat your eyelashes at him, pleadingly. You’re cute, pressed into his chest with your puppy dog eyes, sleep still evident in every corner of your features. Any other night and he’d relent, even if it meant him sleeping terribly because Moose loves to lay on his feet.

But he’s exhausted and you’re exhausted, and he’s got ideas that don’t involve the dog sitting at the bottom of the bed.

“Aww,” Nico pouts, running his fingers through your hair and your lips begin to perk up, thinking he’s going to agree. “No, he sleeps with Timo.”

“What? Nico!”

Smirking, he pecks a placating kiss to your lips while Timo laughs, giddily. Moose, recognizing Timo’s excitement gallops over to his uncle T, circling his legs a few times.

“You and me bud,” Timo tells him, scratching at the top of his head. Nico did send Moose with him because he wants alone time with you, but now watching his friend fawn over having a cuddling buddy, he thinks it’s probably for the best for Timo too. The guy is good at being chill and happy, easy-go-lucky Timo but Nico knows he’s upset. That underneath the sleep ridden eyes and lazy smile, he’s thinking of Amelia and how yet again he’s had to make the trip back to Jersey without her.

“Go say goodnight,” Nico tells you, nudging you towards Timo. You sigh through your nose, dragging your feet over and he watches with amusement as you dramatically crouch down and wrap your arms around Moose. He can’t hear what you mumble into the dog’s ear but Timo can if the short laugh he lets out is anything to go by. You then wrap yourself around Timo, muttering a goodnight and “please snuggle my baby for me” with sad eyes pointed at Nico.

“I will, I promise.” Timo assures, sharing an amused look with Nico. Then he’s kissing the top of your head and sending you back to Nico, cutting across the kitchen to head for the downstairs bedroom. Moose pads after him happily, tail wagging ever so slightly as they go.

Petulant, you accept Nico’s outstretched hand, letting him tug you into his chest. He wraps you up tightly, squeezing his biceps around your shoulders until you make a choking noise of complaint.

“Hey,” he murmurs, squeezing your side. “Don’t make Timo sleep alone tonight. He just had to say goodbye to Amelia…again.”

“He could come sleep with us too.”

Nico scoffs. “No, I had my years of sharing a bed with Timo.”

You sigh, dramatic as ever. “Ok.”

Taking that as an agreement, Nico walks you towards the living room, wanting to double check that the boys locked the front door and to set the alarm. You follow him easily, sleep catching up to you again and all he has to do is keep you from running into walls as you navigate the dark house.

He turns the deadbolt at the front door, punches in the code for the alarm system and now just has to get you upstairs, out of your traveling clothes and preferably into nothing else.

You get to the base of stairs, shoes hitting the bottom step with a low thump, and then you’re looking up at him, eyes half closed.

“Carry me?”

“I think you can make it,” he says, just to make you even more whiny.

“You gave away my dog. The least you could do is carry me.”

Shaking his head in laughter, Nico scoops you up into his arms, wincing when your foot bangs into the wall. You don’t seem to care though, smiling contently and curling into him with a little sigh.

Nico’s tired and his muscles complain the whole way up, but all he can think about is how he’ll get to do this for the rest of his life with you.

~~~~

Nico wonders how long it’s physically possible for two people to stay in bed.

He remembers practically living under the sheets with you after Philly. It was like you were always hiding from something, shielding yourself behind him and the oversized duvet on his bed. It wasn’t hard for you either, to stay there. You didn’t get stir crazy, didn’t have to force yourself to stay tucked into his side in the mornings.

You craved it almost.

It’s almost funny how similar the past couple days have been to that time. Different circumstances of course. You and him aren’t hiding from anything, you’re preserving it. The bubble you didn’t get to enjoy in Switzerland. Between his father and Lena, there was never no chance to bask in the engagement like he’d originally planned. Even after he officially asked you, there was always something. A house full of boys demanding your attention and time, his siblings trying to repair bonds that had been broken before Nico even hit puberty, and pushing Timo into chasing love.

Now though, the house has gone empty. The boys returned to the loft, Johnny went back to work, and after a full nights rest you came to your senses about Timo’s aching heart and let him take Moose for as many days as he needs.

And Moose gets his own little vacation across town, gets to live it up at the bachelor pad with Timo. A treat for him to make up for the trip you and Nico went on without him.

“I love our home,” you whisper so as to not disturb the mid-morning stillness. Nico can’t see your face but he can imaging the peaceful look on it, the sun filtering in through the currents bathing you in glowing light.

He pecks a kiss to your bare shoulder, flexing the arm he has thrown over your waist. “Me too,” he agrees, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes this morning feels the same as the mornings in Switzerland.

Home was never the house, it’s you.

“I love my ring,” you say, the hint of a smile in your words as you fiddle with the silver band. Nico hasn’t seen you take it off since you got it, and even though it’s probably not smart to sleep with it on, he can’t bring himself to tell you.

He shifts forward, pressing another kiss to the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. “Me too,” he agrees, yet again, wondering where you’re going next with this. How long the two of you can lay here and name the things you love.

You hum at the feeling of his mouth, arching back into a beautiful stretch that elongates your neck and curves your hips towards him. All warm and soft and inviting.

“And I love you,” you preen, left hand slipping under the blankets to grab at his bare thigh. Almost encouragingly you pull at his leg, hiking it over your hip.

“I love you darling.” He says into the base of your jaw, goosebumps rising on his skin as your fingers play with the hair on his leg. Kissing at the corner of your mouth, Nico pushes himself up, your body falling back in the warm alcove he’d previously been occupying. “So much,” he says, settling between your parted thighs.

“Darling,” you hum, looking so beautiful with your hair fanned out across his pillow, the sun dancing on your bare skin, glinting off the necklace lying between your naked breasts. “I like that one.”

Nico leans in, kissing down the column of your throat, following the line of the gold chain. You cup the back of his neck, thumb mindlessly stroking back and forth. “Yeah?” he asks, kissing chastely at the underside of each breast, where you’re the fullest and your skin the hottest.

“Like all the names you give me,” you continue, fingers sliding across his skin to cup his face, drawing him back up to your face.

Your cheeks are flush and full of life, your eyes more content and happy than he’s seen them in weeks. He nudges your nose with his. “Giving you the most important one.”

A girlish giggle bubbles out of you, warm against his lips and his heart throbs in his chest. He never in a million years thought this is where New Jersey would get him. He ran away from his family, from his home, from everything he’d ever known. He expected to just be here, just him and his work, practicing isolationism probably.

Instead he found the one person in the world to ever love him, unconditionally and unselfishly.

“Kuss?” You request, tilting your head to give him a better angle and Nico happy obliges. His lips find yours for a slow and sweet kiss, your legs coming up to wrap around his hips.

Your hands tangle in his hair, threading through his knotted bed head. Nico, half-hard since you pulled that move of stretching back into him, shifts more of his weight on to you.

“Are we ever going to get out of bed?” You ask after tugging on his hair, him groaning delightedly at the way it sends tingles through his scalp.

He kisses you again. “No,” his smile touches your lips, sweet and tender. “S’our honeymoon. We get to do what we want.”

Your eyes light up with laughter, big and shiny and beautiful as you look up at him. Afraid his heart is going to beat right out of his chest if he keeps looking at you, Nico ducks down to mouth at your neck.

“I think you’re jumping the gun there,” you say with mirth, and Nico nips at you in retaliation, subtly grinding his cock against the soft pudge of your stomach.

“Engagement honeymoon,” he reasons, breath hitching when you press up into him, encouragingly, “And I want to celebrate by fucking in the bed we’ll be fucking in for the rest of our lives.”

You laugh, your body curling into him until you’re wrapped around him like a vice. “Oh how romantic Neeky,” you say dreamily, and he smiles at the nickname.

Tugging him back up to your lips for a chaste kiss, you cup his jaw. Unknowingly he bites at his bottom lip and you pull at it with your thumb until he lets up, releasing the full force of his boyish smile. “I don’t think we’re supposed to have the same mattresses for that long.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, “and how long will that be?”

You purse your lips, humming as you contemplate. “100 years.”

Your thumb traces his bottom lip, fingertip soft and tender, and he moves to press a kiss to the pad of it. “Not long enough,” he whispers, and then because there’s not much else to say, you draw him in for another kiss.

Nico lets you have control of it, holding his face and teasingly licking into his mouth. Tracing his hand down the curve of your side, skin so soft and warm, he takes ahold of his now fully hard cock. Tilting his hips, Nico lines himself up at your entrance, humming in satisfaction when he feels how wet you already are.

“Can I have you, baby?” He mumbles into the kiss, and you nip at his bottom lip in agreement.

“You already do.” It’s just a breath against his face, warm and sticky, and it leaves him aching for more. He captures your lips with his again, guiding his cock through your folds and pressing in when the head catches on your hole.

Your lips part from his, just enough to whimper beautifully against the plushness of his mouth. Nico holds the side of your thigh, hitching it higher up his hip and you go with, pliantly accommodating the extra space he’s demanding between your thighs.

You do so effortlessly, like it’s nothing to make room for him, to accept him. Like after all this time he’s an extension of you.

Nico fucks you slow and filthy, bodies sweat-slicked and hot from being pressed so close together. He kisses you messily, like your lips are his last meal on death row, unrelenting even when you’re panting for air against his desperate kisses. You cling to him, left hand finding his and locking your fingers together above your head, so tightly his knuckles grow white and ache.

The whole time, the band of your ring, now warm against his skin, reminding him that he does in fact already have you, and you have him.

~~~~

Nico’s barely slid into the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut against the biting wind outside before he’s letting out an affronted scoff. In the two seconds it took him to peek at you through the crack between the front seat and door, he knows you’re not even remotely dressed warm enough.

Leaning his elbow onto the center console, he looks you up and down with judgmental eyes.

“Where the fuck is your coat?”

Timo chuckles, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb without even waiting for Nico to buckle up. Mockingly, you turn to him with your jaw dropped.

“Where the fuck is your seatbelt?”

Unamused, he huffs and settles into the backseat. Ignoring your giggling, he buckles but not even two seconds later he’s kicking the back of your seat.

“It’s -1 outside and slushy, where is your coat?”

Immediately he knows he’s messed up, catching the teasing look on your face as you glance the dash where it’s glaringly obvious displaying that it’s 30 degrees right now.

“Wrong side of the pond there, Neeky.” You say, in that tone you always use to annoy him and push at his buttons. It’s never in a truly mean way but a part of him wonders if you’re sharp tongue is back because today was his first day back at work since you’ve returned.

You were just as taunting with him after he returned to work post Philly incident. Sure he’d been attached your hip for a much longer time period than the trip to Switzerland so he expected some bite from you, but this is feeling just as bratty.

Nico decides he’s not even going to try to entertain you, too upset with the fact that it’s freezing temperatures outside and the light rain from earlier is slowly turning to snow. Meanwhile you’re dressed in a white sweater from his side of the closet and a skirt.

“I’m not asking you again.” He gruffs, arms crossed over his chest and you sigh. Then, as if it’s the most perfect excuse in the world, you run your hands over the sheer black fabric on your thighs.

“I wore fleece lined tights.”

Nico huffs in disbelief, knowing there’s no way in hell you actually thought that’d be warm enough except that you do. He can already hear the excuses in his head, the same one you give him every time you want it to snow.

If you dress like it’s not going to be a blizzard, it will in fact be a blizzard. It’s your own form of washing the car just to make it rain the next day. Somehow it always works too.

He doesn’t say anything, settling back into his seat and staring out the windshield as Timo navigates through Newark. Nico has no idea where this new restaurant you were dying to try out is, and he’s about to ask Timo how far away it is but you’re slipping your left hand over the console, wiggling your fingers at him.

The diamond ring on your finger twinkles prettily, reaching for him and he rests his hand on his knee, lacing his fingers through yours and all thoughts of lunch leave his mind. Soothingly, he traces the band of your ring with his thumb, admiring how perfectly your hand looks in his, feels in his.

“Wait where are we going?” You ask and Nico looks up, not sure what direction Timo is supposed to be going in.

“I gotta stop at the loft real quick.” He explains and you pout, slumping in your seat a bit. Stroking his thumb over the back of your hand, Nico and you sit silently the rest of the ride, Timo humming along to his playlist until he’s pulled up to the curb.

“Why wouldn’t you park in the garage?” You ask, a bit snotty and he has to bite back a laugh. Timo should’ve known this unannounced detour would make you crabby, no doubt annoyed at having to wait longer for food you’ve been craving.

“Because we’re just running in real quick.” Timo sasses back, staring at you challengingly as he takes the keys out of the ignition.

“We?” You scoff, “I don’t have a jacket. I’m not getting out.”

As if proving your point, you take your hand back from Nico and cross your arms over your chest, staring out the front windshield like you’ve got all the time and patience in the world.

“Bro,” Timo sighs, looking to Nico with pleading eyes. He doesn’t particularly want to take his friend’s side over yours but it’s looking like this whole thing will go a lot quicker if you just get out of the car. And the quicker this is, the sooner they can get some food in you.

Nico huffs, unbuckling and sliding forward until he can peer around the seat at you. Encouragingly, he wraps his fingers around your bicep and squeezes. “Come on baby, it’ll be quick and I’ll give you my coat.”

Petulantly, you undo your seatbelt and climb out of the car, shutting the door on both of them. Nico sighs, shooting Timo a glare as he reaches for his door handle. “Gee thanks for pissing her off, T.”

“Me?” He squeaks, “you did this! She’s been a monster all day because she misses you.”

Nico can’t help but smile, endeared by the fact that you ache for him so much when he’s gone you turn into a little demon. Maybe he shouldn’t be basking in joy that you’ve been making Timo’s day hell, but it’s sweet how much you want to be around Nico all the time. He’s missed you today too.

Slipping out of the car and knocking it shut with his hip, Nico peels off his warm wool coat, and finds you shivering on the sidewalk, arms hugging your body. You’re still glaring at Timo, but when Nico steps up beside you and wraps his coat over your shoulders, you blink up at him with that pretty Bambi look in your eyes.

Putting your arms into the sleeves, he button the top loop for you, huddling you under his arm. And then just because he missed you and because he can, Nico kisses the top of your snow spackled hair, not caring how cold it is against his lips.

“Hurry up you big babies!” Timo grumbles over his shoulder, rushing towards the front door of the building. He begins impatiently hitting the button for the top loft apartment, insistent buzzing filling the air.

Following after him, you and Nico step up to the door and you wait until you’re in earshot of Timo to mock his words in a high-pitch mumble. Luckily the door clicks open before Timo can say anything else, and Nico yanks it open to usher you inside.

The ride up to the top floor is tension filled. Timo pointedly ignoring you, eyes practically stuck on the ceiling of the elevator as you watch his every move through a squinted glare. And yet Nico is painfully biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much, throughly entertained and surprised by how petty and childish you can be when hungry and upset.

He’d forgotten that despite your achingly sweet personality, you can get even meaner than Nico under the right circumstance.

The elevator opens and Nico guides you down the hall with a hand on your neck, nudging Timo with his elbow when his friend falls in by his side. He' trying to tell him to lighten up, that you're literally just hungry and while regressing to a five year old when you haven't eaten isn't the most attractive characteristic of yours, it's not that big a deal.

Except Timo is just as touchy as you right now, probably still dealing with the heartache of his long distance girlfriend and Moose was no longer at Timo's for sleepovers. The guy is just a little lonely, Nico thinks.

It's a tough situation for him to be in the middle of.

"After you," Timo sighs with faux politeness, motioning to the front door of the loft. Crossing your arms, you look Timo up and down, popping your hip out patiently and again Nico is fighting back laughter. It's not often he sees you and Timo like this, but it is hilarious.

"It's your errand, you go first."

If this were one of those old cartoons with the cat and mouse, steam would be rolling out of Timo's ears. As much Nico wants this to go on, wants to see if you and Timo will go as far as swatting each other, it's better if this just rolls on so he can get some food in you.

"Alright, relax," he says, ducking around you to open the door. He's barely turned the knob, walking in backwards and dragging you with him by the hand when Timo sticks his foot out to make you stumble. Nico's steady hand keeps you from falling but it does nothing to stop you from shaking the sleeve of Nico's coat over your free hand, whipping the sewed edge of it at Timo's arm and chest.

"Ow!" Timo complains, swatting at your hand "Nico your wife is being a child!"

Harshly, you shove him into the edging of the door. "Nico your best friend is being a little bitch." You mock, sticking your tongue out at him.

Finally, he breaks, cackling in amusement as Timo bullies his way into the loft and kicks the door shut behind him. He stands over you, eyes narrowed in irritation, but you simply glare back up at him, sleeves hanging over your hands, and even drowning in his coat you seem more menacing than Timo.

"For the love of god there has to be snacks here," Nico mumbles, taking ahold of your elbow and dragging you down the entryway. Huffing, you pliantly follow after him, Timo's heavy footfall trailing behind you.

Nico's just rounded the entryway into the the living room/kitchen when he notices the large white and gold balloons framing the walk way. Before he can ask though, you're all coming face to face with every Devs member, girlfriends and wives included.

"Surprise!" They shout, Jack's screech louder than everyone else and Nico thinks no one should be able to sound that shrill when wearing a button up and tie.

The place is decorated to T. White and classy, elegant tablecloths on what looks like catered Italian food filled tables. The furniture has been swiped out for tall, round tables, all centered with white flower arrangements and candles in the center. Hanging from the ceiling above the balcony doors is a banner, beautiful calligraphy writing out Nico and Y/n Forever in black with gold detailing.

He smiles, looking over to find that the fight has drained out of you, instead replaced with a look of awe. You're eyes are wide and glossy, that most perfect smile of your stretched across your cheeks and you laugh emotionally.

"Yeah surprise," Timo says dully, peeking over your shoulder before ducking around to join the party. You roll your eyes, shoving him as he goes but you're still smiling so Nico doesn't worry too much.

"Are you gonna hug us or what?” Jack demands, barreling forward and wrapping his long arms around you. You squeeze him back, giggling and thanking him.

“I just let you guys use my place,” he says, then looks to Nico with an innocent gleam in his eyes, arms spread wide.

“My place, technically.” Nico corrects, but he accepts the hug from the elder Hughes boy. He’s quickly followed by Luke who you happily wrap up in a hug.

“Yeah well anyway,” Jack continues, “Nicole and Nola pretty much did it all. With permission of Jesp and Jonas of course but yeah the girls are better planners.”

Caught entirely off guard, you look to Nico with wide eyes. Like the idea of the girls doing something nice for you is so foreign, so unknown to you. Maybe you’re expecting to hear that Nico had a part in it, but he didn’t.

The surprise was as much his as yours, though probably not as personally as it seems to be touching you.

You go oddly quiet after that, letting Luke take the coat from your shoulders to put in Alex’s room, looking Nico over in disapproval. “No coat? Come on man, it’s snowing out there.”

Nico doesn’t even bother defending himself. The two of you bounce around the room greeting everyone and thanking them, letting them look at your ring for nothing longer than a moment and it’s cute, how protective you are over it. Cute until Nico thinks that maybe you’re guarding it, hiding your hand in the crook of his elbow so that they can’t take it, or even imply it shouldn’t be on your hand.

Like you’re worried someone here will say you don’t deserve it.

He can’t help it after that, watching you far too closely. His hello’s and thank you’s come off as dismissive, his attention on you and how you slowly keep shrinking even further into his side.

Even when Jesper and Jonas approach, the girls flanking them, you don’t melt into your usually bubbly personality, don’t offer big hugs like you did Alex and Luke and the younger boys. An awkward side hug with the girls and a wave to the boys, lips in a tight smile as you thank them. It sounds genuine, even if you appear as if you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.

Nico doesn’t even know what to do, what went so wrong that as greetings went on you felt more and more unwelcome.

“How was Switzerland?” Jonas asks you, eagerly “Did you like it?”

Heart dropping in his chest, Nico runs a hand his face. Unbelievable, of all things to ask at a time where you look like you’re walking on eggshells.

“It was beautiful,” you respond, a genuine smiling pulling at your lips, a bit strained but it’s something. You don’t say anything else about it, gaze shifting from Jonas to the table food behind him and Nico thinks that maybe you’re just hungry still.

“I’m starving,” Nico complains, patting at his stomach for dramatic effect. Then, as warning to drop the subject of Switzerland and to give you an out he adds, “And I’ll lose my appetite if I have to talk about my family again so we’re gonna go get plates.”

“Yeah of course!” Nola jumps in, waving you towards the food with a friendly smile. “John was on catering duty, said only the best pasta for his amanti.”

You snort at the nickname, clearing your throat to hide the little snicker. “Thank you guys again. This is all really sweet.”

Offering another little smile, you look up at Nico expectantly and he doesn’t waste a second before leading you towards the catering, your arm wrapped tightly around his.

Luke, with an already dirty plate in hand, is plopping more spoonfuls of Alfredo onto his plate, sandwiching it between two pieces of garlic bread. He looks up when you approach, pointing the serving spoon down towards the dish.

“This shit is so good,” he practically moans, setting the spoon down and placing his other piece of bread on top until a towering pasta sandwich takes up the plate.

You gape at him, blinking a few times in awe before shaking your head. “You might be a genius Lukey,” you breath and then your wiggling out Nico’s hold to get you and him a plate, not sparing him a second glance as you shove his plate into his hands and go about serving.

Luke follows you dutifully, leaning over your shoulder and offering mumbled pointers as you serve your own arrangement of pasta and bread. Deciding that you’re comfortable enough for the moment, Nico starts serving his own pesto, realizing that John has picked your favorite Italian restaurant. You don’t eat there very often, at least not inside, but you always order delivery or takeout. It was a place you used to eat at with your parents when you were a child, but ever since falling out with them, you don’t go inside.

Nico’s not sure if you’re more afraid of seeing them in there or not seeing them in there. Of realizing that they’ve got a whole different life now, one that doesn’t include the place you all shared.

“Thank god she’s eating,” Timo suddenly says, appearing by Nico’s side and picking up his own plate. In tandem, the two of them switch off serving from the numerous different platters.

“Yeah she’s not in the best mood,” Nico agrees, quietly. “She’s not a big of surprises either though so you might’ve pissed her off even more.”

Timo’s mouth falls open. “What? Are you serious? She’s more mad?”

Nico shrugs. You’re not mad exactly, more annoyed maybe but even that doesn’t describe it entirely. You just look…uncomfortable and defensive.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he finally explains, glancing down the table to where you and Luke are digging through the garlic bread for the biggest piece. “I’m hoping she’ll talk to me after she eats.”

“Weird,” Timo hums, thoughtfully. They sit in brief moment of silence before Timo looks around as if realizing something.

“Do you think it’s everybody?” He asks, hushed. “I mean she’s close with the stooges that live here and Johnny but everyone else…”

“Not so much,” Nico adds, a lightbulb going off in his head. Technically they’re his friends, at least in your eye they are. You’re putting up walls because you feel like the odd one out, surrounded by people that have been in Nico’s life for years but barely scratched the surface in yours.

You’ve always had a hard time letting people in for real, letting them see more than just the surface. You’d been taught from a young age how to present yourself, what others should see and Nico has seen first hand what that upbringing has done to hurt you.

Sighing softly, Nico shares a knowing look with Timo before they follow you down the line of the table, grabbing their last few items before crowding around the round table you followed Luke too.

Nico takes the seat next to you, left hand finding your thigh in what he hopes in a comforting presence. You glance at him, smiling softly in thanks before turning to Timo on the other side of the table.

“A quick errand huh?” You tease, “you’re lucky I didn’t hit you harder for this.”

Timo scoffs, a smile playing at his lips. “I should’ve hit you harder for calling me a bitch.”

Pleased with yourself, you giggle, all beautiful and bubbly, twirling your fork in your pasta. Jack, lazily picking at the label of a beer bottle, snorts.

"The whole place heard that, by the way-" he must kick Timo under the table because he flinches, glaring over at Jack "you little bitch."

Suddenly offended, you scoff and jostle Nico's hand as you kick Jack in this shin even harder than he kicked Timo. "Hey, only I get to call him that!"

The meal seems to ease you. You've still got a little bite to your attitude, snarky comments directed at almost all the boys and then you slink back into Nico's arm, batting your eyelashes at him when the boys whine. He knows the game, knows exactly what you're doing. Lucky for you, Nico has always been down to play your games, knows that he'll always end up on the receiving end if he aids you, so he keeps quite and broody, silencing the boys with a look when they start to bitch at him.

What can Nico say except happy wife, happy life, right?

And you are happy, at least you look like you’re trying to be happy but eventually the food is cleared away and Jack is setting up his switch for everyone to take turns playing Just Dance and Nico can see the moment you look around and panic.

No one has volunteered to go first yet, no one fighting over spots but he’s certain Nola and Jonas are about to spin around and pin first game to you and Nico. You must know it too because you’re slow to move from the table, cautious eyes watching everyone else get up and for a second, it’s like you’ve forgotten Nico is even there. Sly, like you’re going to follow behind Timo to the dance area, you get up from the table and Nico follows suite, prepared to follow whatever path you feel like taking today.

Except you pause, hanging back behind everyone and then you’re moving for the hallway to the bedrooms, quick like you’re trying to make a getaway. You only get a couple steps before freezing, turning around with wide and glossy eyes to meet his confused gaze.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

Wordlessly, you hold your hand out to him and he takes it, letting you lead him down the hall and into Alex's room. You drop his hand and he locks the door, turning to you at the choked sound of your breathing.

It's been awhile but he knows that sound. Remembers listening for it every time the sound of glass clinking or shattering filled the air. Remembers waking up to it in the middle of the night, listening to you gasp and wheezy against his neck while he held you, begging you to focus on him, to follow his lead.

"Baby," he calls, carefully and softly. He should've known this would happen, should've known that it was adrenaline keeping you going in Switzerland, that as soon as you were home with no distraction it would all hit. You were hurt, badly, twice by his family and he should've done something. He should've been told about this party, given a warning so that he could tell Timo no, that you're not ready to be in this environment.

But he was too caught up in everything, blinded by the rose tinted glasses, by the engagement honeymoon with you.

"M'fine," you say, but you're holding a hand over your heart, choking in shallow breathes, and he's knows you're not fine.

Nico does what he knows best. He gathers you up in his arms, a hand on the back of your neck and you bury your nose in his shoulder, rigid and trembling as he squeezes you as tightly as he can.

“I’m ok, really.” You mumble into his shirt, and he nods. You’re ok, here with him. He knows you’re ok, because you’re always ok with him. Even when you’re panicking like this, when your fear of something has clawed its way into your lungs and is suffocating, he knows you’ll be ok.

But he likes to hold you through it, to hold you steady, to be there to fight for you if you need him to.

He waits until your breathing has leveled, the muscles of your back and neck relaxing under his hands.

“Please talk to me baby,” he begs, resting his chin on top of your head. “What happened? I mean, you haven’t had a panic attack since-“

“Switzerland,” you cut him off, meekly. “I had one in Switzerland.”

Nico hesitates. You had one in Switzerland? He hadn't been told, hadn't been there for that. It couldn't have been when he was sleeping, because he always wakes up when you do, has ever since Philly. So when was it? Why did you hide it from him?

"When?" He asks, and then he suddenly has the devasting thought that maybe it was that night he left you in the hospital by yourself, hoping you'd simply sleep through all the bad things.

"At the party," you whisper, "when I said I went out for fresh air it."

You were lying, in a way. Maybe you were going for fresh air, hoping it would curb the attack, or maybe you were running from the party to fight through it alone. Either way, it happened right under his nose and not only did he miss that, it lead to Lena getting her hands on you.

This is even worse than him originally thinking it happened in the hospital. At least then he was doing something productive, not just distracted by poker and beer, and at least in the hospital you would've had doctors and nurses and Nina.

Nico hides his face in your hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to find off the wave of guilt making his head spin.

"What happened?" He begs, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was too hard," you respond, not much of an answer but he doesn't have to prod anymore, because here, in his arms, you let the words pour out of your mouth freely. Things you've been holding in for weeks. Things that he missed.

"I couldn't make friends with those girls Nico, even when I tried. I didn't get their jokes and I don't get Swiss German and I was nobody to them. I just-freaked out I guess. All of sudden everything was too much.

"I was being watched and didn't know by who, and I was so mad at you but I couldn't say it and you were mad at me too, and I just didn't know anything."

Stupid, Nico thinks, he's so fucking stupid. For this whole thing, this whole trip. He should've just mailed the ring to the states and proposed to you here, somewhere safe. Instead he tried to play the whole boy-next-door bit, taking you to his childhood home to meet his family and his friends, to try and be the carefree and social teenager he used to be. Stupidly, he thought maybe you'd see that his life at least had some love in it, that he's capable of loving you forever.

He should've known that after everything he did, he can't be his old self in his old home ever again. All he did was let you get hurt.

"I tried to look at you, to look for you but then I couldn't breathe and I was just running. It wasn't until I was outside that I realized what I did but then-"

"I know," Nico interjects, not wanting to here this again. He'd heard it one too many times already, saw the footage one too many times already.

The room goes still. You wrap your arms around his waist, step further into his chest until your clinging to him like a lifeline. He holds you like he's trying to hold every little piece together.

"Why is it so hard?" You whisper after a moment, sounding so small. "Making friends? Why can't I just talk to them? Even Nola and Nicole, I don't-"

You don't finish the sentence. You don't have too. Nico already understands. All this time it's been you and him, you and Timo. He cushioned you after your friends and family rejected you, surrounded you with him and Timo and the boys he knew loved you because he never wanted you to feel out of place again. But he also made it harder for you to step away, to let more people into your life. There was no room, no need for anyone else because he was trying to be everything for you.

He can't speak. His throat has gotten choked up with every stupid little mistake he made that got you to this point. It like a huge snowball, building up and up until it turned into an avalanche pouring down on you. And at the center of it all is him being the one that took you away from your family, that divided you and your friends.

"You're my best friend Nico," you say, certain and proud, tone stronger than before. "You have been for a long time."

He can feel your smile against his neck, the way you squeeze him just a little tighter and it rattles something lose in his throat, gives him enough space to speak. "You're my best friend too."

It's different than with Timo and the boys. Obviously Timo is his best friend too, has been since they were kids and Timo moved into his neighborhood. And he'd still say Timo is his best friend, just as you consider him.

But his friendship is different with you. He doesn't even know how to explain it. You know him so deeply, inside and out, and have always loved everything about him. He doesn't really believe in soulmates, never saw any evidence in the world of two people belonging so wholly to each other, but you might be his. How else would the universe explain how he feels about you?

Because best friends doesn't feel like enough even if it's true. And girlfriend doesn't either, so he made you his fiancée, yet that's not enough either, so he'll make you his wife. Somehow he knows that won't encompass everything the way it should either.

Your his soulmate.

"Maybe I was just meant to have you," you say thoughtfully, "like the world used up all my friendships in you."

It's a somewhat sad thought, even if it's sweet.

"I think what we have is something else entirely," Nico tells you, "And I think sometimes it's just hard to find real friends, especially with the life we have."

"What if it's just me? What if I'm unlikeable?"

Nico almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. You and unlikeable shouldn't even be in the same sentence. He's never seen anyone dislike you. Even your shitty college friends. They liked you so much they hated him. It's always been obvious that they weren't exactly concerned for your safety running around with him and the mob. Even if that was the excuse. No, they were upset because he was sending private drivers and cars to pick you up whenever you asked, reserving you VIP spots at clubs and bars in Jersey, letting you bring them along even if his boys never showed an interest in any of them

The problem was never you.

"It's not you baby," he swears, "Everyone loves you, especially the boys. Look at how they tripped over themselves to get to you first today. How they dropped everything and went to Switzerland for you, no questions asked."

You make an unconvinced noise. “They’re loyal to me because you told them to be.”

He shakes his head, wondering how you can be so smart but so oblivious at the same time. “Mercer is for sure on your side. He bit my head off in Switzerland for letting you get hurt.”

“He only went with me to get rid of Rino because you told him to pick me." You insist, "And yeah Timo is my friend but he was really yours first.”

Nico doesn't even know what else to say. It's like he's holding a bright neon sign in front of your fac but you won't open your eyes. Baby…”

“Remember when Jack said I only have friends you pay to hang around me?" You ask and Nico scowls. Yes, he does remember that. And he remembers giving Jack the worst shifts and jobs for a whole week after that, because even if it was a joke made during a stupid TikTok, it was too far. "Maybe he was right and that’s fine because it hurts less to have to have to pay for my friends than have them just never choose me.”

You say it so casually, so innocently. Like it's the only right answer, the only thing you fully believe. You've actually accepted this crazy idea that you don't deserve friends. Nico wishes he could track down every painfully moment that led you to thinking that and wipe it from existence.

Instead, he focuses on what he knows he can prove to you, on the things happening right in front of you.

"The girls are choosing you," he says, gently because the last thing he wants to do is scare you away, to make you shut down by insisting you're wrong. "They threw his whole party for you-"

"For us."

"For us," he amends, "but it's still for you too. They're trying to be your friend. I think they just don’t know how.”

You hum, unimpressed. "What do you mean?"

"It's different for you in the Devs, they know that. They know you have to be more careful, have to not be so trusting and I think they don't really know how to get around that."

He's caught your attention with that one, can tell by the way you start to mindlessly fiddle with the hem of his sweater behind his back, thinking. “I don’t know how to either Nico. The only person I’ve ever won over is you.”

Oh, you're so sweet and beautiful and dumb sometimes, Nico thinks lovingly. You didn't win him over because there was never any competition. From the very second he saw you at the Rock, when that perfect smile of yours caught his eye, that was it. He couldn't even put up a fight.

He moves to peer down at you, warmth alighting his chest when you rest your chin on him, look up at him with curious and vulnerable eyes.

“You somehow got Katja to be a mother so you’re a lot more impressionable than you think.” He assures. You get that flustered look on your face, cheeks tinging red and he can't help but trace the little splotches with his thumb.

"I know people sold you short your whole life baby, but you shouldn't. We all love you here, all want you here. It's just hard for everyone to know how to get you to open up. After everything with Philly and then me basically hiding you away, they're just afraid of doing something wrong."

"Probably more scared of you then me." You mutter, a teasing glint in your eye. Nico eases up, muscles relaxing at your playfulness.

"Maybe," he agrees, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can peck a kiss to your cheekbone. "You going to be ok?"

You nod.

"Are we still giving Timo a hard time?"

You hum, thinking and he laughs. "No I guess not, but I'm not saying sorry either."

"You don't have to." He assures, "you weren't mean, just teasing."

Knowing he's lying you giggle, rising to your toes and catching his lips in a kiss. Nico lets you have a few minutes of just kisses and giggles, easing you as much as possible before going back out to the party.

You rejoin the party and if anyone notices your absence, they don't comment on it. He thinks maybe Timo covered for you, because he catches his friends eye across the room, nodding when Timo simply raises an eyebrow.

Just Dance has turned into some kind of Nintendo Sports Golf tournament, most of the boys and kids entertained by the video game on the giant TV. But the girls are still lingering around the tables, chatting idly and sipping flutes of champagne. Nico catches you watching them, sees the nervous rise and fall of your chest.

You can do this, he says internally, sends the good thought your way because he knows you've always had a way of reading his mind. Squeezing his hand, you look to him with pleading eyes. Nico just barely has to smile, tilting his head as if to say go ahead, I've got you baby.

You let out a calming breath, lips curling just the slightest bit and then you're letting go of his fingers, making your way over to the table with Nicole and Nola and some of the others. They greet you eagerly, making room for you around the table and Kristen pours you a flute of champagne.

Nico watches you for a moment, notices the still nervous shake of your hands and the way your smile has gone shy, but you make no move to run. In fact, your letting them tug on your left hand to see your ring, leaning in to talk excitedly with Nola and then he lets himself wonder over to Timo and Jonas.

"Can't believe you gave my best friend away," Timo teases him, holding out a beer for Nico to take. Jonas laughs too, looking over towards the girl and then giving Nico an impressed look.

"Thought it'd take a few more tries to get her to leave your side."

Timo snorts. "More like get him to leave her side."

Nico thinks of maybe defending himself but he can't because he does feel oddly lacking without you. Even if you're just across the room, it's weird to not have you looking at him from time to time, or running over to tell him something, or just to give him a kiss. Not detrimentally so, but enough the he feels a bit awkward, doesn't know what to do the hand that's usually thrown over you shoulder or resting on your lower back.

It's a welcome ache though, worth the slight discomfort, because that night when it's just the two of you again, you tell him all about Nicole going to the rival high school, how she didn't grow up too far from you actually, and Nola wants to try yoga but won't go alone and hates going with Jonas so she's gonna try it with you and Timo.

And he practically kisses you silly when you curl into side under the covers, peeking up at him with wet eyes and a watery smile when you whisper, "I made friends Nico."

~~~~

An overwhelming amount of papers lay across his desk, the cute little knickknacks and framed photo of you and him at a concert last summer wiped away and stacked off to the side to make room for everything.

Nico doesn’t know how you’ll react, if you’ll even want to read through all this stuff but he laid it out for you anyway. You like reading, like analyzing numbers and information like this. He remembers how well you did it with what you so fondly called the Steel Deal. The acquisition of Johnny from the Penguins.

The memory of you, proud and confident when you presented him with that deal -more like surprised him with it actually- because he hadn’t even thought about trying to bring Johnny to Jersey. And he hadn’t thought you’d want to be doing deals for the Devs after Philly. He thought you’d want to keep a low profile.

Instead, after the initial recovery, you jumped head first into training with Timo, into learning anything and everything they were willing to teach you, into tagging along with Nico on routine check ups around the city.

He thinks of that girl, by his side for everything, so certain in her place. It took work but you seemed to find your spot, to find the things you genuinely liked doing for the Devs. He could see the way it eased you, you smiled easier, went through the day happy, knowing you found somewhere you belonged.

And he thinks of the girl he saw at the engagement party a few days ago, how unsure she was, how defensive. He hasn’t seen you like that since those few months stretching between him breaking up with you and coming home from Philly.

You weren’t happy then, weren’t yourself. It was like a shell of the person he knows and loves. You looked small, felt small, and Nico swore then and there he’d never let you feel like that again. He’d always show you that you’re worth a lot more than you think.

But he coddled you too much, and while it’s kept you pretty safe so far, it’s also hurt you. He wrapped you in a safety net and tied it tight, didn’t leave room for you to grow under his protection. Nico didn’t encourage you the way he should’ve.

He’ll spend the rest of his life being your biggest fan.

Starting here. In this mess of papers and contracts and legal documents.

His biggest deal. His smartest decision. This is what he’ll be remembered for. At least he hopes.

Nico doesn’t know where in the house you are, he just knows that you and Timo got back a little bit ago with hoards of grocery bags on your arms. Staring there, he lightly closes the door to his office and makes his way to the kitchen.

He pauses outside the living room, finding you on the couch in a surprisingly darker environment than he thought it’d be. Maybe it wasn’t just a little bit ago that he saw Timo because it’s well past five judging by the darkness outside the windows and his friend is no where to be seen.

You’re laying in the corner of the couch, nestled in the cushions that have gotten overly soft from you and him always favoring that spot. A fluffy white blanket is thrown over your lap, bunched up against your torso but not enough to hide that fact that you’ve got one of his crewnecks on, a soft grey one that has St. Moritz stitched into it with a little embroidered Swiss flag underneath.

Nico’s had that thing for years. Luca had bought it for him when he was about 13 during a birthday trip for Nico. It was on sale because all that was left in size was a 2XL in US sizes but the fabric was soft and Nico kept rubbing his fingers on the sleeve when he walked by it.

Luckily he grew into it and a decade later the thing is still hanging on, even if Nico doesn’t wear it anymore. You wear it plenty though, especially around the holidays and he wonders what about it makes you pull it out every November.

Moose, curled up at your feet on couch lifts his head when Nico moves into the living room. You pull your gaze from the television, looking to Nico and he smiles at the way your eyes go starry.

“Done with work?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip and he feels a little bad for not paying attention to the time, for working late when he didn’t mean to. It’s obvious by your expression that you’ve been patiently waiting for him, not wanting to interrupt him working.

He leans over you, hands sinking into the couch cushions and presses a kiss to your lips. “Need you to come look at something real quick,” he says, then kisses you again.

“Then you’ll be done?”

You’re so sweet, trying to be subtle about wanting his attention. It’s funny that in moments like this, when it’s pertained to work, you’ll be polite, but any other time you get demanding and whiny.

Or mean, he laughs to himself, thinking of you with Timo earlier this week.

“Then I’ll be all yours.” He confirms.

A slow smile takes over your face. Taking that as an agreement, Nico tugs the blanket off of you, tossing it over Moose. The dog doesn’t budge, remaining curled up in the warmth.

Taking your hand, Nico leads you down the hall and to his office. You pause in the doorway, taken aback as you look over the state of his office.

“Did you work from home all day?”

Nico hums, ushering you in with a hand on your hip. “Started the morning at Sötis,” he explains, leaning back against the doorway as you trail further into the room.

“And then came home to do some light reading?” You tease, rounding his desk. Just as he expected, you trail your fingers over the top papers, glancing at all the information laid out.

Briefly, you look up at him through your eyelashes, innocently awaiting his reaction. He wouldn’t ever stop you from knowing important information about the Devils, wouldn’t deny you the knowledge of the business.

Especially not a business that is half yours.

“Go ahead,” he encourages. Not needing to be told twice, you drag his chair over and curl up in it, shifting through the stacks. He’s patient, watching you greedily read every word laid out before you.

He’s not sure which stack you’re currently on but he knows exactly which one is going to make you jump from that chair. The one littered with your name, signed and authorized by him and made legal by his lawyers.

Nico wasn’t exactly keeping it from you. If you ever asked, ever sifted through his desk just for the hell of it, he would’ve been fine with you knowing. It’s taken him months to get it all written up, properly laid out.

But it wasn’t until the engagement party that he officially signed the last bit of his plans. The papers dividing the Devils organization into two halves.

“Nico,” you mumble, a hint of disbelief in your tone. A sly smile curls at his lips, seeing the pinch between your eyebrows and the confusion in your gaze. Under it all though, is a hint of awe.

“What is this?”

He pushes off the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and he plays the fool. “I don’t know. What does it say?”

You blink, look back down at the papers and then up at him. “It says I own Hischier enterprises.”

Trying not to laugh, Nico hums and looks over your shoulder, ignoring the way your craning your neck to look up at him, to find answers in his features.

“Would you look at that,” he says, running his hand through your hair, settling it on your neck. “It sure does.”

He does laugh when you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up from his chair and placing the contacts back on his desk. Taking a hold of his shoulders, he lets you steer him into the chair, kneeing his legs apart so you can settle in his lap.

You collect the papers again, holding them in front of him. “Explain. Now.”

So he does. Yeah he could wait and make you read through it all on your own, realize what he’s been working on for the past few months, but it’ll mean more from him.

Reading it makes it seem like business, like he’s forcing this change upon you. Hearing it from him though, is how it should be. He can explain that it’s not just because, that it’s not just a deal. You’ve earned this, you deserve this.

After everything you gone through with him, this is yours. And come what may, it’ll always be yours.

Nico has officially turned the Devils into a legal entity under the name Hischier Enterprises. The official parent company of the Rock, Sötis, Red Rose Flower Boutique, and more. Every business the Devils have stock in, have partner ownership of, is now under Hischier Enterprises.

Starting January 1st, the newly appointed CEO is none other than Y/n Hischier.

He can see the moment it hits you. When your eyes go all moony and look to him like he might be crazy, like he maybe made the worst decision ever but you still love him for it.

“That’s crazy,” you say, as if your face wasn’t already telling him that. “I can’t run the devils, I mean where are you? Your name isn’t on any of this anymore Nico.”

He pries your left hand off the contract, bringing it up to his lips to press a calming kiss to the back of it. You let out a slow breath at the action, sinking into the arm he’s got wrapped around you.

“No my name isn’t on it. I’m in charge of the other half now.”

Before you can so much as take another breath, he continues, all the while soothingly trailing his thumb up your ring finger until it meets the cool metal of your ring, and then down to your freshly manicured nail.

Your name is on everything because he’s just made the Devils legal through Hischier Enterprises, and he’s done it under the name of someone with a squeaky clean record, someone who has no trace back to organized crime. You.

As for him and the boys, the Devils will remain operational just as they had before. Instead of him juggling both the welfare of their protected companies and the Devs activities off the books, he’ll simply do the latter. You’re now in charge of managing books, expanding investments, and protection. The legal face of the Devils.

Nico and his boys will keep up their under the table deals, their Jersey contracts, the buy offs and bribes. Everything illegal will be kept away from you. In fact the only time Hischier Enterprises will ever technically be doing business with the Devs, will be when Nico feeds money through the businesses to make it clean.

“You’re giving me all of this?” You ask in disbelief. “What about the others? I mean Jesper and Jonas have been around this whole time. Even Timo, he should be doing this-“

“He will be,” Nico interjects “if you want him too. You’ll need a team to join you, and all of the boys know they’re available to you. So whoever you choose will be working under you now.

“I’ve got some recommendations of course. Keep Timo obviously. You two work together better than him and I ever have. I’d like to offer up Mercer too though, give him a bigger role. I think we both know after Switzerland that he’s ready for it.”

Nico gives you a moment to think, to take it all in. It’s a lot, he knows that. You do looked a little more shocked than he thought you would, like you never imagined you’d be this important to the Devils. It almost makes him laugh, how you still don’t get it.

Maybe he’ll be spending the rest of his life still trying to convince you that you’re the heart of the Devils.

Finally, a look of acceptance washes over you. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you sit up straight, taking on an air of leadership.

There she is, Nico thinks. This is the girl that he’s put in charge, the one that knows herself, is sure of herself. The smart girl that took his breath away from the moment she opened her mouth.

“I’ll take Mercer,” you agree, eyes looking at him with so much warmth he already knows he’s going to agree to whatever comes out of your mouth next. “If you keep Jack.”

“Okay,” Nico agrees easily, but you’re not done. Holding up a finger to stop him.

“As your second hand.”

He already knows where this is going. You’re going to take Luke, train him under you, and Nico will keep Jack. They’ve been at each other’s sides since the moment Luke got here, and then he got lost in the mess of cleaning you up after Philly.

Luke’s abilities have taken a back seat, tucked away by his brother acting as boss for the first few months of his time in Jersey. He hasn’t been able to grow and Jack has been held back making up for it.

Separate them and they’ll have room to grow.

Most importantly though, you trust Jack to have Nico’s back. If you and him are going to be running things separately now, if you’re going to be taking some of his men, you’re going to leave the one you know would protect him the way you would. And Jack is that guy.

Just to be sure, he asks, “Jack? You believe in him enough to do that?”

There’s no hesitation in your response. “Yeah I do.”

He nods and that’s that. Come the new year and Jack will begin training to back up Nico.

Pleased, you smile and tuck the papers back into a pile, sitting back into his hold. He presses his thumb into the dimple on your back, tucking you under his chin and giving you time to let it all hit.

He can’t bombard you with the rest, not until you’re ready.

“I can’t believe you did this Nico,” you say after a while, a hint of giddiness in your tone. Chuckling, he flexes his leg to jolt you. Your hand grabs at his stomach, using him to steady yourself.

“You didn’t think all that training with Timo and me was for nothing, did ya?”

It’s out there now. This was always the plan. For years it’s been the plan. The universe threw the smartest, most determined woman in the world in his lap and he didn’t take it for granted.

You were always meant for this.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just trusted you and Timo. Knew it would all work out.”

Nico presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Smart girl,” he compliments, then pats at your hip to get you to sit up. “Something else here for ya, baby.”

He presses his chest to you back, leaning over the desk with you and he points out which files are for which businesses, which stack holds all the information on the boys in case you want to study up on their numbers before choosing. Just as you’d done so beautifully with Johnny. He shows you the folder with potential future investments, the ethical studies and profit profiles on them. All things he knows you and Timo are capable of doing. Will happily do.

Eventually, he gets to the last folder. Slides it across the desk until it sits in front of you, begging to be opened.

Assets.

Nico squeezes your side encouragingly, and your nimble fingers flip it open. Inside lays every document listing every one of his personal assets. The vehicles in the garage, the Suite at MetLife, the jet, the penthouse apartment he lived in when he met you, the house you’re currently sat in, and the one you stayed at all the way in Switzerland.

At the top of every single one is your name.

Signing that last one over was a trick, because he needed another Hischier witness to sign alongside him. But Luca was more than happy, even if he did grill Nico a bit about sighing all his property and worth over to you.

Add it all up and it’s still not worth her, Nico had said in explanation. It went unspoken but they both knew his intention.

You get it all and Nico gets you.

“You didn’t,” you gasp, slamming the folder shut. Like it won’t be true if you can’t see it. “Nico you did not take your name off of everything.”

You shove the file back across the desk, tucking your hands between your thighs and he laughs. He didn’t really know what he was expecting reaction wise but wigging out like this wouldn’t have been high on the list.

“Sure I did,” he says, casually. “As soon as we get married it’ll be half mine again anyway.”

Shaking your head, you lean back into his arm to get a better look at him. Nico smiles, ignoring the judgmental gleam in your eye.

“Why did you do this?”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why did you do this? We’re getting married and like you said, it would have been half mine then. So why sign it over now?”

You’re not angry, not upset him but there’s something there he can’t quite place. Almost like you’re waiting for a bomb to drop, for him to admit there was some ulterior motive here.

In a way, there is, though it’s not in the way you so obviously think it is.

“Everything but the house in Switzerland was under your name since the moment we bought this one.” He admits, meeting your unwavering gaze. You’re waiting to see if he’s lying, if he’ll give away something else. There’s nothing to give away though, and you tilt your head with curiosity when you realize he’s not hiding.

“After Philly, I wanted you to be safe. I told you that I’d always take care of you, and I did.”

You blink, unrelenting and he smiles a bit. He wasn’t lying when he said you’re the smartest person he knows but once again, you won’t look at what’s right in front of you.

If there’s one thing he’s learned to do since meeting you, it’s how to speak his thoughts. It doesn’t always come easy, but when you’re looking at him with those Bambi eyes, it’s simple.

He explains that the little work he did in the months after Philly was signing his assets over to you. He knew it would all be yours one day anyway so why not now? It was what’s best.

Because him putting your name on those papers provided you with everything you’d ever need. In the event that something ever happened to him, that he wasn’t fit to be boss anymore, that he somehow didn’t make it home to you, you’d never have to worry. You’d have the homes, the card, the money, and most importantly the Devils.

In the event of Nico doing something stupid like dying, you’re the new head of the family.

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You ask incredulously, “Since then?”

Nico nods, like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t. This whole time, the endgame was you. Everything he is, everything he has, it’s always been yours.

“I told you when I got you back that I was making sure I was ready for you, prepared for you.” He says, fingers finding the chain on your neck. Pulling it out of his hoodie on your frame, Nico fiddles with the pendant and ring. “I don’t live the safest life, I know that. So if something ever happened to me, I had to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

You’re silent and Nico looks up to see your reaction, pauses when he realizes you just watching him with glossy eyes, bottom lip bitten between your teeth

Finally you blink, shaking your head softly. “You’re stupid if you think you could just up and I die and I wouldn’t have any say in it.”

It’s impossible, not that either of you say that. Actually if Nico thinks about it, you might just have a say in it. You’re so stubborn, so capable, maybe you could drag him back from the afterlife.

He leans in to touch his lips to yours, smiling against them when you run your fingers through his hair, cradle his face so gently. “No need to worry then.”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, the words hot on his mouth “I worry about you all the time.”

Nico pulls back at the heaviness of your tone, searching your face to see what happened to the sweet girl that was holding him just a moment ago. Instead you look concerned, lips drooped in a frown and eyes rounded with sadness.

When he doesn’t say anything, you press on. “I don’t want any of this stuff if I don’t have you Nico. It’s not-“

He kisses you, locking his fingers around your throat in that way he knows makes you go boneless. This conversation wasn’t meant to make you teary, to make you upset at the thought of him not being here with you. But he can’t not have a plan in place.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he left you unprepared. Vulnerable.

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then,” he says into your lips, your fingers pressing in tighter on his scalp, hanging onto his every word.

Nothing could ever take him away from you, not without a fight.

Hours later, with the documents on his desk forgotten and the office door locked tight, you bring it up again.

It’s too early to be watching a Christmas movie but you’ve got a Charlie Brown Christmas playing on the tv, the only light in the living room coming from the flickering flames of the fireplace and the flashes on the screen.

Moose is sprawled out on the carpet, too close to the fire for how thick is fur is and that’s evident in the way he occasionally pants and squirms to a new cool space on the floor.

Laying against his chest in that corner of the couch you two love, you tilt your chin to look up at him. Nico thinks about making a joke, teasing that he can see up your nose or that you’re gonna get a crick in your neck.

The serious look in your eye stops him.

“What about the boys?” You ask, quiet and Nico strokes his hand up and down your arm.

“What boys?”

“The Devs boys,” you explain “The ones that have been with you since the beginning. You wouldn’t give it all to them instead?”

Nico had the talk with them, wanted to give them all a chance to plead their case. Jesper didn’t have one, just wanted to make sure Sötis was still his. Jonas only wanted to keep his job and his home with Nola.

As for Timo, he asked for nothing. His friend that had every right to demand it all, didn’t demand anything. He just smiled at Nico with that knowing look, like he knew this whole time that Nico would give the Devs to you.

“They agreed,” he says carefully. The last thing he needs is you panicking again, realizing that all these people have your back and freaking out on him. He’s still working on easing you into being real friends with them.

“They just agreed?” You ask, shifting to look straight at him instead of upside down. He already knows what you’re thinking. The boys know the business better, helped him build it. Why shouldn’t they run it?

“They all know and agreed that you’re in charge after me. Even if you didn’t know what you were doing at first, they all agreed they’d follow you.”

Timo’s condition to Nico signing everything over to you. It wasn’t so much a condition as it was a promise, but him and Nico one by one made sure all the boys were okay with the plan.

They’d teach you everything, and Timo would make sure you stayed safe and protected.

You don’t say anything. Just settle back into his chest, tugging his arm so that it rests heavy over your chest, your arms hugging his bicep. He’s not sure how much of the movie you actually watch, that thoughtful wrinkle between your eyebrows the whole time but when he takes you up to bed, you sleep soundly.

Knowing you’re protected and safe. Always.

~~~~

“Nico,” you whine, annoyed and begging. Your tone, on the edge of alarming, has him setting his phone down and looking up to you in concern.

Across the island, you stand with both hands held out in front of you, a kitchen knife hanging limply in your fingers. At first he thinks you’ve cut yourself, especially when he gets a good look at your face and sees tears trailing down your cheeks, eyes angry and red.

“Baby,” he gasps, jumping up from the tall chair and rushing around the counter. You drop the knife, let it clatter to the cutting board where a half chopped pile of onions lay.

“What?” He asks in confusion, because there’s not a drop of blood anywhere. Getting a better look at you, noticing his sunglasses haphazardly pushed onto the top of your head, he realizes what’s going on.

“I can’t cut the onion,” you pout, another tear rolling down your cheek. Your fingers reach up to swipe at it and he yelps to stop you.

“I got it,” he says, shooing your hands away and wiping at your cheeks with his own fingers. “Close ‘em,” he instructs, then carefully swipes at your wet eyelashes to dry any remaining tears.

Bleary, you blink your eyes open and he nudges you towards the sink. He waits for the sound of the water running before taking up your spot at the counter, fingers diligently swiping the knife through the remaining chunks of onion.

“You’ve got eyes of steel or something,” you grumble, fingers tangled in a dish towel as you come over to watch him. His sunglasses slip down your forehead, catching crookedly on your nose and he snorts in amusement.

“S’mental game,” he says gruffly, standing up taller and flexing his arms and chest. The move makes you giggle, tossing the towel at the side of his head and he ducks, letting it fly straight over him and onto the far counter.

You roll your eyes, his sunglasses now tucked in your hand. “You just have to be good at everything, don’t you?”

Turning your back to him, you return his glasses to their spot on the counter by the garage door, right under all the car keys. He laughs at your dramatizing, scooping up the diced onion and dropping it into the pan you’ve got warming on the stove.

“Not dinner,” he says, swiping away any remains of the vegetable and going to wash his hands. “So you can take over again.”

Not needing to be told twice, you go back to the cutting board, wrinkling your nose at the lingering burning scent of the onions.

“Will you start making a list of groceries for Thanksgiving?” You ask him sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him when he slumps back into his chair with a huff.

The holidays have always been a big deal to you. You plan them for weeks, every little detail from seating cards to the layout of the table. He never really cared for them too much, at least not Thanksgiving since he doesn’t really understand the politics of the holiday and whether or not he should be celebrating it. But you’re American and you enjoy it so he goes along with it.

It’s about family, you always told him. Traditions and being together is what makes you all a family. Nico didn’t have a lot of that until you came around so if making lists and cooking for hours and hanging leafs and placing cornucopias and eating chocolate turkeys is about family, then sign him up.

He’ll still grumble and huff about it though, mostly just to get to you.

“Don’t be like that,” you beg him, laying slivers of chicken into the sizzling pan with the onions. “You love Thanksgiving!”

“I love all the food,” he corrects, which is true. Between him and Luke, there’s never many leftovers for you guys to choke down the whole week after Thanksgiving. And while you’ve never had a problem with how much Nico eats, this is one of those holidays that he doesn’t have to feel too bad about consuming twice as much food as everyone around him. It’s the spirit of the holiday.

“Which is why you’re in charge of writing it all down,” you chirp, hand on your hip as you peer down at the stove with a pair of tongs in hand.

He always teases you for being weird about cooking chicken, but you have some phobia of getting salmonella and insist on watching the meat cook thoroughly with your own two eyes.

“You’re better at planning, ya know?” He says, but he’s already making a new shared note on his phone, listing the basics; turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc.

“Ok, Mr. I-Already-Have-My-Will-Written-Out,” you mock, shooting him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Besides, you better get used to it because I am not planning our wedding by myself.”

The words just slip out. “I already started that.”

The kitchen goes silent for a moment, only the sizzling of the stove breaking the silence. Nico blushes, looking up from his phone and to his horror you’ve abandoned your watchtower overlooking the chicken.

“What?” You ask, lips curling into a shocked smile.

He shrugs, playing it cool. “Just small stuff. Some color ideas and like flowers. Maybe the time of year, that stuff.”

“When did you start doing that?”

Nico doesn’t want to admit that he’s had his mind on this for months, worries that maybe you’ll admit you hadn’t thought about it. That you’ll think it’s weird for him to have thought so much about it.

Dropping his gaze, he rushes out an explanation. “I uh saw something on Pinterest that made me think of you so I saved it and then all of sudden I just kept adding stuff.”

He hears the stove click, looks up from his phone again to find you crossing the kitchen towards him. You’ve got that moony look in your eyes again, cheeks just a little pink and warmth blooms in his chest, shy and sweet.

“What colors?” You ask carefully, stepping behind him. He’s about to complain, about to pull you into his lap but then your hands are rubbing over his shoulders, slipping down the front of his chest and you lean heavily into his back.

It’s a nice feeling, shielded. Almost how you hold him that night in Switzerland, after his brain warped his old childhood nightmare into something worse. Warped him into his father.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, tilting his head into yours when you press an encouraging kiss to his temple. “I thought maybe light blue and white? I know white like a wedding basic but the blue looks nice with it.”

He can feel you smile. “Yeah it does,” you agree, “baby blue? Like the hydrangea flower?”

Nico doesn’t know what flower that is. It is a baby blue though, more inspired by one of the pretty summer dresses you have. You wore it to brunch with him once, brand new and so perfect it looked like the designer had you in mind specifically when they made it. And you just looked so good he couldn’t help it, picturing you holding a baby blue bouquet in a white dress.

Then Pinterest read his mind because two days later he had baby blue wedding themes on his dashboard. He saved it, took it as a sign.

“Yeah I guess,” he says, enclosing his hand around yours, pressing them into his chest. “Is that-do you like that color?”

You kiss right beside his eye, a fluttering touch of your lips that makes his skin tickle. “Yeah I do,” you agree, “you look good in those soft colors too.”

Heat crawls up his neck, blooms in his face and he chuckles, flattered. “Thought you liked me in black?”

“I do,” you hum, “s’not my fault you look in good in everything. And nothing.”

Nico snickers, turning to press his nose into your cheek. “Nude wedding out of the question?”

“With all the boys there?” You say with mirth, “are you sure?”

Nico makes a face. Maybe just you and him then. An elopement, something small and intimate.

No that doesn’t sound right. The people you love should be there, the people that love you too. You deserve to walk down the aisle with every eye on you, knowing that today, it’s all about you.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “you can just flash me real quick before you walk down the aisle.”

A happy laugh bubbles out of you, girlish and giddy, so contagious it makes him laugh too. You bury your giggles in his shoulder, hair tickling his face and he strokes over your hand until you look at him again.

“Deal,” you nod, gaze shifting over his face like you’re trying to memorize everything about him, like you’re seeing something new there. Something better. Suddenly, something serious settles over your features.

“Nico,” you whisper, timidly “What if I have no one to invite? My side of the church will be empty.”

A church? Nico didn’t think you’d care for getting married in a church. He certainly doesn’t. He could use that to change the subject, to deflect away the dampened mood brought on by this question.

But this isn’t something he can ignore. You don’t talk about your family very much either, not that he ever wants to hear about them. To him, they’re scum, lower than scum. They’re the worst of the worst for the way they treated you and they don’t even deserve to be on your mind let alone spoken.

He’s wants you to be open though, to be accepting of love from people other than him. He can only do that by sorting through this. Through the much.

“Are you kidding?” Nico replies, keeping his words light. “No way the boys are picking my side over yours. Let’s see how many of them ask to be in your bridal party.”

You’re not deterred.

“Who will walk me down the aisle?”

Quick questions, quick answers. He doesn’t even have to think about it. It’ll always come down to whatever you want.

“Whoever you want to baby. If you want it to be me, I’ll do it. If you want it to be one of the boys, they’ll do it, if you don’t even want the fucking aisle I’ll get rid of it. Whatever you want to do.”

He can see the beginnings of a smile curling at your lips, amused at the idea of him removing an aisle from the wedding. You could do it too. Just come from around the crowd with him, meet in the middle in front of everyone. Just you and him.

“And my family?”

“We’re right here with you baby,” he promises, knowing that’s not exactly the family you’re asking about. He just needs you to know that no matter what, the Devils are family. “But if you want to invite them we can do that too.”

You make a face, like you don’t really want to but maybe you’ll think about it. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, he’d imagine. Not letting your parents know their only child is marrying. Even if they don’t show up, you can still invite them. That way they at least know.

“Really?” You whisper and he nods, squeezing your hand.

“Whoever is supposed to be there for you, will be there. I’m sure of it, baby.” He’ll make sure of it.

You lean in, place a grateful kiss to his lips. “I love you Schao.”

“I love you darling.”

Nico’s tilting his head to kiss you again when his phone buzzes on the countertop, the sound synching up with the chime of your phone in your pocket. Confused, you both pull back to check his screen.

It’s a text from Jack, sent in a group message with both you and Nico, as well as Luke. They never text just him when it’s out of work hours, knowing he’ll likely not check his phone. Unless it’s a phone call to his work phone, he doesn’t need to talk anyone but you.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, and Nico gets a good look at the text, echoing your words.

Quinn invited us to Vancouver after the holidays! And you guys too because Luke said he won’t go without Nico :)

[queen-of-the-avengers]

I Kissed A Girl

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k (including lyrics)

Warnings: high sexual tension

Summary: You go to the club and unwind from a stressful week, not knowing you’re going to try something you end up liking more than your boyfriend.

Square Filled: a round a firsts for @womenofmarvelbingo (previously @blackwidowbingo)

Author’s Note: this is based on the song I Kissed A Girl By Katy Perry

x

This was never the way I planned Not my intention I got so brave, drink in hand Lost my discretion It's not what I'm used to Just wanna try you on I'm curious for you Caught my attention

You grab your fourth drink from the tray and enjoy the burn as you toss the shot back. It’s the end of the week, and what better way to unwind than to be out with your girls at the club? It’s not even work that has you stressed, it’s your boyfriend. He’s treating you more like his mom rather than his girlfriend. It’s exhausting and takes a real toll on your body.

“So, what’s the latest Theodore drama?” your best friend, Harper, asks.

“Well, I was supposed to hang with him tonight, but he decided to blow me off for his ‘boys’. I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in a month. We text, but it’s bland. It’s like all the effort with him has disappeared.”

“Dump his ass!” Violet, your other friend, yells over the loud music.

“Seriously, he’s such a loser,” Luna agrees.

“Maybe I should. There’s no spark anymore. He’s a good boyfriend if you don’t count the way he doesn’t put me first.”

“That’s not a good boyfriend,” Harper says. She grabs another drink from the fifth round and hands one to you. “Here, have a shot. You need to loosen up more.”

‘You’re just trying to get me drunk,” you laugh but take the drink anyway.

“That’s true.”

“Well, I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back!”

You down the shot before pushign your way through the crowd. You’re already buzzed, so it seems like there are more people in the crowd than there actually are. On your way back, you notice a woman dancing by herself in the middle of the dance floor. Men try to get her to dance with them, but she ignores them and continues to feel herself up. She looks so beautiful, you can’t pass her and not dance with her.

“Care for a partner?” you ask.

“Sure,” she grins.

“You here by yourself?”

“Well, not anymore,” she flirts.

You’ve never flirted with a woman before. You’ve only ever had boyfriends. This is something completely new to you, and you’re not upset about it. You step out of your comfort zone and start to dance with her to the beat of the music.

Her lips are cherry red, and you find yourself thinking what it would be like to kiss them.

No, I don't even know your name It doesn't matter You're my experimental game Just human nature It's not what good girls do Not how they should behave My head gets so confused Hard to obey

You don’t know her name, and you honestly don’t want to know it. You just want to be in the moment and enjoy the feelings she’s pulling out of you. Like how it feels really good to dance with her, to have her attention on you. You pull her closer to you so you can speak closer to her ear.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

You make your way back to the bar where your friend sare at. They have a direct line of sight to you on the dance floor, and they’re no less than shocked.

“What are you doing?” Luna asks.

“I honestly have no idea. I have no clue what her name is, and if I’m being completely honest, I kind of want to kiss her.”

“Go for it,” Harper encourages. “Fuck Theodore. He’s not here.”

“You know what? Hell yeah. I’m going to go for it.”

You grab two drinks once they’re ready and head back over to the stranger. Natasha came here to unwind from a grueling work week. She never expected to meet someone, much less meet a woman. She’s always used her body to seduce men for intel and other things she’s needed. She’s never once envisioned herself with a woman until you showed up.

“Here you go,” you say when you reach her.

“Thank you.”

Natasha downs the drink in one go, but some of the liquid drips out of her mouth. You watch the drop of alcohol slide down her jaw, down her neck, and disappear into her cleavage. Fuck. You shouldn’t be thinking such dirty thoughts about anyone, especially since you have a boyfriend. 

Still, that’s not enough to stop you.

Us girls, we are so magical Soft skin, red lips, so kissable Hard to resist, so touchable Too good to deny it Ain't no big deal, it's innocent

The beat of the music rushes through your veins, and you pull Natasha closer to you. She grabs your hips and moves them along yours in tune with the beat. Your eyes are hooded, with your gaze on her lush red lips. So kissable. She’s hard to resist, so you wrap your arms around her neck and press yourself closer to her.

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the want, the need, inside of them. It looks like she wants this as much as you do, so you throw all fucks out the window and go for it.

I kissed a girl and I liked it The taste of her cherry chapstick I kissed a girl just to try it I hope my boyfriend don't mind it It felt so wrong, it felt so right Don't mean I'm in love tonight I kissed a girl and I liked it I liked it

You lean in and press your lips to hers delicately just in case you got this whole thing wrong. However, she doesn’t pull away from you. She deepens the kiss when she tilts her head to the right, and she swipes her tongue over your lower lip. The second your tongue touches her, it’s like a spark goes off.

The spark you’re missing with Theodore. Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s because he’s a him and not a her. Fuck Theodore. You’re giving this night to yourself. Falling in love isn’t on the cards for tonight, but you’re going to go home later and know what it’s like to kiss a woman, this woman.

Natasha pulls away from you and whispers something in your ear, but you’re too drunk to understand what she’s saying. You watch her walk toward the bathroom, and you grin at the taste of her cherry chapstick.

Fuck, you kind of liked it.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[maligatorthealligator]

I haven't seen (or just don't remember) any post like what you're describing. Every single post I recall that's talking about this type of problem is referencing people consuming art and then not saying anything to the creator. Not because they have nothing to say, but because they're saying it in private away from the person who created that art as a bid for community.

If someone wants to post their art in private that's cool. I just can't recall having seen anyone have a problem with that and am curious if this is 1) one of those things where you're seeing a like radical corner of Tumblr that I don't come into contact with (if so I'm glad cause that's insane lol) or 2) if one of the posts about how ignoring people trying to build fandom communities and partnerships to talk in private to just a couple people and then decrying the destruction of fandom communities is directly contributing the the deterioration of those communities and is bad for the continuation of fandom at large, was unintentionally taken out of context or misinterpreted?

Cause what you're talking about in your post is literally crazy if someone has a problem with it. They'd have to be massively entitled. People should post or not post art as they're comfortable and sharing with a small audience who is almost certainly going to receive it well is often a confidence boost that someone needs to GET comfortable sharing with a large audience. Wild that someone would have a problem with that. That creator still might never be comfort sharing more broadly tho and that's okay too! Art is personal! It's a gift! That's so very different than going to someone's performance (viewing/liking their art (since on Tumblr a "like" is functionally just a hits counter)) and choosing to not clap at the end (no comments or tags or reblogs) then joining some friends at a coffee shop (private discord server) across the street and gushing about how amazing it was.

i needed to put my two cents in because i've seen a post going around with 90k notes that made me somewhat frustrated. it was saying that " private discord servers" are ruining tumblr's fandom community and that you're going to be lonely and alone when the servers die and that you should be posting to fandom community tags to keep it alive.

and first off, no, you're not a bad person for having private discord servers. that's ridiculous. yes servers die over time. that's just how it is. it doesn't mean it was pointless to enjoy a small group of friends even if you drift apart. and it definitely doesn't mean it was pointless to share your content with them.

my main point, no, private discord servers are not "killing tumblr's fandom community"

the real reason fandom communities are dying is just that we're all growing older, and fandom communities on tumblr are hostile towards creators that don't fit a certain niche.

i don't blame anyone for making private servers for friends for their specific creations. safety and peace comes first with creation. as someone who is traumatized from certain fandom communities not accepting darker content or personal takes on characters, i 100% understand why anyone, mostly neurodivergent creators, would want to not post their art publicly in those tags. hostile environments birth isolation.

also consider art theft, and the ai boom, and the lack of ability to post mature art or content in tags for adult creators trying to share their works.

so no, you're not bad for having a discord server of private friends to share your work with. no you're not killing tumblr. no you're not going to end up alone and sad because you chose to protect your peace.

and just because someone posts their art in a place you weren't invited to doesn't mean someone's hiding it from you. you are not entitled to someone's content just because "it could have been posted on tumblr"

this also applies to people who prefer private communities on this site.

enjoy your day and rest easy.

[mang0d0ll]

Bob's Lonely Hearts Club

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: bob's all alone on valentines day. but not for much longer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ includes: fluff, fem main character, negative self-talk, morale boosting, fem mc becomes bobs hype man, implied sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, bob gets kinda tipsy, hangman is kind of a douchebag but whats new

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: this is my first full fic on tumblr!! YYYAAAAAYYYY im so excited that its here! this idea has been collecting dust in my brain and my notes app literally since tgm came out in 2022, but im just so proud of myself for actually writing this and putting it out in the world. enjoy <333333

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR FED INTO AI

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as a loner.

Sure he was quiet, preferring to take a back seat to the rambunctious chatter and lighthearted bickering the rest of his teammates were always up to, but they always included him in the conversation. Hangman particularly enjoyed ribbing him with jokes about his mouse-like demeanour, until Bob would throw some smack talk of his own, making the group erupt with laughter.

But tonight was different. It was Valentine's, and Bob was - by all accounts - a loner.

There were other patrons scattered across the Hard Deck, but nowhere near the regular amount on a typical Friday night.

He hadn't even realised the romantic holiday was coming up. It wasn't until a week prior when Fanboy hollered that he'd scored a date with someone he'd been chatting up on Bumble; his booming voice causing Bob’s pool cue to completely miss the ball.

From then on, it was all he heard from the Daggers. Payback had a dinner planned with his long-term partner, Rooster was going out with a woman he'd been casually seeing, and Coyote nonchalantly declared that he'd have no problem heading into town and picking up a cute chick on the day itself.

Hangman had let it slip that he and Phoenix were going to a drive-in cinema together, but any cheeky remarks from the rest of the team were left unsaid at the heat of Phoenix’s glare.

So there Bob was, sitting at the bar on Valentine's, nursing a drink and musing over everything he could've been doing instead. With the complexities and demands of his job, he'd rarely given much thought to his romantic life. Boy, was he regretting it.

His eyes bore into the random sports match playing on the bar’s TV, his brain only registering the vibrant colours and fast-paced movements.

"Hey, Bob."

A melodious voice broke him out of his daze. Behind the counter stood everyone's favourite, sweet-as-sugar Hard Deck employee. She gave him a small smile as she wiped down glasses and put them aside.

"Fancy seeing you here tonight. Thought you'd have somewhere more important to be."

His head tilted, like a curious puppy, making her giggle.

"Y'know, cause it's Valentine's?"

"Right!" Bob exclaimed. "Yeah, no, no plans. I don't have anywhere else to be, so..." His voice trailed off as her warm smile struck his soul. With sweaty palms, he raised his glass and took a swig of his drink.

"That's a surprise," she said.

"It is?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I thought you'd have a cute date or something."

Bob's eyes widened and he quickly choked out a laugh, "Me? Oh, no, no I'm flattered but I'm not..." A wave of nausea rushed through his body - the words sticking to his throat. "I'm not really the ask-out-women type," he said as he stared into his glass. "Never been good at it."

And maybe it was the alcohol making him feel all fuzzy. Maybe it was the bar's dim lighting setting the mood. Or maybe it was the feeling of being almost alone with the attention of the stunning bartender-slash-waitress he maybe, sort of, definitely, had a crush on.

Something in the situation just made him feel... different. Trusting. Honest.

"I'm not confident like the rest of them," he confessed. "Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, they see someone they like and have no problem approaching them. Even if they didn't, there are plenty of people who come up and offer their numbers all the time. But I can't do that. Can't bring myself to talk to anybody like that. I'm not suave or charming like they are. Not cool or confident. I don't stand out in a crowd or attract any eyes from across the room. I'm just the guy in the background no one gives two cents about. Boring ol' Bob."

A silence hung between them, the static sports commentator voice floating through the air.

A tsunami of emotions whirled through him. On one hand, a weight had been lifted off him- a cathartic thrum in his chest at finally voicing the thoughts that'd tormented him for years. On the other hand, the admission of his feelings only made them more real and ever apparent to him. A dark cloud over his head, doomed to follow him.

"Excuse me?" she spat.

His head snapped up to find her eyes ablaze.

"Do you really think that?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no words came out. Thankfully for him, she didn't give him time to reply.

"Bob, you’re an amazing person. You're kind, and sweet, and thoughtful. You're always there for others, helping them even when they don’t ask for it. You carry your friends out when they're too drunk to walk. You listen to them rant about their work and lives. And when you're here during closing you insist on helping us clean up; stacking the chairs and storing crates in the back. You’re this guardian angel looking out for everyone around you.

So what if you're not like Rooster or Hangman? Why would you wanna be anyone else anyways? You're an amazing person all on your own and you show it everyday."

Bob felt an overwhelming heat engulf his body. It was as though he'd stood at the entrance of an active volcano for a decade.

“You really think that?” he squeaked out.

“Yes! And if girls don't see that then screw them. Anyone with a functioning brain cell would be lucky to go out with you.”

Bob smiled shyly, "Well, I'm flattered-"

"I mean, you're literally a dream!" She continued, hands frantically wiping glasses and setting them down with a low thud. "Not only are you kindhearted but you're a dream to look at. It's honestly criminal how fit you are with your glasses making you look so cute, and kissable, and..."

Her voice trailed off as their eyes locked and she registered Bob's tomato-red face. Bob's heart pounded in his ears.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as brave.

Sure he'd had a rare, unexpected surge of bravery when he joined the military - shocking everyone that knew him - but everything that came after was simply part of the job. Each day of suffering through grueling training to become a WSO had nothing to do with his bravery, but rather his tenacity and determination to show everyone what he could accomplish. What he was made of.

Buf in this moment, a rare moment in his life, Bob chose to be brave.

"What time do you get off from work?" he asked.

"Soon. In about an hour."

"And... do you have any plans after?"

"I was just gonna go home," she blushed, a smile painting across her face. "But you're most welcome to come with me."

"So Bob, how was your Valentine's?"

The Dagger Squad's chatter quieted down at Hangman's sudden question. The sounds of the Hard Deck filling the silence between them.

"It was good," Bob replied, leaning against a pillar and doing his best to act casual.

"Really? Get up to anything fun?"

"Stop it," Phoenix chided.

"What? I'm just asking," Hangman laughed, gliding about the pool table and lining up his shot as if he wasn't interrogating his teammate. "Wanna know if Baby-on-Board spent the night alone like I said he would."

The crack of his cue against the ball came as a comical sound effect to the shock everyone was smacked in the face with. Phoenix shook her head in disbelief and mouthed a 'sorry' to her WSO, which he waved off with an understanding smile.

"Well Hangman, since you're so desperate to know, I came here on Valentine's. And while I did start out alone, I ended up going home with someone."

Everyone's heads whipped towards him.

"No shit. Seriously?" Hangman chuckled. "Who is she? Who had the honour of being our Bobby's companion. Is she even real?"

It was at this time that she walked over to them, empty tray in hand. The woman who'd occupied Bob's head 24/7 ever since the night they shared together a week prior. The woman he'd confided in and poured his heart out to. The woman who held him and kissed his doubts away all night long. Her lips soft against his smooth skin, the heat of her body melded against his.

She moved with grace as she motioned for the team's empty glasses and bottles, everyone giving her polite smiles as she passed. Bob allowed his eyes to trail after her before turning his attention back to Hangman.

"I can assure you she is very real. She's an amazing woman, full of kindness and love. Adorable to boot. Honestly, I'm over the freaking moon that she even wants my company."

Their eyes met as she got closer to Bob, still pretending to be completely unaffected by the conversation at hand. Picking up the last empty bottle, she began to walk pass Bob to get back to the kitchen.

"And I'm most definitely taking her home with me tonight," Bob declared. Just as she passed, Bob raised his hand and let it fall with a swift smack! to her behind.

Jumping back in shock with a loud yelp, she turned to Bob, ready to tell him off, only to be met with his cheeky smirk and smitten eyes.

She huffed and glared at him, though there was no real heat behind her eyes. "We're leaving as soon as my shift is over."

"Yes ma'am," Bob smiled.

She scurried away as she failed to suppress the smile growing on her face.

He stared at her retreating figure unashamedly as the rest of the Daggers began whooping and hollering.

"Dude! No way!"

"How'd you pull her? What did you say?"

"My man! Knew you had that dog in ya!"

Their words fell on Bob's deaf ears, his head preoccupied with counting down to when he could finally leave with the woman of his dreams.

[brittle-doughie]

Okay, this is probably going to be over detailed or something but bare with me.

(Also, sorry if this feels very early. I just saw birthday talk in your posts and got inspired.)

Basically, Y/n has refused to tell any cookie when their birthday is. No one knows and no one is able to read Y/n's mind deep enough to get the correct date.

Reason why Y/n doesn't tell when their own birthday is? It's because their birthday is literally the day right before new years eve and they do not want to bother everyone who's probably already busy planning a huge party for new years eve yet also still recovering from Christmas.

And yet, there's a small tradition that Y/n does every year on their birthday without fail. They go out to a restaurant and get dinner for themselves.

How would the Legendary Cookies, First Cookies, Beast Cookies, and Ancient Cookies react to figuring out when Y/n's birthday is?

(Reduce the amount of cookies if you want to. I'm mostly curious about the cookies who would basically be planning Y/n's birthday. Like Wedding Cake Cookie, First Sprinkle Cookie, and any other cookies that could be associated with parties or celebrations.)

Hope you have a nice day/night!

-❄💗🖋

First of all, you can’t have anything birthday related without turning to the Cookie that’s an expert on them, Birthday Cake Cookie! Once she found out, she’s already planning ideas on how the birthday can go!

Wedding Cake Cookie, while not as much of an expert as Birthday Cake, can try her best with her intuition of what a Cookie might want their gathering place to look like. She might butt heads against Birthday Cake for what you could possibly like. She shouldn’t keep you waiting for long!

The special entertainment can fall on First Sprinkle Cookie when she finds out, she’ll make sure your gathering is full of laughs and smiles with her many tricks under her sleeve!

[temis-de-leon]

Can I trust you?

Characters: Lucifer x fem!MC

Main Masterlist

Summary: after crushing on each other for way too long, MC finds herself losing her patience and showing at his doorstep in the middle of the night.

C/W: very confident MC, since she's almost naked in this. Suggestive, and I say the word nipple once, but I left it at there because I'm not comfortable with smut.

This was going to be HCs with all the brothers, but if this alone is 776 words, then I don't want to imagine what it would be with another six people. Sorry

.

MC has been flirting with him for the last few months, but she isn’t able to make him break and pursue her. They’re good friends, but she knows damn well that the possibility of tarnishing their relationship isn’t his reason for not acting up.

He knows she loves him, just as much as she knows he loves her in return, but would he ever be the first to confess?

Not in a million years.

Lucifer wants her to break, to get so desperate that there is no other choice left but to forget her pride and fall before him.

However, one of those days where frustration hits the hardest, MC feels like she can’t deal with the situation anymore and crosses the line.

Mind you, naked.

Or half-naked.

But she hopes she gets him to understand the point nonetheless.

.

.

He’s alone, playing chess against himself next to the fireplace while one of his favourite vinyl plays the night away. It’s not cursed, for a change, and he’d invited you in hopes of sharing the piece and spending some time together, but you are too occupied reorganizing your closet after a shopping spree with Asmo.

He’s not hurt about it, so don’t bother asking; it would be childish to feel offended over something so trivial.

And it would be unfair to do so, anyway.

He had, after all, denied your hangout attempts multiple times in favour of his work, so he had to comply the very few times you put him in second place.

And the only time he thought you’d put him in second place.

It’s late enough for everyone else in the house to be already fast asleep when he starts hearing steps. They’re light, muffled over the carpets and quiet over the naked hardwood floor, so whoever is coming to visit him in the middle of the night isn’t wearing any footwear.

If only he could know which one of the morons living in the House of Lamentation is stupid enough to walk with no protection in the coldest temperature the Devildom can offer.

“Come in” he says at the knocking with a suspiciously mellow tone, curious about his visitor.

Your face is an unexpected, but welcomed sight.

The rest of your body, though, throws him out the loop.

You are quick to enter and close the door, but it’s enough time for him to morph his shocked expression into the seductive smirk you’re more familiar with. Sadly, he can’t do nothing about the blush over his cheeks, and knowing you, there is no way you are going to ignore it.

But what else can he do??

There you are, quietly standing in the middle of his room, showing yourself in almost all your glory. You are wearing matching underwear, black and red (his colours), and he can see your hardened nipples through your bra.

He’s half tempted to offer the second chair next to the fireplace, but he wants to keep looking at your figure a little longer. At least until you tell him your reasons for… this little stunt.

“Do you like it?” you ask, slowly giving a little twirl to let him see the back. Lucifer can feel his heart in his throat, and he gives himself permission to glance down before going back to your head. Your smile is devilish.  

“You look delectable, MC” he answers, his voice low and gruff.

He’s fully clothed, minus his coat, and you’re standing right in front of him with little to nothing covering your body. His hands itch to take a hold on the plumpest parts of your curves and he licks his teeth, whishing it was your skin under them, but he stays where he is, looking down at you with starving flesh-eating butterflies roaming in his tummy.

“But I fail to see why my opinion on the matter would be so important for you to show up at the darkest hour of the night in my room” he mutters, taking a single step forward. Despite the cold in the furthest corners of his room, your body radiates warmth like a furnace.

He’s starting to sweat a little bit too.

“You’ve always been so respectful to me…” you say with an innocent voice that he immediately doesn’t trust, walking towards his bed before sitting down on its edge. He follows like a moth to the flame. “You know, respecting my boundaries, never grabbing too hard when you hold my waist and not even peeping when I bend down. I thought I could trust you to tell me if I look good. So…can I trust you? Do I look good, Luci?”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

[mordredpendragon]

SIR MORDRED, The Traitor: A Masterpost

“Know that he will be born the first day of May in the kingdom of Logres.” ⸺ Post Vulgate

In celebration of Mordred's birthday, here's a compilation of all things Mordred!

Majority of these links are supplied by the Arthurian Preservation Project! 💕 Would just like to shoutout @queer-ragnelle and @tboymordred for the help in making this! As well as many of my beloved friends and mutuals for their extended support. I put a whole lot of time and effort into this post, so to anyone reading this, I hope it will be of use to you in some way.

I would just like to preface that while I do try to be as thorough as possible, this is by no means an exhaustive list of every single Mordred appearance that exists. That would be impossible. Consider this moreso a curated list of based on what I have seen and what has been available to me thus far, so this will be updated as I go along.

There's a myriad of things I elected not to include for numerous reasons, so the media and literature I have chosen are ones that I think would be of interest for someone seeking out Mordred content specifically.

Last updated: 1/5/2025

Medieval Texts

Exhibit A

British History and The Welsh Annals by Nennius (Latin)

⭐The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth (Latin)

⭐The History of Scotland by Hector Boece (Latin)

⭐Chronica Gentis Scotorum by John of Fordun (Latin)

The Dream of Rhonabwy (Welsh)

The Welsh Triads (Welsh)

⭐Lancelot-Grail Vulgate Cycle (French)

Post-Vulgate (French)

Merlin and the Grail by Robert de Boron (French)

⭐Roman de Brut by Wace (French)

⭐Layamon's Brut (Middle English)

Stanzaic Morte Arthure (Middle English)

⭐Alliterative Morte Arthure (Middle English)

Le Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory (Middle English)

Mort Artu (Middle English)

La Tavola Ritonda (Italian)

These are the texts translated into English that I'm aware of where Mordred is a central character or plays a significant role. Out of all of these, I personally recommend Alliterative Morte Arthure, Layamon's Brut, and Vulgate the most. In these texts Mordred is given a surprising amount of complexity and nuance, especially in Alliterative Morte Arthure. He even gets a sick title, Mordred the Malebranche/Evil-Arm. Below in the essays section there's plenty of literature analyzing and discussing it, which I suggest you go take a read if you're curious. His characterization in Vulgate is also one of my top favorites and is also incredibly in-depth, especially prior to his rebellion. He was described as having been "kind and compassionate" at the start of his career as a knight, only for him to spiral after finding out his true heritage.

The Scottish Chronicles (such as the accounts written by John of Fodrun and Hector Boece, although there are more of them not listed.) are also fascinating since they talks about how Arthur is actually illegitmate and Mordred is the rightful ruler all along. While Fodrun speaks well of Arthur as an admirable king, Boece is biased against him in favor of Mordred/Modredus.

Exhibit B

⭐Perceval + Continuations (French)

I put this text in an entirely separate section purely because Mordred is just a side character here, but I think it's worth looking into if you like Mordred. In the Perceval Continuations, particularly the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Continuations, he is primarily shown as an antagonist for Percival. They have an intense duel where Mordred loses and begs Percival for mercy, to which he then sends him off to Arthur's court as his prisoner. Admittedly, I am biased 🌈 but Mordred shows up more often than you'd expect. The tone is moreso lighthearted and humorous with his rebellion against Arthur seemingly absent in it.

Retellings

I'm working on this in a time crunch so not everything has commentary (might update it when I feel like it lol) All my favorites and ones I consider must-reads/watches are listed with a star⭐ That being said, enjoy!

Novels

part I (Main Character)

⭐The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart

⭐A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

⭐Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Queen's Knight by Marvin Barowsky (cw: pedarasty)

The Book of Mordred + The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty

part II (Secondary Character)

Arthur The Bear of Britain by Edward Frankland

The Eagles Have Flown by Henry Treece

The Great Captains by Henry Treece

The Green Man by Henry Treece

Poetry

The Song of the Four Knights by Ernest Rhys

The Fight at Camlann by John Masefield

⭐Modred: A Fragment by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The Death of King Arthur by Your Loving Granny

King Arthur's Death by M.G Lewis

Plays

⭐Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

King Arthur by J. Comyns Carr

The Misfortunes of Arthur by Thomas Hughes

Guenevere: A Play in Five Acts by Stark Young

Short Stories

⭐Mordred and the Green Knight by Phyllis Ann Karr

Night Mare by Chelsea Quinn Yaribo

Told by the Moonlight by Darrel Schweitzer

Films and TV

Films

⭐Knights of the Round Table (1953) dir. by Richard Thorpe, played by Stanley Baker

Sword of Lancelot (1963) dir. by Cornel Wilde, played by Michael Meacham

Camelot (1967) dir. by Joshua Logan, played by David Hemmings

Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) dir. by Russ Mayberry, played by Jim Dale

⭐Excalibur (1981) dir. by John Boorman, played by Robert Addie (adult) and Charley Boorman (child)

⭐Morte d'Arthur (1984) dir. by Gillian Lynne, played by Nickolas Grace

⭐Knightriders (1981) dir. by George A. Romero, played by Tom Savini (technically his name is Morgan here but he's basically just Mordred.)

⭐New Adventures of a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1988) dir. by Viktor Gres, played by Mark Gres

Camelot (1998)

King Arthur Excalibur Rising (2017) dir. Antony Smith, played by Gavin Swift

Arthur & Merlin Knights of Camelot (2020) dir. Giles Alderson, played by Joel Phillimore

Everything listed with a ⭐ are genuinely some of my top ever favorite portrayals of Mordred. Absolute must-watch. 80's Arthuriana is life changing.

TV

Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949) uncredited for whatever reason :/ if anyone knows who his actor is please let me know!

⭐BBC Legend of King Arthur (1979) played by Steve Hodson

⭐Merlin (1998) played by Jason Done

BBC Merlin (2008-2012) played by Alexander Vlahos (adult), Asa Butterfield (child)

Other

Music

⭐Mordred's Song by Blind Guardian

Mordred's Song by Grave Digger

Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale

Crashing Down by Heather Dale

War Between Brothers by Heather Dale

⭐Seven Deadly Virtues from Camelot (Musical)

Demon Down by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

The Hard Way by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

Peacemaker by The Mechanisms

Skin and Bone by The Mechanisms

TTRPG's

I, Mordred: The Fall & Rise of Camelot

Fair warning that I reccomend this with HUGE caveats as this contains violent misogyny, racism, and homophobia. If you like Gareth please look away because he sucks in this. That being said, Mordred is very much intended to be the hero you root for and he's so dreamy. He's described as pure of heart. He seems cold, but is warm to those he's close to. He has war dogs and they're all named after the 7 virtues. In a dark, bleak and gritty fantasy setting, Mordred is a shining beacon. It's adorable. I haven't played this myself, only read through the entire booklet but there's a lot of cool concepts and story beats that you can definitely expound upon yourself. Even the less savory elements, especially the misogyny and racism, can honestly just be ignored by the GM.

Video Games

King Arthur: Knight's Tale

I haven't played this so I can't tell you much about it, but it's a turn-based strategy game where Mordred is the main playable character and it's set in Post-Camlann.

Resources and Essays

Books

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles Especially Those of Great Britain and France by Robert Huntington Fletcher

The Arthurian Way of Death: The English Tradition edited by Karen Cherewatuk & K.S Whetter

Essays

⭐Mordred: Heroes and Anti-Heroes in Medieval Romance by Judith Weiss

⭐Arthur, Mordred, and Tragedy in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Gillian Adler

Friendly Fire: The Disastrous Politics of Friendship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Christine Chism

Re-presenting Mordred: Three Plays of 1895 by Pamela Yee

⭐Mordred's Lost Childhood by Elizabeth Archibald

The Sword and the Scepter: Mordred, Arthur, and the Dual Roles of Kingship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Steven P.W Bruso

⭐Who Was King Arthur’s Sir Modred? by Andrew Breeze

[masoncantthinkofaname]

hiii

I'm curious about how you shifted without (really) scripting... Like how does it work, do you just go into the waiting room,throw the dice and boom a random reality pops up then you read some information about it or do you have a prior idea about the reality beforehand? Does the reality just pops out of thin air without you knowing anything about it?

🤯🤯🤯

You really can do it however! Technically speaking, you could intend to shift, without having any plans of where to go, and you'll subconscious will fill in all the blanks.

When Daeron and I made our plans to 'respawn,' we shifted to a waiting room first, that gave us insight on what our life in this potential place would be like.

We intended that, the life we'd get to see, would fit our 'true selves' the most. And would really suit our personalities and likings.

It was almost like being in a vision. We saw parts of our cultures, our names, where we live, the world, etc. And decided it did, in fact, really speak to us. So then we actually shifted there!

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position Teaser

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Happy Tuesday my lovelies,

I come to you today with a Closed Position update and teaser. The good news is, the Week 9 chapter is almost complete. I have finally been bit by the Dieter writing bug, so I busted this out over the last 3 days. I'm thinking it will be around 11K words. It could be more or less. I still have one lengthy scene to write.

I'm really excited for this chapter. We will get both Dieter and Kat's POV as well as another surprise POV to reveal some things going on behind the scenes. We also get to hear from someone that we haven't really heard much from yet and we get the infamous redemption arc I mentioned previously for someone we love to hate.

Given that, as a teaser I have included two things. The first is an album from Dieter's camera roll. It is mentioned in the chapter and there is some hidden meaning behind all this....aside from the picture of Kat's ass. He just likes to look at it, okay?

The second is a snippet from this chapter. It doesn't give much away, but it does get those feels going. 🥺

📷 Dieter’s Camera Roll

🖊️Chapter Snippet

I made my way toward the dance studio for rehearsal. I immediately noticed that Dieter wasn’t there yet. I tried to ignore that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me he wasn’t coming, but it was hard. That feeling intensified with each passing minute. After twenty minutes, I decided to pull up our song to keep myself occupied. I lay on the floor with my eyes closed as I thought through possible choreography for the week. Thirty more minutes passed and he was still a no show. I grabbed my phone to check if I had any messages. Nothing. He was almost an hour late. He wasn’t coming. I fought back tears at the realization. I don’t really know what I expected. I probably would have done the same thing if I were him, but I at least would have told him I wasn’t coming. I opened my messenger app and found his name. Me: Are you coming to rehearsal? I watched as the indicator changed to “Read” almost instantly. The three bubbles began bouncing indicating he was typing, but then stopped. This happened several more times before his reply finally came through. Dieter: I can’t do it today. I’m sorry. I tried, but I can’t. The tears that I had been holding in, finally fell. He didn’t have to say it. I could read between the lines. He was hurting. Because of me. I sat staring at the wall for a beat, forcing myself to feel the self inflicted pain that I deserved. I wiped the tears away, then glanced back down at my phone. Hopeful as I typed out a reply. Me: It’s ok. We can pick it up tomorrow. I waited, watching the bubbles bounce, pause, then start again. Dieter: Yeah, maybe.

I don't have an ETA for when this chapter is dropping, but I can say it will be soon. Hopefully sometime this week.

Please do sound off about your camera roll theories. I'm curious to hear what you're thinking on that. 😏

Until next time, 💜Mysty

P.S. In case you missed it...new fic in the works.

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[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

NOW IM CURIOUS do you have a theory as to what happened to suo’s eye?? i’ve seen a few suggesting he’s a victim of human trafficking, was sold into slavery by his abusing/powerful parents, etc. i’m still not sure what i think happened 🥲

hmmmmmmmm ok so lemme be so frank here im still rlly new to the wbk fandom so im still no so familiar with the theories and inside jokes n allat so bear with me here ok

the human trafficking and slavery thing is actually really interesting because there are a lot of things about suo that stood out like a burning red flag to me while i was reading the manga. if you didn't know this, i'm chinese and i know a lot about chinese culture and i speak mandarin fluently. in chinese, suo can be written as 锁, which means lock. wbk has a lot of characters whose names represent them (ie; sakura - cherry blossoms are often representative of sakura in manga panels, endo - it can mean fire and it describes how he talks about takiishi like a "burning inferno"), and suo's meaning lock in chinese and him being fond of chinese culture and items is really interesting, because a lock holds something down or keeps it away.

and i know that there is a kanji (japanese writing) for his name, but this is interesting as well. the 2 kanji that make up "suo" mean "revive, resurrection" and "raft, wood". revive or resurrection almost means to be reborn in a way, or to live a whole new life or to come back from the dead, perhaps hinting that suo has revived from a near death experience or the lowest point of his life. the raft and wood part could imply that he escaped whatever he was locked to (likely trafficking) using some sort of raft. i also know that the letters combined means "sappan wood", which i just think is a reference to his character color because this is literally the color of sappan wood dye:

now let's get into the main part of this theory. we have heard time and time again that suo is fond of chinese items. his last name can be translated into "lock" in chinese. i've mentioned that he might've escaped from whatever he was locked to by some sort of raft. i'm going to talk about some heavy topics, so bear with me here. i believe that suo might have been born in china, got trafficked, then escaped to japan overseas using a raft with help, then changed the lettering of his last name. outlandish, i know. but i have evidence.

we know that suo doesn't move in his sleep from an official art by nii satoru. weird timing here, but in history, when african americans were on ships to be sold off to slavery, they were shackled to tight and compact spaces to sleep and eat. i'm so sorry if anyone is sensitive to these topics or thinks that talking about this stuff because of a manga is ridiculous, but since this is a theory, i had to bring it up. i'm sorry. but the slaves weren't allowed to move because there were so many people, and it would be too hot and too crowded if they moved around. plus, the shackles restrained most of their movement anyways. i suspect that suo might've been in a similar situation and just developed a habit of not moving around in his sleep.

i'd also like to mention that human trafficking is, unfortunately, still a heavy problem in china. north korean escapees--especially women--will nearly always require the help of a smuggler, who is a man (who, in this specific scenario, is chinese) who will smuggle them into china but sell them to human traffickers. i doubt that this is the case with suo, but i think it's still an important topic to bring up when we're making a theory about a character who could potentially have been trafficked.

now here's some more. here is a map of east asia.

as you can see, there are definitely ways to get to china to japan by boat. i don't think suo could have ever rafted here alone; i don't think some random kid would have been able to register himself an id or anything either. suo is 15 currently in the story, and we know that he's been in japan long enough to make a name for himself. and in case you're pointing out "but his first name is japanese!", people can legally change their first names.

the reason why no one knows who he actually defeated in middle school, if this theory is true (which is highly unlikely), is because he was middle school age, but not actually in middle school when he defeated them. maybe he was still in china at the time. idk.

so short answer: yes, he was human trafficked, and there was some sort of scar left behind. sorry i had a whole yap session, i kind of looked into the og mentioned theory because i'd never heard this theory before, but i ended up getting invested and made my own😭