#my drabbles

[sunflowersunite]

What if

Armin visits Levi post war, smiling and warm. Seeing him feels good, they hadn't realised how much they one another. It's good to know he's alive.

Annie stands a little farther, a child tugs at her skirts, squirmish and round-faced and short-legged. Levi squints to take a better look at him but he's too far away.

Another is perched in her father's arms, a hand in her mouth in all seriousness. Armin's curious sparkle shines in her eyes, behind a curved nose.

Levi's heart clenches in a cruel second-long recognition, a mere shade running across his eyes that dissolves in seconds. The odd familiarity of her caught him off guard.

It's enough for Armin's sharp eye to notice.

"That's Zoë," he says with a smile and lowers her to the ground.

Levi's throat clogs. Zoë.

She looks so much like Hange.

So her name won't be remembered as just ink on paper, a soulless list of her accomplishments as Commander. She'll be remembered for her bright eyes and grabby hands, her laughter and the lightness of her step. Even if only by a handful of people.

The wind rustles the laurels strewn around his garden. That must mean she's smiling, wherever she is.

"Hello, Zoë," Levi greets in earnest, and the girl grins.

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Convict!Ghost and innocent!reader who signs up for a program to visit and write letters to convicts without friends or families on the outside. You believe in the program, believe you're acting as a way to anchor a man, who would otherwise be lost, to society.

Ghost pretends you're getting through to him, nods and smiles when you tell him you know he can do better, be better. Meanwhile, he's thinking of all the filthy, depraved things he wants to do to you when he's released, thinking of his friend Soap in the laundry whose specialty is smuggling contraband in and wondering if he can convince you to slip him a nice lil picture of yourself or maybe even a pair of your panties. Soap probably wouldn't even want his usual cut, so long as he can get a look too.

[agentlizardofowca]

"Bubbles"

May I get a drabble about Perry having to kiss Heinz to either protect his identity or just keep Heinz quiet?

Thanks for reading! Feel free to delete for whatever reason ♡

Hiiiii, Thanks for the nice asks and thank you for your patience. That time Perry and Doofenshmirtz bumped into Major Monogram and Carl in the supermarket was bad enough. Now, imagine Perry’s frustration when Heinz dragged him along to the supermarket again, this time to buy nougat and toothpaste. He was just minding his own business, trying to convince Heinz to buy a nicer shampoo than the cheapest one, and reading the ingredients on a bottle when a very familiar voice rang out behind him.

“Perry?” 

It was Linda.

Perry turned, lightning-quick, and came face to face with Linda and Candace, who were looking at him in surprise. 

“Hi.” She continued, eyeing him up and down in his work outfit. “My, don’t you look professional today.” 

He barely had enough time to do a nervous little wave before Heinz caught on to the conversation behind him, and he turned.

“Perry? Do you know these people?” Heinz asked, and Perry turned to him vaguely aware that he was PANICKING. NOT GOOD. HEINZ AND FAMILY. BAD. VERY BAD.

“Hello?” Linda said politely. “Do you know Perry?” 

Candace hadn’t seemed interested in the situation initially, but her uncle didn’t seem to know anybody. Him being in the supermarket with a stranger was perhaps the most exciting thing Perry had ever done in his miserable and boring life.

“Do I know Perry?” Heinz repeated thoughtfully, unaware that his nemesis had stopped breathing. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Oh, well. Nice to meet you,” Linda said, extending one hand for Heinz to shake. “Although.” She looked at Heinz curiously. “Have we met before?”

Heinz accepted the gesture and shook Linda’s hand. “I have to be super honest with you. I am horrible with faces.” He explained. “I even forget Perry’s face sometimes. Only very rarely! But it has happened once or twice.

Despite his shock, Perry couldn’t help but crack a little smile. One of twice, his secretive ass.

“And how do you know Perry?” Linda asked conversationally, but she and her daughter both had matching curious expressions.

“Oh, you know,” Heinz explained happily, not aware that was was about to ruin Perry’s life forever. “Perry the Platypus is my secret-” Agent. The next word was going to be agent, Perry realized. He had to do something and he had to do something NOW! There was no time for a plan, he had to act. So, Perry prepared himself and followed his instincts.

Perry jolted as he suddenly sprang to action as if he had been shocked by a bolt of lightning. With both hands, he grabbed Heinz’s face, pulled him down to his level and firmly and confidently smushed their mouths together right there in the middle of the super food stuff mart.

In a sudden wave of clarity, Perry remembered that sometimes INSTINCT. BAD. Like right now. There he was, mouth to mouth with his nemesis with no further plan. He could release Heinz, but then there would be many, many questions from Candace, Linda AND HEINZ.

So, since his instinct got him into this mess, his instinct could get him out.

Still kissing, Perry dragged Heinz around the corner to the next aisle, leaving Candace and Linda right there. 

Stupified, they watched him go.

Over in the deodorant aisle, Perry released Heinz’s lips with a smack and placed him upright as Heinz stammered and stumbled, too confused by everything to speak coherently.

“I- eeh? Oh? Uh! aa.” He exclaimed.

Perry took Heinz by his slanted shoulders and shook him lightly.

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve had since that time I dreamt a tiny alien force-fed me watermelons. No. Wait. This is still stranger. Perry the platypus what was that about?!”

At least Heinz seemed to be coming back to his senses. Perry, unsure of how to explain, dug through his pockets and pulled out a pamphlet with the title “So you’ve found out your uncle is a secret agent. What now?” and pushed it into Heinz’s hand. 「Read that.」And off he went, back to the toothpaste aisle.

Linda and Candace were exactly where he had left them. Their mouths were still vaguely open in shock.

Perry smiled as innocently as he could as he jogged up to them. 「Whoopie」 He gestured at them.

Linda stared at his hands and blinked. “Whoopsie?” she repeated.

“What did you just do?!” Candace shouted. “And with him!” she gestured at the end of the aisle, where he had dragged Doof off to.

「Couldn’t help myself.」 Perry replied hysterically. 「What a stud, right?」

“... Right,” Linda replied, confused but supportive.

“NO!” Candace replied, because she was 15, always honest, and convinced something was wrong with Perry.

「Got to go!」Before he left, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste, and then he ran. Luckily for him, they didn’t even try to follow him.

Heinz was still busy reading the pamphlet when Perry returned and snatched it back. He presented him with the toothpaste, forced him into the next aisle, and refused to explain anything.

By the time he returned home to the Flynn-Fletcher residency, Perry was exhausted. But when he stepped into the kitchen he came face to face with Lawrence and Linda, who seemed to have been waiting for him.

“Oh, there you are Perry,” Linda said, and she turned to him. “Me and Lawrence are a bit worried about you.”

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

I can stay silent no longer. Viktor and big tits. Guys.

Viktor can't stop looking at your tits, and he’s trying oh so very hard to not be obvious about it, because of how embarrassing it is. He's doing his best to stay respectful, but his eyes constantly drift downwards whenever you move and your bust shifts or bounces. He can't even focus on his notes when you're standing nearby, the calculations in his mind gone in a puff of smoke every time you pass by him.

More often than not, he finds himself staring at the way you rest your chest on your desk to help with your back pain; whenever you look up and catch him in the act, his cheeks get so red he has to hide them underneath his hands. He pretends he's deeply focused on reading the book of ancient runes in front of him, but in reality, he's been stuck on the same sentence for the last half an hour.

An insubordinate, nasty little voice in the back of his head whispers that he could help you: he knows a lot about back pain after all, doesn't he? He could be so good for you, if you only let him touch you…

The worst is when you come to ask him questions, just slightly pushing your tits against his back to lean over his shoulder; he can't count the number of times it's almost made him fall over in panic (excluding the times it has actually landed him right down on his ass). It’s gotten to the point where he has to excuse himself to the restroom for a few minutes at a time, just to remind himself how to breathe and to make sure the tent forming in his pants is fully dead and gone.

If his pride doesn't kill him first, with how flustered and unnerved you manage to get him by simply existing in the lab, then the constant, awkward falling at your feet like an enamoured fool surely will.

For your birthday, he ultimately decides to get you a nice, fancy jacket to put on top of your blouse while you work. Lab assistants aren't supposed to wear these, usually: they're reserved for professors and their own assistants. But it closes right where that damn, one little button stretches the fabric to its very limits, creating a large opening that leaves nothing to his already very active imagination. No one would fault him for bending the rules a little if they had any idea of the struggle of completing a single task around you in that forsakenly translucent top.

It's not a perfect solution, by any means, but he hopes it'll at least allow him to start thinking in his own damn lab again. Just a temporary fix, until he gets his feelings for you under control. You seem delighted by the present, so he figures he's fixed the issue in a relatively acceptable and satisfactory manner.

The next day, you show up with the jacket.

Only the jacket.

You've discarded the white blouse, and there's nothing but your bra underneath the piece of clothing he naively thought would solve all his problems. There’s now nothing stopping him from fully, openly gaping at your exposed chest every time you bend, or lean forward even slightly.

He's made it worse. So much worse. It's quite possibly his biggest failure as an inventor, because he's effectively trapped himself into getting a full face of your tits every time he even glances in your direction.

Viktor has engineered his own fucking demise with nothing but a jacket.

Next time, he's simply going to get you a full-body suit to wear around the lab; you know, as a safety precaution, for wielding sharp tools and participating in dangerous experiments. He wouldn't want his most efficient assistant to get hurt in a preventable work-related accident, after all.

It’ll protect him and his dwindling sanity far more than anything else, but you really don't need to know that.

[stevesjockstrap]

Eddie discovers origami and very soon the surfaces in Steve’s room are overrun with cranes and frogs and fish and butterflies.

One day he sees writing on a wing of one and slides it apart.

Those two moles on your neck make me want to bite them.

He reaches over for another one that says, I want to live in your chest hair.

Eddie walks through the door to see Steve in a heap of opened notes on the floor.

“You just now opened them?”

“I… I didn’t know.”

“Then why did you keep all of them?”

“Because they were from you.”

“Oh.”

[astral-aromance]

Grandchildren

Imagine being Nerdanel, sure that your family is lost to you forever. You're completely alone. Even after over 6000 years, your bed still feels empty without your husband there. There's no noise in the kitchen where the brothers are fighting over the last apple, despite all of them knowing there's a whole apple tree right outside the window. No smoke coming from the smithy, no papers with blue prints and miracles scattered around. No dog hair clogging up the drain. No music at 3 am. Nothing.

But then, one day, this Elf shows up at your door. He's shorter than usual, and he looks older than you have ever seen an elf look. He says, "I'm your grandson," and suddenly, you are not completely alone anymore. Elrond is nice, you like him. The music room gets used again, even if only a little. It brings you joy.

A few decades go by, and a Raven brings you a summon from Mandos. You except Tyelpë is finally coming home to you, but instead, it's an elf you have NEVER met before. Tall, stoic, and dark-haired, Nolofinwëan in all ways, but his eyes are unmistakably those of your husband. Those of your eldest son. He is just as surprised to see you there, as is Anairë, but you work it out. Turns out Ereinion and Elrond always thought of one another as brothers, now they actually are. One morning, you go downstairs for tea, and you hear the King yell at the Lord about stealing his strawberries off his plate.

Elrond goes to the havens to meet his sons. Surprisingly, the Seagull carried a summon for you as well. Two identical faces greet you, and your heart stings with old grief. You turn to leave, but spot something unusual. Another Peredhil, shy and distancing himself from the others. He looks like Elrond in hair and build, but... Elrond didn't have any other children, did he? One of the twins tugs on his arm and tries to pull him into the crowd, and the newcomer scowls at him. His face turns bright red. Soon after, you find detailed descriptions of Finarfin's failure as a king when it comes to finances on your coffee table.

Tyelpë returns too, turns out he knew all of them, and they get along great. Maybe a little too well, because they start shutting you out. They stop talking when you walk into the room. They hastily hide documents beneath their robes when you pass them. You don't know what they're up to, but at least your house isn't silent anymore, and the forge burns again.

You realise that they are indeed of your house when it comes to stubborn determination when on a quiet Tuesday afternoon 8 Ravens show up to your house with summons, and none of the grandchildren seem surprised.

You are happy as you step out the front door toward Mandos, carrying a basket with 8 sets of robes, a blanket, cups, some bread, some cheese, and a very strong bottle of wine.

[donttakemehome]

Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe mix their DNA (don't think about it too much) and magically create a child. It's a girl, which is great. But to Binghe's great disappointment, she looks just like Binghe. Perfect skin, soft fluffy hair, big brown eyes that flash red, a tiny demon mark on her forehead. No shred of Shizun in her!

SQQ: "What do you expect? You have heavenly demon blood! Your genes probably beat up my genes without even breaking a sweat!"

Binghe: "What are 'genes', Shizun?"

At first, Binghe doesn't know how to feel about having to share Shizun's love. But every time SQQ holds the baby, he looks so soft and beautiful, like he's been blessed by the heavens, and they look so perfect together, that Binghe can't find it in himself to be jealous. Especially when SQQ keeps repeating: "I can't believe how perfect she is. Look, Binghe! She has your eyes! And your nose! She's as beautiful as you!" (SQQ is too overwhelmed by fatherhood hormones to be embarrassed about saying nice things.)

The first time Binghe holds the baby, she looks up at him adoringly. She is tiny, and helpless, and Binghe wraps her in his arms. She is his poor mother's beautiful grandchild. She is Shizun's daughter. Binghe will protect her with his life.

At 8 months old, the girl is a champion crawler. Binghe and SQQ joke about racing her against other babies for money. Physically, she's a lot like other babies, but she already talks in complete sentences.

Father Qingqiu says, "Your father Binghe is the most powerful man in the demon or human realm. He is very special and brave, and you are special because you are his daughter!" He tickles her, and she giggles and repeats, "Special. I'm special."

Father Binghe says, "Your father Shizun is the wisest, kindest, most beautiful man in the world. You must try to be just like him when you grow up. You're already very clever, aren't you?"

She frowns. "But Father Qingqiu said I'm special because I'm just like you."

Father Binghe gets a little teary. "He said that?" Then he shakes his head. "Never mind! Don't listen to Father Shizun. Listen to me!"

She giggles, curly pigtails bobbing. "Okay."

"Okay. Now let's go cook lunch for Father Shizun. He loves our cooking and it keeps him happy and healthy!"

"Happy," she agrees.

Then she says, "Down", because she wants to get to the kitchen by herself. She wants to be powerful like Father Binghe and wise like Father Qingqiu, and she doesn't know how to achieve that yet, but she's pretty sure it involves learning how to walk.

[ratmare]

When the Lords of Leipa are summoned to treat, there are rumors flickering in the halls concerning the young swordsman accompanying Lord Capon. He’s a popular fellow. Many of the nobility toast him as the savior of Suchdol, and some offer him thanks for his hand in their own personal good fortune. But in the serving quarters below the banquet hall those who pay attention find reason to be wary.

They keep their voices hushed as they collect around the table, bowls of stew held close and prayers whispered before daring to take a bite. The chambermaid is the first to speak and she swears Lord Capon’s page hasn't touched his bed since arriving at the castle.

“Of course he hasn’t. When you all sleep, he mounts his horse and sets off God knows where.” The stableboy hisses. “There wasn’t a sliver of moon last night but he rode torchless, like hell itself was on his heels.”

“I’ve talked to him a fair bit.” The laundress stares blankly into her supper. “He’s kind enough not to haggle and even supplies his own soap, but it's the same pair of hose, gambeson and black waffenrock.”

“They’re soaked in blood each time.” The broth slip from her spoon, thin and murky rivulets dribbling back into her bowl. “And his eyes…they were blown black every morning, it almost looked like they were bleeding into the whites. Gave me the shivers.”

A huntsman leaning against the wall takes a long swig from his wineskin. “I want to believe I was seeing things but I stumbled on him dressing a deer in the Lord’s woods. When he was done he threw some of the meat to his hound and then took a handful for himself…I swear to the Blessed Virgin I saw him eat it raw.”

More than a few at the table cross themselves, mutters of “God protect us” rising into the air to mingle with the kitchen smoke.

“Henry seems like a fine man to me.” A serving girl fumbles with the hem of her sleeve. “He brewed fever tonic for Ludmilla’s child and wouldnt accept a groschen for it.”

“Did you see him make it though! The man was plucking belladonna and nettle barehanded. It’s devilry.”

“You don’t think Lord Capon would really have a demon in his service?” She frowns. “He prays in front of the wayside shrine each morning, and a demon could never do that”

“The devil quoteth scripture to suit his needs.” The farrier presses his tongue into his cheek, arms folded over his chest, and several at the table nod in solemn agreement.

“Devils is right.” The nightwatchman says. “You should hear the wailing that comes from his room after midnight.”

“So he beds a lass or two.” She shrugs. “Hardly unusual for a handsome lad like that.”

“Weren’t no lass in his quarters. Them were the moans of the damned I swear.”

“True enough.” The stableboy pipes up. “I bet thats why he rides all night. He’s out collecting souls for the Devil and then throws them into the flames for his master to feast on.”

“That’s nonsense!” The serving girl huffs. “The only master that man is interested in serving is Lord Capon.”

“But you see that’s the crux of it.” He leans in, voice low. “Don’t you find Lord Capon’s good fortune a little…suspicious?”

“Good fortune? The man’s been caged more times than a pigeon!”

“Shhh shhhh, yes, but he’s been freed each time and his uncle hasn’t had to ransom a single groschen for him.” He flicks his eyes between them waiting for the realization to dawn, but the serving girl is stone faced and the rest are slow with wine or fear.

“Capon sold his soul.” He concludes and the serving girl’s face instantly curdles.

“Blasphemy.”

“No it’s the truth. Do you really believe a no name peasant who’s held a sword for less than a year could rescue a lord half a dozen times.”

“That’s divine providence. Not devilry”

“”You think God favors some bratty lord from Sasau over our poor King locked in Vienna?” The huntsman quirks an eyebrow. “And after talking to our new bathmaiden from Rattay I don’t think God wants anything to do with that man.”

The stableboy slaps the table in agreement. “The rescues are one thing, but the marriage? Getting old Kunstadt to agree to that union had to take some bewitchment.”

She snorts. “You think Master Henry’s playing matchmaker?”

“If he is what I believe him to be there’s no telling what the limits to his powers might be.”

“This is all such foolishness.” She pushes back against the table as she moves to stand. “It’s plain as day you’re just jealous of a man who’s risen far above his station and has earned the friendship and admiration of the man he serves.”

“Careful how you speak, wench.” The stableboy hisses, teeth grit and finger punching at the air above her heart. “Or you’ll be dragged to Hell with Capon and his curr.”

“What’s that?” A new voice cuts through the air, deep and cold. They all turn to see a man standing in the doorway, the kitchen fire glints off the buttons of his black gambeson and combs bronze streaks through his chestnut hair. But the eyes that find the stableboy are icy.

“Did I mishear?” Henry takes a slow stride toward their table, gaze flitting from one face to the next. “It sounded as if you were speaking ill of my master.”

The stableboy feels the blood chill beneath his skin from this devil’s stare. He must be a devil. He’s seen more floggings than Christmases but his heart’s never hammered this hard from a man who’s yet to even raise a hand to him.

“O-of course not, m’lord.” He offers, throat clicking.

“Not a lord.” He draws closer, face inches from his. “Certainly not yours.”

“I can’t have you thrown into the stocks or horse whipped, but know that if I ever learn that you’ve spoken another unkind word about Sir Capon that I will have you begging for a Lord’s idea of justice.”

“Are we clear?”

He nods frantically, eyes pressed shut.

“Good.” He eases back just enough to allow the idiot to bolt, and like that the tension seems to lessen, a smile warms the swordsman’s face as he turns to the serving girl. “Ahhhh Anna is this your work it smells delicious.”

“It’s got that venison you brought me.” She smiles handing him a bowl. “Tried to dress it up a bit with some of Ludmilla’s spices.”

“You have a gift” He grins around a mouthful while he fumbles with the pouch at his belt. “Oh and before I forget here’s that wine you asked for.”

“Oh Henry, you are an angel. How did you manage it I thought Peter would laugh in your face?”

“I have my ways.” He winks.

Finis

Just a little quick and dirty drabble because good natured/kind protagonists being seen as creepy by outsiders is my absolute favorite trope

So did anyone else get the Tartare perk from the Mill? That’s gonna be hard to explain to his friends hehe, but oh boy is it good inspo for monster!Henry fics. Additionally, I always feel bad for mistiming nighthawk potions so Henry’s ryes are dilated during daytime. All that belladonna must make him look freaky.

[kaoribriefs]

it was strange for her, it was something new even though she hadn't been a child for a long time. Dany found this way of making love from her new husband strange, he was hungry of her but it wasn't the same hunger of her sun and stars or the forgotten Daario, no, Jon Snow cared about giving her pleasure, he was strangely altruistic , when he put his head between her legs, he caressed her or looked into her eyes gently as he moved inside her. For the first time Dany felt a new warmth inside like she no longer felt from the red door, she didn't worry about being enough for Jon...but only about hearing his heartbeat...in the night.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU SPEAK HIS NATIVE LANGUAGE TO HIM (18+) (One Piece) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after remembering that Luffy is Brazilian. Enjoy! And please, PLEASE let me know if any of the foreign phrases used are not correct or accurate. I did the research on Google. Thank you! -Jazz 🩷🩷

*********

LUFFY (PORTGUESE) 

You always loved it when Luffy spoke in his native language. 

He is from Brazil and though he hadn’t lived there in years since meeting Shanks and traveling among the Grand Line with the Strawhats crew, nothing and nobody could ever take the Brazilian out of him. It was in his blood. 

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on). 

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned.

Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!” 

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling. 

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry.

“Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.” 

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!”

You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him. 

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment. 

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.” 

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!” 

ZORO (JAPANESE) 

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese. 

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole.

“Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.” 

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were. 

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down. 

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat. 

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.” 

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.” 

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. “And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head. 

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.” 

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.” 

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane. 

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock.

“Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him. 

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese.

Mission accomplished. 

SANJI (FRENCH) 

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language. 

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song.

Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”. 

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears.

“Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).”

He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth. 

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you. 

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you. 

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!” 

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven. 

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)” 

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy. 

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.” 

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”. 

LAW (GERMAN) 

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew. 

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge. 

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner. 

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!” 

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter. 

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.” 

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).” 

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue. 

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table. 

“Shut up!” Law growled as you laughed. He was gonna get you back for that later tonight.

[loulou-land]

Day 41 of @118dailydrabble - “Hostage”

Pairing: bucktommy | Mature (suggestive I think 😅) |

Buck was sprawled across Tommy’s chest grinning wickedly. “I’m keeping you hostage,” he declared, lacing their fingers together. “Two days. No interruptions. I’ve missed you, and I have needs.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound rumbling through Buck’s ear. “Is that so?”

Before Buck could answer, Tommy’s phone buzzed, Eddie’s name flashing on the screen. Buck poked Tommy’s ribs. “Uh-uh, nope. Hostage, remember? No calls from best friends trying to steal you away.”

Tommy laughed, pulling Buck closer and pressing a kiss to his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I'm your ridiculous.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tommy murmured.

Smiling, Buck started kissing down his chest, more determined than ever to keep his man exactly where he was.

[lovemebutleavemewild]

John Price would not understand the concept of keeping things casual and if you told him that's what you wanted, he'd assume it meant you didn't want a big dress for your wedding.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Do you accept orders? could you do a story about Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce, on the day of the ball, the reader wears a dress that made her look more beautiful and cute than usual and was therefore drawing people's attention at the ball to she , would the boys be jealous or possessive? Would they punish the reader?

- 🌸

Hi anon 🌸!! I'm not taking requests for fics currently, because I've got quite a few ongoing projects, but you can check my pinned post or my header description to know whenever I am 💕! But I just HAD to blabber about that idea for a second because I LOVE jealous shenanigans

Viktor and Jayce both strike me as the jealous type, but in two very different ways.

Viktor is the more silent, envious type of jealous. He has too much self-respect to just throw himself in front of you dramatically. So, he watches. He overanalyses every look anyone gives you, any kiss of your hand that seems to last a second too long. He’s methodical, following you around like a shadow the entire night with a falsely polite smile plastered on his lips. It's just one night, he tells himself, one night of pompous nobles leering at your cleavage and showering you with compliments. In the end, it won't matter, because you'll be in his bed when this is over, not theirs.

He won't outright tell you he was jealous, because he's embarrassed at the idea of seeming childish, but boy, will he still let you know. Expect bite marks on every visible inch of your skin and the imprint of his pretty fingers around your neck and thighs. He'll probably edge you a few times, have you beg and moan his name in tears without letting you cum, just to feel like he's the one in control again. He's willing to admit he's a little petty when it comes to you.

Others might not know it was him when they see your smeared makeup and strategically placed bruises tomorrow, but you will, and that's really all that matters to him.

Jayce is the visibly possessive type of jealous. Is some diplomat telling you a funny story? Jayce doesn't give a damn about decorum. His hand will quickly wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him and he'll enter the conversation with a megawatt smile as if he's always been part of it. But his hand will stay firmly in place for everyone to see what's off limits. In fact, it would be almost impossible to find him not touching you in some way, whether that be by gently replacing wayward strands of hair or wiping away imaginary stains of wine around your lips. He can't help it, especially when he sees others look at you with the same desire that he has for you. He has to show that you're his.

Jayce will be especially talkative in bed after that, constantly mumbling your name under his breath as he fucks you, repeating the word ‘mine’ over and over again. He's very petty about it too, asking if you liked having everyone's attention on you, if you got off to strangers undressing you with their eyes. If he’s gotten really rilled up, the usual “baby” and “princess” might become a “whore” or “slut”. Always his whore though. Nobody else's. He doesn't say it to be mean, in fact he tends to feel bad afterwards, but he needs confirmation straight from your lips that you don't care about them. That the only one you want to ruin you is him.

If you oblige, you are getting fucked raw on the closest available surface for a solid three rounds. You're too tired for another one? That's alright, he’ll pump his cock in his fist right above your entrance, and only push in when he's ready to cum. He'll fill you until he’s satisfied no one could look at you and doubt for a second who fucked you that good.

[stevesjockstrap]

Feral linecook Eddie Munson shamelessly flirting with brand new never worked in a kitchen before in his life server Steve Harrington

Makes a point to fuck up dishes for his tables so they get returned and he gets to see the embarrassed blush across his freckled cheeks when he brings them back, and so he has to spend more time at the window where Eddie can say raunchy things to him

Eddie showing him diligently how to do his side work before he can leave, so he can walk out with him and offer him a hit of his joint when they’re done

Steve scared to put in his tickets for his own meals because then Eddie will know he’s on break and take his own break, sprawled out on a folding chair in the back room, shamelessly staring at him

Steve staring back at his tattoos and piercings and the little tendrils of hair that fall out of his updo

Gareth beside him on the line snickering into his shoulder at the absolutely unhinged things Eddie gets away with saying and doing

[sallie-nathalies]

Bachelors and their pregnant wives. Hope that you enjoy it! Bachelorettes reactions, here

ALEX

Before you get pregnant, you will enjoy your marriage as a young couple. Alex is healthy, full of energy, and has many needs. Sometimes, he will literally just see you doing your farm chores and suddenly get turned on. Are you milking a cow? Sexy. Are you sowing your crops? Hot. Did a slime try to kill you? Oh yeah, let me take care of you, babe.

Many times, your encounters will be raw and uncontrollable… until the inevitable happens—you accidentally get pregnant.

Even though it wasn’t planned, Alex will be excited and happy. He’ll start talking about how he wants his own gridball team! You have to stop him right there because there’s no way you’re giving birth to that many children!

He’ll also come up with lots of “cool names” for the baby, but they’re terrible (and honestly, they sound more like dog names). Once again, you have to step in and remind him that the baby is a human being and needs a proper name.

Determined to be a responsible adult (at least, in his own way), Alex will do his best to provide for you and the baby. He’ll take extra shifts selling ice cream, work hard to earn every possible gridball scholarship, and start taking his studies seriously to finish his degree.

At one point, you even catch him preparing for a JojaMart interview. Once again, you have to step in—this time with Sam and Shane—to stage an intervention. You remind him that he doesn’t need to ruin his life that way.

Even though some of his ideas are crazy, you appreciate his efforts and the fact that he genuinely wants to be a good father. He didn’t expect this pregnancy, and the responsibility of raising a child came sooner than planned, but through his actions, he shows you that he’s committed to being by your side and doing whatever it takes for you and the baby. That gives you a sense of security and fills you with warmth, seeing just how much he has grown.

He is definitely not like his father. He is a better man.

SEBASTIAN

Before the pregnancy, he isn’t sure if he wants to have kids or be a househusband. In fact, he never even wanted to live in Pelican Town—but then you came into his life and turned it upside down. Relationships require compromise and sacrifice, and you are more than worthy of those sacrifices.

However, as the pregnancy progresses, he will have doubts and fears about this decision. You got pregnant by accident, and he will begin to have nightmares about the future and he will smoke more often. He will try to cope with his growing anxiety in silence. He’s afraid of the changes a baby will bring to your home, of losing his independence, and of not being the kind of father a child deserves.

You notice his struggles and realize he needs reassurance. You remind him that he will be a good father, that everything will turn out fine, and that fatherhood doesn’t mean the end of his life—it’s just a new chapter. But words alone aren’t enough, so you come up with an idea.

You decided to take a break from farm work once a week and bring him to Zuzu City to connect with the urban life he craves. You know the city well, and you take him to all the best places: your favorite old café, the music store where you used to go, even a rooftop with a beautiful view of the city and the skyline.

He will enjoy it, but soon, he will realize it's not the place that matters, it’s the people he’s with, and you are an important one. The city is chaotic and noisy, a stark contrast to his own calm and introverted nature. What he once thought he wanted pales in comparison to what he now loves. He begins to see that change isn’t always a bad thing.

From that moment on, he shows more commitment. He starts reading books about parenting and accompanies you to Harvey’s clinic appointments much more often. Slowly but surely, his fears are replaced with a cautious but growing excitement.

He may not have planned for this, but he’s choosing to embrace it. And that means everything.

SAM

Before the pregnancy, he always liked children. Vincent is a good kid, and he genuinely enjoyed being the older brother. He took pride in looking out for him, teaching him little things, and playing together. And when their father was overseas, he naturally stepped into a substitute father role, helping Jodi whenever she needed support.

In fact, he developed a good relationship with Penny due to the frequent parent-teacher conferences he attended with his mother.

So when you finally tell him you want to have children, he doesn’t hesitate for a second—he’s all in. And with that decision made, well… you two won’t exactly hold back. The passion between you intensifies, and let's just say you’ll be acting like rabbits.

The moment you tell him the good news, he is ecstatic—so much so that he immediately wants to share it with everyone. He tells his parents, his brother, his friends—he simply can’t contain his excitement.

During pregnancy he starts strumming the guitar for you in the evenings creating a peaceful atmosphere that helps you relax after long days. He will attend all of Harvey’s appointments with you, asking plenty of questions about parenting and child-rearing. Determined to be a good father and househusband, he will start visiting his mother more often to learn how to cook and clean. He will be clumsy, meals will burn or being oversalty, but he will improve with time. He will also invite you to dinner at his parents’ home because, to him, this is a major family event—one that will bring joy to everyone.

ELLIOTT

Before the pregnancy, he is fully focused on his writing career. He wants to be a successful writer and spends much of his time writing, working on different stories. However, he will never neglect you he makes sure to show you how much he loves you. You will know for sure that you are his priority. You’ll find yourselves enjoying many sweet, passionate sex together.

Your pregnancy comes a little earlier than expected, but he is fully committed to being by your side. Even thought these makes him feel a whirlwind of emotions, he will be calm and he will try to make you feel the same.

As the pregnancy progresses, he becomes even sweeter and more attentive. He’s always making sure that you are taking care of yourself and that you are content. You’ll dance together most days. It will be gentle, slowly, as he holds you close and when the weather is good, he will take you to the beach, so you can enjoy a good activity and encourages you to move a little.

However, despite his calm exterior, he is deeply worried about your well-being during childbirth. He reads a lot about the process, researching everything he can to make sure you’re well prepared. He will make a lot of questions to Harvey, and he wants to know what to expect, how to support you during labor, and how to handle any unexpected situations. He’s really scared of something going wrong.

You can see his fear in his eyes, and while it’s sweet that he cares so much, you know you need to reassure him. You remind him that you are in good hands and that everything will be fine. His anxiety eases a little bit, but it will never go until the arrival of your first child.

SHANE

Before pregnancy, he was already a father, and of course, he wanted to have his own biological children with you. Jas had fulfilled his life in ways he never expected, and watching her grow up made him feel like he has a good purpose in life. Watching her milestones, like graduating from first grade, learning to write and read, talking about his friends Vincent and Leo, and being a happy little girl, made him feel some proud of himself.

He is also into certain kinks related to pregnancy, and the moment you tell him you want to have children, the excitement in his blood will run hotter. Those weeks were going to be intense, for sure! He would be all over you, eager to make it happen, taking full advantage of the situation. There was no holding back, and he would pour all his love into the process.

When your period arrived in the first month, he felt a little disappointed...but actually no, because he knew it wasn’t time to give up. You just had to keep trying, right? <3

Even during the early weeks of pregnancy, you would be intimate as if he was trying to make another baby.

But once your pregnancy became more noticeable, he would become soft, and he will be more and more tender and protective towards. "No, my angel, stay in bed, relax, read a book or watch TV, I’ll take care of everything today!" he’d say. "You have been working all day. Let me rub your feet!" This man will take any opportunity to pamper you.

And if you ever craved something, even something as random as a pineapple in the middle of the night, he would do whatever it took to get it for you. "Alright, stay here, I’ll wake Pierre up to bring you the pineapple!" he’d say with a smile, ready to do whatever he could for you.

HARVEY

Before the pregnancy, he genuinely enjoys being married. He loves sharing his life with you, and while he’s content in your relationship, he admits that he would feel more fulfilled with children around. The idea of starting a family has always been something he secretly longed for. He’s the one who brings it up first, asking you if you’re ready for parenthood.

When you agree, he feels like the happiest man on earth. The moment you tell him you’re pregnant, he hugs you tighly. He can't express enough how much he loves you.

As your pregnancy progresses, he totally gets into his "doctor mode". He will ensure that you are as healthy and comfortable as possible. He will cook nutritious meals, making sure your diet is rich in the vitamins and minerals needed for both you and the baby. You will take supplements if you need them, and he will read a lot of medicine magazines enfocused on pregnancy. He is also very keen to encourage you to do exercise with the other women in town on Tuesdays.

While he’s doing everything he can to care for you, his own responsibilities, make it difficult for him to keep up with all the house and farm chores. He feels guilty that he can’t do it all, so he proposes hiring someone to help with the farm chores. After some consideration, he suggests Shane, Robin and Marnie, as they are reliable and capable. Even though his schedule is demanding, he wants to make sure you are not neglected and that your pregnancy is as smooth and stress-free as possible.

Please, if you enjoyed it, comment, like and reblog. This helps me to grow, write and bring you more material like this. Also, I accept requests and suggestions. Thank you very much!

[ratmare]

Halfway to the apothecary, Hans' thigh begins to chafe around the sweatsoaked rags. At least, he hopes it's sweat. God help him if that bite is festering. There's no kindly herbwoman to supply him a bed or idiot bodyguards to force her tonics down his throat. Hans grimaces at the idea of Henry being there for that whole shit show.

Hans, how could you not check that the wolf was truly dead. and Hans! You should've washed that wound immediately Christ, he never would have heard the end of it. All that fussing and griping would have put him in the grave. No, no, he is perfectly equipped to deal with this on his own

He flips his hood over his damp hair as Troskowitz wobbles into view, and prays he can get through this without being recognized. From the sound of it most of the yokels have already found their way to the tavern. He keeps his eyes down as he shambles on and half collapses onto the counter when he finally makes it inside that German's shop (damn him for having it on the second floor).

"Guten Abend, mein Herr." "Bandages and some salve for my wounds. The best you have." The German's blank expression makes him think better of it and he tries to smooth things over with a gritted smile. "...please." "I was on the wrong side of some wolves this morning, and I would quite like to pay for your assistance instead of the sawbones." "Ja...you are in luck." The apothecary shuffles through his inventory, and Hans tries to follow his hands instead of the worrying throbbing heat traveling up towards his hip."My best supplier visited today. I think you will be quite satisfied with his decoction." "How much?" "One hundred groschem." "A hundred?! Are you yanking my pizzle?" He gapes.

"Ich meine es erst. You said you wanted my best and you will find no better in the region." " He shakes his head. "I, myself, can't figure out how he does it. " "At that price, it better be distilled from gold and Saint Luke's piss." The wound on his leg and the lightness of his purse has his tongue hot, and he thrusts out his chin before he can think better of it. "I'll give you 40." "Have a fine rest of your evening, goodsir." "Alright, alright, fifty five, and I'll throw in these absolutely lovely hare pelts. What do you say?" Hans whips out his least matted pelts from the depths of his pack, and smiles over them for the German. "You can have that Barto-fella fix up something nice for the Missus, hm?"

"Seventy five and then please leave."

"You've got a deal, goodman!" He offers up his hand to shake but is more than fine when the phial and some crumpled bandages are pushed into his palm instead. He measures out his payment and slips back through the door. The lock clunks behind him, but he's got what he came for. Seeking a little privacy to redress his wounds he limps over to the little shack crumpled in the corner of the garden. The phial's lip has been dipped in red wax, and a few letters have been scratched near the neck of the bottle. He rolls his eyes, some yokel's attempt at a maker's mark. He cracks through the wax shell with his teeth and knows deep down he's been fleeced when the scent hits him.

It's just marigold decoction. Peasant brew. Even he could probably brew this. "Bastard." He hisses as he unwinds the bandages. Next time he drops off a kill for that butcher he's going to dump the entrails in that Kraut fucker's garden. He contemplates tossing it, but something's better than nothing. Really what choice does he have? "Sweet mother Mary, I wish I was drunk for this." He winces as he tips the mixture over the gash. Good lord, it stings. He has to bite into the meat of his arm to keep the warbling scream from alerting the guards, but slowly as the syrup sinks into the divots in his flesh, the pain mellowing into something warm. The hot throbs that he took to be the footsteps of an approaching fever soften, and the relief is priceless. "Maybe you're gold and holy piss after all." He murmurs as he thumbs over the wound marveling at how his touch can linger without pain. Whoever made this is wasting their talents in this backwater. He runs his tongue over his teeth at the thought of having someone so skilled over in Rattay. Well, if he's that German's "best supplier" he's no doubt got enough standing to be invited to the wedding, so he can just pluck him from the rabble once all this is straightened out. That'd be a fine souvenir for all the trouble he's been through. He brings up the bottle to the candlelight and squints at the maker's mark once again A lopsided S sits atop the heavy horizontal stroke of an H, and Hans screams into his fist. God, must you follow me everywhere. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and feels the flash of outrage bubble into laughter, because of course even after everything Henry would be there to lick his wounds for him.

Finis