#robert the love of my life has done it again

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Aesthetic Moodboards // “These Days” by Tide Lines

Darling, we’re going to miss these days.

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him. 

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together. 

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away. 

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him. 

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

 Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it. 

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one. 

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating. 

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone. 

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

-----------------------------

When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked. 

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

-----------------------------

Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come. 

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

---------------------------

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

-------------------------

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years. 

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again. 

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

----------------------------------

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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[y13evie]

Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

[fastbrother]

Desperate (M, 1.3k words)

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Tags: From Sex to Love, Grumpy Harry, Reclusive Harry, Slutty Draco (non-derogatory), unhealthy coping mechanisms, middle-aged Drarry

Author's note: Wrote this for @kamaela's birthday. Thank you for always being so kind and encouraging! 💕

* * *

For eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy starting Hogwarts, the only interesting question about school was who was going to come in second in his year. Imagine his surprise.

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Some days, it feels like he’s slept with everybody worth sleeping with. Other days—well.

* * *

When he was young, Draco Malfoy thought he liked women. He slept with a handful of girls, all very proper and sweet.

Then the war came, and he was in it, and he was tortured by the Dark Lord himself, which rewired his brain somehow, because after the war Draco Malfoy did not like women anymore. Nor anything proper. Or sweet.

Draco Malfoy liked to be fucked like he’d be murdered next.

* * *

Harry Potter is a big old grump. He lives in what should have been Draco’s house by birthright, nurses a terrifying beard currently in the process of turning grey, and only ever goes out in Muggle London, like the uncivilised brute Draco knows he really is. Draco dreams of being fucked by Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, the slayer of Dark Lords. And whatever rude people say, Draco’s a man who works for his dreams.

* * *

“Harry Potter. Out and about. What a surprise.”

Potter barely spares a glance for poor Draco. His eyes are glued to the Muggle TV above the bar, in the process of broadcasting some beastly excuse for movement that the Muggles call sports. There are five empty glasses in front of him, and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

“Fuck right off, Malfoy.”

“Ah, I’m afraid not,” Draco says, and sits on the barstool next to Harry. “You go, if my presence bothers you so.”

“I don’t give a shit about your presence.”

“Beautiful. Have you taken to writing poetry, by any chance?”

“Tell me, Malfoy,” Potter says, slowly turning those grotesquely green eyes towards him. “You look like someone who makes enemies in every room he walks into. How come you’re still alive?”

“I have my ways.”

“Aha,” Potter says, emptying his sixth glass of whiskey, eyes back on the TV. “I’ve heard about your ways.”

“Would you like some first-hand experience with them?”

Potter lets out a chuckle, a loud and brutish sound.

“Have you been following me?”

“Hardly. I’ve been coming here every night for six months. Ask Robert.”

“Who’s Robert?”

“I’m Robert,” the barman says, pouring Potter’s seventh drink.

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Robert,” Potter says, and raises his drink. “So. Has he?”

“Yes.”

Potter turns to Draco. Offers a vicious smile that makes Draco’s body tingle in all the right places.

“I used to come here all the time. Before the Prophet published a photo of me. Six months ago.”

Draco shrugs. “Can’t a boy try his luck?”

Potter leans forward and pulls Draco’s stool closer to him.

“You’re no boy. You’re a slut.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco moans, biting his lip. “I am. I’m a bad, bad slut.”

* * *

Harry Potter fucks like he goes to war. There’s no fear there, no second guessing. Draco could die now, bent over a dirty sink in a dingy Muggle bar, and he’d be happy. He should die, actually, because what else is there to experience? He has peaked, and life can only be a disappointment from this point on.

“Please,” he begs when all is done. “Again.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Potter says, pulling up his pants. “But there are people queuing outside.”

“I’ll get rid of them. I’ll kill them. Nobody will miss them too much, I’m sure.”

“How about this,” Potter says, fixing his hair back in a ponytail. “You keep coming here every night for another six months, and maybe I’ll drop by again.”

“Don’t play with me, Potter. You know I will.”

“Oh, I know.”

* * *

Draco expects Potter to torture him for at least a couple of weeks, but he strolls into that cursed Muggle pub the next day. He’s wearing jeans and a ripped t-shirt. Truly living up to his reputation of decorated ex-Auror and beloved hero, this one.

“My, my,” he says, sitting next to Draco and gesturing to Robert for a drink. “What a good pet.”

“Aha,” Draco says, draping himself all over Potter’s offensively attractive attire.

“Let me get a drink in me first,” Potter says, struggling to keep Draco at arm’s length.

“If you wanted a drink, you could have gone to another pub.”

* * *

Robert bans them eventually. Draco’s about to Obliviate him but Potter solves the issue by inviting him to his house.

“You mean, my house,” Draco corrects him.

Potter doesn’t seem impressed. “How about we call it a night, then.”

“Fine. I relinquish all rights to that home. You can have it forever. You can have the Manor, too, if you want.”

Potter laughs, and grabs Draco’s arm. “I love how desperate you are.”

“Oh, I’m desperate, alright.”

Five minutes later, Draco’s thirst is finally quenched when Potter bends him over a Black encrusted dining room table. Draco discovers he has quite the taste for family intrusions.

“In front of my great-grandmother’s portrait next, please,” he begs. Potter, the charitable soul he is, complies. Predictably, his great-grandmother calls Potter Muggle-loving filth.

“He is, granny,” Draco moans, face squished against some dusty yet tasteful wallpaper. “He’s the filthiest person that’s ever lived.”

* * *

“Are you some form of house pest? A Black family curse? Why can’t I get rid of you?” Potter says when Draco shows up on his doorstep, carrying a bottle of wine and appetisers as any man of the world would.

“Get rid of me, then,” Draco says, and walks in.

* * *

Potter is on an agenda to steal Draco’s elves and have them clean his shithole of a house. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why he’s taken to drinking with them.

“Stop entertaining the staff. You should be entertaining the Master. And there’s no smoking in the sunroom.”

“There is, now,” Potter says, lighting up a second cigarette with his wand. “There’s a new Master around here.”

“Master Potter,” the elves say in unison, drunk on the Butterbeer Draco keeps for his nephew.

* * *

It’s all fun and games until Draco catches feelings.

“I’m sick,” he tells anybody who cares to listen, and also those who don’t. “Je suis gravement malade.”

“Pull down the shades,” he tells the house elves from under the heavy duvet. “Owl the Healer.”

“Maybe Master Malfoy should tell Master Potter how he feels.”

“Clothes! Somebody bring clothes!”

* * *

“I heard through the grapevine that you’ve fallen ill.”

Draco peeks at Potter from under his duvet.

“It’s true. I’m dying.”

The bed jounces when Potter sits down next to him. He puts a hand on Draco’s un-feverish forehead.

“It sure looks like it.”

“I just want you to know, I lied about the Manor. I’m leaving everything to my elves.”

Potter’s hand moves down Draco’s face.

“Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” Draco says, his illness intensifying.

“Yes.”

“I thought I was a curse you couldn’t get rid of.”

“You are. You’ve been slacking on the job lately.

Something sharp rattles in Draco’s chest. He moves away from Potter’s touch, and hides under the duvet.

“Hey,” Potter says, leaning until his hand finds Draco’s waist through the thick material. “What happened?”

Silence.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Slowly, Draco shakes his head under the duvet.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Draco nods.

Draco hears ruffling and squeaking, and then Potter gets under the duvet. He’s hot, like a cat.

“Where did all your eloquence go?” Potter says, gathering him in his arms. “What happened to all your fancy words?”

Draco buries his head in Potter’s chest. Takes a deep breath.

“I turn stupid when I’m in love. It’s a debilitating illness.”

“You’re a debilitating illness,” Potter says, and kisses his forehead. “And I’m chronically ill.”

[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[catsteeth]

Hii, I love your writings❤️ Can you write Podrick Payne and the fem reader? The reader is a Jon's twin sister, the Queen in the North. And Podrick has been in love with her for years, from the moment he first saw her. The reader is aware of the situation from the beginning, and when they meet again in the North at the end of the road, she notices once again how Podrick looks at her, but the only difference is that he is not a child anymore.☆

Growing Pains🍎

A/N: Thank you sm angel baby! Now this is what I AM TALKING ABOUT!!! Girl hell yes I can… I love this concept but I am going to take some liberties with the timelines and when Podrick is introduced in the story but let's all just sit back and have fun. You didn’t specify if you wanted smut but girls just wanna have fun so I did it anyway (there will be a cut off so you know when it's coming if you wanna stop reading beforehand) Hope you enjoy it and thank you for the request!! CW: SMUT MDNI, fuff, pining, mention of prostitution, mention of alcohol, fingering, grinding,

You had a hard go of it in life. 

Being the bastard of Ned Stark and the twin of Jon Snow. Having the last name of Snow swayed every person's opinion of you. Except for one, Podrick. A squire of little influence. When he and his Lord Tyrion visited the North with the rest of the Lannister and Baratheon family, he found himself enamored with you.

At first he thought it was because of your fair beauty. Your skin had a glow to it, your eyes as well. 

As the Stark family lined up to greet the royal family you and Jon were standing behind them. An embarrassment to the family but an open embarrassment nonetheless.

As you stood there, you studied all the knights and kings guard that stood before you and your family. You thought some of them were handsome but none captured your interest really. 

That was until your brother Jon nudged you. 

“It would seem you’ve an admirer, dear sister.” He teased as you looked and saw a shorter boy with short brown hair. He was certainly a squire. As your eyes met his he looked away 

nervously. 

You looked back to Jon, “Merely a boy, Jon.” 

“Aye, as you are merely a girl.” He said with a smirk. You nudged him harder and gave him a cold and hard scowl, making him struggle to hold in laughter.

As Lord Tyrion descended from his carriage he stood beside Podrick while he waited for Robert and Nedd to be done with their reunion. However when he looked behind Nedd he noticed Nedd’s bastards giggling like children until Lady Catelyn shot them a glare that shut them up quickly.

However he also noticed how Podricks gaze was fixated on you. His face reveals how pathetically enamored he was with you. Tyrion chuckled to himself and then tugged on Podrick’s sleeve a few times until his attention returned to his Lord. 

“Yes, my Lord?” Podrick asked, 

“You are appointed to serve me, not Ned Stark's bastard daughter.” Tyrion said to Podrick in a teasingly scornful tone. “Is that who that is?” He asked his eyes to stay put on you.

Tyrion nodded, “(Y/N) Snow…” Tyrion spoke your name and to Podrick it sounded like poetry. He looked back over to you as Podrick mouthed your name back to himself. “A beautiful girl,” Tyrion said matter of factly. 

“Yes, yes she is.” Podrick nodded, still unable to tear his gaze away from you. 

“You know what they say about Northern girls?” Tyrion smirked as he looked up at Podrick, 

Podricks gaze finally looked back to Tyrion with a confused look, “No?” 

“Perhaps you’ll find out.” He said with a raised brow, making Podrick swallow hard.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Later that night during the feast you and Jon were turned away from the dining hall. It would be an insult to the royal family if you two were sitting in their field of vision. Gods forbid they were to see a bastard while they ate a meal that your family prepared for them. 

You were content to go to your chambers and wait out the feast before you’d sneak into the kitchen and eat whatever was left. But the plum tree had recently bloomed and it was too tempting for you to wait until the feast was over. 

Normally you’d convince Bran to climb the tree to pick you some but you were alone. So you did the next best thing, convince the next man you saw.

“Hello, kind ser. Could I trouble you for just a moment.” You said to a shadowed form nearby that was approaching. As it got closer you noticed it was the boy that was staring at you from the courtyard beside Lord Tyrion. 

“Yes, yes, my Lady, no trouble at all.” He said, stammering nervously as he walked closer toward you.

“I recognize you… I saw you today. You’re not a Northerner.” You said with narrow eyes.

“N-no, my Lady I am a squire to Lord Tyrion Lannister.”  He spoke softly and sweetly, but again, nervously.

“Huh, not a Ser then.” You furrowed your brows, examining the boy in front of you. Unsure if you could trust him or not. 

He shook his head, “And you’re (Y/N)... Daughter of Nedd Stark.” He was careful not to use the last name of Snow.

“I am.” You said strongly. 

“W-why are you not at the feast my lady?” 

“Lady Catelyn thought it might insult the royal family for me and my brother to be seated in their midst.” You explained 

“Why would she think that?” He asked genuinely, couldn’t understand you being hidden from anyone. 

“I am.. unsightly.” You tried to find the right word,

“I don’t think that is the word to describe you-” 

“A bastard… to put it simply.” You turned your mind back to the task at hand, unwilling to discuss the matter further. You looked up at the plums ripe on the tree behind you. “But nonetheless a bastard gets hungry just the same as anyone else.” You looked back at Podrick hoping he would get the hint. “Can't reach it though.” 

“Yes of course,” He said quickly as soon as he understood what it was you needed from him. 

You giggled to yourself as you watched him struggle to climb the tree. Just as he was about to pick the best one, his foot slipped and he fell out of the tree, with tons of plums following him. “Oof!” He grunted as he hit the ground and was covered in plums.

“Oh!” You shouted as you ran up to him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you kneeled beside him, “I am sorry, I do not mean to laugh!” You covered your mouth trying to conceal your amusement, 

He looked up at you with stars in his eyes, that could have been the fall but he was sure that you looked like you were made by the Gods themselves. “That’s alright,” He said softly with a dimwitted smile on his face. 

You kissed his cheek as a token of your appreciation, when you did he thought he might die. “I thank you.” You said as you grabbed a plum from his lap, making him blush, 

“Of-Of course my Lady,” He stammered,

You bit into the juicy plum, “I’m no Lady.” You stood and walked away. 

However, that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you crossed paths. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When Jon left for the nights watch and was to leave for Kings Landing with your sisters, Lady Catelyn made it clear she wanted you gone. So you went with your sisters, however in KingsLanding you worked as a handmaiden. 

But this did just give Podrick more of an opportunity to fawn over you. 

When given the chance, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. 

On one occasion you and Podrick got drunk off of his Lord Tyrion’s wine when you were alone. You threw cherries across a room while Podrick attempted to catch them in his mouth. 

Tyrion walked in when he heard the commotion and drunk laughter from the hallway. He could see the love in the drunk Podricks eyes clear as day. 

He felt slightly responsible for Podrick and offered him a gift of experience. He took Podrick to a pleasure house where he said  “If you’re going to take that bastard girl's maidenhead, you might as well know how to do it well.” 

“We are only friends, my Lord.” He stammered nervously,

“Unlikely it will stay that way.” He said as he left him alone with the three women.

That wouldn’t happen in Kings Landing however. After the execution of your father you traveled North to your Brother Jon.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Years later however, after a long and hard battle, figuratively and literally, you were an adored and respected figure in the North. So much so that you were named Queen. 

When you caught word that Podrick was on the grounds of Winterfell you felt an unexplainable urge to meet with him again. 

You saw him sparring with a man on the training grounds. You watched as this once frail and inexperienced boy fought with honor and precision. It made you feel a tightening in your stomach. You felt yourself losing your trail of thought as you watched him, until he noticed you.

“(Y/N)” He said with wide eyes, and then bam! His sparring opponent knocked him down while he was off guard, “Oof!” He tapped out, “Enough for today.” He hopped off the ground and ran over towards you, smiling, 

You smiled back, “You look different. Well, but different.” 

“You look the same.” He said catching his breath

You narrowed your eyes slightly as you smirked, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” He nodded, “It is.” His smile was almost contagious. 

“Who taught you?” You asked, trying to distract from the compliment. “Brienne of Tarth, I’ve come into her service after Lord Tyrion.”

“An improvement.” You nodded, “You fight well.” 

He bowed his head slightly “Thank you, your Grace.” 

“No need for such formality.” You waved your hand in dismissal, 

“Your Grace-” Someone of little interest to you at that moment spoke. Rushing you off to your regal duties. 

You couldn’t say your goodbyes before being rushed off. Just like last time. 

The rest of the day you spent thinking of him. Of how different things were now, how different you and he were, how much a man he’d grown into. 

It was only until that night when you had the opportunity to speak to him once more.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

As Tyrion, Jaime, and Brienne finished a drinking game, Tormund came in an attempt to court Brienne but of course was unsuccessful. As he faced the rest of the table in a defeated sorrowful look, Podrick smiled at him. 

As the Giant man left the table, Podrick looked back and noticed you. Once he saw you, his smile grew into a bigger and genuine one. 

“Walk with me?” You asked and he of course nodded. Leaving the table in haste, making Tyrion smirk.

The two of you walked around the grounds, that now with everyone in the tavern was empty.

As you walked around, he noticed the very same plum tree that he fell from all those years ago. The tree hadn’t bloomed yet but, he thought back on that memory so often he couldn’t have been mistaken. 

“Last time we were here you were here because you weren’t allowed in the dining hall. Now you own it.” He smiled at you, proud of your accomplishments. 

“And you were in the dirt covered in-” You said teasingly with a mischievous smile.

“Plums.” He said matter of factly

“You remember?” You asked genuinely surprised.

“Of course I do, I remember how you laughed at me.” He said teasingly as he chuckled.

“I apologized!” You giggled, 

“It’s alright, I liked hearing you laugh. And seeing you smile.” He smiled at you in a way that caused a heat to spread throughout your whole body.

“You’ve grown.” You couldn’t believe how much more bold and confident he had become.

“You’ve grown as well.” 

“People tend to do that.” You teased, 

“That’s true, and yet after all that time I couldn’t ever get you out of my head.” He thought about his journey and how often he missed you, “On our journey we always heard murmuring about you. The things you were doing. The wars you and your brother won. The triumphs and lows of it all.” He looked down trying to contain himself, “I thought of you often.”  

You felt a heat rush over your cheeks, “You were always a considerate friend.” You rationalized,  and paused for a moment before you looked over at him, “I thought of you often…” you smiled “As well.” 

“May I ask you something, and truly I don’t mean to offend-”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well this sounds interesting, go on.” You said smiling, 

“What of any… suitors?” He asked awkwardly,

You huffed a laugh and then shook your head, “No.” You looked over at Podrick who was already looking at you with a dumbfounded look, “What?” You giggled. “I apologize, I just find it hard to believe that.” 

“Well I’d not lie.” You smirked, 

“No, of course not. It’s just that you are…” He looked at you, “Mesmerizing.” He studied you for a moment, and then felt content to do what he had been meaning to do for so long, “You’ve always been mesmerizing.” He took your hand,

“What?” Your eyes narrowed as he kneeled in front of you.

“Ever since I saw you, I’ve never been able to release myself from this feeling. The way your hair shines, the way your eyes glow.” He looked up at you, at how beautiful you looked under that plum tree, in the moonlight. “Ever since you kissed me, even though it was just-” He reminisced on the memory for a moment, “A peck on the cheek,” He shook his head, “I couldn’t feel satisfaction from anything else. And what's worse is that- I don’t want to, I don’t want to feel satisfaction from anything but the satisfaction you bring to me. And ever since I have been back here the feeling is so much worse.” His grip on your hand tightened as he searched your eyes for a hint of your own emotions.

You shook your head, “I’m sorry.” You said, not sorry for not feeling the same but for not understanding your own emotions.

“I-” He looked down, confident he was defeated, “Forgive me.” 

“No,” You shook your head again, “Forgive me.” You held his face in your hands,

“For what?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion, and concern that he’d just ruined whatever relationship you two had had for good. 

“For ignoring my own feelings for you.” You held his face closer to your own, “I’ve been doing it for so long…” Your eyes were filled with a pining that you didn’t know you had, “Far too long” He leaned in even further, your eyes drooping slowly but not losing contact with him. Your noses brushing against one another. Your lips finally meet softly, hardly even touching. his hand came to cup your jaw as yours carcassed the back of his head. As you closed your eyes your lips parted slightly allowing him to kiss you deeper. 

nothing had ever felt so right. You knew then that you were born for him and he was born for you. 

♥️

he gripped your waist, pressing you closer to his own body. He walked you back into the tree so he could lean into you even more. 

“Gods” You whimpered into his lips, “You’ve gotten strong-“ your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms over his chainmail. 

“Is this alright,” He asked to which you nodded and continued to kiss his lips. 

The kiss somewhat restrained at first was now unhinged and desperate. His tongue met yours and you did not fight it, no you welcomed it. 

His hand traveled down your jaw to your breast, gripping at it through your bodice with hunger. He groaned into your mouth but soon enough he couldn’t restrain himself and his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, to your breasts. They’d been a weakness of his for too long. “Gods” He groaned

“Tell me to stop and I will,“ His hand traveled up your inner thigh. His fingers, now rougher than they were before, stopped just before they reached your silk small clothes. His eyes looked into yours waiting for your que.

You looked at him, you ran your hand through his hair once more. His eyes met yours, desperate and hungry, no starving. You nodded at him, which made him smile and breathe a sigh of relief as his face returned to your breasts and his fingers began to run up and down the sensitive slit of your clothed cunt.

“Mmphm,” You moaned into his ear as his lips traveled over your cleavage.

His middle finger pressed against your hot damp entrance while his thumb moved in circles around your sensitive clit. 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you whimpered from the pleasure. A pleasure so new. You’d used your own fingers or relieved yourself on a pillow before but this was different, a different game entirely.  

You felt him grinding his arousal on your thigh as he moved your small clothes away, pushing one finger inside of you, slowly. “Ah!” You jolted towards him, grabbing ahold of his back pressing him closer to you. 

He inserted another finger, pressing them deeper and deeper until they met your maiden head. His eyes found yours, and once again you nodded. 

He kissed you deeply as he sunk his fingers into you. You gripped onto his hair and moaned out. As you moaned he bit your bottom lip. You held onto him tighter as the pain flashed across your body but was replaced by pleasure. “Are you alright?” you nodded, unable to find the words when he was pumping him fingers in and out you, “You did so well,” His eyes filled with love and adornment for you. But soon his lips returned to your neck and your breasts.

“Podrick,” You said breathlessly, “Pod?” You had to pull his face away from your breasts, though his lips wants to immediately latch onto yours, “I can’t,” You whined, 

He pulled his fingers out of you and your hand away immediately, 

“Not here,” You shook your head still trying to catch your breath, 

“You’re the Queen, you can do what you please.” He said, half serious, wanting to rid you of your skirts and prove his love and himself there and now. 

You giggled holding his face as he restrained himself for kissing you, “I want you to bed me in my chambers. Not here.” 

“As you wish it, my Queen.” He smiled at you, and kissed you once more before rushing you off to your chambers.

[b-skarsgard]

Bill Skarsgård on Remaking Nosferatu and the Pressure of “F--king With a Masterpiece”

The actor on Pennywise, Count Orlok, and the lure of monstrous characters.

(for those who weren’t able to read the article due to a paywall the full interview is now under the cut)

“I’ve always been a very happy monster.” So said Boris Karloff in 1962, looking back at three decades of creatures, ghouls, and killers that defined so much of his life onscreen. Bill Skarsgård hasn’t been at it nearly as long, but his tendency to play supernatural and terrifying figures suggests that, like his fiendish predecessor, he’s made peace with monstrosity.

The blockbusters It and It: Chapter 2 made him a horror icon as Pennywise the Dancing Clown, carrying on a long tradition in his Swedish acting family—which includes his father, Stellan, and older brothers Alexander and Gustaf—of playing haunting roles in hair-raising films. Since Pennywise, Bill has specialized in sinister, scene-stealing parts, from a high-society sociopath in John Wick: Chapter 4 to his recent turn as the otherworldly avenger of this year’s reboot of The Crow. His latest turn finds him playing the vampiric title character in Nosferatu, from The Witch and The Lighthouse filmmaker Robert Eggers, in a collaboration that brings an ominous new approach to the bat-faced antagonist of the 1922 silent film.

For Vanity Fair’s 2025 Hollywood Issue, he talked about touching the void and more.

Vanity Fair: We spoke years ago when you were about to start filming It, and you talked about the challenges of inhabiting an inhuman monster.

Bill Skarsgård: That was the first time—and wouldn’t be the last time—that I was taking on this kind of iconic character that has been done before so well, and that people love and cherish. The whole journey of that was so weird. If I spoke to you after the production, I would’ve been much more confident that we had something that was very special, but in the process of it, I was just like, Why did he cast me? I can’t do this.

We did speak again afterward. You talked about going home to your parents’ house after you finished shooting and being plagued by dreams about the character.

Those dreams were so strange. Either I was confronting Pennywise and I was upset with him, yelling at him—or I was Pennywise, but I was walking around in the streets that I grew up on, and I’m like, No, no. I shouldn’t be out here in public walking around like this. This is not how it’s supposed to be done. It was this weird thing where I was trying to separate myself from this thing, literally back in the place that I grew up in, in the same apartment that I grew up in.

Count Orlok in Nosferatu also emerges from a deep, dark place. What was it like for you to take that particular emotional ice bath?

Count Orlok was very different than Pennywise in a lot of ways. Orlok was even further away from who I am than Pennywise was, in the sense that my voice, posture, age, the look of it, it was just so far out there. That became the challenge. Before putting on the prosthetics, we explored so many weird things and looked into butoh, this sort of Japanese corpse dancing. We explored so many trippy things.

Did you say “corpse dancing”?

Yeah, butoh is this Japanese corpse dance. It’s all these, kind of, mummified movement patterns. It’s spectacular. It brought this much more precise and much more rigid and slow movement. Basically the outfit and the prosthetics helped so much. The voice was what I worked the hardest on. I worked with an opera singer—she tried to get it as low as possible. My brother Gustaf came to set when we were shooting. He’s sitting there and he gets the headphones on and he hears [deep growling sounds] and is like, “What the fuck is going on?” It must have seemed very insane.

Since you come from an acting family, I wondered what role your dad and your brothers play in your decision-making process or in your professional life.

I don’t talk to them in the sense of like, “Hey, do you think I should do this thing or that thing?” Of course, subconsciously, they’re such a big part of my life. It’s hard to quantify how much effect they’ve had in terms of my taste or in terms of performances. It’s great to have their support, more so in life in general than acting itself. It’s nice to be able to talk to your family, just going, like, “Oh, this shoot was a nightmare because of this and this and this.” And they’re like, “Oh yeah, totally. Tell me about it.” The job, the profession of acting, can feel kind of lonely sometimes. It just feels nice to have so many people, close people, around you that truly know what it’s like.

Especially after Nosferatu, people are going to look at your work and see a lot of monsters and a lot of dark figures. Why do you think you’ve been drawn to these characters?

I think those characters are drawn to me as much as I’m drawn to them. It’s a mutual kind of attraction. The fact that they’re drawn towards me is a bunch of different reasons, everything from the way you look, you have a sensibility, there’s a darkness about you, or there’s an intensity.

And it’s something you enjoy too?

Even going back to some of the earlier stuff I did in Sweden, transformation has always been very appealing to me—and playing characters that are very different than me. I played a character that was autistic when I was 19, and I loved it. I had so much joy in it. He’s not a dark character, he’s a very sweet character. But you study, and you change your voice. With Pennywise, that became my ultimate transformation. I just really enjoyed it. Now with Orlok, I really enjoy transforming as much as I humanly can. I think that’s very exciting.

Do you feel a curiosity about the more dangerous side of human nature?

The darker characters also tend to be more complex. More mental gymnastics are needed. Again, with Orlok, it’s like, Okay, if it’s an ancient sorcerer that speaks from a different realm and possesses all of this power and knowledge, what makes power and knowledge ultimately corrupt a soul as opposed to creating a messiah?

Do you ever worry about getting typecast?

I definitely don’t want to exclusively play those kind of roles, but I’ve never seen the appeal of the classic star, a movie star. The difference between a movie star and an actor is that a movie star plays himself in every part, in a way. Whereas as an actor transforms. There are people that play themselves, and they’re brilliant every single time, but it’s the same thing and they have that shtick. For me, I just don’t think that I’m that charismatic or interesting, so I can’t just lean on that. I need to transform as far away from me as possible.

Do you feel a kinship with actors from the past, like, say, Lon Chaney or Boris Karloff, who played dark beings and often transformed their regular appearances?

It’s a great question. Yeah, I do. But that being said, it was never my particular goal to be the “creature actor,” if you will. There are so many [actors] I draw inspiration from. A lot of other actors that are not known for their intense transformations are some of my favorites as well. I haven’t really studied the greats of prosthetics or creature performances in that way. I’ve watched a lot of it, but I don’t watch performances for inspiration per se, because there’s always this thing of emulation that I don’t want to go down. For Orlok, predatory animals felt like a cleaner source of inspiration.

You mentioned earlier that, several times now, you’ve played a character that is well-known from a previous iteration, but you did it in a new and different way. Did you feel that again with Nosferatu?

Orlok is also Dracula. To me, in terms of iconic horror characters, the number one is Dracula/Nosferatu. It’s the most seminal work of literature in gothic horror for sure. I think it’s been adapted more than probably any other book. This story is so ingrained in our subconscious that it was very daunting to step into it. I was a huge fan of [Robert] Eggers before. He and I would have these things we’re like, “What are we doing? Why are we doing Nosferatu? Are we taking on something too big here?” We felt that kind of pressure of fucking with a masterpiece. But the movie deserves its place as a new interpretation.

What’s on the horizon for you next?

I’ve always cherished the idea of being as versatile as I possibly can. I also want to do a kitchen-sink drama, I want to do a dark, fucked-up comedy. I want to make those choices or advocate for those choices. You have to fight against being typecast or put into a box. The more you fight against it, the bigger the box tends to get.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute, Chapter 4 - Law

Source for the pic

Word Count: 4487 (these just keep getting bigger!)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

Notes: I'm really sorry if I messed up some medical expressions. I tried to Google everything first!

| Chapter 3 - Zoro | |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Law:

Your dad's grunts and wails have been increasing both in volume and in intensity, so you let out a long breath of relief as you finally park the truck at the clinic’s - thankfully almost empty - parking space. 

“Hey, dad” you say softly as your heart clenches at the sight of your father’s sweaty face and scrunched up brows. “I'm going to grab you a wheelchair and some help, okay?”

You take his grunt as a positive answer and run inside the clinic, only noticing your dishevelled state as you catch sight of your reflection in the glass doors: your white top is not white anymore and there's a tear at the bottom; your shorts have dirt and oil all over them; you don't even want to get started on your knees and legs, which are bruised and scraped from kneeling on the dirt; and your once perfectly braided hair is no longer perfect and it is barely braided. 

You sigh as you enter the clinic and wince in pain as you step your foot wrong. You definitely sprained it when you were with Zoro. 

You drag yourself to the front desk and the blonde girl gasps as she looks at your state. “Oh, my!” She gets up hastily and goes around the desk to reach you. “Are you all right?”

You nod frantically. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I-... Kaya?”

The girl looks at you with a furrowed brow but it doesn't take her more than five seconds before her mouth turns into an ‘o’ and she exclaims your name happily. “You're back! It's been ages!”

You laugh and nod. “Yes, we should catch up. After we get my father inside. He hurt his back and-...”

“Again?” You swear this time your ears start fuming. This has happened more than once and this doctor keeps sending him home? Oh, he is going to get a piece of your mind. “Shachi, Penguin, can you be darlings and bring Mr. S. inside? He's had another incident.”

You cross your arms against your chest and frown as you watch two men go outside with a wheelchair to bring your father inside. 

“They'll take him to Dr. Trafalgar. How about you, sweetie, are you alright? You don't seem well.” Kaya was your friend from kindergarten to half of the middle school, until she went home to be home-schooled. You lost touch with her even before you left town, but she has always been such a nice friend that you actually find yourself sharing a soft smile with the blonde. 

“I've had a few mishaps with the car before getting here.” You sigh. “I'll go freshen up in the bathroom and then I'll meet my dad. Is that alright?”

She nods and points you to the ladies’ room. You stand in front of the mirror and, as you're passing your fingers through your hair, trying - and failing - to detangle its knots, you realise you should eat something. You discarded breakfast on account of that stupid asshole and his selfies, and you and your father didn't have a chance to eat lunch. 

But first, you let out a deep sigh at your appearance, you should try to make yourself presentable. You don't want to chew the doctor's ears out looking like a hobo. 

Washing up as best as you can, massaging your sprained ankle, and redoing your braid - there's nothing to be done about the state of your clothes - you deem yourself somewhat presentable and, as you leave the bathroom, you see your father being wheeled to a room so you follow him quickly. 

“Daddy!”

“Buuuuuug! The doc gave me the good stuff!” He slurs and guffaws, opening his arm and almost throwing himself off the chair to hug you. Then he turns his voice into a whisper. “He stabbed a needle in ma butt!” Shanks uses his hand to hide his cheeky laugh before he continues. “Imma stay here for a while because they'll put some more drugs in my arm. And then we can go.”

What? IV and an injection? That's the whole treatment? No. Not on your watch. 

“Yeah, that's good dad, rest.” You smile at him and then turn to the man with the brown hair who is wheeling him. “Hey, where's the doctor's office? I need to speak with him.”

“Er… I… Hum… Dr. Trafalgar doesn't like unannounced visitors…” He stutters but you silence him with an angry look. “But if you must know, it's that door.” He then chuckles nervously and wheels Shanks to a room. 

You take a deep breath and stomp towards the office the attendant pointed out to you. After one step, you stop stomping because your ankle hurts too much, but you still make it to your destination. You knock lightly on the door, because you're not a savage, but start to tap your foot on the floor when you don't get an immediate answer. 

As you raise your fist for a second round of angrier knocks, you hear a deep ‘come in’ from inside the office and you open the door, wearing a frown. 

Which is quickly turned into a stunned expression because you didn't quite know what to expect from the doctor you've been hearing about, but this was not it. 

He's hot. 

There's no other way to describe the man in front of you. His black hair is tousled to perfection and you have to swallow a lump when he fixes his amber gaze upon your own. The frown and the furrowed brows only add to his allure, as you notice the tattooed forearms and knuckles. What an interesting choice of tattoos for a doctor, you can't help but think. 

They spell DEATH. 

The rest of his arms are covered by his white coat but you can't help but wonder if he has more ink on them. But that wondering soon stops, because he's already asked you twice about what you need and you have been transfixed in the same spot, drooling at him. 

“Right, hi! My father. Shanks! He was just here.” You exclaim as if that explains everything. 

“Yes, I know. I'm his doctor.”

He stares at you. “Oh, it’s my turn.” You stumble with your words and, is that an amused smirk in the stoic doctor’s face? Couldn't be, since it disappeared as soon as it appeared. “What is wrong with him? I keep hearing that he needs to come to the clinic more than once a week because of his back. That's not normal.” You seem to regain your cool and remember that you are there to get some answers from this man. 

He leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit but you're too wound up to stay still, so you decline and start pacing the office. You're having a hard time breathing, so you start to fan yourself with your hand. 

“You're right, it's not.”

“What is it, then?”

His fingers entwine with one another as his gaze follows your form. You're limping, fanning both of your hands now, and you look like shit. You must be quite a spectacle.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Are you kidding me?” Does your voice usually sound so far away? Because everything seems super bright and all the sounds are blending together. You stop and grip the back of the chair tightly, your knuckles turning white from the strength. 

“I'm not. Your father is sane and, other than his back, of good health. I have discussed treatment plans with him. He knows what he has and he knows what he needs to do in order to recover. To you, I can't say anything without his explicit permission.” You see him tense up as he stares at you and your behaviour. His brows furrow further as he turns his body to the side, as if he's about to get up. 

“But I'm his daughter!” You let out a ridiculous whine and start to gasp for air. 

“And I'm his doctor.” He gets up and approaches you. “Sit. You're so pale I can almost see through you. When was the last time you ate and-...”

That's the last thing you remember before waking up in a bed next to your father. 

-*-

You blink as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and take shallow breaths. Your head is throbbing and the constant beeping noise from the machine is not helping you at all. You realise that the beeping machine is hooked to you through your finger, as well as an IV attached to your arm. 

You raise your torso with a grunt and see that the cuts and bruises on your legs have been tended to, and your ankle is now sporting a not-so-fashionable elastic bandage with a pack of ice sitting on it. 

“Bug! You’re up!” Your dad flails his arm in the bed next to you to get you to look at him. “Law! Kaya! Someone!”

Pressing your thumb and index finger against the bridge of your nose, you sigh deeply. “Dad, dad, there’s a button to call the nurse next to the bed, please don’t scream.”

But it’s not necessary to use the button because Kaya enters the room with a concerned smile and gravitates towards you. “Sweetie, how are you?” Her voice is so gentle and kind that it forces an immediate smile from your lips. 

“My head is killing me. What happened?”

“Well, Dr. Trafalgar said it’s probably hypoglycemia - low blood sugar - he had some blood tests done, the results should be in at any moment. Have you eaten anything today?”

You nod and are about to say yes, of course, but the words don’t leave your mouth because they are not true. You really haven’t eaten anything today. “No.”

“Then, that’s definitely it.” Kaya giggles. “I could hear you yelling at Dr. Trafalgar from where I was sitting. He looked kind of flustered when he opened the office door, carrying you in his arms.”

You blush as your eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, you were unconscious, so he carried you to the examination room.” She giggles again and lowers her voice so your father doesn’t hear the rest. “Sweetie, you two looked straight out of a romantic movie. He was carrying you bridal style with a look of concern and you looked rather frail all curled up against his strong frame.”

You keep feeling your face getting hotter as the beep from the machine next to you grows louder and faster. Kaya has always loved romantic movies, so it’s no wonder she would think something silly like this. For all you know, Dr. Trafalgar was dangling you by one arm and you banged your head on all the thresholds before reaching this room.

It would explain the throbbing headache. 

“Nurse Kaya, I do hope you’re questioning the patient about medical history and the possible cause of this incident and not engaging in idle gossiping?”

You gasp alongside Kaya as Dr. Trafalgar approaches you both, a scowl on his face and his brows scrunched. How is his forehead not permanently wrinkled from all the pouts and frowns?

“No, I was just gossiping. I’m sorry.” Kaya giggles as you gasp at her truthful response. Is she allowed to speak like this with her superior? His stare at Kaya is so intense that, after a moment, she excuses herself and leaves you two alone with your father on the other bed, seemingly distracted by a soap opera on TV, until he spots the doctor next to you.

“Oh, Law! How is my baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that, dad.” You whisper between clenched teeth. Law? Is that the doctor’s first name?

“I’m going to examine her now, Mr. S. You can watch your show.” Shanks mouths a droopy ‘okay’ and turns back to the TV. He is still pretty high on drugs, apparently. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” His amber eyes stare at yours and you feel compelled to look at his name tag, instead, but then you are staring at his chest, and is that more ink coming out from the neck of the shirt he is wearing? Does he have a chest piece?

The beeping becomes faster and you switch back to the piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t.” You say, trying to distract yourself. 

“It’s certainly hypoglycemia, then. I will observe you.”

You nod and he removes the stethoscope from his neck, pushing it against your exposed cleavage. “Breathe in.” You take a deep breath. “Now out.” You do. He takes a step forward and tells you to lean forward as he repeats the process on your back. “In. Out.” 

He reaches for a small pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and points it at your eyes. “Look up. Down. Now the other one, up. Down. Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s it? Aren't you going to say I'm a good girl?” You giggle for a second and then stop abruptly. Suddenly mortified as his eyes pierce into your own with an unreadable expression. “I'm sorry. That was stupid. Are there drugs here?” You point to the IV and as his stare doesn't waver, the beeping on the machine just keeps getting faster and louder. 

“That's just a dextrose and saline solution. No drugs. That was all you.”

The machine just beeps louder and louder and you grunt as you rip the monitor off of your finger, rendering the beeping into a continuous, even more annoying, beep.

“Stupid thing! I think that might be broken.” You snort, wail and hide your face in your hands. Can you be an even bigger idiot? Why are you acting like this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at this doctor on account of your father? Where has all of your bravado gone? 

Out the window when you passed out and were carried like a princess by her knight in shining armour. As well as all your sane thoughts on feminism and women’s rights, apparently.

Crap. 

“Are you done?” He asks, deadpan as he turns off the monitor and the beeping stops. Now you’re frustrated again, but you simply pout and nod without making eye contact. 

He flips through some files and hums softly. “Your blood tests came out normal. This was a simple incident of low blood-sugar, next time try not to stay too long without eating anything, or, at least, if you’re going to fast, drink plenty of liquids, tea or water, preferably.”

“I wasn’t fasting.” You mumble between clenched teeth, your eyes locked on the chipped nail polish that had come out when you ripped the monitor that was attached to your finger. 

“Whatever weird diet you are on, then. Stop it. You look extremely healthy, you don’t need it.” Could that have been a veiled compliment?

“M’not on a diet.” Your mumble is even quieter.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not on any diet, or fasting, or anything. I just didn’t eat, that’s all.” This time you speak loud and cross your arms over your chest for emphasis.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, bug? Is this still because of that jackass fiancé that cheated on you?” Shanks is literally screaming so you know that, by now, the entire clinic knows you’ve been cheated on. Yet you simply inhale, use the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear and nod.

“I'm going to kill him.” Shanks simply declares as he tries to get up from the bed. “Law, help me kill him.”

You glimpse that amused smirk on the corner of his lips as he watches your father struggling with the bed covers. 

“I would really like to be your partner in crime, Mr. S. But, you see, I took an oath.”

That statement makes you giggle and he turns his gaze back at you, smirk still in place, and your heart does a weird thing that makes you catch your breath. 

“Shove that oath up your-... Ouch, dammit!” Shanks’ legs get tangled in the sheets and he almost falls as he tries to get up. 

“Mr. S. please calm down. We're not killing anyone today okay?” Dr. Trafalgar turns to you. “He seems pretty determined, maybe you should distract him with something less illegal?”

Is he funny as well? He seems so stoic and uptight but he's responding to your father's shenanigans with a dark humour that's making you laugh. 

“Daddy, lie back down on the bed, we will schedule another day to kill him, I promise.” You use your commanding tone and your father grunts before settling back down again. “Besides, since it's the three of us together, I would like to ask you, Shanks, what's the treatment that Dr. Trafalgar recommended for your back because the Dr. doesn't want to share that information with me.”

Your lips turn thin as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“That's a good lad, Law. Thank you.”

You glare at both of them but Dr. Trafalgar just raises his arms defensively. “Doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Dad!” You huff at the same time as your father groans loudly.

“Just tell her, Law. Or I'll never hear the end of it. And I still have a murder to commit.” He mumbles. 

You turn your attention back to the doctor and try your best not to give him your ‘see you could've told me earlier and we would've avoided this whole situation’ look, but you definitely give him one of those. 

“Your father has a herniated disc in his spine. This occurs when the soft inner core of a disc between the vertebrae protrudes through the tough outer layer, putting pressure on nearby nerves.” 

Your brows tighten at all the medical jargon but you're understanding the essentials, so you nod for him to continue. 

“Mr. S. experiences stabbing pain that radiates along the path of the affected nerve and can lead to episodes of intense pain and sometimes a feeling of weakness or numbness in the affected area. Activities that cause strain on the spine can make it worse. Something like bending down or lifting stuff.”

You turn to your father with a glare in your gaze, your frown heavy and your eyes watery. “I told you you should rest!” Your words are but a sliver that escapes your lips. Dr. Trafalgar continues.

“When the medication hasn't provided enough relief, as it's your father’s case, surgery may be recommended. The procedure typically involves removing the herniated portion of the disc to relieve pressure on the nerves and alleviate symptoms.”

The silence stretches and evolves into a thick fog that encapsulates the three of you within. Your next words are measured carefully, but need to be asked. “Is it a complicated procedure?”

Of course it is! It's on the spine! 

“Each case is unique on its own. The complexity can vary based on factors such as the location and size of the herniation, as well as your father's overall health.”

“And the risks?” Your gaze alternates between the doctor’s professional stance and your father's slumped and defeated form.

“Like any surgery there are inherent risks of infections or allergic reactions. Specifically to this surgery, there's always the chance of the symptoms remaining or that another surgery might be necessary. There's also a more severe risk of nerve damage, which can cause temporary numbness or weakness. Yet, in this case, I would argue that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“Dad…” You start. 

“I don't want to discuss this right now.” He discards the use of your nickname and calls you by your birth name, declaring his seriousness of the matter. 

Your lower lip trembles and you nod at him letting out a very soft ‘okay’. Suddenly, realisation hits you. This was probably the reason why he had the horse riding incident. It was the cause not the consequence. 

Dr. Trafalgar places a very gentle hand over yours and you gasp at the shock of his touch. “I will send nurse Kaya to remove your IV and your father's so you can both be on your way and discuss this properly.” You nod. “If you have any questions, you can always call me or visit the clinic.” You nod again, suddenly exhausted as your body starts to complain of all the abuse it suffered today. 

He leaves calling out a ‘take care, Mr. S.’ to your father at the door. Silence permeates the room as you turn and let your feet dangle from the bed, your eyes focusing on the lying form of Shanks. 

“Dad,” you start. “I know you don't want to talk about this, and I will respect your wishes, but just hear my opinion, you don't have to say anything!” You add and your father takes a deep breath but doesn't say anything so you take that as consent for you to continue. “You're young and very active. These episodes keep you from living a normal, fulfilling life. Dr. Trafalgar said that the benefits are far more than the risks and I think you should consider the surgery.”

The door opens up and Kaya comes in with a bright hello and a smile. “Think about it, dad.” You finish as Kaya stands at your side with a tray of equipment to relieve you of all the paraphernalia attached to your body. 

“So, how are we feeling?” She asks you as she swiftly disconnects the empty IV from your arm. 

You sigh and give her a lopsided smile. “I'm feeling better, Kaya, thank you.”

“Aaaaaand?” She giggles at you and your brows scrunch at her. “Dr. Trafalgar?”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, even if you will them not to. “He's very competent. He explained to me everything about my father's condition. He's very professional. I'm impressed.” As you admit this, you realise that maybe you should apologise to him for your earlier behaviour but maybe he's with another patient now. 

“That's not where I was going.” She pouts at you. “He's single, you know?”

You wince as she takes out the needle in your vein and puts a bandaid over it. “That's… okay, I guess.” You don't really know what to say. Kaya seems to be trying to set you up, but you really don't want to think about men at this moment. 

“You're impossible!” She mutters your name as she shakes her head and removes the melted ice pack from your ankle. “There, you're done. I'll take care of your father and you both can leave.”

-*-

Penguin and Shachi insisted on taking your father to the car themselves and you were at the desk with Kaya, settling the payment and documents. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally. The news about Shanks had left you preoccupied and you were having trouble processing. 

As Kaya finished inserting some data on the computer, you sighed deeply and pressed the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb, closing your eyes and trying to suppress the growing throb in your head. 

Suddenly, you feel a presence on your side as a deep voice fills the air. “Are you feeling well?”

Opening your eyes and forcing a weary smile on your lips you slightly nod. “Just the culmination of all the exciting events of today, I guess. A throbbing headache.” You shrug. 

Dr. Trafalgar takes out a set of keys from his pocket and goes behind Kaya opening one of the cabinets and taking out two pills from one container. Then he goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. 

“Give me your hand.” You open your palm as he sets the pills there, lightly brushing his long fingers against your skin. “Take them. It will relieve the pressure on your head.” You set the pills in your mouth. “Water.” He hands the cup to you and you drink it. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out a wrapped onigiri. “Then eat this.” You reply with a meek ‘okay’. “Good girl.”

He smirks and you nearly choke to death on another sip of water. Then you burst out laughing and you notice that the smirk is still adorning his lips. Surprisingly, he laughs along with you and you are forced to admit that the way his deep voice slurred with the words ‘good girl’ made your knees buckle and your body tingle in very unholy places. 

“I'm sorry.” You start, as soon as the laughter dies down. “For overreacting earlier.”

“It's alright. I will blame your reaction on your abnormal state.” He says cheekily and you smirk back at him. 

“By the way, do you carry all your fainting patients in bridal style?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Just the cute ones.” The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and you're left speechless. Where had the stoic doctor gone? There seemed to be a cheeky flirt in his stead, did he have a twin?

“Thank you, Dr. Trafalgar, for everything.” You decide to finish the conversation there since you're liking it way too much, which can turn very dangerous. 

He nods. “It's Law.” You raise your brow at him. “My name, call me Law.”

“Law. Thanks.” His smirk turns into a slight smile that traps your gaze as you breathe slowly. Single, right? How? 

Kaya’s soft harumph seems to wake you both from your trance and Law excuses himself with work he has to do. “Don't be a stranger.” He adds and then wishes you and your father well before leaving. You sigh as you turn to Kaya, who's watching you with a knowing look and a very silly smile. 

“This was rom/com happening in real life, I swear. Girl, I'm dying here. You need to go on a date with him!” She squeals. “I don't think I've ever heard him laugh!”

“I'm not going on any date, Kaya.” You say, deadpan as you accept the receipts she hands you. “I'm off men at the moment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah we all heard your father. Sorry about your fiancé thing… Though maybe it was better to find out before the wedding actually happened!”

You nod. You couldn't agree more, actually. “I'm going to go now. Dad and I both need rest.”

You and Kaya exchange phone numbers, not wanting to fall out of touch with her, and wave goodbye. The exhaustion is taking its toll on you and you still have to try and convince your father to agree to the surgery. Maybe you'll leave that fight to another day, though. 

As you walk to the truck you unwrap the onigiri and take a small bite. It tastes homemade. Delicious. 

As scrumptious as Dr. Trafalgar Law, actually. 

No, nope. Not gonna happen. You shake your head as you take your seat ready to face the challenge of driving with a stick yet again. And somehow, between driving with a stick and trying to avoid thinking about Dr. Law, the first one seems like an easier challenge.

[seiya-starsniper]

"Oh I'm dreaming of you again. If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you."

*slides $5 across the table* dreamling. you know what must be done.

Ayyyy I FINALLY got around to doing this one! 😅😅 Starting my birthday off right with a present for you! 💖💖

[AO3 Link Here]

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When war comes to the Endless Empire, Ser Robert Gadling, known simply as Hob to his men, is on the front lines of the defense effort, fighting for his monarch and the love of his life. The second title is a secret he keeps close to his breast, for there are no scenarios in which a Knight would be deemed the type of lover fit for a King. 

The war is long and brutal. The Morningstar Kingdom had timed their invasion well, choosing to strike in the heat of summer, ideal conditions for soldiers who were born and raised in lands far hotter and more unforgiving than Hob had ever known. Their forces are fierce, but Hob’s are fiercer, for they have something to protect, mothers and wives, sons and daughters.

Hob only has his King. Orphaned at a young age, Hob was recruited as a foot soldier into the royal army as soon as he was of age, and his quick thinking and heroics on the battlefield earned him a coveted place in the royal court, right as the Endless family had established themselves as monarchs of the realm. 

Try as he did to be polite, Hob did not fit easily into a life of court politics. He could not hide his brusque mannerisms, his frank manner of speech, and it was that attitude that endeared him to King Morpheus years ago, establishing a unique friendship most other nobles would sneer at.

Hob never cared for noble opinions before King Morpheus, and to this day he still did not. It is his king’s face that he sees in his mind’s eye as he cuts down the Morningstar’s soldiers, pushing their forces further back. It is his king’s voice that rings in his ears as he and his men march through the pouring rain, caked in mud, blood, and sweat. It is his king’s eyes that Hob sees in the moments after an arrow pierces through his armor, knocking him off his horse and rendering him unconscious.

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When King Morpheus receives word that the battalion Hob was leading had fallen in battle with no known survivors, he nods solemnly and dismisses the messenger, along with the rest of his court to give those who had lost a son, brother, or lover, time to mourn.

What his court does not know, however, is that once the throne room is empty, Morpheus collapses to the floor and weeps. He weeps for his fallen people, for the lives that this pointless war has cost his kingdom, but in particular he weeps for Robert—no, Hob Gadling, his oldest and most treasured friend.

Hob had been one of the only members of Morpheus’s court that did not treat him like the outsider he was when he was appointed king. When the Endless came to power, they divided the small municipalities into their own kingdoms, placing each of their seven children as the reigning monarch. Dream had suffered many cutting remarks and passive aggressive attacks, but Hob had been open and honest with him, even if their relationship did not start off in the most positive manner.

To know now that Morpheus would no longer hear Hob’s laugh, would never again be able to break bread and share stories over a warm open fire with him, that he would never feel the warm touch of the other man’s hand upon his shoulder, was more than the king could bear. He retires early to his bed, and spends the next days alone in bedchambers, claiming a sudden illness, but in truth, he is mourning for what could have been, what he was too cowardly to reach for, what he could have had, if only he’d been brave enough to confess how he felt.

And now, it was too late. 

-----------------------------------------------

When Hob finally escapes his imprisonment behind enemy lines, he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake, including the head of the Morningstar King. He steals a horse and rides away into the night, desperate to return to his men and tell them that everything is over. The war is over. The Morningstar and their warriors will trouble them no longer.  

When he comes across the nearest army camp flying the Endless flag, he heads immediately for the general’s tent. But instead of finding his second-in-command, he finds King Morpheus there, sprawled across what was once Hob’s bedroll, a cup of some unknown liquid in his hand. When he sees Hob enter, he freezes and drops the cup immediately, and the smell of cheap liquor fills the air between them.

“Oh,” King Morpheus whispers in a broken tone that absolutely breaks Hob’s heart. “I'm dreaming of you again.” As Hob steps further into the tent, he can see the king’s brilliant blue eyes are stained red from crying, and his cheeks too are covered in tear tracks that criss-cross along his face. It is breathtaking and beautiful, agonizing and unbearable, all at once.

“I am no dream,” Hob says softly as he approaches his king. Had he put those tears on his lord’s face? Had Morpheus thought him dead the entire time he’d been imprisoned?

“Oh but you are, for why else would a dead man stand before me and haunt my grieving heart so?” Morpheus replies, his breath hitching now as his body threatens to start sobbing anew. “Why else would I see you, if not as a reminder for every unspoken word, every regret I hold for not confessing to you you my deepest desires?"

Now it is Hob’s turn to gasp, his heart beating wildly in his breast. Surely there was no way that Morpheus was alluding to sharing the same desires as Hob. But then, why else would his king be here, in Hob’s tent, laying amongst Hob’s things, acting as a grieving widow, if he didn’t not feel like one himself? 

Hob takes another step closer, and though Morpheus startles, he does not flinch back from him. Hob then kneels down in front of his king so that they are eye to eye, and steels his nerves for what he plans to say next. 

“What would tell me, my liege, were you not caught in the thrall of a dream?” Hob asks. “What words do you hold in your heart that you could tell me before?”

Morpheus chuckles, and it sounds like shattered glass. 

“If I were not dreaming?” he asks. “If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you, Robert Gadling.”

Hob he gives up all semblance of self control and brings his hands to his king’s face. Morpheus gasps at the touch and Hob wants to kiss him, wants to pull this beautiful, wonderful man into his arms and never let him go.

“You’re—” Morpheus breathes, his eyes filled with tears once more. “You’re alive.”

Hob nods. “It is not a dream,” he says. “Touch me, and feel that I am real.”

Morpheus lunges towards him and seals their lips together in a kiss. Hob kisses him back, uncaring of the fact that any random soldier could walk in at any moment. All that matters to him now is that he and Morpheus are reunited, that he is alive, and in love with someone who loves him back. That is all that matters, for tonight.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 3

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Physical Violence, mention of Domestic Abuse, Language, little bit of spice

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

This chapter got a bit long….sorry. This chapter is a bit of a roller coaster, hold on. I promise it’s worth it, and please don’t come at me for things between the reader and Jensen. Things happen in life at different times. 

Minors DNI 18+

I smiled back, but as soon as he opened the door my smile was replaced by a look of horror. Jensen turned to look at the person at the door as I said, “Robert.”

Jensen’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, baby, I’ve missed you.” Jensen stepped, blocking Robert from seeing me.

“Who the hell are you, pretty boy?” Robert snarled. “The man who is going to tell you one time to get the fuck off this porch before I make you leave.” Jensen’s voice was stern and booming.

Robert scoffed, “I came to see my girlfriend, you need to step aside.” “She’s NOT your girlfriend, she broke up with you then you came back and beat her up.” Robert was trying to talk over Jensen’s shoulder, “Baby, please. I’m sorry. You know how I can get. You upset me when you told me to leave. I can’t live without you, please.”

A fury filled my body and I stood. I stepped behind Jensen, and softly touched his back, “It’s okay Jensen.” Jensen’s jaw was still tight but he stepped to my side. 

“Robert, I’m going to tell you one last time. This, us, we’re done. You put your hands on me, I ended up in the hospital from the beating you gave me. You don’t love me, and I’m not sure you’re even capable of it. Get off my property and don’t ever come back around me or my daughter.” 

“You bitch! I gave you 6 months of my life, put up with you and your whiny ass daughter.” Robert lunged for me and Jensen stepped in between the two of us. He grabbed his hand and twisted it behind his back. “Y/N, call the police.” Jensen said over his shoulder.

I grabbed my phone and called the police. The dispatcher told me they would be there in a few minutes. “Jensen, they will be here soon.” I said after I hung up. 

Jensen looked at me, “Thank you sweetheart.” It was a term of endearment I’d heard him say a few times, only this time he said it in front of Robert, which pissed him off. 

“Oh I see, you broke up with me to be with pretty boy here. So how many times has she opened her legs for you? I could barely get her to go down on me, let alone fuck me.” Jensen was furious and without thinking he punched Robert in the face, then grabbed his chin tightly.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that again. You have no idea what she’s been through. What YOU put her and her daughter through. You don’t get to think about her again. You hear me! You even utter her name and I’ll kick your ass. I’d gladly go to jail for her, for Jazzy.” 

My breath hitched. Nobody had ever defended me like Jensen was. My heart fluttered in my chest. I touched Jensen’s arm, “Jensen, it’s okay. Please don’t do this. He’s not worth it, I’m not worth it. Think about your children, your career. Jensen’s gaze turned toward me, “Y/N you’re worth so much. You’re an amazing mother, a kind person, and so damn beautiful. I’d gladly go to jail for you. Trust me, there is a lot more I’d like to do to him.” 

My hand still on Jensen’s arm, “Please, let him go. Look, the police are here.” Jensen’s eyes turned toward the driveway as a police cruiser pulled up. 

He let his hand drop and the deputy put Robert in cuffs. “I want to press charges against him. He punched me.” Robert yelled as the deputy escorted him to the car.

Jensen approached another officer. “Jensen, how are you?” The man asked. Jensen extended his hand, “I’m good, look man. I did punch him, but he was going for her and there’s no way in hell I was going to stand by and let him put his hands on her again.” “Sounds like you were protecting yourself and her. He has a history of attacking her, and he has a warrant out. Plus I didn’t see it, and I’m not taking his word.”

He smiled at Jensen, and then over at me. He whispered something to Jensen and then Jensen looked at me and smiled. The officer tipped his hat at me and walked away. “So do you know everyone here?” I asked Jensen as the officer walked away. “Oh, kinda. I grew up with Tom. We used to get into trouble growing up.” Jensen laughed. 

I stepped closer to Jensen and placed my hand in his, “Thank you, Jensen. For everything you’ve done for Jazzy and me. I can’t begin to repay you.”

He gently took my face in his hands and held my gaze, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to repay me for anything. We protect the ones we care about. Now come on, let’s go get the kids from school and have a sleepover at my place.” I smiled, “I’m sure the kids will love just one more night together. I’ll go get some things together, and Jensen, thank you.” I placed a soft kiss on his lips as I turned to walk towards my room. 

Jensen’s heart leaped in his chest and he felt a twinge of sadness replaying my words, “just one more night together” he didn’t want just one more night, he wanted the rest of your nights. It scared him, but he was falling in love with you. Jensen knew it was fast, but the need to protect you, give you the love you deserve was overwhelming, and he adored Jazzy. 

I came back to the living room with an overnight bag. “Ready to go home?” Jensen asked. I smiled when he said “home”. “Yeah, let’s go get the kiddos and go home.” 

Jensen took the bag from me and took my hand. My heart fluttered and I felt warmth through my body. Was it possible I was falling in love with him? I swallowed hard and looked at him as he took my hand in his. 

Our fingers interlocked and he held tightly. Jensen smiled at me as we walked to his car. He opened the door for me and I climbed in. Jensen walked around and put my stuff in the trunk then slid in the driver's seat. 

He grabbed my hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. I smiled at him and took a deep breath. Oh I knew I was in trouble. I definitely was falling in love with him. 

We pulled up at the school and Jensen got out. Walking into the school Jensen placed his hand on the small of my back. Looking up at him he smiled, “Is this okay?” I nodded, “Yes, more than okay Jensen.” 

I waited anxiously with Jensen by my side for the kids to come up to the office. I heard Jazzy and Zeppelin giggling before I saw them. 

When Jazzy turned the corner and saw me she ran with her arms open wide. “Mommy!! You’re back. I missed you so much!” I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms tightly. I kissed her and told her how much I missed her. 

I noticed Zeppelin and Arrow standing to the side looking a little sad. I opened my arms and motioned for them to come to me and they leaped in my arms too. 

Jensen’s heart leaped. In that moment he saw the love you had for his children just pouring into the tight embrace you held the three children in. 

How could something so new, feel so incredibly perfect and easy? There was no way he could let you go, he only hoped you felt the same way. 

About 15 minutes later JJ was picked up and the six of you were headed to Jensen’s house. The kids talking and giggling in the backseat, Jensen and I stealing glances at each other. 

Something about this felt right, normal. Like it was meant to be. I looked out the window of the car and a tear slipped out. A wave of guilt washed over me. I missed Josh, I missed the life we shared and mourned the future we lost. How would he feel about Jensen? How would he feel about me falling for someone so quickly?

Jensen’s eyes were drifting from the road to me. He noticed my posture change and he caught a glimmer of a tear. Jensen wasn’t sure if he should reach out to me or not. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the four children in the backseat. This moment, with the kids in the backseat and me by his side, felt right. His mind drifted to his late wife. A pang of guilt washed over him. How would she feel if she knew he was falling in love again? Would she be upset, or encourage it? He knew he needed to talk to Jared to help sort out his feelings. 

Arriving at Jensen’s house the kids jumped out and ran inside. Jensen grabbed my bag and helped me inside. “Let me show you where the guestroom is. I just got it cleaned out. Jazzy was sleeping on a makeshift bed in my room, but we can move her into the guestroom tonight.” “Thank you, Jensen. I really appreciate everything.”

Jensen carried my bag upstairs and showed me the guestroom. It was a large room, with an ensuite bathroom, and a king size bed. It was modestly decorated, but was warm and inviting. “I hope this is okay?” I stepped closer, touched his arm and said, “It’s perfect, thank you.” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll let you get settled. I need to make a phone call, but when I’m done I’ll start cooking dinner.” “Jensen, let me help you with dinner, please.” “Oh no, absolutely not. You’re my guest and you need to be resting.” Jensen said.

I sighed, “Okay, I’m not going to argue. I’ll get settled and see you soon.” Jensen smiled in victory and walked to his office. Shutting the door, he sat at the desk and pulled out his phone. Jensen called Jared. “Hey Jens, how’s Y/N?” Jared asked as he answered the phone. “She’s good, we are home, well at my house. I really needed to talk to you, Jar.” 

“Sure, man. What’s up? Is everything okay?” “I don’t know man. We kissed and it felt right, perfect. Being with her feels natural, the kids all being together, it feels like…” Jensen’s voice trailed off and Jared spoke, “Like the two of you are meant to be together?” Jensen’s voice soft, “Yes.”

Jared and Jensen sat in silence for a minute. “Jar, I’m falling in love with her and it scares the hell out of me. I feel like I’m betraying Dee, but, ugh, I don’t know man.” Jensen ran his hand through his hair. “Jensen, you’re not betraying anyone. She would want you to be happy and move on. If things feel like this, talk to Y/N. I bet she’s feeling the same way because what you’re saying has happened. Just talk to her, please.” 

Jensen sighed, “Yeah, thanks man. I’ll let you know how it goes.” “Okay, and Jensen, everything is going to be fine.” After a few minutes of talking the two friends said their goodbyes, leaving Jensen with his thoughts. Thoughts that kept drifting back to you, the kiss, and how it felt to have your hand in his. He took a deep breath and let it out. He knew he needed to talk to you. If the death of his wife taught him anything it was to never leave anything unsaid.

Walking through the house, he found you downstairs watching the kids play outside. A smile plastered on your face.

I turned when I heard Jensen walk into the room, “Hey, look at these four. They are having a blast. I’m so glad Jazzy has them.” Jensen smiled, stepped closer and looked at the children playing in the backyard. 

I felt him step closer to me, his body heat enveloping me like a warm blanket. 

His hand brushed gently against mine and I looked at him. His green eyes full of love and desire. Jensen smiled and softly said, “Hey, can we talk?” I nodded, my heart thumping loudly in my ears and caught in my throat.

We sat down on the couch, and I was terrified. I didn’t realize I was shaking, Jensen took my hands in his. “Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to be scared of me, of anything ever again. I’m here for you and Jazzy for as long as you want.” 

My head was down, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I knew if I did all the love, all the feelings I was trying to keep inside would just bubble out. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I couldn’t take his children away from Jazzy.

Jensen’s hands lightly tilted my chin up, “Please look at me, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and I looked into his. Jensen smiled, “I have no idea how to start this conversation, and I don’t know how it’s going to end but I do know I need to tell you this.” 

I swallowed hard, terrified of what he was about to say. My words caught in my throat, my voice wouldn’t allow me to speak so I just nodded.

“When my wife died I was devastated, lost and broken. My focus shifted to the kids and taking care of them. Then you and Jazzy came into our lives. Now my focus has shifted again, and it includes you and Jazzy. I can’t explain it, but being with you, having the two of you here feels right, like you’re supposed to be here. Then we kissed and I haven’t felt what I felt in a long time. It honestly scares me because it’s so fast, but I’m ready to jump into whatever this is. I think, no, I know I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” Jensen let out a deep breath when he finished talking, it was like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Tears filled my eyes. Jensen’s flashed with fear. “Jensen, when Josh died I didn’t think I’d ever be whole again. I had Jazzy and I felt so alone. I finally got the courage to date and you saw how that ended with Robert. Then you and your kids came into our lives at just the right moment. When you moved heaven and earth to get to me after I called you that night, when you took Jazzy in and sat at the hospital with me, I knew I was falling for you. Then we kissed and I hadn’t felt anything like that since Josh. When you protected me from Robert today, I knew I had fallen in love with you. You and your kids are everything to me. I’m scared, but more scared to just walk away from this. I don’t know where this is going to lead, but if you’re willing to try, so am I.” 

Jensen softly smiled and I saw the fear in his eyes replaced with joy and love. He cupped my face, leaned in and kissed me. My hands went in his hair and he pulled me close. He deepened the kiss. We were so into the kiss we didn’t hear the door open. 

Then a little voice pulled us out of the kiss, “Daddy..” Jensen smiled against my lips as we pulled away. My face was red and he was smiling, “Hey Zeppy, what’s up buddy?” “Um, can we have a snack?”

Jensen cleared his throat, stood and said, “Yep, let’s get you guys some snacks.” Jensen looked back at me and winked and I smiled.

I stood and walked in the kitchen to help him make a snack. Each time we passed each other we would gently touch each other. He reached above my head to grab some plates and as he did he placed a soft kiss on my cheek. 

Butterflies filled my stomach. I felt like a teenager in love. 

We walked outside with the snacks and were greeted by four giggling children. “What’s so funny guys?” Jensen asked as he set the snacks down. JJ walked over, “Daddy, are you and Miss Y/N getting married?” Jensen and I both looked stunned, “What? Why would you ask that?” “Because Zeppy said he saw you two kiss like you and mommy used to.” 

My face burned red hot. Jensen chuckled, “No, sometimes when you like someone a lot you kiss them like that to show them. But only grown ups kiss like that.” You chuckled when he said that because it was such a dad thing to say. 

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and spending time together. Jensen made burgers on the grill as the kids played in the yard and I sat watching. I tried to help but he wouldn’t let me. 

I sat on the back porch as the sun started setting, watching the kids play and Jensen cooking. I couldn’t help but smile. This was a perfect moment. Jazzy was having so much fun playing with the kids and I loved seeing this side of Jensen. 

“Hey, sweetheart, what are you thinking about?” Jensen asked as he smiled at me. “Just how perfect this is. Jazzy is having a blast and I just feel really lucky to be a part of this.” 

Jensen walked over to me, held out his hand and pulled me up. “This can be our life, for as long as you want.” I smiled, looked over at the kids and then up at him. I placed a soft kiss on his lips. 

Jazzy came running up, “Daddy, can I have a juice box?” I whipped my head to look at her, surprised by what she said. Jensen smiled and then Jazzy realized what she said. 

A look of embarrassment crossed her face. She took off inside, crying. 

I let go of Jensen and started to go after her. He touched my arm, “Let me go talk to her, please.” He asked gently. I nodded. 

He walked inside and found her hiding on the side of the bed. “Jazzy, sweetie, come out. It’s okay baby.” She peeked over the bed at Jensen. Her big eyes, red from crying. 

He motioned for her to come out. She slowly got up and walked over to him. Jensen pulled her in his lap and hugged her. Jazzy looked at him and sniffled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you daddy.” She said as her tears fell again. 

Jensen wiped her tears away and hugged her, “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s okay. You can call me Jensen, Daddy, or Daddy Jensen if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with is okay with me.” 

Jazzy’s eyes went wide, “I can call you daddy?” Jensen smiled and let out a little chuckle, “If you want to.” She smiled and nodded, “I don’t remember my daddy, but mommy says he loved me very much and always took care of me. You take care of me too. I think you are like my daddy.” 

I stood in the hallway listening to them and my heart melted and ached too. Josh was an incredible father and it breaks my heart Jazzy missed out on it, but I’m so glad she has Jensen. 

Jensen hugged her and kissed her head. “Come on sweetie, let’s go get washed up for dinner.” She nodded and jumped down, running out of the room and down stairs. 

When Jensen walked out of the room he saw me and smiled, “How much of that did you hear?” I stepped up to him, put my arms around his neck, “Enough to know you’re more amazing than I imagined, and we are so lucky to have you.” Jensen smiled, pulled me flush to his body, “I’m the lucky one baby. You and Jazzy fit perfectly here with us.” 

I smiled and kissed him, he deepened the kiss and I couldn’t help but moan in his mouth. When we finally parted I looked into his green eyes, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of kissing you.” Jensen laughed, “Good, because I won’t either.” Then he kissed me again. 

A few hours later the giggles of the children had quieted and they were in bed. Jensen and I sat together on the couch. My legs to the side of me as I laid against him. His arm laying on me, and his fingers dancing up and down my arm.

“Jensen, how is this going to work?” I asked, breaking the silence that filled the room. Jensen turned towards me, taking my hands in his, “Baby, we will figure it out. When I’m gone filming I’ll call you as often as I can, video chat when I can too, when I’m home, we will all be together, spending nights like this. I’m all in, Y/N.” 

“I’m all in too, Jensen.” I moved to kiss him and he pulled me over to straddle his lap. My sleep shorts were thin and his sweatpants left nothing to the imagination. As I straddled him and kissed him deeper, I could feel his arousal pressing into me. My hips moved down and pressed his desire into me, pulling a moan from his lips. 

His hands trailed up my body and it sent a rush of heat through my body. My heart quickened as my hands rested on his rock hard chest. I could feel my desire growing as Jensen’s hands moved over my body.

His teeth pulled my lower lip and I moaned. Jensen’s hands tugged at the hem of my shirt. I shook my head and he quickly pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side. My bra covered breasts exposed to the cool air. Jensen looked over my body, his eyes scanning every inch. It made me feel vulnerable and desired all at once. His fingers danced across my skin, softly touching each bruise left by Robert. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You deserve so much better.” His lips kissed each bruise, like a silent plea to make it go away. I had never felt more wanted, needed and protected then I did when I was in his arms.

“Jensen, please.” “Are you sure, darlin’? We don’t have to rush this.” “Yes, I want this, I want you. If you do.” 

Jensen pulled me into a deep kiss. This kiss was different than before. It was full of need, passion and want. I returned his kiss with equal fervor. 

Jensen leaned back, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s take this to the bedroom.” I nodded and he helped me stand. He took my hand and led me through the house to his bedroom. 

Once in the room, he closed the door and locked it. Capturing my lips again, he led me backwards to the bed. Gently laying me down, he hovered over me. He leaned up and removed his shirt. When I took in his chest, my thighs clenched together. Damn this man was stunning. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Jensen asked softly as his lips trailed over my skin. “Yes. I’m ready, are you?” Jensen nodded, “More than ready.”

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[georgiapeach30513]

Perfume on the Shelf

Summary: You told him he had one more chance to cheat, and you were done. Warning him there would be no second chances, but he didn’t listen. Couldn’t believe you. He definitely didn’t think you’d run into his partner’s arms. Jack was always waiting on you to wise up. And now he’s going to show you just how hard soft love can be.

Pairings: Jack O'Malley X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, drinking, cheating, unprotected sex, PIV sex, hard sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3K

Jack O'Malley Masterlist

You didn’t need to say anything or cause a scene. You saw him with another woman. Again. Again he disappointed you. Again he lied to you. Again he chose someone that wasn’t you. You gave him too many chances, and you’re not even sure if it’s because of love, fear, or just fucking stupidity that caused you to stay.

You take a sip of your whiskey. Letting the amber liquid burn down your throat, and give you something to think about besides the way he looked as he pushed into her. Her obnoxious pornstar sounds that echoed out into your home. Yes, he paid for it, but you still lived there. You loved it there, but he tainted it for the last time. It just wasn’t worth the loss of your dignity.

You give the bar a little tap, and the bartender gives you a pitiful look. “Just fucking pour me another round.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Absolutely not,” why the hell would you want to tell a stranger your problems? And what were you supposed to say? My boyfriend that’s a hitman for hire cheats on me all the fucking time, and thinks he should be allowed to that because his job is stressful, and he needs to fuck. Of course you have a perfectly viable pussy that he never complained about, but new pussy just feels different. And he thinks that is justifying his actions to you.

Asshole.

Robert wasn’t a terrible guy, but he was far from being great, or even good, especially in a relationship. You let him use you because you ‘love’ him. You scoff hearing that word in your mouth. While you loved him it was one sided, and you’re beginning to think you didn’t even love him at all. Maybe the idea of him, and that just makes you feel sick. What idea of him? The fact that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone that crosses you? Where have you heard that line before?

You are just as bad as him no matter how you want to think about it. You couldn’t justify how seeing him punish a man that has wronged you made you feel. How you watched him end the life of people for you — for your safety. You know you’re a sicko, but you also know you won’t be disrespected, and you at least are loyal. It wasn’t worth it.

Maybe the cheating throughout your relationship hardened you each time, so that when it was time to break free it didn’t hurt. What hurts is your ego and the fact he trampled all over it. Asshole. Big fucking dick asshole. You hate him, and hate it worse that you allowed him that amount of freedom with your heart.

Maybe shame is a better word to describe things. You just feel numb. Not the sense of relief you thought you would feel but…nothing at all. You tap your finger on the bar, hoping to get a refill soon. You lift the final drink to your mouth, but a thick and heavy hand lays on yours tapping the table and you look to your right. Annoyed that someone had the audacity to stop you, and you glare at the man.

“I think you’ve had enough. She’s had enough,” he says, waving at the bartender.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Jack. You can fuck off, too.”

“Yeah, he told me you hadn’t made it home. I told him you probably did.”

Your eyes downcast to the scratched wood. This bar is nowhere you would have ever found yourself any other time. You didn’t want to be found though. Robert would look at the high end hotel bars. you wanted to be left alone to lick your wounds and wait for him to get an assignment so you can pack up your shit, and leave for good.

“You knew?”

“Knew that he’s always fucking someone? Yeah. You’re the stupid woman that kept making excuses for him. The one that believed him when he said that he wouldn’t ever do it again, and it would last maybe a couple of weeks. Sex was real good at home, but then…like I said last time, he’s insatiable. It’s not you, it really is him. The man has no business being in a relationship. And I told you that. Or did you forget? You thought your pussy could cure his whoring ways,” you snort, your eyes go glossy as you look to the wall of liquor bottles.

Every time he cheated, Jack told you that you would be better off without him. That he wasn’t going to change, and he hadn’t. He was still a man that was going to fuck who he wanted to fuck. “That’s not all you said to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what else did I say, sweetheart?” His foot wraps around the leg of your stool, and he pulls you dangerously close to his own. Placing you right in between his thighs as he leans forward, “Go on, tell me what I said to you.”

“You know,” you whisper, your hand absentmindedly placing on his thigh. You move the hand up, and pull it back down. Looking at his thick leg, he places his fingers on your chin, lifting your gaze to him. Tsking you as he shakes his head. “You know what you said.”

“And I need you to refresh my memory. I easily forget.”

You lean in too close. Your mouth is right at his ear, and you place your lips over the shell, “You told me I could get under you, and you could help me forget him.”

“And what do you suppose I meant by that?” His breath on your neck sends a chill up your spine, and heat pools to your core. You feel like a bitch in heat with how bad you want him to make you forget. You didn’t love Robert, and had no intentions of returning, or even staying here. But something about your goodbye being with Jack’s cock fucking into you sounds delicious.

“I think you meant you want to fuck me,” leaning back you watch as Jack’s pupils expand. Blowing wide with dark pools of lust, and blocking out the crystal blue of his eyes. What both of you are proposing should be forbidden, but you weren’t loyal to any man anymore. You want him. You want him raw and unhinged.

“I think you want to hear what I sound like when I come on your cock. You want to fuck me so good and hard I forget everything I saw tonight. You want me to cry from pleasure instead of betrayal. You want me to be your little slut tonight, and have my cunt milk your cock dry.”

Jack doesn’t respond with words, he lays down a hundred dollar bill and picks you up, throwing you on his shoulder. His eyes roll in the back of his head when he feels your pussy throbbing with a need to be filled. A need to be punished. Carrying you out of the bar before walking down the street.

“Where are we going?” you ask, giggling because being upside down with some whiskey in your system is making you loopy.

“Uh uh, stay with me. We’re going to a hotel. It’s just a block away.”

“You mean that crummy old motel?”

“Eh,” he shrugs the best he can. “It’s the best option right now. Plus, I know what the best room of the place is. They keep it nice and clean for me. Just trust me,” you didn’t care about trust, you just want Jack to fuck you so you can say a big fuck you to Robert. You hoped that Jack bragged about it. Took a picture of it, hell, record it. You didn’t care. That part of you is no longer there. You want Robert to feel as low as you do, while you moan out another man’s name.

Get to feel blissful for once. You’re an adult, and you have imagined being under, over, beside, upside down, and whatever position this man could come up with, with Jack. The man is attractive, and he’s not been subtle in asking you, more like begging you. You are just now in the right state of mind to receive his kind of attention.

He slams open the door, and slings you on the bed immediately. His hands paw at your pants as he tries to remove your clothes while you look around the room. This is too nice here. It’s bigger than the normal room. “Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly.

His lips attach to your legs, creating a trail of desire all the way up before his sinful mouth is kissing over your drenched panties. “What is this place?”

“It’s my home. Stop talking.”

“You live here?”

“Yes,” he sighs, leaning back on his haunches, and you sit up off the bed watching him. “And I’m apparently a little rusty. I’m pulling out all the stops for you, kissing you over that stupid piece of fabric that you call panties. Moaning at the way you taste, and you’re just worried about my damn hotel.”

“Your hotel?” You didn’t know this about Jack. He’s full of surprises.

“And I’m only mildly offended that you made that gross comment about my crummy hotel, but the fact you’re ignoring my pinky that is only slightly rubbing over you is offensive,” you genuinely smile at him. There’s more to Jack than meets the eye. He really wants you to enjoy this moment. Not just seek revenge on your lying boyfriend, but see him. Pay attention to him, even though you haven’t exactly ignored him.

There’s a true sadness over his face, and you pull off your shirt. Reaching behind you to your bra, “You’re not trying to talk yourself out of sleeping with me this time?” You shake your head no. A grin spreads over your face as you let your bra drop into your lap, and he slings it behind him quickly.

Lifting your ass you shake your hips back and forth, removing your panties, and spread your legs wide. Dipping your fingers into your warmth, and you bring them back out. Stretching them wide, and watching as Jack stares at the webbing of your slick coated your fingers.

“Get undressed, Jack,” he does so enthusiastically. Nearly tripping as he tries to rid himself of his clothes, and that glorious cock springs free. Beads of precum shine in the low lighting, and his member twitches with excitement. Kneeling on the bed, he crawls in between your thighs, and you cover your cunt with your hands.

“Oh, come on!” It’s more silly than serious, but he’s adorable being animated.

“First, tell me, is this a one time thing? Or are we going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on?”

“Sugar, I only want you for sex,” no he doesn’t. A man doesn’t chase after a woman for years just for sex. But you want him to admit it to you. It could be all there is, or it could be that he wants to sneak around some more. Your bet is on the latter.

“Sure you do.”

“I’m being honest,” he smiles as he starts to lift your hands away. Holding his cock at the base he runs his blunt tip through your folds. Collecting your arousal, and he dips lower. Pushing just the tip in before he pulls out. “This is just a one time thing. Understand?”

“Then you better fuck me hard and good, so I don’t forget.”

“I’ll fuck you so deep that your body will be mesmerized by me. Crave me for all of eternity, and ruin you for other men.”

“If it’s just a one time thing, why would you do that?” He doesn’t answer. He just crashes into your warmth. So fast that the world spins on another axis, and your body lurches up the bed. You yelp as his cock whispers against your cervix. Eyes rolling in the back of your head as Jack settles into your warmth.

Giving your walls a chance to accommodate his thick girth, and your breathing to regulate again. “What was that you asked?”

“I said,” he pulls out of your pussy, crashing back in, balls deep. Jack’s sack bounces off your ass, and you forget what you were trying to convey. “I said that — oh my fuck!” He does this again. Stopping your line of thought every time. He is almost painfully deep, but your body pulls him closer. Wrapping your legs around his waist, and arching your back.

You want to feel him through your entire body. “I think you were trying to say something?”

“Just fuck me!”

“As you wish,” he drags himself out of you, and starts to piston back in. A brutal pace, and you can’t think of anything else, but the pleasure. The absolute perfect way that this man melts into your body just like you are the perfect fit for him. The bed slams against the wall, and you still need more. Maybe it’s just Jack.

The thought of only getting this one time, and never again is appalling. You need this everyday. You need to receive him multiple times a day. Have him filling you up, but in a weird way, worshiping you. Petting around your face, and giving you the sweetest chaste kisses while he splits you in two. He is demolishing you from the inside out, and you want him to.

You want him to take all that he needs, just so you can thank him for his services. Thrusting into you so hard that you feel bruises being formed at the apex of your thighs. You could get used to this kind of treatment. The treatment that you are the only thing that could ever matter to him. And you are the only one that could make him feel this way.

“Jack! Jack! Jaaaaaacck!”

“I know. And you’re going to take everything that I give you. Whenever I give it to you, you’re going to take it, and you’re going to tell me thank you. Okay?” You nod your head, words barely able to form on your lips, and you take it all.

Every stab into your body, you take it. Every mark he nips onto your neck, you take it. Every sharp pinch to your nipples, you take it. You take everything with fervor. You will take whatever this man gives you. Every bit of it. You’re ruined for other men sexually, if only…

“I’m going to count to three, and we’re going to come together. One,” you pout up at him. Biting on your lip as your walls start to flutter around his wide cock. This is going too fast. If you only get one chance, he should make it last for hours.

“Two,” he softly wipes his thumb over your forehead, removing the sweat that beads along your skin, and you whimper out his name. He is the devil for being too good at this. You want more. More of him. Not just his body. But the buildup is too much. You want to come on his cock. You want to feel him come into you.

“Three,” his word is more like a grunt as your tight pussy clenches down around him. Holding him so tight that you hope you trap him inside until he gets hard again and the two of you die because you can’t stop fucking each other.

One more push into you, and you feel hot ribbons of his cum spurt deep inside of you, and you both mewl at the feeling of your juices mixing into the most beautiful form of arousal. Fusing together as one as you search his eyes. Please. Please let him tell you that one time is never enough. Be good enough that he wants to stay.

He whispers out your name while his breathing is labored, and choked. “I’m not good enough for you. And I’m not good enough to walk away from you either.”

“Good.”

“I need you to get dressed and walk away from me, and this life,” you twist your head to the side and study him. “You deserve a better life than this, and I need…”

“What do you want though?”

“For you to never go anywhere that I’m not. I’ve always wanted you, and you know that,” how could it be possible that you’re now the one that needs him in your life. Jack has tried for so long. Even before Robert became your poison of choice. Why did he stick around and wait for this moment for all that time?

“I want to do this again and again and again. I want you.”

And for the first time in so long, you want to do what you want, too. You want him. You hate this life. But you want him. You can’t go on pretending that this life doesn’t exist because he is all you want. For how long was anyone’s guess because you’re unsure when Jack is who you wanted, and yet you denied him because you were with Robert. But you are tired of pretending, and tired of fighting.

“I’m sorry I tried to make you jealous,” and there it is. The man is finally apologizing after all these years. Games and more stupid games. Games that had real life consequences. Games that made you both take such different paths in life. “I love you.”

“Ehh, we’re not doing that now. I’m sorry I had to make you jealous for making me jealous. And then I got caught in Robert’s web. No more games.”

“None,” he’s tired of the games and chasing as well. Now he just wants to chase you to the bed.

“Just you and me?”

“And the devil makes three,” and that’s how you like it. Equal partners. For now until you each take your last dying breath. Just you. And him. And the devil makes three…

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @rogersbarber

[delta-pavonis]

Ficlet: Naga's Boon

For @amielot (Apparently? Like, I started this AGES ago and only have vague recollections of the server conversation that started it... Could I search the Discord? Yes. Am I lazy? Also yes.)

Dreamling AU || rated G before the break, rated E after the break (cw: nagas have hemipenes (two penises, kinda) like all snakes and lizards, but not the more, uh, horrific looking options if you Google it, monsterfucker Hob Gadling, description of non-human genitalia, Hob is a bit of a size queen and a cumslut and we love that for him, Dream has to be restrained during sex for Plot Reasons™️, naga Dream wearing a leather chest harness might be one of the hottest images I have come up with recently ngl)

----------------

"You return." His voice rumbles out of the depths. It may have been more than a lifetime ago, but Hob remembers well His voice.

Hob's immediate vicinity is brightly lit thanks to the high quality of the candle in his lantern and yet the way in front of him still looks like an endless abyss of starless midnight. "Well. Yes. You said that you wanted to know what it was like. That we should meet again on this day in one hundred years. I will keep my end of the bargain, if it provides me this gift."

The susurration of scales along damp stone is amplified by the cave's mouth as He approaches. "You name it a gift? So you still want to live?"

"Oh yes." He nods vigorously enough to cause the lantern hanging from the end of the tall staff he carries to swing.

The light sloshes wildly back and forth between the rock walls, causing a small grouping of bats to hiss and squeak before they take to the air. Hob ducks as they flitter overhead and when he turns back to the inside of the cave He is there.

For a moment it is as if a torso hovers in the darkness, His bone-pale skin almost as reflective as a cat's eyes. He embodies an ideal that only the greatest artists and students of the human form could conceive of... except where hips should dip to thighs and groin, is shadow and fire.

Human-appearing skin gives way to wide horizontal belly scales, each bright flame yellow in the middle fading to ember orange then to ruby red at the edges. Everywhere else, serpentine coils of which Hob sees no end, is the shining black of obsidian.

Hob holds the lantern-staff aside as the ancient naga approaches to within arms reach. He has to look up to meet those hypnotizing eyes, blue-black, just as he remembered. "What must I do," he pauses, breathless, "to keep this boon?"

"You are more than passing brave, Robert Gadling, to return to my lair, apparent promise of renewed immortality or no. What have you been doing for the last hundred years?" He lowers his torso as he speaks, until their faces are more of a height.

"Oh, same as before, soldiering mainly. Bit of banditry now and-wait" Hob's brain catches up with the conversation. "Did you say apparent promise?"

The naga's smirk, the barest curl of rose-pink lips, makes Hob shiver. "Well caught." He shakes his head, long black hair falling over one shoulder, and if Hob did not know any better he would think the ancient creature amused. "Your so-called boon is not subject to my whims nor those of any other. You earned it fairly and so it will not fade until you will it so."

Earned it fairly. What Hob had done was save the life of another naga from a pitchfork and torch-bearing mob. She was dark of skin, hair, and scale, yet this one had called her 'sister.'

"Oh, so I..."

"May leave, if you'd rather."

Hob pauses, bites his lip as he considers his options. This creature must have knowledge beyond his wildest imaginings, stories of things forgotten by most of those alive today. He wants to know more. "And if I'd rather not?" The naga's head shifts backwards on his neck, surprise widening his eyes; that was clearly not an answer he considered possible. "I do not know when you last went and saw the outside world, but I could tell you my story..." He hesitates before adding, "If you would be willing to tell me a bit of yours?"

The naga rushes towards Hob, stopping only a hair's breadth away, mouth open and forked tongue flickering out all around Hob's face, brushing against his forehead and cheeks and chin. Hob is so close that the naga's fangs are visible in his open mouth even though they remain retracted, pulled backwards by thin membranes that glint almost silver in the light.

The tongue disappears into a scowling face, brow drawn in confusion. "You do not smell of lies."

"That would likely be because I am not lying." For a moment Hob worries he has overstepped, been too casual, but then a glimmer of mirth softens the naga's expression.

He nods his head once, accepting the answer. "Then tell me, what has changed in your world since I saw you last?"

So that was as far as I got with the intro. Then there was this bit of gratuitous pornography...

"Hob," he hisses, "I do not think I can..."

"Love," the human soothes, reaching out to grab the naga's neck and pull him up for a kiss. "You can. I know you can hold yourself still. The only way to restrain your smooth body any more than it already is would be to loop hooks into the flesh beneath your scales. And I refuse." Dream whimpers, eyes closed as he trembles. "Just think of the reward, darling. Imagine one of your cocks buried within me, the other gripped in my hands. Think of it."

Hob tries to let some of his own breathless excitement bleed through. Because after seven hundred years of meeting with this gorgeous, awe-inspiring, witty, fascinating creature - not to mention eight decades of being lovers - finally, finally he will have what he has wanted since year two hundred and one: Dream screaming his pleasure as he empties inside him. And Hob is goddamned excited.

Little did Hob know when he first desired this that he would get to have Dream come on him at the same time.

Dream, while equally enthusiastic, is terrified that he will hurt Hob. And he isn't wrong: the majority of his body is a long tube of extremely strong muscle that thrashes around when he is near and at his climax. Hob has watched as Dream has whipped his tail around fast enough to gouge cuts eight inches deep through dragon hide, so he doesn't begrudge Dream's hesitation.

If Hob were another naga their snake-bodies would be intertwined and therefore kept from wild movements by the other's strength. But he is not. So they have had to come up with other options.

Dream's body, both human and snake, is being held down by an elaborate series of straps and chains. On his snake end, which they have found runs a full forty-seven feet in length, are a dozen foot-wide leather collars that tighten around the body if pulled. Each are anchored via chains to iron rings buried deep into the stone of the cave floor. His human form lays on a mattress, but is also held down with a harness that loops around his shoulders and chest and has a very short chain to the floor. He cannot fully sit up, but he can stretch enough to touch Hob as he is riding Dream.

Hob is perched on his lover's pelvis, along the transition from skin to scales. Behind him, three belly scales back, far too low relative to the jut of what appear to be hips to be human anatomy, protrude two slick, gleaming cocks.

Their proportions are also too exaggerated to be human, with a more pointed head that transitions relatively smoothly into the shaft. The shaft is widest at just below its middle, making it shaped almost like a flower bud. At the base of each, right before they connect into a 'Y' shape, are a series of gentle ridges that make Hob groan just looking at them. No part is wider than Dream's hand, so there is no doubt that Hob's body can accommodate.

Hob slides backwards until the two cocks press up against his ass and nudge into his lower back.

While they have never done this specific sexual act before, Hob has sat between the two dicks and rutted back and forth until they both came. It absolutely drenches Hob in cum, both front and back, and Dream takes great pleasure in covering his lover as much as possible.

"You ready, love?" Hob asks as he reaches behind to grab one of the two pricks.

He beams down at Dream, maneuvering so that he sits in the space between the twitching, leaking members. He takes a moment to rock forward, his own cock sliding against Dream's, making them both groan. Then he rises up onto his knees and starts guiding one of Dream's impossible cocks into his body.

Dream stretches and gets one hand on Hob's thigh. "As much as I can be." His voice is steadier than it was before.

Oh fuck, it is better than Hob thought possible, that long gentle taper just gliding into him until it is stretching him open, stretching and oh oh oh!

"Yes! Hob!" Dream snaps his body up as much as he is able, chains clinking as he reaches their limits, popping his prick into Hob to the base.

Hob lets out this long, drawn out wanton noise, more than a moan, not quite a howl; he is so full he almost wants to cry with how good it is.

When he looks down, Dream's chest is heaving, shining with sweat, his mouth open and slack, his lids heavy over dark eyes. He looks like he wants to devour Hob and in that moment Hob probably would let him, if only it kept this glorious prick buried within him for a minute longer.

Hob runs his hands down the cock arcing up between his legs. It twitches into his touch and presses Hob's cock and bollocks against his belly and oh yeah, that's gonna be fantastic. He rolls his hips forward once, rutting himself into those ridges at the base of one of Dream's pricks and lifting him off the other.

Dream hisses, fingers gripping bruises into Hob's thigh, and his hips snap up to fully sheathe himself again inside Hob, making them both cry out.

Hob wants to tell his lover how good it is, but he can't figure out words, so he keeps stroking both his hands up and down the cock in front of him, rolling his hips and fucking himself in time with it, and Dream sobs through it all, but his body eventually picks up the rhythm.

Hob's cum gets smeared all over Dream's cock under his hands and it is only a few more thrusts before Dream peaks, a shriek of unintelligible sibilants, stripes of searing hot white covering Hob's shoulders and neck and the side of his face. At the same time the cock inside him pulses over and over and Hob can feel the spend leaking out of him and down his legs and across Dream's belly.

If Hob had his way this would last forever, but he can already tell he is close, Dream so fucking deep inside him it hits every pleasure spot Hob knew he had and then some. He can hear the heavy chains behind him rattle and groan as Dream's long body thrashes in its confines, attempting to twist and roll. It makes every third or fourth thrust become a wild buck that hits harder than the others and Hob's vision whites out for a moment each time.

The bucking gets more frequent as Dream reaches his own peak, and Hob has already been holding himself back, so once every thrust is one of those uninhibited snaps of Dream's body, he lets himself go. "Dream! I'm gonna oh yessss!"

When he collapses forward Dream's cocks are flexible enough to go with him, still everted and full, and isn't that just lovely. They will retract eventually, out of Hob and all the way back into Dream's body until they invert internally. Perhaps Dream will let Hob fuck into his inverted pricks for a second round.

But that will be later. For now Hob feels their breathing sync as he drifts into sleep.

[speirslore]

domestic headcanons- rosie rosenthal

(a/n: requested! hope you enjoy <3 requests are open for bob, mota, and tp, as always)

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist: @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck @beautifulbluejay

rosie is naturally nurturing so he's very openly and unabashedly the biggest romantic

is very excited to get married and to have some stability after the war and trials in germany

but your wedding is small, only with your close family and friends

lovesss house hunting with you when you're still in an apartment in the city

he's a great partner, very responsible and reassuring, his presence is naturally calming for you

problem-solver, if something's bothering you he wants to fix it immediately. it doesn't matter how big or small, if it's upsetting you, he wants to make it better

you trust him and his decision making 100%

have a great foundation to have a life together, you got through a literal war together and that definitely strengthens a relationship

rosie prides himself on how well he knows you

to be loved is to be known and that is very relevant here

he also feels so loved and special when you remember little details about him

loves being spontaneous

he's so dependable

a great gift giver, will retain you offhandedly mentioning you like this certain purse or lipstick and boom six months later it's wrapped up for your birthday

he loves cooking and is ridiculously good at it

you learn that rosie can really do anything he sets his mind to including cooking stupidly complicated recipes

anniversaries? forget about it, he out does himself every single year

rosie remembers every single one, not just when you first started dating or eventually your marriage anniversary. first kiss, first everything

rosie loves a romantic gesture, does not care about public embarrassment or judgement at all

twirling you and dipping you around the dance floor

would loveee to do a big public proposal

but that being said isn't huge into pda like making out in public is not his style

but holding hands, hand on the small of your back, or just physical proximity?

oh absolutely loves pet names, especially honey and darling

but totally melts when you call him robert! he doesn't know why it just gets him...

loves it when you read to him, will very timidly request it

some nights will read to you as well, you guys take turns picking out books

one of those couples that lowkey does everything together but not co-dependent or in a bad way?

he just genuinely enjoys spending time with you. you never run out of things to talk or laugh about

rosie is great at having a routine down, he's so busy but gets everything done

so supportive of you and your career, whatever you want that to be

he loves hosting a neighbor or block party at your house, again with never being embarrassed: will get on the grill and wear your floral apron with no shame

he lovesss writing letters, it's so romantic to him

you save all of your letters written back and forth to each other in a (now very big) box under your bed

will leave little notes around the house too like if he leaves in the morning before you wake up or if he's gone for the weekend on a business trip- he'll leave a bunch of notes around the house for you to find

the most attentive dad

has art work from your kids on the fridge and all over his office

music!!!!

music is a huge deal in the rosenthal household. a record is always playing. you have a piano in the living room and your children are all in music lessons, start learning an instrument from a young age

your son loves the piano and your daughter absolutely is amazing at the violin

speaking of concerts, rosie is present at every single one and is sooo proud

the one thing he hates about his job is it can be long hours as an attorney... he hates being away from his family

documents everything about your children, like buys the baby books and takes so many pictures it's so endearing

in awe of your baby like she's so precious and rosie can't get over her chubby cheeks or squealing laughter... she's his weakness

of course he reads to the kids too and tucks them in at night

you do have to force him to relax sometimes and take a breather, it can be very hard for him to let himself relax and chill

he's gotten better since the war but still... he can very easily throw himself into his work and overwork himself

so busy taking care of everyone else that he's not taking care of himself

you can always get him to take a break when you suggest a bath together

his kryptonite...

you love taking a bath with him, a bunch of bubbles, and laying against his chest... perfection

loves being hands on with the kids

will somehow teach himself how to build things like your daughter wants a dollhouse? of course rosie can do it... why couldn't he

loves cuddling and spooning

like laying on the couch together, legs entangled, his hand on your waist, just reading or working on different things in silence, just the physical touch and intimacy is so nice for him

loves watching the kids play outside, reading the newspaper or a book he's been meaning to read, your hands loosely interlocked, sitting on the chair next to him, yeah this is paradise!

always has his robe on in the morning like a cup of coffee, a newspaper, the robe, and slippers... he's a vision

always wants you to sit in his lap or the arm of the chair

will beg you to indulge in slow dancing in the kitchen in said robe to artie shaw

will stop by the market on the way home from work to buy a fresh bouqet of flowers routinely

your kids are in awe of your love for each other and his love for you!

[nicoline1998enilocin]

List 2, Number 34 with RDJ pleaseeeee. I live for a jealous Robert

Sparks Of Jealousy

PAIRING || Robert Downey Jr. x Actress!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 900 words

SUMMARY || Having played love interests in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, your feelings for Robert have extended beyond the screen. These emotions surface at his 4th of July celebration, and you can't help but wish you had confessed your love sooner, as you know you could have shared a beautiful life with him for a few years now.

RATING || Mature (M)

TAGS || RPF. Mutual pining. Idiots in love. Jealous!RDJ. Implied smut.

A/N || This drabble is part of Nicoline's Summer of Drabbles. I want to show my endless gratitude to the amazing @ccbsrmsf1 for helping me devise a plan for this! Because of you, this has become what it is now, and I could not have done it without you! Eu te amo, bestie 🤍

Photo: Source || Other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Robert Downey Jr. || Summer of Drabbles

It's a beautiful summer day as you drive to your best friend Robert's house, where he's throwing his annual 4th of July party. Armed with your bathing suit and some snacks, you're looking forward to seeing him again, though the butterflies in your stomach are also fluttering wildly at the thought of seeing him again.

Since you two met during the filming of the first Iron Man movie - where you played the role of his assistant and eventual love interest, Pepper Potts - your chemistry has been undeniable, and over time, it has grown to love for you both, but you're both afraid to confess - though that won't last long. Because what neither of you knows is that the universe has other plans today

The moment you get out of the car and walk into Robert's large garden, you're first greeted by Montgomery and D'Artagnan, as they have also grown particularly close to you, their purring and soft fur constantly warming your heart as soon as they come to ask for some pets.

"I'm happy to see they have found their favorite human again," Robert jokes as he walks over to you. You look up at him with a smile, your heart beating faster as you see his shirtless muscles beautifully displayed today. His large smile makes you feel weak in your knees as he crouches next to you and the cats, petting them as well.

"And I'm happy they still want to see me after I haven't visited in a hot minute," you say shyly now that he's so close to you, and Robert chuckles. You both have had conflicting schedules, but you're happy they lined up for once, and you can be here for his 4th of July party.

"Well, I'm also happy to see you again, Gorgeous," he says, and you feel a warmth rapidly spreading through your cheeks at his words. You meet his gaze with a shy smile, and this time, the butterflies in his stomach are going wild.

Once Robert's cats have had enough attention, he grabs your hand. He pulls you towards the crowd of people - more specifically, your old Marvel co-stars, many of whom you haven't seen in a few years, so it's the perfect opportunity to catch up with them and talk about their latest projects and your own.

As the evening progresses, Robert gets you and himself something to drink, and you're wrapped up in conversation with one of your good friends, Sebastian, as he walks back. However, his timing isn't the best, as he only hears half the conversation, and his blood is boiling at what he hears.

"What do you think? Will you have dinner with me once we're both in New York? I missed you, and it would be nice to catch up," is all Sebastian can say before Robert excuses you and he gently pulls you inside his house for some much-needed privacy.

Once inside, you're looking at Robert confusedly, trying to piece together what's going on. You were having a friendly talk with Sebastian when you got pulled away, but it's not making sense yet.

"I- ugh! You don't understand how angry I am right now!" Robert says through gritted teeth, as he's unsure how to express his feelings adequately. Usually, he's a magician with words, but now he's stunned to silence at the thought of someone asking you out when it should be him doing that.

"May I ask what you're angry about? Is it something I did?" you ask him, your voice growing smaller as you near the end of your sentence, and your brows are pulled together as a wave of anxiety washes over you.

"No, no! It's not you, Gorgeous! It's- Seeing you with him, and- And him asking you out," Robert says as he paces back and forth, which is when it suddenly clicks in your head.

"Wait, are you... jealous? Sebastian asked if I would go and have dinner with him as friends. Oh my god, I'm so stupid! No, there's nothing to worry about because the only one I have eyes for is you, Robert. It's you I'm interested in and in love with!"

Before you can comprehend what's happening, Robert approaches you, his hands cupping your cheeks as his lips descend on yours. The fireworks outside go off as if on cue, making it even more special. All the excitement outside is long forgotten as the two of you are lost in your bubble, and your feelings have finally been revealed.

The moment Robert pulls away, you already miss his lips on yours, but what he says next is enough to set your heart on fire:

"I love you too, Gorgeous. I'm sorry it took me this long to admit, but I'm happy you finally know, as I cannot live without you for another second," he whispers before capturing your lips again, making you smile into the kiss.

That night, once everyone is gone, Robert takes the utmost care of you as he takes his time to make you fall apart on his tongue, fingers, and cock until the sun comes up the next day, making you feel like a queen in the process. Last night was the first of many, and you can't wait to see where the rest of your lives will take you both, but you know that as long as you're by Robert's side, it can only get better every single day.

[canyousonicme]

Doctor Who: Big Finish, Alex Kingston Team for New River Song Stories

Alex Kingston will return as River Song for a new round of Big Finish's Doctor Who audio dramas set AFTER "Silence in the Library."

Now that Steven Moffat is back writing for Doctor Who, fans are speculating about whether River Song will be back. Alex Kingston certainly hasn't made it a secret that she would love to play the character again. But River Song never really went away. She's been headlining a River Song series in audio dramas from Big Finish for years since she had her final story on Doctor Who. Now she will star in The Death and Life of River Song, a brand-new series of full-cast audio dramas coming soon from Big Finish Productions. It's like a whole new season of River Song adventures – and the latest.

In case you didn't know, River Song is an archaeologist from the 52nd century, born and raised to be an assassin, destined to marry her intended target, and to have many of her own adventures too – Professor River Song's very messy timeline began (or maybe ended) when she first appeared in the 2008 Doctor Who TV episode Silence in the Library. Since then, Kingston has reprised the role in her own series of Doctor Who audio spinoffs, including The Diary of River Song, which ran from 2015 to 2023. Now, in August 2024, she will return in a brand-new series, The Death and Life of River Song.

The first box set in the series, Last Words, is written by Robert Valentine. It begins with River, after settling down to an afterlife in the Library's computer core, finding herself waking up in Earth's future, her consciousness having been temporarily transferred to a new body.

Alex Kingston said that River's stories at Big Finish have moved beyond her death in Doctor Who: "We have gone post-Library! We've done another episode in the past where I was within the database, which I loved, and I thought that's the only way you could go forward with River, given her situation. So, I was actually really surprised when this box set came my way and that we are now so far advanced in the history of Earth that she is able to be brought out as data and put into a cloned body. So very, very clever!"

Producer David Richardson added: "When every single day during the recording, your leading actress says "This script is brilliant," you know you're onto a good thing. Even better, at the end of the last day, Alex popped the script in her bag and announced that she loved Last Words so much she was taking it home to keep and treasure."

The Death and Life of River Song: Last Words is now available for pre-order exclusively here, either as a collector's edition four-CD box set for £29.99 or as a digital download for £22.99 per volume. Big Finish listeners can also pre-order a bundle with Last Words as well as Volumes 2 and 3 of The Death and Life of River Song, which are both due for release in 2025, for just £80 (collector's edition CDs + downloads) or £66 (downloads only). [X]