#they are delights and you really need to pick on someone your own level

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

chapter 6

Chapter 7

“Sevika, slow down!” you demand, your legs straining to keep up with her broad strides. She’s storming through the street towards the grocer, weaving through people and dragging you behind her.

She huffs, slowing her pace marginally, still practically stomping toward the grocer. You eye her with concern – she had been fine a moment ago when she found you, granted she had been grumpy then, too, but not this grumpy. If she notices the weird look you’re giving her, she doesn’t call you out – in fact, she doesn’t say anything at all. She just keeps on power-walking to the grocer, dragging you along behind her by a hand around your arm. If you were more fool-hearted, you would almost call her jealous. Not that you’d call her out on it; you’re fairly certain if you did, her anger would come to a head, and she’d tear a strip off you in public. Or make you sleep in the Last Drop.

You’re not quite sure which is worse.

There aren’t many people in the grocery store, which puts you at ease. The street is swarming with people, and the quiet relief of the store feels like an oasis in a desert. Taking your time, you pick out everything you can think of without Sevika’s help (the most input she gives is when you ask yes or no questions about her cooking implements). Various breakfast items, what you’ll need for dinners, and, of course, tonight’s dinner. You decided to cook with steak, baked potatoes, baked beans and roasted carrots. Much to your delight, the baked beans had been canned by a local resident! You were beginning to doubt if canned beans really lasted longer than nine years.

Sevika remains silent and stormy throughout the entire grocery trip. Even as you’re marvelling at various canned foods, jerky, farm-fresh raw meat and vegetables you thought you’d never see before. No matter how many potatoes you shove in her face, grinning from ear to ear, Sevika continues to grouch. At least she carries the shopping basket for you.

Then, you grab a jar of honey off the shelf… or at least try to. She snatches it out of your hand and places it back on the shelf.

“We have honey at home, darling,” she growls, glaring down at you.

“Oh, so she can speak!” you huff, not quite willing to cave and let her smooth the last twenty minutes over. She can’t just sulk in silence for as long as she wants and then tease you with the pet name Grayson used!  

“Don’t need to waste my money on my own honey,” Sevika mutters, pushing you forward by nudging your back with the edge of the shopping basket.

You huff out a sigh and keep walking, picking up a few more things as you head to the till. Mostly, some spices and garlic to add a little flavour to tonight’s dinner. The silent treatment takes two, and if she wants to be a grouch, you can match her level.

The young woman working the till isn’t sure what to make of the two of you. She tries a friendly greeting, but when neither of you gives her a response more than a head nod, she fumbles, trying to make light conversation while awkwardly checking you out. When neither of you responds, she clams up and avoids making eye contact. The groceries are bagged and purchased in silence – a silence that follows you home.

Sevika puts away various groceries as you swipe back the ones you need for dinner. Her eyes sparkle at the steaks as if she’d expected you to keep them for another day or something foolish. Yet, when you don’t comment on her reaction, she storms off with a glass of whiskey as if she’d been waiting for you to bridge the gap. You, of all people! You weren’t the one throwing a hangry hissy-fit over nothing!

You place a chair in the entryway to the kitchen. It’s not much of a deterrent, but it gets your point across.

Luckily, cooking requires love and concentration. The Sevika’s grumpy attitude melts away from you like the butter in the carrot’s dish. Popping the window open, you let the chirping of birds and someone playing the guitar in the distance filter into the house. It lightens your mood considerably, giving you something to listen to instead of the tense silence of the house. Still playing the silent game, you resist the urge to hum along as you dance about the kitchen, grabbing spices, pots, pans and cooking utensils. A very generous spoonful of honey is added to the carrots and the baked beans, as well as the steak pan. Periodically, you hear banging as Sevika storms around the house restlessly. You shrug it off – if she really wanted back in the kitchen, she can come apologize.

It isn’t until you’re adding the steak to the pan, letting it devour the bubbling butter, salt, rosemary, honey and garlic, that you hear a cough at the entryway to the kitchen. You tilt your head slightly to find Sevika standing just behind the chair. She’s clutching her barely touched glass of whiskey to her chest, shoulders shrunk forward, head bowed, and wearing clean clothes. A button-up plaid shirt with red and black stripes, a white tank top, a purple carabiner and a pair of blue jeans with more than a few holes in them. She’s definitely playing dirty – the unbuttoned plaid shirt draws your attention to her white tank top tucked into her pants. The same white tank top that does nothing to hide the fact she’s not wearing a bra underneath it, her nipples pressing indents into the fabric. If she hadn’t pissed you off so thoroughly, you might have jumped her bones then and there, potential rejection be damned.

“Can I… come in?” she mumbles, as if it isn’t her kitchen, in her house, and you’re not cooking with food she bought with her money.

“Why should I let you?” you bristle, your defensive attitude from earlier rearing its ugly head. You refuse to let her win – even going so far as to purposely fix your glare on her face and nothing else.

“Because… I’m sorry,” she spits like the words taste foul on her tongue.

“For?” you push, minding the steaks so you don’t overcook them.

She sighs heavily, staring down at her drink and swirling it in her glass. There’s a long, silent moment filled only with the hiss of the steaks before she looks up at you, eyes wet around the edges and her lips pursed into a mournful frown.

“For giving you the silent treatment. I shouldn’t have done that – I know how you are with crowds and people and all that. I know better than that,” Sevika whispers, barely audible over the steaks as you flip them over. Your heart aches at her words despite your brain screaming at you to be upset with her. She’s extending an olive branch, are you really petty enough to cling to anger after an apology…?

You scrutinize her for a moment longer than you should, letting her squirm under your gaze until she ducks her head again. It satisfies the prickly thing in your chest that is still upset at her. Finally, you relent and ask: “How do you like your steak cooked?” 

“Rare,” she grunts, moving the chair aside. When you make no move to stop her, she steps into the kitchen, sighing a little that she’d read between the lines correctly.

Her fingers cradle your hip as she looks over your shoulder, glass set off to the side. You can feel her press against your back, the lightest touch that consumes you like wildfire as she hums with approval.

“That looks perfect, sweetheart.”

“It better be, took me so long that it’s dark out now,” you say, nodding your head to the window where the stars are twinkling. “I’m sorry, Sev’, we might not be able to see your bees tonight.”

“Nah, I’ve got two headlamps, we’ll be alright. The bees won’t care much if we take a little peak at them when the sun’s not out… unless you’d prefer to wait until tomorrow? We could always go before my patrol – if you’re alright with getting up before my patrol, that is. It’s pretty early in the morning.”

“How about we smoke something tonight and see the bees tomorrow? I’ll have to get up with you anyway. Vander and Silco told me to partner up with you until my printing press is ready,” you inform her, plating the steaks. They don’t need that long, especially if Sevika wants hers rare.

You let the wording hang in the air, unintentional connotations lacing your poor choice of words.

“Printing press?” Sevika asks, skipping over the accidental bait entirely. You groan internally – she can press her boobs against the back of your neck, but she can’t take the hint that even your subconscious wants to eat her pussy?!

“I used to be an archivist before the apocalypse. I’m already trained in preserving old texts; it’s a fitting job to reprint old books and make new ones. Mostly survival guides and the like –“ you take the carrots out of the oven – “Grayson’s making me a printing press for free if I’ll reprint her romance novels.”

Sevika nearly chokes on the sip of the drink she had dared to take. “Yeah, uh, printing press is a good idea,” she chuckles awkwardly, face flushed red.

“I think so too – it will be nice to have something new to read! I miss books… though finding lesbian romance books was always way too difficult. The market was always oversaturated by straight romances, but finding a good lesbian one felt like a needle in a haystack,” you continue, plating the carrots, beans and baked potatoes.

“Right,” Sevika coughs, scratching the back of her neck. “Had better luck finding a book than a girlfriend, though. Lot of casual, not a lot of commitment back then.”

You nod your head in agreement as you pass her a plate. “Not like it’s much easier to find a girlfriend now,” you giggle, pilfering the silverware drawer for a spoon, fork and knife.

Sevika mumbles something too low to properly make out. You only catch ‘I’ and ‘change.’ The clatter of the silverware as she grabbed herself a set didn’t help either.

“What was that?” you ask innocently.

“Said we should eat outside, back porch’s got a table on it,” she says, face remaining impassive as she nods her head to the door.

“We’ve got to get you a dining table,” you sigh, shaking your head as you step outside.

“Didn’t need one before. Can’t cook,” Sevika grunts, following you outside.

You find an old table outside with a few chairs around it. They’re plastic lawn chairs – the kind that won’t break down for thousands of years. They look to have recently been hosed off, scrubbed down and “redecorated” with various spray-paint colours. You recognize Jinx’s handiwork from a mile away, giggling a little as you take a seat. At least the table is wooden, so it doesn’t buckle under your knife as you cut your steak. Far better than you would have fared trying to cut a steak on your lap in the living room.

Sevika sits down across from you, tucking into her steak. You don’t even notice you’re watching her with bated breath until she freezes, a spoonful of beans halfway to her mouth and furrows her brow at you.

“What? Something on my face?”

“Oh! Shit – sorry! It’s… been a while since I cooked for someone. I guess I wanted to make sure it didn’t taste like ass,” you confess, ducking your head a little to shove a carrot into your mouth. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan – your carrots really have been missing honey for the past few years.

Sevika is quiet for a moment, the only sound between the two of you is the clacking of silverware. You shove steak into your mouth to prevent yourself from devolving into a rambling mess of apologies pre-emptively in case she doesn’t like you’re cooking.

“Can you cook dinner every night?” Sevika practically moans, and you blink at her with wide eyes. “I, er, your cooking’s really good. Better than my shitty attempts. Way better. If you get your own place, I might just come over every night for dinner.”

“Well, Silco did say the printing shop will take priority over a house of my own… so I can cook dinner as long as you keep buying the groceries.”

“Careful making promises like that, or I might not let you leave,” Sevika jokes, chuckling to herself as she takes another bite of steak.

You try not to fixate on the fact she said, “if you get your own place,” or how she doesn’t even try to weasel her way out of sharing her house with you. You’re pretty sure if you do fixate on it, it will end with you stripping down to your birthday suit and crawling across the table… which would be super embarrassing and definitely get you kicked out of her house. In a desperate bid to distract your brain, you shove more steak and beans into your mouth, doing your damndest to focus on the taste of your delicious cooking and not the sight of Sevika’s nipples poking out from under her shirt.

Sevika does the dishes without even being asked. You try to help by drying them, but she shoes you away, instructing you to take a seat on the couch and relax. You find yourself fidgeting in your seat, wanting to do more. Dishes clatter in the sink as Sevika rinses them off, putting them away in their various homes. It comes to a head quickly – you bolt from your seat and dash upstairs. The least you can do is change out of your clothes into something more… comfortable (as a little payback for Sevika dressing down). You throw on a sundress that complements your skin and almost reaches your knees, paired with knee-high socks you usually wear under your long underwear in the colder months and a cute but nonchalant hairstyle that frames your face. Satisfied with your little ensemble, you head back downstairs and take a seat on the couch.

It's much easier to wait when you’re giddy with anticipation for when Sevika walks through the door rather than worrying if you should have insisted on helping. You fidget with the dress, adjusting it so that it rides up slightly on your thighs and that the sleeves hang off your shoulders. Maybe it’s a little much… maybe you’re still trying to get some payback after her silent treatment.

When Sevika finally does come to join you in the living room, she freezes in the doorway. For a long and tense moment, she doesn’t speak, and you’re worried you somehow crossed a line. Then her lips split in a smirk and she crosses over to behind the couch. The barest touch of her finger tilts your head back as she looms over you.

She opens her mouth to speak and then a nervous tremor passes through her. The smirk falters into a smile, and she asks: “Do you want to go out for a smoke? I’ve got some stronger stuff than you had last night.”

To say you’re disappointed would be an understatement. Yet, you try not to let her see it – the nervous tremor lingers in your mind, making your heart ache. If she feels more comfortable playing this game of cat and mouse, who are you to force her to move faster? Especially when the game is oh-so fun.

“Is that a promise? I haven’t been able to afford the stronger stuff in ages,” you giggle, resting your head against her inner arm as she continues to tilt your face back.

“’Course it is. Do you take me for a liar?” Sevika gruffs, and you giggle again, kissing her inner wrist gently before standing up. She swallows thickly, pulling her hand back to her side slowly.

“Well? What are you waiting for then?” you ask before flouncing your way to the back porch.

Sevika takes a minute before joining you, making you wait outside in the cool night air, watching the stars in civilization’s warm embrace. You get comfortable on the porch swing, letting it rock back and forth with a soft smile on your lips. The backdoor creeks open, and you barely lift your head as Sevika sits down next to you tentatively. Glancing to the side, you realize why; without thinking, you had only left enough space to your right, forcing her to sit with her most vulnerable side facing you. Her amputated arm doesn’t bother you at all. However, this is clearly bothering her. In an effort to reassure her, you squish closer, resting your head on her shoulder. She freezes for a moment, eyes flickering down to you with a pinched brow, dubbie held between her frozen fingers.

“You going to light that or what?” you grunt, hoping normalcy will smooth the tense moment over.

“Impatient, are we?” Sevika chuckles, placing the dubbie between her lips. The lighter flickers in the dark night, illuminating her face in a warm glow for the briefest moment.

She takes the first drag, blowing it out through her nose. You take it from her fingers as she passes it over to you, pulling a long drag that curls up into the sky upon your exhale. Sevika slowly starts to calm down, relaxing into the porch swing as you melt into her side. Eventually, her head slumps to the side and rests on top of yours as both your bodies become tingly and light. When the dubbie burns out, she squishes it into the ashtray and closes her eyes with a satisfied hum. You mimic her, swinging your legs over top of hers so you are partially sitting in her lap. She chuckles and rests her hand on your legs, thumb stroking your bare skin. Worming your arm along the back of the porch swing, you play with the hairs growing at the base of her skull, twisting them around your fingers.

The night chitters and stretches on, coyotes howling in the distance, horses braying in the stables, and crickets chirping. You sigh with relief, shutting your eyes and letting the safety of Zaun wrap around you. Sevika hums in agreement, kissing the top of your head absentmindedly. In your chest, your heart flutters at the gesture, wanting to push up and meld your lips against hers until your bodies become one. Instead, you remain cuddled up against her side, hand slowly snaking around her torso to hold her waist.

“Sevika,” you start, and she hums in acknowledgement. “I know this is a personal question – so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. But… everyone keeps avoiding me about how you lost your arm –“ Sevika stiffens against you, her thumb ceasing – “You don’t owe me an explanation. Honestly, I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want me to. I’m here to listen if you do, though.”

“Jeez, you really know how to ruin a perfect high,” Sevika jokes, huffing out a forced chuckle.

“Sorry, you don’t –“

“Nah, it’s alright. Kinda one of those things I don’t like telling people, and I don’t like being asked, but you’re cute, so I’ll let you get away with it. So long as you promise not to tell Jinx.”

“Why?”

“Because she thinks I lost it in the explosion saving her and Vi’s asses, and that’s how she’s going to remember it until she’s old enough to not feel guilty about what actually happened. This is something her dads and Vi decided on – I’d tell the little shit if I didn’t think they were going to murder me for it,” Sevika explains soberly, squeezing your knee.

“I won’t tell her, I promise,” you murmur, continuing to play with the tiny strands of her hair.

“Good,” Sevika grunts, nodding her head. “I lost it back when the world went to shit. I was working at the bar when a few of the patrons turned into the gone. Back then, we didn’t know what an incubator or stumbler even was – people came in sick or ravenous all the time. They paid their tabs and tipped well, who were we to turn them away? But, then that ravenous hunger turned from any food to anything and all of a sudden, Silco was screaming because a patron just tried to eat his leg. Vander got his gun; I ran upstairs to get the kids. That message came through just moments after I’d gotten them from their beds. Powder saw it – er, Jinx used to go by Powder… it’s a long story – anyway, Powder saw the message and started freaking out. I was so focused on her breakdown that I didn’t notice Milo and Clagger were…” she trails of and reaches for another dubbie, her fingers shaking.

You help her light it, your heart aching in your chest. You hadn’t heard those names mentioned before. If this story is going where you think you aren’t sure, you want to know. The infection had two stages before it got bad: incubators and stumblers. Incubators are just sick – fighting off the infection but not yet succumbed. They can’t turn anyone. Stumblers are trapped in their own bodies, ravenous and eating anything (even garbage) with the exception of flesh. It wasn’t until they worsened into “the Gone” that they started eating flesh, with many widely speculating that the person they once were no longer existed.

After a beat, Sevika continues, passing you the dubbie: “Milo and Clagger had been sick for a while before then. We had thought they’d gotten better when their appetites returned. It wasn’t until… it wasn’t until I was up there, too distracted by comforting Powder, that one of them lunged at me, and I knew. Vi helped me fight them off, but I could see in her eyes that those were still her brothers – adopted be damned. We hadn’t even noticed that Powder had grabbed one of her experiments until she had lugged it at the ‘people’ attacking Vander downstairs. Then it all went to shit. I grabbed both of them, trying to shield them from the blast as the bar went up in flames. Vander and I barely got everyone out in a frenzy of adrenaline. Grayson showed up with a police van and shouted us to get in – we didn’t think twice; the bar was burning, and the world was ending. Thought it was a police evacuation at first, until she admitted she’d stolen the van to get people to safety when the police system crumbled. We drove all day and night to get out of that city, the car deathly silent until we were sure it was safe to breathe.”

Sevika’s voice starts to waver, and she breaks off, taking another heavy drag before continuing: “We stopped at an abandoned town for supplies. My arm was killing me, so I rolled up the sleeve and found a fucking bite mark sprouting purple veins. Silco caught me, and the two of us shared a horrified look – we used to watch old zombie movies together on the bar’s shitty little TV during slow days. He kept the kids distracted while Grayson and Vander cut my arm off. We didn’t want to worry them that I was going to turn and they were going to lose yet another family member. So, we told them my arm had been too damaged from the explosion to keep without putting me at risk. Over the years, Powder interpreted that as meaning she’d blown my arm off while saving everybody. We let her think that – it felt cruel to tell her that she’d gotten me infected. Especially when we caught it in time.”

“I’ve never heard of someone preventing infection through an amputation,” you mumble, unsure what to say to that. You know Sevika would not appreciate you saying, ‘I’m sorry that happened to you,’ but you didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding her story.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” Sevika shrugs, offering you the dubbie. You take it and inhale a small drag. “Thanks for listening, by the way. Not many people around I can tell that story to. Not many I want to tell. It feels good to tell someone who wasn’t there when it happened… I swear, sometimes Vander still looks at me as if I could have saved Milo and Clagger. It’s not as if I chose to leave them there! They were infected, and taking them with us would have meant endangering Jinx and Vi! It’s just…” she trails off with a frustrated sigh.

“You wish you could have done more for them? That you’d know before and helped them in some way?” you finish for her, passing her back the dubbie.

“Yeah. That.”

“I know how you feel… my parents were infected. They were – they would have had a better chance out here than me. Mom knew about plants, gardening and survival skills. Dad knew about building, camping and hunting. Some days, it feels like it should have been them instead of me. Some days, I wish I hadn’t circled back to their house and found them…”

Sevika squeezes your knee: “It isn’t either of our faults. Life just happens. Things go to shit and there’s not much we can do about it.”

“We can keep living, that’s a start,” you point out, resting your head on her shoulder again.

“Yeah… that’s all we can do,” Sevika murmurs, exhaling smoke. “You got enough ammunition for tomorrow’s patrol, or do we need to stop by the arms storage before heading out?”

You giggle at how she breaks the tension once more with a non sequitur. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything I need for tomorrow. Thanks for checking.”

“Would be pretty fucked up if you got bit tomorrow after all that,” Sevika grunts with a light shrug.

[zhongrin]

“no, i’m not jealous.”

— he is, most definitely, jealous.

◇ characters ◇ zhongli (ft. platonic!childe), al haitham, ayato, cyno

◇ tags ◇ fluff, crack, (character) is so totally not jealous, okay? okay.

◇ a/n ◇ i wrote this at like 2am don’t @/ me-

bad summary of content utc: 1) rip childe. 2) legends say you can foretell your future by the shape of al haitham's pecs. 3) ayato vs taroumarou; who wins? the result might surprise you. 4) cyno just wants some cuddles someone save him.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli, jealous? ridiculous.

zhongli is unyielding and self-assured. he was a revered archon, for celestia’s sake; he knows he’s wanted, and even now as a mortal he’s not foreign to the longing looks, stuttered words, and the blushes that rise to his fellow mortals’ cheeks whenever he speaks to them.

and you - you want him just as much, if not more; yet you’re different than the others in the way that you’ve successfully managed to carve a perfect little home in his heart and chose to stay there, much to his delight.

you’ve promised him your heart and the entirety of your life. he’s promised you happiness and his eternal love. you’ve been bound by the most sacred contract of all, the proofs of your vows to each other clearly wrapped onto your ring fingers.

so really, what would such petty, shallow emotion like jealousy serve?

“wow, you’re really good with your hands!”

“i’m not sure if being able to use chopsticks is a good measurement of one’s proficiency with their hands, but... thanks?”

“isn’t it harder to-” childe pauses to speak when you offer him a bite of sweet-and-sour pork and rice, gratefully takes the food, and hums in appreciation before continuing his words, “-feed others with a chops-”

“chew and swallow first; you’ll choke.”

the harbinger obediently obeys, but not before chirping a playful “okay mom/dad!” with his mouth full. you sigh and turn towards your abnormally silent lover, finding him barely picking at his own food.

“li? why aren’t you eating?”

“hm? i was just… thinking.”

“thinking,” you repeat with a fond roll of your eyes and a teasing grin on your lips, “when are you not? well, i’m sure you haven’t forgotten how to use chopsticks, so i don’t need to feed you, right?”

your husband’s lips part, as if he wanted to say something, but right at the same moment, you notice childe trying to pick up his rice, failing miserably with his horrible chopsticks control. as if on autopilot, you used your utensils to pick up the grains from his bowl into his mouth.

zhongli’s words fizzle on his tongue. the way you fuss over the brunette fuels the rumbling growls of the slumbering dragon which has been sleeping for eons, slowly baring its fangs inside his chest. gloved fingers wrap around his teacup a tad too tight, but alas, you fail to notice your brooding husband's silent fury.

he knows it’s just your instinct, to care for others and to cater to other people’s happiness. it’s one of the traits he adores from you. if anything, it looks more like a parent-child(e) relationship rather than that of lovers - besides, no personage living in liyue would think of you as the snezhnayan's significant other. that, he is confident of.

but do you really have to hand-feed a grown-up man - a fatui harbinger who almost leveled your whole nation onto the seabed at that - who was most definitely capable of feeding himself, and with your chopsticks nonetheless- wait.

before you can bring the two sticks anywhere near the plates containing childe’s food, your husband's hand gently pushes your chopsticks away. upon the questioning arch of your eyebrows, he opts for a patient and calm-sounding tone, “darling, please. eat. you haven’t touched your food for far too long.”

he then replaced your set of utensils with his own; the movement so smooth and natural you didn’t even notice, before turning to childe and scooping the extra spicy vegetable stir fry towards the brunette.

childe’s blue eyes widen in half shock and half embarrassment, and you nearly choke on your food at the comical sight.

“um-”

“eat.”

“a-ah, miss xiangling, can i have a spoo-”

“eat.”

no, he most definitely isn’t jealous.

“-who’s my prettiest boy? yes you are!”

“… what in teyvat are you doing?”

you blink innocently at your boyfriend, who had just woken up judging from the way his coat is still missing from his person, and momentarily your eyes flit downwards to appreciate the way his muscles look in his tight black bodysuit.

hmmm. ah, yes. you can see it from the way his abs look today. it is going to be a good day.

“hey,” a condescending snap of his fingers right in front of your face, and you glare at the smug expression on al haitham's face, “eyes up here.”

“i wasn’t looking at your pecs.”

“i never said anything like that.”

“not your manboobs either.”

“for the hundredth time, i do not have manboobs. and for the second time, i never said nor implied anything even remotely close to that.”

“well, i would like to inform you that i was not.”

al haitham gives you a knowing smirk and you huff in embarrassment, choosing to ignore him by looking away and refocusing on the tiny sprout (the actual plant, not that little adorable sprout on the top of his head), smiling and going back to the higher, loving pitch you used previously.

“i’m sorry baby, ignore mr. narcissist over there. now. you’re growing up so well! i can’t wait to see you grow taller and see the beautiful blooms you make! i just know my little pogchamp will-”

“what in lord kusanali’s name are you doing?”

“shut your damn mo- ahem!” you sigh and throw a pointed look at the scribe, “i am conducting a research, mind you. kindly fu- i mean- kindly ignore me and go prepare for your day.”

“enlighten me, then. what kind of research involves baby-talking to a plant?”

you roll your eyes and turn to address him properly, “ugh, fine, if you’re soooo curious, i’ll tell you. so, i read a research journal that testified something along the line of ‘speaking positive words, such as encouragements and praises to a plant, will aid its growth and make them bloom faster’. i’m trying to test that theory. now - this is veveh. i am going to tell him he’s a good, beautiful boy every day and praise him and sing for him. that one,” you point towards the plant at the far opposite side of the room near the windows, “is hawky. i’m going to tell him he’s a bast- the opposite of what veveh is. and we have [nickname] in our bathroom, which will be the control group. i’m going to give them all an equal amount of sunlight and water, and i have a journal and a kamera to regularly record the state of the plants. i plan to monitor them at least three times a day, and-”

“and who named these stupid plants?”

you gasp, scandalized, and swiftly move to cover veveh as if you’re covering a child’s ears from harmful words. which, in this case, the image isn’t far from the truth in your eyes.

“hey!! what did i say?! watch your words!! and it was kaveh’s idea!”

“of course it was,” the scholar sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you not my significant other? surely you’re smart enough to notice the implications behind the names and the assignments of the roles. why would you agree to make the plant named after me the specific sample that would have to suffer from derogatory words?”

“…”

“…”

“…… wait, haitham, are you jealous?”

al haitham blinks and looks at you as if you’ve told him that you’ve replaced him as the akademiya’s scribe and he’s been exiled from the akademiya because his performance is unsatisfactory.

“i never said anything like that.”

“awww, would you like me to tell you you’re a good boy too? want me to tell you how pretty and lovely you are? how you’re doing suuuuch a good job at work? oh, sweetums-”

“i will be leaving now, you’re creeping me out.”

you giggle uncontrollably and lean closer to the tiny plant, snickering and lowering your voice into a whisper as you watch your beloved running away in embarrassment finally leaving you to your own devices, “hey, veveh. your dad is adorable, isn’t he?”

. . . ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

veveh ends up flourishing and its first flower bloomed way ahead of the two, therefore concluding your research on a high note. however, the morning after you submit your first draft of your thesis, you find the plant missing.

instead, in its place is hawky. you also find your boyfriend sitting right beside it, reading his advanced quantum theories book outloud.

yes, your boyfriend is truly very adorable indeed.

ayato loves dogs, he really does.

he also does not condone animal abuse, and that principle is currently the only thread that’s preventing him from pushing the animal away from your lap. your lap, which should have been his pillow. his much-needed, much-deserved, comfiest pillow on teyvat that could make him fall asleep in minutes and is the only reason he would skip work.

“oh, darling, i thought you were busy?” you ask in surprise upon seeing his form standing by the door.

“i needed a break, i was getting a little stressed,” he says, walking towards your side to sit on the cushion, hoping you’ll catch on to what he’s implying with both his words and actions.

your eyes are shining as you regard him, and his heart jumps-

“good job, i’m happy you’re not overworking yourself, love.”

“... why, thank you.”

you nod and glance down as taroumaru twitches and whines in his sleep, crooning softly at the adorable sight of the animal’s twitching legs.

“i wonder what he’s dreaming about,” you giggle softly.

ayato doesn’t understand how you can make him feel as if he’s falling in love with you all over again, yet at the same time, you make him want to punch the nearest wall in frustration.

with a tired sigh, he flops his head onto your shoulder it should have been your lap darn it and he nuzzles into the fabric of your kimono like a cat that’s seeking attention. the sweet soft laugh escapes your lips once more and he waits.

….

….

.... your hands are still petting the dog.

this is ridiculous, he thinks. the mutt is asleep; surely you would turn your attention to your poor fiancé, right? surely you wouldn’t be so heartless as to ignore him when he’s seeking you out like this? surely you would pity his overworked self and grant him some comfort even just a little-

“you really don’t have any meetings?”

“…. no, i don’t,” he hums casually and adds an exaggerated yawn.

“i think you need a nap, ayato.”

one of your hands finally rests upon his cheek and caresses his skin lovingly. a content little smile stretches his lips, but it disappears when your touch retreats all too soon for his liking.

maybe he should consider having a ‘no pets allowed in kamisato estate’ rule.

the door suddenly slides open to reveal thoma, who took one good look at the two of you and being the ever so polite man that he is, immediately splutters an apology for interrupting what seemed to be an intimate, relaxing moment between lovers.

the yashiro commissioner seizes the chance.

“it's fine, thoma. you’re here to take taroumaru on a walk, yes?”

at the keyword, the canine’s ears flick and his beady eyes open.

“huh? no, i just-”

“wonderful! why don’t you take him on a long walk, i’d say he’s just itching for some exercise after napping for so long.”

“eh? um-” thoma freezes at the cold smile on the young master’s face and forces a laugh at your inquiring gaze, “-y-yeah! waka is completely right! c’mon boy, it’s time for your walk!”

with a happy bark, the dog leaps out from your lap and bounds towards the housekeeper, who gave the two of you a sheepish nod before sliding the door shut.

ayato hums in satisfaction and reclaims his throne. without him even needing to ask, your fingers settle onto his blue locks, blunt nails scratching his scalp. you bend down to place a loving peck on his forehead, your scent envelopes his senses, and he melts.

ah, the taste of victory is always sweet.

“just one more game!”

“but love-”

“just one more game, please please please please!”

cyno sighs, “you said the same thing three rounds ago.”

i’m tired, i want to cuddle you now, the general mahamatra tries to telepathically communicate right into your brain by staring at you with his soft and downturned vermillion eyes. alas, you are too focused on refining your tcg deck and testing it against the man and the legend himself.

“i swear this time it’ll really be the last!!”

being a rather new player that you are, you’re still clumsy in your actions and strategies, but he can sense you improving with every match you lost. the way you’re so passionate and fully throw yourself into the things you’re interested in never fails to bring a sense of pride into his heart, but seriously - even the most serious of men needs a cuddle every now and then. plus, you fit so well into his arms! can you blame him for being a little needy after a whole three hours of being denied any sort of affection despite the fact that you’re seated right across this stupid table??

you can’t and you shouldn't.

“you promise this will be the last round?”

“for today, yes!”

your boyfriend sighs and nods. yes, his need to cradle you in his arms is overwhelming. but when you look at him with eyes that shine brighter than the stars in the desert at night, how can he refuse? he’d give you a whole oasis if you asked for it. he can last just one more round of tcg.

... right?

cyno swears it has to be the longest match of his life.

you’re so cute when you’re thinking over your actions; eyes gazing upon your cards and his in contemplation as you mumble strategies under your breath. you’re so cute when you do a little cheer as the dice gods graced you with luck on your dice rolls. you’re so cute when you gasp in awe as he pulls a rather tricky maneuver that ruined your plans to attack his deck in this round.

archon kusanali give him strength, for you’re so cute and he wants a cuddle so badly.

“nooooooo,” you cry out in despair as he downs the last two of your characters at the same time with a well-timed elemental reaction, your body slumping against the table.

cyno can’t help but smile, although he does feel a bit bad from beating you yet again, so he decides to give you a little tip to hopefully cheer you up, “almost got me there. why don’t you try using a freeze team next time? you have the cards for it, and i think it'll suit your playstyle.”

at once, your head snaps up and you meet his gaze with determined eyes.

oh.

oh, he just dug a grave for himself didn’t he.

“[name]-”

“you’re right. let me- let me rebuild my deck, wait-”

“you promised-”

“i know, i know! just- fifteen minutes! give me fifteen minutes!!”

cyno wishes he could bang his head against the table, rattle his stupid brain and zip big mouth shut.

he just wants a cuddle.

why is it so hard to get a cuddle?

what’s a man gotta do these days for a cuddle??

cyno sees you staring at your character cards with your hand on your chin, clearly in deep thought. your boyfriend then opts to glare at his character cards, as if they were the ones who had stolen his cuddles, but a few seconds into that and he scoffs, looking away to the side as warmth rapidly bloomed across his cheeks.

seriously, what kind of man gets jealous of a card game?

but cuddles...

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea

[hannahbarberra162]

Sir Crocodile and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

18+ MDNI

As picked by readers! Ace nonnies, I see you. I'll write the childhood friend reader x Ace story too.

On Ao3 in French

One shot, Reader x Sir Crocodile, fluffy

Word count: ~6k

Synopsis: Crocodile dreads the one day a year you take off of work, your birthday. As his incredible personal assistant, he depends on you for almost everything. Like every year, a day without you is a complete disaster. But maybe there is something he can salvage from the wreckage. Something - or someone - he's wanted for a very long time.

Sir Crocodile tapped the flat of his hook against the date circled on his desk calendar. Tomorrow was his absolute least favorite day of the entire year. You took off only one day annually, your birthday. Sure, you nominally had weekends off as well. But something always came up and you spent at least half a day dealing with his business or personal matters every weekend.

He didn’t begrudge you having your birthday to yourself - you were incredibly diligent and deserved it. But without you around, everything seemed to fall to shambles within minutes. You were by far the best personal assistant he’d ever had. Maybe even the best employee he’d ever had, even among his cohort of Devil Fruit powered henchmen who killed for him indiscriminately. Of course, he knew that if he called you on your baby den den mushi, you’d answer and do whatever he needed. But he would feel guilty for disturbing you . And guilt was an emotion Crocodile had only felt once and never wanted to again. No, he’d make due without you tomorrow and let you enjoy your day off. 

Though he was not kind to - or even close to - his Baroque Works crew, Crocodile was considered a top tier employer in Rainbase Lake. Once he found someone who was good at their profession, he tried his best to keep them in his employ. He treated his personal staff with respect, paid very well, and had set guidelines for employees to follow. Henchmen could be replaced, bloodthirsty pirates were a dime a dozen. Reliable and high quality housekeepers, chefs, and assistants? Priceless. 

And you were the most reliable, most organized, most level headed, most meticulous, and most industrious employee he’d ever had. At first, he suspected you of being a devil fruit user. That would explain how you managed to get everything done correctly, on time, and make it seem easy. However, he quickly realized that you were just that good . But you weren’t single mindedly following his orders all the time, like some of his stooges. You didn’t wait for him to tell you things he needed or tasks he wanted done, you thought for yourself and anticipated his needs. You weren’t a yes man, you would voice your opinion if he asked for it. He valued your insight and operations driven mind. In fact, during the years you’d been working for Crocodile, you’d only ever argued once. And it wasn’t even an argument, really. Crocodile had started growing a mustache, he thought it added some regality to his face. You hated it and told him that it didn’t suit his features. You were right, of course. He’d allowed you to shave it off yourself, much to your delight.

Even without it being your day off, Crocodile always remembered your birthday. Yours was the only one, besides his own, that he had ever bothered to recall. He had many lovers who assumed the thoughtful and romantic gifts they received on their birthdays, anniversaries, and “just because” came from him. But the truth was that all his lovers were in a relationship with you. You remembered all the small details and arranged everything to his lover’s tastes. Crocodile didn’t even try to remember their names, calling them all “Doll” to save himself the hassle. He even thought of them that way - interchangeable, easily replaced, silly but ultimately worthless playthings. But you could tell him their favorite flowers, preferred gemstones, clothing style, shoe size, and any other tidbit of information he’d ever want. You had sent hundreds of gifts on his behalf and had never gotten anything wrong. As a result, Crocodile had a reputation for being a true romantic, someone who listened when his paramours told him personal details. He couldn’t care less. 

He stopped over at your desk as you finished out your day, bringing a small gift bag with him hanging off his hook. 

“Happy birthday,” he said in his low tone, handing you the present.

“What a pleasant surprise, Sir,” you said, removing it and opening it immediately. It was a potted white rhino agave succulent that he had bought without your assistance. It was expensive and rare, but you were worth every penny he ever spent on you.

“Oh, how thoughtful! Thank you so much, Sir!” You beamed at him. To some, it would have looked like a poor gift, but Crocodile knew you well. You didn’t care for cut flowers or most trinkets. You were passionate about cacti and succulents, spending some of your time away from him caring for the plants. You had an impressive collection, one that Crocodile added to as the occasion arose. You got up from behind your desk, walked around to him, and stood on your tiptoes. Crocodile brought himself down to your height and you kissed his cheek in gratitude. 

“What a wonderful send off, Sir. I will see you the day after tomorrow. Please, if there is an emergency, do not hesitate to call.” Crocodile smiled at you and leaned against your desk. Crocodile knew you meant nothing untoward by the kiss, it was platonic affection. But he enjoyed the feeling nonetheless. He looked forward to it annually.

“Enjoy your day off.” He wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Thank you, Sir.” With that, you carefully carried your plant and left the office. Crocodile watched you leave then scowled once you’d left. It would be a long 24 hours without you.

~~~

The next morning began poorly right from the start. Crocodile awoke late, his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. He blasted it with sand, destroying it completely. He was annoyed already. Normally you woke him gently before his alarm clock did, but you weren’t here today. He found waking to your soft voice and calm face a soothing way to start his day. Crocodile rose from his bed and went to his clothes valet, only to find it empty. He wanted to destroy that as well, but he decided he shouldn’t demolish everything that irritated him today. He’d have nothing left and besides, it would be more work for you to replace everything. You usually hung his clothes for him after pressing them yourself, and he rarely saw the need to adjust your choices. You knew what he liked and how he liked to present himself down to the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves. Crocodile stalked to his large walk in closet and looked through the well organized racks of clothing. It had been one year since he’d had to do this himself and he hadn’t missed the chore. 

He selected an outfit and looked at himself in the mirror. The outfit lacked a certain elegance that you were able to assemble effortlessly. He adjusted his hook - it looked dull. You always polished it for him until it gleamed.  It would have to do, he was already late for a meeting he had called. He left his bedroom for the dining room, looking for his cafe corto. There was a carafe of drip coffee waiting on the table, but no espresso. There was also an impressive tray of sweet pastries. You knew Crocodile wanted a cafe corto first, then drip coffee, cigar, no food. Was it so hard to replicate everything you did for just one day? Could no amount of staff compete with one small woman? Crocodile rang for a servant and asked for the espresso. He was brought an Americano. He sighed and rubbed his temples with his hand. 

The day went downhill from there. You had prepared for your absence during the day, leaving notes and organizing what you could anticipate. Crocodile had another staff member on the den den, fielding calls you’d normally take. But even with your absent help, it was a complete disaster. Crocodile was used to you taking notes for him during meetings, he had forgotten to bring a pen and paper to the board room. By the end of the meeting, he’d forgotten half of the numbers from the quarterly presentation. Everything seemed to need your touch, your help, your forethought to run smoothly. 

Things went from bad to worse. Meetings went off topic, reports had incorrect data, enemies were left untortured, and he’d forgotten to feed the bananawanis on time. Word spread quickly that Crocodile was in a bad mood. Everyone knew the reason why, but no one dared to breathe a word about it. Despite his earlier wishful thinking, the boardroom table now had several hook sized holes in it and his office was covered in sand. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep pull on his cigar. You would have already had everything arranged to soothe his anger.

It wasn’t even all the small matters during the business day that you arranged. You were adept at anticipating his needs before he even realized he wanted something, and arranging his life to one befitting someone of his station. You understood him better than perhaps anyone else. Yes, Miss All Sunday managed Rain Dinners, but you managed Crocodile. 

He sat and recalled one of the times when he’d called you in the middle of the night. He did try not to disturb your rest, but sometimes it needed to be done. One such occasion was when he’d invited Dracule Mihawk to his residence. They had been talking - and drinking - late into the night. In the early hours of the morning he rang you to ask for some food to accompany their wine. 

“Hello Sir, how may I assist you?” your voice had been sleepy, he saw his snail answering bleary eyed but still with a smile.

“I apologize for the late night call. I’d like some refreshments.”

“Of course sir,” the snail looked over at something. “It is now 2:50 AM. I had your favored refreshments scheduled to be delivered at 3:00 AM. Would you prefer to wait ten minutes or would you rather I bring you something immediately?” You weren’t being facetious, Crocodile knew if he asked, you’d have food for him by 2:59 come hell or highwater. 

“3:00 is fine, thank you.”

“I hope you can forgive my impertinence, Sir - I also included some refreshments that may be more to your guest’s liking.” Mihawk raised a single eyebrow. 

“Very thoughtful. Good night.”

“Good night, Sir.”

And sure enough, at 3:00 AM on the dot, a tray of Crocodile’s favorite foods to pair with heavy drinking were delivered by a tired looking waiter. Crocodile served himself some fresh dumplings and offered the tray to Mihawk. Mihawk declined, as he was sampling the gambas al ajillo and jamon.

“Quite the assistant you have,” Mihawk said, a glimmer of intrigue ghosting over his face. “The dishes are excellent, send her my thanks.” Mihawk inclined his head to Crocodile. Crocodile smirked, you had made him proud. 

Breaking his walk down memory lane, he heard the den den mushi ring for what felt like the millionth time that day. Miss Merry Christmas picked up the receiver. He could hear half of the conversation.

“Hello? No, she’s not in today, it’s her birthday. I don’t think you’ll want to - are you sure - let me see,” Miss Merry Christmas looked at Crocodile in his office and yelled through the open door “it’s Doflamingo, do you want to take it?”

Crocodile wanted to kill her on the spot. His sand was already swirling behind him. She had told Doflamingo of all people that it was your birthday. After Crocodile had started taking you to Warlord meetings, the flashy fool had been trying to get you to move to Dressrosa and work for him. Crocodile wasn’t worried about you leaving him for another employer. The thought just sat heavily in his mind and caused him immense anger when he imagined you spending time with Doflamingo. But that wasn’t the same as jealousy. Crocodile would never be jealous over an employee. Even one as smart and lucious as yourself.

Furthermore, Miss About To Be Impaled had asked if he wanted to take the call. Now Doffy knew he was there and had to take the call or else risk a tantrum from the spoiled King. He stalked over to the snail, who was looking quite smug.

“What.”

“So it’s her birthday today, mmh? I’ll have to send something nice, maybe some lingerie…would you like some as well? Fufufufufufufu.” Crocodile hoped Vegapunk would soon invent a way to kill someone through a den den mushi. He’d deal with Doflamingo later, he was in no mood for the Dressrosa King’s idiotic love quests. He hung up softly, gently patting the snail on the back with his flesh hand. The snail survived because he’d killed one once in anger after such a call and it had upset you. Crocodile didn’t like when you were upset. You’d even cried over the snail and Crocodile had felt guilty. He had liked that even less. 

He needed a drink.

~~~

Crocodile left his office for the restaurant portion of Rain Dinners. He had a splitting headache and nearly called out your name to ask for your assistance. Every year your birthday made him realize how heavily he depended on you, so every year he increased your salary the following day. He made a mental note to do the same again tomorrow. 

Crocodile sat in his favorite booth, smoked his cigar, and drank his whiskey neat. The bartenders here were competent and didn’t need to be told what he wanted to drink. He was thinking over some of the reports brought to him by his minions when he spotted you, alone, drinking a glass of wine at the bar. Crocodile was surprised - drinking alone, on your big day? Crocodile knew you had a romantic relationship that predated your employment to him. Crocodile had never liked your partner, but you seemed happy enough. He didn’t understand why someone of your caliber, of your intelligence and beauty was with such a loser, but for your sake he hadn’t killed him. 

Crocodile gathered himself and headed straight to you at the bar. The crowd parted for him easily, with many trying to capture his attention. Some of his Dolls tried to touch his arm or talk to him but he didn’t even spare them a glance. Coming up to your side, you looked up at him and smiled weakly. 

“Good evening, Sir.” You looked absolutely ravishing, just as gorgeous as the day he met you. Normally you wore simple but well tailored clothing to work. It hadn’t stopped his imagination from running wild when you wore your pencil skirts or your slightly lower cut tops. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wanted to free your hair from its style and run his fingers through it. Or the times he’d wanted to rip through your skirt and pound into you when you leaned over his desk. He’d entertained the thought of seducing you many times, but ultimately he respected you too much to do so. He didn’t want to interfere if you were already in a relationship, as pathetic as your choice was. Besides, he didn’t know what he would do without you if his interest was unreciprocated and you left. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility.

Today you were more dressed up fancier than usual, your striking figure in an elegant black dress that bared your back provocatively. He stifled his impulse to run his hook down your spine to see if it made you shiver. Pulling his thoughts back to you, he noticed your eyes were slightly red and puffy. He put his large hand on your shoulder.

“What happened to that… person …you usually spend time with?” He couldn’t call that boy a man, let alone a boyfriend. He was lucky Crocodile remembered his existence. And continued to allow it.

“We aren’t together anymore, Sir.” Your eyes watered. Crocodile sat in the seat next to yours.

“Did you break up tonight?” Crocodile spoke softly, not wanting to embarrass you or upset you further.

“Yes, Sir.” You looked down at your glass of wine, swirling the drink gently.

“Would you like him killed?” Crocodile could have sworn his hook was twitching. He could think of no better ending to the evening. Maybe that would save this terrible day.

“No thank you, Sir.” You didn’t have the same penchant for violence and bloodlust that he did. Crocodile didn’t mind. He didn’t care for succulents all that much. You could have different hobbies and still work well with one another. “You don’t have to waste your time consoling me, Sir. I would like you to enjoy your evening. A few of your lovers are here, if you’d like me to remind you of their names.”

Crocodile scoffed. “As you know, I am always doing what I want to be doing.” You nodded. As if he would forgo time with you for some nameless woman.

“Where did he work again?” Crocodile was going to have him tracked down, just for….fun. 

“He’s the general manager of ‘Fantasia,” you replied, your mouth dipping into a frown. It was a rival casino, though not even in the top three in Rainbase Lake. “He said I am too involved with my career, that I didn’t spend enough time away from work. That my life revolves around yours.” You looked up, repentant already. “I apologize, Sir. You didn’t ask for details.” Crocodile waved your concerns away. He enjoyed it when you shared your feelings and opinions. Crocodile took the flat of his hook and put it under your chin, raising your face to look at his own. A tear tracked down your face.

“Some people do not understand dedication. Loyalty. Duty. Passion.” 

“Passion, Sir?” Your face slightly flushed from the wine - or perhaps the intimate contact. Crocodile belatedly realized his misstep. He hadn’t meant to reveal his desire, especially when you were already upset. He reluctantly removed his hook from beneath your pretty face. 

“Would you like me to escort you home?” Crocodile changed the conversation in case you’d been uncomfortable. 

“Yes, thank you Sir” you looked surprised at his offer and that you yourself had taken him up on it. Naturally he wanted to ensure his favorite employee was home safely. He had never done this for anyone else but that didn’t mean anything. It certainly had nothing to do with your sadness and vulnerability.  He offered you his hand and you gingerly stepped down from your bar stool. Crocodile guided you to the door with his hook on your bare back. He looked closely and found himself right, you had gotten goosebumps.

The two of you walked through the darkened town in silence, enjoying the pleasant weather. That was something else Crocodile appreciated about you - you didn’t feel the need to fill a stillness with meaningless chatter. The longer the walk took, the less pleased Crocodile became. He paid you very well, why weren’t you living in the luxurious part of the town? You turned street corners until you ended at a shabby looking apartment building and stood in the doorway. Crocodile would rather have burned it to the ground before he set foot in it. 

“This is where I live Sir, thank you for accompanying me.” Crocodile looked at the crumbling brick building once again. 

“Why?” Crocodile bit out. He had nearly chomped his cigar in half.

“I beg your pardon, Sir?” you looked confused at his question.

“Why do you live here? I pay you well, I know you can afford better living conditions.” Your face flushed. 

“You need not concern yourself, Sir. The situation has resolved itself.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. So it was related to the boy. Had you been paying off some of his gambling debt? He had that look about him. Crocodile knew it well, he owned a casino and had seen that type of fool thousands of times. That wouldn’t do and neither would your current living situation. 

“Indeed. You’ll be moving into my mansion.” Crocodile was pleased with this outcome. He hadn’t liked you living so far from him. He always had a security detail following you when you weren’t with him, but it never felt like enough. With the level of intimate knowledge you had about Crocodile and his businesses, he was always concerned that you’d be kidnapped or tortured. Truthfully, if he admitted it to himself, he worried. Another feeling he didn’t like. No, this would work out perfectly. He wouldn’t have to be distracted by thoughts of your well being and you’d be closer to him at all times. 

“Sir, that is…not appropriate,” you demurred. He hadn’t thought of the implication of moving you in, but in this case he wasn’t thinking with his lower head.

“Nonsense. You’ll have the entire East Wing to yourself. Decorate it as you see fit, I’ll provide you a housing stipend. I will wait here for five minutes. Gather what you will need for the night. Daz will collect the rest of your belongings tomorrow.”

“Sir, is this really -” you had crossed your arms across your lovely chest.

“The countdown has begun.” His will was set in stone, not even your annoyance could sway him. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and walked into the building briskly. Perhaps one good thing had come from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

~~~

Crocodile was immensely happy with the outcome of his decision. He felt at rest knowing he could protect you and keep you safe from those who would seek to gain power over him. Or worse yet, other magnates trying to scout your services for their own. He’d caught Mihawk speaking to you quietly after the last Warlord meeting, and you laughed at something he’d said. He wouldn’t stop you from having conversation with the Swordsman, but he didn’t like it. He knew even Sengoku had tried his hand at recruiting you for the Marines. You turned down every offer and stayed with Crocodile. He wasn’t worried about your loyalty, but Crocodile didn’t like the attention you received from others. You were his personal assistant and Crocodile had never shared well. 

He did try to give you your space and allow you your own personal life within the mansion. He didn’t want to control you, he knew you were your own woman. But since you now shared the same (gigantic) mansion, he did occasionally see you outside of your working hours. He saw you strolling in the gardens, tending to your plants, watching the stars from the balcony. When you weren’t working, you dressed more casually, allowing Crocodile to see more of your body. It did not help that you only referred to him as “Sir,” even outside of work. He had long fantasized about your sultry voice saying “yes, sir” and “no, sir,” in a more intimate setting. He’d tried it with many of his Dolls, but none of them could get it right. Only your “yes, sir,” got his blood pumping. 

~~~

The longer you lived in his mansion, the more suspicious Crocodile became of the nature of your feelings towards him. Crocodile wasn’t one to directly ask, but you seemed to have some feelings that crept out every now and again. Once, he’d asked you to help a Doll leave the morning after a stay in his bedroom and you outright refused. It was the first time that you’d ever refused a task he’d asked of you. And you hadn’t backed down. You said it was outside the scope of your duties, but that you’d send a housekeeper. If Crocodile had to put an emotion to your tone, it would have been jealousy. Other times, he had caught you staring at him, and blushing and averting your gaze when caught. You’d worked together for years, but with the closer proximity and your newly single status, perhaps your feelings were changing. Crocodile wanted to test his theory. One day, when your pencil skirt was particularly tight, he called you into his home office. He was leaning back in his chair, smoking a cigar as usual, papers on his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” you stood at the entrance to the office.

“Come in, I don’t bite.” You immediately moved closer to his desk, slight confusion on your face. Normally he tried to speak to you as professionally as possible, and you immediately noted the change in his language. “Take a look at the latest figures from Rain Dinners. I know the calculations are correct, but something is missing.” You came over to his side of the desk and bent over to read, like you’d done so many times before. But this time, he rested his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t say anything, but he heard you suck in a breath. Interesting. You spent a moment flipping back and forth between the pages.

“I see the issue, Sir,” you said, still bent over. Crocodile stood up and bent over next to you, caging you in with one arm. “I apologize. You are missing a page of the report,” you were blushing furiously but continued “I will g-get you a better copy.” You were flustered.  

“Thank you, that’s all,” Crocodile breathed into the shell of your ear. You shuddered from the close contact. Crocodile sat back in his chair, releasing you. You practically ran from the room, face as red as if you’d spent it in the Alabastan desert. Very interesting.

~~~

Crocodile wanted to set clear boundaries and to have affirmative consent from you before he did anything. He respected you as a person and if you were to turn him down, he would still want to keep you as an employee. He called for you one late evening. You arrived promptly, though in more casual clothing since it was outside of your business hours. You were wearing a mid length sundress with a blue flower pattern. It accentuated everything Crocodile liked about your figure. Perfection.

“How may I help you, Sir?” Polite as always. 

“Come here,” Crocodile beckoned you with one extended finger. You stood in front of him expectantly. He carefully wound his hook around your waist and pulled you closer, directly in front of his seated form. “Better.” He removed his hook. 

“Do you enjoy working for me?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Of course, Sir. This is the best job I’ve ever had.”

“Do you remember the day that I hired you?” Crocodile was dragging on his cigar, allowing the smoke to billow out of his mouth. Simultaneously, he was polishing his hook with a cloth. He knew he struck an imposing figure.

“Yes, Sir.” You were transfixed by the sight of the golden hook, gleaming in the dimming light. 

“Do you remember our conversation about the bananawanis?” You tore your eyes away from his hook.

“Yes, Sir. One of the conditions of employment was being comfortable with bananawanis. You asked if I had any concerns in caring for them.” You were getting nervous, unsure of what the purpose of the conversation was.

“Do you remember what you told me?” Crocodile grinned his unnerving smile.

“Yes, Sir. That they are apex predators, they need to be treated with care and respect. If you accept your place beneath them, they can be affectionate and sweet. And that,” you looked him in the eyes, “I doubted they were the most dangerous creatures on the premises.”

“Do you still believe that to be true?” Crocodile rose to his full height, towering over you. You looked up at him. You looked on edge but not scared.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“And what might you say about a more dangerous creature?” He spoke low, looking down at your reddening face. He wound his hook slowly around the back of your neck, giving you time to move away. You didn’t move except to shiver.

“Ah, likely the same Sir. That if I were to accept my position as subservient, I think most strong, ahm, creatures would be receptive.” Crocodile pulled on his hook gently, baring your neck to him. He bent down to your height, ghosting his lips on the exposed column of your neck.

“Speak now with your objections.” He was being truthful, any hesitation on your part and he would stop immediately. He was interested in willing submission, nothing else.

“Sir, I…admit I am so inclined but I worry about mixing business and passion .” Crocodile grinned at your statement, echoing his words from your birthday. So you’d been affected as well.

“If anything unpleasant happens between us, now or after, I assure you we will go back to our previous arrangement. You will not be fired nor face retribution. Do you find that acceptable?” He would rather lose his other hand than you. You nodded. 

“Yes, Sir.” You were looking at him with stars in your eyes.

“If I do something and you wish to end the experience, say ‘no.’ If you say ‘stop,’ I won’t. If you say ‘please,’ it will not move me, nor will any tears. If you say ‘no,’ I will immediately cease my actions. Do you understand?” You gulped.

“Yes, Sir.”

“What word will end anything that you do not wish to happen?” 

“If I say ‘no’ to you, Sir.”

“Very good. Take off your dress.” You looked nervous but your lips quirked up at the corners with his slight praise. He knew that you did your best when given approval. He sat back down in his chair and admired your elegance. You slowly brought down the straps to your dress, then removed your arms from within them. You weren’t wearing a bra, you’d deemed the dress sufficient. He had seen many strip teases from his Dolls, all perfectly crafted and practiced to make a man inflamed with want. Yours had no artifice, no guile, nothing calculated. And yet he found your performance much more sensual and alluring. He felt his cock stiffening more with each passing second. When your arms were free, you let your dress pool at your feet and stepped out of it. You stood still, awaiting his judgment.

“Absolutely stunning.” He stood up again, circling you slowly, letting the metal of his hook glide across your bared skin. He trailed it over your back, across the backs of your arms, across your collar bones as he went around you. Anywhere he dragged it raised goosebumps on your flesh. “You look even better than I have ever imagined.” You preened at his words. He continued to tease you with his hook. “Does it make you nervous when I stare at your beauty?”

“No, Sir.”

He finished drinking you in and sat down once again, only to spread his legs. “Come sit,” he said, voice smooth as silk. You unhesitatingly went over to him, breasts bouncing gently as you walked. You perched yourself sideways gracefully on his powerful thigh, waiting for his next command. You always did so well following his orders, after all. He put down his cigar and put it on your side, bringing you closer to him.

“Exquisite beyond compare.” Bringing his face down to yours, he twined his hand into the hair at the back of your head. He pulled, slanting your face upwards. You were panting softly. He searched your face for any hint of lingering doubt, but he only saw raw desire. He brought his lips to yours ever so slowly, creeping inch by inch, not yet kissing but oh so close. You tried to reach up for him with your mouth but his hand kept you from doing so. “No need to rush, I’m not going anywhere,” he said and bit the lobe of your ear gently. Crocodile didn’t have it in him to wait any longer to kiss you. He brought his lips to yours, opening his mouth. You gave him entry as his tongue explored your own. He kissed you at his leisurely pace, showing you who was in control. He was demanding and dominating and you were loving every moment. 

“Tell me, if I felt between your legs right now, would you be wet for me?” he asked as he kissed down your jaw. You flushed crimson but his hand in your hair prevented you from avoiding his gaze.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Show me.” 

“Yes, Sir.” You spread your shaking thighs for him, revealing your soaked panties. He untangled his hand from your hair and walked a finger down your arm, down your stomach, down to your thighs. He reached around you and shredded the sides, destroying them and revealing your gleaming pussy. You gasped but didn’t move. He trailed a finger down your slit, not parting your lower lips but fingers still coming back glistening. 

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” you said, biting back a moan. 

“Would you like more?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” Oh, you’d never added that little plea before. Crocodile felt himself getting even harder than he was before. Maybe one day he’d make you beg. But not today. 

“Ride my thigh, that’s how you’re getting off tonight.” He wanted to watch your face and enjoy the mess you made on his slacks. There’d be plenty of time for other fun. He shifted you so you were straddling his thigh.

“Yes, Sir,” he was pleased that you didn’t hesitate, that you were as interested in following as he was in ordering. You started gyrating on his huge thigh, making small whimpers, your hands on his shoulder for stability. He took the opportunity to cup your breast, kneading the mound between his fingers. Occasionally, he missed having two hands. This was one of those times, he wished he could feel both of your breasts at the same time. Instead, he raised his thigh so you were closer to him and dipped his head to lick and tease at your nipples. Your whimpers only increased. He kissed you all over your chest and neck, making sure to leave a few marks. Your head was thrown back, your eyes glazed as you sought your pleasure. Your whines were increasing in tempo and pitch, you were close. 

“Ask me for permission to come,” Crocodile drawled.

“Please, Sir, may I come?” you answered quickly, not stopping your movements. He wanted to reward you tonight. 

“Yes, you may.” You keened and bucked faster against his thigh, rocking your hips in small circles. He could tell the moment you came undone, he could feel your pussy spasm through his pants. He watched you ride out the high, face contorted in pleasure. He was close himself, but tonight was not for him. After finishing you needed a moment’s rest. You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing heavily. A moment later, he picked you up and situated you on his other thigh.

“Good girl, how well you’ve done. Look at the mess you’ve made on me,” he said, motioning to the wet spot on his slacks. You reddened but still smiled at him as he enveloped you in his arms. He wrapped you in a nearby blanket off his couch, allowing you to collapse against his broad chest. He relit his cigar and sat peacefully smoking. His rock hard cock would wait for later.

“Thank you, Sir. May I ask you one question?”

“Of course.”

“Can we…do this again sometime?” You seemed unsure of yourself, but Crocodile smiled kindly at you.

“My dear, clear your schedule for the night. And the next. And for the foreseeable future. After all, I am nothing if not an affectionate and sweet creature.” 

[arrowfleur]

✩‧₊˚ Redacted HC’s ✩‧

Part 2: Sam and Darlin’

Sam is very rarely, if ever, at his full potential because he doesn’t do live feedings unless he literally needs to.

Big time cuddlers, Sam’s cold body and Darlin’s warmth work wonders.

Although Sam is warmer than most vampires since he eats more food than most.

Very good cook too, he has a lot of family recipes from his grandma

Darlin’ can hold their own in the kitchen they’re just not that bothered about it, or eating in general.

They’re also always dehydrated asf, they only really drink water when they’re working out, other then that, they forget.

Darlin’ has bought Sam multiple tank tops that are too small for him.

One of them had ‘garlic’ bedazzled on it and they laughed at their own joke for the rest of the night after Sam put it on

They both like to do each others hair. Brushing it, washing it, shaving beards. They can’t get their hands off each other

Darlin’ sits directly on top of Sam often, even when the whole couch is empty. He’s practically a climbing frame.

Sam is closest to David’s height out of everyone in the pack, Darlin is pretty level with Asher.

Darlin’ calls Sam ‘Collin’s’ ‘sammy’ and ‘babe’ quite often but they’ve found themself saying ‘it’s Sam’ if someone calls him anything otherwise

Sometimes they both say it in unison

Darlin has picked up quite a lot of Sam’s language but it doesn’t fit quite as neatly with their accent.

After finding out what it means, they particularly enjoy saying ‘bless your heart’ and then smirking to Sam as if it’s some sort of inside joke just between them.

They both think each other to be the funniest thing to exist. Darlin’ will keel over giggling at the most mundane comments Sam makes.

The pack was rather surprised to find out how gossipy Sam can be. Angel, Babe and Ash were DELIGHTED.

But he will not tolerate bad words being said about his loved ones. And has on multiple occasions whipped out the dead-pan face with a ‘do you hear how stupid you sound?’ to someone who thought him a safe space for slander.

They play fight in the woods a lot. Hunting each other, whilst Darlin’s shifted. Sam figured he’d have to go easy on them the first time they did it but they are surprisingly sneaky for such a large creature.

Darlin’ pounced on sam once, not realising he was next to a hill and they both ended up with twigs in their hair cradling each other at the bottom, with the loudest belly laughs ever.

Sam uses Vaseline for everything. His bathroom mainly consists of that and old spice.

The first time Darlin’ teased him about it he just laughed and graciously reminded them of his ‘soft lips’ with an off guard kiss

Timberland hates to see Sam coming, he has oh so many boots

He’s surprisingly meticulous about what he buys and he has expensive taste

‘I’d rather spend the money now and have them last than have to buy ‘em again in a couple months’

Saying that, he probably couldn’t name a single designer.

Could care less about having the latest trend or product.

He orders clothes for Darlin’ as well. Mainly basics. It took them a while to realise when their clothes started taking up more and more space in their closet.

Darlin’ is more than happy to wear the same pair of ripped black jeans over and over but they do have a fashion sense.

And if they absolutely HAVE to, they will show out.

When they were younger they had a very 2000’s aesthetic and it’s never completely left them.

The same way they will never get rid of their Ed hardy t-shirts

Sam likes marmalade

Darlin’ once surprised Sam with breakfast in bed, which he tried his best to be grateful for but all he could think about were crumbs in the bed l.

Darlin’ realised their mistake and they moved it to the couch as a compromise.

Darlin’ has a journal but it’s just filled with random sketches and funny things they thought of. They’re very private about it though

When they first met, almost all of Darlin’s socks had holes in

Darlin LOVES the Wildlife they get to see at Sam’s house. They have tried to befriend dears and foxes many, many times.

They also know a strangely large amount of bird breeds

Sam has a strange hatred for bagels

Darlin’ bought Sam the new f-zero game as soon as it came out

Sam used to have a German Shepard named Fido

Darlin’ still goes back to their old apartment every week to take their elderly neighbour grocery shopping.

Darlin’ quit smoking once they’d settled with Sam

He never asked them too, but they want a long life with him

They still have a packet for when they’re stressed but baby steps

Darlin’ uses the amount of buttons Sam’s flannels have to their ADVANTAGE when they’re making out

And God they love his lap and his thighs and his neck and his beard and his smile and nose and hands and voice and and and and

Sorry l bout that one I miss my husband

Anyways that’s all and here’s my proof I got them second, not that it really matters but anyway

[ofallthingsnasty]

What one piece characters do you think would be into petplay? Either way, being the pet, or forcing someone to be theirs?

When you sent this, I immediately started typing up a storm about Doffy and Arlong - but to be real, I've written so much about pet play and those two that it feels kind of stale to simply repeat myself... So let me link my thirst masterlist in reference to them and talk about others for once, haha 😅

characters: mihawk, boa, sanji, zoro, kid tw: pet play, mostly consensual but also one entry for noncon petplay, minors dni word count: 1.3k

So let’s start with the ones who enjoy it consensually!

One that comes to mind is Mihawk. Classy. Refined. Loyal. Someone who is all about a 24/7 dynamic - to him, it’s not a kink, it’s a lifestyle. He’s a busy man who enjoys his time off, who loves nothing more than you waiting bare and on your knees whenever he returns from a longer trip, who wants to lead gently and have someone follow eagerly. He doesn’t want to whittle down your resolve, he wants to teach you simply because you desire to; and he wants to be as good to you as you are to him. He is all about rules and rewards and he is one thing that many aren’t: fair. He doesn’t provoke you, doesn’t tease you until you lash out, doesn’t punish due to arbitrary, fictional rules, doesn’t withhold rewards - he is very by-the-book and correct, but also kind. Of course, Mihawk expects a certain level of maturity and tranquility from his partner, but he can forgive transgressions when needed. Whenever you misbehave, lash out, don’t act like you’re supposed to - there is a reason for that, a reason he’ll identify and address. Doesn’t mean you won’t get punished for it - but he is more than understanding. Everyone deserves a bad day, maybe two, and everyone should be heard. All in all, a very kind owner, one that makes play almost cozy. If you want to feel like you’re thoroughly loved, utterly adored and valued - he is the man for you. If you’re obedient.

Boa Hancock is also someone to consider. She isn’t as refined as Mihawk - given that she slips into treating you like a pet without really being aware of the dynamic Frankly, she couldn’t even call herself your owner if she wanted to - no matter the context, she despises that word and any iterations of it. Not with her past, her trauma, her deepest, darkest fears of her and her people falling prey to others ever again. She doesn't own you (never will) - but that doesn’t mean that she won’t treat you like a prized possession an awful lot. It’s just that she’s entirely and unpredictably unconventional about it. There are no rules. There are no punishments. There is only Boa and her never-ending adoration. And yet - you will feel just like a little dog, a cat, maybe even a colorful bird she keeps hemming and hawing over. You’re her partner, best friend, plush toy all in one; you soothe, you calm and you delight her. You are truly unique to her - and she’d be a fool to let you slip through her fingers.  Under her care, you’ll be nothing but horribly spoiled. Anything you could ever ask for, anything you might just even think of wanting - you’ll have it. And then some. Really, you don’t even need to throw temper tantrums, you’ll just have to pout a little and you’ll have whatever you desire in no time. In turn, she wants you to love her, fully and wholly - and to hang off her arm, be by her side, share her bed pretty much all day long. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder - not for Boa, though. Constant company, more like. Really, if you’re okay with being glued to her side and treated like someone’s purse dog (including gaudy costumes, mind you!) then Boa is the way to go. There are definitely worse picks out there. 

Now, on to the ones who enjoy being the pet. Sanji and Zoro are up there, both for different reasons. Sanji - well, he’s Sanji. He’ll do anything, try anything, indulge your every whim simply because it makes you happy. And if you want a little puppy by your feet, want to spoil him rotten, want him to watch you with lovestruck eyes with his chin on your knee? Who exactly is he to say no? There are certainly worse ways to love someone, especially if the trade-off for utter devotion and obedience is ownership. He is yours. Belongs to you only. And vice versa. You only have to ask and you’ll have the most obedient little pet at your beck and call. Want to collar him? He’ll wear it with pride. Want him to sleep in a cage? Oh, he’ll cherish the moments he gets to spend in your bed even more. Want him to ask permission for every little thing he does? Why, nothing that would make him happier than that. I think it would be a way to heal for him, as well. A set of rules to go by, someone who manages the ins and outs of his daily life, unconditional, ever-encompassing love from someone who thinks he’s the apple of their eye? Let him get comfortable in this lifestyle and you’ll see him bloom. He craves love and even more so - security. Give him that and he'll be the best puppy you’ve ever had and hopefully will ever have. Just don’t be cruel or erratic, unjust punishments and mood swings taken out on him are not the way to go. Be firm, be strict - but be fair. Zoro, on the other hand, is someone who doesn’t exactly agree to the dynamic - but he’ll very much act like a dog for you. In all but name, he is your guard dog and you are his handler, the one who points their finger and tells him to attack- People will comment on it all the time, will have him red-faced and grumbly behind you. But he won’t even try to be less obvious about his need to protect you, won’t stop being your shadow for just a  moment. It’s just in his nature, he figures. The urge to protect you, to see you well, to know you save and sound - it nags at him, claws at him, doesn’t let him leave until he knows you are where you are supposed to be: by his side. Happy. Warm. And when you praise him? Scratch his ear just so while he’s napping on your lap? That man is in heaven, not a place he’d rather be. You are simply one of the very few things in life he values. (If you’re feeling extra cheeky, call him a good boy and see where it will get you. Certainly on your back and with him balls-deep inside of you, sputtering about how he’ll show animalistic, how you can have a dog if you want one so bad.)

Now, who likes to force pet play on you? Like I said, the uncrowned kings of that are Doflamingo and Arlong, and you’ll find plenty about that in my respective character tags here and here. But you know who’s another one to make you crawl on the floor, to have you eat slop out of a bowl instead of a proper meal on the table? Kid. Kid will. Not because it’s particularly hot to him - but because it just… happens? Sure, he’ll call you all sorts of animal names, all tailored to your appearance and demeanor - be it cow, bitch, pig, fucking mutt - but it’s not like he looks at you and decides that what you need is a collar. With time, you simply turn into his pet (or worse, his crew’s), with every day you lose a little bit of humanity until you might as well be the bed in his quarters, just another piece of inventory. And the more you do, the more he finds himself enjoying it. It’s like he’s playing it out in reverse: first, you only get to be naked and on all fours to make his little quest for free use easier, then he notices how lovely your ass would look with a tail plug dangling from it. There is neither much care nor thought poured into the whole endeavor, either - one day you’ll simply get a massive collar and a new nickname. If you’re lucky, he won’t hook your nose and call you a little sow. But don’t count on that.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Oh these two idiots are both so gone.

Ooh, "creating art is about exploring what you like" is a nice line. So often we put too much into feeling like creativity has to end up with a good product, and less about what it can teach us about ourselves.

I like how this show talks about art. And New is making it so clear here that he does put a part of himself in all of his shows, whatever people might think. Respect.

And we're normalizing taking breaks and that you can't be productive and creative all the time! Fabulous.

We love a queen who makes the most of her background time.

I mean, valid question Peem, but also - pot, kettle, etc, etc.

Oh god, their actual boyfriend era is going to end me.

You know what I really love about this Phum/Peem scene? They're making it clear that mutual attraction is just one piece of the relationship puzzle. But the friendship still needs to be there, the caring when someone is having a bad day, and being there to pick them up. So many BLs gloss over the mutual support part of romantic relationships in favor of the swoony bits, but this is the kind of thing that makes a couple seem likely to actually last.

Also what does it say about BLs that I was so relieved they actually rolled up their pant legs at the pool? (Of course they still end up wet in the end, but it's the principle of the thing!)

Phum is just 100% always thirsty for Peem and I respect it.

Haha, love Q being all "hands off my baby, stat".

And they're communicating so openly! My sweeties.

Omg, omg, Fang trying to teach himself to express tenderness to Tan, I cannot.

Just go slow Fang, or you may kill this man with happiness!

Aaaaaah, not Pun finding a little bird and wanting to help it, going to Chain (of course), AND naming it Penguin.

I am already at lethal levels of cuteness overload, and we haven't even gotten to the FangTan scene yet.

Staawwwp.

Lolol, of course he got sick, he got wet for 30 seconds. But again we get the subversion, we're paying tribute to the sick trope, but not fully engaging! Heh, this show is so fun.

Has anyone else noticed the slight tone shift for Phum when he's talking to Peem? There's a new softness to it and it's adorable.

Toey, no, no crying wolf to your boyfriend!

But the pencil case thing is adorable.

I think the Peem and Q friendship chemistry might be my favorite in the whole show.

Lol, not Peem letting slip he slept with Phum last night!

Beer, you are such a champion. Good wingmanning, while also not excusing Phum's bad behaviors.

Oh, baby Phum being sent away, that's heart-breaking. No wonder he has walls like that.

I am loving these reveals with Fang. He's such an internal character, so we are unpeeling the layers slowly. But seeing how annoyed he is to not be able to reach Tan, and how fast Tan is able to make him smile again, makes it so clear how much he really needs him.

And the way he smiles so big when he thinks no one can see, but goes right back to pouty face with Tan because it gets him the attention he craves...

Whoever dressed Q for this series, I love you.

Phum going from self-doubt to full steam ahead the moment he gets reassurance his feelings are returned is delightful to see.

Omg, domestic Fang and Tan. But also Fang, you can learn to cook other things, y'know?

Lolol, Fang absolutely loves Tan's antics, it's so freaking adorable.

Aou and Boom always frickin bring it, we thank you for your service boys.

Also more trope play! Tan holding Fang down in the cliche way, but Fang still showing agency and not playing the blushing maiden. Perfect.

Ok, I liked the Kluen scene. He's being shown as a real person with a life of his own, he's not just the "rival". And Peem is being more straightforward with him.

Hahaha, Chain short-circuiting more and more as Pun gets closer.

MATT, WHAT THE HELL?! You do not interfere with my crumbs, dammit!!

Omg, not Chain just blurting out that he likes being shipped with Pun.

I love that everyone is shocked by Phum except for Beer, who is just like "yup".

I do typically hate public declarations, but I will let it go here, because the friend group is the key to the whole series.

Also, Pun is drunk again, so Chain better be ready for some biting! Chomp, chomp.

[swampstew]

Eustass Kid, G-55 ~ Cockwarming

Summary: Modern monster au, Part 2 of Eustass Kid as a vampire and you’re his favorite familiar. Getting Gomez Addams level of love and devotion from the tulip♥

Warnings: Spicy! Dom/Master Vampire Kid, Sub/Familiar Reader - long term relationship cause I’m in my feelings, implied creampie, cockwarming for love, mostly fluff story Word Count: 512

Eustass Kid never considered himself the type to be tied down. With immortality and all, it was depressing to tie himself down to a mortal when their life would be extinguished as soon as he batted an eye.

Blink.

50 years could pass by and he’d just…pick up and move on. The only real friends he had where people like himself or other creatures he’d had passing interactions with. He had his best buddies and his comforts – he didn’t need a whole lot. Sure he had familiars in the past to entertain him for short periods but he always let them go after he lost interest. He wasn’t so much of an asshole that he would lead someone on for longer than he needed to. Humans age quickly as the decades pass by.

Then he met you.

You changed everything for him. He couldn’t imagine a single moment without you. Wouldn’t consider it an option. So when you had been discussing your dreams together and you told him you dreamt of getting married – he knew he had to do it. Anything you wanted he would move heaven and earth to give you.

High on the addiction of you completely, he didn’t really register what it meant until months into your marriage. When you had tattooed your arm with something sentimental of him. He decided he couldn’t bear to live on without you. Didn’t want to try. Maybe after a millennium he’d feel different but for right now, all he wanted was the two of you against the world forever.

Offspring could be a possibility but that was its own process so he figured he’d bring that up in the future. For now, getting consent to turn you is his first priority.

Kid was disturbed from his imagination when he felt your head move on his chest. A smile grew on his lipstick stained face. He loved holding you so much. If he ever had to die, he hoped he would die in your arms. You’re the last thing and the first thing he wants to wake up to.

He would worship the ground you walked on each day for the rest of your lives if you’d let him.

You stirred slightly with a hum and he closed his eyes as your body shifted. Contentment and pleasure rippled through him as your lower body clenched on him as you stretched. After the last round of sex, you had passed out on his chest before he could pull out and he was so comfortable with the position that he stayed right where he was. Feeling happy and perfect.

Kid could tell when you woke up and he could tell you were aroused again when instead of making yourself known, you tried to subtly shift your hips and pleasure yourself with his cock. As if he’d miss the perfect feeling of your pussy hugging his cock with that delightful grip.

Yes, he’d ask your consent to turn you. After this next round when he can show you a million reasons why you should say yes.

We won :) Blackout Bingo is over and now we have the Halloween story that will post tomorrow! Sorry about the two late tiles, shit happens.

Halloween Day Party and séance gone wrong scenario

[a-libra-writes]

Ello! may I please request some of the Lackadaisy characters reacting to a ridiculously tall male reader joining their crew?- like hit their head on every doorframe tall?/jk- but in all seriousness, maybe like 8ft or something?

okay im going for like 7ft or so because that SLIGHTLY more reasonable but not by much; idgaf tho this is funny. Also if you will please imagine this as a lanky ass oriental cat a la Pangur of pangur-and-grim fame. also featuring lots of bi cats, because I say so.

Lots under the cut!

♣️Rocky - Oh!! That's a big one! He makes endless "how's the weather up there" jokes (some are so weird) and has lots of ... stories ("St. Louis' very own creature from the river bottoms, only arising when the fog is heaviest!"); it really brings him back to his circus barker days. The first time you picked him up he was momentarily stunned, also he may or may not have climbed up you like a kitten when something startled him. It only happened once, okay? He's also fond of swatting at your absurdly long tail, as in it distracts him mid-sentence and he just has to take a swipe. Look, this probably won't awaken anything in him.

♣️Freckle - First thought? Terrifying, even when you bonked your head pretty bad on the doorframe. Okay, well, you were a little less scary after the third time. He's used to being smaller than most men, but something about you just towering is nothing short of creepy, especially if you have a more tough or intense personality. If you're a kinder soul, Freckle relaxes much faster. When you both have to pile into the back of the car, he feels really awkward about how you have to contort and twist yourself. Jeez, that doesn't look comfortable ... and somehow it makes him feel a lot smaller, which he doesn't appreciate.

♣️Ivy - Omiiigossshhh, the girls at school are not gonna believe this. She beelines to you right away, delighted with the novelty she's discovered. Naturally she wants to dance, and she'd be so shocked and delighted if you were elegant in spite of your lankiness - that'll get her a crush right away. Don't worry, if you're more clumsy, you're still cute! She thinks everything you do is "cute", even if you have the face of a thug and the body of a furry noodle. Having to scoot into cars, towering over the bar when you sit on a stool, your shirt sleeves nearly going to your elbows? Cute! She'd love to buy you something real fancy that fit, she just knows you'd look sharp.

♣️Mitzi - Oh. Oh my. Not her usual taste, but with the right clothes and some pomade, well, you'd be a proper gentleman. Mitzi is already plotting to get you a nice suit made, and good naturedly notes you ought to eat more or the wind will knock you right over. She already feels small next to Atlus and Viktor, but that's doubled with you. Sometimes it makes her a little uncomfortable, but she knows you don't mean to cause the discomfort. If she got you a real nice suit and a gun, you'd be an excellent guard for when she's out and about ...

♣️Viktor - He tries to recall the last time he was this much shorter than someone ... When he was twelve, perhaps? He feels zero intimidation from you, though. Viktor's confident he could snap you in half if need be. Hm, if they got some muscle on you, you might be able to handle some serious firepower... He thinks on it. Oh, and now he isn't the only one having to dodge doorframes. If you're a less violent-inclined person, many times he's growled at you to stop being so slack-jawed and try to look scary, especially when you both are supposed to be guarding.

♣️Zib - Wow yeah okay this is awakening something in him for sure. The musician gets a little hot under the collar when you stand really close and he has to look up, or god forbid, you bend down to his eye level. He has no idea why he's feeling both aroused and terrified, and what that's supposed to mean. Once you said "good boy" as a joke and he nearly tripped and fell off the stage. He's this hopeless even when you're a dork; if you're actually a smooth operator, he's doomed.

♣️Atlas - Yeah, it's not hard to figure out how you stood out to him. You were offered a job, and though you're much lankier than a triggerman out to be, Atlas has plans. Just some fattening up, some practice with a gun and a well-made suit (your Christmas present, in fact), and you cut quite a shadowy figure. The suit is probably the finest one you own, and the only clothing that's fit in years. Mitzi helped choose the color.

🏵️Serafine - She's intrigued right away, which is no surprise. Most people notice you right away, and it's even better if you work for the Marigold gang and she gets to have plenty of time to flirt and bother and amuse you. Serafine is doubly entertained if you're a more clumsy or nervous sort. She loves calling you "le fantôme" or "le boogeyman", and very much admires when you use your height to frighten someone they're having a "talk" with. She has absolutely grabbed your long-ass tail to get your attention.

🏵️Nico - Listen. He's been with men before - not as much as women, mind you, and he's always preferred those who are smaller than him, which is most. But look. You're a tree, he's a squirrel. No shame, you're cute and he'll say it. He can probably pick you up just fine (which he's very proud of) and laughs if it embarrasses you. He's very interested in how you might fight, and has given you several tips on how to use your unusual size to your advantage when going hand-to-hand with someone.

🏵️Mordecai - Yes this is definitely awakening something and he doesnt want to think hard about it also why is EVERY damn person around him a tree -- You drive him up a wall for many reasons. You slouch all the time, your clothes never fit right, you don't carry a gun that would work best for your long fingers. The Savoys joke about you being Mordecai's "project" because he keeps fussing over you. Though they must say, it's a lot easier to get information out of their targets when they have Mordecai's signature glare and a terrifying cryptid looming over him.

⛰️Wick - Oops! All those feelings he's repressed since boarding school are coming out. Note you could be awkwardly trying to get through a doorway or climb out of a car, with clothes that don't fit quite right or trying to finesse a gun that's too small and he is just, totally enamored. If you have more of a scary demeanor - or you put on that act when you're working as Mitzi's bodyguard - then he's still enamored, just with a dash of fear. So. That's confusing.

[utilitycaster]

So now that I've made all my choices for Heroes of the Veilguard, let's talk through them, because there's a lot of good, a little that could be done better, and some general thoughts. Obviously, huge spoilers, and also I'm only in act 2 so don't send ME spoilers.

Of relevance, and I'll bring this up too in specific cases where it makes sense: I'm playing a human Mourn Watch Warrior Rook who is dating Bellara, and the narrative has very much been of someone who is proud and respectful of her own heritage, but has really loved traveling and has in particular fallen in love with Arlathan and Bellara's passion for it. Also, I saved Treviso, so that impacts Lucanis and Neve's stories.

Harding: I feel like this one is sort of set up within the narrative, with both the Solas memories and the conversation in which Lucanis and Harding talk and she reveals that because she was a small dwarven girl in a human society, she became very pleasant and agreeable as a defense mechanism, so when we're fighting the embodiment of her anger it felt very natural to embrace that and accept it, but it is also true that Harding's compassion and friendliness means a lot. I took her or Bellara on literally every recruitment quest (though in one case that was accidental tbf) because they're the friendly teammates. I have a personal bias towards letting women be angry but also this might be informed by the fact that I ran the Solas Memory quest pretty early on and not everyone does.

Lucanis: I must admit, this one is one of two that feel the most unambiguous in having a right answer. I don't think imprisoning Illario, if you have the option, feels right. Despite all he did, he is the only family Lucanis has other than Caterina, and the only other Dellamorte of his generation to survive. I think on some level if you've tamed Spite you need to really make peace and take the generous option (which to be clear is still public humiliation).

Taash: So I loved the quest, it's probably one of my favorites in terms of vibes, but I actually found the decision a little lackluster because their mother dies, so the choice of whether to embrace Qunari vs. Rivaini heritage feels like it's not a terribly weighty one as neither has serious consequences. Both have room for them as a nonbinary person, and ultimately I don't think Shathann's feelings on Qunari/Rivaini matter after death because what's important is she accepted Taash's gender. I feel, tbh, like Taash's big decision is the gender identity one, and that shouldn't be a player dictated decision (I know you can encourage it more or less but I don't think you can stop them, nor should you be able to - you can just alienate them), so the decision you're left with is eh. (I don't actually mind the idea of a binary choice between ethnicity/country because like...on some level, assimilation or not assimilating either is one big decision or a thousand little ones constantly, and it's hard to depict the latter, and even then you have a mentality towards it; it's really just both feel equally valid and not that consequential). Especially because the "Big Bad Kills My Relative With A Mighty Slam" gets used in Bellara's story too I wish Shathann had survived but been injured and Taash knew they'd have to help their mother for a time post-Veilguard and that influenced the decision.

Emmrich: Also an incredible quest but I am sorry there's no world in which, after Emmrich is so utterly delighted by Manfred speaking for the first time, and so broken up by his death, in a quest where Manfred's participation is the key to its success, that I pick lichdom. Like I was already eh on it even as a Mourn Watch character but like, I do feel this might be by far the clearest decision. Also I don't know if it's just coincidental and not a direct trigger but Emmrich's date with Strife comes up immediately after. Idk I feel like if your fear is of your own death it isn't much better to have to survive hundreds and thousands of deaths, especially since Emmrich is so excited to be out in the world.

Bellara: 1. why is her quest so sad why are you making my girlfriend cry 2. fuck the beam puzzle for real and 3. This is ABSOLUTELY the hardest choice for me (though I can't speak to Neve's). There's a really strong argument for both of them - destroying the archive prevents another situation like Cyrian's from happening, even if the loss of knowledge is a blow, whereas keeping it runs the same risk. I like keeping it; I think it speaks to the idea that Bellara's arc is learning to trust her own judgment even when there is a possibility things could go badly, and I can see a future for her story (at this time anyway) where she grows into more leadership in the Veil Jumpers and can find good future stewards of this information! But destroying it isn't a bad choice at all. Literally one of the most balanced, and I don't think this changes if you are less connected to Bellara or the Veil Jumpers, at least not in a specific way. I could see Mourn Watch going either way too (is there a system of stewardship in place? Because dangerous information is still information but it needs that, perhaps the Veil Jumpers need to add that element) but like, I think the Wardens grappling with the consequences of hiding darker truths is an interesting dimension as well; Shadow Dragons similarly could go either towards elven liberation or "we don't want the Venatori getting this," and so on. I think most characters either would be torn or wouldn't have a deep investment either way and so it's always a difficult choice.

Davrin: This one was funny because my Rook (has fallen in love with Bellara and Arlathan and Dalish culture) is like GIVE THE GRIFFONS TO ARLATHAN but I as a person lean slightly towards Wardens. I think this one is really dependent on how you played Rook (unlike Bellara's which is always a very difficult one) but in some vast cosmic sense there is no correct answer, only one that seems correct given Rook's perspective, which is also great.

Neve: I don't get a choice because I picked Treviso; I believe if you don't, she isn't forced to work with the Threads. I think that would be interesting because I can still see her making that choice regardless; her pre-dragon attack quests establish that she works with both Templars and Threads depending on her goals. I will also say that I feel Aelia as a final boss fight is easily the weakest of the final showdowns but the lead in (especially the blood puppets and ESPECIALLY Hal. If they had killed Hal I would have rioted.) is so strong as is Neve's general "I am FINE" throughout (she isn't) that I don't mind. I also wonder if that is the point - that the Venatori are, in the end, simply mortal mages who are with a knack for cultivating fear and inflammatory sentiment, like any nationalist and authoritarian group. They're not demons or undead mecha or dragons or the manifestation of your own anger or forgotten evil gods; they are just shitty people.

[tarotofzhivamoon]

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💌Love letter from your person💌

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Pause and take a big breath in, then choose the pile you feel the most drawn to🦋

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Pile 1

“I want to go above and beyond for you, on any level there is, physical intimacy, emotional intimacy, just give you the best of the best that there is on this earth and in the heavens, on this whole wide Universe, I would truly do anything to see you happy, to see you fulfilled and secure with me because that’s one of my priorities. I want to give you the best I have because I also know that you are so willing to show and give me the same love, appreciation, affection that I want to give you. You are everything to me, the moon to my stars, the perfect partner that just completes me so effortlessly, so organically, so magically, it all just feels like a fairytale when I am with you and there’s nothing else that I would want more than to be loved by you. I don’t want you to ever change because you are just perfect the way that you are right now, I love you with every cell in my being and I am so delighted that you have chosen me to be the one you love as well. We did have our fair share of setbacks, we didn’t always know what we know now about each other because we came from different backgrounds, there’s no relationship that doesn’t have it’s own little plot twists that could make or break it, but I am so glad that ours just got us closer together to one another, closer to actually realizing what we need to compromise on and we’ve managed to actually reassess our expectations to simply find that beautiful balance that was going to result in a really mesmerizing happiness within, for both of us. I actually know that if you were to look around yourself, you might find better options than me, you might see someone that just gets you faster than I did, but you don’t understand how grateful I am that you actually never cared for those other options, that you actually chose me and you are now standing in your decision every single day and I just hope that —

If you enjoyed this reading, the full, in depth reading is available to read on P@tr30n which you can find in my masterlist pinned post. Thank you so much for your support💗

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Pile 2

“From the moment I saw you I wanted to give you the world, I knew that you were a blessing that the Universe has sent me and I was so appreciative to have even met someone like you because it was like I was handed the perfect gift at the perfect time and you were that perfect gift for me. I know that materialistic things do not really interest you, I really admired about you the fact that I can’t “buy” your love and that I had to actually work hard, to put in the effort to have someone like you in my life instead of just you being so easily obtained and honestly this opportunity to have you in my life has absolutely made me feel as though I finally received everything that I have always wanted, you are the one thing that I have prayed and wished for night after night, day after day and it’s just so amazing to have you here, to have your attention, to see how much thought, affection and care you put in your gestures towards me, everything that you’re giving me is just from your heart. I have learned so much about myself next to you, it’s like you have perfectly mirrored back to me everything that I needed to see about myself that I wasn’t really aware of before and I know you understand that two people can’t simply be in proximity to one another all the time, be a pretty big part of each other’s lives everyday and now experience some bit of friction because even though i feel that our connection is somewhat ethereal, we’re still human beings at the end of the day and we are going to disagree with one another at times. What I loved the most about this and about you is that when this tension between us arises, you have been able to make me feel as though I could share my feelings and thoughts with you, without being afraid of anything because there was such safety between us and I know that in the end we usually resolve any conflict that arises with such an elegance because we just work together, somehow. You always had it in you to —

If you enjoyed this reading, the full, in depth reading is available to read on P@tr30n which you can find in my masterlist pinned post. Thank you so much for your support💗

Likes and rbs are appreciated🦋

Dividers by Kawaii-Lau on Tumblr🦋

[upsilambic]

[Back in *checks notes* May, Writing Prompts posted: 

“What do you mean why did I do this? I did it because I love you,” your girlfriend said confusedly, as if she wasn’t clutching the severed head of another human in her hand.”

My first thought was that this was a girl who belonged in the Varia. So I ran with it. The prompt only shows up indirectly. Humor, No Pairings, T]

So Your (Ex) Girlfriend is an Ax Murderer 

(Dating is hard enough as it is. It's even worse as a member of an elite, slightly eccentric, assassination squad. Good thing there's a built in, supportive (?) Family to help pick up the pieces.)

It was the sound of crying that drew Lussuria into the common room. Contrary to popular belief, crying wasn't an unusual occurrence at Varia HQ. Oh, sometimes it was a grunt who managed to upset Boss-darling and lived to tell the tale. Most of the time it was from new recruits who were suddenly rethinking their life choices. Those tears, though, they were largely reserved for the training grounds. No, if it was coming from the common room, it could only be one person.

Lussuria peeked in, and sure enough, there she was sprawled face down on the sofa. Boy troubles.  He would bet his boa on it.

Poor thing. Lussuria felt instinctively protective of his protegé. On paper, she was a total catch. Deianira was a key member of his Sun Squad medical team for her impeccable ability to not further maim their patients - even when they deserve it! Such a delightful bedside manner~ Not to mention, she could wield a battle ax with the same meticulous precision as her scalpel. So well-rounded! And she was cute as a button to boot, if he could say so himself. Lussuria just couldn't understand why Dee’s relationships didn't work out.

No, that was a lie. He absolutely knew why. It didn't mean he didn't think it was completely fair, though. People could be so judgemental! Everyone has their own silly, little quirks, right? 

The thing with Dee was that she had so much love and passion to give but had an unfortunate habit of placing her affections with the wrong people. Her love language was also something, well, not necessarily an acquired taste but more…niche as it were. And that’s where she really got into trouble.

Lussuria often thought of Deianira as something like a cat leaving behind dead birds as gifts to their beloved human. Unfortunately, the objects of her ardor typically reacted to such gifts just as badly if not worse. It never did bode well for her love life.

It was all very sad of course. Buuuuuut. The stories she told were better than television. All maternal feelings aside, Lussuria was dying to know what happened this time.

“Dee?”  A pause in the sniffling let him know that she heard. The hand that was blindly flapped in his direction let him know he was needed. Lussuria didn't need to be asked twice as he hurried over and perched on the arm of the sofa. “I am here, sweetpea. You just tell Mamma Luss everything.” 

To the casual observer the tale of woe was largely unintelligible.  Lussuria, on the other hand, nodded along, masterfully interpreting the pillow-muffled sounds, squeaks, and wet snuffles.

“Mmhmm mmhmm, I do remember you were seeing someone new. I seem to recall you telling me you were ready to take things to the next level~ 

Uh huh. What? Oh, tissue! Sorry, hun, here you go. Take your time. 

Well certainly it's natural to want to do nice things for the ones we love! And what…um…what nice thing did you decide to do? Yes,yes as one does, of course. 

Such a clean cut! Oh ho! You never fail to impress~ You're welcome. Now who was the gentleman? He was, hmmm? Say, run that name past me one more time, would you? Got it. Thanks, love.  Then what happened?

 OH. HE. DID. NOT.”

“And then he ran awaaaaaaaayy,” Dee wailed. That her ex did so while screaming was simply understood and didn't need to be said.

“There there, love.” Lussuria passed over another tissue that was gratefully accepted. As Deianira wiped her eyes, Luss tapped his index finger against his cheek, working out a thought. “Remind me, how long had the two of you been seeing each other?”

There was a pause as Deianira blew her nose. “It was our third date,” she mumbled into her tissue.

The tapping stopped. “Dee, sweetie. I hate to point it out while you're hurting, but gifting the literal head of your lover's enemy is something you might want to save for when your relationship is a tiiiiiny bit more established.”

Deianira slowly swung her legs around as she listened and pushed herself into a seated position. She lifted her face to Lussuria. It was puffy and streaked with runny mascara. Aw, cupcake. Girl was a mess but nothing a mother couldn't love. Lussuria tenderly squooshed those cheeks between his well-manicured hands.

“...Emmemee?” Deianira asked through a fishy pout.  She blinked heavily, as if emerging from her fog of despair and pulled back out of Lussuria's hands. “Maybe not an enemy per se…” She stopped and shook her head and heaved a sigh. “ No, I know. You're right. God, I'm such an idiot! I just...You know, I really thought we had something.” Dee gestured vaguely, trying to capture the intangible before giving up and resting her cheek on Lussuria's thigh. “I thought he'd understand and see the depth of my love.”

A derisive snort from the corner of the room sent Lussuria's head whipping around.“Not one word out of you!” he scolded the culprit in hushed tones. “I mean it!”

Squalo, however, didn't look nearly as chastened as Lussuria would have liked. He didn't look chastened at all. “Please,” scoffed Captain Sensitivity. Oh, his entire manner was so annoyingly unrepentant. “This is hardly news. She goes through a breakup like every oth-”

Lussuria's scandalized gasp cut him off. “Honestly! Where is your heart?”

“Heh. Funny story about that...HEEEY!” Squalo was forced to duck as Lussuria chucked a decorative pillow at his head.

“That's not what I meant, and you know it.”

Squalo sneered in silent response before shifting focus back to his laptop. That was the goal at any rate, which considering the other occupants of the room was easier said than done. Yes, the situation was annoying. Yes, he could leave, but he was here first, dammit. It was the principle of the thing.

He sighed heavily through his nose when he heard Luss try to subtly clear his throat at him but otherwise Squalo refused to engage. 

Then came the stage whispers.

“Squ-chan…. 

Squ?…

Squ…Squ…Squ…

Squaaaaaloooo!”

“WHAT?!”

He watched Luss out of the corner of his eye making frantic shushing signs and pointing to the lacrimose lump on the sofa. As if he could possibly disturb let alone offend her. Squalo leveled an “are you kidding me” look at his colleague.  Deianira wouldn't notice if a herd of rhinoceros suddenly barrelled into the common room and started yodeling. She was barely into Stage Two of the recovery process, meaning she was now sitting upright, staring into the middle distance, and clutching her ax to her chest like it was the world's deadliest comfort toy. Virtually nothing existed outside of her bubble right now.

Lussuria pursed his lips at him and adjusted his sunglasses before signing <I need you to look something up.>

<Look what up?> Squalo knew, of course, but he wasn't going to make it easy.

 Lussuria knew he knew too and gave an impatient huff. He pointed at Deianira, mimed having his chopped off, and signed the poor bastard's name.

<Fuck off I'm busy.> Another pillow came sailing over with great force. This time it connected. The resulting “VOOII!” was positively balm for Lussuria’s exasperated soul. That's right, Squ. Boss wasn't the only one with a pair of guns. Luss daintily flicked a lock of hair back in place and raised an eyebrow.

<Look up the name, dear. If you please.>

<FINE!> Squalo grumbled to himself about it, but he did do as asked. A moment later, he signed back an affirmative. The headless one was indeed in their system. Apparently, someone else had wanted him dead.

Lussuria delightedly clapped the tips of his fingers together. Goody. That should make cleanup a bit easier this time around. He turned his attention back to Deianira and began dabbing at her face with a tissue.

“Dee? Dee~ee,” Lussuria sang, trying to pull her attention back to the present. “Now why don't you come with me? I've got a beautiful cake cooling in the kitchen that is begging for some decadent chocolate frosting. That might be just the thing to make today a bit brighter!”

Deianira’s eyelids fluttered and she gave a small smile. Feeling encouraged, Lussuria pressed on.

“Aaand~ We'll chat about whether we can't just bill this ungrateful ex for your beautiful handiwork.” This time Dee giggled.

If one didn't know any better, that giggle could easily be classified as “cute”. Squalo did know better and grimaced at the sound. He turned his attention back to the sofa. 

Lussuria was cooing over Deianira’s change in mood. Deianira was. Well. Deianira’s eyes had gone unnaturally wide with interest, her pupils fully dilated. The corner of her smile twitched slightly as she took in Lussuria’s suggestion.

Levi dubbed this particular look of hers “creepy”. While Squalo wouldn't admit out loud to siding with Levi about anything, he was inclined to agree. When Deianira got like this, Squalo half expected her to climb into a window and start making clicking noises at the birds outside.

“I…might have some additional ideas of my own to make sure he pays,” Dee coyly offered up after her moment of contemplation.

“Clever girl. I knew that you would, and I can't wait to hear them!”

“Oh Luss, you're the best! This will be such fun!”

“I know!”

Squalo shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as the two of them clasped hands and squealed. Stage Two was evidently complete.

The promise of baked goods never failed to summon Belphegor. This instance was no exception. Bel had made his entrance while Lussuria was still coaxing Dee. Not wanting to look too eager, he flopped into an armchair and began to scroll through his phone with practiced indifference. No one in the common room was fooled, with the exception of Dee who hadn't noticed anything. Belphegor bided his time until the two suns left before he got up to pester Squalo for details.

“So what was it this time?” Bel asked as he leaned against Squalo's chair and tried to read over his shoulder. "Burned out car?"

“Severed head.” A scowl formed on Squalo's face in response to the intrusion. Without looking up, he used his right hand to change the angle of his laptop and his left to push back the brat's face. "NOW QUIT HOVERING!"

Bel was completely unperturbed as he danced out of range of the metal hand. He let out a low whistle and started making his way to the door. “Must have had it bad for this one.”

Squalo rolled his eyes. “I guess.” He turned around when he heard Bel's footsteps. “Hey, where are you going, brat?”

"Oh, now you want me to stay? Too late, peasant. You're no fun and the Prince wants cake and gossip.”

“I don't want you to stay,” Squalo scoffed. “I want you to do something.”

“I don't have to.” Belphegor gave an imperious toss of his head. “I'm a prince, not an errand boy,” he declared, but he caught the file thrown at him all the same.

“You're going to the kitchen anyway. Take that file and give it to Miss Man Destroyer.” 

Belphegor smirked, his curiosity piqued. “Shi shi shi, that's cold even for you, Fish Face. You're gonna send her out with a broken heart?” Bel made a show of clutching at pearls. Squalo huffed in annoyance.

“We've got shit to do, you know! How about you try taking an interest in that?” 

Belphagor dismissively waved off Squalo's critique and flipped through the file. “Be kinda funny if the peasant who put in the request was single, though.” He glanced over to see Squalo looking entirely too casual about opening his email. Bel's grin widened viciously. “Wait. Is he?”

Squalo mumbled something, refusing to look at him.

“He is!” Belphagor crowed. “How do you know?”

Squalo ground his teeth a minute before exploding, “FINE! I looked it up, alright!?”

Belphagor was nearly doubled over with his cackling. “Shi Shi shi, aww, I didn't know you were a matchmaker, Captain~” he wheezed.

Squalo launched one of the pillows Luss threw at him earlier straight at Belphagor’s head. Pillows being soft, however, it was not nearly as satisfying as he hoped it would be. It didn't even pause Bel's laughter.

“VOI I'M NOT!!” Squalo crossed his arms and irritably drummed his fingers. “But if she's going to keep doing this, we might as well point her in the right direction and get some damn work done around here.”

*Deianira is the name of one of Hercules's wives who accidentally killed him with a shirt. It was supposed to keep him faithful to her but was poisoned instead. Whoops. Her name can be translated as Man-Destroyer.

[ladynaberrie]

i'll wait it out (if you want)

Pairing: Kix x Translator!Reader

WC: 1k

Rating: T

Kix has talked to you a grand total of twice, but it's enough to let him know one thing: this can't end well.

AN: Hi....just been thinking about Kix a lot lol also kriff is such a silly word let them say fuck!!

part 1 part 2 part 3

sfw but mdni pls

Kix has already checked out by the time Rex introduces you to his unit. Instead, he’s mentally taking inventory of the med bay, making note of how many medpacs need to be restocked, how much bacta was used on their last mission and what are the odds he’ll need more this time. (Very low. It's just a simple relief mission).

He’s just one drop in a sea of faces, but he has to keep his vode alive. 

So when Rex says you’ll be joining them as a temporary translator (anti-droid sentiment prevents any protocol droids from entering the settlement of their upcoming relief trip), he pays just enough attention to remember your name and note that you're prettier than other nonclone GAR members.

Natborns weren’t that common among clones, but you were all scattered around; a crop of mechanics here, a couple of supplementary medics there, and a handful of translators and other admin-level members to fill any gaps. 

Kix tends to not pay them any mind, preferring to keep his head down and focus on what he needs to do. But he spares you a quick second glance before he fucks off to get everything done. He’ll try to stay within two clicks of you, in case you need help or anything.

Maybe one click.

“She didn’t have an actual injury, Kix. It was an injury of the heart.”

Kix certainly didn’t expect to have an actual conversation with you, and he certainly didn’t expect to be the cause of your laughter. He’s never been more grateful for his bucket, because his face is warm, and his mouth is open stupidly as he stares at you. How on earth does someone look so pretty while they laugh? It almost pisses him off. 

It was a simple mistranslation on his part. (His own fault for not utilizing your talents, and assuming he picked up the basics regarding medical care). If you had been anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, embarrassed, or anything other than awestruck at how your eyes glow in delight. 

Kix is partially in shock at how funny you find this, but he's not complaining.

Your laughter has rocketed to the top of a very short list containing his favorite things. He wishes Fives' humor rubbed off on him; he wants to make you laugh all the time.

Your giggles eventually die down, and you reach out, palm resting on his bicep. He knows he's imagining it, but he swears he can feel the heat of your skin through the unforgiving plastoid. What the actual fuck?

“Sorry. It was really cute, that’s all.” 

You drop your hand, sending him a small smile before trekking off towards a busier part of the settlement. 

Oh stars. 

He’s absolutely kriffed.

The trip back to Coruscant is somehow too short and too long, and the damn Resolute isn't big enough for Kix. Every corner he turns fills him with a sense of dread, every hallway, a narrow deathtrap that potentially ends with you blocking his path.

It's all in his head, and the paranoia and stress tie his stomach into knots. But Kix's conditioning and discipline keep him propelling forward.

If there was one thing Nala Se and those longnecks were good at, it was making sure Kix and his brothers could operate a maximum efficiency. No matter what weighed on any of them mentally.

By the time they enter Coruscant airspace, he's finally calmed down, finally able to get enough air in his lungs again. He's back to counting flexclamps, back to sorting synthflesh and kolto. It's methodical, easy, and soothes his brain in an annoying way.

"Kix!" your voice rings out.

His fingers pause over a stim-shot; he turns to look at you.

Kix's nerves are already pinched during missions thanks to Rex, Fives, and Hardcase. Why not let them fray before and after missions thanks to you? You're much nicer to look at and much nicer to listen to.

You clasp your hands behind your back, subtly shifting your weight on your feet. The whole movement strikes him as very... un-military. It kicks up something in his chest akin to affection.

"Just wanted to say goodbye since we're almost planetside." Kix blinks at you dumbly before nodding, trying to ignore the desire to slide on his helmet.

Your movement stills, eyes gliding over his face as your brows pinch slightly in worry. "Are you okay, Kix?" He nods instinctively, taking a breath to clear his head.

"Yes. In perfect condition. You know you don't need to say goodbye to every clone? Most natborns don't." Your face falls a little, and he wants to jump straight into a trash compactor.

"I know. And I don't say bye to everyone. Just the people I like and would like to see again."

Oh. He nods again slowly, processing.

Kix isn't sure what to make of that, mainly surprised that you consider him a person and that somehow, he made the shortlist of people you like (and want to see again). He doesn't even know what he did to put him on that list.

But you just grin again, seemingly reveling in the ability to leave him tongue-tied.

"So I wanted to say bye before I get assigned elsewhere." What the fuck?

Kix feels like his face is on fire and regrets popping his lid to take inventory. You must think he's an inarticulate fool.

"Anyway, I hope I get assigned with General Skywalker again. I'd like to see you all again." He watches as you eye him, a coy smile sitting perfectly on your face. Would you ever let him kiss you?

"That would be nice," he says, nodding at you. You look at him for one last moment before nodding back and strolling out of the med bay.

Kix takes a second, unable to move, before plopping onto one of the sick beds.

He's kriffed.

[witchofthesouls]

Ahhh, could write some more Blueberry shenanigans? My heart melts everytime you write about the cutie bitty <3333

(I love my Blueberry baby and their terrible father.)

Blueberry is possibly the happiest Cybertronian (ehhh, techno-organic) you've ever met. The sheer amount of joy they produce is a force to be reckoned with and could most likely fuel a half-dead Titan if such energy could be converted for power.

Also, a complete mystery considering the fact that Prowl sired Blueberry. Prowl, the former SIC of the Autobots. Prowl, the mech who managed to get mechs to self-terminate by reciting the entirety of the Autobot code in the most painfully dry manner as possible. Prowl, the mech without any vid clips of smiling, let alone happiness. Most assume that he deleted his own emotional sub-routines and that’s what makes his rage far more potent.

If Blueberry didn’t look so much like Prowl, especially with that tiny scowl trying to fight off nap times, then there would be rumors that another spike was involved in their creation. 

So many mecha go through a rollercoaster’s worth of emotions just watching you tickle Blueberry’s tummy and seeing the wee sparkling scream in absolute delight. Like is that how Prowl looks when in carefree happiness? Is anyone brave (or incredibly stupid to risk life and limb) enough to try to tickle that ornery prick?

While it's really obvious that newsparks and sparklings would be around their creators, it still scrambles mechas' logic-circuits that someone would leave Prowl in charge of such a vulnerable, helpless being. And the level of mindfuckery that said vulnerable, helpless being loves Prowl's company.

It's already mind-blowing that someone let Prowl between their legs consistently enough to sire a bitlet the old-fashioned way.

And the result is the cutest little flapper. Giggling and burbling in the mesh netting between Prowl's doorwings. Blueberry gets ecstatic whenever mecha around includes them, fledging field burst to the edges of Prowl’s, so-

It leads to a competition between mecha to see who can make the bitty squeak the most with a funny face. 

Prowl’s office gets more traffic because so many actually doubt the bit’s existence. Is it a mini? A drone? A new weapon? It can't be a newspark!

The department reaches new levels of productivity because Prowl leverages everyone’s need to gawp at his kid since every day is a take-your-child-to-work day if the usual and very short list of babysitters isn’t available. Either they have relevant work or to get out because he has other business to oversee.

Since humans don’t have the nifty ability to control their own electromagnetic pulses, you utilize fragrances and scents to your advantage. You do your laundry in a specific detergent that’s easy to make on your own time if necessary, use sprays and perfumes similar enough to the moisturizer for your skincare (Cybertron is a hellishly dry atmosphere.), and leave your office blanket in their play-pen.

You think it’s working but it’s hard to tell if bitty is excited to play peek-a-boo and smack more colored paint on it, or if they did develop a positive association between objects and scent.

Because naps are the baby’s nemesis, if the sparkling starts getting upset since they refuse to sleep, you pick them up and cradle their head to your neck and shoulder. Usually, they soothe into a reluctant doze after ten minutes of consistent little circles between their wingnubs. But when they stand in firm defiance against sleep you bring out the big guns-

Because the administration buildings are connected and stretch out for miles and miles, there’s a continuously running tram that circles everything. It becomes a relatively common sight to see you with a bundle on the tram. Blueberry is swaddled completely in the office blanket and huffing in slow defeat into a dread nap from being cozy and warm, surrounded by carrier, and the constant motion.

Prowl doesn’t have that particular issue. All he needs to do is flit his panels and the bouncing will knock out Blueberry’s growing fussiness. He needs to be careful about extracting Blueberry to place them in his own donut to nap and locks his office to leave them undisturbed because mecha tend to have a reaction seeing mini-Prowl in the plush glazed donut on his desk and cuddling a smaller donut.

Because Blueberry is developing infamy for being the first sparkling after the Great War and attached to Prowl, you became far more sarcastic or have a smart-ass response to the same question, over and over: Are you really the carrier?

Top hits include:

"Ah, you caught me, it's actually Prowl's. That's why he disappeared for a while."

"Unfortunately, my boobs are fully functional compared to Prowl's."

"I know. Such a shame. I question if they're truly mine."

"I'm just the beard in this relationship."

[akemilyre]

This my first ever fanfiction . Please if you don't want spoilers don't read until after the Zou arc. Kara is my One Piece Oc. I can touch up on her later.

A lot has happened since Dressrosa . A late night on the tang leaves Kara and Law a moment alone. Neither knowing what to say after certain events that have happened .They let the moment take way . Leaving Law to make a certain request as Captain.

 It was another late night on the Tang. Which had been submerged for about 2 days now. Daily chores were done and Kara had just finished her work for the day. Putting the paperwork away that was scattered on her desk she looked over at the patient beds. Which were currently occupied in the med bay by the Straw hats that were traveling with the heart pirate crew to Wano. There were seven extra people on the ship now, to make things easier for sleeping arrangements the med level of the ship was turned into a makeshift sleeping quarters . The two Samurai in the private med rooms and the Straw had men In what was the post op room / exam room. Robin, much to Ikaku's delight, got to share a room with her. She had never said it out loud, but Kara knew that she missed her when she switched rooms to share with the captain. Stating that he was tired of her having to go back to her room in the morning and might as well just stay. 

Speaking of which, it was almost midnight. She really should go and check on him, to make sure he isn't overworking himself. They had only left Zou a day ago and Law wanted to do a check up on the entire crew along with they're venturing companions. Especially after finding out they had a run in with Jack and poisonous gas made by Caesar. She didn't blame him, they both witnessed what “Land of the dead '' did back on Punk Hazard. Never doubting the skill of the Straw Hats adorable doctor. Treatment was still needed for the crew, wounds were still healing after battle not only from Zou, but from Dressrosa, and her own after helping Nami and the others evade Big Moms ship. Of course he would want to make sure his crew was okay after all of that . But that meant copious amounts of paperwork for her and their captain. As she left the post op she noticed that the door to the Op room was open.

With an exhale she walked over thinking Zoro got lost again on his way to the bathroom. Going in fully ready to reprimand and scold him for getting lost in what she considers a simple ship layout she noticed someone sleeping on the operating table. The lights were off so she couldn't fully tell who it was. Walking over she noticed a very recognizable white hat resting on top of the sleeping figure. Kara smiled and turned on the light, and walked over gently lifting the hat off of her sleeping Captains face.

His closed eyes stirred as they met the light, opening one eye to see who had disturbed his sleep. Greeted by the kind smile of his pink headed nurse. 

“You know the only ones who sleep on these beds are those in critical condition, and are about to be dissected“ she stated with a soft giggle. “Dissected? That's an interesting way to put what actually goes on in this room” he said as he sat up and stretched. He rubbed the back of his head then reached for his hat which Kara was still holding. “Regardless, you picked a weird place to take a nap. You do know you have a sofa in your office or, better yet, a bed on level four. What are you doing in here anyways?“ She looked around at the sterile room only used for dire situations. He placed his hat back on his head and pointed over to the medical storage that held the more perishable supplies.There was a clipboard on the counter next to it .Come to think of it, they had been gone for about a month and a half now, a lot of the supplies were probably bad by now. They froze the plasma and blood which prolonged its shelf life, but it wasn’t as simple with other supplies. On top of that the crew hadn’t been on the ship for about two weeks now. The realization that she left with Law to help and neither one of them had any intention of coming back alive. 

“So how much of it went bad?’ She asked. 

“All of the saline which makes sense, it's only good for twenty eight days. We’ll have to get more soon. What about you? How's your work going?” 

Kara thought back to the patient reports she was putting together prior, from all of the checkups they had done. Doing some mental math on how much was left to do. “It's coming along, I’m about halfway through. It's taking a bit longer than normal since we have extra people on the ship”. Then a thought occurred to her. “Although there is one person we neglected to give a proper checkup” she stated as she walked over to the cabinet that held extra examination supplies. 

He raised his brow in confusion as he went through the mental catalog of crew members to see who he missed. “Really who?”. She turned back to him putting on latex rubber gloves and pointed at him. “You , my dear captain”

He groaned “Really. Come on Kara, I’m fine”. She gave him a look staring straight at his bandaged arm that was severed and mended in Dressrosa, then stared back at him. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She just continued to walk over with the blood pressure monitor in hand which she grabbed from the cabinet. They say doctors make the worst patients. Law fits that description to a tee. She continued to stare at him until he eventually relented, pushing said arm out so she could wrap the band around his upper arm. Letting out a heavy sigh “Fine”.

She smiled “ Thank you, now stay still so I can get a proper reading, relax and keep both feet flat on the floor”. She began to pump and meticulously watch the needle on the gauge as it moved, recording the results that followed. He watched her focus state as she went through the steps of the procedure, trying his hardest to be on his best behavior. She had a far better bedside manner than his own but if he gave her any sort of a hard time she’d be sure to make this experience a living hell. Going off of past personal experiences. He always seemed to notice how gentle she was during these procedures. Always trying to make sure that no step in the process was uncomfortable or unnerving for whoever was the patient. She steadily made her way through the exam, checking the back of his throat with a tongue depressor, also checking the ears with the otoscope. She pulled out the pupil gauge and shined into his eyes. He looked past the light straight into hers which burned with focused intensity. 

He loved her eyes and how they reflected her kindness. Even now when she was locked in concentration, there was still a shine in her eyes that represented the gentleness and compassion she had shown him countless times.  He got so lost in thought staring at them he almost missed what she said. “Hmm?”

“I said your eyes are fine, they dilated to a beautiful 3mm, perfectly healthy” she responded, turning off the gauge and placing it back down onto the tray next to them. “Although I didn’t think anything was wrong with them in the first place.” She was adjusting the stethoscope onto her ears and moved behind him so she could listen to the mitral valve better. 

She gave him the signal to take a deep breath, then started to listen intently. Listening in making sure there wasn’t any irregularity to show signs of things like murmurs, damage to the valves or chambers. Just listening to the heart beat, his heart. She got lost in the cadence, it was so full of life and warmth. The sound was hypnotizing like white noise used to lull her to sleep each night. It was a sound that she thoroughly enjoyed.Until she realized that she had been listening for longer than needed. She snapped out of her trance.She quickly recorded her results and moved back around to the front of Law. 

“ How do I look?” Law asked, letting out a sight with a smirk.She took off her stethoscope and draped it around her neck. “ Well there seems to be no damage to your heart or lungs , blood pressure is regular , everything seems to be fine which is good considering what all happened in Dressrosa.” She let out a sigh of relief with a soft smile. Robin told her what all happened after “The Sunny” left. A lot happened in the span of one day. 

“Although I’m more concerned about your arm , I’m curious If there is any difference in its motor functions. Can we test it?” He raised it to get a better look at it. After the fight he was bandaged up and he had been taking care of it since. Although the means of reattachment wasn’t ideal he hadn’t noticed a difference in how it used to be. He had no reason to question it. In fact there wasn’t really a need for the entire checkup. But he was letting her anyway not for his sake but for hers. He knew he was fine . She needed to confirm for herself that he was okay.. He then remembered the embrace she gave him when they reunited , the tears in her eyes. She must have been so worried and out of her mind. Since then she had rarely let him out of her sight. Almost like if she looked away for more than five seconds he would disappear forever. 

He let her continue. He pushed his arms equally against the force of her arms pulling on his forearms. He knew the procedure so he didn't need instruction.

Kara was focused on trying to discern whether there was a difference in pressure in the muscles. As the test continued his hand ended up in hers as she assessed the muscle memory in each of his tattooed fingers. Nothing , nothing at all was wrong. He was as healthy as he always was. She felt foolish. Of course nothing was wrong ,he very rarely got sick and he was a doctor , so he knew how to take care of himself. Kara sat there holding his hand staring at the word “Death” spread across his fingers. The word that she knew he was so willing to embrace in Dressrosa. He almost did , without her. She got sent with Nami’s team when the plan went south. She almost lost him. 

Just that thought alone. She knew that when they left. She embraced the thought of possibly dying herself ,but when it came down to it. She was left to live , without him. How could she, the thought of a world without him. Tears started to flow from her eyes and they started to stain their hands.The mere thought left her devastated and heartbroken. His grip tightened at the sight. Using his other arm he pulled her towards him so she was now crying into his chest. Making sure to hold on tightly to her as if to let her know he wasn’t going anywhere. 

They stayed like that for a bit. He wasn't the best with emotions , so he didn't know exactly how to handle this except to just let her get it out. She was always there when he needed her. With a smile in hand. He just wanted that smile to live on , when another he knew didn’t. He never stopped to think about how that decision would affect her. 

Kara dried the tears from her eyes trying hard to compose herself. “I’m sorry , I don’t know what came over me”.

He just let out a deep breath , “ We both know that's a lie, and it’s fine” 

They sat there in silence neither one of them were exact experts when it came to a relationship like this. It comes from how the both of them were brought up. But if Ikkaku were here she would probably push for them to talk about it more , you know, hash out the feelings. But they knew each other too well. 

“I was willing to die with you” 

“I know”

“You left me to live without you”

“Yeah”

“You can be so cruel” he could hear the smile in her voice. “But I would ,not just for you, but for anyone on the crew. You're all so precious to me, you most of all.” He pulled her in tighter. 

“Thinking like that is dangerous” She giggled a little at the irony.

“You're one to talk. But I’m a medic, I’d do anything to keep you alive .” 

He knew he couldn’t stop her even if he tried, once she had her mind set on something. But he knew didn’t want anyone doing that for him again. He got lucky when he found someone that valued his life more than he did. Then coming across multiple people who he was able to share a kinship with and trusted him . Then finding her ,a mixture of both and more. He pushed her bangs back and rested his lips on her forehead. 

“Fine , but as your captain I have one order for you”

He raised her head by the chin so that she could look directly into his golden orbs . 

“ Do anything in your power to keep us alive , but under no circumstance are you allowed to die for anyone, especially me. I can’t lose you too.”

At that moment she understood why , and smiled . Not knowing what to say at such a request.She wasn’t upset anymore.That was it no more thinking about the end. Now all that was left to do was , live. That was the new goal. Stay alive for each other. The thought brought her so much joy that all she could manage to say was … 

“Yes , Captain” 

[aziraphalalala]

Hey :)

Ask you anything? Okay :D

If you would fall into the back of the bookshop right now and Crowley would be there, staring you down, unblinking, what would you do?

This poured out of me. Thanks, @nerdypixel

--

Aziraphale was gone.

Well, good riddance. Better to have the ugly truth of him come out now, rather than later.

He gave it his all, but it was in vain.

The “I forgive you” still trembled in him, like a wild, hungry thing. It ate at him. It carved him out, left him brittle and broken.

Aziraphale was gone. The fucking Supreme Archangel Aziraphale had fucked off to fucking Heaven and left Crowley alone.

From the backroom sofa, Crowley extended his hand petulantly. Another bottle of Château-neuf-du-Pape 1921 floated unsteadily to him. He uncorked it with a vicious gesture (which was considered rude in the extreme in several cultures, including this one), and drank deeply.

He didn’t need that fucking angel—

“Excuse me?”

“Wot?”

There was a lady. A lady had entered the bookshop. Hadn’t he closed the door? Crowley couldn’t remember.

“Excuse me. Are you Mr. Fell?”

“WOT?”

“The door was open, and it started pouring like the end of the world out there, and me with no umbrella, so I thought, ‘Why don’t I drop in that delightful bookshop in the corner, I’ve always wanted to see it’, and—“

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I ssssaid, do I look like I run a bookshop?”

“Um, well. Don’t you? It kinda looks like you do.”

Crowley heaved a heavy sigh, and wobbled up to his feet.

“Nggyyeeeaaaah. I suppose I must do.” He picked up a stray book off the table. Jane Austen. Of course it bloody was. “Umm, so, what was it you said you wanted, exactly?”

She squinted, looking suspicious, and asked: “Are you drunk?”

“No. Yes! A little. What of it?” stammered Crowley.

“Nothing! I don’t mind a tipple myself, now and then.”

She looked half-intrigued, half-ready to escape back into the safety and predictability of English weather. Having been raised with three brothers and a mother with a penchant for bra-burning, she wasn’t easily intimidated. She could deal with a moody bloke. She resolutely stood her ground. 

“Lost someone, did you?”

Crowley’s head snapped up. His mouth was opening and closing, like a fish on dry land, struggling for breath.

Any other day, he would have snapped his fingers, and slung this nosy, too-curious-for-her-own-good insolent woman straight into a vat of acid.

This was not any other day.

This was this day, and he was a post-heartbreak demon, attempting discorporation through tears and extraordinary amounts of alcohol.

“Yeah,” He sighed with visible exhaustion.

“Was he the blond one?”

“Coulda been a she,” he retorted, cheekily.

She levelled a gaze at him, utterly unimpressed.

Crowley stared back, mutely.

“Yeaaahh, the blond one.”

“Was it your fault?”

“Was it my fault?!” he blurted, like spitting out food that tasted rotten.

“He wants to save the world. I think he can’t, and shouldn’t try. I wanted to run away. He wanted to stay. End of story.”

He sat back, indicating he was done arguing, and that he was undeniably right.

She stepped closer, understanding in her eyes. “So, he left you… for a job opportunity?”

“Nngggghhhyyeeaaaah, you could say that.”

“Well, good riddance. If he didn’t choose you, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“He kind of does, you know.”

“Rubbish. I’ve been there, you know, it’s absolutely not worth it. If he’s got an ounce of sense in him—“

“He really kind of doesn’t.”

“—then he’ll come to realise his mistake soon enough, and come crawling back.”

Crowley slumped even deeper into the sofa. Staring at his shoes, he poured himself another generous helping of wine.

“I… hope so.”

“He will, or damn him.”

“He’s just, he’s an angel, you know?”

“He’s really not, if this is how he treats you.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he paused. ”And, if he does come back, I’m gonna make him do the apology dance for a century.”

“Do what now?”

“He will watch the entirety of Golden Girls with me from start to finish. Twisssce,” he hissed.

She looked a little confused, but decided to show support. “Attaboy.”

“Not a boy, but thank you.”

Crowley stoop up abruptly, wobbling a bit, and went to pick up another glass from the tray on the side table.

“He’ssss going to hate it, and he’s going to remember he misses m— sushi, and Shostakovich, and the bloody Sound of music!”

She stepped closer again, pleased that this strange, dark not-a-boy before her was emerging from the worst of his gloom. The rain had stopped.

Crowley wielded the bottle of wine at her like a sword.

“Care for a tipple?”

[naivesilver]

For the kid parent fic how about (from the toddler one) either rise raph with 3 or 5, or rise Mikey with 12 or 14? ✨💕 I know there's four options there but pick whatever one you like best xxx

You're being super amazing today so let's celebrate with some teeny tiny baby Raph 💕💕💕

Kid/Parent Fic Prompts

3. "Shouldn't you go and play with your friends?" "Want cuddles!"

"Something is hanging from my tail," Splinter singsongs, voice full of mock-sternness. "What is it, I wonder?"

He hears giggling coming from much below his eye level as he spins around, deliberately slowly, pretending to pull his tail away even as he holds it within reach of tiny, grubby hands. Even so it doesn't take more than a couple of turns for him to "catch" the culprit, which turns out to be his eldest son, toddling around on unsteady legs. 

Splinter chuckles, crouching down to address the little turtle from up close. "Hello there," he says, softly. "Shouldn't you be out playing with your brothers?"

Raphael beams at him, raising his arms in an unmistakeable gesture. "Want cuddles!"

Oh, dammit. What has Splinter done to deserve a child as sweet as this, he wonders? "I need to make dinner for you all, Red."

"No." The snapper stumbles closer, nuzzling against his father's cheek, filthy and hairy that it might be. "Cuddles with Daddy!"

Maybe we don't really need dinner all that much the rat considers for a split second, before firmly pushing the thought aside. Gone are the days when he could survive on reheated leftovers alone - he has four other mouths to feed, now, and they're lucky if they receive someone else's leftovers on some nights. He can't give up on trying to make their meager food edible just because he can't resist his baby's pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, my son."

But then, before Raphael can begin pouting up a storm, Splinter picks him up from under the armpits and settles him in the crook of his own arm, smirking slightly. "But- you can keep me company while I work, maybe?"

The child coos in delight, snuggling in the crook of his neck, and Splinter resumes his preparations with a comfortable weight curling in his ribcage. Sure, it's much harder to do just about anything one-handed, but the difficulty is worth the contented purrs that reverberate against his chest, heavy and familiar and soothing. 

And besides, he doesn't think he's ever cooked any food that tasted better than what he's making right now, what with such a loving sous chef on hand.