#wait i wanted a set of these arranged in some kind of order

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[afterglowkatie]

daylight | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x williamson!reader | 1.5k | you and kyra have been seeing each other for a little while but she doesn't know you're leah's sister and leah doesn't know about kyra

ˏˋ°•*⁀ my new daylight universe. i've been trying to get this one going for like six months now and finally had a breakthrough and got most of this series planned out! hope y'all enjoy it

‘You know, you kind of look like someone I know,’ Kyra was standing by the counter watching you put together a little flower arrangement for an order you had later in the day. 

Since Kyra joined Arsenal and moved to England she had come across your shop and couldn’t stop herself from frequenting quite often. Spending way too much just to have an excuse to keep coming back and seeing you. From the moment she stepped foot inside your shop she was enchanted by you. A pull inside her that she couldn’t ignore.

‘Oh really?’ You looked up at Kyra briefly, a small smile on your lips every time you laid your eyes on the girl in front of you. Kyra in the beginning was quite awkward and you could tell she didn’t really want or need to be buying as many flowers as she was, you could tell her excuses were just that. But you found it quite endearing and played into the little game.

After a few weeks of Kyra’s almost daily visits, you were well aware of her attraction towards you. You weren’t oblivious but you wanted to see if she would get the courage to actually ask you out or how many more weeks of pointless buying of flowers were you going to watch Kyra do. It ended up being quite a few.

‘Yeah, oddly familiar,’ You just chuckled and shook your head, focusing back on the flower arrangement in front of you, while Kyra kept trying to think of who she knew that you looked similar to.

‘How are you finding Arsenal? Settling in well?’ You changed the topic, you didn’t mind having Kyra’s eyes on you, watching you. But having her staring at you intently was a little unsettling, not like her normal gaze towards you.

You smiled, listening to Kyra talk about her work. Your sister would always bore you when you asked about her teammates, to the point you had to tell her you didn’t really care about each person’s skill set but how they were doing. By this point you’d met the majority of the team at Arsenal, you were friends with quite a few just by being Leah’s sister.

‘You should come to a match,’ Kyra whined and you smiled even more, reaching over to rest your hand on top of hers. You were honestly surprised she hadn’t seen you had a match yet, you liked supporting your sister and watching her play. Though since meeting Kyra you had stayed a bit more hidden at matches than you normally would, Leah telling you that some of the others were complaining that you hadn’t been around much after matches or accusing Leah of hiding you away from them.

It wasn’t completely intentional. Things with Kyra were going slow but steady and had been going quite well. You wanted her to know you for you and not as Leah’s younger sister. Also not wanting to ruin anything by telling her, though a part of you knew that the longer you waited the more complicated it might be. For now you were ignoring that part and just focusing on the girl in front of you.

Also your sister had a tendency to scare away people you were involved with. You didn’t want that to happen with Kyra, especially since Leah and Kyra were teammates. Which added another layer to this complex web you’d created. What if Kyra knew you were Leah’s sister, would she still want to see you? 

‘Hmm, maybe I could be convinced,’ You smirked, leaning over the counter slightly, your hand still on top of Kyra’s giving a little squeeze.

‘I think seeing me in my kit on the pitch would be convincing enough,’ Kyra smirked, she knew how you reacted when she had come straight from training to your apartment for dinner one night, still in her full training kit. Dinner was completely thrown to the side. Kyra imagining what you’d be like after you actually came to one of her matches. Though she obviously didn’t know you were Leah’s sister and that you’d already seen her play.

Leaning closer into you, Kyra closed the gap and connected your lips together. The kiss was anything but work friendly, luckily it was your own shop and you had closed and locked the door while you had your little lunch date with Kyra. You deepened the kiss, your hand cupping Kyra’s cheek while your other hand laced your fingers with hers, ‘Want to take this out the back?’ You asked, mumbling against her lips. 

Safe to say, Kyra definitely ‘convinced’ you and that following Sunday you were dressed in your Arsenal beanie and scarf, your sister's jersey underneath your puffer jacket. You weren’t supposed to be coming to this match, so Leah was definitely surprised to see you in the stands, but for Kyra you were able to move around your other commitments. Honestly, you just couldn’t resist Kyra’s pout and would do anything she asked you. 

You were in the same area as your mum, who was aware you were seeing Kyra and also kept it a secret from Leah having seen how protective Leah could be over you, but you weren’t so close to her and kept interactions as little as possible in case Kyra noticed. 

Both Kyra and Leah had seen you during warm ups, thankfully at different times so you gave them both a little wave and smile. Kyra’s eyes lingered over to you quite often, she already told you how cute you looked when you sent her a photo earlier, but seeing you in person was a different story. 

You and Kyra weren’t official in terms that you hadn’t talked about the label of being each others girlfriend or anything, but you both weren’t seeing anyone else, spent a lot of your time in each others apartments, going on dates all the time and the other week when someone had referred to you as friends she corrected them and called you her partner. You didn’t really know what it meant, you both danced around actually talking about your feelings but you were hers and she was yours.

‘You’re going to have to tell them both eventually,’ Your mum leaned over slightly. You always cursed how well your mum could read you, she could see how you were internally panicking on how today is going to turn out. At the end of the day you did this to yourself, and if worst happens you’d rather Kyra finding out you hadn’t told her you are Leah’s sister rather than Leah finding out you are seeing Kyra.

‘I know,’ You groaned slightly, running your hands over your face, ‘But everything’s just been so good lately. I don’t want to ruin it all,’ Your mum was always warning you that the longer you took the more complicated it would all get and she wasn’t wrong. The pit in your stomach wishing there was a way that you could back and admit everything from the beginning because it definitely never got easier or a more right time to admit what you weren’t telling.

‘They’ll be upset you didn’t say anything but you aren’t going to ruin anything with either of them,’ Your mum gave your shoulder a little reassuring squeeze, ‘Plus you know I’ll want to officially meet Kyra soon enough,’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at your mum. 

Even though you never played, you were still just as passionate as Leah was when it came to football. Your supportive passion could never be matched by anyone else, it was how you and Leah were so close despite the slight age gap between you and your older siblings, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Leah was the first to approach you after you did hide yourself away a little but Kyra was just being her goofy self annoying her fellow Aussies out on the pitch after the match.

‘Well surprise,’ Not trying to come up with an excuse as to why you suddenly were able to be at the match knowing Leah would see right through you, ‘Can’t I just randomly turn up to support my sister?’ Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms feigning annoyance towards your sister.

‘My bad. Forgot I wasn’t allowed to question what you do anymore,’ Leah dramatically held up her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. You laughed out, when you were a teenager Leah was way too protective over you so you told her to get lost and stop pestering you about what you did and who you did it with, now she always brought it up when she was messing around with you. You were quite the dramatic teenager, Leah was glad you grew out of that phase, ‘Come on, everyone misses seeing you after a match. We just won, come celebrate with us,’ 

Leah practically dragged you down and over the barrier onto the pitch. No matter how much you tried protesting your older sister, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. It was good getting to see the girls again, you had avoided a few of them since you started seeing Kyra, and even when invited to their little outings some of them would have, you made up excuses to not go.

‘Have you met Kyra yet? I think you’d get on quite well,’ Even though Alessia was also a new signing you had obviously already met her with her and Leah playing for England together.

‘No she’s been avoiding me after matches. I haven’t had the chance to introduce them,’ Before you knew it Leah was dragging you over to where Kyra was pestering Steph.

‘Kyra,’ She smiled when she saw you but it was quickly replaced with confusion with you next to Leah, ‘Meet my sister,’

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[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.” 

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 3

SUMMARY: In this part of the story, you find yourself torn between the excitement of a night out with friends and the allure of an offer for a night out with Jake, prompting you to cancel your girls' night. As you navigate the intoxicating atmosphere of a club, Jake's charm pulls you into a thrilling dance of playful flirtation and heated tension, blurring the lines of your casual arrangement. With each laugh and whispered compliment, the boundaries you set begin to waver, leading to an unexpected yet electric moment outside the club and an even more electric ending to the night.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. ALCOHOL USE. Dancing/Grinding.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

You stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way the deep blue dress hugged your curves, the fabric shimmering softly under the light. Your hair fell in loose waves around your shoulders, and you had perfected your makeup—just the right amount of eyeliner to make your eyes pop and a soft pink gloss that felt just flirty enough. Tonight was supposed to be a girls' night out, filled with laughter, dancing, and maybe a little trouble. But as you applied the final touches of your lipstick, your phone buzzed on the counter.

You picked it up, glancing at the screen to see Jake’s name flashing. A flutter of excitement danced in your stomach as you opened the message.

Hey, what are you up to tonight?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a smirk playing on your lips as you crafted your response. 

Depends on who's asking.

You hit send, biting your lip in anticipation. It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

I was thinking about hitting up this new club some of the guys have been talking about. Want to join?

Your brow arched, your heart racing a little faster. Are the guys going to care if you bring me?

Jake’s response was quick, and the straightforwardness of it made your stomach flip. Going solo. Just thought it’d be more fun with you there.

You glanced at the time, the thrill of spontaneity washing over you. The girls would understand. They always did. Without much further thought, you typed back, Okay, I’m in.

You tossed your phone onto the bed, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you hurried to grab a jacket and slip on some heels. This was a different kind of night out, one that felt charged with possibilities. The thought of being with Jake, surrounded by music and laughter, made your pulse race. It wasn’t just the thrill of the club or the drinks that awaited you—it was the promise of a night spent with him that had you feeling alive.

You slipped out the door, the cool night air hitting your skin and invigorating you as you made your way to the Uber that was waiting for you. The drive to the club was filled with excitement and a hint of nerves, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to be different.

The moment you stepped into the club, the music hit you—a heavy, rhythmic bass that vibrated through the floors and pulsed in your chest. The place was crowded, lights flashing overhead in sync with the beat. Jake walked beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back as he guided you toward the bar. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you, making you wonder if tonight was going to blur the lines you’d set between yourselves.

When you reached the bar, Jake leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he asked, “What are you drinking? Vodka soda?”

You hesitated for a second before answering, "Y-yeah. Vodka soda’s fine."

He nodded and signaled to the bartender, ordering your drink and a beer for himself. When he pulled out his wallet and slid his card across the counter, you shot him a confused look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, your brows knitting together. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Jake shrugged, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Drinks are on me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Normally, you paid for yourself—always had. The boundaries between you two were clear. You didn’t let anyone pay unless it was a date, and this… this wasn’t a date, right?

Suddenly, your mind started racing. Was this a date? Had you unknowingly agreed to something more? Was Jake seeing this as more than just two friends, more than the no-strings arrangement you'd carefully constructed?

But before you could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, Jake interrupted your thoughts by nudging your shoulder lightly. “Hey,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise in your head. “You good?”

You blinked up at him, startled, before forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… surprised, I guess.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, amused. “Surprised I remember your drink?”

“No, not that.” You bit your lip, glancing down at the drink in your hand. “I just wasn’t expecting you to pay.”

His grin widened, a flash of white teeth under the club's dim lighting. “Well, consider it my way of thankin’ you for joining me tonight.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, but you pushed it down, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries. This wasn’t a date. He wasn’t crossing a line, not technically, but something about it felt… different.

Then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, Jake leaned in a little closer, his voice a teasing drawl. “So, what about dancing? Is that allowed under your rules?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Dancing? You hadn’t even thought about that when you’d agreed to come. You glanced out at the dance floor, bodies swaying and grinding to the heavy beat, the heat and energy palpable even from where you stood. It wasn’t necessarily against your rules, but dancing like that... well, it could blur things.

Your hesitation must have been obvious because Jake’s lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “What’s the verdict, darlin’? You gonna let me take you out there, or are you worried it’ll cross some imaginary line?”

There was a playful challenge in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat. You were overthinking it, you told yourself. It was just dancing. No strings attached, just like always.

You took a deep breath, squashing down the flutter of anxiety in your chest. "Dancing's allowed," you said finally, your voice a little breathless.

Jake’s grin widened, satisfaction evident in his expression. “Good,” he murmured, his hand already reaching for yours. “Because I’m about to make you forget those rules.”

He took your hand, and you let him lead you through the crowd onto the dance floor, the energy around you vibrating with the music. At first, you moved together with a comfortable rhythm, the distance between you just enough to keep things light. But as the third song transitioned into the fourth, the atmosphere shifted.

The thumping bass of the club surrounded you, but all you could focus on was Jake's hands as they held you close, the heat between your bodies building with every passing second. The casual space between you vanished as your hips began to move in sync, the friction of your bodies sparking something hotter than either of you had planned.

“Damn, you look amazing in that dress,” he leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You felt a thrill of confidence, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “You should see what I have on underneath it.”

You caught the way his expression shifted, his eyes darkening with desire as he let out a soft groan. “Hoping I can later,” he murmured back, his voice low and filled with promise.

Jake's hands slipped lower, resting just above your butt at first, but as you pressed your hips more boldly against him, rolling them in time with the beat, you felt his fingers tighten, sliding down to cup your ass fully. His grip was firm, possessive even, as if he couldn’t resist any longer.

You smirked at his reaction, feeling the way his body tensed against yours as you ground your hips deliberately into him. You weren’t usually this forward with him, but tonight you wanted to see just how far you could push. The bolder you became, the more Jake’s control seemed to unravel. His breath hitched, and for a split second, you felt like you had him completely off guard.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmured into your ear, his voice rough, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "I’ve never seen you like this before."

You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it spurred you on. You moved against him again, feeling the way his body responded, and let your head fall back onto his shoulder, giving him a wicked smile. His grip on you tightened even more, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you close, his control slipping further with each movement.

"You're so damn sexy," he whispered, his lips barely grazing your jawline now, his breath warm against your skin. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, and you couldn't help but let your body respond, pressing harder against him. The heat between you was palpable, and it was clear neither of you was planning on staying at the club much longer.

Jake’s hand slid up your side, brushing the curve of your waist before returning to your hips, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. The boldness of your movements had caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked this side of you. He was used to you being a bit more reserved, but tonight you were anything but shy.

Jake’s hands were on you, possessive and unyielding, as your hips moved together in a slow, heated rhythm. The air around you felt thick, and you could tell he was on the edge of his control. When he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you felt the heat of his breath as he growled low, "You wanna get out of here?"

For a second, you toyed with the idea of teasing him. Your body was thrumming with need, but something about making him wait felt just as tempting. You let a playful pout form on your lips, your eyes dancing with mischief as you turned your head slightly. "But I just got here," you said, drawing out the words, knowing exactly what you were doing. You could feel his frustration in the way his grip tightened on your hips, his hands nearly trembling with restraint.

Jake's response was immediate. He pulled you closer, so close that there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His voice dropped even lower, barely audible above the music, but the words sent a jolt of heat straight through you. "If you don’t let me take you home," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, "I’m gonna have to take you right here... and I don’t think you want that."

The dirty promise in his voice made your breath catch, and before you could stop yourself, you squeezed your thighs together, the need to be closer to him overwhelming. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he saw the effect his words had on you, his smirk dangerous and knowing.

He leaned in again, brushing his lips against your ear with deliberate slowness. "So... you wanna get out of here?" This time, the question was more of a command than a request, and every inch of your body screamed yes.

Without missing a beat, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jake’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, pulling you off the dance floor with a sense of urgency that made your pulse race. The crowd seemed to part around you as he led you toward the exit, the heat of his body pressing against yours every time someone got too close. But it didn’t matter. Your focus was solely on him—on the way his fingers intertwined with yours and the possessive grip that seemed to say you were his for the rest of the night.

As soon as the cool air of the night hit your skin, Jake’s hands were on you again, gripping your waist and tugging you against his chest. “Can’t believe you made me wait that long to get you out of there,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your temple, his hands squeezing your hips as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. The sudden movement made you stumble in your heels, but Jake steadied you, his hold shifting as he leaned down to look at you.

“You alright?” he asked a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, just—” Before you knew what was happening, he bent down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and flipping you over his shoulder with infuriating ease.

“Jake!” you cried out, the sudden change in perspective making you momentarily dizzy. You braced yourself against his back, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you squirmed in his hold. “Put me down!” But he didn’t budge. His arm was like a steel band wrapped around your legs, holding you firmly in place.

“Not a chance, darlin’,” he drawled, completely unbothered as he strode confidently through the parking lot, each step making you bounce slightly on his shoulder. You glanced up, seeing a few curious onlookers watching with amused expressions, but Jake seemed unfazed, his focus solely on you. The sight of his broad back, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt as he carried you, made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the angle you were at.

“Jake Seresin, you put me down right now!” you demanded, even though laughter threaded through your voice, your hands pushing at his back. All you got in response was a smug chuckle, his grip unyielding as he carried you effortlessly across the parking lot.

He kept his word, not letting you go until he reached his truck and set you carefully on your feet beside it. You swayed for a second, your legs still trembling from the sudden shift, and Jake’s hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as he leaned in.

“There,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your hipbone. “No more falling, okay?”

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, your heart pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to carry me.”

His eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your stomach flutter. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to put my hands on you,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with unspoken desire. 

With one swift motion, his hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair, and in an instant, his lips were on yours. The kiss was hot—heated, almost desperate. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was full of hunger, the tension from inside the club finally boiling over. His mouth moved against yours with a possessive edge, claiming you in a way that sent a rush of heat straight through your body.

The sharp nip of his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging it lightly before he soothed it with his tongue, and you let out a soft, breathy sound that only seemed to spur him on. Your fingers instinctively fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as your body leaned into his, craving more of that fire, more of the heat that crackled between you two like electricity.

Every nerve in your body was on edge, hyper-aware of how close he was, how his hand in your hair held you in place while his other hand brushed against your hip, gripping just tight enough to make you feel grounded despite the chaos raging in your mind.

As you pulled away from the kiss, your breath heavy and uneven, Jake gave you a puzzled look. His brows furrowed slightly as if trying to figure out what went wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and still thick with desire. “Did I do something?”

You hesitated for a moment, the words tangling in your throat before you finally managed to speak. “You kissed me.”

Jake blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk, “I’ve done a lot more than that to you.”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably as the reality of the kiss hit you. “Yeah, but… you’ve never kissed me before.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion like he was trying to find the issue with what you were saying. He tilted his head, clearly not seeing the problem. “Kissing’s just foreplay for what’s about to happen,” he pointed out, his voice smooth, the words slipping out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You felt your heart racing, the anxiety creeping into your chest as you struggled to shake the thoughts swirling in your mind. He was right—this wasn’t anything new. It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of what always happened between the two of you, just another step before you ended up tangled in his sheets.

But something about it still made your heart skip a beat. You pushed the feeling aside, determined to silence that small voice inside that was overthinking everything.

Jake leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, and his warm breath sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re thinkin’ too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. “When I get you back to your place, I’m gonna have to clear that pretty little head of yours.”

His words went straight to your core, and you felt the tension in your body release slightly, your earlier hesitation fading away. You knew what this was, and you weren’t about to let your overthinking ruin the moment. You let out a shaky breath, your mind slowly untangling itself as you nodded.

Jake smirked, his eyes dark with intent as his hand tightened around your waist. “That’s better,” he murmured, before pressing one more heated kiss to your lips. “Now get in,” he said as he motioned toward the truck, his thumb tracing idle circles on your hip as he waited for you to move.

For a second, you just stood there, staring up at him. His expression was relaxed, but there was a simmering intensity beneath the surface that made your skin tingle. This thing between you two... it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to make your heart flutter or your stomach flip. But here you were, melting under his touch, wanting him in a way that scared you.

Shaking off the thought, you turned and climbed up into the truck, settling into the passenger seat as you tried to calm your racing heart. Jake shut the door behind you, then jogged around to the driver’s side, sliding in beside you with an ease that made everything he did seem effortless.

The truck rumbled down the dark road, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. Jake had one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other draped lazily on his thigh, his thumb tapping lightly to some rhythm only he seemed to hear. The night was quiet, except for the faint thrum of your pulse still racing from the club and everything that had happened so far.

A sudden chill swept over you, and you shivered, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. Jake glanced over at you, his eyes flicking between you and the road.

“You cold?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the goosebumps on your arms betrayed you.

Without another word, Jake reached up and turned down the air conditioning, the cool blast fading to a more bearable breeze. But then, with his free hand, he reached into the backseat, rummaging around for a second before tossing something into your lap. Surprised, you looked down to see a worn Navy sweatshirt sprawled across your legs.

You blinked, glancing up at him with a confused look. “What’s this?”

“Put it on,” he said simply, his eyes still focused on the road, but a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You hesitated for a moment before slipping the sweatshirt over your head. It was warm, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As you settled into it, the faint scent of him lingered in the fabric—something woodsy and clean, unmistakably Jake. You took a deep breath, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over you.

“Better?” he asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, better.”

Jake returned your smile with one of his own before reaching over, his hand settling on your thigh. His touch was warm, the weight of his hand a reassuring presence as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin. He didn’t say anything more, just kept his hand there as he focused on the road ahead, guiding you both toward your place.

The simple gesture—his sweatshirt, his hand on your leg—felt unexpectedly intimate. But in the quiet of the drive, it didn’t feel too heavy or complicated. It was just Jake being Jake, the line between you both blurring for a moment but never fully crossed.

As Jake continued driving, the quiet rumble of the truck and the gentle sway of the road lulled you into a drowsy haze. The warmth of his sweatshirt, soft and comforting against your skin, combined with the alcohol humming through your veins, sent you slipping into sleep before you even realized it. Jake noticed, his lips curving into a small, amused smile. You looked peaceful, bundled up in his sweatshirt, just like the angel he always teased you about being.

When he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and moved around the truck. Gently opening the door, Jake leaned in, his fingers expertly unbuckling your seatbelt without disturbing you too much. But as his arms slid under you to lift you, you stirred, blinking awake and looking around in confusion.

"You're home," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your front door.

He set you down gently, his strong hands steadying you as your feet hit the ground. The weight of the moment hit you, and with it, the realization of what had been the unspoken plan for the night. The two of you had been on this track from the moment he asked if you wanted to get out of there. But now, standing in front of your door, sleep still tugging at your eyelids and the warmth of his sweatshirt making you feel oddly safe, you hesitated.

You knew what Jake was expecting. And, honestly, part of you wanted it, too. But another part just wanted to curl up in bed, the softness of his sweatshirt wrapped around you, and drift off to sleep.

Except... that felt weird, right? You don't wear the sweatshirt of your casual fling. You don’t cuddle up in it like it’s something more than it is. 

As if reading your mind, Jake shifted slightly and broke the silence. "We talked about what was gonna happen tonight," he reminded you, his tone light, no pressure in his words.

You swallowed, the weight of the evening settling over you. "Yeah... Do you hate me if I take a rain check?" you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Jake scoffed, his lips quirking up into that familiar crooked smile. "Hate you? Come on, sweetheart. Not a chance," he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. He leaned in a little closer. "Get some sleep. We’ll figure the rest out later."

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Thanks, Jake. Get home safe, okay?"

He nodded, gave you one last lingering look, then turned and headed back to his truck. You watched him until he disappeared down the street, then slipped inside your place, closing the door behind you.

As you made your way to your room, your mind was still buzzing. You quickly tugged Jake’s sweatshirt off, tossing it onto your bed before shimmying out of your dress. As the fabric fell to the floor, you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror—the lacy set of lingerie you’d chosen specifically for tonight staring back at you, a reminder of what you’d expected to happen. You sighed. It felt strange, wearing something like this for a casual fling. Too intimate. Too much.

You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, sliding into them quickly before catching sight of Jake’s sweatshirt again. 

The apartment was a little chilly tonight, and, after all, if he really wanted it back, he would have asked for it, right? Before you could overthink it anymore, you reached out, pulling the soft fabric over your head and curling up in bed. 

The warmth of it, and the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric, wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you pulled the blankets up and let your eyes drift closed.

A few hours later you were pulled from your sleep, your phone lit up on the nightstand. You picked it up, heart skipping a beat when you saw Jake's name flashing on the screen. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, you swiped to answer.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

“Yeah, it’s just… I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his tone slightly shy. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Relief washed over you, even if you didn’t want to admit it. “Oh.”

“I didn’t wake you up, right sweetheart?”

“N-no. I was just trying to fall asleep, but I hadn’t yet,” you lied.

He chuckled softly, and the sound warmed you. “Same here. Just can’t stop replaying the night over and over.”

You settled into your pillows, your heart fluttering as you listened to him talk about the club, the way you had lit up the dance floor, how beautiful you looked in that dress. 

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, teasing and flirting, sharing thoughts and dreams until the world outside faded into nothingness.

Before you knew it, the soft cadence of your voices turned to whispers, the late hour pulling at you both. As the conversation drifted, you felt your eyelids growing heavy.

And just like that, you both succumbed to the weariness of the day, the phone resting between you as sleep overtook you. The last thing you heard was Jake's soft breathing on the other end, a rhythm that matched your own as you drifted into dreams—dreams colored with the promise of what was to come and the undeniable connection that had sparked between you two.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: when i started this chapter i had intended for it to go in a completely different direction but as i began writing it, i let the words flow and wrote it this way instead. i really hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback and remember to send in things you'd like to see in this series. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of handjobs and blowjobs, slight angst, pillow talk, cunilingus, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - friends to lovers trope - softrry }

word count- 3,459

While making arrangements to introduce your friends to Harry, he seizes the chance to ask about your abrupt departure after your intimate encounter earlier that day. This conversation unexpectedly leads to Harry performing oral sex on you for the first time.

As you make your way around the street corner, you are greeted by your friends, Mave and Charlotte, who are waving you over to the table they had set aside for your brunch. The cafe features a beautiful outdoor space, perfect for the current time of year. Upon joining them, they quickly pick up on your more upbeat attitude. While you typically don't appear gloomy, you have been feeling rather indifferent for the past year. However today, they observe a slight improvement in your mood.

"Hi, Hi." you lean in to kiss each of their cheeks and sit down at the round table.

"We've ordered you a mimosa. Wasn't sure what you wanted to eat so we haven't ordered our food yet though." Charlotte explans.

"Oh, well thank you." you take a sip of your mimosa and moan at how delicious the drink is.

"What's making you so cheerful today? Is it because of Harry?" Mave questions with cheeky smile, aware of your growing connection with your housemate and the recent revelation of your mutual feelings towards one another. Your friends are genuinely happy for you, knowing how long you've been single and how it affected you.

Brushing them off, you answer, "What? A girl can't look happy on a Sunday morning without there being a reason?" But they know you better then that. The aurora you're giving off is one of a girl who's in love. Though they wouldn't tell you that this soon in your relationship with Harry.

"No it's just," Mave starts, "look, we want the details. Did you guys have sex this morning? Because you look like your glowing and it's not from your skincare routine." Her and Charlotte stare you down, waiting for an answer and you know you must give them one. Otherwise they'll never let this conversation rest.

"Alright, alright. We did do some sexual stuff this morning. But not sex. I just kind of gave him a handjob which then turned into a blowjob."

Your two friends are smiling ear to ear at your confession. "And.... what else? Don't tell us he left you high and dry after you literally had his dick in your mouth." Charlotte utters in a hushed yet audible tone, ensuring that you can hear her amidst the bustling traffic and crowd, while hopefully keeping your conversation private from others.

You express with annoyance in your tone, "It wasn't as you think. I woke up to find him cuddling me and noticed he was aroused. Therefore, I chose to assist him. Once he woke up and realized he was hard, he eventually agreed to my help. I began by giving him a handjob under his briefs, but then decided to go further with a blowjob. And he didn't reciprocate because I left quickly after he came. So, I'm unsure whether he would've wanted to do something for me in return."

Mave reaches across the table and playfully swats your arm. "You fuckin' idiot. You should have stayed to see if he would've pleasured you as well. You could've gotten an amazing orgasm out of him."

"Hey," you spit back, "I did have an amazing orgasm this morning. Just... with my vibrator in the shower before I came here." Though you're sure Harry would beat every single one of your toys if you gave him the chance to prove it.

After chatting for a few more minutes you realized just how hungry you were and decided to order your food and another round of mimosas. You catch up on each others lives and make plans for them to come by the house to hang out one night. They have yet to meet Harry and you thought what better way to introduce them than to invite them over for some drinks and maybe a card game. You'll just have to ask him if that would be okay.

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

Upon returning home later that evening, you notice Harry seated on the sofa, engrossed in a pile of papers and his laptop resting on his lap. Presumably grading tests, you assume. After placing your bag in the entryway, you make your way over to the couch. Surprisingly, the atmosphere doesn't feel as awkward as you had anticipated, considering the events that unfolded earlier in the day.

"How was your brunch?" Harry questions, shifting to set all of his work onto the coffee table.

"Great. Really fun." you answer before continuing, "So I have a question."

"Hm, so do I actually but go on." Harry replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn't know what your question is but he knows his question is in reference to why you ran off so quickly this morning after you gave him that blowjob. It's been eating at his mind all day and he'd really like some closure so he can relax.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could have a little get-together with my friends, Mave and Charlotte. They're eager to meet you, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to invite them over this upcoming weekend. We can enjoy some drinks and perhaps even play that card game I purchased some time ago but haven't had the chance to play yet."

Harry nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds great. How about this Friday night? I can stop by the shops on my way home from work and grab some alcohol. Just let me know what kind they prefer." He is genuinely excited to finally meet your friends. Since becoming your housemate, you've kept your personal life mostly private from him. As a result, he hasn't had the chance to meet any of your family members and has only heard stories about your friends.

"Fantastic," you declare, jumping up from the couch excitedly. "I'll call them right away and let them know. They'll be so happy." Just as Harry was about to remind you that he had a question as well, you've already disappeared from his line of sight. Your sudden departures today seem to be a trend. He reckons he'll have to wait a bit longer to find out the reasoning behind your quick exit this morning.

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

At approximately ten o'clock at night, you and Harry are lying in your bed, watching reruns of Friends while trying to stay awake. The room is dark besides the glare of the tv and his cat Pixie is nestled in the middle of the bed, sleeping soundly. Although she hasn't always been allowed in your room, ever since Harry started visiting so frequently, you have embraced her presence as well.

Right as your eyes began to shut, you remember how Harry had a question for you earlier but never got to ask it. You didn't mean to run off like you did. You just got excited to call your friends and let them know they're welcomed to come by the house this Friday for the small gathering. Which in turn made you totally forget he had a question in the first place.

"Harry," you say aloud. The call of his name startles him. He'd just dozed off to sleep and your voice pulled him away from the unconsciousness he was about to enter.

"Mhm, what?" he grumbles, eyes half open as he tries to stay awake in order to hear you speak.

"What's your question? You said earlier you had a question but you never got to ask me it."

Harry found himself more awake as he thought about how to bring up his question. To be honest, he was feeling a bit nervous to ask. Even though this question had been on his mind all day, he hesitated to ask, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or create any distance between you. "Um, was just gonna ask why you left so suddenly this mornin'. You know, after you gave me that blowjob? It seemed like you were ashamed of your actions or somethin'. I was plannin' to return the favor, but you left before I had the opportunity to ask."

With heart shaped eyes, you coo softly, "You were?"

"Well yeah. It's only right that I returned the favor you did for me. I'm not a douche bag like some men can be."

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. But um, I don't know. Guess I remembered how I'd just woke up and maybe didn't smell the best down there or that I may have tasted bad from the hours of sleep I was in prior. Just didn't want to disgust you in any way."

With a gentle tone, Harry expressed, "Y/n, your scent or taste wouldn't have been an issue for me. Even if it was there, I wouldn't have mind. Because it's you, and I genuinely care about you. I would have found pleasure in it regardless. If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about the natural smell of your vagina, they are truly right dicks"

Breathing deeply, you sadly admit, "Yeah, I've had some men attempt to go down on me first thing in the morning but complained about the way I smelt or tasted and so, I just didn't want you to do the same as them."

Sliding impossibly close to you, Harry responds back, "Well I'm not those other men. I respect women more than that and I may just have a thing for oral sex. Givin' and receivin'. Plus, it feels even better when you really know and trust the person."

You giggle shyly and except his closeness, the two of you laying on your sides facing each other. "Dick or pussy though?"

"What?" Harry asks with a sleepy smile, unsure of what you're questioning.

"You said you had a thing for oral sex. So do you prefer sucking dick or eating pussy?"

"Mhm, depends on who the person is and my connection to them. Both are great but it also depends on what mood I'm in to give you a solid answer." It's no secret Harry likes men as well. When you first moved in with him he had a short fling with a guy and you assumed he was gay for like the first month. But then when you heard a girl moaning through his bedroom walls, you realized that wasn't the case. The next day you questioned him and he confidently came out as bisexual to you.

Deciding to continue these questions just to see where it could lead, you keep going, "And, what mood are you in right now?"

Harry suddenly became aware of the dense atmosphere, yet he responded truthfully. "Considerin' that I'm currently in your bed, nearly cuddling you, and you happen to possess a vagina, I would say 'pussy.' However, if I were to discover that you possessed a penis, the answer would be 'cock.'"

He moves one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. It's so incredibly close to his that he can just about taste the mint of your toothpaste. "Good thing I have one of those two options then and I'm not some alien with no genitals at all."

What Harry wants to say is that he'd love you just the same, even if you were a genitalless alien, but he can't. Not yet anyways. So he responds, "Wouldn't change how I feel about you." With the close proximity, you get the sudden urge to surge forward and clash your lips with his. As if he felt this coming, Harry didn't react surprised at all and accepts the kiss. You both realized this is the first time you've kissed each other. You've shared your feelings, your beds, and you've gave him a blowjob. Yet this makes your first time kissing.

Harry intensifies the kiss by gently prodding his tongue against your lips, and you grant him permission to enter. The kiss is wet, rushed, and somewhat messy, yet incredibly enjoyable. After a minute of exchanging saliva, you pull back to take a deep breath and confidently state, "Prove it then. Prove you're in the mood for some pussy."

With surprise written on his face, Harry leans back a tiny bit to make sure he's reading you correctly. "You sure? I don't have to if......" He'd be more than happy to eat you out right here, right now, but he doesn't want you to ask because you feel obligated to agree or because you're in the heat of the moment.

Responding eagerly, you assert, "Yes, I'm sure. But please be quick before I change my mind." The mention of urgency and the potential for a change of mind prompts Harry to swiftly toss the covers back and carefully positions himself between your legs. He gently lifts Pixie from the bed and places her on the floor where she discovers her cat bed near the window sill and resumes her peaceful sleep.

At this very moment, Harry finds himself surprisingly nervous as he positions himself between your legs. Although he has longed to perform oral sex on you, both this morning and in his countless fantasies, the actual prospect of doing so fills him with apprehension that he may not satisfy you adequately. Additionally, he frets over the possibility of being unable to bring you to orgasm.

Curiosity arose within you as to why Harry was taking such a long time, prompting you to prop yourself up on your elbows. From this viewpoint, you observed him fixating on your bottom half, which was concealed by some skimpy shorts you typically sleep in. However, as soon as he notices your gaze upon him, he swiftly reaches up and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. To his astonishment, you're not wearing any panties which causing Harry to let out a moan upon catching sight of your naked pussy.

Despite the room being enveloped in a soft glow from the television, it remained dimly lit and quiet. Harry couldn't obtain a clear image of your exposed cunt but he could perceive enough to develop a strong liking to it already. However, this attraction isn't solely based on the physical appearance of your vagina, but rather because it's a part of you.

Harry looks up once more to ensure your approval for his actions. With a nod of reassurance from you, he eagerly begins. His mouth envelops your entire pussy, as his tongue moves from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. The flavor of you on his tongue almost brings him to climax instantly, hands free. This is undoubtedly the best cunt he's ever had. Your skin is incredibly soft and inviting, with only a few short hairs littered around your bikini area from the shave you did two days ago.

As your elbows grow weaker, you find yourself sinking into the comfortable bed below. Harry's tongue skillfully laps up your arousal before focusing on your clit and experimenting with various flicking patterns. Each time his tongue glides over the sensitive nerves, your entire body responds with a powerful jolt of electricity. It's no secret that your clit is extremely sensitive when receiving attention from the right person.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Feels so good." you moan aloud, reaching down to grab onto his curly locks.

You fear he'll tell you not to touch him, but as he briefly moves his mouth away, he commands, "Tug my hair, baby. It feels amazing." Could it be that he just referred to you as 'baby' for the first time? You believe so, and it heightens your arousal even further.

Listening to Harry's wishes, you pull his hair tightly in your fists, causing his face to be nestled against your pussy impossibly closer than before. You begin to move your hips, creating a subtle rocking motion. Although he may feel a slight burning sensation on his scalp due to the intensity of your grip, as he mentioned, he loves the sensation it gives.

A minute more goes by of Harry munching down on your wet pussy when you feel your orgasm nearly bubble over. "I... I'm..." you try to warn but can't even get the words out from how much pleasure you're in. Harry doesn't say a word back, just goes in even harder, more determined to bring you over the edge.

You finally achieve orgasm when he seals his lips around your clit, applying firm and forceful sucks. Your clitoris pulsates within his mouth, causing you to release an animalistic scream as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Your entire body trembles, compelling Harry to firmly hold your hips to keep you in place. He continues sucking on your clit until your orgasm begins to fade and overstimulation sets in.

The hands that once laced in his hair start trying to push his head away. "Har.... Oh God!" you gasp when he gives your tiny nerve a few more kitten licks to make sure he's pulled every ounce of pleasure from you that he can. You lie there trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Harry sits up on his knees, breathing heavy with a glossy mouth.

Eager to know, though the answer should be evident with how you look right now, Harry asks, "So.... was I any good? Did that prove what mood I was in to you?"

You glance forward to see a devilish smile plastered on Harry's face and just know he's proud of himself. Which, he should. You don't think you've ever came so hard in your entire life. "Yes," you heave, "Oh God, yes. I'm...., that was, God. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Yeah? You just tellin' me that to boost my ego or are you tellin' the truth?"

"Harry, I quit literally can't feel my bones right now. They're like jello. No man nor any one of my strongest vibrators have made me come that hard. No wonder the ladies liked you."

With the awareness that it's already very late and he has work the next morning, Harry decides to rise from the bed and make his way to the bathroom in the hallway to fetch a damp cloth. Your exhaustion prevents you from mustering the energy to question his actions. When he returns, you immediately recognize what he has and instinctively close your legs, still experiencing discomfort.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and lightly taps your thighs, silently requesting you to open up. Reluctantly, you comply. As you feel the damp cloth glide over your swollen pussy, you try to pull away, but he firmly holds you in place with one hand on your hip bone. "Shh, it's alright," he reassures you in a gentle tone. "I'm just gonna clean you up, and then we can sleep, okay?"

As you lie on the bed, you notice Harry's erection prominently displayed through his black briefs and a pang of guilt washes over you for not pleasuring him. "But.......what about you? You're still hard. I could give you another blowjob or handjob. Whatever you want." Despite the tempting offer, Harry is too exhausted to engage in any additional activities tonight. Prior to this moment, he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Consequently, his drowsy state has returned as the explicit actions have ceased.

"It'll eventually go away, Y/n. I've got work in the mornin' and it's past midnight as is. Plus m'too tired to do anythin' more tonight. But, if I wasn't so tired and didn't have work so early, then you bet your ass I'd take you up on that offer."

Harry finishes cleaning between your legs and helps you slip your shorts back on. He then turns the TV off and crawls back into your bed beside you. Though your limbs are still weak, you manage to slide over until your head rests on his bare chest and your top leg is thrown over his hairy thigh closest to you.

As the moonlight glows through your bedroom window, sleep takes over both of you as the world around becomes quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are Pixie's soft purring from her location on the floor, the steadiness of Harry's heartbeat, and your exhails of breath.

In your dreaming state, you're still excited for the arrival of this upcoming Friday where you eagerly await the moment when your friends will finally have the chance to meet Harry. With high hopes for a successful gathering, you envision a joyous time ahead. Unbeknownst to Harry, the card game planned for the small get-together holds an R rating, implying that it will serve as an opportunity for everyone to bond and deepen their connections without the need for uncomfortable conversations in the future. Plus, mixed with the alcohol, you can't wait to find out some of Harry's dirty secrets.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

[apomaro-mellow]

Two in the Bush 2

Part 1

Steve called them both separately and arranged a meet up at Benny’s. As the hour drew closer, he felt himself getting more nervous. He had only wanted a baby. He didn’t really care about the alpha who would give him said baby. They were an afterthought. And really, neither Billy nor Eddie seemed like strong father figures, he had to admit. Both were rough around the edges in different ways.

Billy was more aggressive, which made for great sex but nothing about him seemed paternal. The few times they talked about their lives, it was clear to Steve that his own father had been lacking. And the same could be said about Eddie, who was as impulsive as he was flighty. He was definitely the more romantic of the two but that wasn’t saying much.

His relationship with both was mostly physical. He’d never even brought up pups because who would mention that desire to a fuck buddy that they’d known for less than a year?

Best case scenario, neither of them wanted anything to do with it and Steve would be able to freely raise his pup with Robin’s help. He didn’t feel the need for a DNA test, the two alphas looked so different, Steve was sure he’d be able to eventually tell who the father was.

But telling two bullheaded men that one of them had fathered your child could be…Steve was going to use the word interesting. He didn’t think either of them wanted to raise a kid. But their alpha instincts might see the other as a competitor. Nevermind the fact that this was never exclusive. 

Steve got to Benny’s early, ready to mediate. Robin offered to be there as well, but Steve wanted it to start just between the three of them. Steve got a booth and just about ten minutes later, both Eddie and Billy arrived at the same time. Steve hid his smile behind the glass of juice he drank. It was almost like they had coordinated outfits. Billy wore leather pants and a denim jacket, while Eddie had a leather jacket and jeans.

They both stared at each other, then walked to the booth where Steve sat.

“Is this some kind of set up?”, Billy accused.

“Just sit, the both of you”, Steve said, pointing to the space across from him.

They took a moment to glare at each other before doing just that. Steve took a breath as a waitress came by to take their orders now that the whole party was here. He’d joked with Robin about getting them to pay for his meal, but now he felt too anxious. His stomach was twisted into knots. 

“I called you both here today because-”

“Wait, wait, wait, the first thing you should be doing is introducing us”, Eddie said. “I don’t even know who this guy is, or why we’re sitting on the same side.”

Billy looked Eddie up and down. “If this is your way of asking for a threesome, sorry to say, I don’t fuck alphas.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Billy this is Eddie, Eddie, this is Billy.”

“Okay”, Eddie frowned at Billy. “I second the ‘no threesome thing’.”

“Do you really think that’s why I invited you to a diner?”, Steve looked at them, incredulous.

“So if this isn’t a booty call then what is it, Harrington?”, Billy asked.

Well, here goes nothing. “I’m pregnant.”

…

“And one of you might be the father.”

….

“Um-”

“So you’re trying to baby trap us, is that it? What happened to keeping it casual?”, Billy’s scent was already starting to stink up the booth.

“Baby trapping implies I wanted to trap either of you”, Steve frowned. “I don’t see good fathers sitting across from me right now.”

“Ouch. Harsh”, Eddie said.

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth.” Steve crossed his arms. “I’m only telling you because I think you have a right to know. But I don’t need help raising this baby.”

“So you’re keeping it?”, Billy asked.

“Yes, I’m keeping.”

“Hey, just asking, it’s the twenty-first century. You’re not required to go through with it anymore”, Billy said with his hands up.

“Well I want to. I’ve always wanted to”, Steve admitted. “I’m keeping my pup and raising them and I don’t need anything from either of you. Not money or involvement or anything.”

“Shucks, it sounds like you don’t think we’re even capable”, Eddie said. “I think I’m starting to feel offended, what about you, Blondie?”

“Billy. And it doesn’t just sound like he thinks we’re incapable. Sounds like he thinks we’d be shit dads.”

“Hey, I make judgments based on what I see.”

“And you’ve only seen our dicks”, Eddie challenged. “We could be smash hits when it comes to being dads and you’d have no idea.”

“I can handle a bachelorette party of twenty, I could probably handle a kid”, Billy said, nonchalant now.

“A pup’s a hell of a lot different from mixing some drinks. OR fixing up a car”, Steve said before Eddie could retort.

“I wasn’t going to say that”, Eddie argued. “I was going to say that being a mechanic shows how patient and nurturing I can be.”

“Patient and nurturing? You?”, Steve raised a brow.

“Yeah!”

“I’ve literally seen you curse out that one kid at your job.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Dustin’s in college, he’s hardly a kid.”

“Either way, neither of you are ready for this”, Steve said.

“And you don’t think we could be ready in nine months?”, Billy asked.

Eddie grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you guys even want to raise this pup with me? What if it’s not even yours?”, Steve asked.

Eddie smirked at Steve, then Billy. “I mean, it’s a 50-50 chance, right?”

“Right”, Billy said.

And then they fist bumped each other and Steve just now realized he had lost control of the conversation. He didn’t know if he was mad or happy at the conclusion they’d come to. More than anything, he was just confused. When he got home, Robin was there, ready to dish.

“So how’d the baby daddy react?”

“Daddies?”

“Huh?”

“Daddies, Robin. I have two baby daddies.”

Part 3

[bon2bonn]

Flowers to you

Words count : 1.6k

*First life update!🌷 with little Mari, the firstborn of the Leclerc-Sainz clan .

The Small grunts made Carlos smile in amusement, slowing his steps a bit for his determined daughter to catch up with . her steady pace was due to the big bouquet she was holding onto for dear life , refusing to let anyone else hold it or even come close to touch it , a special gift for her Mama , insisting on each colour , type and even made sure to ask politely if they could wrap it in blue wrapping papers .

That's why now she's carefully making her way up to the front door supporting her precious flowers , pausing every now and then to adjust her small hands around it and huffing dramatically as she tried to and failed to blow away strands of hair that stubbornly fell over her face but that won't hinder her from doing what she planned to.

Carlos chuckled at her struggling form , asking softly " you want some help there Mari? " , she shook her head or at least tried , answering confidently " non papa , I got it! " he hummed unlocking the door to let her get in first before he did the same , both taking off their shoes before heading to the kitchen when they took notice of the quiet house, making sure to not make too much noise in order to maintain the peace. Both washed their hands and made their way to the counter, where she stood on on her stall , a set of steps for her to reach the counter, the sink ....etc , patiently waiting for her father to get one of her favourite vases down for them to work on.

" So , miss Mari what do we do first ?" Carlos asked with his hands on his hips, feigning confusion making her shake her head dramatically, pointing at the vase then at the counter " the vase , papa! Did you forget already ? " His face broke into a grin as he set the vase on the counter where she leaned over to inspect the inside and nodded in approval, then he turned again to grab his wife's clippers , waiting as little Mari carefully unwrap the flowers and untangle the secure knots at the stems, taking out one at a time to hand over to him to clip out the excess leaves , shorten the stems before taking them back to arrange into the vase to her liking.

She hummed a tone as she took one from his hand delicately adding it to the rest before picking another from the pile, nodding at her work with a focused look on her face , her brows creasing as she took out one that she didn't like and put it aside before proceeding, and once she's done she took out the blue ribbon out of her pocket , the lady on the counter was kind to give her a one to match with the wrapping , saying it was for good luck , so she now took it and wrapped it around the vase , asking with frown for her Papa's help when she couldn't make the knot as neet as she wanted, then she leaned back a bit to give it a final inspection, Carlos crossed his arms over the counter where he leaned on it after putting everything away and cleaned the remains of leaves and wrapping paper " so , what do you think miss Mari ? You think Mama would like them ? " She nods confidently her small hands on the counter " Mama will love them , they're her favourite and , we made it with love because, we love Mama , so she'll love them " he propped his head on his hands with his elbows still on the counter and asked in amusement " and how much do we love Mama ? " She gave him a wide grin answering " as much as I love papa " making him ask again " and how much do you love papa? " She held out her hands giving an exaggerated measure "as much as there is stars on the whole whole universe" he placed his hand over his heart Groaning dramatically " too sweet , ugh ! My Mariposa is too sweet what should I do !" He then scooped her up spinning around the counter , emitting a loud laugh out of her as her hair fell all over her face " papa! My hair! " He placed her down and sighed in content " alright how about we wash our hands and go show Mama what we made ? " Her face lit up and she hurriedly made her way to wash her hands, dried them and waited for him to do the same , he teased her by doing so slowly making her groan impatiently and throw her head back , just like her mother .

He then picked her with one arm and grabbed the vase with the other on their way out , heading up the stairs for the master bedroom where they left her resting before going out .

Her second pregnancy was a difficult one to say the least , suffering from long restless nights accompanied with back pains up to high blood pressure overall it was a complicated one , and on her latest appointment her doctor finally declared she needs to be on bed rest for the remaining period of the pregnancy, strongly advising them to change the birth plans to surgical option, to avoid any complications or risks as she put it, trying not to alarm the already stressed couple, but precautions are a must with her condition , specially through the last stages of it .

The moment they stepped into the room their daughter exclaimed at the sight of her reading peacefully with raised arms " Mama! " Making her look up , a smile lit up her face as she was greeted with them standing before her, with little Mari barley containing her excitement as Carlos set her down on the bed , leaning over to greet her with a kiss " hi" she smiled at the kiss , greeting back a quiet " hey " then leaned back to open her arms for a big hug from little Mari who crawled her way up to wrap her arms around her neck, leaving a kiss on her Mama's cheek and cuddled into her arms humming as she asked her " how was your trip ? ", both parents grins in amusement as she perked up in a burst of excitement pointing at the bedside table where Carlos put the vase earlier " look mama , we got your favourite " , she admired the blooming flowers along with the baby blue ribbon around it , appreciating the effort they put into it and turned to her " I love them baby " leaning to kiss her on the cheek " and the blue ribbon too " Mari's smile widened at that as she gently patted her Mama's belly " it's for Mateo " then she leaned down to leave a kiss on the side of it, speaking quietly to the baby " hi Mateo , we brought you and mama flowers today , I'm sure you're gonna like them when you're here , Mama liked them and I did too so I'll get some for you too , okay? " she promised unaware of the knowing look shared between her parents , they didn't reveal the baby's gender yet , but , Mari decided long ago that it's going to be a boy , even declaring his name to be Mateo just like she remembered from the dream she had , stubbornly refusing to settle on anything else .

Carlos then gave a sound of protest " what about me !? where's my kiss? , I did help! " his wife looked at her daughter in question , who in turn gave her a wide grin " he did Mama " making Carlos look at her pointedly, she then opened her arms for him , and he didn't waste time leaning over to receive a kiss on his cheek, then he turned his head to steal one from her lips , before leaning down to place another on her belly, before moving to the end of the bed to take her feet into his lap , massaging them to relieve some of the aches .

Meanwhile Mari leaned over to not so quietly whisper to her Mama with a frown on her face " Mama " receiving a humm before she proceeded in a serious manner making her mother frown in turn " what's wrong baby ?" Making her answer with a solemn look as she recalled her conversation with her uncle " I think thuthu is right " her mother then asked curiously, knowing her youngest brother's antics " really? And what did he say this time ? " She answered with a pout " papa is forgetting things , he didn't know what to do earlier !! , and thuthu said that means papa is getting old " that made Carlos snap his head their way , his smile fell and a frown on his face , his eye twitched as he called out in denial over his wife's loud snickers " AY ! I'm not old ! , he's lying! " He then glared at his wife who was cackling when their daughter innocently answered back with a sympathetic nod " he said old people say that too " .

[ms--lobotomy]

platonic malcador x reader??? he's such a girldad and we could be some imperial agent or smthn I don't really mind as long as I get that SWEET SWEET cute grandpa moments bc I know you will always cook

Howdy! Sorry this one's so late, I was finishing my degree so requests kind of fell off the face of the earth for a bit. I'll try to get a good portion of them done, though! Enjoy!

Summary: Talking shit with your honorary girldad Malcador

Word Count: 744

Content Warnings: No clear base coat for doing nails, sue me. Implied malcemps, if you squint, and also the implication that reader has sister(s).

Image Credit: @squishyowl

It wasn't often that you got to take some time for yourselves. But your particular order of inquisitors had a meeting today, and you were going to look good for it. So you'd excused yourself to your temporary quarters, sent a quick vox message to your friend, and waited on a response as you threw on whatever caught your eye and arranged a few colors of nail polish for the two of you to choose from.

Hey Malc, I have a bit of time before the meeting today. Wanna do our nails? Cool. Thanks. You signed off with your name, sinking back into your chair and sitting there for a second.

The walls felt like they were closing in on you. Sure, these were temporary quarters, but this room felt more like a closet than a temporary accommodation. You were hunched over the dresser, fixing your hair when you heard a knock at the door. Your head snapped around. A yawn was audible through the door, and you grinned.

"I haven't got all day," he said. You could hear the smile in his voice as you headed over to the door, opening it with a slight creak. His breathing was loud, but nothing out of the ordinary for him, and he carried a stunningly large staff. It almost didn't fit through the door, but as he made his way in, he made it work.

"Malc!" you exclaimed. "Come in, if you can fit-"

"This used to be a closet," he mumbled. He made his way to the chair that you'd set out for him, something that much mismatched the one you had taken for yourself. "Looks like they're putting people just anywhere these days."

"Oh," you said. If you were friends with the Sigilite, you didn't want to know how the others of your order were rooming. You blotted the thought out of your head, and turned to the set of nail polish you'd set out.

"So we have green, and teal, and..."

"Green."

You blinked. You ran a finger over the crimson red nail polish, but his eyes were set on the cool green polish at the very front of the row.

"Green it is," you said, as you slid the green over to him and took the red for yourself.

"No, no, I want to do each other's," he said. There was a softness to his voice, one that was always reserved for private interactions between the two of you.

"Sure!" you exclaimed, switching the red and the green before laying down some paper towels to catch any overflow. He watched with bemusement as you hurriedly took out the green polish and rolled up his sleeves, placing his bony hands against the paper towels.

"What's the rush?" he asked as you started to paint the first stripe onto them.

"Rush?" you asked. "Weren't you the one who said you didn't have all day or something?"

Malcador sat back in his chair. Despite it being the sturdier option, it made a slight creaking noise. "I did," he said, his eyes closing as you worked with the first layer. "I've just never had any daughters, is all."

You paused for a second before continuing to swipe color across his fingernails. "No daughters?" you asked, looking up at him incredulously. "You're Perpetual, right? You've had all the time in the world to... uh..." you trailed off before clearing your throat. "My bad."

He smiled a wry smile. "You could say the Primarchs were partially my doing, yes," he said. "I wanted girls, you see. Much less arguing, and activities like this are more likely to be in the picture."

"Less arguing?" you smirked before bursting into full on laughter. "Clearly you never grew up with any sisters." You tilted the paper towel a little bit as you moved onto his right hand, painting it just as carefully as you'd painted his left. Silence filled the room for a moment before he spoke again.

"None of the Primarchs ever did my nails," he said with a hint of playful spite to his voice. "Even the ones we found early. Horus was always too important for things like this."

"Horus, huh?" you asked before the next words flew out of your mouth without much thought. "Guess I'm just better than him."

"Be careful saying that," he replied as you finished his pinky. "But do say that in front of him. I want to know how it goes."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[qin-qin16]

Ooo, I do not have anything specific but doing something silly or fun with either Killer or Ink (or both but like idk how you'd manage that?? shrug lol)👉👈

(I put anon on, but you will know who this anyway LOL prob)

cw.: Cat coded Ink, gn!reader, Ink drinks the pink vial and becomes an affectionate kitty, is more platonic than anything, Reader is curious about the effects each vial has and Ink is delighted in showing them… 

note: I decided to write about him because I have just one work for him :( my boy needs more love! I may write about Killer later, who knows…

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me, I want to guess." You arrange the vials in front of you once more, lined up in the order of the rainbow, starting with red and going to purple. You place the ones that don't fit the rainbow scale, like pink and white, in a separate section.

"To be honest, I was expecting more colors. If these are what regulate your emotions, shouldn't there be, I don't know, maybe thirty of them?" You ask casually, examining one of the vials more closely between your fingers. You notice that, even when closed, there's still a faint smell of fresh paint coming from them.

"That's not the case! I take them all at once several times a day, and the combination of them is what creates various emotions," he explains, picking up one of the vials — you notice it's the red one, "These are just the primary or simpler emotions, like anger, sadness, joy, that sort of thing. It's the mix of all of them that makes me feel."

You chuckle, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"If it's that simple, then I guess red must be anger." You tilt your head toward the vial in Ink's hands. Your smile widens when he nods, his grin matching yours.

"That is right! And blue is for sadness, yellow is for joy, and—"

"I told you not to tell me!"  Just like many times before, your hand covers his mouth, stopping him from continuing, "Okay, okay, three are already out of the game." Seeing him nod — your hand still covering his mouth — you start examining the remaining vials in front of you.

Naturally, the ones that draw your attention the most are the ones set apart from the rest: the white and pink one. Maybe white is for tranquility? It seemed like the simplest guess — likely designed to help Ink guess them easily when he forgot.

With your other arm, you reach for the pink vial, inevitably moving away from Ink’s mouth.

“I have no idea what this one does,” he says as you lift the closed test tube above your heads, inspecting the liquid against the light.

“Neither do I,” you reply, rotating the vial in your hands before turning it toward Ink. “Drink it.”

Without a second thought, he takes the vial from you, uncapping it with his thumb and gulps down the pink liquid. You turn your face away as he drinks, still feeling a bit uneasy every time he eats or drinks something (how is it even possible for skeletons to swallow anything?).

“So? How do you feel?” When you finally turn around, you’re startled to see Ink so close to you, “Whoa! Hey…” An awkward laugh escapes your lips.

“I feel good…” You’ve never heard him speak like that — kind of mumbled and soft.

Before you can ask any more questions, Ink rests his head between your neck and shoulder, quickly wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing his body closer to yours. You can feel his ribs through your clothes, as well as the gentle rub of his skull against your neck.

“I would say you feel more clingy than good…” Your hands stay away from him, unsure where to place or what to do with them.

“I don’t know, I just want to be close to you,” he whispers against your skin, giving a gentle squeeze before relaxing his embrace again.

“Is this some kind of, I don’t know, affection vial or somet— are you purring?” A faint, gradually increasing sound like a motor came from Ink’s chest, traveling up his spine to his jaw and vibrating against your skin.

“You’re so warm, so soft…” Now you understood why he drank them all at once; it was clearly some kind of side effect from drinking an entire vial without the others to regulate it.

With little choice, you rest your hands on him, one moving to the back of his neck and gently caressing it — he emitted a sharp chirp as you did — while the other trails down his skeletal shoulders, lightly fidgeting with a part of Ink’s large brown scarf.

You let Ink pull you onto his lap, adjusting your position quickly so you remain facing each other, closely pressed together..

Before Ink buries his face in your shoulder again, he looks up at you — one of the rare moments when your eyes meet his eye sockets in a fixed staring —, with his chin resting softly against your chest.

Two pink hearts stare back at you, and you can’t help but feel a warm flush on your cheeks as you notice the rapid thump-thump of your own heartbeat.

[roguelov]

I'm reading mythos by Stephen Fry rn (it's basically retelling the myths of the Greek gods) and it mentioned morpheus both as the god from mythology and as the character from the comics and it gave me an idea

y/n is very interested in Greek mythology, but didn't know that the gods and goddesses are real until meeting dream and hob.

cue y/n begging dream to set up a meeting between them and their favorite gods/goddesses (artemis my beloved <3)

which could also lead to some jealousy from dream and hob, to see y/n reduced to a blushing mess in front of the god/goddess lol

ohhh but also having dream tell the real stories of the gods?? since the myths we know aren't always accurate or lost to time

OR OR OR MEETING CALLIOPE??? y/n ditching dream and hob in order to talk to her about the gods and stuff???

oof okay i should stop here before it gets to long lol

YEESSSS I ADORE THIS AND FIND THIS SO FUNNY AND SO CUTE WITH THEIR JEALOUSY 😂

“Please?” You clasped your hands together. “Pretty please.”

Hob snorted, “Come on, love, what’s the harm?”

Morpheus closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. “The gods - no matter the religion they associate with - are not to be trifled with.”

“Just a small, tiny meeting,” you begged. “Like Artemis? I’m not asking to speak with Zeus or Ares … although I would find it interesting to speak with the God of War -“

“No.”

You frowned, “… no?”

Morpheus groaned, “No, as in you will not speak with Ares.”

You huffed under your breath, “I’m sure Ares would like speak with Hob, he would love to talk with a warrior/soldier.”

Hob raised his hands and nervously chuckled, “Perhaps another time.”

Your gaze turned back to Morpheus. “… please?”

Morpheus sighed heavily, “Artemis?”

You nodded excitedly.

“I will try to arrange a meeting, but only this once.”

You beamed, and instantly engulfed Morpheus in a hug. “Thank you!”

You darted off, elated and nervous. Hob stepped up to Morpheus smiling as you ran off. “Any regrets?”

Morpheus shook his head, “No, it is a simple meeting, nothing more. I am only pleased it is Artemis and no one more … problematic.”

Hob snickered.

***

You stood in a garden filled with most of the Greek gods and goddesses. Such parties - or gatherings - were a naturally occurrence among them, happy to gossip and reconnect in this modern age. Morpheus always had an open invitation, but declined.

Until now.

Now, adorn in Ancient Greek wear, you anxiously waited. Morpheus had excused himself to find Artemis while Hob found himself in a conversation with Dionysus as he tried to retrieve refreshments. As you twiddled your thumbs, someone approached you: a woman with kind eyes and a beautiful smile. Her smile only grew as she walked towards you, and your nerves skyrocketed.

Who is she? Shit, shit, shit. Oh, where is Hob and Morpheus? Come on, please!

“So you and the immortal have caught Oneiros’s eye, yes?” She asked.

“Oh, uh, yes,” you stuttered out.

“Relax, my dear, I mean you no harm. I know you are seeking company with someone else but please may I have a small conversation with one who is dating my dear ex’s husband?”

Your eyes widened then muttered, “Calliope.”

She nodded, “I am.”

Instantly, your mood shifted. You were thrilled to meet her, both for previous relationship with Morpheus but also to meet a goddess. You stepped forward, eyes twinkling. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“How sweet, it is an honor to meet you as well.”

“I have so many questions for you,” you blurted out.

“I’m sure you do.”

You shook your head, “It’s not about Morpheus, I’m actually interested in your life and your work … well most of the gods I am but I would to hear your story. And life either the other gods, and -“

She chuckled, “My, my what a curious brain of yours. Surely you keep Oneiros on his toes.”

You smiled sheepishly, “I suppose, along with Hob too.”

“A trait I’m sure they adore.”

You blushed. “… I would hope.”

“Well, dear, ask me anything you want,” Calliope smiled.

Off in the distance, Morpheus froze. He hadn’t located Artemis yet. He turned back to check on you only to freeze in place. Hob approached him, then followed his gaze.

“You know her?” Hob asked, sipping his wine.

“… she is my ex,” Morpheus whispered.

Hob coughed. “Really? That’s Calliope.”

“Yes.”

Hob glanced back over, seeing you giggle as you hung to each of Calliope’s words. “I think she’s about to steal our love.”

Morpheus sighed, “Perhaps this was a poor idea.”

Hob clapped Morpheus’s back, “Ah don’t fret about it.”

Morpheus’s eyes slowly scanned the vast garden seeing how a few other gods turned their gaze upon you. Gods who you should steer clear of, and others that you will talk all night with if you had the chance. “… it still does not sit well with me,” he grumbled under his breath.

[tonixe]

headcannons spending christmas with coriolanus

A/N: I did both, lmao. Merry Christmas pookies. &lt;3

A/N: I did both, lmao. Merry Christmas pookies. &lt;3

WARNING: None, just pure fluff, wait...some nsfw???

PAIRING: Coriolanus x reader

WORD COUNTER: 654

✧ Imagine spending Christmas with Coriolanus snow. The tree would of course be all his, he would always pick out all the decorations, the star, ornaments, and no light because it gives the tree a tacky appeal.

✧ The color would be of course red, white, and gold. You tried to add some colors for the holiday appeal but it was always struck down, even if you begged him to. The enormous tree, with a red and gold lining of the tree skirt underneath it, and ornaments hanging on the tree, coordinately arranging it in order and a sparkling golden star on top, perfectly bringing in the elements of the evergreen tree.

✧ Though you didn't get to touch the tree, you didn't mind, you knew he knew what was doing, and the tree looked great. "It's perfect," you said, smiling at him. Looking up at the beautiful tree.

✧ You loved Christmas, saving recipes for Christmas for special desserts you wanted to surprise Coriolanus with. You were busy in the kitchen, making some gingerbread walls, putting the dough onto the baking tray, and loading it into the oven. Arranging the edible decoration of candy to decorate, you made sure to attentively make sure the small candies matched the ones of the tree. Red, gold and already made white. You hoped Coriolanus would like it, and you baked some cookies on the side for him.

✧ Christmas was something that shouldn't disappoint, it did come only once a year, and the biggest holiday of the season for most, setting the timer, as you took off the apron around your waist, being surprised by Coriolanus with his hands around your waist, his lips connecting with yours, bending yourself towards his kiss.

✧ Spending Christmas with Coriolanus, he would always surprise you with a mistletoe with a steamy kiss, his hands around your waist.

✧ Coriolanus would love to surprise you with big gifts, like diamond bracelets, necklaces, shoes, or expensive fabrics. Christmas day, he would just shower you with gifts, the maids and Butlers lining up to show you the special gifts he purchased. Your eyes glowing with delight, crossing your legs at looking the perfectly wrapped and ribbon tied gifts.

✧ It wouldn't be Christmas without a Christmas dinner, all kinds of food, luxurious and delicious on the grand table, sitting horizontally away from Coriolanus, your eyes sparkling with awe, with the surprise he had given you. "Corio, is this all for me?" you questioned, as he nodded. Well, he had to treat the prize jewel of Panem to glorious things, and second to that the mother of offsprings.

✧ You would of course have a gift for Coriolanus, a special one. One that you thought of with time and even asked his cousin, Tigris. Holding a special box hidden within a gift you wanted to surprise him like he did with you.

✧ Soon giving the special gift to him, butterflies fluttering into your stomach, feeling your palms sweat, and an anxious feeling circling you. His slender finger opened up the red satin box, and his eyes widened at what was inside a bejeweled snow charm bracelet. "Do you like it...Corio" you asked hesitantly, "It's perfect," he said, taking out the jewelry, "You sure?" you questioned.

"Yes, it's wonderful" He smiled his eyes flickering at you, "I'll wear it, every single day" He looked at the sparkling jewelry on his wrist, "I'm glad..let me put it on for you" You smiled, getting up, inching towards him. Placing yourself on his lap, and delicately putting the piece of jewelry around his wrist, "Thank you darling" you place your hands on the side of your face, kissing him... his hands on your waist.

Before you withdrew, "Merry Christmas, Corio" you whispered..."Merry Christmas, my dove" he pushed the strands of your hair over your ear, his eyes staring at yours, as the crackling fire rang out.

[extasiswings]

the more it heals, the worse it hurts

I’m not sorry, but I might be a little sorry.  Have some post-6x10 Eddie and Bobby in the hospital.

Bobby knows he should call Athena.  He’s dead on his feet, old ghosts circling around him and grief bearing down on his shoulders with the weight of the world.  He needs his wife.  It’s just that kind of night.    

He lasted longer than he expected though.  He’s kept the ghosts, the grief, the blood of long-scarred over wounds ripped open afresh at bay for hours, finding ways to keep busy.  Doing his job.  Calling the station to arrange coverage.  Speaking with doctors to explain what happened.  Taking care of his people—when Chim brought Maddie in, Bobby was the one to pass along the updates he’d been given from the medical staff.  When Hen needed to call Karen, Bobby found her a phone.  And Eddie—

Well.

Honestly, Bobby isn’t sure he’s done much for Eddie at all.  Not since that initial moment, pulling Eddie away, barking orders to drive the ambulance.  If he’s really honest with himself, he’s been avoiding the other man since they arrived at the hospital.  Because there is something in Eddie right now, a brittle fragility, that Bobby has seen before, that he feels himself in a different way, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to be what Eddie needs.  He doesn’t know if he can help without breaking himself.  At least, not without setting up a safety net first.  

He calls Athena.  

He closes his eyes.

He breathes.

He prays.

And then, he pushes himself off the wall of the stairwell he had ducked into and resolves to be Atlas for a little while longer.

He can take it.

Bobby finds Eddie at the furthest edge of the waiting room, a corner that’s a little more empty, a little more private.  He’s quite far from the Buckleys, Bobby notes absently.  

Eddie doesn’t react when Bobby settles into the chair next to him.  His gaze is fixed on the wall, but also distant, like he’s somewhere else completely, seeing something else completely.  Silence stretches between them for so long that at first Bobby almost wonders if he’s misjudged the situation, if Eddie really doesn’t want to talk after all.  But Bobby waits—patient, steady, calling on all the wealth of experience his life has brought him to keep himself composed.  And finally, Eddie cracks.

“He didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie says.  He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t look at Bobby at all, but it’s something.

“What?”

Eddie’s throat works as he swallows.  His hand comes up to wipe at his mouth roughly like he’s clearing away some invisible stain.

“Christopher,” he clarifies.  “When Shannon—I was in the ambulance, I got to say goodbye, but she was gone as soon as we got to the hospital and there was nothing—”  He shakes his head, his eyes growing even more distant.  “I just had to go home and tell him she was gone.  And I’ve always felt like that was unfair, but at the same time part of me is grateful that he didn’t have to see her like that, that his last memory of her doesn’t involve a tube in her throat.”

Bobby opens his mouth, then closes it.  Waits a moment more.  Because he can see the cracks in the man in front of him, see the fraying, fraying threads, and while he’s willing to pick up the pieces, he doesn’t want to be the reason Eddie shatters.  So he waits, and lets Eddie wind his way to whatever he needs to get out.

“But…he didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie repeats, his voice cracking.  He squeezes his eyes shut.

Bobby’s chest aches when he draws in his next breath.  The weight on his shoulders tips precariously, threatening to crush him.  But he resets, rebalances.  

He does what he has to do.  

When he sets a hand to Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie flinches but ultimately leans into it.  After a moment, he lifts his head and finally meets Bobby’s eyes.  The look in them steals the air from Bobby’s lungs—it’s raw, agonized, wild…and familiar.  Bobby’s seen that look before, in his own eyes.  In his mirror.  For years after he lost his first wife and his children, he saw it reflected back at him every morning.  And now he’s seeing it in Eddie’s, far deeper and sharper than the last time they had been in this situation, because this time Eddie’s allowing himself to really feel everything.

For better or worse.

“I don’t know how to go home,” Eddie confesses.  “Because when I get there, I have to wake him up and tell him and bring him here.  And I can’t do that—I can’t put him through that.  But I also can’t not do it either, because if Buck—”  Another crack.  Another pause.  Another swallow.

Bobby squeezes Eddie’s shoulder.  And his heart bleeds.  

“He didn’t get to say goodbye last time.”  A whisper.  And yet somehow also a plea.  To God?  The universe?  “He deserves the chance to do that.  He deserves the option.”

“Yes, he does,” Bobby replies quietly.

“It’s not fair,” Eddie snaps, his hands coming up to rake through his hair in frustration.  “He finally moved on, he built something new, he got attached to someone else, and now—it’s not fair.”

And there it is.  The flare in Eddie’s eyes, the hitch of his voice that tells Bobby everything Eddie is trying not to say outright, provides final confirmation of the truth of all the stray thoughts Bobby has had over the years, questions that he’s kept locked away and elected not to fixate on because they weren’t his business.

Because before, they really were talking about Christopher.  But Bobby knows better than to think that’s still all they’re doing now.  

“I don’t know how to do this,” Eddie admits, and Bobby knows he’s referring to more than just going home.  “I don’t know how to do this if he doesn’t wake up.”  

And that right there is why Bobby had been avoiding this.  Because he’s not sure he knows either.  

He’s not prepared to lose another son.  

At the end of the hall, the entrance doors open.  Athena walks through.  And suddenly, the weight on Bobby’s shoulders eases.  

“You don’t have to have the answers yet,” he replies, pushing himself up from the chair.  “You just have to start somewhere.  And you don’t have to do any of it alone.”

“Come on,” he adds with his hand still firmly fixed around Eddie’s shoulder.  He nods in Athena’s direction.  “We’ll take you home.  And bring you back if you want.”

And with a heavy sigh and one last pause, Eddie allows Bobby to help him to his feet.  

This, he can do.  The rest…they can work all of that out later.      

[violettavonviolet]

Long Harry Potter fic recs

I tend to revert back to ye olden ways whenever I'm stressed, so of course I've been going down a rabbit hole of increasingly longer Harry Potter fics. I found some hidden (and not so hidden) gems along the way, and I figured I'd rec them for everyone to enjoy.

Most are slash, some are gen, pairings vary but they are all harry centric!

Fics are completed and arranged by length, do send the authors some love! If you have a specific ship you want recs for, just message me, I probably have some!

The Best

say_no_more

Summary:

Cedric demands only the best of himself, and for himself. The best marks in school, the best position on the quidditch team, and the best reputation. When it's time for him to begin dating, he won't settle for less than the best partner, as well.

80k Cedric/Harry

Independent Study

SomewheresSword

Summary:

Dumbledore doesn't make it in time for Harry's trial, and the outcome is very different. Harry is expelled, his wand snapped.

But he refuses to give up. And he is done waiting around for Albus Dumbledore to give him information.

Deciding to take his life into his own hands, Harry asks for training from several Order members, preparing himself to fight Voldemort while the whole wizarding world believes he's helpless and back in the muggle world. 

Meanwhile, his friends are at Hogwarts, tackling their own problems in the form of Dolores Umbridge. Harry hadn't expected the separation to be so difficult - or for a certain mischievous redhead to make the waiting game they'd entered into so very excruciating. 

He might have lost his home in Hogwarts, but with Sirius and Remus around, Harry begins to learn that rebuilding a family isn't as hard as he'd anticipated.

144k George/Harry

Green & Gold

JessalynMichele

Summary:

Harry Potter is a traumatized war veteran in a body that won’t die and a mind that won’t rest.

Jasper Hale is intrigued by this new student who looks so vulnerable but sends off such overwhelming waves of angst.

Everyone else is just concerned.

Set post Battle of Hogwarts, starting in the summer before Bella Swans junior year.

144k Jasper Hale / Harry Potter twilight crossover

(this is a series, but the works are finished in themselves)

good night, darling

purplemineralwater

Summary:

"I can send you back. Not to your body, but to one many years ago. Harry, you must fix the natural order of Death, on my behalf."

Harry's breath faltered. It was all so confusing... Harry had died. He had died and spoken to Death and suddenly he was standing in Hogwarts, in 1942, and the Sorting Hat had just pronounced him Slytherin. Death had chuckled at that.

Tomarry 160k

 Digging for the Bones by Paganaidd

Paganaidd

Summary:

Rather than allowing Harry to stay at Diagon Alley after he blew up Aunt Marge, the Ministry sends Harry back to the Dursleys. Harry returns to school after a terrible summer, to find that he's not the only one with this kind of secret. A student has been killed by his family. New screening measures are put into place by the Ministry: Every student must be given a medical exam and interview to look for child abuse. With Dumbledore facing an inquiry, Snape is entrusted with the task of making sure EVERYONE receives one.

Answer to the "New measures for screening abuse" challenge at Potions and Snitches.

The first chapter contains a character death and the whole story is quite dark. It begins at the beginning of Prisoner of Azkaban and is AU thereafter. Also note: this story is a "Snape is Harry's biological dad" story. This is not supposed to be the central theme of the story, but people have gotten annoyed that I didn't tell them at the beginning.

200k severitus

The Fourth Horseman

NinjaPandaScholar

Summary:

If anyone's due an identity crisis, it's Harry Potter...especially if he's not really a Potter...and possibly not able to die...yeah, it's been a rough few years...maybe life. Running from his problems and grief sounds like a great idea, becoming a hunter might be fun, too bad it just so happens to be the apocalypse. George is certain this is all just Harry's luck and along for the insane ride and the wonderful distraction. Dean and Sam Winchester are exceptionally confused about why two random Brits are following them around now, and why hasn't anyone seen a single omen for the Fourth Horseman of the apocalypse, Death?

Castiel/Harry supernatural crossover 200k

The Medium Between Life and Death

 NinjaPandaScholar

Summary:

There were very few things in Harry Potter's life that he was certain of. There was one absolute certainty though; he'd felt it in his bones for as long as he could remember. He, Harry Potter, was dead. The living people around him might not believe, but the dead sure did. Oh well, it doesn't impact his life much. Besides, it's nice to get help with his schoolwork from his parents.

250k Cedric/Harry

All Hail the Dark Lord, Or Something Idiotic Like That

NinjaPandaScholar

Summary:

Harry Potter had a plan...it wasn't a very good plan, but at least it was simple.

Step 1: Don't die from the insanely difficult ritual

Step 2: Cause as much chaos to the timeline as possible before getting killed and/or arrested

As it goes, it was really simple...until it became clear he wasn't traveling back in time alone. Now the whole plan has to change.

Step 1: Don't die from the ritual

Step 2: Kill off current Dark Lord

Step 3: Establish following to become new Dark Lord

Step 4: Overthrow Ministry

Step 5: Cause as much chaos to the timeline as possible

Step 6: Keep boyfriend alive and not mad at him

It was a work in progress, but plans hadn't worked out well for Harry in the past regardless. Oh well, it's not like he could make things worse...

270k Percy/Harry

Harry Potter and the Welcome to the World of Grey

sobsicles

Summary:

When Harry fails to keep his anger at bay and Voldemort possesses his mind, the events that follow lead him down a long road to realizing the world isn't as black and white as it seems. 

Chaos, hilarity, and tragedy ensue with a Dark Lord being honest all the time, a rival becoming something else, and a world demanding to be saved. Featuring frightened Death Eaters, deep conversations with a monster, Pureblood traditions being ridiculous, and the fight to do the right thing with no true options. 

Harry's life just gets more and more bizarre with each passing moment. 

~~~

Or, the one where Harry's life gets split in half, and he has to figure out how to bring it back together.

450k Drarry

A Very Slytherin Harry

Creator:

geoffaree

Blaise/Harry 630 k not complete but finished in itself series

[justallihere]

Hi there! Welcome - I'm Alli (she/her). I like concerts, books, and science. My favorite color is pink and my favorite band is Fall Out Boy. At this time I'm writing fics for The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) series, but someday in the future I might expand that list. Thanks for joining the chaos!

Most of you probably know me from AO3 by the same username. Below you can find my entire masterlist of fics as well as some frequently asked questions. If there's something you'd like to know that isn't addressed below, my ask box is always open 🫶🏻

✨ masterlist:

storm in the quiet (E)

Xaden/Violet, arranged marriage AU, 342k words, complete

It took only a few minutes for Violet to figure out what purpose she served. No one said it out loud—not yet, but they’d get there—but they kept throwing out words like formalizing alliances and uniting two groups, and she understood. Violet was a sacrificial lamb, and Xaden Riorson was the wolf, and her slaughter would be their marriage.

(find sitq deleted moments here, here, here, and here)

all resistance wearing thin (E)

Imogen/Garrick, one shot set in the sitq world, 7.3k words, complete

It was a dangerous thing to be alone with Imogen Cardulo.

simmer (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The night that Tairn began channeling to Violet, she didn’t stumble upon Xaden in the snow. She found someone else to take care of her, and when Xaden realized, he was less than amused.

violence in my veins (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The Riders’ Quadrant had something of an obsession with piercings. The only person Violet Sorrengail knew without any was, of course, Xaden Riorson. Or so she thought.

invisible in a violet sea (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 2k words, complete

“It’s just me here, love. Tell me what you need so badly, Violence.” There was something about the way he said the private nickname in this context, with his voice low and husky, that made it feel entirely different from every other time he called her that. Like it was reverent and special and it, like her, belonged only to him. “You,” she said. “I need you, Xaden.”

void of all composure (E)

Liam/Violet/Cam, one shot, 2.8k words, complete

Liam Mairi figured it couldn’t be that hard to keep Violet Sorrengail out of trouble. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the fact that her version of trouble was Cam Tauri, and Liam was certainly going to go down with her.

flower bud in concrete (T)

Xaden/Violet, pregnancy fic, companion to somehow i still love you more, 7.5k words, complete

There was nothing Violet wanted more than to complete her family with Xaden with a child of their own. It took longer than they thought, but the wait was worth it.

somehow i still love you more (G)

Xaden/Violet, kid fic, companion to flower bud in concrete, 800 words, complete

Xaden’s favorite time was the middle of the night, when his wife slept peacefully and he got to hold his daughter and watch the snow falling.

come together, come apart (E)

Liam/Violet/Xaden, one shot, 12.4k words, complete

Following the battle at Resson, Violet felt out of control in the wake of so many lies revealed. Xaden and Liam offered her a way to take some of it back.

✨FAQs:

Do you have an update schedule?

Nope. Fanfic is a hobby for me—I have other responsibilities and a full-time job. I write because it’s fun, and in order for it to stay that way I write and post as I’m able, and sometimes I step away for a week or two to maintain my own sanity. Unless I specifically say it, I promise my fics aren’t abandoned just because it’s been a few days or even weeks without a new chapter. Please don’t ask me about updates!

Do you take requests for fics?

I do not. I write things that I love or am inspired by. Trying to conform to specific requests kind of sucks the joy out of writing for me.

Can I write or draw something inspired by/based on/in the same universe as one of your fics?

Yes. Please just let me know once you post and link back to my work in some way!

Can I bind your fics?

Yes, for personal use only. You may not commission any third party that would make a profit off binding the fic to do the work for you. You may not sell bound copies of my fics. Everything I’ve written has been done for free, as my own personal love letter from me to fandom. Keep fanfiction safe and legal. And send me pictures—I’d love to see your finished projects.

Can I translate your fic to another language?

I would be honored! Please keep all translations to AO3 only and use the “this work is a translation” feature to link back to the original. I do not consent to my work being reposted to other sites in any way.

Will you ever write your own book?

I'd love to one day! I have lots of ideas floating around at all times, even though I don't talk about them much. I promise if I ever publish any original works, you'll know.

Will storm in the quiet have a sequel?

Nope.

✨ other info:

Find some of my favorite book recs here

Some great Fourth Wing fic recs here (my own faves and a lot of other good ones that I missed in the comments)

If you’re interested in what I might be currently reading, click here