#this was inspired the above a while ago while i was on my bed and someone was just randomly playing it in the back

[flamestar126]

Somethin' Stupid - Frank Sinatra, Nancy Sinatra

[theostrophywife]

stop the world i wanna get off with you.

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: stop the world i wanna get off with you by arctic monkeys. author’s note: the theo brain rot is so real for me besties. i kid you not i listened to the song on repeat while writing this because my mans is arctic monkeys coded. plus, it was only a matter of time before we saw some smutty action from my favorite slutherin 😏 part one: baby won't you be my girl?

You were not a morning person. 

Theo knew that. Hell, everyone in Slytherin knew that. Waking you up before noon on the weekend was a one way ticket to a world of pain. For some reason, your boyfriend was determined to make the top of your hit list this morning. 

You groaned as Theo shifted beneath you, rousing you from sleep. He stroked your hair gently and pressed a kiss on your temple. “I have to go to practice, amorina.” 

Sunlight streamed in through the skylight above Theo’s dorm, reflecting the rippling waves of the Black Lake across your boyfriend’s goose down comforter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled against his throat, relishing in his warmth. “Please, Teddy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You said that five minutes ago, sweetheart. Do you want your sweet and sexy boyfriend to be maimed by his captain?”

“If Malfoy so much as touches a hair on your head, I’ll turn him into a ferret again and set him loose in the Forbidden Forest.” You snuggled closer and twined your legs together. “Let’s see how threatening he can be against Aragog.”

“Sometimes you genuinely scare me, Y/N.” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “But apparently, fear is a very effective aphrodisiac for me. I’m learning a lot of new things about myself.”

“I can threaten you some more if you want,” you murmured sleepily. “As long as you stay in bed with me, Teddy.”

Theo groaned as you kissed his neck. “You’re absolutely cruel, you know that?” He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips against yours. You sighed dreamily into the kiss, morning breath and all. 

Even though you’ve only been officially dating for three months, it felt like you and Theo had been together for a lifetime. You were already inseparable before, but after his confession at the quidditch game after party, you spent nearly every waking moment together. Hence waking up in his bed. 

Theo placed a final kiss on the tip of your nose. “Now I really have to go.” You sighed in defeat, pouting like a petulant child. Your boyfriend laughed. “I’ll see you in the stands, babe.”

“Fine,” you mumbled grumpily. 

You watched as Theo hastily threw on his quidditch uniform, admiring the view of his sunkissed skin and toned chest and abs. Thank Merlin for quidditch. 

The cheeky tosser winked before heading for the pitch. You turned over in bed, burying yourself in Theo’s scent as you drifted back to sleep. 

Several hours later, you finally managed to get dressed and dragged yourself to the Great Hall for a late lunch. When you got to your usual table, you found the boys and Pansy waiting for you. Draco and Mattheo were talking in hushed tones, no doubt discussing their strategy to destroy the Ravenclaws while Enzo scarfed down a plate of steak and eggs like his life depended on it. Pansy watched in disgust, wrinkling her nose at your friend. 

“For Salazar’s sake, Lorenzo. You’re going to choke to death and I refuse to resuscitate you.”

“Don’t worry, Enzo,” you said as you slid in next to him. “I’m sure we can find a volunteer to perform mouth to mouth on you.”

As if on cue, a gaggle of fourth years giggled at the end of the table. Enzo didn’t seem to notice. Beside him, Blaise met your eye and shook his head. The two of you often joked that Draco took all the arrogance in their family’s gene pool, leaving poor Enzo hopelessly oblivious. The fact that sweet Lorenzo was related to someone as arrogant as Malfoy never failed to completely baffle the mind. 

“Well don’t you look adorable, Y/N?” Draco drawled. “All decked out in your boyfriend’s jersey.”

You looked down at the emerald and silver jersey with the number 6 embroidered on the front, which was so big on you that the hem hit your knees. Matching streaks of your house colors adorned your cheeks and you had pulled your hair back with a pair of charmed serpent clips that writhed through your pigtails every so often.

“And up before mid afternoon, no less,” Mattheo commented. 

You frowned, flicking him off before reaching for a sandwich. “Speaking of my boyfriend. Where is the little rascal?”

“Last I checked he was still on the pitch,” Draco said as you stuffed a few chips into your mouth. “Practicing to show off in front of you, I imagine.”

“I’ve seen him play before.” 

Mattheo stole a chip from your plate. “Yes, but not as his girlfriend.”

You smacked his hand away and he gasped dramatically. Mattheo fetched something out of his robes and set it down in front of you. The small glass vial shimmered in the light. 

“Your boyfriend wanted me to give you this.” 

A motion sickness draught. Theo knew how queasy and nauseous you got during his quidditch games, so he’d concocted your own special cure for it. Hot and smart. Gods, you were lucky.

You flushed, pocketing the potion. “Thanks.”

“You idiots better win,” Pansy said. “Or else all my hard work for tonight’s after party will go to waste.”

Draco scoffed. “You mean our hard work?” He turned over to you, frowning. “Pans over here had us working harder than a house elf. I’ve got glitter in places glitter should never be.”

“Fitting for someone who thinks the sun shines out of his arse. Maybe it’ll finally teach you some humility, Malfoy.”

Mattheo draped an arm around your shoulder. “You know why our sweet little Pansy’s got her wand in a twist though, right?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She finally plucked up the courage to invite a certain Ravenclaw to the after party.”

You squealed in delight. “Is that true, Pans? Did you finally ask Luna out?”

Pansy glared at you, practically hissing as she grabbed your elbow. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you? I don’t think they heard you across the room.” 

You snorted. Your best friend has always been a little tightly wound, but Pansy Parkinson with a crush was a whole different animagus. 

“Well, I, for one, am excited for this development in your love life,” you exclaimed, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s about time you did something about this little crush.”

“Says the witch who took twelve years to admit her feelings,” Pansy said with an affectionate eye roll. “Sorry love, but I’m not taking advice from you.”

“I’m choosing to attribute that to first date jitters and not a blatant insult against your best and most loyal friend.” You picked at your sandwich, waving a pickle in the air excitedly. “Don’t be nervous, Pans. She’s going to love you.” 

The encouragement was met with an elbow to your ribs. You paused mid-chew, ready to give Pansy a peace of your mind when a soft voice interrupted you. 

“Hi, guys,” greeted Luna Lovegood. She wore a striped blue and bronze sweater, representing the colors of her house. Strapped to her back was a set of feathered eagle wings that nearly dragged to the floor. “I love your snake clips, Y/N. It’s always great to see displays of house spirit. Beware of the nargles, though. They do love shiny things.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them, Luna.” You said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to your commentary tonight. It’s going to be a heated match between our houses, but one thing’s for certain. The after party will be absolutely mental no matter who wins. Isn’t that right, Pans?” 

Pansy nodded, the action making her sleek bob graze her sharp cheekbones. You always thought that your friend possessed an austere sort of beauty, but everything about her seemed to soften as she turned her attention on Luna. 

“We can still count on you to make it tonight, right Lovegood?” There was a hint of playfulness in Pansy’s tone that you rarely heard her use. You couldn’t help but smirk. Pansy Parkinson fancied the absolute pants out of Luna Lovegood.

Luna smiled shyly, hiding beneath a strand of platinum blonde hair. “Thank you for the invitation, Pansy. I look forward to seeing everyone tonight.” 

“See you tonight, Luna.”

Luna gave your table a friendly wave before returning to her own fellow Ravenclaws. You waited until she was out of ear shot before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“See you tonight Luna,” you repeated, putting on your best impression of Pansy’s husky voice. “Pansy Parkinson’s totally going to snog Luna Lovegood tonight!” 

“Oh, shut up,” replied Pansy. She tried her best to look annoyed, but the small smile on her face made it rather unconvincing. 

After teasing your friend for at least another hour, the two of you finally headed down to the quidditch pitch. The boys left long ago, presumably to warm up before the big game. You followed Pansy into the stands, cringing slightly at how high up the seats were. 

Across the pitch, the feedback from Luna’s sonoroused voice rumbled through the crowd. “Welcome fellow students. Join me in kicking off this long awaited match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the house of yours truly. As always, the goal is to provide live updates and unbiased commentary throughout the game, but I make no promises. Even a Corkendoodle wouldn’t be able to resist showing a little partiality. Now without further ado, let the games begin!”

The crowd roared as players from each side soared through the air at breakneck speed. You gripped the railing, thankful for Theo’s concoction as you squinted at the blur of players. As always, Madam Hooch kicked off the game by releasing a set of bludgers and the elusive golden snitch. With bated breath, you watched as she threw the quaffle into the air which marked the official start of the match. 

A familiar figure zoomed past you, emerald robes streaming behind him as he caught the quaffle and cradled it under his arm. Theo circled through the air, easily outmaneuvering the chasers from the opposing team. He flew straight for a blonde Ravenclaw, making the poor fifth year think that they were going to collide before he swerved at the last second and looped around the frightened player. 

“And that’s Nott of Slytherin with an excellent fake out,” Luna announced in her dreamy voice. “Oddly enough, this chaser is heading in the opposite direction of the goalposts. Another clever tactic, I presume.”

Theo brought his broom to a stop directly in front of you, hovering in mid-air while he cradled the quaffle underneath one arm. He immediately broke out into a grin when he saw you wearing his jersey. 

“In a turn of events, Nott visits the Slytherin stands for a little chat with his friends,” commented Luna. “Actually, that’s his lovely girlfriend Y/N. I did warn her about attracting the Nargles, but nevertheless those serpent clips are a work of art. Oh look, there’s Pansy Parkinson! I know she looks a bit intimidating at first, but she’s really quite nice.” 

Beside you, Pansy turned as red as a tomato. You stifled a giggle just as Theo pulled close, his watercolor eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“My jersey looks good on you, Y/N.” Theo drawled, taking the time to flirt despite the fact that he was currently in the middle of a game. He leaned in and whispered low so only you could hear, “But I bet it would look even better on my floor.”

“Win this match and you might get your wish, babe.”

A smirk curved against his lips. “You evil little temptress. I hope you know that I’m holding you to that,” he inched closer, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “Do I at least get a kiss from my good luck charm?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something right now? Like, I don't know, playing the bloody quidditch game!”

He shrugged, winking at you in that cheeky way of his. “I’m perfectly capable of multitasking.” 

Just then, a bludger whizzed past the stands, but Theo was entirely unbothered as he flipped over on his broom to avoid the hit. Your boyfriend hung upside down, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. “Now about that kiss, dolcezza.”

“That’s quite a creative way to avoid a bludger,” Luna continued. “I once hung upside down in a tree in search of moon frogs and it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but not the most uncomfortable either. Oh! It looks like things are heating up for this lovely couple.”

“You’re an absolute menace, Theodore,” you said with an exasperated sigh before pulling him by the collar and kissing him. The logistics were complicated by the fact that he was currently airborne, but Theo smiled against your lips all the same. 

“A good luck kiss,” Luna said with delight. “Those two are absolutely adorable, aren’t they? Ah, young love.”

Satisfied, Theo flipped right side up and palmed the quaffle in his hand. “You hear that, babe? We’re absolutely adorable.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. Now go out there and kick some Ravenclaw arse!”

Thanks to Teddy’s potion, you actually managed to keep your eyes open for the entirety of the game. It was a heated match with both teams playing with equal ferocity, but the boys had the upper hand. They moved as one, predicting each other’s moves from years and years of practice. Even the newest additions, Violet and Tracey, seemed to fit seamlessly into the group. 

By the time you reached the tail end of the game, your throat felt raw from cheering and screaming. Pansy was in a worse state, hurling insults when one of the Ravenclaw beaters attempted to grab the tail end of Blaise’s broom. 

“That was obviously a bloody fucking foul!” Pansy screamed. 

“Some colorful words from the Slytherin stands,” Luna said with a little smile, making Pansy blush. “Madam Hooch seems to agree. Robinson has been fouled for blagging Zabini.”

You gripped the end of the railing as Theo zoomed past. The score was tied, but if he made this goal it would put Slytherin up by ten points, effectively winning not only the game but also the Quidditch Cup.

“You got this, babe,” you yelled. “No mercy, Teddy!”

Theo met your gaze and smirked. Vicious woman, he mouthed before careening straight for the goalpost. 

The Ravenclaw keeper looked panicked as Theo dodged the other players and reeled the quaffle back. The shot was perfect, whizzing past the post so fast that the keeper didn’t even have time to react. 

“Nott with the winning shot!” Luna announced cheerily. “That’s game, everyone. Congratulations to this year’s Quidditch Cup winner: Slytherin House!”

The cheers that erupted from your housemates followed you all the way to the common room. In true Pansy fashion, the large space had been meticulously decorated with banners and streamers. The music blared and the liquor flowed, marking the start of a night of mischief and revelry. 

While waiting for the boys to finish showering, you helped Pansy play hostess. You greeted friends from other houses, filling their cups with your signature concoction. A fruity drink that masked the taste of liquor so well that the drinker didn’t realize they were pissed until it was too late. 

“Congratulations on the win,” said a familiar voice. You turned around and saw Murdock raising his green cup in a toast. 

You smiled, clinking your plastic cup against his. “Thanks Christoph. Good to see you here,” you lowered your voice, darting your head around the corner. “So things are going well with Daphne?”

Christoph smiled shyly. “Yeah, thanks for introducing us by the way. We’re going on our first date to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow.” 

After his last disastrous attendance at a Slytherin party, you figured it was the least you could do for your Hufflepuff friend. “Don’t mention it, Christoph. What are friends for? Besides, it’s obvious that you two would be absolutely perfect together.” 

“Who’s absolutely perfect together?” A familiar voice drawled. You felt an arm wrap protectively around you. “Besides us, of course.” 

Even before you were dating, Theo had a tendency to be overprotective towards you. Most of the time he was pretty good at controlling it, but sometimes his jealousy got the best of him. It would’ve annoyed you if it wasn’t so damn attractive. 

“Hey babe,” you said with a little smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I was just telling Christoph here that he should offer Daphne a drink. They’d make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Realization flooded Theo’s features, followed by a hint of embarrassment. “Definitely,” he said with a rueful smile. “Take it from me, mate. Don’t wait too long before chasing after the girl of your dreams.”

Christoph nodded, looking determined. “Thanks, mate.”

You handed your friend another cup and pointed him in Daphne’s direction. Beside you, Theo smiled sheepishly. His hair was slightly wet from the shower and he smelled like sea salt spray and smoke. The cozy knitted sweater he had thrown on brought out his watercolor eyes. 

“Nice save, babe.” 

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” Theo said, placing his hands on your waist. “You bring it out of me, cara mia.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You know, I’d be mad if jealous Theo wasn’t so hot.” Theo grinned as you placed your arms around his neck. “But scoring that winning goal? That was downright sexy.”

Your boyfriend toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Well, I had some motivation, thanks to our little bargain.” His hands slipped underneath your shirt, tracing teasing circles on your hips. “I delivered on my end. Now it’s time for you to pay up, love.” 

“Good things come to those who wait, Theo.” 

Theo pouted. “Fine, but only because I know you’re worth it.”

You pulled Theo in by the belt loop and kissed him, long and hard. He lifted you up and groaned as you tugged at his curls. Theo sighed into your mouth as you took control, showing him exactly how much you wanted him. You topped the kiss off by gently biting on his bottom lip. When you pulled away, Theo looked dazed. 

“Fuck,” he said in a low, dark voice. 

“A little preview,” you said with a smirk. “Just so you don’t think I’m completely heartless.”

“So my dorm or yours?”

You chuckled. “Theo, you haven’t even made your rounds. This party is to celebrate your win, you know.”

“Fuck the party,” he said dismissively. “You think I care about talking to all of these people after that? What do you want, love? Do you want me to beg? Get on my knees for you? I’ll do anything, princess.”

Salazar fucking save you. 

You would’ve taken Theo up on the offer, but this was his moment. He deserved to be celebrated. Besides, he’d be all yours by the end of the night. 

“As much as I love the visual,” you said, pecking him on the cheek. “I want you to celebrate with the team. You lot deserve it after working so hard all year.” You lowered your voice, whispering in his ear. “After that, we can go up to your dorm and I’ll give you your reward. Think you can do that, babe?”

“Yes ma’am,” Theo replied. “God you’re fucking sexy when you’re bossing me around.” 

You smirked. “Good boy.” 

Theo groaned before slipping his hand into yours. “Now come on, before I change my mind and claim my reward right here, right now.”

The two of you made rounds through the party, stopping here and there to talk to your respective friends. Most of the time, you were by Theo’s side watching in admiration as everyone congratulated him on the winning goal. 

Even in deep conversation, Theo never stopped touching you. Whether it was the soothing rub of his thumb across your knuckles or his arm draped protectively around your waist, it was obvious that physical touch was your boyfriend’s love language. 

You couldn’t help but smile at how easy it came to him, like touching you was as natural as breathing air.  

“What’s that smile for, love?”

“I just really fucking fancy you.”

Merlin’s bloody beard. The smile on Theo’s face completely took your breath away. His eyes, which you often joked gave him resting witch face, lit up brighter than the sun. 

“I really fucking fancy you too, darling.”

Finally, the two of you reached your friends on the other side of the common room. Blaise and Enzo were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong against Mattheo and Draco. 

“The man of the hour,” Malfoy announced, clapping Theo on the back. “You fucking killed it out there, mate.” He turned back to the other boys. “We all did.”

“This calls for a celebratory shot!” you announced. “Wait, where’s Pans?”

Mattheo smirked. “Chatting up our commentator. Looks like our little Pansy’s all grown up.”

Across the room, you shot Pansy a wink as she and Luna sat rather close together, huddled on the couch and giggling every so often. You rallied the boys, raising your cups in a cheer. Pansy affectionately flipped you the bird as all six of you hooted and hollered, but she downed the liquor nonetheless. 

The firewhisky must have been a fast acting agent of liquid courage because not even a second after she set her cup down, Pansy was kissing Luna. You squealed in delight while the rest of the group drunkenly cheered. 

This night just kept getting better and better. 

“Another one of our finest lost to young love,” Draco announced dramatically. 

You rolled your eyes. “You could be too if you stopped being a coward and finally asked Hermione out.” 

Malfoy nearly spat out his drink. “Granger? You think I fancy Granger? Little miss know it all, member of the Golden Trio, poster child Gryffindor Granger? Are you taking the piss, Y/N?”

“Oh please,” Mattheo said with a scoff. “We all see the way you look at her in the Great Hall. You don’t just fancy Granger. You’re absolutely smitten, mate.”

Enzo nodded empathetically. “Mattheo’s right, cousin. You should just ask Hermione out on a date.”

“Have you lot forgotten that the madwoman once punched me in the face?” 

“I think she’d be good for you,” you said. “Set you straight.” 

“Set me straight?” Draco repeated. “I don’t need anyone to set me straight. Especially not Granger. I mean, the witch is insufferable with her stupid curly hair and stupid big brown eyes and stupid flawless skin.” 

Blaise sighed. “No offense, mate, but you’re even thicker than Enzo when it comes to girls.”

Enzo protested in response, but Draco was too busy having a meltdown to notice. His pale complexion blossomed with red as his mouth gaped open. “Do I like Granger?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, you blubbering idiot.” 

Draco glared at you, then at Theo. “Nott, please get your girlfriend away from me before I have a full on fit.”

Theo only laughed, pulling you closer. “Gladly. We were heading out anyway.” 

You hugged your friends goodbye. Draco was still frowning at his drink when you and Theo finally headed out of the common room. 

“Think about it, ferret boy,” you hollered from the door. “Granger’s a catch! We could use more female presence in this absolute sausage party of a friend group.” 

With that, Theo hauled you over his shoulder. You squealed, pinching his bum as he carried you out of the common room. “Alright, love. That’s enough of that.” 

When you finally reached Theo’s dorm, the two of you fell over in absolute hysterics. You plopped down on his bed, spreading like an obnoxious starfish. Theo followed after, diving on top of you. 

“I think you gave Malfoy an identity crisis,” he said, laughing into your hair. 

You shrugged, rolling over so that you were on top of him. “He deserved it.” 

Theo toyed with the hem of your shirt, tracing circles on your hips. “And what about what I deserve?” 

“It’s coming, babe,” you said with a sly smile. “And pretty soon you will be too.”

“Don’t tease, cara mia.”

“I never tease,” you purred. “I only promise.”

With a satisfied smirk, you pressed your lips against his. Theo groaned into your mouth as you straddled his lap, deepening the kiss. Large hands roamed underneath your shirt, his palms rough and calloused from hours and hours of playing quidditch.

A sinfully delicious moan slipped past Theo’s lips as you trailed kisses along his jaw, throat, and neck. You sucked on his flesh, hard enough to leave marks. You liked knowing that every time he changed, little reminders of you littered his skin.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo muttered.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Theo,” you teased. “I bet I could shut you up though.”

Your boyfriend groaned like he was in pain. “Please do.”

You winked before disappearing underneath the covers. Theo’s eyes fluttered close as you continued kissing down his chest, taking the time to trace your name on his abs with your tongue, which seemed to be a real crowd pleaser. You stripped off his trousers, kissing his perfectly defined v line before licking a teasing stripe along the underside of his cock.

“Figlio di puttana,” Theo cursed, low and rough. Your knees nearly buckled. There was truly nothing hotter than your boyfriend swearing in Italian. “Don’t stop, Y/N.”

“What was that you said about delivering on my promise?” you asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. “Because it feels like I’m giving you the winner treatment right now, doesn’t it baby?”

A choked moan was your only response as you took him into your mouth. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, bobbing your head up and down in a steady rhythm. Theo fisted your hair in his hands, watching through heavy lids as you sucked your cheeks in. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, stroking your cheek. “But I’m willing to die a happy man.”

You chuckled, sending vibrations to his sensitive head. Theo twitched against your cheek as you gripped his shaft, moving along with your mouth. He continued to curse colorfully while you wrapped your lips around him. You felt him tense underneath you, signaling that he was close. 

Theo tugged lightly at your scalp. “I don’t want to cum yet,” he said huskily. “Not until I’m inside of you.” 

Merlin bless your boyfriend and his filthy fucking mouth. Theo flipped you over, his body pinning you to the mattress as he kissed you roughly. You gasped against his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in. Heat pooled in your core and flooded your body with desire. 

“Theo,” you mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “I need you. Now.” 

He ripped off his shirt, grinning. “Then have me, darling.” 

“I want to be on top.” 

You squealed as Theo rolled over, placing you on his lap. He gripped your hips and gently rolled against you. “I’m not about to argue with that.”

With a smirk, you toyed with the hem of your shirt. Theo grabbed your wrist and shook his head. “Keep it on. I want to watch you ride me while wearing my jersey.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your filthy mouth?” 

Theo grinned before latching his lips on your breast. He looked up at you and swirled his tongue around your nipple through the fabric. “It’s not ringing a bell. Shall I try the other side?” 

“Gods, yes.” 

He gave your other nipple equal attention as you lined his cock up at your entrance. Precum coated his tip, mixing with your own slick as you slowly lowered onto his length. Theo’s teeth sank into your collarbone, muffling his moan. 

“Fuck me,” he exhaled in a shaky breath. 

“I am, baby.”

Theo chuckled darkly. “Smartass.”

You rolled your hips as he gripped your ass, helping you lift and lower at a faster pace. Theo’s mouth collided with yours, his hands roaming underneath your shirt and exploring every inch of you like he was trying to commit your body to memory. 

The intensity of his gaze pierced you with lust and desire. He lifted the hem of his jersey, watching as his cock disappeared between your folds. 

“I love watching you take all of me, pretty girl.” Theo was ravenous, littering your neck and shoulder with love bites. “You ride me so fucking well. Maybe it should be you out there on the broom.” 

“The only broom I’m interested in is yours,” you quipped back. “Besides, you don’t want everyone else knowing my tricks, do you?”

“Fuck no,” Theo whispered roughly as he switched positions. He pressed you against the mattress, hooking your legs on his shoulder before smirking. “This is for my eyes only. You’re mine, amorina.” 

“Yours,” you breathed as he thrust into you. The angle allowed him to slide in even deeper, hitting all the right spots as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“That’s my good girl,” Theo declared proudly. “Now fucking take it.”

The pleasure hits you in waves. The sounds that you were both making were absolutely filthy, and you were glad that music was playing in the common room below otherwise the whole of Slytherin house would’ve heard you screaming Theo’s name. 

“You getting close, baby?” Theo grunted as you fluttered around him. You whimpered in response, raking your nails along his back. “I’ll take that as a yes. I want you to cum with me. Can you do that, pretty girl?”

You nodded as Theo’s slender fingers rubbed against your clit, pushing you over the edge. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, cursing as the orgasm hit you both. 

Theo kissed you, swallowing your moans of pleasure as euphoria washed over you. He rode it out, hips stuttering as he finished. The two of you laid in the dark, bodies twined together while your heartbeats synced. 

“Holy fuck,” you said in disbelief. 

Theo chuckled. “That did feel a bit sacrilegious.” 

He rolled over and grabbed his wand, casting a quick scouring charm over the both of you. Thank Merlin for magic.

You rolled over, propping your chin up with one hand. “You want to smoke a cigarette, don’t you?”

Your boyfriend shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking about quitting.” 

Now this was news to you. “Oh? Has all my nagging finally paid off?” 

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just thinking ahead. I don’t want our kids picking up the habit.”

Your eyes widened. “Kids? As in, plural?”

Theo nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah, little Theo Jr. and his brother Mattheo don’t need to be exposed to my smoking.” 

You cocked your head in confusion. “Theo Jr.? Mattheo?”

“Don’t ask. I lost a bet.”

“You better be taking the piss, Teddy.”

He chuckled. “Mostly. I am quitting smoking and I am looking forward to a future with you, our hypothetical children’s names to be further discussed.” 

“You absolute menace of a man,” you said, cuddling him with a wide grin. “I fucking adore you, do you know that?”

“I am stupidly in love with you.” 

You giggled as Theo peppered kisses on your face. “Malfoy’s right. We’re truly revolting.”

“Oh, absolutely vile.” 

Theo tucked you into the crook of his neck and kissed the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you mumbled sleepily. “I love you, Teddy.”

He pulled you close and smiled. “I love you too, Y/N.”

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[hanihaato]

a/n: yandere aventurine x female reader, suggestive, non-consensual touching and forced kisses

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t say a word, darling,” a glowed finger pressed to your lips makes words die on your tongue almost as effectively as the Aventurine’s vivid, piercing eyes. Except for the shallow breaths, you stay in silence, and he glides his hand from your lips to cup your cheekbone. “I must say, you are really bold, testing my connections like that to find you. Being sceptical is a great quality…”

He pushes you onto the bed and lays on top of you, interlocking your fingers together so you don’t ever try to push him off yourself. He stares at you, his smile growing smug with your every try to wiggle out yourself of the embrace.

Aventurine’s head falls on your shoulder. You shiver as he chuckles and his warm breath sends a chill through your spine he muchly adores tracing his fingers on.

“…But not when it comes to me.”

You turn your head away from him. Ugh, you wish you could have at least a full day without him, but you could pride yourself in having a plan good enough to escape the room he locked you up two weeks ago when you first arrived on this planet.

Though, it hurts your ego a bit that Aventurine doesn’t seem to be bothered at all.

He shifts on the bed, and you hate how the sheets that smelled of the hotel’s cleanliness are already starting to stink with his perfumes. The smell you once loved now suffocates you with each breath.

He wraps his arm around your waist so he spoons your back for a second before grasping you tighter and throwing you over himself, having you face him. He entangles your legs before you can think of hitting him with a knee.

You whisper into the pillows.

“…At least I know you are a real deal.”

Aventurine chuckles in a tone you would find endearing if you didn’t feel he laughs at you. When he first started to show you the best parts of the world he’s been living in—the casinos that always had a nice pianist playing on a grand piano, the numerous vine tastings, the breakfasts that make your mouth water, clothing that feels like silk in touch—you could hear the tone everywhere, usually just by your ear. He then told you how he loved how your eyes shone and how much more enchanting you look every day.

You wonder which night he started to plan to cut you off from both worlds, yours and his, to only have him as your everything.

“That’s news to me,” he says, theatrically raising his eyebrows. “You didn’t believe me at all? You must know, darling, that everything I told you after we got together is true. That’s a real privilege right there.”

His finger starts to trace circular patterns on your forearm’s skin. Your heart throbs painfully.

“Aventurine…” Your voice is as demanding as can be the voice of a woman squished in the arms of a man who knows how to use words and guns. “I don’t believe you really love me. That’s not how love looks like.”

The man is still in his position. He blinks, and his eyes are fully on you. You have yet to find out if that look is a warning for you or whether he is enticed by what are you saying. Or maybe he just wants to hear your voice—you know Aventurine is not a man above misleading you into believing you aren’t in a hopeless position just to hear your pleas.

“When you love someone, you want the best for them. You want— You see them as equals. You don’t strip them of what they love to do, and… and people they love. You just… join their life and slowly build a new one together…”

When you fall silent, Aventurine pulls you in and with the other hand brushes hair off your face.

He hums. “That’s an inspiring speech. Oh, and I loved how you looked when you talked about it. Such a view. You must’ve thought about it for quite a while, huh?” He pats you on the head, lingering a bit to loosely twirl your hair on his fingers. “But, dearest, everything you’ve said, well, it all checks out.”

“No.”

“I do view as equals. We have a trade: my everlasting love for a bit of your freedom. It looks like a good deal.”

“It doesn’t look like—”

Aventurine shuts you up with a kiss. You hate, hate, hate this feeling, because in these moments you wonder if you could ever truly fall in love with a man you despise that gives you the hugs you long for and kisses you think about for days.

As he pulls away, with your free hand, you wipe off the traces of the kiss on your lips. Of course, you know it’s meaningless—he kissed you many times, you would have to count in hundreds at least—he will revenge you for that later.

“Awh, don’t be like that,” He says, kissing you again and holding your wrists this time. “You know, I pride myself in being a good businessman. If you are going to put your undying love for me, I will give you the freedom back.”

“You may beg all you want, but with begging you can’t get my love.”

It’s a brave thing to say when you are at the mercy of a man who’s famished for your affection.

“Hm, is that so?” Aventurine chuckles, but for the first time in the evening, it lacks the usual flippancy. He begins to pepper your neck with kisses, and you feel his sturdy hands travel down your stomach and a tugging on your shirt. “Well, say what you want, darling. But since you’ve been by my side for such a long time, you must know I only engage in bets I know I will win.”

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[moncharrow]

giving loser!ellie head for the first time

a/n: wrote this a while ago but since i havent put anything out in a bit, figured this would suffice. inspired by that one twt video...

content/warnings: 886 words, gn reader, cunnilingus (e receiving, r giving), ellie's first time, fingering

eating loser!ellie out is a religious experience

you blow lightly, the cold sting making ellie's legs shudder. it’s her first time having someone go down on her, and you think it’s a fucking shame. every other girl must be blind to not want this sensitive, soaked pussy that clenches around nothing.

then again, you’re glad nobody else has done this for her, because you have the privilege of being first. thank god for that, you think, because you don’t want anyone else to get this kind of perfect view.

closest to you is her clit, puffy and pink with arousal. your eyes gaze next to the trail of neatly-trimmed hair leading up to her navel. just earlier, you’d teased her, licking down that line as she squealed and put her head in her hands. you’d just laughed. “i’ve never been touched there-"

she’d never been touched anywhere. it’s why she was so ecstatic every time you laid a hand on her. originally, you’d thought ellie was just introverted. that she didn’t like anybody touching her.

and then you’d learned she didn’t dislike your touch- on the contrary, she fucking loved it. she loved it so much she had to shy away from it, otherwise her clit would throb and she'd feel the familiar wet spot grow in her panties and her mind would start to wander and think of that time you bent down in front of her in that tiny, slutty skirt and-

ellie shakes again, face flushing the prettiest scarlet you've ever seen. it brings out the ambers and forest greens of her eyes. you lick a stripe up her entrance and she brings both hands up to clutch her face.

"oh shit- oh fuck, oh my god. holy-" her reactions are so cute that you almost feel bad for laughing at her so much, but the embarrassment she gets from it all is just too delicious to stop.

you pinch her clit in between two fingers and her hips jump up into your face. you suck harder and she yelps- is it mean? maybe. but you can tell that even though she's sensitive and nearly overstimulated, she feels amazing.

as your tongue continues its assault on her, she begins to move away. you know it's purely reflex, but you're persistent. ellie, despite being so sensitive, hasn't cum yet and you desperately need her to. when she props herself on her elbows and begins to throw her body backwards to try to shy from your touch, your arms hook around her thighs, encasing her. she can't get away, and this position allows your hands to further spread her open.

"pleasepleaseplease babe, come on, be nice to me." she rambles. despite her pleas, she was just as desperate as you, eagerly wanting to come undone on your tongue. knowing this, you don't repent.

she's still on her elbows, eyes transfixed on the way your mouth fucks her, how you look just as pleased as she does, like she's the best meal you've had. it very well might be, you think. her noises turn incomprehensible. you can make out vague "please"s and "fuck"s, but other than that, she's fully gone. ellie's breath is heavy and shallow. you hope this is a sign that's she about to finish.

your feel her clit twitch on your tongue, and you realize that, yes, she's getting closer. you speed up and ellie starts to thrash around. you look up at her, making eye contact, and she moans, throwing herself back against the bed. "babe, please! fuck- oh shit-!"

ellie's movements become more violent and you let go of her for a moment. she whines, thinking you're stopping to punishing her for being so defiant. as you lean back and sit on your legs, she begins to stutter out an apology that's cut off when you grip her waist and pull her up towards your mouth.

your lips start their assault again. ellie's legs are over your shoulders and her hips are elevated above the bed, allowing you to get into just the right angle that makes her scream. she grinds herself against your face and lets out more indistinguishable noises that you can only assume is ellie begging you to stop, but the way she pushes herself further into you, grinding her clit on your tongue, is telling you something different.

she squeals and you laugh into her cunt, sending vibrations through her body. the way she clenches tightly around your face, clamps down, and all but screams your name tells you that she's about to cum.

"fuck, oh fuck, please- please! a little more i'm almost- i'm so close to- haaaaah!" she finishes with a loud groan that fizzles out into pants. you fuck her through it, tongue slowing down as her head lolls to the side. her eyes are crossed and her legs shake slightly as you pull off of her, putting her thighs on the bed.

you kiss her forehead and she smiles softly. "you did so good for me, els. how was that?"

she grins cheekily, heavily lidded eyes focusing on you now. she bites her lip when she sees the gleaming slick covering your lips.

"it was fucking amazing, is what is was. you think i can do that to you sometime?"

my masterlist

[aemondluvbot]

𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱a “the dragon and the sparrow” blurb

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i have always genuinely adored the scenes in acotar where rhys teaches feyre how to read so this is very much inspired by that

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: allusions to smut but nothing on page for this one, innuendo, nudity, fluff apart from that

“aeg…aegon the con…conc…” you groan in frustration, the words dancing in front of you eyes—elusive and more difficult than they have any right to be. 

“conqueror,” aemond corrects gently, brushing his knuckles up and down your bare shoulders as you sit between his legs, the giant tome in your hands. it’s much past your bedtime, the hour of the bat, and yet you’re determined… determined to show him that you can make progress, you can learn. 

it’s been a challenging few weeks, but you want to show him you’re worth teaching, a good student. 

“aegon the conqueror,” you repeat, a little more confident, “was the f-feerst…?”

“first,” the prince corrects you again, laughing softly when you huff and slam the book shut. “come on little sparrow, you can’t give up just yet.”

“i’ve been trying!” you whine. and it’s true, every spare minute you have between washing linens and mopping floors and boiling water for baths, you sneak in quick peeks at the loose pages aemond has been giving you. more often than not, it’s history lessons—targaryen history and stories from all seven kingdoms, histories of dragons and lands beyond the narrow sea. 

anything and everything that’s challenging for you. anything and everything for you to learn how to read. 

“i know you have been, my sweet,” the prince placates you a little, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. 

just hours ago you were tossing between the sheets, lost in the throes of ecstasy, and now here you are… frustrated beyond belief and still on the first page of this newest lesson. 

“open the book,” he says. it’s an order, more like, one you shouldn’t refuse. still you grumble a little, making him chuckle again. “go on…”

you clear your throat, a little dramatic. “aegon the con…queror… the conqueror was the… first l-lord of the sev…en kingdoam…kingdoms,” you pause, breaking apart several times and repeating words until they feel familiar on your tongue. until the letters make a little more sense than before. “and king on… the irun—”

“iron.”

“iron th…throne.” 

“very good,” aemond praises, turning your face to him so he can give you a kiss as reward. 

this has been the routine for a few weeks now—he fucks you to within an inch of your life and then makes you sit between his legs, a book in your hands, making you read the words out loud to him. the kisses are your favourite reward, as much a treat for you as it is for him. 

“this is so dull,” you whine again, in a difficult mood tonight. 

aemond hums. “you think my ancestor, aegon the conqueror, is dull?” 

you gasp, realising what just came out of your mouth in front of the prince when you feel a pinch on your hip, making you half-yelp half-giggle. his mouth hovers just above your ear, kissing the shell and the lobe and then your jaw. 

“i think i agree with you,” he whispers, making you giggle a little more. “should we get a new book then?”

“mm-hmm,” you nod, “you told me once you had a book on vhagar for me. i’d like that one, my prince.” 

wordlessly, aemond leaves the bed, taking the book in your hands away with him. you instantly miss the warmth of his body, of the feel of his skin against yours. but you can’t complain too much about it, not when he's right there in front of you, gloriously naked and searching for the book you requested. 

“a lot of big words in this one,” aemond warns while you salivate over his backside. you have a sneaking suspicion he’s taking longer than necessary, standing right there for a few more moments just for your viewing pleasure. 

“i’m quite good with big things, my prince,” you answer, rather coy. 

“are you now?” aemond turns sideways, his little smirk now half-visible. “that mouth of yours will get you in trouble some day, little sparrow.”

it’s not a threat, not even close. and yet it sends a tendril of thrill down your spine and straight to your core. “i look forward to that day, my prince.” 

his smirk turns into a smile, but the prince chooses not to answer, pulling the book down from a high shelf instead. once he’s back in bed you slot yourself back between his legs, comfortable and snug. 

the book looks just as old as the others, leather-bound and its pages yellowing, but the illustration on the front page is all too familiar. for a moment you close your eyes and think of the wind rushing through your hair, think of the prince’s arms around you much like they are now. 

“shall we begin?” he nudges and you nod, turning to the first page. 

you begin much like before—struggling with the words and repeating them until they come a little more easily. aemond corrects much like before too, gently guiding you over the more difficult ones, praising with kisses and soft touches when you get them right. it’s only after the first page that you turn to him in curiosity. 

“can i ask something, my prince?”

he hums, busy stroking his fingers through your hair, and you take that as a yes. 

“how did you get her? vhagar… she’s centuries older than you and so much bigger. you can’t have had her as an egg in your cradle.”

“i didn’t,” he answers, closing his eyes perhaps to reminisce the day you’d asked about, stroking your head still. “i was just a boy, ten years of age… and she was riderless.”

“you were ten?” your voice drips with incredulity, not doubting him, never doubting him. when you close your eyes you can picture it so clearly—a small boy of ten, silver hair down to his shoulders, approaching a dragon hundreds of times his size.

“do you not believe me, little sparrow?” aemond teases. 

“i’d never doubt you,” you respond. “what did you say to her?”

“i said, ‘dohaerās, vhagar! lykirī,’ and she let me climb her,” the prince explains, dramatising the familiar words you’d heard him speak in high valyrian just a few weeks ago. 

“you told her to… to… serve, and… be calm?”

“look at you, little sparrow,” aemond swoops down, capturing your lips in his for a deep lingering kiss that has heat coiling in your belly again. rather possessively, you grab his face in your hands, deepening the kiss, relishing the feel of his mouth on yours until he’s the one to break it. 

“you can learn high valyrian—” another small peck on your lips “—once you’ve mastered the common tongue. until then…” his arms loop around you again, putting the book back in your lap to the page it was on before, and tapping the page with his finger. 

you intertwine your fingers with his, kissing the back of his hand. “if that’s what my prince commands…” 

and then you begin all over again. 

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @uhnanix

[beneathashadytree]

HUNGOVER - VINSMOKE SANJI X READER

Warnings : Sanji’s self-image issues, hangover, passing out, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff <33

Additional notes : This is part 2 to a fic I posted 2 years ago (crazy, I know) called Intoxicated, so I recommend reading that first! Inspiration suddenly hit me ig🙏🏽 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

It was at times like these that Sanji cursed his entire being—most especially his body, for having gotten so used to waking up at a set time every day. Because here he was, with a pounding headache that threatened to split his head in half and squash his brain into a mush, and yet he was still unable to sleep in for more than 4 hours.

Delaying the inevitable, he tried his best to keep his eyes shut, even if just for a little while. Dread filled him at the thought that opening them would send lancinating pain shooting through his eyes and the back of his head, and that was an issue he did not want to deal with now.

Especially not after colossally mortifying himself like that last night. Actually, he’d much rather forget it all together. Maybe completely wipe the memory from his head.

Much of the second half of the night was a booze-induced haze, flashing images swirling behind his eyes like they’re floating in water, and he couldn’t bring himself to try and remember the rest of it. After all, why would he want to think about how he embarrassed himself in front of the one person he yearned for more than life itself?

Baring his heart like only an idiot would, skinning himself alive and prostrating himself in front of them without a single ounce of the dignity he’d tried so hard to preserve for ages… he truly was a lost cause.

“Putain,” Sanji swore under his breath, even his raspy voice sounding grating to his ears, and he buried his head further into—

—his jacket?

All inhibitions instantly cast aside, his head shot up from where it was, and he was hit with the surging pain of an unbearable crick in his neck. Eyes flying open and completely ignoring the sting of the light, it was only then that he realized that he hadn’t, in fact, stumbled his drunken way back to bed after his whole blurted confession and tumbled face first into dreamland.

No. In reality, he’d actually just slept an uncomfortable few hours on the kitchen table, his head just barely hanging on after being supported only by his crumpled jacket.

Shit. The kitchen.

It was at that moment he came to the sudden realization that the thrumming headache wasn’t only caused by him waking up, but also from the loud banging of another person in his kitchen pulling out his precious pots and pans.

It must be well past morning. Everyone was probably ridiculously hungry by now.

It took all he had for him to stop himself from snapping at whoever it was that decided to step up (and also make a wreck out of his sacred space and possessions) for only that reason. In his desire to drown himself in his sorrowful miseries, he’d completely neglected his duty as a chef. If not to sustain his crewmates and friends, what use was he outside of battle?

Nothing, he thought to himself, blearily blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he began to turn around with a sigh, not looking forward to the confrontation that was to come, nothing at all—

“There you are, darling,” came a soft voice from behind him, barely above a whisper. A blooming warmth rushed to his cheeks, and he almost toppled out of the chair as he recognized just who it was that was saying those saccharine words.

It couldn’t be. There was no way he he’d be so blessed by the angels first thing in the morning.

And yet. And yet.

Here they were, in all their fresh-faced, tender-hearted glory, leaning down to gently stroke his cheek with a deft thumb. If Sanji let slip a broken whimper of half-relief, half-agony, they made no comment on it. “You’re hungover, then?”

With his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton wool, no words could come out, and he instead just nodded his head weakly. Thankfully, that too they let slide. “I got Chopper to help out with that.” They pushed a cup with an odd liquid and two pills towards him. “Should help.”

For a couple of seconds as Sanji downed them and sent a silent prayer to whoever decided to let Chopper have the lack of common sense to join their crew, they turned around, probably on their way back to the stove that now sizzled and emitted the lovely smell of caramelized onions and garlic—and if his nose wasn’t betraying him, simmering in some balsamic vinegar and soy sauce—that he had memorized long ago. But after a moments’ hesitation, they walked up to him once again, sliding his jacket out from underneath him and carefully folding it.

“You should go to your quarters and get a proper sleep in. I’ve got it from here.” With that sweet smile of theirs that threatened to send his heart into overdrive, they began to usher him out. “When you’re up again, I’ll reheat your food for you. You don’t look so ready to eat now.”

If he was looking as green as he felt, he couldn’t blame them one bit for calling it out as it is. Clearing his throat once then twice, he tried to speak again, voice awfully raspy (even more than after he’d had a smoke). “You… you cooked?”

They hummed in affirmation, now with their back turned to him as they began to crack eggs into a pan. “Not done yet, but yeah. You’ve only slept a couple of hours, so I figured it would be better if I managed to get us through breakfast in your place. Won’t be as good as yours, but I hope you can trust me to try.”

As they waved off to their left, he saw how they’d propped up his notebook against the pepper shaker. And maybe this was just him feeling extra sensitive and still a little in a haze, but something stirred in his chest at the thought of them carefully following every step in his recipes and diligently trying to emulate his cooking.

“Mon ange, you shouldn’t have…” His voice was still a little rough yet trembling with the emotions he couldn’t even try to hide; emotions that were bigger than his own feeble heart could take. His fists curled at his sides, eyebrows furrowed as he watched them elegantly handle the kitchenware like they were their own. This was too much for him. “I can handle my own hangover. It’s… it’s not your responsibility to do my own job.”

With a sigh, they turned down the stove and looked back at him with an exasperated yet incredibly fond look in their eyes. “You silly man, no one’s forcing me to do this.” At the affectionate lilt of their voice, Sanji’s mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow (with much difficulty) past the lump in his throat.

What could he have possibly done to deserve this? He can’t have earned this much goodness. There simply was no way.

“You don’t have to earn my love, Sanji.” Fuck. Had he really said that out loud? Their soft-spoken words and the sympathetic look in their eyes told him that yes, he had. He hadn’t intended to make himself sound so pathetic, and yet here he was, accepting the way they brushed his curly eyebrow with slivers of shame curling inside his chest. “I’ve already told you, my love is yours to keep,” they softly said.

“Your… pardon, quoi?” His heart came to a stuttering stop, all his movements halted and his eyes blown wide open almost comically as the words they said finally hit him.

One look at how utterly confused and shocked he looked, and realization seemed to dawn on their face. “I guess it would be too ambitious of me to expect you to remember much of last night,” they huffed out a laugh, before taking to the chopping board and beginning to chop up some fresh vegetables as they slowly spoke, as though hoping to break it gently. “You weren’t the only one who had an indirect confession in store.”

Digging the palms of his hands into his closed eyes, Sanji threw back his head and groaned as the memories came back to him bit by bit, achingly slowly and then all at once. “Merde,” he hissed out, the throbbing in his head doubling with every image that replayed in his head. “I can’t believe…” It was almost like he’d set a personal challenge for how much a person could embarrass themself within less than 12 hours.

What other explanation was there for him just completely forgetting that the one person who’d burrowed into the depths of his heart had somehow expressed that they felt the same for him? How else could he explain not remembering that they’d said that they wanted to be with him, in some miraculous way that he still couldn’t quite believe was real?

The chop-chop-chop of the knife stilled, and they set it down with a chuckle that sent tingles down his spine and his heart into near cardiac arrest. Lovely, lovely, lovely. His hangover seemed to have a weak spot for their laughter too, because why else would his headache somehow chip away just at the sound?

They were quick to soothe him with their words, their hands reaching up to tug his arms back to his sides. “It’s fine, I promise. You’re just a bit disoriented now.” Looking into such a fond gaze didn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he found himself being reminded of just how desperately in love he was; so much that he could swear it burned him alive. “I mean it though,” they earnestly mumbled, tenderly cupping his face, “and I’ll wait till you’re well-rested. Then we’ll talk.”

“Alright,” he managed to whisper out between breaths, “But—“

“Go.” They gave him a gentle push, before turning around to stir something in a small pot and add some spices that made the smell even more tantalizing. “If you don’t want breakfast to be a disaster, that is. Wouldn’t want to send my boyfriend’s kitchen up in flames.”

That’s it. A sharp pang in the deepest crevices of his chest and he was gone, his head floating with dizziness and his vision swimming. Sanji was long dead and on his way to whichever heaven would accept him; a heaven where he was somehow inexplicably loved and wanted; a heaven where he’d hear those words from their lips and know that they were indeed—thanks to some ridiculously generous higher power that blessed him beyond his wildest dreams—referring to him.

The last thing he felt were his limbs failing to keep supporting him, and a lightheadedness that overtook him so suddenly, crumpling to the ground in a helpless heap.

I think I’m gonna die a lucky man, he dazedly thought to himself, before finally succumbing to a blissful unconsciousness against the cold kitchen floor.

“Sanji!”

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro @fluffismystaplefood @angry-and-yandere @semi-orangeapple @carsonology @respitable @spotted-salamander @musiclover2119 @thatbaepizzalover @scentisterror @shengbiao-shiny @jammycheese @klutzycora-san @hyunskz

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[billvsgirl]

the songbird : part one

summary ; reader is a beloved, headstrong singer at a saloon in new mexico. billy is just looking for somewhere to play some poker. it’s a match made in heaven.

warnings ; some heavy insinuation (only above the cut) but aside from that, none yet 👀 i dont know if you can classify this as a slow burn but it is for me because my writing stamina is weak as hell 😇 also i might have accidentally mary sue’d reader but thats my issue

also not beta read (im lazy)

author’s note ; HIII to anyone who’s reading this, i’m sorry in advance, this is my first time writing in a very long while so forgive me. if you have any comments or suggestions please let me know 🙏 i thank @goosita and @billysgun for inspiring me to write for billy (y’all always eat thank you for supplying me with the best billy fics) pls let me know if y’all wanna see more of this series and i’m open to requests !!! okay thats all tyty

—

billy pulled the door closed behind himself ever so carefully, making sure not to alert anyone else who might still be awake in the boarding house.

he turned towards the room to look at you; waiting infront of him expectantly- yet still a bit nervous, akin to a tense game of cards. it was his move now.

you leaned into his touch as he brought a hand up to caress your cheek, stroking gently with his thumb. “my beautiful girl,” he spoke softly, quirking the corners of his lips up into a smile.

“are you sure you’re alright with this, darlin’? we don’t have to.”

but oh, how you so desperately wanted to. because it was him, because it was billy.

-

he had wandered into your life by chance; a raggedy stray appearing in a saloon on a friday night, just looking to make some cash off of a game of poker.

you were there, too, hidden behind a humble stage curtain. you dusted some lint off of your dress and cleared your throat before donning your guitar and revealing yourself to the bar patrons with a confident, nearly sanguine smile.

“why hello there, everyone! d’ya miss me?”

and you had the instant attention of the majority of the tired souls in the saloon, ears and eyes becoming alert. if there weren’t smiles, there were whistles, cheers, claps- and other things inbetween.

there was no argument amongst the patrons that you were special. you held a strong and awfully charismatic persona when you were up on that stage, performing each weekend. when you had first started singing publicly, give or take a year or so ago, it took time for the people there to pay mind to you- but there was only so much they could do before your cadence, your charm, drew them in. and now, the townsfolk always looked forward to your appearances.

“oh please, don’t flatter me! it’ll all go to my head. how’s ‘bout we get to some songs instead, boys?”

a bit of soft laughter could be heard, dispersed throughout the room, before some more scattered claps- and a low chatter returned within the building while you propped yourself onto the stool at the center of the platform.

“learned this one from my father- i hope y’all enjoy it, an’ feel free to sing along if ya’ know it too.”

you began to strum, and the noise in the room lowered at your command. if anyone wasn’t paying attention before, they were now.

“O bury me not,”

and the raggedy stray finally looked up from his hand of cards, sapphire blue eyes taking in your beauty for the first time.

“on the lone prarie.”

your voice was amber honey flowing over a silver spoon, it was devistatingly sweet on the tongue, and all the more addicting. even the most haughty cowboys couldn’t help but lend an ear to you.

“these words came low, and mournfully

from the pallid lips of the youth who lay

on his dying bed at the close of day.”

of course, it didn’t hurt the fact that you were pretty. anyone would agree. but the men there stopped bothering you with crude requests and comments a long time ago- you’d established that it wouldn’t be tolerated, that you weren’t some woman of the night who’d play into the egos of these dogs who assumed they were above everyone else. and what were they to do?

nevertheless, you were alluring. you had a voice that charmed snakes and tempted songbirds to whistle along. so, eventually, they left you be. and that was the way it was.

“he had wasted and pined ‘til o’er his brow,

death’s shades were slowly gathering now

he thought of home and loved ones nigh

as the cowboys gathered to see him die.”

some of the patrons softly sang along to that folk song, including the one that sat a bit further from the stage, who had laid his cards aside later than the others.

he wasn’t fully aware of the small smile etched across face, but he was aware of the way your dress draped gracefully over your legs, the way your hair flowed freely upon your head, the way your eyelashes batted against your skin each time you blinked, the way your hands held your guitar.

he was well aware that he had not seen a lady like you before.

and well after you finished your set, and you had taken time to sit down at the bar and thank the bartender for your drink, he found it in himself to approach you.

and if you were a bit apprehensive, he took mind of that, and kept a small distance whilst lowering his hat from his head.

“hello, ma’am, how are you doin’ tonight?”

you couldn’t help but soften your hardened expression just a bit at the sight of him; eyes that bore right into your heart and pleaded innocence, even though you had heard the chatter throughout the bar that night;

that he had accumulated bounties, that he was a force not to be reckoned with,

that he was ‘dangerous.’

“quite alright, thank ya’, can i help you, cowboy?”

you were curious, but you weren’t downright stupid. you’d certainly dealt with worse, and the demeanor of this man begged that he had no distasteful intentions, but there was further convincing to be done for your guard to come down.

“i just wanted to say- you’ve got a real beautiful voice. it was a nice treat after the day i’ve had, ma’am.”

his voice was soft, and he carried himself well, though you could hear notes of nervousness in the way his breath hitched slightly halfway through his speech. you tilted your head a bit, furrowing your brows.

“you’re william bonney, isn’t that right?”

he shifted his stance, breaking eye contact to look down towards the hat he held in his hands. he cleared his throat and looked back up at you with a coy smile.

“yes’m, so you’ve heard- i’ve heard em’ talkin’ about you too, albeit, for much nicer reasons, miss y/n y/l/n.”

and if the way your name rolled off of his tongue made your cheeks a couple of shades pinker than usual, that was your business and nobody else’s.

he was good looking, that couldn’t be denied. good looking in the kind of way that carried much more depth than anyone you’d seen before. good looking in the way of his strikingly blue eyes, his brown hair that curled up at the ends, the button up shirt and pants that complimented his figure perfectly, his strong, yet softened, demeanor.

“so, s’it true? what they say about you?”

“depends what they’re sayin’, ma’am. maybe, maybe not.”

“well, are you as dangerous as they say you are?”

“only when i need to be, ma’am.”

he was definitely a gentleman- that, or he was putting up a real good act. it wasn’t often that you were approached out of genuine, unsolicited interest. but william- who now insisted you instead call him billy, went silent each time you even looked like you wanted to say something.

and on the two of you went, having conversation through the rest of the night. he didn’t let on about a lot of things, he’d gotten used to being a man of few words. he wanted to know everything about you- as much as you were comfortable saying. and to his delight, you had lots to say.

the both of you were a few drinks in by the time you were sat side by side, filling the near empty saloon with laughter.

“and- and then what?” his smile was sickeningly wide.

“well, my mama always told me i should never let a man use me as a doormat, so i grabbed my saddlebag an’ swatted him right in the groin!”

billy chuckled lightly, imagining that scenario before taking another sip of his whiskey.

“serves ‘m right, the men here know less a’ how to treat women than they do knowin’ when’s appropriate to draw a gun.” he huffed out.

you set your elbow on the counter, resting your head on your hand. “i bet your mama’s real proud a’ you, billy. she raised you just as anyone should.”

he held his smile for just a second before moving to look down at his glass. he remained silent for a few moments, and you followed suit, understanding why.

“m’ sorry, i didn’t know-“

“no, it’s alright,” he looked up at you, offering a smile once again. “i hope that she is. i’m always just trying my best to do what’s right- what’s just. sometimes the law doesn’t wanna paint it that way, but i know what i’ve seen and done.”

and you trusted his word. you had let your guard down like this for the first time possibly ever with anyone who wasn’t family. you and this raggedy stray were both different birds, flying far from the flock. having his company was something new, something exciting. and you hungered to know more.

[sixlane]

james potter fan club

bartylily microfic | 785 words | NSFW | inspired by that one scene in challengers | this is my attempt to introduce the masses to jartylily. you may not see the vision yet, but you will.

special ty to renn @malchai and laurie @itsjaywalkers for letting me yell at you about this <3

“I saw James today,” Lily says from where she’s straddling Barty’s lap, running her fingers through his hair. It’s not overtly sexual, but Barty’s hoping he can get it there in the next two minutes.

“Yeah?” He lets his eyes close, lets himself focus on the sound of her voice and the feel of her soft thighs under his hands. She’s only wearing her underwear and an old t-shirt of his, which isn’t doing much for his self control.

“Mmhm,” she responds, lightly rolling her hips forward. “He was asking about you.”

“I just saw him a few days ago.” Barty moves his hands around to grab Lily’s ass, sliding his fingers under the thin fabric, encouraging the pressure building between them. “What was he asking about?” He’s not really paying attention to the conversation if he’s being honest, but sometimes if Lily is in a chatty mood during sex, the dirty talk can get really nasty, so he tries to encourage it as much as possible.

“Just asking if we’d see him again before you go. He misses you.” She tugs the hem of Barty’s shirt up and over his head, then starts kissing a trail down his neck all the way to his shoulder. She reaches up to run a finger around his nipple, something she knows always gets a shiver out of him.

Barty lets out a groan as Lily rocks into him harder this time. “Fuck me too.” He doesn't even really know what he’s saying, just whatever will keep Lily talking.

“I know baby, I know you do,” Lily says, planting a hand on Barty’s chest to push him down on the bed. She leans forward to kiss him, and it’s slow and smooth as she slides her tongue into his mouth. He just feels himself getting lost in it when she pulls away. “Tell me how much you miss James.”

“Lily—” Barty starts, but he’s cut off as Lily’s hand travels down to his briefs, slipping under the waistband just a bit, teasing. “You want it?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, grabbing her wrist, always so greedy about the way she touches him. “Come on, princess, no games.”

“No games.” She shakes her head, dips her hand even lower, just grazing the tip of his cock. “Tell me how much you miss him and you can have whatever you want.”

God, she’s intoxicating when she gets like this. Bossy and determined. And Barty is powerless to it.

“Miss him so much, Lily.” It’s not even untrue. It’s been months since he’s come to visit James, and now Lily since they started seeing each other. They call and text here and there but it’s nothing like it used to be, when they were attached at the hip as teenagers.

“Good boy.” She grabs his cock, collecting the precum with her thumb so her palm slides easily over him. “That feel good?”

Barty’s eyes roll back and he bucks his hips up into her hand, always needing more with Lily. “Mmhm fuck, so good. Keep talking, baby.”

Lily smiles, huffs a laugh. “You think about him a lot?” Her hand speeds up, just the right amount of pressure. She’s so fucking good at this.

Barty can barely think through the haze so he just says the first thing that comes to mind, not that he has much of a filter anyway. “All the time.”

“Yeah you do,” Lily says, rewarding him by reattaching to his neck, licking up to his ear where she bites at his earlobe. “Thinking about him right now while I’m touching you.”

Barty moans, letting his mouth fall open as he lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine just for a second that it’s James on top of him instead of Lily. “Ngh, yeah, fuck. Don’t stop.”

But Lily does stop, just for a second to tug Barty’s briefs down and out of the way, freeing his cock, putting on display the mess she’s made of him.

She sits up over him, hovering just above his hard length. “Now, I want you to imagine, when you’re inside me, that it’s James you’re fucking into. Can you do that for me?”

Barty’s hands squeeze hard at her hips as he takes her in with hungry eyes, but he’ll do what she says. He always does, in the end.

He nods, licks his lips, seals the deal. “Wanna be inside him so bad, Lily.”

Lily reaches down, uses one hand to pull her soaked underwear to the side, and uses the other to line up Barty’s cock with her dripping cunt. “Whatever you want, baby,” she says with a devious smile before sinking down on him.

[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER FOUR

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: wonder by shawn mendes.

🤍 author’s note: you don't want to miss this one 😏

Step 4 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

One Bed — : A narrative device used primarily in romance and romantic comedy genres, where two characters, typically with a burgeoning romantic tension, are forced to share a single bed.

The halfway point. So far, we’re four days in and my devious schemes are already proving fruitful. The tension between Theo and Y/N has been off the charts lately, but it just needs one final little push. After my minion informed me that Theo has been cheating the system by sleeping on the couch, it’s time to take away that barrier once and for all. 

Fourth Year, Slytherin Dormitories

“I look ridiculous,” you murmured at your reflection. 

“Ridiculously hot,” Pansy corrected. 

Behind you, she curled a section of your hair with her wand, letting it fall in soft tendrils while you fretted in front of the mirror. Tonight was the night. Ever since the start of term, the Yule Ball was all anyone could talk about. At first, you were just as excited as the rest of your classmates, but the closer it got, the more anxious you felt. 

You swallowed thickly, wondering why in the bloody hell you allowed Pansy to rope you into buying this dress. Examining your reflection, you smoothed down the front of the baby blue ball gown, fingers trailing over the plunging neckline delicately covered in white lace.

The dress was a lot more daring than anything in your wardrobe, but Pansy insisted. She was convinced that it was perfect for you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The ball gown certainly left little to the imagination. It cinched your waist like a lover’s embrace, the blue fabric resting right above your left thigh in a high slit that accentuated your legs before flowing into a dreamy tulle train. Still, you couldn’t deny that it was beautiful. 

“This dress was made for you, babe.” Pansy declared as she finished pinning your hair up. “Graham is going to die when he sees you.” 

At the mention of your date, you blanched. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Graham. Since the beginning of fourth year, you’ve gone on a handful of dates with him and they’ve all been relatively pleasant, but that was the problem. There was no spark, no excitement, no butterflies. No matter how hard you willed it into existence. 

There was only one person who made you feel that way, but that was a complication for another day. Theo already loathed Graham enough — truly, he loathed any guy that showed interest in you, but Graham had been the first one that your best friend hadn’t successfully deterred. When he asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball, it only seemed natural to accept. Now that it loomed close, you felt sick to your stomach. 

Still, you tampered down the anxiety and turned to your friend. If anyone had a right to dread the night ahead, it was Pansy. 

“Will you be alright tonight?” 

In a rare display of vulnerability, Pansy's smile dropped as she met your gaze in the mirror. Instantly, you pulled her to the edge of her bed and knelt down next to her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay in and watch movies. Just say the word and I’ll cancel, Pans.” 

Just a few days ago, she had broken things off with Padma after the Ravenclaw announced that she would be attending the Yule Ball with Ron bloody Weasley. It came as a shock, given the fact that Padma and Pansy had been seeing each other since term started. 

You thought things were going well. Pansy had been out to your group of friends for a couple of months now and while everyone had been supportive of her journey, Padma was reluctant to make things public. Her own twin hadn’t even been aware of their relationship. You understood that coming out looked differently for everyone, but it broke your heart to listen to Pansy doubt herself. She didn’t deserve to be kept as a secret. 

“And forfeit the chance to show my ex-girlfriend what she’s missing out on?” Pansy said, sniffing haughtily and squaring her shoulders back. “Not bloody likely.” 

“There’s the Pansy Parkinson I know.” 

Much to her annoyance, you pulled Pansy into a hug. Sighing, she relented and squeezed back as you grinned. “You know, I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart. Patil’s an absolute idiot for ever letting you go. You’re the smartest, funniest, and hottest witch I know. You’re the motherfucking Pansy Parkinson. Any witch in this castle would kill to have you as their girlfriend.” 

Your friend chuckled. “Thank you, Y/N. It feels strange to be on the other end of a motivational speech. Does it always feel this way when I do it?” 

“Well, you tend to be a little bit more forceful,” you teased. “But I love you for it.” 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Just as you pulled away, a sharp knock startled you out of the tender moment. You and Pansy stared at each other. 

“Come in,” Pansy called. 

Draco stumbled through the door, his platinum blonde hair uncharacteristically tousled and his pale complexion tinged with a deep flush. The Malfoy heir looked like he just finished sprinting through the castle. “It’s Theo,” he breathed.

At the mention of your best friend, you sprang to your feet. “What happened?” 

“He just received a patronus from Rome,” Draco explained. “Nonna is in the hospital.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Is she alright?” 

“Theo didn’t say much, but he’s with the headmaster right now. They’ve given him permission to floo to Rome.” 

“I have to — I have to go —” You couldn’t breathe. Fear threatened to overcome you entirely, but you fought against it. Theo needed you. “I can’t let him be alone.” 

“I know,” Draco agreed. “Professor Snape said he’s leaving within the hour, so we have to hurry.”

As quickly as possible, the three of you rushed out into the corridor. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble tile echoed as you and Pansy followed Draco’s lead. In his haste, Draco stomped down the staircase and nearly collided with the person waiting at the bottom step. 

At the landing, Graham stood at attention. Your date was wearing a perfectly tailored deep blue dress robe with shiny leather shoes, which made him appear taller than he actually was. His dark hair was slicked back and away from his green eyes that now roamed over your figure. In his hands was a delicately crafted corsage, presumably for you. 

“There you are,” said Graham. He straightened the front of his robes, impatience flickering through his expression. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“I’m so sorry, Graham, but now is not a good time.” You rushed out as Draco tapped his watch, signaling the hour. Theo could be stepping through the floo any moment now. “I have to go. It’s an emergency.” 

Graham frowned. “What’s happened? What do you mean you have to go?” 

“Theo’s grandmother is in the hospital. I don’t have time to explain, but please know I’m very sorry to miss the ball.” 

“Miss the ball?” He repeated in disbelief. “You’re ditching me for Nott?” 

Graham was well aware of Theo’s dislike of him. In fact, the feeling was mutual. He didn’t like that the two of you were so close, but there was nothing to be done about that now. 

“Of course she is! This is a family emergency, you twat. Y/N would never leave Theo alone at a time like this.” Draco growled, frustration written all over his face. “Now get out of the bloody way, Montague.”  

“This can’t be happening.” 

“Look, we can talk about it when we get back, but I really have to go.” 

“No,” Graham firmly stated. He gripped your wrist and held you in place. Fury like no other surged through you. “You have to choose. It’s either me or Theo.” 

Without thinking, you snatched your arm away and leveled Graham with an icy glare. “Theo. I pick Theo. You may be my date for tonight, but he’s — Theo is — Theo is my person.” 

You didn’t wait for a reaction. You couldn’t care less about the fallout. Graham should’ve known better than to give you an ultimatum. In your mind, there was no choice other than Theo. You would always pick him. Shoving Montague out of the way, you sprinted through the castle with Pansy and Draco following closely behind. When you reached the headmaster’s office, the phoenix statue standing guard over the entrance gave you pause. 

“How do we get in?” you asked frantically. 

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. He examined the stairs, looking for any sort of opening. 

Pansy stomped on the spiral staircase in an attempt to get it moving, but nothing happened. With determination, you plucked your wand from your dress pocket and instructed your friends to move. If you had to bombarda the bloody thing, you would. 

“Drop your wand, Miss Y/L/N.” 

You whirled around to find the head of your house staring down at you in disapproval. Professor Snape stood between you and the door, his impenetrable gaze sliding from your wand to the phoenix statue. You held your chin high and your wand even higher. In all your years at Hogwarts, you had never defied Snape so openly, but you were determined to get into that office one way or another.

“What exactly is your plan?” Snape asked with his arms crossed. “Decimate the headmaster’s beloved statue to gain entrance?” 

“If it came to that, then yes.” You held your wand steady even though anxiety and apprehension brewed within you like a malevolent storm. 

Draco shot to his feet. “She just needs to see Theo, professor.” 

Snape appraised you for a moment. You made no indication of standing down. “Follow me, then. The headmaster has been expecting you.” 

Without further explanation, Snape climbed onto the spiral staircase. Pansy and Draco squeezed you into a hug and wished you luck. You promised to send them word as soon as you could. As the stairs began to ascend, you watched anxiously as their faces disappeared from view. 

Inside the headmaster’s office, Theo paced back and forth while Dumbledore attempted to comfort him. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with a baby blue vest and matching tie, the latter of which now hung loosely around his neck as he tugged at the silk. The sight of it was heart wrenching. Even though his expression was cold and distant, you could tell that Theo was worried beyond belief. His fear was as palpable as your own. 

“Teddy?” 

Relief washed over Theo as he turned to find you standing before him. Your best friend gravitated towards you, his lower lip trembling as you surged forward to gather him in your arms. 

“You came,” he murmured in a broken whisper. 

“Of course I did,” you assured him as you rubbed his back. “I wouldn’t leave you alone at a time like this.” 

Theo took a deep breath as you cradled his cheek. His gaze roamed over your dress, apprehension written all over his features. “I’m so sorry, fragolina. I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I know how much you were looking forward to the ball. Fuck, Montague must be furious —” 

“To hell with Montague,” you stated firmly. “You’re more important.” 

Your best friend slid his hand into yours, squeezing tightly as he faced Dumbledore and Snape. “We’re ready to go now.” 

Within a few moments, you found yourself stepping through the lobby of a hospital. Healers milled about in the large, brightly lit room, rushing off to care for their patients. The sight of the yellow robed witches and wizards gave Theo pause. You could only imagine that their presence brought forth traumatic memories of his mum’s frequent trips to St. Mungo’s. 

Steeling yourself, you marched right up to the front desk and greeted the elderly witch sitting behind the counter. She gave a wide berth at your overly formal attire, but smiled politely when she caught herself. 

“Buonasera, siamo qui per vedere Serafina Conti.” 

“Qual è il tuo rapporto con il paziente?”

“Grandson,” Theo rasped. “I’m her grandson.” 

The healer checked the records, her eyes skimming over the patient charts. “Serafina is under heavy sedation. The rest of your family has been contacted and should be arriving soon.”

“What exactly happened?” 

“Your grandmother contracted a case of Forest Cough. Typically, the cough is very mild. Had Serafina sought treatment earlier this week, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but since she waited, it developed into a fever.” 

You swallowed thickly. “Will she be alright?” 

“Her healer has her on a dose of magical antibiotics, which also acts as a mild sedative. With a few hours of rest, Serafina should recover quite quickly. If any other symptoms arise, we do advise that she seek treatment as soon as possible. The worst thing you can do is wait.” 

“Thank you so much.” The weight on your heart lessened at the reassurance. Nonna would be alright. That was all that mattered. “Could we please see her?” 

The witch nodded. “Of course. Follow me.” 

The two of you followed the healer through a long corridor. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow color that matched the healer’s robes, but even its sunny shade couldn’t mask the cold and sterile feeling of the hospital. Beside you, Theo tensed as you passed room after room of patients, his gaze lingering on the still bodies within. 

You squeezed his hand, distracting him from his own memories. “It’s alright,” you murmured. “Nonna is going to be alright, Teddy.” 

Theo tore his gaze away from a pale witch laying still on a stretcher, his expression shifting from worry to relief. He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand back. 

Just then, the elderly witch led you into a private room. She poked her head through the door, alerting nonna of your presence. “Serafina, there’s visitors here to see you.” 

As she ushered you in, you couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile nonna looked. To you, Serafina Conti had always been larger than life, but right now, you realized that even a strong woman like her wasn’t invulnerable. Be that as it may, nonna haughtily sat up in her bed and crossed her arms as though she owned the place. 

With a look of disapproval, she tutted at the both of you. “Why are you here?’

“Aldo sent a patronus,” Theo explained. “He said you were in the hospital. We were worried sick!”

“You know how your cousin loves his theatrics,” Nonna said with a nonchalant wave. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“They said they had to sedate you, that you had Forest Cough and you waited so long that it turned into a fever —”

“The healers are overzealous, as usual. All this fuss over a cough. It’s ridiculous, really.” 

“Stop treating it like a joke!” Theo snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. You had never heard him speak to his grandmother like this, which told you how truly upset he was about the entire situation. “I could’ve lost you, nonna. I can’t — I can’t go through that again.” 

Nonna’s expression softened. She knew more than anyone how the loss of her daughter nearly broke Theo. “I’m alright, Theodore. I apologize for worrying you, but I promise that everything is fine.” Theo’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing from his body as his grandmother held his hand. “Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Who’s going to help plan you and Y/N’s wedding?” 

A choked sob broke free from your throat. You hadn’t even realized that you were holding in tears until this moment. For the past hour, you were focused on doing whatever it took to get to Rome. Now that you were standing before nonna, the possibility of losing her crashed over you all at once. 

You sniffled and wiped an errant tear away as she took your hand. “Don’t cry, piccolina. It’ll take more than a silly little cough to take me out.” 

“We were so worried,” you confessed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m alive and kicking,” she joked. In a softer tone, she said, “Thank you for accompanying Theodore. As upset as I am that you both skipped the Yule Ball to be here, I am glad I got to see the two of you like this. You make a beautiful couple.” 

“Nonna,” Theo groaned. “Now is really not the time.” 

Nonna rolled her eyes, ignoring her grandson. “So, tell me. When did Theodore finally pluck up the courage to ask you to be his date?” 

Theo sighed, knowing that there was no stopping his grandmother. He busied himself with tidying up her surroundings, flinging the curtains open to reveal a stunning view of the city. Rome was a beauty to behold, its ancient streets thrumming with excitement even at this late hour. In the distance, you could make out the Sistine Chapel under the glittering stars.

“I was actually supposed to go with someone else.” Up until this point, you had completely forgotten all about Montague. You knew you’d have to deal with that when you returned, but he seemed rather insignificant given all that had occurred. “Graham Montague.” 

Nonna wrinkled her nose. The gesture told you all you needed to know about her opinion of him. “If you were going with the Montague boy, then why are you and my grandson matching?” 

Your gaze flickered up to Theo’s baby blue vest and tie, which were both a perfect match to the color of your ball gown. “I don’t know, actually. Teddy never saw my dress. I might have mentioned that I was wearing blue, but not the exact shade.” 

“This is the shade of blue that you always say you look best in,” Theo explained. “It’s your favorite color. Everyone knows that.” 

“Nobody knows that.” 

“Well, I know that.” 

Graham certainly hadn’t. You had shown him the exact color, yet he still picked the wrong shade to wear. You thought that perhaps boys were just clueless when it came to this sort of thing. After all, blue was blue. But Theo knew. Of course he knew.

An amused smirk appeared on nonna’s face as she watched the interaction. She was outright grinning when Theo busied himself with her pillows, fluffing them quite aggressively to hide the flush on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile. 

An hour later, Theo’s cousin Aldo finally arrived from Vallara. It had been a nightmare to journey to Rome, given that the floo station in the countryside closed earlier than most. Aldo had to travel to Amalfi by apparating, which took quite the toll on him. Regardless, he was glad to see that nonna was in stable condition. 

The rest of Theo’s cousins piled into the small room, nearly causing a fire hazard from the sheer amount of people packed in such a tiny space. The two of you gave them time to fuss over nonna, happily changing into the extra clothes they had brought. The ball gown was a feat to remove, the tulle and silk nearly suffocating you as you tried to maneuver out of it in the bathroom stall. In the end, you prevailed. Despite the fact that Theo’s sweats and hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, you were thankful to be in comfier clothing. 

After chatting with his cousins and ensuring that nonna would be properly cared for, the two of you said your goodbyes. You wished you could stay longer, but it was time to return to the castle. Under the silver moon, you and Theo walked through the empty streets, marveling at the beauty of Rome. 

“I never got to tell you,” Theo said suddenly. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

“Looked,” you corrected. “No offense, but my dress was a little more fashionable than this outfit.” 

“You could wear a plastic bag and I’d still think that you’re beautiful, bella.” 

You flushed at the compliment, hiding its effect behind a curtain of hair. “Thank you, Teddy.” 

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have gotten through all of that without you.” Theo took your hand, twirling the emerald ring on your finger with a small smile. “I’m sorry that I messed things up for you with Montague.” 

“Don’t lie, Teddy. You’re not sorry.” 

Theo smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. I’m not.” 

“It’s alright. It probably wouldn’t have worked out between us anyways.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I don’t think he really knew me,” you mused. “He couldn’t even remember my favorite color.” 

“What an idiot,” teased Theo. “Still, you must be bummed about missing the ball. I know you were looking forward to it.” 

“There will be other balls,” you responded. “This was more important.” 

Theo lifted your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re here with me, bella.” 

“Me too, Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Me too.” 

Day Four, The Clay Cliffs

Laughter emanated from your phone while you recounted the events of the past few days to your parents. When you described the trip to the Temple of Cupid, your mum teared up as your dad comforted her in the back garden. The two of them were having afternoon tea when you called, which was the perfect time to chat and catch up. 

Attempting to lighten the mood, your dad peered into the screen. “Is that the infamous convertible?” 

You grinned and panned around the baby blue car, which you were currently lounging in as you waited for the rest of your friends to arrive. Theo insisted on driving up the Clay Cliffs, while Pansy and the boys rented bikes to take the more scenic route. You had absolutely no desire to struggle up the cliffside, so you opted to accompany your best friend instead. 

As if on cue, Theo bounded back into the car after begrudgingly helping a group of tourists with directions. “Hi Laurel! Hi Alistair!’” 

Your parents waved as Theo slipped into the driver seat. He grinned into the camera before snatching your favorite heart shaped sunglasses off your head and placing them over his eyes. “Hi, Theo. Congratulations on the car. She’s a beauty!”

“Theo hasn’t hit a single curb our whole trip. The driving lessons finally paid off, dad.” 

“I’m proud of you, son.” 

Beside you, Theo flushed and shyly thanked your dad. Shifting in his seat, he grabbed the phone from your hand and squeezed himself into frame. No matter how many times you explained the technology of video calls to him, Theo still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t a form of magic. 

“The garden looks great, Alistair.” Theo lowered his sunglasses and squinted at the screen. “The cherry tree looks like it’s blooming.” 

You furrowed your brow. “When did you add a cherry tree?” 

“The start of summer,” your dad answered. “Theo helped me plant it before he left for Vallara.” 

“He also cooked us a fantastic dinner,” your mum added. She looked wistful, probably fantasizing about your best friend’s cooking. “I still dream about that carbonara.” 

“I promise to cook it for you the next time I visit.” 

“Speaking of which,” your dad interjected. “Are we still on for Sunday tea when you’re back in town?” 

“Of course,” Theo assured. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“You guys are having tea without me?” you asked incredulously. 

Your mum nodded. “Well, we have to do something to fill our time while our little girl is off at Oxford.” 

Theo nudged you, smiling. “Don’t worry, bella. Now that I have my car, I can come and kidnap you during the weekends.” 

You beamed. “Thanks, Teddy.” 

Just then, you heard bells ringing through the clearing. The rest of your friends had finally caught up, racing up the narrow trail in colorful bikes. 

Mattheo honked his horn, the wind plastering his curls to his cheek as he pedaled uphill. “Come on lovebirds, it’s time. Last one to dive off the cliff owes the group a round tonight!” 

Your mum let out a surprised squeak. “Please tell me you’re not jumping headfirst off a cliff.” 

“I would, but then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N  Y/L/N!” 

“Hm, what was that, mum? I think you’re breaking up.” 

Theo snickered as your mum began to lecture the two of you. Fortunately, your dad talked her down before she could continue her rant. “Bye, sweetheart, have fun! You too, son. Take care of our little girl. Love you both.” 

Your best friend waved at your parents, a grin present on his face. “Always! Love you, miss you. See you soon!” 

“Love you mum and dad. Talk to you later!.” 

After bidding your parents goodbye, you and Theo made your way up to the top of the Clay Cliffs. At the peak, Mattheo waved you towards the cliff’s edge. Cautiously, you made your way over to where the rest of the boys stood. The four of them were busy placing bets on who could do the most flips before landing. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t break your neck. It would put a damper on my holiday.” 

“My money’s on you,” you stated as you draped an arm over her shoulder. You don’t know why the boys bothered. Pansy was by far the most athletic out of all of you. 

“Are you making the jump this year?” 

Your stomach flipped as you peered over the cliffside. The drop was at least fifty feet, which was intimidating enough without your paralyzing fear of heights. Still, you were determined to face this phobia of yours once and for all. You didn’t know when you’d get another chance to share this moment with your favorite people. Despite your determination, it didn’t make the task less daunting. 

Steeling yourself, you nodded. “Yes. It would be a shame to come all this way and not do it.” 

Pansy smiled and squeezed your hand. “You’ve got this, babe.” 

The support gave you a little boost of confidence, especially after the boys assured you that they’d all be waiting at the bottom and cheering you on. You watched in anticipation as Blaise and Draco went first, their dives perfectly synchronized as they flipped two times in the air before slicing through the water. 

“Showoffs,” Mattheo muttered as he kicked off his shoes. He squinted at the waves below, no doubt calculating if he can beat Blaise and Draco. 

“You’ve got this, Matt,” you encouraged. “You’re by far the most obnoxious competitive person I know. Show them how it’s done.” 

“Thanks, I think?” Mattheo responded with an amused chuckle. He raised a brow as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “Mind giving me a good luck kiss?” 

“I will kick you off this damn cliff,” Theo threatened.

With a smirk, Mattheo saluted the two of you before joining your friends below. Just as you predicted, he executed three flips on the way down. Enzo went shortly after and tied with Mattheo, much to the latter’s annoyance. Pansy gracefully followed with a series of four flips that had you cheering and whistling. 

Finally, it was your turn. You slowly peeled your dress off and carefully arranged it next to everyone else’s clothes. Theo tugged his shirt off before flinging it in the same general direction. You shook your head as you folded it up for him, rolling your eyes fondly while he apologized with a sheepish grin. 

Those familiar watercolor eyes snagged on your blue dotted bikini, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but return the favor, cheeks heating as you shamelessly scanned Theo’s toned chest and chiseled abs. When he was younger, Theo often complained about his lanky build, but you liked how tall and lean he was. He’d certainly grown into it now. As if those mesmerizing eyes and sex tousled waves and impish grin wasn’t enough, Theo also had to be funny and kind and sweet. 

Truly, it was unfair to the rest of the world. 

“Are you nervous, bella?” 

You shook off your daydreams and returned to reality. “A little.” You made the mistake of looking down at the waves below. From this point of view, everything seemed that much more terrifying.  “Is it silly that I’m scared?” 

Theo gently grabbed your hand, prying you away from anxiously twisting your emerald ring. “I don’t think it’s silly at all,” he replied. “It’s normal to feel scared.” 

“But you’re not scared of anything.” 

Your best friend chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’m scared of everything, all the time. I just act like I’m not.” 

“Really?” 

Theo nodded. “Do you remember the first time I met the guys?” 

“At Malfoy Manor, right? When we were eight.” 

“I was so scared that they wouldn’t like me, that they wouldn’t understand my accent, but mostly I was scared that you’d figure out that they were funnier and smarter and cooler than I was and I’d lose my best friend.” 

Your expression softened. “You could never lose me, Teddy.” 

“I know that now,” Theo said with a smile. “But back then, I was terrified. Until you told me that we were a package deal. That if they didn’t like me, then you didn’t like them either because we came as a pair. You couldn’t have one without the other.” 

“I was only stating the obvious.” 

“Maybe, but you don’t know what that meant to me. Besides mum, no one has ever stood up for me like that. I remember you threatening to push Flint into the garden fountain when he said I sounded funny even though he was older and bigger than the both of us combined.” 

The memory made you chuckle. “If only I had that courage now.” 

“You do,” Theo assured you. “My point is, you’re the bravest person I know. I’m never scared when I’m with you.” 

“You’ve never told me that before,” you said softly, sniffling a little. You couldn’t help it. Theo knew exactly what to say to put your mind at ease. 

“I was saving it for the view,” Theo replied cheekily. “It really gives it that theatrical effect.” 

Though you could still feel your heart beating against your ribcage, your anxiety lessened. You squeezed Theo’s hand, mostly to remind yourself that he was here with you. His presence always grounded you. 

“Will you jump with me?” you asked shyly. 

Theo’s smile was like a shot of espresso, warm and soothing as it surged through your nervous system like caffeine. You could see why people said that coffee was as addictive as the next hard drug, because you were pretty sure that you’d chase this high for the rest of your life. 

Your heart soared as he squeezed your hand back. “Of course, fragolina,” he declared proudly. “I’d be offended if you didn’t pick me to do something so stupid and reckless with.” 

“You’re quite right. The most stupid and reckless things I’ve ever done in my life have included you in some way or another.” 

Theo grinned and kissed the back of your knuckles. “You’re stalling.” 

“Maybe a little bit.” 

“We’ll do it together,” he said. “Like everything in life. On the count of three, we jump, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“One…two…”

“Wait, jump on three or after three?” 

“Now!” 

With a scream, you and Theo broke out into a sprint and leapt off the cliffside. Your stomach turned inside out and upside down while your heart galloped in your chest. The adrenaline kicked in as you plunged through the water, the waves splashing all around you as you kicked back up to the surface. 

It was scary, it was exhilarating, but most of all, it was reassuring because when you broke free, Theo was still holding your hand.

Later that night, you found yourself ducking into the mouth of a cave. Behind you, the boys grumbled as they crouched, nearly hitting their heads on the jagged rocks. Draco mumbled something about sullying his expensive silk button down, while Enzo mocked his cousin with an overly snooty accent. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Blaise asked warily. 

“Have I ever steered you wrong, Zabini?” 

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” 

To be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame Blaise for doubting your best friend. Theo promised to bring you and your friends to the hottest party in town only to lead you into the heart of a cave. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Just a little more,” he urged. “Then you’ll see that Theodore Nott always delivers. Isn’t that right, bella?” 

You scoffed. “Well, Theodore Nott needs to deliver a little faster, because my feet are absolutely killing me. Had I known we were going spelunking, I would’ve opted out of heels.” 

“I second that,” Pansy huffed in annoyance. “I’m honestly considering throwing my stiletto at your head, Nott.” 

“Keep your shoes to yourself, ladies,” Theo warned as he led you further into the cave. 

In the distance, you could hear the muffled sound of music and the thump of the bass echoing through the rock. You gaped as the crowd came into view. Lights flashed along the cavern, pulsing to the beat of the music. The inside of the cave looked like a club, complete with a DJ, a fully stocked bar, and a makeshift dance floor. 

“How did you even know about this?” Draco asked. 

“I was invited by a local,” Theo responded slyly. “Speaking of which, here’s our host now.” 

The local was none other than Dante, who was now strolling up to your group with a tray full of limoncello. You watched in confusion as Theo exchanged cheek kisses with Dante as though they were old friends. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Pansy greeted. 

“Indeed,” Dante agreed. “I must admit, I was surprised when Theo called me up after your visit to the vineyard. I got the feeling that he wasn’t too fond of me.” 

“What would ever make you think that?” quipped your best friend. 

Dante chuckled. “After he proposed a fresh start, I couldn’t help but agree. Besides, there is no way I’d pass up the chance to show you the hottest party in town. Welcome to Vallara’s most exclusive club, my friends.” 

“Wow,” Mattheo exclaimed. “This is sick.” 

Enzo nodded in agreement. “Is that a body paint station? Did that girl just take off her top — where are you going, Mattheo? Hey, wait for me!” 

You chuckled as the two boys hustled to the other side of the room. Theo rolled his eyes and apologized for their behavior, but Dante merely waved it off before passing out the limoncello. 

“To new friends,” Theo proposed. 

Dante clinked his glass with his. “To new friends!” 

The limoncello was dangerously sweet and smooth, its tart aftertaste causing your face to pucker. The drinks flowed after that as Dante introduced your group of friends to the crowd. For the most part, everyone in attendance was a local, which made you feel honored to be welcomed into their midst. 

As always, Theo was a natural at working the crowd. Your best friend seemed to have taken your advice to heart, because he and Dante were currently laughing and chatting with yesterday’s not-so-great first impression clearly forgotten. From the glimpses you stole from the dance floor, Theo was currently trying to play wingman, talking Dante up to a very handsome local. He took the job quite seriously, politely declining any attention thrown his way. 

“How is it fair that Nott is turning girls away while none of them will even look at me?” complained Mattheo. 

“It’s because you reek of desperation.” Draco responded honestly, brushing off a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. 

“And he doesn’t?” Mattheo exclaimed. “Theo’s been following Y/N around like a lost puppy all summer. Hell, all his life.” 

“That’s not desperation, you dolt,” Pansy scoffed. “That’s love.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Theo’s not in love with —” The protest died in your throat as Theo caught your eye from across the room. His face lit up when he spotted you like you were the beacon he’d been searching for in the dark. 

Mattheo ignored your comment entirely. “So if I fall in love, girls will flock to me?” 

Draco shook his head. “That’s not the point. When you fall in love, no one else matters. You can’t even see anyone but them. You just know deep down inside that you’ve found your person.” 

“Y/N.” You startled as Theo hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“What?” asked Mattheo.

“My person,” Theo clarified. “It’s Y/N. That’s what Draco was talking about, right?” 

Draco smirked. “Told you, Riddle.” 

The shit eating grins remained on your friend’s faces even during the walk home from the cave. It didn’t help that Theo insisted on giving you a piggyback ride through the cobblestone streets after one too many complaints about your aching feet. As he set you down on the bathroom counter, Theo shook his head. 

“I will never understand why you choose to punish yourself this way, bella.”

You shrugged, watching as your best friend removed the death traps from your feet. “Beauty is pain, Teddy.” 

“Must be why I’m always aching,” Theo remarked with a dramatic sigh. “Pretty hurts.” 

You snorted as you jumped off the counter and began your ten step skincare routine. Theo traded places with you, swinging his long legs while he handed you product after product. He grinned like a little kid when you swiped toner, moisturizer, and serum onto his face.  Not that he needed it. Irritatingly enough, his skin was clear as day without the aid of expensive products. 

After you finished brushing your teeth together, the two of you changed into pajamas and settled for the night. You buried yourself in bed, sighing at the cold sheets and fluffy pillows. Theo made his way over to the love seat that he’d been sleeping on for the past few nights, but it was gone. Nowhere to be found. He stared at the empty spot in complete bafflement. 

“Is the couch…”

“Yup.” 

“Completely gone?” 

“Mhm."

“Disappeared off the face of the earth.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Oh god,” you groaned. “I’m sorry, Teddy. I have a feeling this is Pansy’s doing. She’s been scheming all summer. First the honeymoon suite and then this.” 

“It’s okay, fragolina,” Theo assured you. “I can just sleep on the living room couch.”

You shook your head vehemently. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

“I’m fine, bella.” 

“Theo,” you whisper, your voice disrupting the blissful bubble of silence. “I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.” 

Realization flooded Theo’s features. He smiled softly, shy and sweet as he made his way over to you. Making room for him, you threw the blankets back and watched as he crawled into bed beside you. Theo settled on his side, his head resting on the pillow as he faced you. 

You mirrored his action, suddenly feeling vulnerable as those piercing blue eyes flitted over you. “Hi.” 

Theo grinned. “Hi.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The serene sounds of the countryside lapped all around you; the gentle breeze swaying gently through the open window, the soothing lull of the waves kissing the shore, all of it syncing with the rhythmic beating of your heart. 

The moonlight streamed into the room in glittering strips of silver, its light bathing Theo in its ethereal glow. His fluffy hair, his boyish grin, his sleepy eyes. You had never seen anything more beautiful and breathtaking in your life. 

“You’re my person, too.” 

The smile on his face would’ve put the stars to shame. The gravity of it was magnetizing, drawing you in like an inevitable force. 

“Do you know that you’re my favorite person in this entire world?” 

“I had a feeling,” Theo teased. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, preparing a sarcastic response, but you stopped short when he leaned closer. His knuckles brushed against your cheek. “I’d say the same, but it seems like an understatement to call you my favorite person in the world when you are my world.” 

“Teddy…”

“Too cheesy?” he asked with a boyish grin. 

“No, it’s perfect.” You took his face in your hands, cataloging every freckle and mole as though everything about him wasn’t already seared into your mind. “You’re perfect.” 

You didn’t know who moved first. It might’ve been him, it might’ve been you, but at the end of the day, all that mattered was that his lips were on yours. As Theo kissed you, you realized then that you’d never truly known what it meant to hunger, to crave — not truly. Not like this. 

The kiss itself was soft and gentle and sweet, but it was also all-consuming. The pressure of his lips against yours brought you relief. It was the breaking of clouds, the pattering of rain, the downpour after an endless drought. 

Your fingers slipped through his silky locks as Theo tugged you closer, his hands snaking around you in a tight embrace as though he was afraid you might disappear. You wanted to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t even if you tried, but you were too drunk on him — his scent, his touch, his kisses. 

This, you thought, was exactly what you were made for. 

Theo pulled away, his gaze tender as it flickered over your face. You touched your fingers to your lips, already missing the absence of his kisses. 

“I’ve been waiting for that all my life,” Theo whispered in awe.

“I had a feeling,” you teased back.

“I like when you’re cheeky,” Theo chuckled, burying his face in your neck. He placed a kiss under your jaw. “And I like how soft your skin is.” Another kiss on your cheek. “I like how red and flushed you get when I compliment you.” 

Theo pressed his lips against yours Once, twice, three times. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to savor the taste of your cherry chapstick, to swallow the soft little sigh that escaped your mouth every time he kissed you, to acclimate himself to the new reality of getting to snog his best friend whenever and wherever he wanted. 

“I just really like you.” 

You smiled into the kiss. “I really like you too, Teddy.” 

The confession was the tip of the iceberg of how you felt for him, but it would do for now. As Theo held you in his arms, you listened to the rhythmic pulse echoing in your chest. 

Your heart thumped to the beat of his name. Theo, Theo, Theo. 

It always had and it always will.

[cloveroctobers]

JOEY/ANA LUCIA CRUZ — Spring Writings 🩵

A/N: because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t get inspired by a horror film. This isn’t anything big since I’m “supposed” to be on a writing break but I’ve been in the mood for something domestic lately so here you go 🙂‍↔️

PROMPT is from HERE & I’m using: 2.       “Why did I let you remodel the bathroom?”

.☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚

Joey’s in a mood.

When she wakes up, she’s already aware of the type of time she was on. The room feels like it’s spinning even when she’s laying in bed, the light from her phone to check the time only makes her head feel heavier, and when she pushes herself up into a sitting position in bed she feels as if she’s going to tipple right over onto the floor.

She figures she’s been coming down with something these past few days but did all the proper care the minute she felt unwell. She was a medic, she knows what to do and what her body should feel like. She also didn’t want her sickness to interfere with any time she got to spend with her son. It was baby steps bonding with her son and not to mention her hard-ass of a mother but Joey made a promise to herself to put in the work.

Giving herself time, she’s out of bed and making her way down the hallway which feels like one of those walkthroughs with the strobe lights at the museum. Now that she’s on her feet, she feels as if her body is about to cave in from rattling against the cold. Her shoulders are turned inwards as she uses the wall for leverage to make it to the bathroom. Joey doesn’t bother to feel for the light and just wants to find the toilet, which isn’t far from the entrance, but she doesn’t see the pair of feet stretched out that sends her flying through the bathroom towards where the shower wall should be, that her hands have to reach out for support as she slams to the floor.

She’s hissing at the pain that radiates from her hip and down her femur. Through half lidded eyes she glances around, fingers pressed into her forehead in aggravation as well as discomfort. “Y/n?! Are you fucking serious? Why are you on the floor in the dark?!”

You’re sitting up now, “I see better in the dark remember? That fall looked like it hurt, you good?”

Joey scoffs, “no! I’m not good, I just busted my ass because of what?”

She listens carefully as you clink a wrench against the side of the toilet and her blood feels like it’s simmering as she recalls the reason for your actions, “…Why did I let you remodel the bathroom?”

“To save us money, duh.” You respond as you get up to head over to the brunette.

You hold out your hand, waiting for Joey to find your hand in the dark so you can pull her up. It’s much quicker than anticipated but you help her to her feet anyway. Now she’s moving around you to flick the dim lighting of the room on and gets a good look of the small space. The tub was no longer a tub—being broken down and leaving a mess all along the floor, there were multiple paint swatches on the wall, the mirror above the sink was still in tact along with the toilet.

Joey blinks, “aren’t vampires supposed to be wealthy? Why not have someone else do it for you?”

You cackle, which always sounds like windchimes.

“My carpenter of a father didn’t leave shit behind for us and always expected us to work for our own…just imagine how disappointed he was to hear that his eldest daughter wanted to be a cellist for a living—which was somewhat satisfactory centuries ago. Then my mother? A complete gambler? it would be a miracle for us siblings to even see a hundred dollars. I have the skill so I can do it and you’ll thank me later once my craft leaves you stunned.” You bounced on your toes with a grin while Joey just shook her head.

She never thought after what happened at the manor that she would ever interact with vampires again. Foolish woman. Yet you came along months later when Joey was trying to get her life together and all of a sudden she had a new roommate. Who happened to be a damn vampire! You tricked her and although her guard should have been up, you swore you didn’t want to drink her dry—stating that you weren’t a fan of AB negative blood—you still threw that threat around that you would although it happened to be a empty threat.

Joey was still aware of the strength that you had. And living with a vampire wasn’t so bad until now, with you renovating and her forgetting the crime scene you committed days ago in this same bathroom. You liked to keep the hunts outside of the apartment since the clean up took up quite a lot of time and the stench stained your nails that you had to stop seeing your manicurist and do it yourself! To put it simply, matters went left that night all because of your fling Klaus and Joey came home a lot sooner than expected! You’ve noticed that Joey’s been under the weather a lot lately, being in a brain fog that she seemed to be forgetting things, cold, and sleeping a lot more.

She didn’t relapse, which was great considering everything she told you one late night when she couldn’t sleep. The pack of lollipops were commonly on the list to pick up but as long as she kept up with her meetings and dentist appointments then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about, right?

I know you didn’t believe that.

“Every time you say that, that always equals another outcome,” Joey’s gripping the sides of the sink now and exhales.

You twist your body back and forth as you innocently say, “not sure what you mean buttercup—

“Ugh, shut up! Don’t do the pet names, it makes me nauseous.”

You lightly ask, “Are you pregnant?”

“What the hell did you just say?” Joey is baffled as her head whips to where you stand.

“Just a thought.” You lift your shoulders, “i thought you hit it off with…shit I’m so bad with names.”

“The guy that you forgot to mention was a fucking mutant? I don’t even know what’s worse a mutant or a vampire?!” Joey growled before taking a deep breath after glancing at you pouting at her, “You don’t need to worry about my love life, what you need to worry about is us having a functioning bathroom!”

You point the wrench in the direction of the said item, “the toilet and sink still work. I didn’t mess with the pipes yet! And as your roommate and best friend you’ve ever had or only had—it’s my job to make sure you’re spicing things up.”

Joey lifts a brow, “you think I need a man of a mutant to do that?”

“…if that’s what you prefer, unless you state otherwise…” you place your hand on your hip in anticipation.

Joey huffs, “I’m not doing this with you this morning—

“It’s one pm.” You inform but pull your lips together as Joey glares at you with her dark downturned eyes.

“Could you leave the bathroom so I can actually use it?” Joey manages to get out, feeling a chill and a turn of her stomach wash over her body.

You nod, “sure! Do you think it’s roughly going to be a five minute sesh or forty five because I can get started on dinner or brunch?”

Joey picks at the back of your shirt, actually lifting you off your feet to walk you out of the bathroom, tossing you a bit into the adjacent hallway wall, before slamming the door behind you.

“That wasn’t pleasant,” you sharply exhale as you fix your shirt and make your way down the hallway.

You pass by the kitchen, through the living room to your bedroom which you leave the door open just a crack as you plop down onto your bed belly first. Reaching for the copper rotary, your fingers rotate against the numbers before the ringing begins in your ear.

“Hammy! How are ya? Are we still on for dinner tonight? My friend is getting worse and could really use your help.” You keep your voice leveled just in cause those senses kicked in too.

No matter what Joey thought, you were friends and you only wanted what was best for her.

This life was just not that, in your opinion.

You had to prepare for the worst before she was even aware of what this all was. However tonight with the visit of Abraham, would open her eyes some more unfortunately.

.☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ .☘︎ ݁˖⚘‎₊˚

[madarasgirl]

His Immortal

Permission to use art from the INCREDIBLY talented @vanerchest. Feeling very honoured! I think about this piece often whenever I write Alucard angst.

C/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x senior!Reader, angst, on death and dying, hospital setting, hurt/no comfort, shadow writing. Inspired by the legendary song "My Immortal" by Evanescence Words: 998

You supposed you were the one who was selfish for choosing this mortal fate and leaving your greatest love behind.

Did you regret this path? Sometimes you thought perhaps you did. There would have been tons to gain by becoming an ageless vampire at his side, and on occasion, you used to speculate 'what if?'

It didn't matter. It was far too late to backtrack anyways, and it would be an insult to do so, after living such a beautiful, full lifetime spent with Alucard, teeming with precious memories and magical experiences. He aged with you through the decades ��at least he made it so his appearance did.

But as with all mortals who lived long enough, you too eventually grew very old, frail, and sick. Your body betrayed you and no longer belonged to you. It didn't obey when you wanted to walk, speak, eat, or even breathe.

So here you lay in a hospital bed, intubated and sedated, machines replacing the function of vital organs while multiple drugs dripped nonstop to hold you captive in this realm. What a sight you made, with tubes protruding from every corner on your skeletal form.

Your body may have failed, but fortunately you never developed dementia. Your mental faculties were as crisp as the night you met so long ago. A piece of you was still buried within, floating from above and somehow aware of the happenings around you in your comatose state.

The various alarms and buzzing were only background noises by now, and there was little commotion this time as well, but you felt a sense of relief. Sighing inwardly, you wished Alu would leave your side for a moment so you could just die already, though you knew that was an empty hope. The vampire had not parted from the bedside your entire stay.

Was he scaring the nurses by crying again? You hoped he'd remember to make them forget this time. And not to terrorize the staff and force them to do whatever it took anymore. You recalled the time you surfaced with another set of thick tubes in your neck and groin, and how painful they were. How frightening it was.

"You must live," he whispered to you at night at first. For his sake. So you did, trapped in the confines of your weathered shell, you continued to exist for him, slowly spiralling downhill until now.

With any other man, you'd be helpless to communicate in your vegetative state, but Alucard had never been as mediocre as 'normal.' So you begged him through telepathy. After all these years, reaching for his mind was as easy as sifting through your own thoughts, as natural as breathing (well, back when you were still able to do so independently). You implored him again to let you go. You were terminal and old, with no hope for recovery or any good prognosis. Being connected to every form of life support was not life, just a sad fate that prolonged your suffering and delayed your inevitable expiration.

Long ago, he promised not to let you suffer.

Alu, please don't make them bring me back again when my heart stops.

The weary, congested muscle thudded weakly towards failure. You were already dead in every way except you still possessed vital signs. The numbers were just evidence of the drugs, transfusions, and machines at work though.

The irony wasn't lost on you. At the end of the road, after declining his many offers to turn you when you were a maiden, you were finally just like Alucard, the living dead. You'd laugh if you could.

...More than anything, you didn't want him to see you like this, a husk of the vibrant woman you once were when you fell for each other. The unlikely circumstances of your meeting and scenes from your life flashed by in an instant. The vampire would tell you throughout the decades, when he'd get in one of his romantic moods, that you'd always be his sprightly young woman no matter your age. He actually only told you again yesterday. Or was it last week? 

How long have you been laying here?

The mind's eye saw his seated figure clearly and smiled. Actually, your tired mind pondered, you certainly did not regret a moment of your life with Alucard. He was the perfect partner and his unchecked devotion never gave you a reason to regret choosing him. Your lifespan was too short for that, he used to tell you.

But you regretted leaving him behind to be alone once more.

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

Your heart stopped. And he loved you enough to let you go.

You were free.

Your spirit lifted from the prison of your flesh and you soared, wrapping around your love with your incorporeal form, sinking into him and caressing the unbeating heart that had ever belonged to you. This time, you wiped away the blood tears that fell.

You quivered.

Liberated from the pains and illnesses of advanced age, it was as if you'd become new and for the first time ever, like the fog lifted and you could finally see with clarity. Your non-existent chest tightened at the sight of your love crushed by your death, looking utterly devastated and lost. There was no sobbing or outward breakdown, but you knew his expressions well.

Nebulous fingers smoothed over inky black locks while you cradled his cheek. Glistening eyes the colour of polished rubies stared blankly at your lifeless corpse, your chest still rising and falling mechanically before the ventilator was turned off. He could not feel your soothing touch anymore and it broke you.

...

You will watch over your vampire from above and wait for him for the rest of your eternity, until he returned to dust and was no more. Then you'd meet him wherever he ended up. Just as he was, you were bound by the life you left behind.

And even if he was unaware, he still had all of you.

~End~

(For more angsty romance, check out my one-shot “Without You” on AO3. Warning: Smut abounds in that one. It is about the occasion when Reader chooses to remain human for her remaining days with Alucard. You will find similar themes to this short scene)

[imthegayone]

A Broken Rib (drabble)

Summary: You broke a rib during a stunt, earning yourself a scolding by your girlfriend.

Warrnings: mention of bruising? and some errors (reread this maybe twice)

Author's Note: A small little drabble cause I wanted to get something out for you all but these wips are kicking my ass rn. Also this is inspired by an interview where Britney Snow (i think) broke a rib during a stunt where she had to ram against a car to break it's widow and a fic I read a bit ago were Jenna sprains her ankle at work when she's distracted by a video of reader. (sadly I can't find it or I'd link it) Hope you enjoy 🩵

Word Count: 431

________

“You’re never doing that again.” Jenna reprimands a look in her eyes that says there’s no room for negotiation. However, it was an accident, you knew that and she knew that. The stunt was easy, even your manager agreed that you could ram yourself into the car for the scene. It didn’t stop Jenna from worrying though, the second she was told about your hospital visit a nervous pit settled deep in her stomach. 

“Jen.” You groan, you’re in need of sleep and just want to be held in the shorter girl's arms while you watch your favorite comfort movie. “Don’t Jen, me I’m not the one in trouble, you are.” Crossing her arms, you finally notice just how high her anxiety was. Understanding exactly how much stress someone could put themselves under when not knowing the condition of their loved one. You had experienced the same mounting fear when she sprained her ankle on set a year ago.

You sigh, never wanting to make her sick with worry especially when you were fine. “Baby, I’m okay. It’s one broken rib, plenty of people get broken ribs and survive.” 

“I’m just a little sore.” You add, prodding at the growing colors splayed across your abdomen. “And bruised.” Jenna mumbles knowing she’s not gonna get anywhere with you. You grab her hand placing it above your heart. “I’m fine. We got the shot, neither I nor Naomi need to redo it.” 

“She’s doing all your stunts from now on and I mean it.” Jenna gives you her best stern eyes but she knows you, you’re just like her when it comes to things like this. If you can do it yourself then why not? 

“You know I can’t promise that.” Jenna sighs knowing you’re right. She gently wraps you up in a hug, careful not to hurt you further. She’ll have plenty of time to scold you but for now she’d rather get you into bed to rest. “Just take it easy next time, okay? If you need a break, take one.” 

“I will. I promise.” Promising sincerely, your y/e/c eyes boring into her soft brown ones. “Too bad there’s not gonna be a scar though, I heard women love scars.” You tease, breaking the tension.

“Oh my god, please shut up.” Jenna says hiding her face in your neck at your embarrassing statement. Unable to contain her chuckle at your silly excuse for flirting. “I love you, even though you’re a reckless idiot.” 

“Yeah but I’m your reckless idiot.” 

Squeezing her tighter in your hold. “I love you too.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Gentleman caller

Sanji x reader. NSFW!!

This fic was inspired by Usopp visiting Kaya at her mansion at night. One Piece of course is not that sort of story, but... what if things were allowed to get a little more spicy?

TAGGING @holymusicalmothman @b7717 @mcereal @aamon47 Thanks for asking!!

*****

"Are you sure you don't want a glass of warm milk before you go to bed, miss?"

"I am sure, Kyla." you answer politely. The truth is you haven't drunk a glass of milk to help you fall asleep since you were ten (that is, almost half your life) but your governess keeps asking, every single night, and every single night you answer no; still, you know she does it out of worry and affection for you, which you sincerely appreciate "I think I'll go now; will you tell my father good-night for me, when he returns?"

Kyla promises she will, and returns to the kitchen to clean up after dinner, while you walk out of the villa's large dining room, cross a long corridor and climb the stairs to the upper floor, finally reaching your bedroom.

Except for Kyla in the kitchen you are alone, since the cook and the gardener, who do not reside in the villa, already left, and your father is as usual busy with a business dinner. You don't feel lonely exactly, since that state of affairs has been going on since your mother died when you were still too young to remember her, but it does feel a little weird to live in such a large place, no less than twelve bedrooms on the first floor alone and at least six other rooms that have been closed for years since you literally don't know how to occupy them, when it's only the two of you... a waste of space, even though you and your father often host parties and receive many guests.

And the most important of those visitors by far is going to arrive soon, a person your father has no idea has already visited so many times before...

You take off your shoes, and spend a few minutes in the en-suite bathroom refreshing yourself before closing the bedroom's door behind you. You sigh, happy and excited, as you let yourself fall on the bed, observing the room you have slept in since you were maybe six and that you will soon leave: the desk cluttered with paper models, scarps of fabric and sewing tools; the two mannequins wearing your latest creations, a green cocktail dress and a simpler but elegant light blue men's shirt; the bookstore full of sewing manuals, fashion catalogs and the biographies of your favourite designers; the large poster on a wall, depicting a famous, elegantly dressed model... and the glass door that, only a few minutes after you have retired to your room, starts being hit by tiny pebbles, picked from the garden below.

Your guest is here. You happily stand from the bed, glance quickly to the full length mirror on the wall to make sure your hair is combed and in order, and reach the glass door to quickly step onto the balcony.

Standing in the garden under you like a suitor ready to serenade you, more handsome than a fairy-tale hero and beaming as if about to see all his dreams come true, is him. The former assistant cook of your family, your best friend in the world, your...

"Sanji!" you call out to him, voice barely rising above a whisper as you wave your hand at him, a greeting he returns in kind, clearly happy to see you, hidden among the trunks of the centuries-old trees; the night is particularly dark, heavy clouds covering the crescent moon and most of the stars, but his smile is brighter than any other source of light.

"Are you alone?" Sanji asks urgently as he glances all around him; no one has reason to visit the garden at this hour and the balcony is oriented towards the back of the villa, far from the main entrance through which your father would come in, but you both know how imperative it is to keep your rendez-vous secrets.

"I am; my dad hasn't returned yet and Kyla is in the kitchen. You can come up."

When you decided you would meet in secret at night, five years ago, you had offered to find a rope for him to climb, but Sanji never needed it. Tonight, as usual, you look on as he nimbly climbs the tree closest to the villa's wall, clinging to the huge trunk and then to the largest branches until he's jumping above the balcony and directly in your arms.

You embrace each other, your profiles standing out against the light filtering from the room, and for a full minute neither feels the need to talk. Sanji's arms hold you close by the waist, his lips pressed against your temple in a chaste kiss; you lose yourself in his scent, the costly perfume you bought for him because you knew he liked but couldn't afford it and and that never fails to make you shiver, as you enjoy the sensation of his slim but strong body pressed against yours.

"Do you have it?" you ask after a while, pulling away just enough to look at him in the eyes; you thought about nothing else for days, more nervous than if it had been your own future career at stake "The answer from the school. Did you receive it?"

"I have."

"... and?!"

Sanji, as usual neatly dressed in one of the dark suits he wears at work, smiles at you, his fingers brushing against your face; a small backpack hangs from his shoulder. "Can we go inside before we talk?" he proposes "I have something for you as well."

Knowing he brought you a treat from the restaurant he works at makes you happy, but nothing beats the simple, pure pleasure of his company. Wordlessly you take his hand to lead him inside, leaving the now empty balcony behind.

*****

Your friendship with Sanji began exactly one decade ago; you were the only daughter of a powerful politician, living alone with him at the villa and whose pathological shyness had left her virtually friendless, him a newly orphaned boy your father had decided to hire as assistant to the cook, so that he could support himself. One afternoon, you visited the kitchen to ask for a snack, since you were starving and dinner was still hours away; the cook told you that he was sorry but your father, already then worried for your weight, had strictly forbidden him from feeding you between meals. You noticed Sanji, busy scrubbing a large pot in the sink, but he seemed so focused on his job you decided not to disturb him to introduce yourself.

You left, disappointed but unwilling to insist, out of respect for both your father and the cook who was just following orders, but a few minutes later, as you studied in the library, he joined you, a nervous smile on his face and a salami sandwich in his hands.

"Please don't tell anyone, especially not your dad." he told you as he put it in your hands "I hope you liked it, I put some mayonnaise on it because I saw the cook used it to prepare your school lunch yesterday."

You did (and still do) like mayonnaise on your sandwiches, and in that moment you were doubly astonished: that he heard your request for a snack even though he had looked so engrossed in the cookware to wash, and that he had decided to risk your father's wrath to help you, less than a week after being hired.

"Thank you, I... thank you so much! That was very kind of you." you told him, for once forgetting your shyness "My name is (name). What's yours?"

"I'm Sanji. And don't worry; I'm sure your dad means well, but no one should starve, especially not at our age. Don't tell anyone, ok? I know he forbade the cook from feeding you snacks, and i'm not supposed to visit the family's wing of the villa without a valid reason."

You obviously kept his secret, and from that day on, you and Sanji quickly became inseparable, spending together all your free time from school and work; he secretly fed you every time your father's concern about your weight made the cook limit your meals, and you used your allowance to buy him cooking books he studied to pursue his dream of becoming a famous chef. Apart from your father, you had never loved anyone like him; Sanji was the other half of your soul, an acerbic but steadfast feeling that made you sure you would never feel alone, as long as he were by your side, and you would not have left him for all the treasures, and the good food, in the world.

Your father, who was happy you had finally made a friend and didn't mind you had chosen the kitchen boy and not one of your school mates, who belonged to the city's most affluent and prominent families, never had anything against it... at least until you were both fourteen, when he suddenly decided it was inappropriate for the two of you to spend so much time together; as a sign of peace, he found Sanji a more prestigious job in a famous restaurant at the other side of the city. That, in your father's opinion, would have meant the end of your friendship, but it obviously didn't: and after all, with all the sandwiches and portions of dessert he had snuck you, hadn't your friendship been based on secrecy since the very beginning?

For five years Sanji has spent with you almost every evening he is free from the restaurant; he climbs the trees next to your balcony and you let him in, and sometimes you spend the whole night talking, or leave together to visit a bar or go dancing. Is it dangerous, should your father discover what you are up to? Undoubtedly so, especially since you know he only worries about you, whether it is about the food you eat or the places you visit in a large and dangerous city; but you are an adult, more than old enough to decide how to live your life, and Sanji is always ready to protect you when someone bothers you in a club, and he would never feed you something that could seriously endanger your health. You don't know why exactly your father has suddenly decided you mustn't be friends with him anymore, but you are determined not to lose him, especially now that your relationship has started evolving beyond mere friendship... and your own dreams risk separating you forever.

*****

"So? What did the school say?" you insist as Sanji closes the glass door behind the two of you; your heart is pounding, wishing with every fiber of your being you could change the decision the commission must have taken days ago "Did you get in?"

For years Sanji has dreamed of attending the most prestigious cooking school in the country, the Baratie Culinary Arts Academy in the capital; this year he has finally reached the required age to enroll, but the entrance examination, that your friend has taken two weeks ago, is notoriously difficult, especially for who, like Sanji, also has to apply for a scholarship. Your friend was meant to receive the results of his exam today, and you had decided you would also share your own secret with him... and then, hopefully, you would both have something to celebrate.

"I'll tell you in a minute."

"Sanji, please... I haven't thought about anything else all day!" you complain, fearing your friend's reticence is due to shame for his failure; Sanji, busy emptying his backpack on your desk, smiles, before rubbing the back of his head.

"The truth is... I haven't opened the letter yet." he admits "I hoped we could do it together... mainly because I don't have the courage to do it by myself."

There is nothing wrong with wanting a friend close when one is both scared and excited for something, but in that moment your heart breaks for Sanji: he has lost his parents, had to take care of himself since he was still a child, and while he has a good job and could try again next year, being refused admission to the Baratie would break his heart.

You wait patiently as Sanji quickly sets the table for the two of you: cutlery, napkins, glasses, a bottle of water and his latest effort in the kitchen: two portions of a delicious chocolate cake, bigger than what your father would allow you to eat but still relatively small, since your friend does care about your health.

"This looks delicious, Sanji!" you exclaim, as always happy to taste your friend's latest creations "But wait..."

You walk to the small fridge next to the door, almost hidden under a pile of scraps of fabric left over from your latest creation and that you will find a use for one day, and retrieve a small but expensive bottle of champagne that you have bought in the afternoon.

"I thought we could use it to celebrate; I have also taken two flutes from the kitchen." you explain.

"I still don't know if I got in, (name)."

"I'm sure you did. And if the chefs at the Baratie can't see, and taste, how extraordinarily talented you are, it's their loss." you point out "You wanna open it?"

A minute later you are sitting face to face at your desk, cake and champagne ready to be enjoyed, the white envelope Sanji took from his backpack in your hands.

"Shall I?" you ask softly; your friend, who has never looked so pale and so young, nods.

"Please."

You both hold your breath as you open the envelope and then unfold the single sheet of paper inside. You make sure Sanji cannot see your face as you read...

"So? What... what does it say?"

"Sanji, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, God..." your friend, heartbroken, stares at you for a moment before slumping on his chair, face hidden in his hands "I can't believe it... I was so sure..."

"I'm sorry because you have some very difficult years ahead..."

"... what?"

"Of course. Nights spent studying, sharing a room with six other people, waking up extra-early to go to class... Really, I don't envy you..."

Finally you look at him, beaming, while Sanji's eyes grow bigger as he slowly catches the meaning of your words.

"You mean...?"

"You got in! And you got the scholarship as well. Oh, Sanji, I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it!"

You stand and embrace, laughing with shared delight. "I can't believe it." Sanji murmurs, still as he looks at the admission letter, signed by Zeff, a famous chef who is the Baratie's headmaster "There were so many people at the exam, and at one point I was so nervous I spilled a bowl of vinaigrette on my apron..."

"As I said, an important school like the Baratie, with so many experienced chefs, couldn't not recognize your talent." you point out, happier than you remember ever being "Classes start in a month, you'll have to give your notice at the restaurant."

"Yeah..."

Sanji takes your hands in his, kissing them devotedly. "I could have never done it without you." he murmurs, with the sort of gaze and inflection that, years after your first kiss, still makes you shiver "All the books you have bought me... and it was you who convinced me to apply. I owe you so much, (name)."

"You would have done the same for me; and we both know the two of us are beyond this sort of talk. I am so happy for you, truly; I know you will become a great chef."

Sanji smiles, circling your waist with his arm as he uses his free hand to pick one of the flutes from the desk. "Shall we celebrate, then?"

"Actually..."

"Actually?"

"Actually, I also have something to tell you." you admit, a new, excited smile opening on your face "You know that important fashion school in the capital, the one many of my favourite designers attended?"

Fashion has always been your greatest passion; you have designed clothes since you were a child, and thanks to a family friend who owns a large tailor shop you have learnt the basics of the trade, how to cut fabric, sew and tailor an item of clothing. Your father, who approves of your interests, has offered to introduce you to some fashion designers his friends or associates are acquainted to, but you are determined to accept no recommendations and take no shortcuts; just like Sanji, and any person who has to work hard to realize their dreams, you will pursue your education, earn an apprenticeship at a fashion house, and in time, hopefully, open your own and make a name for yourself as a designer. It will take you years and fashion is a famously difficult field to break into, but you are determined to give your all, so that whatever the future may bring you will be free from regret, and live doing what you love.

"Of course; the Nefertari Vivi Fashion Institute." Sanji promptly answers; miss Vivi is one of your idols, a ground-breaking designer who has revolutionized the fashion world and then focused on teaching, establishing one of the best-reputed educational institutions of the field "So what?"

You smile, still excited almost a week after receiving your own letter, that you asked your father to open for you.

Sanji gapes. "You are kidding."

"I am not!"

Your friend laughs. "And you didn't tell me anything!" he exclaims, and you apologize, telling him you didn't want to disappoint both of them in the not unlikely event you were not admitted.

"But you were?"

You still can't believe it yourself. "I was! There was no exam; I only had to send miss Vivi some of my creations, and a few days ago I received the acceptance letter."

"(name), that's amazing!"

"I know! I can't wait to begin. I also apply for a scholarship, but unfortunately I didn't get it."

Sanji asks whether you plan on asking your father to pay for your classes, but you shake your head: you need to learn to take care of yourself, living alone once you'll move to the capital and earning money to support yourself. To this end, you have contacted a friend who lives in the capital and owns a bookstore: she has accepted to hire you, and you have sold your jewels to pay your tuition fees.

"(name), you didn't!" Sanji exclaims, flabbergasted "Those were your mom's things..."

"I know." you sigh, still feeling saddened and a bit guilty even though you know you did the right thing "But this is my future we are talking about, the opportunity to build a career, and a life for myself, without my father taking care of me or using my family's money to buy whatever I need or want. I want to earn my keep, Sanji; I want to prove I can take care of myself, and that I am more than a spoiled little girl."

Sanji softly points out that no one who knows you could ever think that; he smiles, his handsome face expressing a joy too great and deep for words, as he takes you in his arms once more. "So we are both moving to the capital to study." he mentions "And pursue our dreams. Which means we'll both be very busy..."

"... but we won't have to hide our relationship anymore." you happily finish for him, having already reflected on the matter; you plan on living in a student residence, since their rooms are cheaper than other types of accommodation, and guests are usually not admitted, but at least you will be able to meet in the open, having dates like any other couple instead of having to hide like a married man with his mistress, lest your father learns about your relationship "I can't wait! In a month we'll both be living in the capital, studying with the best in our fields, and nothing will stop us from being together. I... I don't think I've ever been so happy!"

"Me neither." Sanji agrees, one of the flutes in his hand once more "Shall we drink to our future? And then enjoy the cake?"

You agree, but you barely have had the time to clink your glasses together when a sudden noise reaches your ears: an unexpected, but otherwise innocuous noise, at least for who, unlike the two of you, has nothing to hide...

A soft but firm knocking on the door.

Sanji looks at you, suddenly tense; you turn your eyes to the door, wishing to be able to see beyond it. "Yes?"

"(name), it's dad. May I come in?"

The flute almost slips from Sanji's fingers; terrified as if a whole army were standing at the other side of the door, ready to barge in and tear both to pieces, you both nonetheless act quickly, having prepared for such an occurrence since your first nocturnal meeting. Your friend quickly retrieves the flutes and the champagne bottle, while you do the same with the cake plates and the other things placed on your desk; a moment later, Sanji has slipped under your bed, a dusty and uncomfortable hiding spot where nonetheless he'll be safe from your father.

I hope.

"(name)? Is everything all right?"

"Just a moment, dad! I'm coming!" you answer, hoping you sound less nervous, almost terrified, than you feel; you quickly glance all around you, making sure no trace of Sanji's presence is visible, and finally go open the door.

"Hello, dad. How was dinner?" you ask, approaching to kiss him on the cheek; even though he interrupted you and Sanji, you're happy he came to say good-night to you before retiring to his own bedroom.

"Pretty good, even though the lemon cake was not up the restaurant's usual standard. Are you ok?"

"Yes, of course; I was... preparing to go to bed." you answer vaguely, before something in your peripheral vision makes you tense; it is Sanji's backpack, placed where your friend had left it less than half an hour ago: on the bed, perfectly visible.

Shit. SHIT. Shitshitshitshit...

You move a step to the right, so as to prevent your father from noticing the backpack; it is not as compromising as if he had found Sanji's tie, or his shoes, but he could notice the backpack is a men's model, and inside he could find your friend's personal documents, five years after he had forbidden you from having further contact with him. Don't look at it. Don't see it. Please please please...!

Thank God your father, a clever and perceptive man, seems unconcerned with out-of-place objects in your room. "I was thinking tomorrow we could go buy a new suitcase for you; you need a large one, since you'll have to bring most of your things when you'll move to the capital. I hope you'll allow me to pay for that at least."

You smile, grateful for the offer and even more for the intention. "Of course, dad. Thank you."

He smiles, taking your hands in his. "I am so proud of you." he murmurs "I have always known you had a great talent for fashion, but being admitted to such a prestigious school... You'll become the greatest designer of your generation, I'm sure."

"Dad..."

"Please, let me be happy for you. You know I'm always there if you need something, right? I know you have found a job, and you are smart and mature enough to take care of yourself, but if you ever need money, or you want to come home, you can do it; no judgement. Oh, I wish your mom could see you..."

You bite your lip, suddenly unable to talk; a lump of emotion blocks your throat. You are happy, and grateful, that your father supports your desire to move to the capital and attend the Nefertari Institute, especially since he's so protective and you know he wished you would one day follow his footsteps and go into politics, and while you can't wait to start your classes and enjoy life in a big city, the thought of leaving him, and the house where you were born, fills you with sadness... and guilt.

"I... I will never thank you enough for everything you have done for me." you murmur, stepping closer to him to hug your father "And I'm sorry if... if I ever made it hard for you, especially after mom died. I love you very much, dad. I'll be back often to visit, I promise; and I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too, my darling girl." your father answers; he's moved as well, but better than you at hiding it "But I'm so proud you're beginning your life in the world. And I hope you'll let me visit you as well."

"Of course! Every time you can."

"Good. Now, we should both go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He kisses you on the forehead, and soon after he's closing the room's door behind him. You are still staring at it when, a minute later, Sanji joins you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

"Are you all right?" he asks softly; he has known you long enough to perceive what you are feeling, the love for your father and the guilt for the relationship you are carrying out behind his back, the efforts you are making to build a life for yourself away from his protective but constrictive influence and the way you'll miss him terribly and feel guilty for leaving as soon as you could.

"Yeah, just... I was just thinking."

You sigh, turning to face Sanji, desperately trying to return to the carefree joy of five minutes ago, and drive away the melancholia filling your heart. After all, it is normal for children to find their way in life away from their family, and your father is still young, dedicated to his job and career, and has many friends and a new partner he is very close to; he'll be all right, and whatever loneliness and melancholy he will feel, you know he will accept it.

"Your father is a good man." Sanji points out as you both retrieve your drinks and plates from the wardrobe you had hidden them in "He didn't even know me, but he gave me a job when I was alone in the world, and then he found me an even more prestigious one at the restaurant; every berry I ever earned I owe it to him. I'll never forget all the help he gave me."

You smile, happy to hear your friend talk well about your father. "You still have a good opinion of him even if he forbade us from being friends?"

"Well, I shouldn't resent him for that, since we never stopped seeing each other. And he only wanted to protect you, which I can understand."

You blink. "... sorry? What are you talking about?"

"Right, I... I never told you, did I?"

Sanji rubs the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. "You never wondered why your dad was suddenly against us being friends?"

You had. "Well... I thought it was because we weren't children anymore... and you a boy and I a girl..."

"Exactly, but... there was something else. When I was fourteen, I... I wrote you a letter; there was something important I needed to tell you, but I couldn't find the courage to do it in person. I left it on your pillow one day while you were in school, but your father found it... and read it."

You wait for Sanji to elaborate, but he seems focused on staring at the floor, avoiding your gaze. "It was... something inappropriate for a father to read...?"

"Nothing vulgar, if that is what you are wondering; but... it did say I wanted us to be more than friends, and this is what your father opposed, not that I was an orphan without money and prospectives, but because he thought you were too young for that sort of relationship. So... so he asked me to leave things between us as they were, and when I refused, he decided it was better to separate us, and he found me a job at the other side of town, forbidding me from contacting you again, at least until you were of age."

He looks at you, tense since he has no idea how you could react, but the truth is you don't know either. "He sent you away because he didn't want us to date?" you recapitulate in the end, flabbergasted "What would have been so wrong about that? Lots of girls get a boyfriend at fourteen, and he knew you, he knew you would treat me well..."

"Well, he's always been protective of you. Sorry, maybe I should have told you before..."

"It's ok." you reassure him, even though you are not completely sure of it yourself; you understand your father's reasons, and appreciate he didn't simply kick Sanji out in the street, but at the same time you can't believe all of it was to stop your best friend, a boy he knew posed no danger, from confessing his feelings "I... I'm so sorry, Sanji..."

"Well, it wasn't so bad; and as I said, I really don't have a reason to complain, since we did end up becoming more than friends. I felt guilty lying to your dad... but I couldn't give up on you."

He smiles, as he picks one of the flutes up from your desk again. "Now, can we please have a toast to our future?"

You do, happily enjoying your late-night snack; you delicately clink your glasses together before taking a sip, and then feed each other cake, your knees touching under the desk.

Silence has fallen on the room, and on the two of you, as usual when you are with Sanji a comfortable, peaceful silence that you don't feel the need to fill with small talk; you smile at each other, both happy and excited at the future opening in front of you... a future that you will face together as you have always done, finding strength and support in each other.

"Does chef Zeff teaches any class at the Baratie?" you ask after a while; you know the extent of Sanji's admiration for the principal of the cooking school, and it would be amazing for him to learn personally from his idol.

"Not for first-year students; but I heard that he sometimes gives one-on-one classes, if he finds a particularly talented pupil."

"... which means he'll leave all his other classes to tutor you exclusively, as soon as he tastes your True Bluefin sauté... or your salami sandwich."

Sanji smiles; he knows how much faith you have in his cooking abilities, and he never stops being grateful for it. "You're exagerrating."

"I'm not." you very seriously protest, as you clean your dish from any crumble of cake; you know watching your diet means taking care of your health, but you would happily eat three more! "A month and he'll let you skip a year or two, I promise."

"Well, if you are so sure..."

A few minutes later Sanji is putting the dirty plates and cutlery away in his backpack, while you observe the sky out of the glass door, leaning with one shoulder against the wall.

"Once we both live in the capital we won't have to hide anymore, but we'll be so busy with school..." you consider "I'm afraid we won't have a lot of time to spend together."

"Still, it will be an improvement from what we have now. And all the city's school dormitories are in the same campus, which means we can visit each other every time we want."

You nod, still pensive, and a moment later Sanji's arms are circling your waist, his chest pressed against your back.

"It's going to be all right." he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear in a way that makes you shiver in such a pleasant way "We are going to be all right, I promise, no matter how busy we are."

"Oh, I know; believe me, I'm not doubting my feelings, or yours. We have waited for so long to be able to live our relationship in the open, and I can't wait to be able to see you every day, even for five minutes between classes or to cram together at night. It's just..."

You turn in his embrace, almost apologetic as you smile at him. "I feel so happy, as if all my dreams were coming true: attending a great school, not having to hide what we share. It is almost too good to be true; and I'm almost afraid to wake up and find out it really was just a dream."

Sanji is too kind to make fun of your fears; he considers them as he holds you close, equally aware that no matter how steadfast your feelings for each other are and even though both of you have rightfully earned admission in the schools of your dreams, you are both beginning a new chapter in life, and neither knows what future may have in store for you.

Still, it is pointless to worry about tomorrow, and Sanji decides that more than reassure you, he wants to make you forget your fears, even if just for a minute. "You know what I'm thinking about?" he asks after a minute, his tone pensive "That I've been here for at least thirty minutes, and I haven't kissed, or been kissed by, you, even once."

"Ah, that won't do."

"It really won't. So..."

He grins, happy to see you smile as well, and when he lifts your chin with his fingers you obediently close your eyes and offer him your mouth to kiss.

Almost three years have passed since your first time, in this very room, and kissing Sanji still makes your heart tremble; he is sweet but passionate, not aggressive but intense enough to leave no doubt about his feelings, and his intentions. You enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours for a moment before kissing him back, Sanji's lips hot against yours; you feel him smile, his hands now holding you by the waist while yours gently caress his hair and neck.

"Gods, you taste so good..."

"It's the cake, Sanji."

"No, it's not. You are delicious, (name); absolutely... mesmerizing..."

You keep kissing for a while, as your hands start moving on each other's body; Sanji whispers your name, suddenly breathless, as your mouth descends towards his neck, at first gently pecking at the delicate skin of his throat, and then sucking hard enough to make him moan.

"(name)..." he murmurs again, and you smile, circling his hips with your arms; you nuzzle at his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt so familiar and comforting against your skin, and wish you could stay like this forever.

You feel Sanji's hands move on your hips and back, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt.

"I like this one." he murmurs in your ear; he is aware of the effect he has on you and exploits it mercilessly "Is it new?"

"Made it myself." you answer proudly; you had seen the skirt on a fashion magazine, and rather than buying it you had decided to see whether you could recreate it "Does it look good on me?"

"You look absolutely ravishing, my darling..."

And ravish is exactly what Sanji seems intent on doing; a minute later your back is pressed against the wall, with a very handsome, very amorous young chef intent on making you forget your very name.

Sanji's back and shoulder muscles are taut under your hands as they run all over his body, like a beautiful clay statue molded by your touch; you can feel his heart pounding against your chest, the tenseness in his body as he tries to restrain himself in order not to unsettle you, not to take more than what you would be ready to offer. Dear Sanji, you think fondly as you arch your back to press your chest against his and finally, finally feel his hands grab at your buttocks, don't you know at this point you don't even have to ask?

Sanji's jacket is the first item of clothing to go, falling on the closest chair after you helped him take it off; he returns the courtesy freeing you from the heavy sweater you wear, leaving you with a tight camisole, the different colour of your bra visible under it. He smiles, clearly appreciating the view, but a moment later his expression turns serious, almost reverent, as he gazes at you, almost as if he couldn't believe he's really holding you in his arms.

"I love you so much, you know that?" he murmurs, and no matter how many times he has already uttered those words, you know how deeply he means them, how utterly and hopelessly devoted he is to you and to what you hope to build together. To be the object of such an intense ardor is... humbling, since you're not quite sure you deserve it, and you could even feel guilty for it, if your feelings for Sanji were not equally deep and strong. You don't remember a day in which you didn't love him, ever since he risked your father's ire (and, consequently, the job he had just gotten) to feed you, there has always been a special place for him in your heart, a place no one else could ever occupy; Sanji is the other half of you, someone who you don't need in order to live but who you want to share your life with. Without him you could go on; but you know you'll never feel complete ever again.

And to express everything you feel -all the love, the joy that fills your heart when he's by your side and the hopes you cherish for your future together- you are unable to say more than...

"I love you too, Sanji."

... and that is more than a little frustrating.

You know what you share goes beyond physical attraction, but you can't deny it is flattering, and exciting, to know you can have that sort of effect on Sanji, a man attractive and charming enough he would have no troubles attracting a date; you sometimes think about the girls he meets at work, or the clients he could easily flirt with when he has to cover for a waiter at the restaurant, but you know he is being sincere when he swears you're the only one he cares about, and that he has never betrayed your trust. On the other hand, you are not good with words and Sanji doesn't care for expensive gifts, which makes you fear, sometimes, you could do more to prove how much you care for him, and how committed you are to your relationship; the truth is, you love him so much, a feeling deeper and more encompassing than anything you thought you would be able to feel, that you lack the words to express it, and any declaration, no matter how grandiose or romantic, would fall short of your actual feelings.

Then, you suddenly realize, maybe you shouldn't tell him; after all, like your father always says, actions do speak louder than words...

Sanji's stares, eyes wide open, as he sees you take off your camisole. A moment later, he hurries to unbutton your shirt, and you move to help him, and somehow, maybe because you're in a hurry or because your hands are shaking, you tear off a button.

"Oh, Gods..." you stutter, embarrassment filling you "I'm so sorry, I... I'll sew it back on, I promise..."

Sanji shakes his head, as if to say you needn't worry; he is a sight to behold, short of breath, his usually pale complexion turned pink with excitement - with lust. He looks at you, he looks at your hands still holding the two panels of his shirt, and orders:

"Tear it off."

"... what?"

"Rip it off me. (name), please, I want you to undress me."

"Are... are you sure?" you ask again; the idea is more than a little exciting, but the experienced seamstress and future fashion designer in you hesitates at the thought of ruining a perfectly serviceable item of clothing.

Sanji grins, desire and affection filling his brown eyes. "Yeah, sure; it's an old one. Please, darling..."

"As you wish..."

A sound of tearing and ripping fills the room, and a moment later Sanji's shirt, now missing every single of its buttons and irreparably damaged, lies on the floor, while he's naked from the waist up - and Gods, just looking at him is enough to make you forget any hesitancy you may have... including the ones regarding the presence of your father, in his bedroom at the other hand of the corridor.

He smiles, more than aware of the effect he's having on you, as he shamelessly stares back at your body. "Come here, my beauty." he invites you, and a moment later he has taken you in his arms once again, your hands moving on each other's newly exposed skin.

"Let's move to the bed." you propose in a whisper between kisses, and laugh softly as Sanji hurriedly picks you up, bridal style, to carry you and delicately lay you down on the light blue sheets of your bed. A minute to take off your shoes, and he has joined you; you are kissing again as he makes quick work of your bra's clasp, but Sanji stops to admire you, lying under him, and for a moment he seems unable to speak.

"You are so beautiful." he murmurs; he looks you in the eyes, to gauge your reaction and make sure he's not overstepping, before letting his hand brush against and then close around your breast "My (name)... I've waited for this moment since I was maybe twelve, you know?"

"You could have told me before."

"A gentleman never asks, he waits for the lady to offer."

You smile, shamelessly enjoying the sensuality of his touch, the delicious sensation of Sanji's warm hands caressing and stimulating and gently squeezing the warm flesh of your chest; he sees you jolt when the pad of his thumb finds your nipple, and smiles, and you smile with him.

"Well, this lady is offering." you point out a moment later; you want there to be no doubt or ambiguity about what you want "I want you, Sanji. Will you make love to me?"

Unexpectedly, and while you can see the desire in his eyes as he looks at you, he hesitates. "You know we don't have to do it." he softly points out "You don't... owe me anything; I don't want you to think this is something we need to do in order to make our relationship last, or since we have been together for a while..."

"I know. I... I just want to live this with you; I want you to be my first, as well the last. I want you, and I'm tired of hiding it."

"(name), I..."

"Sanji, please."

That last word, as well as the tone you utter it in, being begged to take you in his arms and make you scream, would make even the most dispassionate man forget himself, and Sanji is far from that. In a whisper, he asks you to lift your hips, and takes both your skirt and panties off; he licks his lips as he looks at you, as if anticipating what he is going to do to you, and delicately lifts your foot in his hands. His first kiss is placed on your ankle, and then the second at the bottom at your calf, and the third a bit above it, and then on your knee and on your thigh until Sanji is lying on the bed between your open legs, and the sensation of his tongue and hips doing magic on the most hidden part of you is so delicious, so lurid and at the same time heavenly, you have to press your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from screaming. You can feel the wave mounting inside you, and you couldn't stop it even if you wanted to, and a minute later your first real orgasm hits you, and you are shaking in Sanji's grasp as he licks you like a man starved, proud and excited by the pleasure he was able to give you.

Your eyes meet above your heaving chest; you are both smiling, breathless. "That was... amazing." you whisper, and Sanji grins as he reaches to kiss you once more, neither bothering about the taste.

"We have just started." he assures you "Will you help me with my clothes, darling?"

He stands from the bed to let you take his trousers off, smiling softly as he sees how your hands shake; a moment later he's finally naked, and you can't help gulping as you gently take his erection in your hand, heavy and hard. You swallow, and instinctively lower your face to it to lick the tip.

Sanji jumps. "Shit..."

"I'm sorry, I thought... that was ok..." you stammer, suddenly alarmed "Did I hurt you?"

"Hurt?" he repeats, completely breathless, as if he had never heard that word before "Quite... quite the opposite. I... (name), I..."

He can't find the words to describe what he wants, but thank God you know it already, and this is miles beyond what you had already experience in, but you must be naturally talented, or perhaps this is one of those things you simply know how to do. You keep Sanji's eyes in yours as you take his erection in your mouth, swallowing it almost to the base and using your lips, your tongue and even (cautiously) your teeth to give him pleasure; he moans, bucking his hips, his hands caressing your hair.

"God... you're so good, baby... you take me so well..."

Emboldened, you wish you could make him climax with your mouth, but Sanji asks you to stop after a while, smiling as he sees you pout. "As much as I love the feeling of your mouth, there is somewhere else I'd rather come." he tell you as he cleans your lips with his fingers "Let me take care of you."

A silent nod is the only answer you feel able to give, and the only one Sanji needed; your hand guides him back on the bed where, a slight and natural awkwardness covered by your kisses, Sanji lies above you, gently caressing your hair as he lifts your leg above his hips.

"I love you." you murmur; you feel barely able to breathe, but those words easily leave your lips, as natural as a breath "Sanji, let me be with you forever."

He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours; he isn't inside you yet, but the intimacy of that moment goes beyond what you could describe in words, the marvelous feeling of being one, a closeness born from love and passion and trust and empathy. You doubt you will ever feel anyone as close as Sanji is in that moment, and that makes you happy.

"Nothing and no one will ever come between us." he murmurs "I promise."

*****

You spend what feels like hours locked in an embrace, exchanging lazy but hot kisses as your hands explore each other's body. Your fondling makes Sanji grow turgid once more, and he has to use your pillow to suffocate his screaming (yes, screaming) as you do get to make him come in your mouth; he gets even a minute later when you both find out that you really enjoy your chest being sucked, which Sanji does until you are a moaning mess, begging for mercy, and he has to gift you your third orgasm, this time using his fingers, to make you calm down.

This night is perfect; this night feels as if it would never end. Unfortunately, this is not the case, and an hour before dawn, after he risked for the second time to fall asleep with his cheek pressed against your chest and your fingers in his hair, Sanji reluctantly abandons the warmth of your bed, and of your body, to get dressed. You both know it can't be helped; if your father discovered him in your bed, even now that you are an adult and about to go live on your own, the consequences would be catastrophic.

"Things will be different once we have moved to the capital." you reassure him as you pick up what is left of his shirt to throw it away "I want my dad to visit, but we can tell him we met again on campus and decided to date; he does like you, and he'll accept I am old enough to have a boyfriend."

"I hope he will." Sanji considers, as he ties his shoes; he hesitates for a moment, and then: "What if I wanted to tell him the truth?"

"You mean...?"

"About us, yes. I could have never given up on you, (name), but I didn't like lying to your father; I owe him so much, and I'd like give his blessing to our relationship. Don't you?"

Nothing would make you happier, even though, you must admit, the prospect of having to confess you have deliberately disobeyed him for five years is not pleasant; you love your father, and the last thing you have ever wanted was to disappoint him, even though there is no price you wouldn't have paid if it meant being with Sanji. You admire the fact your boyfriend wants to be honest with his benefactor, and you need - no, you want to be as brave as he is.

"Then we will tell him."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. It's not going to be pretty, and I know he'll be very angry, but he deserves the truth. We all do." you point out with a sigh; then, seeing Sanji is almost done getting dressed: "Wait..."

You stand as well, and walk to the mannequin wearing the men's shirt, an elegant light blue model with white collar and cuffs. You return to Sanji to offer him the shirt. "Here, wear this."

"... are you sure?"

"Of course, I had planned to give it to you to celebrate your admission to the Baratie. Try it on, let me see how it looks on you."

It looks great, even though it is perhaps more because of Sanji's good looks and physique than anything else; he carefully buttons it, and happily looks at himself in the full-length mirror. "My favourite tie will go perfectly with this."

"I know, why do you think I chose this colour?"

Naked as you are, you don't feel cold, especially as you feel Sanji's gaze lingering on your body as his brown eyes admire the flesh he has lost himself in just two hours ago, but that he's not yet sated by.

Soon, your smile tells him as you return the gaze, committing the beauty of his lithe but strong body to memory, as soon as we have moved to our dormitories, or as soon as my father has to leave for one of his work trips. I want you again too; I think I'll never stop wanting you.

As usual Sanji seems to understand you without the need for words, because he smiles once more and, as soon as he is done admiring himself in the mirror (which you cannot blame him for; the shirt does look amazing on him!) he takes your face in his hands to kiss you once more. "I am so happy." he murmurs "Happy we got to share this moment. I... I do want to be with you forever, but..."

"... but you are happy I was your first, and you mine. I know, Sanji; I feel the same."

You spend a precious minute like this, your foreheads touching, your fingers intertwined, as you breathe in each other's air and savour that new form of intimacy. In this moment, you are not afraid Sanji can doubt your feelings anymore; but in any case, you promise yourself, you'll still make sure he knows how much you love him, every day from now to eternity.

In the end, it's time for your boyfriend to go. He takes his backpack and insists you put your nightgown on, in case one of the neighbours looks out of their windows, before you accompany him on the balcony, where a last kiss sees him climb over the parapet and cautiously reach the tree's closest branches.

"Thanks for the cake! It was really delicious."

Sanji winks at you, mischievousness dancing in his eyes. "I think you thanked me enough already."

"Oh, you are so vulgar..."

Your laugh follows him as Sanji quickly climbs down the tree, finally reaching the ground safe and sound; he looks up at you and waves, and you wave back, and "I'll be back soon; I promise." he says, and you nod as he starts walking away, and remain where you are until Sanji has disappeared, hidden in the murmuring darkness surrounding the villa.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Thirteen**

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Series Master List

As The Poll clearly showed, sweet Frankie was the one most of you wanted to see return for a second part! So, here he is, continuing off pretty much straight off from where we left them two weeks ago.

I'm hoping this isn't the last time I write in this universe, if my inspiration stays with me I'll give a couple of the Pedro boys a second part to their stories. It's been a great challenge doing this and I've learnt so much writing their different voices. And as an added bonus, I've discovered a few new favourite characters and I hope you have too!

Love you all!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, this part contains smut, like, real, wrap your dick in a condom and blush, kinda smut. So, you know, NSFW...

He practically pulls you out of the car as soon as it stops, the tote bag almost forgotten on the seat behind you. You nudge him backwards, up the short garden path, towards the front door, while his hands hold tight to your waist, his lips never leaving yours. Only the familiarity of the path stops you from tripping and pulling him down with you. With a giggle you stop him just before he stumbles into the porch steps and you start digging in the bag for the keys. Frankie’s arms wrap tighter and with a few swift steps, he’s lifted you up the stairs and put you down in front of the door. 

“I’m impatient,” he chuckles as you squeal in surprise, almost dropping the keys. He crowds behind you as you struggle to get them in the lock, his nose brushing against your neck, small, wet kisses trailing up behind your ear. With a frustrated shove you push the door open and you both tumble in, Frankie keeping you from falling with his steady grip. 

Kicking off your shoes, Frankie copies you, you’re pulling him with you into the small house, leading to the bedroom. There’s no hesitation about where this is going, what you both want, you take his hand and he follows eagerly. Dropping the tote on the floor by the bed, you pull him down, or maybe he pushes you, you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s above you, sinking down on his forearms, his hands cupping the back of your head as you reach up to meet his mouth again. Your eyes slip closed as his solid body weighs you down. 

The weight of him, the heft of his hard on pressed against your thigh, his long body stretched out over yours, it makes you feel needed, as much as you need him. When you tug at his t-shirt he lifts up only briefly, sliding a hand under your top too, pulling it off as you pull off his. Then he’s back, pressed against you as he leaves your mouth to find the thin skin over your collarbone, pushing down the strap of your bra and moving further down, removing it, tossing it. You wrap your fingers around his curls as he takes your breast in his mouth, teasing with teeth and tongue. It makes you whimper, his hand cupping your other breast as he circles the nipple. When he rolls his hips into your core, you gasp and he glances up at you, his eyes almost black as he gives you a crooked grin and does it again. 

“Frankie…” you mumble, “feels so good…” a sigh rolls through you when his scruffy beard tickles your sternum, his hands busy undoing the buttons of your jeans now. 

“Can I take it all off?” he asks, his hands already slipping inside, grabbing your hips, his fingers teasing over the edge of your underwear. 

“Only if you take yours off too,” you smile, tilting your head so that you can watch his tan shoulders work as he shifts your jeans down your legs. 

“That was the plan, cariño,” he grins, his lips leaving a warm mark just below your belly button before he pulls the rest of your clothes off, leaving you bare  on the bed. He sits back on his heels, hands trailing over your skin as he follows your soft curves and the way they move under his hand. His eyes are warm, soft and tender as he looks up at you again. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he lifts your ankle to his shoulder so that he can kiss the soft inside of your calf muscle, “I want to make you feel so good.” 

“You’re still wearing too many clothes, Frankie,” you smile, poking his thigh with your other foot, letting your toes graze over the prominent bulge just under his soft little belly. The touch makes him inhale, his jaw clenching as his eyes briefly slip close. Even through the denim you can feel his cock twitch as you gently caress the area, Frankie’s grip on your ankle tightens with each pass. When you pull your foot away he looks up again and begins unbuttoning his jeans. 

“You’ve made these very uncomfortable,” he grumbles and it makes you giggle, his mock stern face as he pushes off the bed and pulls off his pants. He hisses as the elastic of the boxers scrapes over his thick length, freeing it from the cotton, and you sit up on the bed, reaching for it as Frankie watches. The head is weeping already and you swipe your thumb through the viscous liquid, smearing across the silky soft skin. The moan your action pulls from Frankie makes heat shoot through your body, pooling in your core and makes you caress the head again, gathering another fat drop from the slit. Your hand slides with ease down his shaft, aided by the slick, as you twist your wrist a little. Frankie lets out a long, strained breath through his nose and you glance up at him, his eyes are fixed on your hand around his aching, hard cock. You manage to stroke your hand up and then down a few more times before he grunts and grabs your wrist. 

“You’d better stop, or I’ll make a very bad impression,” he says, gently pulling your hand away from his hard on, and pushing you back up the bed again. He disappears beneath the edge of the bed for a moment, and comes back up with the piping bag, still filled with manjar. His smile is mischievous as he holds it up over you. 

“I’m gonna work on my piping skills,” he says and you roll your eyes as you laugh. 

“What a line, Frankie,” you snort and he chuckles. 

“I thought it was pretty good,” he grins, holding the bag over your breast and creating a small swirl around your nipple before he moves to the next one, repeating the move. 

“Very nice,” you smile, looking down at his creation and Frankie moves further down. 

“Not done yet,” he replies, carefully piping around your belly button, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out as he concentrates. 

“You’re taking this very seriously,” you giggle when he straightens up and shows off his work with a wave of his hand. A small manjar heart is circling your belly button, along with the two swirls on your nipples. 

“I’m very serious about my piping work,” he grins, “and very serious about removing it too.” He pushes himself up far enough to sink down over your breast, lapping lightly at the manjar, teasing your nipple with small kisses as he licks at the sticky golden mess he’s created. He swipes his fingers through the manjar on your other breast and holds it up to you to taste and you take your time swirling your tongue around him, sucking him clean. Frankie’s eyes darken as he watches your mouth work around his fingers, and when you let them go, he scoops up some more and offers them to you again. 

“I’d like to practice my piping skills on you too, Frankie,” you say, letting his fingers slip from your mouth again. 

“Any particular area you want to practice on,” he asks, raising an eyebrow while you smile at him, taking the piping bag from his hand. 

“I can safely say I’ve never put manjar on a dick before,” you reply, “So I think I’ll start there.” 

Frankie gives you an impish grin and rolls over on his back, his thick cock bumping back against his small belly, the happy trail of dark hair smeared with another drop of his precum. 

“I can safely say I’ve never had manjar on my dick before,” he says, leaning back on his elbows as you settle next to his hips. You can see his cock twitch as you move closer with the bag, he’s acting playful, but you can tell his excitement is growing as you move closer. Out of the corner of your eye you see his fingers gripping tight on the sheets underneath him. 

“Any special requests?” you ask, getting the bag ready, “Maybe you want some writing? I do very nice birthday messages, you know.” 

Frankie chuckles at that, “How about a helicopter, I always thought about getting a helicopter tattoo.” 

Your eyes widen as you almost drop the bag, “Not on your dick, Frankie?” 

“Fuck, no!” he laughs, “Imagine how much that would hurt!” 

“I was gonna say…” you giggle, getting ready to decorate him, “but I can promise this will be a pain free helicopter on your dick.” 

The manjar and the surface isn’t exactly the easiest to work with, but somehow you manage to pipe something resembling a helicopter on Frankie’s twitching cock while he chuckles between little hisses of pleasure. 

“Wait, don’t do the blades,” he suddenly says, stopping your movement and you look up at him, “I don’t need them….” he suddenly snorts, his eyes crinkling together as he loses control over the laughter bubbling out, “I can just do them myself by windmilling. You get it? Windmilling!” 

You groan at his joke as Frankie’s shoulders shake with laughter, but it’s too infectious, you can’t help laughing too, and you lightly slap his thigh. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking joke I’ve ever heard,” you snort and Frankie chuckles. 

“It’s genius,” he says, pulling you up towards him so that he can kiss you, “I love that you laugh at my stupid jokes.” 

“Very stupid jokes,” you reply, tasting the manjar on both your lips, “I’m not done piping yet though, still plenty of space left on that big dick of yours.” 

“I know,” Frankie grins, looking very smug as you sit back down, gently moving his dick so that you can reach the other side. 

The manjar smears on his happy trail and you dip down, dragging the tip of your tongue across his belly, tasting the sticky, sweet mess. Frankie’s breath hitches in his throat when your cheek brushes against the head of his cock, but you don’t give it any more attention. Instead you start piping a scallop pattern down the length, trailing it down to his heavy balls nestling in the short dark curls. 

“Very pretty,” he mutters, his jaw tight as you lift your hand and admire your work. 

“Thanks,” you smile sweetly back at him, “classic piping pattern, I use it on many cakes, you like it?” 

“Very much,” Frankie grits, “but probably for different reasons.” The bed sheets are creaking under his grip.

The piping bag is almost empty, so you drop it on the floor next to the bed and bend down, licking lightly over the tip of Frankie’s weeping head, the salty musk mixing with the manjar in a strange, but not wholly unpleasant flavor. 

“Fuck…” you hear Frankie groan from the head of the bed, his hand gently landing on your head, his fingers gripping softly. As you continue to lave attention on his sticky cock he pants heavily, alternating between looking down at the way your tongue circles his swollen head, to dropping back against the pillow with a low groan. When your mouth closes around his cock and you sink down, making the head bump against the back of your throat, you feel his fingers tighten their grip, his breathing is suddenly labored. Humming lightly, you hollow out your cheeks and suck slowly up his whole length, each whimper you pull from him going straight to your own core. He sounds wasted, lost to his own pleasure, as you thoroughly clean his cock from every last trace of manjar. Frankie pants, groans and moans low words in Spanish, his hips bucking underneath you when you hit an extra sensitive spot, until he can’t take it any more. With a growl he gently pushes you away. 

“Please, wait, I’m…” he pants, “I’m too close, I don’t wanna come yet.” 

You sit up, giving a final small kiss to the top of the slick head and Frankie pulls you up towards him, a hand behind your neck guiding your mouth to his. 

“My turn,” he grumbles, pushing you on to your back. You’ve still got manjar around your belly button and Frankie grabs your waist, sucking a mark into your skin as he licks it off and then moves himself over you. He holds him up over you on one arm as you pull him down, seeking out his soft lips and taking his plush bottom lip, nipping gently. Frankie groans and licks into your mouth, settling more of his weight over you and letting his free hand slide between your bodies. He nudges your legs apart, kneading the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh before he moves his hand up. It makes you shiver, a small tremble shooting through your body, when he runs his finger tips along the seam of your sex. Gently he gathers the slick already leaking out, and he can’t keep his eyes away, he stares transfixed at the way his fingers soon are coated, slipping between your folds. You part your legs, giving him more room, and he lets a finger slip in, glancing up to watch your face as you moan at the slight stretch. 

“More, Frankie, please…” you whimper, pulling him closer, claiming his lips again, and he obeys. You feel him pull out, only to push back in, adding a second finger and it makes you moan again. 

“You’re so tight, cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, slowly pumping his fingers in and out as his thumb begins to circle your clit, “So tight and so wet, you feel so good.” 

You wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, your hips bucking up against his hand, seeking more friction, and you hear him chuckle, but his own hips are pushed against your thigh, rocking back and forth, his hard cock pressed between you and you hear the strain in his voice, his heavy panting. 

His thumb is driving all thought from your brain, his fingers curling back and you feel heat building, an almost painful tightening of your muscles, your body arching up against Frankie’s heavy body. He buries his face against your neck, his teeth scraping over the thin skin. 

“C’mon, give it to me, let me feel you, cariño,” he pants and your fingers dig into his meaty shoulders as your climax hits. Air rushes out of your lungs as you moan his name, and he continues to move his fingers through the silken liquid dripping from your core, working you through it as your muscles relax. 

Your throat is raw as you turn your head to find his lips again, he licks into your mouth fervently and you pull him closer, tugging his heavy body over you. 

“Please, Frankie,” you mumble, spreading your legs so that his narrow hips slot in between your thighs, a hiss escaping him as his aching cock slides over your wet heat. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispers, lips still close to yours. 

“I’ve got some in the bathroom,” you say, wriggling out from underneath him, your body feeling cold without his heat, “let me get them.” 

You’re soon back with the box, handing it to Frankie and crawling back in bed. He pulls one out and hands it to you. 

“Put it on me, your hands looked so good around my cock,” he smiles and you open the packet, his words sending a fresh wave of heat to your core. 

“I hope they’re big enough,” you say, wrapping your hand around his heavy length, making it twitch as Frankie inhales, “you’re a pretty big boy.” 

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, leaning forward so that his mouth is close to your ear. He’s looking down at the way your fingers slide the condom over him, each stroke making more blood rush down to fill it. He can’t help bucking his hips as you give it a final stroke. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down over you as you fall back down on the bed. Holding himself up on his elbow, he lines up, sliding the tip through your folds, gathering the slick liquid and coating himself. You whimper as he rubs against your sensitive clit, and again, as he slowly pushes in, a low groan from Frankie when you tighten around him. 

“So good,” he mumbles, “so, so good….” With another groan he drops down, wrapping his arm behind your shoulders, sliding in deeper, you feel the stretch of him, his hips flush against yours. As Frankie begins to move, long, slow strokes, gritting his teeth, you pull him down closer, taking that plush lower lip into your mouth, tasting him, feeling his hot breath pant over your skin. 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you feel for where you’re joined, circling his cock with your hand and feeling it move in and out, each pass making your nerves sing. Frankie whimpers as you tighten your hand around his cock, his hips speeding up their rhythm. 

“Please, baby, touch yourself, I wanna feel you come while I’m inside,” he pants, “can you give me another?” He pushes himself up, looking down at you while he rocks his hips into you, and you nod, heat building rapidly with the way his dark eyes are locked on you, “You feel so good, so tight and wet for me, cariño, I can feel you squeeze me so nice, fuck, you feel good…” he mumbles, groaning as he drops down and kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You move your hand, fingers finding your slippery clit, Frankie’s soft belly rubbing over your hand as you start to circle the small bundle of nerves. His belly is pushing your hand down over your clit, making you gasp into his mouth and Frankie growls, picking up speed again, panting hard, his hand around your shoulders digging into your flesh. 

It hits you like a wave, every muscle in your body locking, clamping down around him as you cry out. Frankie stutters, loses his rhythm, and groans, trying to move his aching cock through the hot vice you’ve created for him, he tries to make it last, tries to work through it, but with a shout he comes, grinding into your hips. 

He tries to hold himself up, to not crush you, but your arms pull him down, burying your face against his neck. You can feel his pulse thrumming under the heated skin, his heart beating hard as he pants into your hair. It takes you both a while to find your way back, Frankie moves first, gripping the condom and pulling out, discarding it. He rolls over on his back and pulls you with him, sweat and manjar sliding over your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your mouth, smiling into you as you wrap your arm around his waist and close your eyes. 

You didn’t really mean for him to spend the night, but then you ordered pizza instead of the dinner you were meant to have together. And it was so easy for him to just pull on his jeans and go to your front door and pay the delivery guy and then bring the pizza back to bed. Once the pizza was gone you were both sleepy, and you’d leaned your head on his chest while he caressed your arm. At some point during the night he’d leaned over and whispered that he was going to leave, but you’d grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, muttering that it was too late. And he wasn’t hard to convince, he’d pulled his jeans back off and wrapped his arms around your waist as he pulled you closer. Frankie felt like a warm blanket around you all night, only your bladder forcing you away from him as the birds outside started to sing. 

You crawl back in bed as Frankie stirs, his long arms coming out to find you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay,” he mumbles and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “I didn’t wanna assume I could.” 

“I wanted you to stay, Frankie”, you mumble back, wrapping your fingers around the curls at the nape of his neck, unruly and wild after last night's activities. 

“I wanted to stay too,” he replies, and you feel his tongue slip out to taste the skin over your collarbone, “You still taste of manjar,” he chuckles, “and I’m all sticky.” 

“I have a really nice shower,” you stretch your arms above your head and yawn, you can feel your own sticky skin on several parts of your body, and you know it’s not all manjar, “Wanna join me?” 

Frankie pushes himself up so that he’s above you, sleepy dark eyes smiling down at you. 

“I would love to join you,” he grins, “but I can’t guarantee that’ll be a short shower.” His suggestion makes a little shiver run down your spine at the memory of what his talented fingers had done last night.  

“Good,” you say, matching his grin and pushing him back with your hands on his wide shoulders, suddenly very eager to get him into the shower with you, “I’m counting on it. I’ll get you a clean towel.” 

“And maybe a toothbrush if you have a spare one?” he asks, shrugging apologetically, “morning breath.”

You lead him to the bathroom and dig out a towel while he runs the shower, making the water run nice and hot before he pulls you in with you. The room fills with steam and the scent of grapefruit while he runs his hands over your soapy skin. His wet curls fall into his eyes and you push them back, creating waves in his hair as he closes his eyes and hums as your nails scratch his scalp. 

In the end he has you pressed up against the cool tiles, your hot skin burning under his fingertips and lips. Small whimpers echoing through the space while his tongue laps at your sensitive folds. As he stands up and slides in, your leg hooked around his hip, his groans drown out your moans under the sound of the rushing water. 

You wrap him in the towel when the water starts to run cool and he lets you tuck him in like a burrito while he smiles at the way your fingers tickle at his waist. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pushing your fingers through his wild curls again. 

“Starving,” he replies, “I think we used up a lot of energy last night.” 

“I thought you replaced it with all that manjar,” you laugh, drying yourself off as Frankie sinks down on the seat of the toilet. 

“Sugar high, that rush is gone now,” he chuckles, “next time maybe we use some whipped cream instead.” 

“Next time?” you ask, with raised eyebrows, and he could pretend to be awkward and embarrassed about assuming that there’d be a next time. But he just reaches out and takes hold of your hand with a smile, pulling you close so that he can wrap his arms around your waist and lean his chin on your torso as he looks up at you. 

“Call me crazy,” he smiles, “But I think we definitely have a next time coming up.”  

You can’t help but think how good he looks with that confident smile on his face as you bend down and kiss him. 

“We might both be crazy, but I think you’re right.” 

Frankie gives his discarded t-shirt a sniff before he opts to wear only his jeans as he follows you into the kitchen of the house in search of breakfast. 

“What do bakers eat for breakfast?” he asks as you pull out two mugs and the coffee. 

“Whatever is leftover from the bakery,” you say, pointing to a couple of stale croissants on the counter, “if we want anything fresh, we need to go to the bakery.”

Frankie scrunches up his eyebrows for a minute before he walks across the kitchen, “Can I raid your fridge?” he asks, stopping with his hand on the door handle. 

“Sure, you’re welcome to whatever, I think I’ve got jam and we can toast the croissants. Should be some eggs in there too.” 

Frankie bends his tall frame in half and peers into the fridge, “I’m assuming you’ve got stuff like flour, baking powder, sugar and stuff at home?” he asks, glancing over at you. 

“Yeah, sure, but you don’t have to make something, Frankie,” you protest, hitting the on button on the coffee machine. 

“I know, but you make things all day, let me make you something proper for breakfast,” he’s smiling as he stands up straight again with milk, butter and the eggs in his hands. He puts it down on the counter and wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, before he smiles down at you, “Go sit down, cariño, let me feed you for a change.” 

You gladly obey, settling on one of the stools as Frankie rummages in your kitchen. Pretty soon he’s got a mug of coffee in front of you and pancake batter on the go. The smell of frying butter fills the kitchen as Frankie hums to the radio that you’ve switched. It’s homey and cozy and you sip your coffee, watching Frankie’s broad back from behind as he begins to fry the pancakes. 

He even sets the table, shooing you away as you try to help, and you have to laugh at the way he’s taken over your kitchen, flipping each pancake before he slides onto the plates. He grabs the jam and somehow finds some chopped hazelnuts in a cupboard, sprinkling them over the stacks with a flourish before he drizzles the whole thing with maple syrup from a bottle you’d even forgotten you had. 

“Breakfast is served, mi hermosa,” he says, spinning the plate three quarter way as he sets it down on the counter in front of you. 

“I’m so impressed, Frankie,” you say as he sits down on the stool next to you with his own plate. 

“Taste them before you say anything,” he replies with a chuckle, “I’m nervous about a pro tasting my pancake.” 

“Hardly a pancake pro,” you smile, cutting into your stack and taking a bite. And of course it’s delicious, you didn’t expect anything else from Frankie. He’s proven how dedicated he is to getting things just right, if nothing else, last night had certainly shown you how much attention he pays to details. 

“They’re amazing, Frankie, and you know it,” you giggle, his expression is gleeful as he sees your smile. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he fakes a look of modesty, “These things I just whipped up, how could they possibly match anything you make?” 

“Is this your grandma’s influence again?” you ask, giving him a light shove as Frankie looks very pleased with himself. 

“Yeah, I always bugged her for pancakes when I was staying with her but American style pancakes wasn’t something she usually made. So she watched Martha Stewart and got a recipe and made them for my birthday,” Frankie cuts a piece for himself, nodding to himself as he chews and swallows, “Yeah, I’m happy with those.” 

“She sounds like a great grandma, and a great baker,” you say and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, she was great, and she would’ve loved you. And be so impressed by your bakery,” he smiles over at you, “You’d have to tell her, in detail, about everything you bake.” 

Frankie looks down at his pancakes again and frowns, a small sigh escaping him. 

“She passed while I was still in the army, I was away on a mission with total radio silence. By the time I was stateside again, she’d already been buried.” 

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” you say, giving his arm a small squeeze, “that must’ve been difficult.” 

“Yeah, it was hard,” he nods, cutting another bite of the pancakes, “but if you don’t mind, can we change the subject? I want to tell you more some other day, but I don’t want to spoil the mood now.” 

“Sure, of course, Frankie, whenever you're ready,” you say, picking up your coffee mug and giving him a small kiss on his scruffy cheek, “More coffee?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

The morning slips away from you in the easy company of Frankie. He insists on cleaning up after breakfast but you don’t let him. Instead you pull him with you to the couch in the living room, the morning sunshine warming the space, making you both lazy and sleepy as you stretch out. Frankie lets his fingertips trace up and down your thigh, drawing small patterns that reach higher and higher under your t-shirt, while you cup his cheek and pull him down to your lips. His large warm palm fits itself around your waist, and then your breast, a leg hooked over your hip as if to anchor you to him. As he buries his head in the crook of your neck, you hum with pleasure, you feel his warm breath slow down as his hands still their movements. You run your fingers through his soft curls until your eyes drift close and you fall asleep too. 

It’s the insistent vibrations from your phone on the kitchen counter that pull you out of your slumber. Frankie yawns and stirs next to you, his face still pressed to your neck. 

“Fuck, what time is it?” you mutter, rubbing your hand over your face to chase away the tendrils of heavy sleep that hangs to your mind. 

“Dunno…” Frankie mumbles, pushing off you a little so that you can stand up and stagger to the kitchen, you feel his hand trying to hold on to you as you leave. 

“Oh fuck, no, I overslept,” you groan, it’s past ten, the bakery should already be open and you should’ve been there an hour ago. There’s four missed calls on your phone from your weekend shop assistant. While you return the call Frankie comes over, yawning wide again. 

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep, I forgot you work on weekends too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your high schooler picks up. 

“Hey, it’s me, I’m sorry, I overslept! I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“No problem, I’ve got it, shop’s open, I’ve stocked the display and the coffee machine is on,” they reply as you hear the familiar jingle of the front door bell. 

“You’re an angel, thank you so much!” you say, “I know you’ve got it under control.” 

“No stress, don’t crash on the way here, see you soon.” 

They hang up and you follow Frankie back to the bedroom where he’s pulled on his t-shirt. 

“Sorry, I’ve got to run,” you say and he smiles down at you. 

“Don’t worry about it, just give me a lift to the bakery, my truck’s there.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, quickly pulling out jeans and a clean t-shirt. Frankie sinks down on the bed and pulls on his socks as he watches you. 

“I know we didn’t exactly get that dinner I promised, but maybe we can try again?” he asks as you rush around collecting what you need. He reaches out and grabs your hand as you hurry past, making you stop as he pulls you into his arms when he stands up, “Rain check for me?” 

“Any day, Frankie,” you smile and he gives you a quick kiss in return, “Let’s get going before the shop gets really swamped.” 

You throw a critical eye over the kitchen, it’s not your own, and you can’t get the temperature just right. The oven is just too close to the work bench. Bending down with the small tool in your hand you gently move the delicate flower ever so slightly to the right, frowning as you squint at the surface of the decoration. 

“Excuse me, could we maybe move the cake to that bench instead? The heat from the oven is going to make the sugar crystals melt.” You point to an empty counter next to the door and the man nods, grabbing one of the other assistant bakers and carefully, under your watchful supervision, moves the cake. 

“Thank you, that’s much better,” you say, picking up one of the small paint brushes, you just need to go over the anchor points one more time and make sure that the cake layers still are lined up and straight, maybe just check the fresh flowers at the top one more time in case any of them has started to wilt and then- 

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here,” Frankie’s familiar voice says behind you, a note of exasperation to his tone as he wraps his arm around your waist, “Put down that paint brush immediately.” 

“I just needed to check that it arrived in one piece,” you protest, as Frankie takes the brush from your hand and pulls you back from the cake. 

“You already did that, an hour ago,” he says, making you turn towards him, “And it is still all in one piece, cariño. Now, you need to get back to the party and dance with your husband.” 

He takes your right hand in his, his other arm still around your waist, and spins you around the center of the kitchen, guiding you towards the door with a few smooth dance steps that make you laugh. 

“If she comes back in here tonight, throw her out please, she’s not allowed,” Frankie calls to the caterers who grin and give him a thumbs up. Before you can protest, he’s got you out through the kitchen double doors and into the corridor that leads back outside. 

“Sneaking away like that, such a bad wife,” he says with a small grin, “What am I going to do with you?” 

You tuck your arm around his waist, his back warm from the sunshine outside and you can feel his body heat radiate through the nice dress shirt he’s wearing, suit jacket discarded somewhere along with his tie. 

“Lock me in the kitchen?” you suggest as you walk back out into the garden of the house that has been rented for the occasion. There’s music playing through the trees and you can see people dancing under the shade of the boughs. 

“I know that’s not a punishment for you, nice try,” Frankie smiles as he leads you to the dance floor and takes you in his arms again. 

The people around you make space for you as he moves you around in a gentle dance under the slowly darkening sky, fairy lights twinkling between the branches. You let go of his hand and wrap your arms around his neck instead, your hands finding the soft curls at the back of his head, so much longer now than when you first met. He hums a little when you twine them around your fingers and find his lips with your own, pressing a warm kiss to his smiling mouth. 

“I have to put it in a ponytail soon, if you won’t let me cut it,” he chuckles, the cool tip of his nose bumping against your cheek. 

“Let it get a little bit longer and I can give you a nice French braid,” you smile back at him, “You can borrow one of my hair clips.” 

Frankie snorts into your neck as you giggle, spinning you around again. 

“Get me one of those hot pink ones with sparkles,” he says, finding your lips again, muffling the laughter that bubbles from you at the thought. 

“So when do we get to eat this cake you’ve worked so hard on?” Frankie asks after a few minutes, the sounds of the music and the chatter slowly coming back to you, “I know you’ve been planning it for two years.” 

“Maybe now? I think we’ve let everyone dance long enough,” you say, “Let me just go and check on it first and-” you start to move away but Frankie quickly tightens his arms around your waist. 

“Oh no, no, Mrs Morales, you’re staying right here,” he laughs, looking over your shoulder for the gray head of Mrs Levinson, easy to spot in her shimmering gold dress and bright red lipstick. Catching her eye he nods towards the kitchen and she gives him a quick thumbs up and turns to the nearest waiter. 

“She’s on it,” Frankie says to you, taking your hand and leading you towards the self service bar by the edge of the dance floor, picking up two flutes of champagne and giving you one, “And the cake will be delicious, and look perfect, stop worrying about it.” 

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” you say, shaking your head as you accept the glass, “I’ve made over a hundred wedding cakes, this one shouldn’t be any different.” 

“But it is, cariño,” Frankie says, taking your hand and leading you towards the cake that’s being rolled into the center of the dance floor, “because this is our wedding cake.” 

Part Fourteen