#How to make espresso on the stove

[simmeringstarfruit]

Moka Pot Espresso with Crema

Homemade easy espresso using a moka pot! How to use a moka pot at home to make wonderful espresso-style coffee, topped with the crema. Drink your espresso as is, or use it for a wide variety of homemade coffee drinks, hot or cold. Including instructions for how to use a moka pot, clean your moka pot, and how to recreate amazing coffee crema topping. No espresso machine required! Inspired by the…

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun. 

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights. 

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it to his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers; your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you. 

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs. 

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

��Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I��m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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[luxtrys]

a hundred and ten percent ready.

your first time with anakin skywalker (18+, smut noshy. innocent!reader, cocky asf ani (a warning in itself) size kink. )

you couldn't hear the dramatically aggressive slam of the door to yours and anakin's apartment over the soft music flowing out of your record player. you hummed to the tune, swiping your hand through the chocolate you had used all your muscles to chop into the pot of boiling heavy cream.

anakin watched lovestruck, leaning his head on the kitchen door frame as you let out an excited squeal to yourself while mixing the steaming pot of hot chocolate on the stove. ani was confused the first time you had brought up hot chocolate to him, on the first conversation you ever had might i add. the way you talked about it with so much care and love he thought it was a childhood pet your parents just let you name. you added in the espresso powder and vanilla essence before stirring it with the heart spatula ani had gave you on a random sunday.

once you noticed a few to many bubbles rising to the surface of your beautiful creation, you quickly bent down to be eye level with the stove. as you slowly changed the size of the flame under your pot, you felt a strong arm snake around your waist, pulling your ass into the persons crotch. squealing, you straighten your back instantly as the familiar smell of smoke, sandalwood and cologne enters your nose. "what'chu makin baby?" anakin rasped, bending down to rest his head on your shoulder.

you looked up at him, mustering up the most annoyed face you could. he knew what you were making, you made hot chocolate at-least twice a week without failure. "oo baby don't look at me like that, gonna make me cry" he smirks, leaning down and catching your lips in a heated kiss. you indulge for a few seconds before pulling back, moving your attention back to the pot on the stove "i added espresso powder this time ani! i read it on that blog i like, it said it really brings out the chocolate flavour and i'm so excited to try" he scoffed at how quickly you just ignored the make out session you had just, rubbing your stomach with his hand and shaking his head.

it was only a few minutes before ani was pouring the steaming chocolate liquid into the matching mugs you made him for valentines day, your names etched on each and bunnies and hearts decorating the white cups. anakin always did that job, banning you from it after you accidentally poured the hot chocolate all over your hand and he had to sit in the ice cold shower with you to calm the burning for over four hours, holding you close to his bare chest as you sobbed.

you sat down on the kitchen stools, tapping your acrylic nails onto the marble surface in excitement. "what sprinkles tonight baby?" he asked as he grabbed the whipped cream out of the fridge, he knew the answer because you picked the same every-time, but he asked anyway. "pink and white hearts please ani" you answered, glancing out to the lively city of Coruscant through your endless high windows.

"thank you ani!" you exclaimed as he placed the hot mug filled with hot chocolate, a mountain of whipped cream, small pink marshmallows and little heart sprinkles into your hands. he took the seat next to you, holding his mug filled with only hot chocolate, no sprinkles, marshmallows or cream, you almost broke up with him for that when you first started dating. the whipped cream and marshmallows you got, but the sprinkles? no way.

he wrapped his hand over the back of your chair, effortlessly pulling your chair closer to his so you were touching. you stared at him as his slid his hand over the top of your bare thigh, snaking it up and down before gripping the inside of your thigh, way to close to your heat. all while just staring absent mindedly in front of him and sipping his mug.

you were starting to feel those tingles inside of you, that you coincidently only got around ani. you and ani had done stuff before a few times after you came to him at the first feeling of tingles rising inside of you. he smirked at you then and patted the space on the bed beside him, telling you it was normal and he would help you out. he always helped you out, and you felt like it was time to return the favour. he never told you that you had to though, never making you feel like he deserved something in return, but you were ready. ready for sex.

you stared down at your mug, the little pink marshmallows drowning in the chocolate as the cream melted away into nothingness. you would never pass down a hot chocolate, never. but as you looked between your boyfriend and your mug, you realised you didn't crave hot chocolate. you craved anakin.

the loud screeching of your chair as you pushed it back and your socked feet hitting the floor alerted anakin of your state. your pupils wide and palms sweating as you pulled at the fabric of your - his - shirt. glancing over to see your mug untouched, ani was just about to pull you into his chest and console you at whatever got you worked up this time. but before he could, he heard words that made he nearly spit out the hot chocolate in his mouth.

"i want to have sex with you anakin"

out of all things anakin guessed you were going to say, those words were not one of them. you were shy, even after dating for more than a year, you never just said what you wanted without taking 5 minutes to stumble over your words. and you definitely didn't say words alluding to any sort of sexual activity unless ani teased you to say it after working you up with his fingers buried in you for way too long. "what? can you say that again princess i think i heard you wrong"

"i- pfft- ani you know what i said" you whined, still standing at least 5 feet from him, because if he were to touch you near there again, you might just explode. "nope. i need you to say it again, or you're getting nothing." ok. now he was just being mean.

you always oddly noticed that though. that anytime you guys would do anything down there, ani was just a bit mean. he was always in control, powerful, dominating, but in the bedroom it was like those present qualities were maxed out to 1000.

a flush spread across your cheeks as you huffed. "i- i want to have sex with you anakin" you voiced. that signature annoying cocky smirk spread across his features as he approached you. his combat boots still on his feet from jedi duties and his biceps bulging out of his thin black short-sleeve shirt, you thought you were going to faint.

you noticed again as he stood infront of you how fucking massive he was. he was at least a foot taller than you and could literally crush your body with a single arm if he wanted to. he left goosebumps on your delicate skin as he trailed his fingers up and down your arms making you shiver. he continued on his painfully slow attack of his soft touches before running his hands to the top of your thighs and hooking his thumbs on the sides of your lacy pink underwear.

he stared down at you, biting his lip and all knowing that your underwear was completely soaked because of him. you noticed he was stalled, not making another move and deep in thought. "ani whats wrong?" you asked, no, whined.

"you know this is a big thing baby, i'm fine with helping you out as long as you need me to ok? i don't want to rush you angel. i need you to be very sure you want this." he said softly, drawing circles with his fingers on your thighs.

you weren't exactly sure if it was because you were so horny or just so in love with him, but those words could make you break down and cry.

"im sure ani." he smiled down at you "ok baby, just-. are you 100 percent sure, because not to alarm you but if we start, i'm not sure ill be able to stop" you leaned into him, your forehead resting on the soft fabric of his shirt. "i'm a hundred and ten percent ready ani, promise."

at those words he quickly gripped your ass, hoisting you up into his chest so your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms swung around his neck. your squeal made him even more giddy as all he could feel was you, his thoughts echoed with your giggles and moans and he could practically smell you soaking through your panties.

his dick was straining in his pants as he set you on the soft pink blanket you insisted on putting on your bed. he kneeled down onto his knees pulling you by your feet so your legs dangled off the end of the bed as you squealed. he could feel the need to protect, pleasure and destroy you rise in his body as he reached under the shirt that swallowed your body entirely when you wore it, which was almost always.

he went as slow as he could as he ran his fingers up and down your folds through your panties. you threw your head back at the contact, biting your lip and whining his name. he chuckled at how little he had to do to have you melting in his hands.

as much as he wanted to tease you, he just needed to see you so bad it hurt. he gripped the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, the site of your bare chest almost making him bust in his pants. "shit baby you gotta stop doing this to me, won't fucking last. you're just so pretty." he had a slight groan to every word he said, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking, making you mewl.

he looked into your eyes as he kissed all the way down your stomach before making it to the waistband of your panties. the cold air hit your sensitive clit as ani peeled of the underwear, staring at the wetness he had created and throwing them somewhere in the room. he licked a thick strip through your folds, gripping the insides of your thighs with both of his massive hands, stopping you from wriggling as he ate you out.

"fuckin' hell baby, this pussy 's gonna be the fucking death of me. taste so sweet" he said, his breath on your clit making you squirm. he needed to be in you, now. but there was no way he was fitting in you without stretching you out first, and he needed to fucking hurry.

he sucked his fingers, teasing your hole before sliding two fingers in at the same time. you gasped, looking down at him shocked, he never did two fingers first. "i know baby, you're alright. just need to get you stretched out ok? you're alright."

you nodded franticly as he pumped both fingers in and out of you, the pain quickly subsiding into pleasure. anakin didn't know how he was going to fit inside of you, because judging how hard your gripping two fingers, he wouldn't even fit three in and he was way bigger than three fucking fingers.

he finally decided to enter the third finger into you, slowly working his way through the resistance in your pussy "n-no ani, it's to much" you were blinded by pleasure, stars clouding your vision as all you could see was anakin.

"you're ok. quit whining and take it" his tone was rough and jagged, and you could not be more turned on in that moment. you whined, struggling under him as he brought you to your first orgasm of the night. you came all over his fingers with little warning, whining into your bed sheets as you gripped and pulled at his hair.

you almost let out an objection as he got up from his spot, but judging by the clouded, stern look on his face, that probably wasn't a good idea. he pulled his top off of his body swiftly, his toned, tan chest muscles straining as he ripped of his shoes. in that moment you noticed how venerable you were, you were lying in front of him stark naked, aside from your frilly pink socks, and he still even has his massive dumb combat boots on.

you slowly gripped the pink blanket under you, about to cover the bottom half of your body before a large hand halted your actions immediately. "i swear to god princess, stop or it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do" he spat, running his fingers up and down your folds again.

you noticed that now he was only in his boxers, his hard on showing through the thin material. as he slid his boxers down his legs, his length sprung out and made you gasp. you had never seen a penis before, but the way your friends crudely described it to you, you did not think it would be this big.

"what baby? you're gonna make me insecure if you keep staring at my cock like that" you huffed at his language, wondering how long it was. you stared at it for another few seconds before deciding it had to be at least 10 inches long, or even more and thick as well. safe to say it scared the shit out of you.

"ani, are you sure its meant to be that big?" he only chuckled at you, making you regret you ever asked that question. "hope so princess, had it all my life"

you reached your hand out, touching it for a moment before you heard ani hiss and pulled back instantly. "no baby its ok, i'm just to fucking horny right now, here" he gripped your hand, bringing it up to your mouth and telling you to spit. you did reluctantly and watched as he brought your hand to his dick.

"ani, thats not gonna fit down there.." you say, looking down to your pelvic area. "we're gonna make it" he smiled sweetly, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"and just bring it right here" he instructed, guiding you to the base of his dick. you tried to wrap your hand around it, before releasing your hand didn't reach fully around the width of his cock. he groaned and threw his head back, watching as you shyly pumped up and down the shaft of his member. "here, squeeze a bit harder yeah? its not gonna break if you add a bit of pressure baby, promise"

you nodded shyly, tightening your grip on the heavy dick resting in your hand. as he was watching your movements closely, you kept eye contact and you brought your lips down and kissed the tip softly.

"fuck this" he exclaimed, manhandling you to be in the middle of the bed as he followed closely behind you. his dick slapped against his stomach, raging red and dripping with precum.

"you're doin great, bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? just need to be in you right now" you nodded frantically as he used his hand to hold the base of his dick, positioning in right infront of your pussy.

"ani is it gonna hurt?" you ask, his expressions changes from desperation to his soft loving face, lulling his head to the side as he looks straight at you. "just for a bit baby, then it will feel good, ok? you just gotta trust me on this. but if it hurts to much you tell me to stop ok? pinky swear it" you nodded as he quickly brought his pinky up to yours, inlacing it tightly before kissing your finger and letting go. "im just gonna put the tip in first baby, ok?" you nod again, a switch seems to flick in his face and he looks mad, really mad. "fucking words baby" he says before you whine "yes ani" he smiles sweetly, jesus these facial expressions are giving you whiplash.

he interlaces your left hands together as he pushes his thick tip past your walls, you mewl in pain and pleasure, the other hand you have resting on his bicep gripping so hard you're drawing blood.

"ow ani! i thought you just said the tip!" you whine, scolding your boyfriend. "that was just the tip." he states, your comments feeding his already oversized ego as all the blood rushes to his dick. you sit in that position for about another minute, until you announce for him to start moving again.

he enters his dick slowly into you, inching more until he's about half way through your walls. "s-stop. how much more to go?" you feel like his dick is the size of a fucking lightsaber, stretching you out father and father till you feel like you're simply just gonna split in half. "halfway baby, i can stop here for today. dont have to go any further angel" you looked up at him, god, you loved him to much. "kiss?" you asked softly, releasing you haven't even kissed him this whole time in the bedroom.

ani smiled sweetly, bending down and kissing your lips softly. once he pulled away, you looked at him, and then down at his length impaling you. "keep going ani"

he nodded quickly, not even having the might to protest. you breathed through your mouth as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. it hurt, it hurt like fucking hell but with every inch he pushed inside you, you felt pleasure pulsate through every part of your body.

you let out one last squeal as he bottomed out inside of you, falling into you as he moaned in pleasure. "knew you could fucking take me baby, such a good girl" you beamed at his compliment as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you.

he was amazed how he hasn't cum yet, but he needed you to before he could. he knew you were close, he studied your moans and your facial expressions long enough to figure out when you were cumming.

"ani g- gonna cum" you moaned, feeling him in every-part of you. "go on baby, right behind you". you could feel his dick empty out in you as you came all over him, scratching up his toned back.

"i love you so much ani" you breathed, pulling and tugging at his hair, his breath tickling your shoulder as he answered. "you don't even understand how much i love you baby, no one will ever understand."

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Four

Leo was surprised that he slept at all, but when he woke up the next morning, the light was bright through the gauzy curtains and he sat up feeling like he was forgetting something. It was a trade off he’d learned to deal with. Either his insomnia kept him up all night, or he crashed hard and woke up wondering if he’d been asleep for a week. Or maybe it was just this place. He’d left a window open and the smell of the ocean was so heavenly that Leo nearly fell back into his pillows and basked in it. Until he remembered. Then he fell back into his pillows and tried to figure out what had happened last night, and what might be waiting for him out there.

He listened.

Guitar. Soft, beautiful guitar.

Maybe it had even been what had woken him. That, or the smell of coffee. Leo had seen about five different ways of making coffee in that kitchen and he tried to calm himself by seeing if he could figure out what they were using. It was probably impossible—it was just coffee—but he tried anyway. French press. Espresso. Stove top. Coffee machine, like the one Finn had forgone all of the fancier equipment for back in New York. Maybe he preferred it. What did Logan prefer?

They had wanted to be with him last night. Even worse, Leo had wanted to be with them last night. He could have been waking up in that master bedroom he’d caught a glimpse of. Logan and Finn’s suitcases both disasters on the floor. Now, the bed would be unmade. Had they stayed up late by the fire or followed Leo inside soon after? Leo had forced himself not to listen. He’d counted sheep. He’d counted waves down below. He’d counted his own breaths and heartbeats and all but forced himself to sleep so he wouldn’t count the ways that conversation could have gone or how that night could have ended.

And now Finn O’Hara was playing guitar in the main room—it was Finn. Logan picked it up sometimes but he wasn’t as nimble with it as Finn. So, maybe Logan was making coffee. Or it was only Finn awake with coffee and music and Logan was sleeping in as usual. He clicked on his phone. Eight-thirty. If Logan had his choice, he would still be sleeping. Leo tried to fight the twinge that came with the warm feeling that he knew that.

Leo forced himself to get up. He went to the bathroom, ran wet fingers through his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. This tedious, nervous feeling didn’t reflect in his face. He looked rested and like he’d gotten some sun. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and regarded himself. He didn’t workout much. He liked the classes he went to with Cassie. He was usually the only guy, but he didn’t mind. They laughed as much as they worked but Leo always left drenched in sweat so he figured it was worth it. He looked like he’d always looked to himself. Maybe not as defined as Finn and Logan with their drumming and back-stage push ups, but he’d always been tall and lean.

He went to his suitcase and looked at his options. They’d walk into town today? They’d go to Logan’s nice restaurant? Would they swim and he’d change before dinner?

Were they going to send him home after he’d refused them? He needed to write.

Finn’s voice, muffled, filtered to him through the door, and Logan’s replied. So, they were both up. At the thought that they were waiting on him, Leo threw on a pair of light wash jeans—cool enough, he supposed—and a white t-shirt.

Everything you want, then Logan had said. Leo ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. He wanted quite a bit, and none of it had to do with clothes.

He opened his door slowly and the guitar got louder without the wood blocking it. Leo paused, trying to recognize the song.

“—open doors,” Logan was saying. “And…hm. And open doors…”

“And admit that we won,” Finn replied, talking in a meter that wasn’t quite singing. “Begun, won. Not quite a perfect rhyme, but that’s…”

“Non, that’s good. I like that. When you sing it, it’s a perfect one.”

Leo’s heart picked up.

They were writing a song.

He was tempted to stay hidden and listen, but that felt like a betrayal somehow. Rude. This was private.

Finn began to sing, actually sing, if not a little quietly for Leo’s benefit, just as Leo rounded the corner.

“We tried to fight it off with—oh, hey.” Finn was looking at him, a hesitant sort of smile on his face. “Hi, hi, good morning.”

“Hi,” Leo said.

There was a pause. An obvious one. One that made Leo panic, just a little. Finn’s eyes were a soft, worried brown and Leo didn’t know what to do with that. Logan saved him.

“Salut,” Logan said. He was standing by the stove in a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and holding a stovetop espresso pot. He looked so tan against the white shirt, his hair wet and curlier than usual—from a swim in the ocean? It was pushed back from his face like Leo had seen it that first day at their apartment in New York. Leo glanced back at Finn, who was already looking at him. The expression on his face seemed to say I know, right?

Logan held up the silver pot and Leo made himself study that instead. It looked well-loved. Stained, the metal changed from the heat.

“Coffee?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yeah, please.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Finn asked.

“Was everything—” Logan began to ask, then registered what Finn said. “Oh, ouais, yeah, did you…yeah.”

Finn laughed and gave him a helpless sort of shrug and it made Leo relax a little. They didn’t seem upset. Or like they wanted him gone. They seemed nervous, too.

“I did,” Leo said. “Sleeping with the window open and hearing the waves is so great.”

“I know,” Finn said. “Soothing.”

“I put a little bit of sugar,” Logan said. He nudged an espresso cup across the counter. “Because it’s good.”

“How much is a ‘little bit’ of sugar in your world?” Leo asked—Because it seemed like it might crack some of this worry between them, brittle and crystalized as sugar itself.

Logan’s smile proved him right. “I guessed at what your 'little bit’ would be.” Logan tilted his head. “I think I did good.”

Logan wanted to take them into town for breakfast. Leo wondered if the same car was going to come and pick them up, but it turned out Logan had other plans. He led them through a door—Leo honestly, at this point, wasn’t even going to try to map the house. It sprawled in directions he couldn’t even clock. This time they ended up in a garage that had two cars covered in crisp white sheets.

“Pick a color,” Logan said. “Yellow or green.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said. “Logan.”

Logan just smiled and shrugged. “Yellow or green, Leo?"

“Green,” Leo said instantly and Finn gave him a smile.

Logan strode forward, took hold of the closer sheet, and yanked it off in one flourish. Beneath it sat a pristine, gleaming Porsche. It was an older model, vintage looking with a low roof and a bumper that looked like a smile. It’s velvety dark green color was sleek and spotless.

“Wow,” Leo said faintly. “I mean, yes. The obvious choice for a ride to breakfast.”

Finn laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. “I know, right?”

Logan took a pair of keys off of the wall and tossed the other to Finn. “You’re yellow, Coeur.”

Leo blinked and saw a flash of Finn’s lips on Logan’s skin last night. Logan had just called Finn heart.

It was perfect. He and Logan zipped along narrow, cliffside roads in their green car with the bright racer yellow of Finn’s behind them. Besides the colors, they were a perfect match. Leo felt like he was in a movie with the engine in his ears. They couldn’t talk over the roar, not to mention the wind. Logan rolled all the windows down—literally. The card had cranks not buttons. The salty wind whipped at their hair and Leo knew that he might look insane when he got out of the car, but he didn’t care, not with Logan’s strong hands to study. He had one easy on the steering wheel, and dropped the other periodically to change gears. It was a little like the way he drummed. Just a different sort of rhythm.

They didn’t speak until Logan had to slow down because they’d entered a small town. A market was in full swing and everyone seemed to know Logan’s cars—and Logan himself. He waved out the window at two small kids as he pulled into a parking spot. They were jumping up and down and each holding a peach that was dripping down their arms.

Oh, Leo wanted to shop here. He clicked his seatbelt off and looked at Logan.

“Hi,” Logan said. “Fun?”

Leo nodded. “Fun.”

As they walked around, it became clear to Leo that he was going to have to add an entire section to his article that was just about Logan being here. Even his body moved differently. Leo and Finn walked a few paces behind him as he was greeted by nearly every vendor. They all exchanged kisses on both cheeks. Leo sort of wanted to see Logan kiss Finn on both cheeks.

“Beautiful, right?” Finn leaned over and whispered to him. He was in a white t-shirt like Leo’s, and soft looking blue shorts. Exactly which part of the scene in front of them he was referring to, Leo didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His yes applied to all of it.

Leo was about to buy a few of the peaches he’d seen the kids holding when Logan appeared at his side and dropped coins onto the vendor’s table.

Before Leo could even protest, Logan was guiding him away with a hand on his back and holding something out to him in a flat palm. It was a small pastry nestled in parchment. It looked lemony, or maybe it was an almond paste. On top were two perfect raspberries.

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever eat,” Logan said in French. “I promise.”

“Big promise,” Leo said.

Logan laughed. “It’s true. I dream of them. I could write a song about them.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “Well, in that case.” He picked up the square sweet and took a bite. He’d been right about the almond. It was a sweet, nutty burst in his mouth beside the raspberries. The pastry felt like a thousand thin layers of crisp and butter. Leo closed his eyes and nodded. “Ouais. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

When he opened his eyes again, Logan was still there, gazing up at him with a bright, satisfied grin.

“Let’s get another,” Leo said.

“They sell out fast,” Logan said. “This was their last.”

“Did you get one?”

Logan shrugged. “I wanted you to try it.”

Leo frowned at the half pastry remaining at his hand.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

But Leo held out the other half. “Non. Tu en rêves.”

It was maybe one of the best parts of being here, seeing Logan’s face when he spoke French to him.

“You like it,” Logan said. “I can tell.”

Leo mimicked Logan’s shrug. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, then smiled. Eyes on Leo, he leaned forward and took the rest of the pastry between his teeth right from Leo’s fingertips. Leo hadn’t been expecting that. He could feel color rise to his cheeks as sure as he felt the sun on his neck.

“Just like you remember?” Leo asked to try and draw attention away from his red face. It came in a double force, though, when Logan raised up a thumb and brushed a crumb from the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Better,” Logan said. The French word’s soft double L sound gorgeous in his mouth.

Leo self consciously touched where Logan had touched his mouth. He sort of wanted him to do it again.

“Will you write about this?” Logan asked. “I hope you write about this.”

“Our week’s almost up,” Leo said. “Pretty good finale, I’d say.”

Logan’s face fell.

“Mais…the week we agreed on maybe,” Logan said softly. “Or that was agreed on. By others who didn’t know that we…”

Logan dropped his gaze and Leo was right back in last night, the heat of the fire on his face. Finn and Logan’s open expressions and hopeful eyes. Leo glanced around for Finn and found him talking animatedly to a man at a stall of books. Finn O’Hara, Leo thought. He didn’t look like the rock star, or the heart throb, or the dream talk show guest. He was this sweet boy trying his best to meet that man halfway with bad French and hand gestures. Who got called heart by his boyfriend, who had a boyfriend, who wanted Leo’s voice to help them tell the world about each other.

“Would you…” Logan huffed. He looked around and then took Leo by the hand and tugged him towards an old set of narrow steps in the shade of a sweet smelling tree. Leo let him maneuver them into sitting, squeezed next to each other.

Logan fixed him with his bright green eyes. “Would you want to stay?” Logan asked. “You just got here.”

“You…You want me to extend the story?”

“I want you to stay.”

There was a whole landslide of other halves to that sentence. Leo couldn’t have guessed at a single one.

Leo smiled a little. “You know, I didn’t think you liked me when we first met.”

“No one thinks I like them when we first meet.”

The paper bag of peaches was cool on his lap. Logan had a bag, too, and when he caught Leo looking at it, he uncurled the top. Croissants, chocolate and plain.

“I was nervous,” Logan said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like you. I was worried about the story. Mostly, I was worried you wouldn’t like us.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“I knew you in the way you knew us,” Logan said. “Through your writing. Non, we don’t know-knoweach other, but we know each other. You can’t write without some truth. Can you?”

He had him there. “That’s true. No, that’s true. Okay…”

“Leo,” Logan said more seriously. He pushed their thighs together harder where they were already touching. “Will you stay? Only if you want to, of course, but…please. We want you to stay.”

God, did he want to. He wanted months of whatever this was. Whatever they were dancing around—because it was something. God, it was something. Leo didn’t sleep much but he had already dreamed about it. He just wished there was a way to tell them that he wouldn’t say it first. He couldn’t say it first. Right now, he was in charge of the most important story of their careers. If something soured—and Leo knew better than most how quickly things could sour—he didn’t want any more tangles than necessary. They had each other. They already had each other.

“I’ve told you how much you’ve meant to me,” Leo began. “And for how long.”

Logan nodded.

“And I’ve told you that you’ve helped me through some bad people and experiences.”

“Ouais. But we got interrupted.”

“We did, yeah. Yeah…” Leo sighed. “Well, the bottom line is, you’re not the first, um…”

“Le sujet,” Logan offered, then winced.

“Subject. Sure. You’re not the first subject who’s wanted to…” There was no better way to say it, honestly. “Sleep with me. That is what was happening last night, wasn’t it?”

“First, we would have wanted to kiss you.”

They both looked up just as Finn sat down, sitting sideways on the step below them so they had to lift let their legs go over his. When he smiled and pushed his sunglasses up on his head, he was Finn O’Hara for a second. It looked like a Vogue cover shoot. And then he tipped Leo’s bag to poke inside and he was Finn again.

Kiss you. He’d surely walked into some far-fetched dream of his own making. But, no, there they were. They were both touching him somehow. Knee against knee. Finn’s knuckles kept brushing his ankle. It was comforting.

“You wanted it to go somewhere last night,” Leo repeated. “Kiss, more…but that’s what was going on. I’m not wrong?”

“You’re right,” Logan said. He was blushing. Sweating a little, pushing his hair back. The market was loud and oblivious around them, and Leo wasn’t sure why this conversation was happening here, but it was.

“We didn’t just want to sleep with you,” Logan said.

“Okay…” Leo shook his head and looked at Finn. “The kissing your boyfriend in front of me didn’t really give me any clues farther than fucking.”

“Yeah…” Finn was rubbing at one of his eyes. “I think maybe we’re a little rusty on the flirting side of things.”

“There is no way your flirting is rusty,” Leo said, laughing a little. “Believe me, I think I’d know. I’ve been watching you for a week, you flirt with everyone.”

“No,” Finn said. “Nu-uh. I make everyone think I’m flirting with them. I make whole crowds think I’m flirting with them.” He turned to face Leo. “I flirt…or try to…with you.”

“We weren’t just trying to—” Logan looked horrified. “Là, what, quoi, have sex then goodbye?”

Finn dropped his forehead on Leo’s knee. “We were trying…” He looked up at Logan. “We should have just asked him out to dinner, like, obviously!”

“I did ask him to dinner!” “No, like, ask-ask. That’s not the same thing!”

“Okay,” Leo held up a hand, heart wildly trying to beat against his ribs. Everything inside of him hurt. He couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Mostly, he couldn’t see the infatuation. The short lived lust. Not here. With Finn and Logan, he just couldn’t tell. They both seemed—well, a little nervous, actually. Leo didn’t think he’d seen them so flustered. Ever.

“My job is to make the people I’m writing about feel comfortable,” Leo said. “And it’s been mistaken for attraction before. That’s just…” Leo held up a hand. “I’m just putting that down.”

“You weren’t just making us feel comfortable,” Finn said firmly. “Do you know how many journalists we’ve been around? God, so many and a lot of them are awful. They call my brother behind my back hoping to get some dirt or jealousy. I’ll turn around and they’ve opened one of my fucking notebooks. Leo, you are so different, you are so…” Finn looked at Logan for a moment. “I’ve loved your writing for so long. I read it to Logan, even your pieces from that blog you used to run.”

Leo flushed. “Oh—oh my God, what?”

His blog. When he’d been desperately trying to get clips to big magazines. Finn O’Hara—Read it to—

“You slipped right into us,” Finn said. “You’re gorgeous and you’re so smart and articulate…I think I could talk to you for hours. Nothing felt like an interview, you felt like we’d known you forever.”

“Forever,” Logan agreed.

Leo wanted to shake them. “Finn, that’s my job. I’m really fucking good at my job.”

“Yeah, but how often do you forget you’re doing you’re job because you’re happy, too?” Finn fired back, but then his eyes softened. He put a hand on Leo’s knee. “You felt it, too. You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that.”

“Yes, I—” Leo closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Yes, of course I did. I did.”

He really could have talked to them forever. Sometimes he’d even forgotten there was a show to perform when they’d been laughing and talking in their dressing room beforehand. He could have listened to them forever. Logan’s little French mumbles. The way he closed his eyes when he practiced a song. They way his fingers drummed on every surface—they were twitching on Leo’s other knee now. The songs Finn sang around hotel rooms and apartments—not his own songs. His favorite songs. Leo wanted to know all of Finn’s favorite songs and why. They way they watched him cook. The way they showed their appreciation. The way they kissed each other. He wanted to brush his teeth beside them and crawl into bed and talk after turning the lights off until they were too tired. What a fantasy.

“Look,” Leo said. “I’m not just protecting myself here. Do I think you’re both—God, so gorgeous I can’t breathe, and sweet, and funny, and talented, yes. But I thought that even before I knew you. I’m trying to separate my skills from myself for your sake, and I’m trying to separate your stardom and your selves for my sake. And yours. Guys, you don’t want someone who wants you because you’re famous.”

“You don’t,” Finn said. “I know what that looks like.”

“We both do,” Logan said.

“I—okay. Of course you would know. But even still.” Leo sighed, heart heavier by the moment. He didn’t know if he was wrong here or if they were just good at trying to prove him wrong. “You have each other. You are asking me to write about your love for the first time in public and that’s a big deal. You two are going to get so much attention, it’s insane. And you’re telling me you like me, and you feel something for me, but there is going to be literally zero room for me when not only does your album come out, but this article. If you even still want me then.”

Leo was so out of breath it made his heart pound and stars appear at the edges of his visions. Those last words had come out a whisper. He’d said it, though. All of it. He’d needed the words and the words had been right there for him to arrange. Even more, Leo and Finn were both completely silent, completely still, and listening.

“I’ve been the thing that someone keeps in the dark before,” Leo said, keeping his eyes down. He felt Logan’s hand tighten on his knee. “Literally. He wouldn’t even keep the lights on when we kissed.”

Logan’s other hand appeared. Or Finn’s? They were all but holding whatever part of him they could reach now. Leo couldn’t push them away. Maybe right now he could explain to them why he thought he should be saying no, but he didn’t want them to let go.

“Am I very attracted to you both? Yes. Was it very hard to say no last night?” Leo’s laugh was half groan. “God, yes. But am I going to be kept in any sort of darkness ever again?” Leo swallowed hard, throat tight, and shook his head. “No. I’m…I’m sorry, but no.”

No sooner had Leo finished that sentence than did one of the little kids that had been practically hanging off of Logan’s body earlier launch itself over Finn’s legs and straight into Logan’s lap. She started talking a mile a minute—even Leo couldn’t quite keep up. Logan just stared. He held the little girl, nodding, smiling, but in a daze. Leo didn’t know if Finn knew his hand was on Leo’s calf, tightening and loosening, maybe as he tried to think what to do. What to say.

Leo was just beginning to suspect maybe he had said too much when the girl’s mother called her away.

They were still quiet. Leo could pick out each of their breathing. He looked at Finn, because his silence meant he still wasn’t convinced. Leo didn’t really want him to be.

“Logan told me that he thinks about the way he used to miss you, and misses you sometimes even when you’re asleep right next to him.”

Finn looked at Logan, lips parting. He didn’t look surprised, exactly. Just like it hurt to hear it again.

Leo covered Finn’s hand with his, drawing his eyes back to him. “That’s love. That’s what you have.”

Finn didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we have more to give.”

Leo stared at him. Again—what were they doing, tucked away from the crowds in this little set of steps, talking about this?

Logan was so quiet, had been so quiet the whole time, that Leo had to look at him. Logan Tremblay. In what world did Logan Tremblay look at him like this? Like he was about to sing the chorus of I See Red, or leave the stage for Rooftop. The expression on his face looked real enough. Leo had to admit that.

“I don’t trust people,” Logan said under Leo’s gaze. “But I trust you.” When Leo went to speak, Logan pressed a palm to his chest. “Don’t tell me what happened on the balcony was your job. It wasn’t.”

“No. That wasn’t,” Leo said softly.

“How about this,” Finn said. “Stay long enough to get everything for the piece.”

“And we haven’t played you any of the new album,” Logan cut in.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Finn said. “Hey, that’s in the contract for your piece.” He smiled. “You get to hear three songs.”

Leo couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Are you bribing me with your music?”

“Not bribing,” Finn said. “I want to know what you think. Always.”

“We.”

“We want to know what you think,” Finn said. “And we never said a word to your editors about this being more than just a music story, so…” Finn tilted his head. “Technically, we can all renegotiate and you…You can ask for more time with us?” He looked so, so hopeful. “And maybe, just maybe, we can show you that we’re not under some love-sick spell cast by your outstanding professionalism.”

Leo’s laugh was real this time, and so sudden that he covered his mouth. “Cast my by professionalism?”

Finn grinned and untangled himself enough to stand up. He offered them both a hand. “Come on. Let’s take our time.”

God. Finn O’Hara and all of his perfect words. “Time sounds good.”

~

It wasn’t a hard sell. The second Finn and Logan’s people told Leo’s people just how big this story would be, Leo was basically told to stay put for now, and Finn and Logan were told to only talk to Leo about this until the story was out and couldn’t be leaked. Essentially, they were told to talk, work, write, and not leave.

That had been five days ago. Leo was now thoroughly sunned, oceaned, and thinking a whole lot about Logan’s hand on his chest, Finn’s on his ankle, and kissing.

They went to the market nearly every morning. Leo had made a, if he could say so himself, perfect peach pie with the fruit he’d bought—Logan had bought. They’d been to Logan’s raved about restaurant and Leo had gotten his cheeks kissed by no less than six waiters. Logan had been right. He’d never tasted food like that.

They’d walked down Logan’s cliffs and spend hours lounging in the shade and sun and diving into deep, clear water. Leo had tried not to stare at Finn’s marble-pale chest in the sun. Logan’s tan-line that drew itself oh-so low on his hips. In his notebook lay the phrase couple of fucking mermaids that wouldn’t make it into any sort of writing but it was true.

Each night, Logan built a fire and Finn brought out a special wine—now Leo had seen him spend a good forty minutes with the man who owned the wine shop in town. Apparently it was a hobby of Finn’s. The other night, Finn had brought out a small bottle that was sweet and amber colored—and his guitar. Leo had gotten his first new song.

“Okay,” Finn had said. “So, this is called—wait, do you want your notebook or anything?”

Leo, feeling like Christmas morning, shook his head. “No. I just want to listen.”

“Cool.” Finn bit his lip. “Okay, cool. Cool. So it’s called…” He was looking at Leo, hand flexing on the neck of his guitar. “Um.”

“Rouge,” Logan said, sounding bewildered.

“Counting,” Finn burst out, laughing a little. “No, it’s called Counting. Sorry. Okay. Here we go. It’s about—” Finn waved his pick at Logan. “That one.”

Leo laughed. “That one?”

Finn shook his head, grinning down at his guitar as he gave the strings a small twist to make sure it was in tune. “That stupidly handsome person right there.”

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned towards Leo. “Imagine it with big drums. Sounds soft now, that’s how he wrote it, but on stage, on the album, I’m all in.” Logan grinned at Leo and he looked like he did on stage when Finn made him laugh into his mic.

“I think I can do that,” Leo said.

Finn began to sing.

One big game of hide and seek.

Count to ten and come find me.

I’m in here waiting patiently.

Tucked away and so ready.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

We’re okay just still counting.

I’ll hold you and you hold me.

Strike a match so we can see.

Don’t worry baby, I would count it all for you.

I’d count the miles, the minutes, the ways tried and true.

Five and six and seventeen,

I’d count mountains, towns, and streams,

Sneaking cracks on dark ceilings,

Motes of dust in sunlight gleams,

I would count most anything.

Leo forgot about the glass he was holding. He had to set it down. He leaned forward, towards the warm fire. Finn was perfect in its light. His dark red hair, the orange glow, the tan, scuffed up wood of his guitar. Leo spared a glance at Logan, who was already watching him. He didn’t look nervous like Finn. He looked relieved. As Leo watched, he let out a breath and nodded, biting back a smile. Finn’s eyes were closed, fingers quick on the guitar, the heel of his palm standing in place for what would be Logan’s beat.

Days

And months

And years

Of him,

Skin

And laughs

And sinking

In,

There a first for everythin’,

Listen up, he’s mine.

He’s

The Sun

I’m basking in

Crash

Into

His waves and swim

Fills me up right to my brim

If I overflow it’s fine.

Listen up, he’s mine—

I could build a shrine

I would pour the wine

Worship till I die

The god I recognize.

Leo was more than used to feeling breathless at Finn’s music, but this song sucked all the air from his lungs. He knew that counting. He knew the feeling of striking that match. He didn’t know what it was to be with someone through it, but he certainly knew.

Finn settled his guitar carefully on the couch when he was finished. He was all nervous energy, rubbing his hands together and fidgeting. He rose briefly and poured Leo more wine before settling back on the couch.

“So, there’s—yeah. What do you…” Finn trailed off.

“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. “It’s…If I overflow, it’s fine. I love that. I really love that, you—and the counting, that’s just perfectly true. That’s so true…” Leo felt his throat closing up and took a slow breath. “God, Finn. Both of you…It’s—I’ve always thought you walk this perfect line between sweet and…”

“And?” Logan asked when Leo trailed of.

Leo had only done so because he’d realized what he had been about to say. He’d already written about it, though, which meant Finn had already read it, so he might as well. “Well. Just—epic. It’s an epic love, it’s—sexy. That’s how you write it.”

“Hm.” Logan looked pleased.

“I hoped you would understand,” Finn said. “I mean, I knew you would.”

“This is your first song using him,” Leo said. “No French girls met on tour, no room for misunderstanding.”

Logan grumbled something about French girls into his wine cup and Finn reached over and pulled him into a sloppy sort of kiss. Logan let his face be smushed into an equally joyful kiss on his cheek.

“None,” Finn said. “No more of all that. We want to be clear. On everything.”

Leo sat back against the cushions. “Everything.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “Everything.”

~

Nearing the end of their second week, Leo and Finn were swimming. Finn kept diving down and bringing Leo little treasures from the bottom. He had this funny pair of goggles that he wore to do it. He’d push them down around his neck and show Leo shells and interesting rocks before tossing them back under. His body looked cool and pale under the surface.

Finn kept surprising him. Maybe that showed on his face because, as they tread water, talking, Finn tilted his head and asked.

“What?” Finn said, dipping his mouth low into the salt water before rising again. “What’s with the face?”

Leo brought his legs forward to float more on his back, laughing. “Oh. Nothing.”

Finn splashed him. “What?” He swam closer until Leo could pick out new freckles on his slightly sunburned nose. “What, what, what?”

They were near the rocky ledges and Finn pointed out a spot that he probably knew well, where two people could sit on a natural ledge just beneath the water. The stone was rough, but it put them in the shade and the calm waves lapped around their chests.

“You’re just…” Leo pressed his lips together, smiling.

“Okay, I’m gonna like, dunk you or something if you don’t—”

“You’re kind of a—” Leo shrugged. “A dork.”

Finn’s face was too good not to laugh at.

“I’m a what?”

“A dork,” Leo said. “Completely.”

“Excuse me.” Finn leaned closer. “I am not.”

“A dork,” Leo sighed. “Pop star dork.” Finn squinted at Leo in the sun, smiling. He still had the goggles around his neck and Leo reached forward and hooked a finger in them. “See?”

Finn hummed noncommittally. He’d let Leo’s hand nudge them closer together.

“Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

Finn skipped his hand along the water’s surface. It was almost too bright to look at directly with the sun coming off it like that, and Leo leaned back against the rock and the shade, keeping his eyes on Finn instead.

“So—possible article question for you,” he said. “If it’s all right?”

“Go for it.”

Leo touched a sparkling vein of mineral in the rock, tracing his finger down it. “What’s it like when you first play Logan a song like that one you played me?”

“Like…what? A love song?”

“Well, yeah, to put it lightly. But…Listen up, he’s mine, I could build a shrine, I would pour the wine, worship till I die, the god I recognize. Love song…does that begin to cover those lyrics?”

Finn laughed. “Wow. I played that for you once.”

“You’re pretty unforgettable.”

“Shucks.”

Leo drew one knee up to his chest. “It’s…There’s something like I See Red to it.”

“Logan wrote that mostly.”

“I know. Exactly. The way you talk about each other. It is like…intense, I don’t know. I just mean—here. I’ll ask it this way first. What went through your mind when Logan played I See Red for you the first time?”

“Mm.” Finn smiled at the memory. “You mean what happened after he told me he wants me all over him?”

Leo tried not to show how hot his body flashed, burning, even in the cool ocean. He rested his chin on his knee, then his mouth, just to hide the wavering sort of inhale he took.

“If—whatever you want to tell me,” Leo managed.

Finn mirrored Leo’s position—knee up, hands locked around his ankle. “How would you feel if someone played a song like that for you? About you.”

“That’s my question.”

“You first.”

Leo rolled his eyes.

“That’s right,” Finn said, propping his chin on his knee like Leo with a sly sort of grin. “I’m a difficult little rock star.”

“Oh, are you writing an article?” Leo laughed.

Finn’s brown eyes stayed sincere and playful. “I don’t write articles.”

Leo stared at him. Finn was visibly holding himself back, even if he was leaning forward and kept looking at Leo’s mouth. Leo had to remind himself that he’d asked him to. Finn wanted him. Finn still wanted him, that was obvious. His brown eyes were a little bit of fall right there in the summer sun. Leo kind of wanted to be kissed on this ledge in the ocean.

I don’t write articles.

“What’s that mean?” Leo asked faintly.

Finn considered him for another moment. “You said you’ve had…clients fall for you before.” Finn looked especially handsome asking a question in his little melodramatic way. Leo didn’t know what it was, but he did. “Ever had a song written about you?”

Okayokayokay. “No…”

“Hm.”

“Not that I know of.” Leo swallowed. He tasted salt on his lips. “Now you. You have to answer.”

“You didn’t answer.”

Leo sighed, smiling. “I…” He tried to clear his head. A song. Lyrics that were so all-consuming. “I would feel…”

He didn’t know. It was almost unimaginable.

He hesitated for long enough, cheek pressed to his knee now, that Finn copied him in that, too, and helped him.

“Timeless,” Finn said.

That gave Leo a word. “Immortal.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Leo watched the sunlight play on Finn’s freckles. He was the picture of a high noon sun, and he was looking between Leo’s eyes and his mouth.

Neither of them saw the wave.

They got a face full of water to splutter through as it’s gentle crest went nearly over their heads, lifting them from their seat.

“They say every tenth one is the biggest,” Finn laughed. He put his goggles back on, grinned at Leo, and held up two thumbs up. “Lunch?”

He felt tan, and cool from the water as they made it back to the house. He didn’t bother washing the salt off his skin, just threw on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He only realized when he glanced at himself in the mirror that he and Finn must have swapped on accident at the water’s edge. Instead of his plain white t-shirt, this one was white with a faded NASA logo on it. Leo’s pulse kicked up. He’d seen Finn wear this. On stage. Many times. It was famous on Instagram and Twitter. Replicas had been made. Girls wore copies of this t-shirt to their concerts.

Leo was standing here, wearing the original.

He took a breath before going back out to the living room.

Finn went off to write somewhere with his guitar, but Leo fixed him and Logan sandwiches and they settled in the living room, all of the doors flung wide. Logan was doing a puzzle. Leo had his notebook on his lap with a little section dedicated to transcribing the little murmurs of French Logan said as he worked. Not for the story, just for him. No, not there. This stupid blue. Wrong color. Ah, yes, here. This fits.

Leo sighed and dropped his pen, flexing his cramping hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked from where he’d been frowning over two puzzle pieces. Leo was still getting over the sheer sweetness of the intense-on-stage-Logan he had known sitting in front of him for an hour and putting a puzzle together. Leo wasn’t sure what the picture would end up being. Logan refused to look at the box lid for reference. It was face-down beside him. Again, Leo sort of wanted to laugh at how he’d thought it would be an all-night party every night. Nope. Late morning coffee, farmer’s markets, cocktails, and puzzles. Much more his speed.

“Yeah, good,” Leo said. “My hand just cramps up if I write for too long. Hand write, at least.”

“Hm.” Logan set the pieces he was holding down and pushed himself up onto his knees. He walked himself over to the couch that way and sank back on his heels at Leo’s feet. He held out his hands. “Give to me.”

“I—what?” Leo asked.

Logan just made an impatient sound and reached for the hand that Leo had been stretching out. He arranged Leo’s hand palm up with his fingers flat but relaxed. Then Logan’s strong thumbs began pressing into the heel of Leo’s palm, smoothing down towards the inside of his wrist. He pressed near his elbow too—Leo hadn’t even realized it hurt there.

“It’s all connected, the wrist, the fingers, it goes all the way to the shoulder,” Logan said. His accent got a little stronger here and Leo almost wanted to ask him to say all that again. But then Logan was kneading at Leo’s shoulder just below his collarbone and—

“Oh,” Leo said faintly. “That feels…”

Logan smiled. “Je sais. Finn is even better at it, I make him do it to me all the time.”

Leo thought about the way Finn liked to come up behind him or Logan, and the way he squeezed their shoulders. If he was putting effort and purpose behind that…Yeah, it would be heavenly.

“I like your shirt,” Logan said teasingly.

“I guess we swapped.”

“Mm. Guess so.”

Leo just tilted his head to the side and let himself relax in Logan’s hands as he worked out the soreness. He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until he felt Logan’s fingers slowing. Finally, they stilled, both cradling Leo’s hand again. He opened his eyes to see green staring back. Logan had settled very close on the couch, but maybe Leo had drawn him there, too, unconsciously pulling him closer to where it hurt so that he could make it better.

Logan rested a hand on his chest, just as he had at the market. His eyes darted down to Leo’s mouth. Logan had a perfect cupid’s bow. So perfect. Leo wanted to take it in his mouth and feel its dip.

He’d wanted that in the ocean, too. Finn had a freckle on his lip, just at the border where pale skin met pink, and Leo just…God, he wanted it.

“Leo,” Logan whispered.

“Yes,” Leo said, hearing the question Logan hadn’t yet asked.

“Just one,” Logan said. “Please. Is it okay?”

What else would Leo do other than nod. He was running out of willpower. These boys. These shell-diving, wine-enthusiast, puzzle-doing, grumpy in the morning boys. He worried he was smiling a little too much and tried to take a breath. Tried to steady himself. Logan pushed himself up onto the couch, kneeling with on knee down so that Leo’s body angled towards him. One of his hands went to Leo’s thigh, bunching the fabric of his shorts.

It was the softest kiss Leo had ever been given. Logan lingered in it, though. A soft, giddy intake of breath and the lightest of tugs at Leo’s bottom lip.

Leo’s hand went to his waist, to the very spot he had been dying to touch. Near the tattoo. And the cupid’s bow, he could feel it. And the way Logan held himself perfectly still, as if letting Leo control the whole thing. The problem was, Leo’s mind was forgetting almost everything he’d said just a few days ago.

Here, they were just two boys.

Logan made a soft sound in his throat when Leo tilted his chin up to kiss him harder. It parted his lips and Leo tested gently, but Logan let him right in. He tasted the mint tea Logan had been drinking—seemingly the only thing he took without sugar. Logan’s fingers curled and held onto Leo’s t-shirt. Finn’s t-shirt.

Here, there felt like there was all the room for him in the world, even if he didn’t understand why they wanted him to begin with.

Here, it didn’t seem to matter that he was a journalist and they his subjects.

Logan broke the kiss gently, but stayed close. The string that would break Leo’s resolve hadn’t snapped, but oh, was it ever threadbare. Logan could probably feel how fast Leo’s heart was pounding beneath his hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked faintly.

Leo had to swallow hard to find his voice. “Mhm.”

Logan nodded, the motion bringing their foreheads to rest together. He shifted and let out a sigh.

Leo realized he’d tucked his hands up and under Logan’s shirt and he just had to look down for a glimpse of that tattoo.

He got a lot more.

Logan’s shorts were straining around his hips. Leo got turned on so fast, stars sparked around his vision. The shorts were linen. White. Barely anything. They buttoned, not zipped, and those buttons were trying to hold on.

“Sorry,” Logan whispered.

“No,” Leo managed to say. He sounded weird to himself. “It’s—you’re fine. Very fine.”

“I just…” Logan laughed a little. He cupped a palm to Leo’s face briefly before pulling away. He flashed him a bashful smile as he turned back to sit on the couch. “Là, I mean, look at you. I’m…d’accord. I don’t mean to…”

Leo needed to say something more. He needed to say something not stupid. Something other than I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now.

“We’re taking our time,” Logan said. He took Leo’s hand and squeezed.

“I—no, we are,” Leo said. But if you wanted to sit on my lap right fucking now—

“Ouais,” Logan said. He was breathing slow, like he was trying to will himself to calm down. “Okay, so I will—be right back?”

They both kind of dissolved into laughter at that. Logan sat next to him, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Merde. Does this go into the piece?”

Leo had to stop laughing long enough to say, “In the middle of doing a puzzle, Tremblay had to be right back—”

Logan let out one of his free laughs and reached over blindly to shove at Leo’s knee. “Hey, take a look at yourself. You’re just as bad.”

Leo was trying very hard not to think about himself.

Logan rose, face flushed, and jerked his head towards the puzzle. “See if you can figure out that hellish thing over there.”

Leo watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Leo didn’t know if he was going to find Finn to help or go somewhere on his own to—well, fix it or calm down. Both thoughts sent Leo’s body aching. He had to lean his head back on the couch and breathe. He reached down and tried to make himself more comfortable, but it didn’t help.

He picked his notebook back up. He flexed his hand and picked up his pen. No use. He closed his notebook. He looked at Logan’s puzzle.

He took a deep breath, slid himself to the floor, and set about fitting a couple pieces into place.

~

Leo got called back the next morning via an email with airline tickets attached for the following morning. Apparently endless time equated a week more. Rather, Leo would be sent back out to a show when their tour started back up to write a follow-up snippet on what it was like playing shows as a couple.

But it left Leo a little frantic and disoriented. It left Logan and Finn staring at him with faces that were almost mournful when he broke them the news over morning coffee.

Logan punched Finn’s arm. “Be a difficult little rock star.”

Finn arched a brow at Leo. “Can I?”

Leo smiled, tempted to take Finn up on it, but he knew it was probably no good. He was supposed to be with them for a week. It’d been almost three. His boss would want their story polished and published, and Leo back in the office.

Only now here he was. His last night in this perfect place, unable to sleep.

The sleeplessness wasn’t new to him. He’d had insomnia ever since he could remember. It was only that it was here. He’d never slept so well in his life as he had these past few weeks.

It could have been worse. At least with all the extra space and the crashing waves, he didn’t feel worried about waking anyone up as he made himself some tea in the kitchen before trying to lull himself back to sleep by proofreading. Nothing exhausted him like proofreading.

He rubbed at his eyes as the kettle heated. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t feel like he had an old life. This felt like his life. Waking up and Logan making him that perfect bitter sweet espresso. Finn’s music all day long, soft plucks on the guitar, humming as they read together on the dock. Finn coming to peak over his shoulder while he was writing, stealing his pen out of his hand and adding seemingly random words. Blue!! Sunny!! Dazzle!!

The morning markets. Logan’s almond pastry. Puzzles and movies and how did he get here? Oh God, how did he love the hours of the day so much?

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Leo jumped hard, eyes flashing open as he turned. Finn was standing there in a well-loved t-shirt that said New York Rangers. He had his hands in the pockets of his cotton pajama pants and was smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Leo laughed, hand on his chest. “No, me. I mean, I’m sorry. You startled me. What are you doing awake?”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“Lord, am I a hopeless sleeper,” Leo said. “I’ve been getting up at one in the morning and staying awake until three for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Finn frowned. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it. What about you?”

Finn shrugged. “I think I heard you.”

“Fuck.” Leo felt his shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Finn said. “I was kind of already awake.” He paused and leaned his hands on the cool stone counter between them. “Was thinking about you leaving.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Me too.”

“You really have to go?”

“You have to go, too,” Leo said. “You’re kind of on a world tour, you know.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Finn said. “Sorry, I’ve been doing more important things lately.”

Leo smiled. “Oh…I don’t know about that.”

Finn gave him this unconvinced look as he rounded the kitchen counter. He looked like he was on stage all of a sudden. Something about his walk. The daring look in his eye. Like he was about to say something to a crowd that was sure to get a reaction.

He stopped right next to Leo and crossed his arms, looking at him. Unlike Logan, they were almost eye-to-eye. Finn’s smile brought heat from Leo’s chest to his hips.

“I hear Logan got a kiss.”

That heat spread out farther. His cheeks. His neck. Finn’s eyes darted over his face like he was watching it.

“He did,” Leo said. Oh God, please kiss me.

Finn clicked his tongue like it was a shame. “Would’ve liked to see it, gotta say.”

Leo laughed a little. “Honestly, me too.”

Finn bit his lip. He was sort of smiling, but there was something else there, too. It was half hidden in the dim kitchen.

“Is it…Is it that you like one of us better?” A flicker of insecurity. “Because if—”

Leo pushed his hands against Finn’s chest. Stopping him. Holding him there. Brown eyes, bed-head, skin still salty from the sea. Leo had always loved Finn O’Hara. But Finn. This Finn was something else. This Logan… All of those fans didn’t even have a clue.

Leo couldn’t stand that hurt look on Finn’s face. He curled a hand behind Finn’s neck and pulled him closer. Like he’d wanted to in the ocean. Like he’d wanted to every time he heard him sing.

“Finn, I like both of you so much, it scares me.”

“Then…” Finn leaned closer, dropping his voice to hardly a whisper, so quiet that Leo more felt the words brush his own lips than he heard them. “Don’t I get a kiss, too? Before you go? Feeling a little left out over here—”

Leo didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward and kissed him.

His world went perfectly silent.

Oh. Leo grabbed onto Finn’s broad shoulders. Oh, oh, oh, Finn O’Hara could kiss. Oh, Finn could kiss, he could kiss, he kissed Leo like he would never breathe again and Leo felt himself sink. His chin tilted up, his body fell into Finn’s, and Finn took it. Finn held him.

He pressed harder against Finn’s body. Finn made a soft sound when his back hit the counter and his hands smoothed down Leo’s back, cupping his hips.

Finn managed to get out, “Are you—” before Leo was kissing him again.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yes, yes…”

This was not Logan’s restraint. Not a single kiss. This was the sugar in Finn’s songs, the sugar that always applied to Logan in Leo’s mind. But Finn’s kiss was so all-consuming that it occurred to Leo that some of that sweetness had to belong to him. God, what could Logan do when he wasn’t holding back?

It took Leo a moment to figure out what sound was pulling at his mind and interrupting him. A strange, high-pitch—

“Shit,” Leo mumbled. “Tea, tea, tea.”

Finn didn’t even break away, though. He reached out a hand and flicked the stove off to stop the kettle from whistling.

The renewed silence rung in Leo’s ears. Finn’s palm was rubbing up and down Leo’s back.

Suddenly, Finn was hugging him tightly. His chin was tucked into Leo’s neck and Leo’s hand went to his hair automatically. That famous hair. Red and thick and soft. Leo turned his nose into it.

“You have our numbers,” Finn whispered. “And you know where we’ll be.” His brown eyes looked pleading when he pulled back. “You will choose a show, won’t you? Choose a show and come see us. The article will be out. I know there’s the follow up but—We’ll just be three people.”

Just three people. Leo thought of those little dressing rooms. That New York apartment. This place. But the fear was still there. Three people. Leo didn’t care what strangers thought. He cared about the aftermath of losing them, though. If he lost them…

Finn read it all on his face and he took Leo’s cheeks in his palms. He kissed him—this was closer to Logan’s gentle kiss.

“Come to a show and find out how much I want this,” Finn said. “Okay? Promise me. Or do I have to wake up grumpy and get him to tell you because he’ll probably just burrow in and not let you leave. Ever.” A brush of Finn’s nose against Leo’s. “He’s all about that kind of thing these days.”

Leo’s laugh spilled out, too much and too giddy for the night, but he didn’t mind. When he made to pull back, just a little, Finn took his arms and put them back around his neck. Leo couldn’t help his shiver as Finn’s palms ran down his sides and Finn pressed another smiling kiss to his mouth.

“If you wake him, I really will never leave,” Leo whispered. “And I do have to go.”

“Then promise me.”

Leo closed his eyes. He was so sure he’d be able to sleep just fine if Finn kept holding him like this.

“I promise.”

[clarkeyhill]

☁️She's like a shot of espresso| Arthur Hill

[When you met Arthur he was known for having a temper, quick to react at any simple given moment, but since you've been dating his temperament has changed, he's more calm, laid back and less hot headed]

It was quiet in the flat, Arthur was out practising for his upcoming tour, you had nothing to do so you decided to make some dinner for when Arthur returned, you made a basic sausage casserole, it was a cold autumn night and you couldn't think of anything better than a hearty meal. You decide to live stream on TikTok as you cook, something to pass the time by; you engaged with your followers as you did Arthur's, some filtered through to ask about him and you responded, feeling like you'd made a family through the screen, someone asks a personal questions and you are reluctant to answer it.

"Do you think Arthur will ever stop being quick to anger, he seems hostile in recent his videos"

You study the comment with a dry throat, you knew he'd been having a stressful time and didn't want to discuss him personally, so you brush past it. The comments pops up again and you hesitate "I've seen the comment and I'm going to choose not to discuss my boyfriend in that context, he's a great person and I love him dearly, please don't comment it again" you smile, not wanting to sound rude. You leave the casserole to simmer as you say bye to the viewed and end the live. You set the table, waiting for Arthur to come back.

Just as you were stirring the food your phone rings "hey love, I'm on my way home, what're you doing?" He says softly "Im just stirring tea, you hungry?" You reply "you're an angel, it's just what I need right now, see you soon, love you" he says "love you too" you reply. The door turns and Arthur's home "that smells amazing" he says kicking his shoes off "how was practise" you say hugging him "it was good, I got a little bit annoyed because my throat was scratchy but it was a start" he says, the comments flickers in your mind as he mentions the word annoyed; he notices your face shift "what's wrong?" He says looking at you with concern "oh nothing, just a comment on my live from earlier" you say "what was it?" He furrows his brows "someone just mentioned that you were hostile in your videos and they asked me if I thought you'd ever not be angry" you say frowning, "oh.." he says, your heart shatters as he walks away from you "Arthur the content was filmed before we met, they will see how much you've changed" you say with reassurance "yeah, maybe" he says with a sigh. "Look forget the comment, let's eat and snuggle in bed with a movie" you say "i can't, I need to go somewhere" your brows furrow again "after food right? Where?" He gets up and walks to the corridor, slipping his shoes on "I just need..some air" he says walking out the door. Your face drops, you felt a wave of guilt as your stomach drops, you turn the food off and leave it on the stove.

You decide to text George incase he appeared at the flat.

You: "hey George, if Arthur comes by will you let me know, he's walked out and I'm not sure where he's got to"

George replies instantly: "yeah sure, is everything okay?"

You: "I'm not sure, I brought up a comment someone made about his temper and he just..left"

George: "that's strange, I'll let you know if he comes over"

You: "thanks George"

You pace round the flat, 20 minutes go by and you receive a text from George "he's here and he's stressed"

You heart sinks as you grab your keys, rushing out the door, you make your way over to the flat. You knock on the door as George opens it, you see a frantic Arthur pacing in the background "hey" you say sighing as you walk in the door.

"Artie" you say as he looks at you "y/n, please I just want to be alone right now" he says, you eyes become heavy "baby I'm on your side, let me in please" you say pleaing, George leaves you two to talk as he heads to his room "take all the time you need" he says as you smile at him; Arthur clutches at his knuckles, his anxiety was hitting a high, you rush over to him and grab him tight; he tries to resist but you squeeze him so hard if you squeezed any tighter you'd pop. When Arthur has the episodes, you use your body weight as an anxiety jacket, clutching him to shield him. "Please y/n" he grunts, wanting you to get off "Arthur you know I'm not hear to hurt you, just hug me back" you say he tries one more push but fails, he gives in and his arms lock around you. His body went from tense to soft almost immediately, his face sinks into your shoulder as he lets out a few sobs, you rub his head "let it out baby, let all the stress out onto me, I know you're trying your hardest and we're all here for you" your words wrap his heart like a bandaid, healing his ache. You both slide down to the floor as his emotions flood out of him, he was stressed, tired, run down and his brave facade had to fade at some point.

"I'm trying y/n, I really am" he sobs "I know baby, we all know, the comment was stupid and that's why I didn't answer it, you're making progress and the only people that matter are me and your friends" you see George poke around the corner as you wave him in, he kneels beside you both. "You're doing a great job pal, you've nothing to hold back when you're hear and you know that, y/n is in your corner 100% just like all of us" George says patting him on the back. You all have a small heart to heart as Arthur calms down, the stress radiates out of him with every little bit of release of words; communicating with you both about the stress. After a while you leave George, thanking him for letting you know he was here. You wave him goodbye as you go back to your flat, Arthur still puffy faced you link hands as you get to your home.

You walk inside and turn to him "I made casserole" you say smiling, he looks up at you with heavy eyes "Thankyou baby, I'm sorry" he looks at you with sad eyes "you have nothing to be sorry for artie, your feelings matter the same as anyone else's and I'm glad you could get it out, now let's eat and get tucked in bed, okay?" You say holding out your hand as he takes it with no hesitation. You finish your food as you place the bowls in the sink, you both scooch over to your room as you put on you pjs and put a Netflix series on. You sit up as Arthur burys his head in your chest. He lets out a big sigh of relief; "you okay?" You say stroking his curls "I'm fine now I've got you, you've really helped me throughout this and I can't Thankyou enough, even though I try to push you away" he says kissing your hand "I would never let you push me away, I know you don't mean to, we love you baby" you say kissing his forehead "you know, come to think of it, you're like my shot of espresso" he says sitting up, "how so?" You reply looking at him "you motivate me, put a kick in my step and make me feel..alive" he says cupping your cheek "oh artie" you say hugging him "I love you baby" you add on "I love you to pretty girl, thanks for being my rock" you smile into his shoulder.

-

🫶🏻

[write-tama]

I need more of Francis Mosses x reader fluff tbh and I enjoy reading some of your works with him so here's my request: Reader is stressed about life, college or something of your choice and needed some comfort from him 🥺🤎 thank you in advance aaahshqhs 😭 (tbh I don't see much sfw works of Francis on this app, maybe I'm not searching enough?)

"rest a little-- for me at least.."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ francis mosses x student!stressed!reader

sypnosis ; reader and francis have been hard at work trying to achieve their ultimate goals for the future. but lately, reader has been burning themselves out, and its up to francis to help realize how tired reader is.

containing ; exhaustion, reader is a college student, francis works double shifts, francis and reader are high school sweethearts (in this au anastacha is not his daughter), francis is worried about reader, TOOTH ACHING FLUFF RAGH

author’s note ; eee thank u anon! also dw, i also experienced the same problem trying to find sfw for francis 😭😭 its lowkey the reason why i had to crawl out of my hiatus hole LOL but ya really hope u enjoy :]

04.15.24 | 1.4k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Five shots of espresso from the cafe across the block could not fix how fucking exhausted you were.

You and Francis have been together since your highschool days. You have always dreamed of going to college to become a forensic scientist to work in the police force for super interesting crimes— but holy shit— were you tired from the projects and the essays.

You haven’t seen Francis in a few days either, despite living in the same apartment. He’s been working shifts in the morning and night just to make ends meet while also saving up for a house that you two could buy together. It was exhausting, but it was all a part of the plan. You worked a little side job as well delivering papers early in the morning just as a quick cash grab, but that also meant you barely spent mornings with your boyfriend. It’s not like you guys had the time anyway. He had to work in the morning too, which made it all the more frustrating.

After finally reaching your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes and threw your bag to the nearest corner before flopping down on the couch. A loud groan rumbled from your throat, finally giving your exhaustion a voice. You looked up from the couch, too tired to even turn on the TV. From the corner of your eye though, you saw in the kitchen a pot on the stove with a bright yellow sticky note on the top of it. Out of curiosity, you lifted yourself from the cushions with all your strength before heading towards the kitchen.

You waddled over to the pot with a curious tilt to your head as read the sticky note:

You left for work before I could tell you, but I’m coming off my shift early today and I’m not working tonight. Here’s some lunch I prepared this morning. Love you honey, get some rest. -Fran

Your grin stretched from ear-to-ear as you opened the lid to be welcomed with the smell of fresh spaghetti and meatballs. You turned on the gas stove to heat up the food, and used a clean wooden spoon to stir the food gradually. As you did, you couldn’t help as yawns escaped your mouth. You thought about taking a nap after your meal, seeing as how later today you needed to take some notes for an upcoming exam.

Your need for success never gave you the permission to give yourself a break every once in a while. In fact, the only times you did take a break was when Francis was sick and he needed someone by his side to take care of him. Other than that, you were always academically focused. Every once in a while, Francis would voice his opinion, telling you that you shouldn’t be burning yourself out so fast, but it was your determination and your vision of a perfect future with him that fueled you. Was this safe for your own mental health? Absolutely not. But you were aware of the consequences, and you pushed yourself anyway.

You felt your body grow increasingly heavy. You quickly jolted your head up, not even realizing that your eyes were fluttered close and you had stopping moving your spoon for a few seconds. You shook yourself awake, quickly grabbing a plate and helping yourself to a serving. You made sure to turn off the stove as well before throwing the spoon in the sink and grabbing a clean metal fork to enjoy your meal. It was best to hurry on and sit down before you became a danger to yourself.

You placed your food down on the coffee table before curling up on the couch. Maybe some TV would wake me up, you thought to yourself. You picked up the TV remote and browsed through the channels, eventually settling on a random game show that was airing live. Feeling a bit more energized, you placed a pillow in your lap before resting your food on top of it.

After each bite you felt your eyelids getting heavy. Your body started slowly giving in, despite your protests. The host’s voice soon turned into muffles as you felt your head nod a little. Each time you felt yourself falling, you immediately jolted up, not wanting to succumb to your body’s need for rest. What you really needed to do was to finish those essays and projects, and to also greet your loving boyfriend once he comes back from work. Your mind started dragging along little plans on how you would be able to accomplish everything before sleeping, but without realizing, your eyes had fallen closed as you leaned back in the couch.

Francis came back home about an hour later, tired from his work. As he placed his work bag down, he barely realized that your bag was set in the corner as well. “(y/n)?” He began to call out, but as soon as he turned around, he noticed your sleeping figure on the couch curled up with your pillow and food next to you. “Oh, (y/n)..” he mumbled, smiling a little in amusement. Francis walked over you, noticing the running TV and the half-eaten food. He first turned off the TV, making sure to not make too much noise to wake you up. He took your plate as well and covered it with a napkin before storing it in the fridge. Once Francis made it back to the living room, he sighed in relief, noticing that you still haven’t woken up. He rolled up his sleeves before carefully sliding his arms under your body, being as gentle as possible as he carried you to the bedroom.

“Mm..” You mumbled, half asleep. “Franci..?” You croaked out, burying yourself into his chest.

“Mhm..” He hummed. “I found you asleep on the couch.. I’m just moving you to the bedroom if you don’t mind..” He chuckled a little. You groaned a little in response, tugging a little at his button-down uniform.

“No..” you protested. “I have work to do.. I have projects due soon..”

Francis laid you gently down onto the soft mattress. You sat up a bit, realizing that you were still in your casual formal clothes you wore for school. You looked over to Francis, who had changed out of his work clothes, but kept his undershirt on and threw on some pajama pants. “Franci, can you—”

“Here you go.” You looked up, not even realizing that he was already handing you your midnight clothes. His tired eyes gazed upon you, but even then, his eyes were dilated with genuine care. You smiled up at him before taking the clothes and changing on the bed, throwing your clothes in a corner.

You sighed a little as you straightened out your shorts, looking down with a wearied face. “You know I need to get back to work.” You quietly muttered. Francis looked at you with a frown as he stood over the bed.

“You can’t just keep working day and night.” He lectured softly. You scoffed a little before looking at him, only to immediately falter to his puppy-eyed look. “Just rest with me this evening, please, dear?” He asked, folding his arms behind his back as he leaned down.

Your face heated up, flustered at how desperate Francis seemed to be just wanting to have a few minutes ago. You smiled softly before reaching up and caressing his face with your hand. “You know I hate it when you look at me like that..” You whispered.

“Well, it's the only way to get you to agree.” He mumbled back, sinking into your embrace. The two of you were locked in eye contact as Francis slowly climbed into the bed. His hands straddled either side of you as you leaned back against the headboard. Gradually, his lips pressed against yours, and immediately you melted. Your hands snaked around his neck, holding him as close as you could. His touch filled you with the warmth you longed for so long after drawn-out lectures and pressure-inducing assignments. All you wanted was him.

He wrapped your arms around your waist before resting himself on your chest— a sigh escaping his nostrils. “I miss this.” he muttered. “When was the last time we got to hold each other like this?”

You ran fingers through his hair, carefully tugging out knots. “Only heaven knows..” You whispered back. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled your ears as well as the occasional vehicle rushing down the road in front of your apartment complex. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed as Francis buried himself deeper into your embrace. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been a little difficult lately.” you apologized, feeling the guilt prick at your skin. “I’ve just been so stressed with school lately.. All I could think about is work and it's ruining us—”

“Please don’t apologize for that.” Francis was quick to cut you off. He lifted his head up and now sat up properly in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked at your gentle figure. “Please.. Just don’t. I understand you’ve been working so hard lately. I have been to. But this is all for our future, remember?” He grabbed your hand, holding it with both of his hands before kissing your knuckles. “Mmm.. I miss our evenings together too, I truly do, but what I’m concerned about is your wellbeing. You need to give yourself a breather every once in a while. At least promise me that.”

Your body felt weak with each work he uttered. Your head rushed with stars, remembering that its moments like these that make you want to work so hard. You want nothing but blessings for this man, because if anything, he was your savior. Tears pricked at your eyes, sniffling a little as you nodded your head.

“I promise..” You said in a shaky voice. A sincere smile curled Francis lips as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

Everything is going to be okay, you thought to yourself.

Everything is okay.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thats it! hope you enjoyed :3 sorry i procrastinated on this for a while im def gonna clutch on up writing after school ends (which is end of april). lowk so glad this bc ive been stressed w college work as well so rereading honestly felt SO comforting 😭😭 but anyway ya--

reblogs, likes, even replies are soso appreciated and i hope you enjoyed this story :]

[ryuyukawa]

─Warm Latte

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x reader

✦ Genre: Fluff?

★ Warnings: None

✦ Summary: With the thoughts that kept you up at night, you decided to call him. I guess you do have plans for the weekend now.

Note: This is a part 2 of cold espresso!! and thank you soo much for 60 notess on theree!! I hope you enjoy this one!!

The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, painting your apartment in pale, washed-out colors. You wake up with a weight on your chest, the events of yesterday replaying in your mind. Fidds’s words linger, the almost-confession hanging between you like a half-finished sentence. You sit up, staring at the empty space beside you, the silence of your apartment amplifying the doubts that creep in.

Was it real, or were you both just caught up in a moment? What if he changes his mind? What if this ruins everything? The ache of uncertainty is a familiar one, but this time, it feels sharper—more personal. You’re not just risking a friendship; you’re risking the one constant that has always been there, the person who knows you better than anyone else.

You try to shake off the thoughts as you drag yourself into the kitchen, but they cling to you like the bitter taste of stale coffee. You placed the kettle on the stove, boiling it; but even then, the comforting sound of brewing can’t quiet the unease bubbling inside you. With your coffee done, You pour half a cup of milk; you finished brewing your coffee. The steam swirling like your scattered thoughts, as you stare at the phone that was mounted on the wall. You had a thought, should you call him? The missed opportunity, the half-formed words, and the weight of unsaid things hang in the air.

Maybe he’s already moved on. Maybe you’re just overthinking everything like you always do.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the button. You know you should say something, but fear grips you, tightening around your chest like a vice. What if he doesn’t want to hear from you? What if he regrets opening up? The latte’s warmth does little to thaw the icy grip of doubt in your heart. You bring the cup to your lips, letting the heat seep in, but it’s not enough to push you to action.

Finally, you take a deep breath, holding the phone as you let your thumb dial his number before you can even change your mind. The phone rings, each chime echoing your own heartbeat, loud and uncertain. You count the rings—one, two, three—each one heavier than the last until you hear the faint click and Fiddleford’s voice breaks through the static, warm and familiar.

"Mornin’, darlin’," Fidds greets, his tone light but a bit tired, like he’s been up thinking too. There’s a slight rasp in his voice, the kind that makes you think he’s been pacing his garage, lost in thought, maybe even wrestling with the same doubts that kept you awake. "Didn’t think I’d hear from ya this early."

The sound of his voice soothes and stings at the same time. You can hear the way he’s trying to keep things casual, but there’s an undercurrent there—a weight that wasn’t there before. You clutch your cup tighter, feeling a rush of nerves. "Hey, Fidds. I─ I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing."

There’s a pause, just long enough to make you wonder if he’s regretting yesterday. You picture him in his garage, tools scattered, the faint smell of motor oil and burnt circuits clinging to the air. You’ve seen that space a hundred times, but now it feels like a sanctuary you’re intruding upon. You almost wish you hadn’t called—almost.

"Aw, I’m alright," he replies, but there’s a crack in his voice, barely noticeable. "Been tinkerin’ in the garage. You know me, always got somethin’ to keep my hands busy."

You smile at the thought of him, sleeves rolled up, grease on his hands, lost in the creation of some new invention. It’s so quintessentially him, the way he pours himself into his work when he’s trying to work through something. But today, even that image doesn’t bring the comfort it used to. You can hear it in his words—the same uncertainty, the same fear of messing things up that’s been gnawing at you.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. "I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday. About what you said… and what I didn’t get to say."

There’s another pause on the line, heavy and charged, and you feel your heart drop. What if he’s changed his mind? What if this is all too much too soon? You imagine him, fidgeting with a screwdriver or wiping his hands on an old rag, anything to keep busy, to keep from saying what he’s really thinking.

"I’ve been thinkin’ about it too," he finally admits, his voice softer, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. It’s almost like he’s laying his heart bare, showing you the parts he’s always kept hidden, even from himself. "Was worried maybe I said too much, maybe scared ya off. But, truth is, I don’t regret it. Not one bit."

The knot in your chest loosens just a little, and you swallow the lump in your throat. His admission is raw, real, and it hits you harder than you expected. "You didn’t scare me off, Fidds. If anything─ if I'm being honest, I’m the one who’s scared. Scared of losing what we have, scared of taking a chance and it not working out."

He sighs, and you can almost see him running a hand through his hair, frustrated but hopeful. "I get it. Hell, I’m scared too. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know, will we?"

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling the last bit of doubt start to melt away. "You’re right. And I don’t want to keep wondering. I want to try, Fidds. I want to see what this could be."

His soft chuckle warms you from the inside out. It’s the kind of laugh that used to fill late nights with the soft glow of desk lamps and the quiet hum of old music playing on his radio. "Well, shoot, darlin’, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. How ‘bout we make it official then? A real date. You and me, no holdin’ back."

The tension between you evaporates, replaced by a lightness that feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. The reality of his words sinks in, each one planting hope where doubt had taken root. You smile, glancing out the window as the morning brightens just a little more. "I’d love that. Tonight?"

"Tonight," Fidds repeats, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. You can hear the smile behind his words, and it sends a flutter through your chest. "How ‘bout we make it somethin’ special? Don’t gotta be fancy or nothin’, but, y’know… somewhere that feels right."

You pause, thinking about all the possibilities. There’s a nervous thrill coursing through you—picking the perfect spot feels like the first step into something real. "How about that little Italian place downtown? The one with the fairy lights and the outdoor patio? I’ve been wanting to try it for ages, and I hear the food’s amazing.."

Fidds hums thoughtfully, and you can almost picture the way his face lights up at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan, darlin’. I always knew you had good taste. Plus, can’t go wrong with some pasta and good company, huh?"

You laugh softly, feeling your nerves ease with his playful tone. "Guess not. I’m warning you though, I might order half the menu. I’ve been craving good Italian for weeks."

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, don’t you worry ‘bout that. I’ll keep up. Might even out-eat ya if we’re not careful. And hey, if it’s half as good as the company, I reckon we’re in for one hell of a night."

There’s a beat of comfortable silence before Fidds’s voice drops a little, more sincere. "Y’know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to this. Feels like we’re finally doin’ somethin’ we shoulda done a long time ago." His words tug at your heart, the weight of everything left unsaid still hanging between you. But there’s a new kind of hope there too, one that’s slowly outshining the fear. "Yeah… me too... I’ve always had a feeling that maybe we were just waiting for the right time."

"Guess it took us a while to figure that out, huh?" he says, a hint of laughter in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the emotion underneath. "But better late than never. We’re makin’ our own time now."

You feel a warmth spreading through you, a soft glow that makes the morning feel a little brighter. "I’m glad we are. I think… I think this is going to be good for us. No more ‘what ifs,’ just us, figuring it out together." Fidds’s voice softens, his sincerity coming through clearly. "Yeah. And whatever happens, I just want ya to know—I’m in this with ya. We’ll take it one step at a time, and if it ever feels like too much, we’ll talk it out. No pressure, no rush. Just us."

You smile, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. "Thanks, Fidds. I really needed to hear that. And don’t worry—I’m all in too."

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, his tone turning playful. "Alright then, tonight it is. Seven sound good? I’ll make sure to wear somethin’ that ain’t covered in grease, promise."

You laugh, the sound carrying the kind of joy that’s been missing for far too long. "I think you’d look good no matter what, but I’ll hold you to that. Seven it is."

"See ya tonight, darlin’," Fidds says, his voice light, but with an underlying current of something more—a promise, a new beginning. "We’re gonna have ourselves a real good time."

You hang up, feeling the anticipation bubbling up inside you. Tonight isn’t just another dinner; it’s the start of something new, something that’s been waiting in the wings for far too long. And for the first time in a long time, you feel ready.

What do you thinkk?? Good? Bad?? Tell mee!! Ive been thinking what to do with this one.. not as creative but i like it!

Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[ravencincaide]

Happy unhappy home!  

Summar: Soukou think you may be suffering from postpartum depression. Something you strongly disagree with. How dare they suggest you’re an incompetent mother and a threat to your children when they haven’t been around for months! Surely, they must have a different agenda behind their accusation? 

Pairing: New parents! Dazai x Chuuya x Fem! Reader!  (SKK x Fem! reader)

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 12: Chaste Kiss   

Warnings: Cursing, Postpartum depression, light hint at maternal filicide, angst and disappointment, angst

Author note: An independent part two for Desperate times call for Desperate measures. Check that fic out if you’d like more angst, new parents and see more of what happened before this scene! 

Enjoy  

______________________________________________________________

The alarm was ringing.  

It had been ringing for the past twenty minutes. A dull monotone sound that had reached its maximum amplitude sometime between minute five and eight, leaving the clock to just screech and nervously buzz closer and closer to the dresser's edge. Another loud ring followed by metallic duns as the clock jumped to its death off the bedside table, finally growing silent.  

Slowly you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, forcing your eyes open. You ran your hands over your face, heaving a heavy exhausted sigh. You were literally keeping your eyelids open with your fingers to prevent them from shutting and falling back asleep inside the hard spare bed in the shoesize room. You felt so-so drained and yet you had gotten a decent six hours of uninterrupted rest last night. Without Dazai or Chuuya craving your attention or bringing the twins to you when they became too much.  

Truly six hours of sleep was a miracle.  

Though now that morning came all you felt was a dull frustration. At that moment you did not know what was worse; the fact that you had to get up and face the day. Starting with preparing breakfast for the twins and your lovers, or the mild annoyance of having to go and buy yet another bloody alarm clock.   

At least the babies weren’t fussing. Yet.  

With great effort you dragged yourself out of bed and haphazardly put some day-old clothes on. Hair up in a bun while on the toilet and a quick wash of your face with cold water and you were ready to get started in the kitchen. You needed to put up coffee, blitz some fruit and think about a more adult-suitable breakfast. Porridge was hated by both Dazai and Chuuya but approved by the babies, while omelet was liked by no one but you. Yet another day of sandwiches was out of the option. That left you with pancakes. Glancing at the clock in the living room on your way to the kitchen, you hurriedly picked up your pace.  

Pancakes were doable- if you hurried up.   

Once you got to the kitchen you let out a low groan of frustration. The sink was full of bottles from the nightly feedings wedged between midnight snack dishes and crusty cups of coffee that had finally made their way out of your partner's room and into the kitchen sink. The espresso machine was demanding a new water filter, and you did not even want to think what the splotches and sticky mess on the counter and kitchen table were.  

For a second you didn’t know where to start- then as stress set in you felt your body come alive. You were practically tearing yourself between doing dishes, making the pancake batter and wiping the counter.  When the two non-stick pans on the stove were warming up, you ran the cleaning program on the espresso machine. Then as the pancakes fried, you wiped the table and blitzed fruit for the babies. You set up cups, cutlery and plates in between flipping the pancakes.  

Just as the first batch of pancakes were finished and the coffee machine was brewing the first cup, you heard the heavy shuffling of feet into the kitchen. You ignored them as you proceeded to whip up another batch of pancakes- realizing you made far too little to feed double black. Halfway through cracking the eggs, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.  

“You’re up early, Sweets” Chuuya yawned in your ear before placing a chase kiss on your shoulder.  

“Morning” you replied dryly, moving out of the embrace. You were fully focused on flipping the pancakes with one hand while mixing the batter with the second. “Coffee’s ready I think” you muttered, out of the corner of your eye watching a zombie looking Dazai reach for the hot cup, muttering a halfhearted morning and thanks in one breath.  

You heard Chuuya sigh heavily, disappointed, before going over to the coffee machine and brewing another cup. As the machine skimmed the milk and ground the beans, Chuuya got into a half bicker, half quiet discussion with Dazai about something. Not too long after, the two settled down at the table a few paces away continuing the hushed discussion.  

They didn’t even bother to ask- let alone step up to help you. Jerks.  

“Are you absolutely sure this is legit? And how the hell are we supposed to fill it in anyways” You heard Chuuya hiss at Dazai, making you turn your head in question towards them. You saw the two of them staring at what looked like a thick stack of papers between them- no doubt some kind of work-related report. Probably an evaluation of the new recruits or something. 

“ Of course it’s legit- I’m not an idiot like you.” Dazai stated matter of factly pointing something out on the sheets of paper with a half broken- half chewed on ink pen.  

“ Who the hell are you calling an idiot- you extra stuff that comes with bandages!” Chuuya snapped back but settled down the second he noticed your eyes on them.  

You felt your lips turn down in a frown as you flipped another bunch of pancakes: So, fucking typical. With them it was either work or the twins. While you were still just this ‘something’ that did everything around the house with little to no gratitude or help. Right then you felt like the extra stuff that comes with babies. A ghost- boggart- in your own home.   

You had just finished making pancakes when you heard a wail from upstairs. The babies had woken up. Instantly you turned off the stove: wiping your hands on a cloth you rushed upstairs to get the twins. After all, those picture-perfect fathers were not so perfect until after breakfast.  

You returned a few moments later, placing the babies in their highchairs. Then you put small bowls with mashed fruits in front of them in different cups. Yet another attempt at introducing solids into their diet. Then back to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later.  

“Here!” You dropped the two plates of pancakes in front of your so-called partners, not caring either about the loud clang the plates made against the wooden table, or the way the food slid off them. Or the way the twins clapped their hands in glee at the loud noise. You went back to the kitchen, moving things into the sink to make it easier to wash up later, while turning on the kettle for tea.  

A hot cup of chamomile or melissa tea sounded heavenly at that moment.  

Hearing the children's fuss, you abandoned both dishes and tea; rushing back towards the dining table, where Chuuya and Dazai mouths were stuffed with food. Their attention was divided between the stack of papers in front of them and the twins that were eagerly reaching for their fathers' pancakes. You felt another wave of irritation wash over you- a bitter kind of anger that you bit back before you said something you would regret. Instead, you fixed all of them with a warning look, making sure that neither Dazai nor Chuuya shared their breakfast with the twins. The last thing you needed that morning was to pull pancakes out of the children's noses.  

“Sweetheart, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Chuuya asked suddenly, sounding concerned as he watched you come closer to the table and take a seat beside the children.  

“I’m not hungry” you growled through squeezed teeth as you picked up the small plastic spoon and began trying to feed them mashed berries. After a few moments of screwed faces and the fruit going everywhere besides inside the children's mouth, you dropped the small spoon back into the colorful cup and looked up at the ceiling. You were blinking away tears of frustration. How fucking hard was this supposed to be? 

Not hard if you were to ask the pediatrician! 

“Here let me try Belladonna” Dazai gave you a small smile as he picked up the spoon you had carelessly dropped back into the mash.  With some exaggerated motions and airplane noises, the children ate the mash without any issue. As if Dazai was feeding them formulas from a spoon. Soon Chuuya joined him, wiping their mouths and then burping them once the twins were done.  

The sight warmed your heart, but it also made you feel self-conscious- a failure somehow. Why hadn’t you thought of doing that? Wasn’t it a mother's instinct to know what to do and how to care for her children?  To have an inseparable bond. And yet it seemed Dazai and Chuuya were somehow closer to the twins- despite the fact that you were the one who did the majority of the nurturing duties. Were you perhaps- not equipped to be a parent?  

The thought lingered in your head as they all finished breakfast. It lingered through the playtime with children and even as you put the twins down for their nap. When they'd wake up, you’d need to bathe them, then dress them and take them for a little time outside. And then–  

“-Belladona?” you snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed that Dazai had been talking and trying to get your attention for the past minute or so.  

“Oh sorry, what did you say?” You asked as you draped the covers over the snoozing twins and headed towards your partner who was lingering in the door of the nursery.  

Dazai flashed you a nervous smile, one of his hands in his hair, trying to make himself look less awkward. “A moment of your time dalin?” he repeated himself. You frowned, unsure why he’d suddenly ask for your time so formally. Then as you saw him shift under your gaze you felt your eyes widen with realization and nodded quickly, eagerly and followed him back to the living room.  

You sat down on the couch opposite your lovers, a hopeful feeling in your chest. They looked so nervous, bumping shoulders against each other, flickering eyes, silent motions for one or the other to start. To an outsider they would have looked like composed mafioso's- to you they looked like a bunch of nervous teenagers. You held back a giggle, the sight reminding you so much of when they first asked you to be with them- then once again when they asked you to start living together.  

You almost felt nervous yourself. And excited. And anxious. Were they really going to finally–?  

“Sweetheart there’s something we’d like to ask- no discuss with you” Chuuya started, clearly having lost whatever silent banter he and Dazai were having above your head. You felt the palms of your hands grow damp- sweaty. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Your mouth dry- your ears ringing. It was finally happening, wasn’t it? You could barely contain your grin: 

“ You both know I’d say YE–” “– we think you might have postpartum depression”  

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Ice cold dread washed over you; making dark dots play in your vision. The disappointment on your face was clear. It seemed to throw both of them off guard for a moment. Like they couldn’t understand what it was you were hoping for- what you were so eager to say yes to. It took a moment for your mind to register what Chuuya said- but you certainly regained your composure quicker than either of them.   

“What?!” You snapped, narrowing your eyes dangerously at the pair, daring them to repeat themselves. “What did you just say?” 

They didn’t answer directly: Instead, they made a motion towards the stack of papers that they had been fiddling with all morning. They were laid out on the small table between you. Postpartum Assessment sheet with a bunch of ticked off boxes. You didn’t know what made you feel more insulted- that they assumed you had postpartum depression or the fact that they assessed you behind your back instead of coming and talking to you.  

You scoffed in response  

“We think you might have postpartum depression– it’s not uncommon. Especially in young, first-time mothers and–” You flew up from your seat silencing Dazai’s voice instantly.  

“No you’re just saying that because You are not around. Either of you! so it's just fucking easier to blame all the shortcomings and inadequacy on me than look at your own failures!” You began pacing, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t believe it- that they could even think you were a threat to your own babies. To the children you birthed and raised and nurtured- stayed up nights and nights to care for. The ones you took to doctors and classes and sacrificed so much for. How fucking dare they even suggest that?! 

“ Sweetheart it isn’t..” Chuuya started. He had moved off the sofa and closer to you, hands reaching towards you, palms up. Something between an awkward attempt at a hug and reassuring you, he meant no harm.  

“No you’re right, it isn’t about that- is it? It’s cuz you want to take them away from me, right?! Want to take my babies away from me and start a partnership” Your eyes moved from Chuuya to Dazai who had remained awfully passive throughout your entire outburst. The fact that he was always absent with urgent work, then demanding Chuuya to come and help during missions suddenly made a lot more sense to you. 

Just like your bare ring finger.  

The thought stung. Instead of feeling anger however, you felt overwhelming sadness. A type of defeat that only came when you realized your own pitifulness- your own worthlessness. The naivety that those two would ever see you as their equal- a shared part of a whole. This realization left a bitter taste in your mouth; “You’ve gotten what you wanted- what you can’t create yourself- out of me and now you want to lock me up with a stamp of being incompetent? Forget it!”  

Chuuya gaped, his brain trying to come up with something that wouldn’t aggravate the situation further. He seemed to have an idea, a thought, but the words got stuck in his throat as your eyes went away from Dazai and back to him. 

Eyes full of icy fury.  

“I’m not giving them to you, not without a fight!” you snapped just as you heard the twins stirring. Their wails awakening a protective and possessive motherly instinct inside you. Without another word you brushed past Chuuya, bumping his shoulder purposefully on the way out of the living room.  

“That went brilliantly, simpleton” you heard Dazai’s voice but did not bother turning around as you headed upstairs to the twins. Out of the three of them you were the most competent to be a mother - a parent. If anyone was having ‘postpartum depression’ it was those two self-centered idiots.  

Going upstairs you picked the crying babies up and began pacing with them around the room, your mind still a jumbled mess as you pressed kisses to each of the twins' foreheads. God what were you supposed to do if they made you out to be so sick and incompetent, so you’d lose your parental rights and — and— you swallowed then shuddered as you heard your so-called partners yelling at each other downstairs. In panic you hurried to retreat to the safety of the bathroom.  

You made sure to lock the door, then barricade it.  

You took a step back from it, your heart in your throat. The children sensed your fear and wailed loudly in your arms. You shushed them quietly before going further into the bathroom. There you set the children down onto the floor only long enough to turn on the water in the bathtub in a feeble attempt to block out the bickering echoing from downstairs. You made sure the water was perfect temperature, then you hurried to pick the twins up and hugged them tightly to your chest, rocking backwards and forwards. The sound of your so-called partners' loud voices only fueled your fear and sadness. How dare they suggest you were incompetent. How dare they attempt to take these babies away from you. As if they’d be able to do a better job than you. To protect them from this cruel, cruel world! 

 No, you were not going to let Chuuya and Dazai take them away from you. Your twins- your joy. Your purpose in life.  But if they were truly serious about it– then you’d rather take yourself and your babies out of this world than risk putting them through the horrors of going even a day without their mother—.   _____________________________________________________ Update: Check out the next part A hit beyond rock bottom

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[artemis1214]

Kindergarten | Human Alastor One Shot

A small one shot with my OC where Alastor and her have a young daughter who is a bit....reckless.

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Disclaimer: I don't own this art, full credits to whoever made it!

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Prompt: Louisiana, 1935. Geneviève's first day of Kindergarten.  

Today was little Geneviève's first day of Kindergarten and Esme was fairly excited for her. Geneviève had always gotten along with her friend's children, so she had no doubt that today would be any different. 

Oh, but of course it was.

"Alastor!" Esme shouts walking in the door, "Hunny, we're home." 

He's in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on supper, when he hears Esme's voice calling out as. He smiles, wiping his hands on a towel before exiting the kitchen.

"Ah, welcome home, darling. And how was little miss’s first day at school?”

Geneviève pouts and stomps away heading upstairs. 

Esme sighs and puts down her bag. She walks to the fridge, opens it, and begins to take out some iced espresso from earlier that morning. She pours herself a cup. 

Alastor He watches as his daughter storms off with a pout on her lips, eyebrows raising in concern. He looks at Esme, confusion on his face.

"What happened? She seems to be in a bit of a mood.”

"She already has a problem with one of the kids." Esme huffs, taking off her shoes, "A little boy." 

He raises an eyebrow as he hears her words, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. He crosses his arms, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance.

"A problem with one of the boys, you say? What kind of problem? What's he doing? What's his name?”

"Okay now, calm down." Esme scoffs, taking off her coat, "Henry. He pulled her pigtails and she....” 

There's a long pause. 

“...well she smacked him." 

Alastor scoffs and chuckles, covering his face with his hand and turning away, 

“Heh….I-I - ha!...I'm sorry…” He laughs underneath his breath.

 He knew Geneviève had a feisty side, but the thought of her getting into trouble on her first day of school was a bit amusing to him.

“It's not funny, would you calm yourself?!” Esme shouts with a furrowed brow.

He clears his throat and stands up straight. 

"Mmm, alright, alright, I'm calm. I'm calm. So she smacked the little varmint, eh? Good for her. He deserved it, pulling her pigtails like that.”

Esme rolls her eyes, "Alastor it's kindergarten, she can't be going smacking around kids." She walks over and puts her purse down. "He probably has a crush on her or something, I don't know.”

"Oh, I know, I know. I shouldn't encourage her to solve her problems with violence. But the little bastard had it coming, pulling her hair like that. So what if he has a crush on her?”

Esme laughs, "I take it you never pulled a girl's pigtails." 

He can't help but smirk at her deposition. He throws his arms up in a shrug 

"Ah, you got me there. I guess I was just never the type to pull pigtails. I was more the type to...well, be a bit of a lone wolf, I suppose. Stayed alone for most of it.”

"We can't have her being violent, Alastor." Esme walks over to him and wraps her arms around his neck, "Talk to her? You are her father after all." 

He nods and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close. He sighs, a mixture of concern and resignation on his face.

"Ah, alright, I'll talk to her.” He begins to walk to the stairs, pivoting before his foot makes connection with the step, “But I'm just gonna say, the boy is damn lucky I'm not the one who caught him messing with her.”

Esme laughs and shakes her head watching him go up the stairs. Her eyes land on the pot shimmering on the stove. She opens the lid and peers inside to see it's a seafood boil, her favorite! 

She looks behind her shoulder to make sure he's not there, turns back, and sneaks one of the shrimp out of the pot. 

When she turns around she jumps at a black mist hissing at her. 

“Oh, killjoy!” She sneers, plopping the shrimp back inside the pot. 

~ Upstairs ~ 

Geneviève is upstairs in her room facing her long mirror. She has small tears leaking from her eyes as she rubs her head and pulls on her pigtails. 

There's a small knock on the opened door and Alastor leans against the doorframe watching her. 

“Hey firefly, mind if I come in?” 

Geneviève sighs and walks over to the door, looking up at him. "I don't wanna go back..." She mumbles.

He enters the room and closes the door behind him, his expression sympathetic as he sees her pouty face. He walks over to her and gently touches her shoulder.

"I know you don't want to go back, sweetheart. But not going doesn't solve anything. Come here, sit down.”

She walks over with her arms crossed and sits down next to him on the bed.

He sits down next to her, putting a comforting arm around her and pulling her close. He sighs softly as he looks at her, seeing the pout on her face.

"Now, what happened at school? Your mother told me that you smacked a little boy who pulled your pigtails. Is that true?”

Geneviève nods and looks up at him, "Henry.”

He nods and sighs, a mix of frustration and annoyance on his face. "Yeah, your mother mentioned good ol’ Henry. And he pulled your pigtails? Made you mad, huh?”

Geneviève eyes narrow and she nods again. 

He can't help but smirk at the look on her face, knowing she's inherited his fierce side. He ruffled her hair playfully and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Ah, there's that firecracker spirit of yours. But you can't go around smacking boys just because they pull your pigtails, cher. We have to handle things in a better way."

Like slicing through their throats and making a nice roast. Oooh a pediatric porkchop if you will!~

There's a pause, until Alastor looks down at her and smirks, "But, between you and me, I'm proud of you." He says, giving her a nudge.

"Really?" Geneviève asks, looking up at him with wide, innocent, eyes.

He smiles widely and nods, his expression beaming with happiness as he looks down at her. 

"Yeah, really. It takes guts to stand up for yourself like that, even if it's not the best way. But don't tell your mother I said that, alright? She'll start lecturing me and whatnot.”

He chuckles and gives her a wink, but then his expression turns serious, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

"But..." Alastor pauses, "If that boy puts his hands on you again.." He leans down and puts a hand on the tip of her Mary Jane shoe, "I want you to take this part of your foot and kick him right here..." He places a hand on her shin, "Hard." He instructs. 

"But don't tell your mother I said that." He grins proudly.

Geneviève take a moment to listen to him before a mischievous smirk appears on her face and she nods happily. 

He grins at her smirk, knowing he's a terrible influence, but also feeling a small sense of pride in teaching her how to defend herself.

"Good girl." He says, patting her on the head. "Now, no telling your mother, alright? This is our little secret.”

Geneviève nods, but pauses, "Am I in trouble?" She asks softly.

"No, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. But that's mostly because your mother doesn't know that I'm secretly proud that you smacked the little boy."

He lets out a small chuckle before continuing, his expression turning serious once again.

"You're my pal, right? I can trust you?”

Geneviève makes a zipper motion over her lips and crosses her heart. She nods frantically with a big smile plastered on her face. 

His smile. 

"I knew I could count on you. Now, let's go eat before your mother thinks we're up to something.”

~ Back Downstairs ~ 

"Alastor, you really outdid yourself with this broil hunny." Esme smiles. She turns to Geneviève, "Did Daddy and you have a good talk?" 

Geneviève nods and sits at the table, "Yes, mommy." 

"What about?" Esme asks

Alastor walks over to the stove, preparing himself a bowl of his creation. wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

"Oh, just a little father-daughter bonding, nothing important.~” 

He flashes a cheeky grin, giving Geneviève a playful wink.

~ Two Days Later ~

Alastor is in the shower, preparing for another day down at the station.  He lets the hot water cascade over him, rinsing away the stress of previous days of the week. He stands there under the water stream, blissfully unaware of what's going on outside.

Esme is downstairs sweeping the floor and finishing up her household chores before she has to go pick up Geneviève from school. The home phone rings and she puts down her broom.

She walks over to the phone and picks it up, "Hartfelt residence~" She chimes. There's a pause before her eyes go wide and she begins stammering, "Y-Yes this is she. W-Well are you sure it was her - I understand ma'am.  O-Of course, we can be there right away. Okay, goodbye." She hangs up the phone and takes a deep exaggerated sigh before, 

"ALASTOOORR!!!!" She screams furiously.

Upstairs, the sound of water from the shower stops, and a few moments later, Alastor's voice calls down from the bathroom.

"WHAT?!”

"YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" 

He lets out an exasperated sigh and shuts off the shower before wrapping a towel around his waist. He heads out of the bathroom and descends the stairs, a slight frown on his face, with his curls still dripping over his forehead

"What is it, darling? What's got you yellin' like a banshee?”

"Tell me why our daughter just got into another fight with that boy again! She gave him a black eye, Alastor! Said her daddy said she wasn't in trouble." She crosses her arms and taps her foot furiously. 

He freezes in his steps, the realization of what she just said sinking in. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Dammit..."

He pauses before continuing, “I can explain, but you may want to s-” 

"No!" Esme shouts, "I can't sit down because we have to go pick up our daughter WHO HAS A BUSTED LIP MIGHT I ADD!" She furiously stomps and grabs her purse, "Get dressed, damn you!" 

“Alright, alright, I'm goin'. Give me a minute."

He quickly retreats back upstairs to get dressed. He changes into a simple shirt and trousers before heading back downstairs to join her. 

"For God's sake Alastor..." She mumbles as they head out and walk to the school. 

He follows her outside, deep in thought. 

Well the little prick got what was coming. She did it, she really did it heh! Heh, if only I could've seen it. 

But she…oh damn she's mad alright. 

"Look, dear," he finally speaks up, trying to keep his tone calm, "I know you're upset, but just hear me out.”

"Hear you out about a boy with a black eye and our daughter with a busted lip?" She glares at him, picking up speed.

He quickens his stride to keep up with her.

"I know it looks bad, I admit. But hear me out here. Our little firecracker didn't start the fight, alright? The boy was picking on her, pulling her pigtails and being a little git.”

"Why don't we just give her a knife and start her off on the family hobby early." She hisses as they approach the school 

"Easy, now. I know you're upset, but keep your voice down, for christ sake. We're in public."

He looks around, making sure nobody could overhear her outburst. He lowers his voice to a whisper.

"Listen, I never said I wanted Geneviève to be violent, alright? I just taught her that she has the right to defend herself if someone messes with her. That's all.”

Esme doesn't say anything as they walk up the steps to the school. She motions Alastor to open the door, and she walks inside. 

Geneviève is sitting on a bench in the lobby, a bloody mark on her lip, and her hair tousled.  

The two hurry over. 

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks, bending down to her level. 

"Does she look alright?" Esme hisses. The principal comes out with two other parents and a little boy with a black eye. 

"Oh so you're the mother of this monster!" The mother shouts. 

"Excuse me?" Esme takes a step forward. 

Alastor stands up quickly and steps in between Esme and the other mother, trying to keep the situation from escalating further. He puts on a calm, charming smile. 

"Now now, ladies, let's all calm down here and talk like civilized folk, alright? No need for name-calling.”

"No name-calling?" The father chimes in, "Take a look at my boy!”

He turns to face the father, the smile still pasted on his face. But his tone is cool and level when he responds.

"Aww now, your boy is fine, ain't nothin' wrong with him a little ice can't fix. Right, chap?” He grins menacingly at the boy. 

"Your son picks on my daughter everyday!" Esme shouts. 

The mother scoffs, 

"Picks on her? All my boy does is tease her a little. Nothing more than a little harmless fun!”

"Pulling her hair is harmless fun?" Esme retorts. "Want me to pull yours?" 

“It's child's play, a little roughhousing.” 

"Ah well, consider your boys black eye to be just that - a little roughhousing." Esme sneers.

The principal steps in, "Now, this is getting out of hand. We heard from Geneviève that she was instructed by her father to hit Henry if needed." 

Esme turns to Alastor with a glare.

Alastor's heart sinks at that statement. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass. He tries to downplay it with a smile and a nervous chuckle.

"Ah, well now...that's not entirely accurate-”

"But Daddy you said..." Geneviève pipes in. 

SHUT UP! 

He shoots Geneviève a dark glare, her body immediately tensing, before turning his attention back to the principal.

"Now hold on a second, see what she's saying is true, but she's leaving out important conte-”

The principal interrupts him, looking unamused,

"And what context is that, Mr. Hartfelt”

"That boy torments my daughter everyday and she comes home looking like a mess. I taught her that she had the right to defend herself.”

"That still doesn't justify her actions, Mr. Hartfelt. In fact, we have witnesses that say your child was the one who threw the first punch.”

Alastor's eyes widen and both him and Esme nearly snap their necks to look at Geneviève.  

She gasps and looks away from her parent's eyes. 

“...shit.” She whispers.

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If you want more one-shots with Human Al and my OC, read below!

[anarchiii]

Lighten up all those shadows-1 —ACOTAR AU

Part One | warnings: fluff? Angst? | Azriel x Gwyn

Summary; All her roommates had always been lazy and rude, that was, until she met Azriel, fell for him.

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist

Gwyn’s POV

She nudged open the front door with her hip, keys hanging from her mouth while both her hands carried boxes, the sight that greeted her was barren, or as empty as a fully furnished floor could be, not a single picture frame or pillow, no trinkets or little touches, barren. That would definitely not do.

A door on the other side of the room as open, walking in, there was only a simple double bed and an oak desk and dresser In the room, the person she was now sharing this apartment with was apparently not a designer, there wasn’t even curtains covering the windows, disgraceful.

It seemed Gwyn had a lot of redecorating to do, whether the other inhabitant of this household appreciated it or not.

-

Three hours later and she was finished, blue bedding and rug, and cobalt curtains—which her friends had insisted she pack even though she had stated that there would be no need of them—remind her to listen to her friends more often. Gwyn had no idea what she would do without them. Speaking of, she placed a photo frame of them on her desk, all three of them wearing goofy smiles, Emerie’s glasses slightly askew and Nesta’s braces shining with her every smile.

She heard the front door freak open and decided to investigate, walking into the room, Gwyn came face to face with single-handedly the most beautiful man she had ever seen, his whiskey eyes flicking to her instantly, his fluffy onyx hair—that she oh so wanted to run her fingers through—strewn about. The man frowned. Glaring at her, what was that about? “Can you move? My bedroom is in that direction,” he said flatly, how rude, she crosses her arms and glared straight back at him, he scowled, she smirked. Two could play that game.

He seemed to realise she wasn’t giving up so he just sighed and walked around her, Gwyn did not notice that his scent was of Night chilled mist and Cedar and leather, not at all, neither did she notice that he walked with a unnatural grace or that tattoos peaked out from the sleeves of his very tight black shirt.

His shoulder bumped into hers as he walked past, she knew he did it on purpose, to see how riled up she could get from the simplest thing, “asshole,” she muttered, though she couldn’t be certain, Gwyn swore she saw him smiling, his tired eyes lighting up as he entered his room, closing the door surprisingly softly.

-

Gwyn woke up to the sounds of the kitchen, clinking of glass, crackling of the stove, draws opening, ect. She groaned as she got up. Nearly falling out of the bed onto the floor, she sat there for a moment before the delicious smell of food flooded her senses, she slid into her slippers and padded to the kitchen, nearly slipping when she beheld the sight.

There he was, shirtless, cooking pancakes and squeezing oranges into juice, and holy Mother— his muscles were gorgeous, he looked like a god made man, for a second. She thought she was drooling. Especially when those whiskey eyes landed on hers, she could almost make out specs of green in them but she would have to get closer— “what?” He said, oh shit, did she say those embarrassing things out loud? He looked positively delicious but that didn’t mean she wanted to tell him that.

He was staring at her incredulously and she had half the mind to look somewhere else, suddenly finding the espresso machine to be far more interesting, was she blushing? Surely she was beet red by now, Gwyn wanted to shrivel up and die from the way he was still staring at her, perhaps if she prayed enough to the Mother a hole would open up in the floor and it would swallow her up. But that was wishful thinking.

He seemed to realise he was staring and turned around, flipping the pancakes, she grabbed two plates and glasses before pouring the juice into the cups, Azriel putting all the food onto their respective plates before flicking off the stove and leading her to the horribly bland table.

Gwyn didn’t dare make eye contact with her roommate as she uttered out a ‘thank you’ and started pouring maple syrup onto her food.

They finished breakfast in silence and then left, Azriel seemingly going to work and her a nearby cafe to study.

-

Yawning, she made her way back to the apartment, her keys jingling, she unlocked the door, immediately met with the sounds of a football game coming from the Tv and the sound of very-male laughter along with the clinking of drinks, she wandered over to the noise, immediately spotting Azriel sipping from a Beer as he shouldered the guy next to him, the very handsome guy with long black hair tied into a bun with a subtle stubble lining his jaw. Next to him. Was another gorgeous guy, this one more elegant than rugged, his short black hair combed back, wearing a slightly rumpled suit.

She met eyes with Azriel, his expression immediately changing into a cringe at the attention, the other men didn’t seem to notice her presence as they yelled at the Tv, but he did, Azriel seemed to always do that, he got up, dusting off chip crumbs from his pants before standing in front of her.

He nodded his head in the direction of her room and didn’t say anything as they made their way to the room, once inside, he closed the door, turning to her, “I’m sorry,” he started, “I should have told you people were coming over,” sorry? What on earth could he be sorry for? “It’s fine, Azriel. Really, it didn’t bother me at all, you’re allowed to have company,” she said softly, his expression was still pained but lightened ever so slightly. “I—I’ve had a lot of a roommates before all I don’t know why but they all had something against me, yelling at me for the smallest things, I kinda stuck with me, y’know?” She nodded her head again. Who could ever do such a thing? And Azriel seemed like such a sweetheart. . .

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, “don’t worry about it, go, be with your friends,” she said, squeezing his hand once more for emphasis, he gulped, looking down at their hands, he didn’t say anything more before walking out of the room, leaving her with her own wondering thoughts.

The End.

Note: for my lovely friend, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, I hope you enjoy this series.

-Taglist

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@azrielslittleslut

@shadowsingercassia

[the-ghost-in-your-walls]

incorrect quotes with the Nektons because i have nothing better to do

Ant: *pitches an idea*

Kaiko, impressed: Huh, there might be something here!

Fontaine, under her breath: Yeah, a lawsuit.

(in college)

Kaiko: I just want someone to take me out.

Will: On a date?

Dolos: With a sniper gun?

Kaiko: Either one. I’m not picky.

Will: Damn, the power went out.

Ant: Don’t worry, I got this.

Ant: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

Will: What-?

Ant: I swallowed a glow stick!

Will, freaking out: WHY WOULD YOU-

Random person: How has life been treating you lately?

Ant: Horribly. 

Ant: Thanks for not telling mom and dad what happened.

Fontaine, dumbfounded: I wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to explain this

Random person: But seriously, what is the real plan here that has to do with not fucking around?

The Nektons: There is no plan that does not involve fucking around. But we will make sure all of our fucking around will be applied in a constructive direction.

Commander Pyrosome: What do you call disobeying the law?

The Nektons: A hobby.

Commander Pyrosome: *crosses her arms*

The Nektons: That we do not engage in.

Ant: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

Devil Daniels: Aren’t you gonna say ‘have a nice day’?

Kaiko: I don’t care if you have a pulse, much less a nice day

Will: Wake up! The sun is shining!

Kaiko: What do you want me to do, photosynthesis?

(after Dolos tried to sabotage a mission but really fucked up)

Kaiko: Everyone, calm down! We're grown-ups, let's deal with this like adults!

Will: So, we're just going to wing it and hope for the best?

Kaiko: Obviously. Now, Dolos, pass the shovel.

Ant: A person can really hear themselves think out here.

Ant’s mind: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked!? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!?

Ant: Well, that was a mistake.

Ant: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

Will: You've been given a new job to do, but I'm worried it might make you angry.

Kaiko:  Just say it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

Will: You have to teach Ant how to drive.

Kaiko: ...put the band-aid back on.

(in college)

Kaiko: In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too.

Kaiko: What do you two have to say for yourselves?

Fontaine:

Ant: Oops?

Ant: What's your greatest fear?

Kaiko: Being forgotten.

Ant: ...

Ant: Damn, that's deep.

Ant: Mine is the Kool Aid man, but I feel kinda stupid about it now…

[satomatto]

. //SOFT PACK | nutrition; NSFW!vers

ch: suguru geto; nanami kento; okkotsu yuta; sukuna ryomen.

cw: cannibalism mentions; daily routine, for the most part; something about Okkotsu's preferences been in the fanbook (I guess), but it's not considered here.

wc: 900

GETŌ SUGURU

Suguru is the kind of person who prefers a diet of healthy food. At least, it's definitely a big part of his menu, and even if you're not one of the health-conscious types, your own diet will surely be much more balanced than it was before.

Usually, he rarely cooks, but if a man sees you standing at the stove, he will approach you and definitely offer his help. He'll do his best to help you in any way he can, whether it's with household chores or the daily grind. Geto likes to see your gratitude, and at the same time, he doesn't like it when you overstretch yourself.

Sometimes they bring you breakfast in bed. With notes left on top - a kind of apology if for one reason or another he can't make it to spend the morning with you, if you've already had time to plan it; or just very cute reminders of today's chores that you shouldn't ignore.

Geto is excellent hand with knife. You can ask him to carve anything, and you can be sure he knows how to do it right. If you hear something along the lines of "sorry, I can't," you can be sure he can, but he doesn't want to. He rarely will refuse you, so he's probably just too tired for that, but on days like this, you just order take-out from a nice cafe nearby.

NANAMIN

As we already know, Nanami is actually a schedule man. You can say goodbye to quick bites and unhealthy snacks while you go. In the morning you will be waited for an appetizing breakfast, for lunch you will get both first and second, and from dinner you can't refuse in principle - it looks too delicious.

He likes his coffee strong and sugar-free. In particular, double espresso or cappuccino, but will not refuse and sweetened latte, if you suddenly want to prepare a drink for him. By the way, he's a great coffee maker. And you're in luck - because you can drink it every day.

He's a stickler for a relatively healthy lifestyle - due to his experience, capabilities and the cost of a whole bunch of health-related services. Treatment is expensive nowadays, and maintaining your condition is not only more profitable, it's easier. No, it doesn't mean he's not ready to spend money on going to clinics, Kento is just a practical man who doesn't like unnecessary movements - it's much easier to prevent a situation than to deal with the consequences.

Speaking of sweets: the man doesn't like them on principle, preferring to have a light salad once instead of munching on an extra bun, which you don't quite agree with him on. After all, he can't force you to give up junk food, but he's not going to just watch you do it. Most likely he will give a lecture about the proper diet of a healthy person and offer to share a salad with him.

You're not going to say no to him, are you?

OKKOTSU YUTA

Oh, this is so hard to deal with. The poor guy just doesn't have time to eat properly - he's really busy and barely knows how to plan his time, almost always rushing off to an emergency task at the first call. At times he hasn't even had time to sit down at a meal in the morning because of a sudden phone ring, just grabbing a random piece off his plate and munching it on his way out.

Throughout the day, he eats mostly snacks or fast food on his own, but you're a different matter. You rarely cross paths, but as soon as the opportunity presents itself, you go to a cafe or diner with a proper menu. He doesn't want you to kill your stomach with ramen, like him, and you want to feed him good food accordingly. And he'd rather have a nice bland dish from there than any fast food.

This guy isn't much of a cook, but he can whip up something good if you have a recipe and detailed instructions on how and what to add. You like the food he makes - he's usually pretty good at it, and when you get the chance, you even do it together.

Yuta loves fish dishes. Whether it's surimi, sashimi, or even odori, seafood is his passion. Not that you share it, but you taste a lot of it with him. Another fun fact is that you can feed him almost anything - he won't complain, even if it's a badly burned bean that's been in an old frying pan, fried in chicken broth. After all, you've worked hard for him - how can he reject your concern when he looks right into your glistening eyes?

RYŌMEN SUKUNA

Let's start with the fact that he's some kind of king, but he's a king and has his own servants. They do the cooking, but he'll also be pleased if you decide to make something for him. His food preferences fluctuate between oily and neutral foods, but mostly what we know is human meat.

That doesn't mean he'll decline a light side dish you've prepared. Just, expect that to please him you'll have to adjust to his demands. Yes, it's hard to cook human meat, but you can make a little effort for him, right?

Just because he has cooks in the kitchen instead of him doesn't mean Sukuna is a bad cook or can't cook at all. He's very good at it. In fact, you once tasted a dish made by him, and it was really damn good. High standards have been set for a reason and woe betide anyone who can't meet them.

The man has food-related kinks. Even the affectionate nicknames sometimes sound like he wants to eat you - from morsel to sweetie, from his lips sounds like an assault (that's what it is) on your body, soul and sweet, empty head.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Chay takes his first sip of beer under Macau’s careful guidance when the last guest walks in, and the horrible taste of it combined with the sheer shock of the third cousin means most of it ends up sprayed down his shirt, and all eyes are on him as he coughs and desperately gasps for breath, and Chay wants to die. 

Because Macau’s cousin? Is Wik. Wik. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He manages to wheeze, while Macau laughs and thumps on his back. 

“What, you’re a fan?” 

Chay can’t very well say yes, seeing as Wik is right there, ten feet away, watching him with mounting annoyance as if he already knows the answer. Of course he does. And of course he wouldn’t want Chay anywhere near him, his family, on what is supposed to be a private vacation. God, what was Macau thinking, bringing him here?

“Who are you,” Wik asks. His voice is dry enough that Chay feels parched. He can breathe again, and he clutches his beer to his chest like a shield, and not like the thing that almost killed him a second ago. Or maybe that was Wik. Either way, Chay is in danger. 

“Our virgin sacrifice,” Macau says, because apparently once wasn’t enough. “This is Porchay, he’s my friend, don’t be an asshole. Chay, this is my loser cousin, Kim. Who, yeah, is also kind of famous, I guess. Don’t make it weird.”

“Hello,” Porchay says weakly. “I, uh… I really like your music.”

“Thanks.”

Chay feels a strong urge to apologize—and offer to leave right then and there, even if it means calling Porsche to drive the three hours to get him—but he doesn’t get the chance. Wik—Kim—is gone just as fast as he'd appeared, taking his guitar case with him. Strangely it isn’t any easier to breathe in his absence. 

“You’re an asshole,” Chay informs Macau. “You planned that, didn’t you?” His best friend’s shit-eating grin informs him that yes, he had. 

“Dude, your face! I thought you were going to die!”

“I wanted to! That’s so messed up! He’s going to think I’m, like, stalking him, or something.” 

“Nah, probably not. Seriously though, don’t be too weird, or he might kill you.”

Nevermind that, Chay might kill himself. How is he supposed to get through the next two weeks? 

***

Out of respect, Chay does his very best to avoid Kim and stay out of his way. He doesn’t know if the older boy notices, because of the aforementioned avoidance, but he hopes so. He wants Kim to know he’s trying. That he isn’t here to creep on him, that he isn’t one of those psycho fans. Yeah, Chay has a little bit of a shrine at home, but all of the pictures on his wall are from professional photoshoots. No paparazzi photos or creepshots from other fans. Nothing from his personal time. Chay isn’t like that. He doesn’t want to intrude. He just wishes he could explain himself. 

The opportunity comes the next morning. Chay is awake before anyone else; he kicks around in bed for a while, then goes to Macau’s room across the hall, but he’s still fast asleep. Chay isn’t comfortable enough to go explore, but eventually his stomach drives him in search of the kitchen. It’s massive, borderline industrial, and fully stocked to feed an army. It’s ridiculous. 

Chay is cracking eggs into a pan when he hears another set of footsteps, seconds before he’s greeted by Kim’s handsome, scowling face. He must have just rolled out of bed; he’s wearing soft-looking lounge clothes, barefoot, and his hair is just messy enough that it could be intentional, if not for the softness around his eyes. Softness that disappears as soon as they land on Chay. 

“... Good morning,” Chay greets, with an awkward smile. He turns back to the stove, trying to communicate I’m not watching, just ignore me. It must work, because rather than turn back the way he came, Kim joins him in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” is all he says, and Chay is content with that. 

There’s a fancy-looking espresso machine at its own coffee station. Kim takes up his post in front of it, grinding down coffee beans and pressing them into the filter. He takes down two small glasses and sets them beneath. Soon, the rich scent of fresh coffee fills the kitchen, the espresso machine's pop and hiss accompanying the sound of frying eggs. 

“Do you want me to make you something?” Chay offers, not turning around. 

“No.” 

Kim doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Chay. He chews on his bottom lip until his breakfast is finished, and he plates his eggs on a pile of sticky rice. 

This might be my only chance. 

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. By being here, I mean,” Chay starts. “I swear I had no idea when Macau invited me. He said he was just coming here with his cousins. I-I wouldn’t have agreed. If I knew. I promise.” 

Kim turns to face him fully, leaning back against the counter. Chay fidgets beneath the weight of his gaze. “Really?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he believes Chay one way or the other. 

“Yeah, yes, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m obviously,” he waves his hand between them, “You know, but like. You’re with your family. That’s not my business… Or anyone else’s,” he adds, trying to reassure Kim he isn’t going to tell anyone about anything that happens on this trip, without saying that outloud and reminding him it was ever a risk in the first place. 

“Hmm.” 

Please believe me. Even if they never see each other again—Chay will leave right now if Kim tells him to, he’ll figure it out—he needs Kim to believe this. That Chay isn’t another vulture trying to take more of him than Kim is willing to give, as if it’s something he’s owed just because he’s a fan. 

“Porchay, right?” Chay nods. “How do you know my cousin?” 

“We go to school together.” 

Kim looks at him doubtfully. Chay’s face goes hot, and reminds himself what Porsche told him before he left; just because they’re rich doesn’t mean they’re better than you, don’t forget that. 

“I’m, uh, I’m there on scholarship.”

“Really? That’s not an easy scholarship to get.” No kidding. Chay took a summer prep course for the entrance exam and that alone was almost too much. The exam itself nearly made him pass out. “What was your score?”

“Uh… One hundred percent.”

“Bullshit.” 

Chay flushes, equal parts embarrassed and something slightly less than angry. “They made me take it twice. The proctors thought I cheated the first time.” He didn’t. He’d spent the entire summer studying, because Porsche told him this is what he needed to do for his future. To make their parents proud. Chay never knew their parents; he just wanted Porsche to be happy, and to repay him for being such a good brother. 

“And you got the same score?”

“... Ninety-eight percent, the second time.” He was terrified, and that meant he made mistakes he wouldn’t have otherwise. 

“Still nearly perfect.” Kim regards him carefully, his head tilted, and Chay is too incensed to properly appreciate the flex of Kim’s bare arms across his chest. “Interesting.” 

Chay thinks that maybe, from anyone else, interesting might have meant impressive. 

Kim turns his back on him again, then, leaving Chay to eat his now-cold breakfast while he finishes his coffee. Neither say anything else. It’s painful in a way silence always is for him—to Chay, silence means loneliness, means sitting at home and waiting for his brother to walk through the door, bloody and beaten, or it means hiding from debt collectors—but Chay refuses to break it again. 

He also refuses to look at Kim, which is why he startles when a porcelain cup is set down in front of him with a delicate clink, a cappuccino with delicate-looking latte art and a dusting of cocoa powder. He looks up and Kim’s back is already to him again as he finishes making his own coffee. He cleans the espresso machine, puts away his tools, and leaves without another word, no doubt in search of a better refuge to enjoy his morning coffee, without Chay breathing down his neck. Even though Chay already wasn’t doing that. 

Whatever, it’s not like it matters. 

Chay picks up his latte. He’s a little bit mad at how good it is, blooming rich and smooth on his tongue, and not overly sweet. 

Like Kim, he thinks, glowering into the milk foam. 

[hotmessmaxpress]

(I wrote a scene where Bezz and Marc talk about how they’ve never really had omega friends before 🥺) <-- if you don't mind could you possibly share that?

Ask and you shall receive 🫡

Getting acclimated to Vale’s pack is an adventure for Marc. He has never been part of a pack with a true pack omega, and he spends days and weeks adjusting to the idea of it.

Even after he and Marco have reconciled, it’s fascinating to him. Marco seems to think the relationship he has with the team is totally normal, but Marc is sometimes startled by the comfortable way Marco seems to interact with all of the alphas in the team. It’s unfamiliar to him to see an omega who is so comfortable.

Marc is drinking his coffee and munching on a cornetto, quietly minding his business in the kitchen, when Marco enters and mindlessly tucks himself up against Vale, who is standing at the stove. Vale presses a kiss against his forehead and Marco makes his way to Migno where he’s trying not to break the finicky espresso machine. He does the same routine, scenting the other alpha. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it.

Marc watches him closely, and flushes when Marco finally looks up at him. Marc holds a hand out and Marco makes his way toward the other omega. He scents him too, and then plops down on the bench next to him.

“What?” Marco asks.

“What?” Marc repeats.

“You were staring.”

Marc laughs.

“I’ve never been around a pack omega like you before.” Marc watches as Marco looks hurt, and he shakes his head and waves his hands. “No, no. I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just… it’s sweet.”

Marco laughs, running a hand across his hair.

“Thank you?”

Marc smiles at him.

“I’m glad you’ve given me a chance,” he says, genuinely. “I’m happy to be part of your pack, not just to be Vale’s mate.”

Marco looks at him with his mouth a shocked little “o”. Then he throws himself at Marc and tucks his nose against his jaw.

“Me, too,” Marco says, muffled against Marc’s neck. “I’ve never been this close with an omega that’s not my mother.”

Marc laughs. There are very few omegas in MotoGP, unfortunately, and when you grow up in that world it can be lonely. He himself has never really been around omegas either, aside from Santi and his own mother.

Marc is so endlessly thankful for this. When his bond with Vale failed he had made peace, more or less, with the idea of dying unmated. He had Alex and his team and that was enough.

Now, as he spends time with Vale’s— his— pack, he can’t imagine living without this family.

He finishes breakfast and manages to persuade (easily) Bezz to nest with him on the couch.

“Are you not feeling well?” Bezz asks, when they’ve finally assembled something they’re both satisfied with.

Marc shakes his head.

“No,” he says carefully, snuggling closer to Bezz. “I just wanted to be close today.”

He can feel Bezz smile against his neck.

“Oh,” he says simply.

(And then periodically members of the pack come and coo at them but are NOT!!! not allowed to join them 😤 today is for the omegas, losers, go somewhere else)

(Also I realize I maybe don’t explain the pack dynamic well so feel free to drop me an ask if you’re ever confused. I could go ON about them)