#I’m sorry I’m just so tired right now

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry. 

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole. 

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?” 

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him. 

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should. 

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again. 

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing. 

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her. 

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea. 

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely. 

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace. 

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead. 

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see. 

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions. 

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close. 

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet. 

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before. 

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you. 

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this. 

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying. 

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case. 

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago. 

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.” 

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut. 

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes. 

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action. 

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face. 

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago. 

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches. 

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order. 

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing. 

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone. 

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist. 

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her. 

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk. 

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation. 

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans. 

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders. 

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long. 

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back. 

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago. 

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it. 

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on. 

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come. 

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together. 

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him. 

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot. 

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair. 

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is. 

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks. 

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her. 

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed. 

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again. 

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly. 

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened. 

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - long distances

You and Chris had been together for a little over a year, content with one another and the company each of you had to bring.

Before hand — you were good friends, best friends to be exact. Not with just him, but with his brothers too, and it was nice to know nothing really changed after putting a label on the two of you.

Chris and his brothers were already in their filming career when you had gotten together — making videos and posting them twice a week for their fan base that was already growing so large within a short amount of time.

Though, one day, while cuddled up with chris on your couch at your home — he broke the news to you.

He was moving to LA with Matt and Nick. Having already made enough money to afford a nice little place there. It was shocking to hear, and at first you were upset — upset with the fact you couldn’t see him everyday and you wouldn’t be around him when you needed him or wanted him.

But, the upset had been replaced with excitement over time. Thinking of all the possibilities for Chris and how amazing it was that he was able to do this with his brothers. And of all the stories you would be able to hear about his new life in a busy and bustling city.

When the day had finally come for him to move — it was spent with tears and hugs and promises to one another that everything would be okay.

And for the most part it was, you called every night — texted each other too many times through out the day and stayed connected. But, at some point things started to change. Chris grew more busy with work and with his clothing line he was starting, and the absence made you feel empty. Like he wasn’t even really there.

There were less calls, more messages being left on read or delivered — but Chris at least would tell you when he was busy and couldn’t talk, which you appreciated.

Eventually, everything began to weigh down on you. And you needed to tell him — needed to let him know how you were feeling. That you were having doubts.

-

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of your laptop. Chris’ face filled the screen, his familiar features bathed in the soft light of his LA room. He looked tired, his curls messier than usual and his celtics hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. You tried to ignore the hollow ache in your chest as you smiled at him.

“How was your day?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as your eyes looked around your screen, taking in the view you’ve seen hundreds of times already.

Chris shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Same as usual. Filmed with Nick and Matt, ran some errands. We tried this new sushi place for dinner. It was good, but, uh… not as good as Boston sushi.”

You let out a soft laugh, even though it stung a little. “Boston sushi is definitely better. How’s the apartment coming along?” you asked — a question that would slip here and there.

Chris shrugged slightly. “Fine, I guess. Still trying to figure out where to put everything. Matt thinks we need more stuff on the walls, but Nick keeps saying we don’t. It’s a whole thing.” He gave a faint smile, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “What about you? How was work?”

“Busy,” you said simply, picking at the edge of your blanket. “Came home, made dinner… I made too much again. I keep forgetting I’m just cooking for one now.” you admitted. Being so used to his presence all the time, you often made dinner for two people — it was still a hard adjustment.

Chris’ smile faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “It’s not your fault. I just need to get used to it still — even if it’s been a little.”

The conversation then faded into silence, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint rustle of Chris adjusting his laptop. He looked away, his jaw tense, and you felt the words building in your chest — words you’d been too scared to say for weeks right on the tip of your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Chris,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… uhm - can we talk about us?” the words slipping past your lips felt like a burn on your own tongue.

His gaze snapped back to you, his expression guarded. “What about us?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I just… I feel like things have been different lately. At first, we were doing so well — texting all the time, FaceTiming every night. But now… I don’t know. It feels like we’re drifting apart.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at your words, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’ve noticed it too,” he admitted after a pause. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You didn’t think I’d feel the same?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I didn’t want to say anything and make you think I was doubting us or something. And I’m not. I love you. But this…” He gestured vaguely, his hand moving between him and the screen. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be.”

The crack in his voice made your heart ache, but you nodded, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “It is hard. I miss you so much, Chris. Some nights, it’s all I can think about — how empty this place feels without you here. And then I start wondering… what if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Chris’s eyes widened slightly, his panic evident. “Wait, are you saying you want to—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “No — Chris, that’s not what I mean. I just… I don’t know how to fix this. And I hate feeling like we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Chris let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I hate that I can’t just drive over and see you when you’ve had a bad day. I hate that I can’t be there to hold you. And honestly… sometimes, I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, leaning closer to the screen. “Chris, you’re doing the best you can. We both are. But we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to make this work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to make things worse, but… I guess that’s only made things harder. I’ve missed you so much, and it’s been killing me not to tell you how much I’ve been struggling with this.”

Tears now spilled down your cheeks, and you wiped them away quickly with your sleeve. “I’ve been struggling too. And I was scared to tell you because… what if it made you think I didn’t believe in us anymore? I do, Chris. I love you so much. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this on my own.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer to the camera, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, okay? We’re in this together. And if that means being brutally honest about how much this sucks sometimes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You laughed softly through your tears, nodding. “Deal. And… maybe we can try to plan our visits better. I need to see you, Chris. I think that’ll help a lot.” you whispered, feeling yourself ease up a little at the thought of him here — with you.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been looking at flights to Boston. I was going to surprise you, but… maybe we need this sooner rather than later. I’ll come next month. No excuses.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling with hope.

“Really,” he said, his smile growing. “I need to hold you again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

A weight lifted from your chest, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, your voice lighter.

Chris chuckled, the sound warming your heart. “I love you. And no matter how hard this gets, I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “And I promise… I’ll do everything I can to make this work too.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The rest of the night felt lighter — the ache in your chest still present but less. You both were more cheerful — joking around about random things and teasing him about how his hair was too messy — along with his room.

You smiled at your screen, watching as Chris did the same. His hand coming up to his lips and blowing you a kiss through the screen — and you blushed.

You’re just hoping that whatever was said tonight…was going to stick.

© strnilolover

[f1amour]

heyyy! can i request “i’m scared of losing you” (from angst1) with oscar piastri?

❝ i’m scared of losing you ❞ — oscar piastri

pairing | oscar piastri x reader

content warnings | lots of miscommunication, angst, comfort, happy ending

★ JOIN MY SHORT N SWEET FRIENDSGIVING !

─────────────────────────

it had been a few months since you last attended a race due to your job obligations but in oscar’s eyes he only saw it as one thing; you’ve missed him winning a race, twice now.

in his eyes he thought you may no longer love him that he wasn’t worth enough for you. however, in your eyes you believed he no longer loved you especially due to his lack of presence in your life and never asking you to join him for a race weekend in months. both of you afraid to lose each other didn’t touch on the subject and living as if everything is okay.

until it wasn’t.

“i may not win another race this season but i would appreciate your support! you weren’t there for my two wins and i…i’m tired of this,” oscar argued back, you had both gone out to dinner in monaco after he returned from singapore. it started with a sweet conversation of what to do for the break to now bitter comments towards each other.

“tired of what? of me? i’m trying, oscar. i just started my third year of university and then work—.”

“work! it’s always work this work that. they always need you for something even though it’s not even in your title to do all that! you drop everything to be there for them but you can’t be there for me not even once…baby?” his mean words hit you immediately and you sit on the couch of your apartment hands covering your face as you sob uncontrollably.

“baby, yn…hey, hey breathe with me. it’s okay i’m here” oscar whispers on your ear, both arms cradling you now. was it okay? his approach may not have been the best but he wasn’t wrong. your job had been putting too much on your plate when you were meant to just be an underpaid intern who was doing multiple jobs that were not your responsibility.

“but you aren’t here, osc. i…i know that your career is demanding but you didn’t take a second to look back and realize i ease being left behind. i feel guilty i wasn’t there for your two wins especially your first. i begged my job to let me just visit you for a day to celebrate but they made me stay. it wasn’t even my day to work and i still stayed. i chose a job that doesn’t value me over you…you do care about me maybe not right now—.”

“i’m gonna stop you right there. i’m an idiot who didn’t bother asking how you’ve been recently and expecting you to support me more when i didn’t see what you’d been going through. i’m so sorry,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours kissing your tears away.

you whisper out five words you’d been feeling for awhile now, “i’m scared of losing you,” closing your eyes ready for oscar to say you’ve already lost him, “i’m scared too.” his voice matches your vulnerability.

opening your eyes looking at him in shock, “you are?” you felt like you were both taking a big step in admitting this. maybe, just maybe this would help in repairing your relationship.

“i am. i think we’ve been selfish towards each other but we also haven’t communicated right. i should have asked you more about how the job was treating you-,”

“i should have asked you how the team had been treating you.” you counter back and he chuckles.

“i know you want to be independent when it comes to your career. but i think you should quit that job and focus on school only. i know you don’t want me to take care of you financially but just let me do that for now until you graduate and find a job that will value the skills you have. i can’t lose us. i can’t lose you, yn. i love you.” his words filled with nothing but love, oscar meant well and for once you decide to take him up on the offer he’d been giving you since you started dating two years ago.

“okay.” a simple word replacing your frown into a smile on each others faces. there was work to do on your communication with each other but for now you both got to breathe a sigh of relief after facing a fear that would no longer happen.

[gojodickbig]

Can I request a smut fic where Toji’s hit job in Europe got extended from 4 days to 4 months. So when he finally gets home, y/n is desperately all over him because she missed him terribly and she’s so insatiable that he can barely keep up and tells her to slow down during the most mind numbing sex they’ve ever had. Like I want her crying and clinging to him while he says the sweetest things to her catering her praise kink about how his pretty wife was so patient and he apologizes for leaving home so long 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Home Again. | Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader.

warnings: explicit sexual content!!!, fluff, angst (due to separation), consent (implied). pet names (doll, mama, sweetheart).

A/N: i wrote this in a rush, but i hope you like it🫰🏻🫰🏻have fun reading💘💘

also reblogs are appreciated! :)

wc: 2,8K

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!

The sound of the front door unlocking made your heart lurch in your chest. You sat up from the couch, and when Toji finally stepped through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked tired—his hair slightly mussed, a faint scruff darkening his jaw—but the moment his eyes met yours, his expression softened.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm, the corner of his lips quirking into a small smile. He dropped his duffel bag by the door, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You didn’t hesitate. You were in his arms before he could take another step, your face pressed into his chest, breathing him in—his scent, the faint musk of sweat and travel, everything you’d missed about him.

“You’re here,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you clung to him. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His lips brushed the top of your head, lingering there. “God, I missed you, baby.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. “You look tired,” you said softly.

Toji chuckled, his voice low and rough. “It’s been a long trip. But I’m home now.” He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Four months, Toji,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to him like you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. “You were supposed to be back in four days.”

Toji sighed, his expression softening, guilt flickering in his green eyes. His large hands ran up and down your back in soothing strokes. “I know, mama. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you that long, but things got… complicated.”

You didn’t care about apologies—not right now. “I need you, Toji, please,” you whispered, your voice a desperate plea as you tugged him toward the bedroom.

“You’ve got me,” he promised, his lips brushing against your temple.

The second he sat on the edge of the bed, you climbed onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. Toji hissed as you ground against him, your hands tugging at the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers.

“Slow down, sweetheart,” he said softly, catching your hands in his. His lips quirked into a slight smirk, though his voice carried the rough edge of desire. “You’re acting like you’re starving.”

“I am,” you shot back, dragging his shirt open and running your hands over his chest. “Four months, Toji. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you? How much I’ve needed this?”

Toji’s breath hitched as your lips latched onto his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. “You’re gonna kill me, woman,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as you ground down on him again.

You reached between him, palming him through his pants, feeling the hard length of him straining against the fabric. “You’re a big man, you can handle it,” you teased, though your own voice wavered with desperation.

“Barely,” he muttered, his hands tightening on you. “You’re so damn impatient.”

You pulled back to meet his gaze, your eyes fierce and glassy with need. “Four months is a long fucking time, Toji,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’m not slowing down.”

As your body moved over him, his hands gripped your arms softly, the tension of his restraint turning into a gentle pull, encouraging you to take the lead. You paused for a moment, your lips brushing against his ear as you breathed out, “I want to make you feel so good.”

He groaned softly, a low, appreciative sound, his grip tightening slightly around your waist. “You always do,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “But go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

You moved forward on your knees, twisting around to land your hands on his pants, already undoing the button and zipper. You came face-to-face with his throbbing cock. Looking up at him, you innocently took hold of his member with both hands. You licked your lips, ready to take him into your mouth. Just as his tip entered between your lips, Toji grabbed your hair. Taking him in your mouth, you sucked on his tip, already dripping with precum. He hissed in pleasure. You lowered your head slowly, squeezing his balls with one hand while taking him fully in your mouth. You tried to push yourself further. Toji moaned as your throat constricted around his tip, but he restrained himself, taking a bunch of your hair in his hand again. You looked up at him, drool dribbling down your open mouth, tears welling in your eyes. Toji’s grip on your hair tightened, guiding your head away from his cock.

"My turn now, doll,” he rasped.

When he finally had you pinned beneath him, your clothes scattered across the floor, his voice was low when he spoke, the huskiness making your breath catch.

"You’re so good to me,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before his lips found their way to your neck, leaving a soft trail of kisses. “I’ve been thinking about this, about you, every damn day.”

The way he said it made you shiver, your chest tightening with the same need. You reached for him again, but this time, he took the initiative. Pushing you into the softness of the pillows, his lips never leaving your skin as he moved lower.

Toji’s hands trembled slightly as they rested on your thighs. He kissed his way down your body, every inch of you a reminder of how much he’d missed you and your body.

“So wet already,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “All for me, huh?”

You nodded, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Only for you.”

Toji grinned, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before slipping a finger inside you. You moaned, your hands clutching at the sheets as he worked you open, his finger curling against the spot that had you writhing.

“More, more Toji, please.” you whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his hand.

"Greedy girl,” he muttered, though he obliged, adding a second finger. “So tight, baby. Gotta loosen you up for me.”

Your head fell back against the mattress, your cries echoing in the room as he pumped his fingers in and out, his thumb brushing over your clit in lazy circles.

“Fuck, Toji,” you gasped, your body trembling beneath him. “I can’t—I need—”

“I know what you need,” he said, pulling his fingers out and dragging them over your lips. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You obeyed, your lips parting as he slid his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, your tongue swirling around the digits as his cock throbbed against your thigh.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Missed this mouth, too.”

When he finally lined his cock to your entrance and pushed into you, your body arched off the bed, your nails digging into his back. He groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he stretched you inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “You feel so good. So tight.”

You whimpered, your legs wrapping around his waist as you clung to him. “Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Please, Toji, don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Missed you so fucking much, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

He started to move, slow and deep, his hips rolling into you with a rhythm that had you gasping. Your nails raked down his back as tears spilled from your eyes, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

“Toji,” you sobbed, your voice breaking.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your tear-streaked cheeks. “I’ve got you. You’re so good for me. You waited four fucking months, my good girl.”

You choked out, your voice trembling with raw emotion, “I’ll always wait for you, Toji.”

His praises only made you cry harder, your body trembling beneath him. “I needed this,” you choked out. “I needed you.”

“I know,” he said, his voice rough but tender. “I’m here now. I’m here, and I’m not fucking leaving.”

He shifted, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub your clit, his movements coaxing louder moans from you. “Come for me, pretty girl,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Your body obeyed, your release crashing over you as you sobbed his name, your walls clenching tightly around him. Toji groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, his warmth spilling inside you.

He held you close, his large hands trailing softly over your back as your breaths evened out.

“You’re not allowed to be gone that long ever again,” you mumbled against his chest, your voice still hoarse.

Toji chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest now, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp. “We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere, i promise."

His fingers brushed through your hair one last time, the weight of the time spent apart and the relief of being close again settling between you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He smiled softly, feeling the words settle in his chest. “I love you too, mama, more than anything.”

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

after midnight - chappell roan

pairing: singer/producer lee heeseung x singer reader "y/n" x singer sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, suggestive, kissing, heeseung is thirsty, overall 18+ - also this is partially written so please make sure to read the written part so it all makes sense

wc: 954

ignore the time stamps and any possible typos lol

heeseung approaches y/n as she’s mingling with jake and his friends. her smile fading after he taps her shoulder and he comes into view. “can i steal her for a bit?” heeseung asks jake as if jake was the person in charge of you. a recurring behavior heeseung where he felt the need to always show ownership and possession of you when you were dating, rarely ever considering how you felt or how it would affect you. 

jake shakes his head and lets you go with heeseung even if you don't want to. heeseung grabs your wrist after failing to hold your hand, dragging you to a part of the venue where you weren’t necessarily seen by a lot of people. “what do you want heeseung? i’m trying to enjoy the party…” you say with a sigh and he tries to reel you in by showing you his big doe eyes and even though it slightly made your heart flutter, you chose to stand on business. 

“look, i know i fucked up but just give me one more chance to treat you right.” heeseung says but slows down as the sentence progresses when you just so happen to say the same exact things as him. this was the sentence he had pulled on you in the past and quite frankly, it worked a few times but not this time. 

“you didn’t even wanna try a new script to get me back?” you ask coldly and heeseung drops his face like he has been caught. “okay, i just don’t know what to say. i miss you and i know i was a fucking ass but i just can’t stand being without you.” heeseung says and you just watch him, waiting because you know he was eventually going to tell on himself. he had that habit, when heeseung was drunk and he began to ramble at you, if you just stared at him his silent pauses would be filled with more rambling because he wanted to avoid the awkward silence. so he’d fill it with more talking and eventually confess something he didn’t mean to.

“and i don’t know. that sond i made was mean i admit that but did you have to do a collab with jake of all people? you know how much i liked his music and it felt like a low blow.” there it is…

“ha! i knew it! you’re jealous, i can’t believe this is what this is actually about. do you even want me back or are you just threatened with the idea that someone else wants me and that i’m no longer yours?” you ask, anger in your voice and heeseung doesn’t know what to say. 

“heeseung, i mean this in the nicest way possible, leave me alone.” you say and although heeseung was expecting something a bit harsher, your tired demeanor and offset to his advances hurt more than your words. 

you walk away before heeseung could say another but you don’t rejoin jake and his friends, choosing to find a spot you could be alone for a few minutes. 

you turn around to hide yourself from jake as he approaches, half embarrassed that he has to see you like this and the other feeling guilty as you’re bringing down the vibe of his own party. 

“you okay, pretty?” jake asks as he pushes open the door to the balcony. the cold air whipping past him as he takes the spot next to you. clearing your throat, “yeah, i’m okay. sorry i don’t wanna be a downer on your birthday.” you say, trying to avoid eye contact but jake softly grabs your chin to make eye contact with you. 

“can i be honest..? i wasn’t really feeling the party either.” jake says with a chuckle and he gets a laugh out of you at the same time, smiling even bigger when he hears your laugh that he finds so pretty. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks and as much as you wanted to, you felt bad. “jake, this is your party, you should be here.” you say to him and jake just rolls his eyes with a pout. “nah, everyone in there is probably too drunk to even notice.” he reassures you and for a moment you’re just looking at each other. jake’s eyes are fishing for the small glint in your eyes that tells him you want this as much as he does, and indeed you do. 

you take his hand in yours and drag him back inside, past the party, and into the elevator. “where you taking me, huh?” jake says, teasingly and you roll your eyes at him playfully as you drag jake to your car. 

the drive back to your place is filled with laughter and singing random songs with jake. he couldn’t believe this was finally, his crush on you was finally progressing to something more. his eyes widened at the sight of your apartment, a high rise but humble home that screamed your style. cute figures and stuffed animals scattered throughout the home and empty cans of energy drinks on your kitchen counter. 

jake is taken out of his thoughts when you slam the door behind him and you grab him by the collar. “do you think i’m pretty?” you ask even though you already know that answer to it. jake nods, desperation in his eyes as he looks down at your lips. 

“do you wanna kiss me, jakey?” you ask and he nods eagerly, answering faster than the first time. you don’t even get a chance to lean closer to jake before he crashes his lips onto yours. a moment he had been waiting for. 

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: trouble in paradise for heeseung means smooth sailing for jake! what do we think jake and yn are going to do once they get to yn's place? do a puzzle? coloring book? bake cookies?

also please answer the little poll, the result doesn't affect the story but i'd love to see yalls input

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve tried to get you back, but it's not always easy to gain back the trust one loses.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: Angsts, like kind of a lot of it, injured character, but nobody dies. A bit of fluff with a happy ending.

Words: 9 224

AN: So, sweet anon asked about part two of Enough is Enough, and well, why the hell no :) I feel like shit (being sick isn't fun), so apologies x4 for any mistakes. My brain isn't braining...

Steve didn’t give up.

Steve’s first apology came in the form of flowers.

They arrived at the coffee shop just as you were opening. A delivery driver handed you the bouquet—a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath, wrapped in soft tissue paper. For a moment, you just stared at them, the scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the familiar aroma of coffee beans. The card nestled within the bouquet bore only three words: I’m so sorry.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to wonder who sent them.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” your coworker teased, grinning as she wiped down the counter.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you set the bouquet aside, trying to push down the lump rising in your throat. It was a beautiful gesture—one you might have cherished once—but now it felt hollow.

The flowers kept coming. Every morning, a new arrangement would appear. Daisies, tulips, sunflowers. Each accompanied by a note in Steve’s handwriting: I miss you. I love you. Let me fix this.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him the chance to make things right. But another part of you—the part still raw and aching—refused.

Then he started showing up.

The first time, you nearly dropped the coffee pot in your hand. He stood outside the shop, leaning against the lamppost with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He looked different—tired, almost haunted, as though the weight of your absence was something physical he carried with him.

You ignored him, focusing on your customers, but you could feel his presence like a shadow just beyond the glass. When you finally closed the shop, he was still there.

He said your name softly as you stepped outside, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Please,” he called after you, his tone desperate. “Just give me a chance to talk.”

You turned back, your jaw clenched. “Why now, Steve? Why couldn’t you talk to me when it mattered?”

His face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt. But you shook it off and kept walking.

It didn’t deter him. Steve came back the next day, and the day after that, always waiting silently as you worked. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally confronted him.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in months. “I want to make this right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you. I never stopped. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with conflicting emotions. He looked so sincere, so heartbroken, that for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“It’s too late,” you said finally, your voice barely audible. “You can’t fix this. I don’t trust you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes was like a physical blow, but you didn’t let it show. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, defeated.

But the truth was, you weren’t as strong as you seemed. Every step away from him felt like ripping a piece of yourself apart. By the time you got home, you were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed onto the couch.

You loved him. God, you still loved him. But love wasn’t enough anymore.

***

The days blurred together after that.

You went through the motions of your life—opening the coffee shop each morning, smiling at customers, making small talk with your coworkers—but it all felt mechanical, like a script you had memorized long ago. The warmth and joy that once fueled you were gone, replaced by an empty numbness you couldn’t seem to shake.

Nights were the worst.

Sleep eluded you, no matter how many hours you spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning under your blankets. The bed felt too big, too cold without him there. You hated yourself for missing him, for craving the comfort of his arms even after everything he’d done. But the longing wasn’t something you could control.

It wasn’t just the nights, though. Little things kept sneaking up on you, tearing at the fragile stitches holding you together.

The sight of his favorite mug on your kitchen counter. The book he’d borrowed but never finished, still sitting on your nightstand. The faint scent of his cologne that lingered on your favorite sweater, no matter how many times you washed it.

You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked. Books, once your solace, couldn’t hold your attention. The words blurred together, and you’d find yourself reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a single word.

Your friends noticed.

“You need to eat more,” one of them said during a group dinner you’d been forced to attend. She pushed a plate of pasta toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, picking at the food with a fork.

Kat wasn’t buying it. She leaned across the table, her sharp blue eyes cutting through your defenses. “You’re not fine. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you had to blink back the sting of tears.

Steve’s friends noticed too. Sam popped into the coffee shop one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you took his order.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with concern.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light. “Busy days, you know how it is.”

He didn’t press you further, but the look he gave you lingered long after he left.

***

The worst was when Steve came back.

It was late in the evening, just before closing, when he walked into the shop. You froze behind the counter, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of him.

He looked just as broken as you felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

You gripped the edge of the counter, steadying yourself. “We’re about to close.”

“I know,” he said, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

You turned away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening painfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And because I can’t stand knowing I hurt you like this.”

His words cracked something inside you, but you couldn’t let him see it. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if hoping you might change your mind. But when you didn’t, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty shop. And then you broke.

You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your grief crushed you.

You loved him. God, you still loved him.

But you didn’t know how to let yourself forgive him.

***

You didn’t expect to find Bucky Barnes on your doorstep.

It was a gray Saturday morning, and the porch floor creaked under your weight as you aimlessly swept away fallen leaves. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his blue-gray eyes watching you carefully, you froze.

“Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual, though his expression betrayed a flicker of hesitation. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitated. This was Steve’s best friend. Seeing him felt like reopening wounds that you’d been trying desperately to let heal. But there was no judgment in his gaze, no pressure—just concern. So, with a heavy sigh, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He stepped into the living room, glancing around like he was cataloging the space. You folded your arms, standing stiffly near the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, doll,” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice sharper now. “Why are you here?”

He sighed, the smirk fading. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. “I’m not with Steve anymore. There’s no obligation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the back of your couch. “Obligation? That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart. You’re my friend too. And whether or not you’re with Steve doesn’t change that.”

The softness in his tone made something crack inside you. You wanted to argue, to brush him off, but instead, you felt your defenses falter.

“Besides,” he continued with a wry grin, “someone’s gotta make sure you know not all men are idiots. Steve might be an amazing guy, but even amazing guys screw up sometimes.”

That last sentence hit you like a slap. You felt the tears coming before you could stop them, your vision blurring as all the emotions you’d been bottling up threatened to spill over. You turned away, trying to pull yourself together, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

That was all it took for the dam to break.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush.

Bucky froze, his expression softening as he watched the tears stream down your face. You sank onto the couch, your shoulders shaking, and he followed, sitting beside you without a word.

“I hate him for what he did,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I hate that he made me feel like I didn’t matter, like I was just… there. And now? Now he’s trying to fix it, like I’m supposed to just forget everything and let him back in.”

Bucky listened silently, his hands clasped together as you poured your heart out.

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you said, your chest heaving with each breath. “Like he thinks flowers and apologies will erase months of feeling invisible. I hate him for that. But more than anything, I hate that I still love him.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you added, “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want it to stop, Bucky. I want it all to stop.”

The room was quiet for a long moment. Then, Bucky sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Doll,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but loving him isn’t something to hate yourself for. Steve… he’s a complicated guy. He doesn’t always get things right, but I promise you, he loves you. More than you know.”

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “If he loved me so much, why did he treat me like that? Why did he make me feel like I didn’t matter?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “You’re right. He screwed up. Big time. But… he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years. It doesn’t excuse how he hurt you, but I’ve seen him lately, and he’s a wreck without you.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, your tears blurring the intensity in his gaze.

“He’s not good at showing it,” Bucky continued, “but he’s an amazing guy. I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. And I know he’ll never stop trying to make this right. The question is… would you ever let him? What would it take for you to let him back in?”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you stared down at the floor.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like… every time I see him, I remember how much it hurt. And even if I wanted to try again, I don’t know if I’d ever trust him not to hurt me like that again.”

Bucky reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said gently. “But whatever you choose, just know this: you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. Whether that’s with Steve or without him.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any trace of pity or judgment, but there was none. Just quiet understanding and unwavering support.

When he finally stood to leave, he gave you a small smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “And no matter what happens, I’m here. Steve or no Steve.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind long after the door closed.

And for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you could find a way forward.

***

The compound gym was almost empty, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. Steve Rogers stood at the far end of the room, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged. He’d been at it for hours, his frustration and grief pouring into every swing, every strike. The bag swayed violently under the force of his hits, the chain creaking with each impact.

“You keep that up, and you’ll be patching the damn thing again,” Bucky’s voice rang out, casual and dry as ever, though the concern in it was unmistakable.

Steve paused mid-swing, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he turned to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a softness Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse from hours of exertion.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Bucky replied, stepping into the gym. “Thought maybe you’d stop using that bag like it owes you money and actually talk to me.”

Steve sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not in the mood, Buck.”

“Well, tough,” Bucky shot back, grabbing a folding chair and dragging it noisily across the floor. He plopped it down unceremoniously a few feet away from Steve, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because I just came from seeing her.”

The color drained from Steve’s face. He froze, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You… you saw her?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said evenly, watching his friend’s reaction carefully. “She didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’d say I’m doing better than you.”

Steve flinched, the weight of Bucky’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned away, his hands gripping the edges of the punching bag as he tried to steady himself. “How… how is she?”

Bucky hesitated. He’d seen the raw pain in your eyes, the tears you tried to hide, and he knew Steve wasn’t ready for the truth. But lying wouldn’t help either.

“She’s a mess, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his head hanging low. “I did this to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I pushed her away, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now… now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bucky stood, closing the distance between them. “Steve, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned, his eyes red and tired.

“She still loves you,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady. “But she’s hurt, and she’s angry. And you can’t expect her to just forget all that because you’re showing up with flowers and apologies.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped, his voice breaking. “God, Buck, I know. But what else can I do? Every time I see her, it’s like she’s slipping further away, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You start by understanding that this isn’t about fixing things overnight. It’s about showing her that you’re willing to put in the work, no matter how long it takes. That you’re not just sorry—you’re ready to be better.”

Steve nodded, though the despair in his eyes didn’t fade. “She said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Then earn it back,” Bucky said simply. “Show her that you’re not the same guy who hurt her. And for God’s sake, stop treating this like a battle you can win with brute force. You’re not fighting Hydra here, Steve. You’re fighting for her.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t even know if she wants me to try.”

Bucky crouched slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze head-on. “I asked her,” he said quietly.

Steve’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide. “What? What did she say?”

“She doesn’t know,” Bucky admitted. “She’s scared, Steve. Scared that if she lets you back in, you’ll hurt her again. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

The words hit Steve like a blow, but he didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right.

“She told me something else too,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now. “She said she doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And it’s killing her.”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. “She… she said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She loves you, Steve. But love isn’t enough—not after what you put her through. You have to show her that you’re not just saying the right things. You have to be the right man for her. The man she fell in love with.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind racing with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, the way you’d look at him like he was your whole world. He’d taken that for granted, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

Bucky’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You don’t get to give up, punk. Not on her, and not on yourself. You want her back? Then fight for her. And don’t stop until you’ve shown her that she’s worth everything.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “How? How do I even start?”

Bucky gave him a small, knowing smile. “Start by listening. By showing up—not just for her, but for the life she wants. Show her that she’s not a convenience, Steve. She’s the center of it all.”

Steve nodded slowly, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

Bucky grinned, clapping him on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you.”

Steve nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take or if he’d even succeed, but for you, he’d move mountains.

Because losing you wasn’t an option. And he’d spend the rest of his life proving it if that’s what it took.

***

Steve left the gym after his conversation with Bucky feeling drained but determined. His best friend’s words weighed on him, both a reminder of the man he wanted to be and the man he hadn’t been for you. He knew Bucky was right—this wasn’t a fight he could win with brute force or a quick apology. It would take time, patience, and a quiet kind of devotion that he’d never had to show before.

He didn’t expect you to forgive him overnight. He didn’t even expect you to notice what he was doing right away. But he had to start somewhere.

***

It was early morning when Steve pushed open the door to your coffee shop.

The familiar bell jingled above him, the sound stirring memories of quieter, happier times. You were behind the counter, moving with practiced ease as you worked the espresso machine. You didn’t see him at first, but when you turned, your eyes locked, and Steve felt the air shift.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

You blinked, your expression guarded. “Morning.”

“I’m here for coffee,” he said, stepping forward. “For the team.”

Your brow furrowed, skeptical. “The team sent you?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not exactly. Thought I’d take my turn.”

You didn’t reply, but you turned back to the espresso machine, the hum of it filling the silence. Steve watched you work, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and for a moment, he was struck by how natural this scene felt, even with the tension between you.

When you handed him the tray of drinks, your fingers brushed his briefly, and he saw the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice warm but careful.

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, and he left without lingering, the bell jingling softly as the door swung shut behind him.

*

The next time he came, it was quieter. Midmorning, after the breakfast rush had died down, Steve appeared with a small brown paper bag in hand.

You were cleaning the counter, lost in thought, when his voice broke through the silence.

“You forget to eat when you’re busy,” he said simply, placing the bag on the counter.

You looked up, startled. “Steve…”

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall your protests. “Nothing more. Just thought you might need it.”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught somewhere in your throat. Slowly, you opened the bag, the warm scent of eggs and bacon wafting up to meet you.

“From that diner you like,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Figured it was better than you skipping meals.”

You stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t stay long, didn’t push for conversation. He just gave you a small nod and left, leaving you with breakfast and a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

*

Natasha was relentless when it came to her movie nights, and somehow, you found yourself at the Tower despite your protests. The room was cozy, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the scent of popcorn. You settled into one corner of the couch, trying to ignore the way Steve’s presence tugged at the edges of your awareness.

When the opening credits began to roll, Steve appeared beside you, holding something in his hands.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you a pair of thick woolen socks.

You frowned, confused. “What’s this?”

“Your feet get cold,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, your chest tightening, before reluctantly taking the socks. “Thanks,” you muttered, slipping them on.

He didn’t linger, didn’t push for more. But later, when the movie reached its tense climax, he handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, knowing smile.

“You love hot chocolate after horror movies,” he said, his tone soft. “Figured you might want some.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax.

*

The envelope was waiting for you in your mailbox, unassuming but carefully placed. Inside was a single ticket to the sold-out Broadway show you’d mentioned to Sam weeks ago.

The note tucked inside was brief, written in Steve’s familiar handwriting: Thought you’d like this. Hope it’s as good as you imagined.

You stared at the ticket for a long time, your heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. He remembered. Of course, he remembered.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a kind gesture, but deep down, it chipped away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

*

The night your car broke down was cold and quiet, the kind of night that made the world feel vast and lonely. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the lifeless dashboard, your breath fogging up the glass as you fought the urge to cry.

You tried calling a few friends, but no one answered. Finally, with trembling fingers, you dialed the one number you swore you wouldn’t.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice came through the line, steady and concerned.

“My car won’t start,” you said softly, ignoring the pet name, hating how small your voice sounded.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he didn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

When his truck pulled up beside you, he climbed out without a word, his breath misting in the cold air as he checked under your hood. His movements were sure and efficient, his presence steadying.

“Alternator’s shot,” he said finally, closing the hood. “I’ll take you home.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with your gratitude, but the freezing air made the decision for you.

The drive was quiet, the heater humming softly as Steve navigated the empty streets. He didn’t pry, didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He just… drove.

When you woke up the next morning, your car was back in its usual spot. The engine purred like new when you started it, and a small note was taped to the dashboard: Shouldn’t give you trouble anymore. Call me if it does.

*

Each gesture was small, unassuming. Steve never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give. He just… showed up, quietly and consistently, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

And slowly, despite yourself, you began to notice.

***

Three months had passed since the breakup.

You wouldn’t say things had gone back to normal—far from it—but something had undeniably shifted between you and Steve. His quiet persistence, the way he showed up without pushing or demanding anything from you, had started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

At first, your conversations were stiff and polite, nothing more than a few sentences exchanged when he stopped by the coffee shop or brought you breakfast. But as the weeks went by, those moments grew longer, softer. He’d ask about your day, about the books you were reading, or the things you enjoyed, and you found yourself answering more openly. It wasn’t quite like before, but it was closer to the first moments of your relationship, back when everything had been new and uncomplicated.

Still, there was a voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you forget. A quiet, insistent whisper that reminded you of how he’d hurt you, how he’d pushed you aside and made you feel invisible.

That voice grew louder the day he asked you to talk.

***

It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows of the coffee shop as you wiped down the counter. The shop was quiet, the usual morning and lunch rushes long gone, leaving you with only the hum of the espresso machine and the soft clatter of dishes.

The sound of the bell above the door caught your attention, and when you looked up, Steve was there.

He’d been coming in more often lately, not just to pick up coffee for the team but to see you, to talk to you. This time, though, something about the way he stood—his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched—told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, setting the towel aside.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, glancing around at the empty shop. “I mean… can we talk?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The vulnerability in his expression was disarming, but that voice in the back of your mind warned you to tread carefully. Still, you nodded, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.

Steve followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. For a moment, he said nothing, his hands clasped tightly on the table as he stared down at them. You waited, your heart thudding quietly in your chest as the silence stretched between you.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About what I should say. How I should say it. And the truth is… there’s no easy way to do this. So I’m just going to be honest.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you braced yourself for whatever was coming.

“I screwed up,” he said, the words heavy with regret. “I let you down in a way I never should have. And I’ve been trying to figure out why—why I acted the way I did, why I pushed you away when you were the best thing in my life.”

His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to find the right words. “I think… I think I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of dragging you into everything that comes with being me. The missions, the stress, the weight of it all—I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “So you decided to ignore me instead? To shut me out?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It was selfish and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… I thought if I kept it to myself, if I didn’t tell you about everything that was going on, I could protect you from it. But all I did was hurt you.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you were everything to me.”

The raw emotion in his voice made your chest ache, but the wounds he’d left were still fresh, still tender.

“Steve…” you began, your voice trembling, “you hurt me more than anyone ever has. Do you know that?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded.

“I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I kept asking myself why I wasn’t good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth your time or your attention. And then, when you finally started trying again, it felt like a slap in the face. Like you thought a few kind gestures could erase everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “I wanted so badly to be enough for you, Steve. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be enough.”

“You were,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “You are. God, you’re more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I didn’t know how to handle it—how to be the man you deserved—and I let that fear control me. But I swear to you, I see it now. I see what I lost because of it.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I might have ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do to change your mind, tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better, that I can be the man you need me to be.”

His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I just need to know if there’s any part of you that still believes in us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settled over you. The pain, the anger, the love—all of it swirled together in a storm of emotion that left you speechless.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you said, “I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I can forget how much it hurt.”

His face crumpled, but he nodded, accepting your words without argument.

“But…” you continued, your voice softer now, “I can’t pretend I don’t still feel something for you. I can’t pretend I don’t still love you.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths.

“That doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were,” you said quickly, your tone firm. “If we’re going to try… if we’re going to even think about trying, it has to be different. You have to be honest with me, Steve. About everything.”

“I will,” he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I will.”

You nodded, your throat tight with the weight of what you’d just said. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A small step toward rebuilding what had been broken.

And as Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours, you let yourself hope—for the first time in months—that maybe, just maybe, it was a step worth taking.

***

It had been a week since the conversation with Steve, and your emotions were in turmoil. You felt caught between the raw pain of the past and the cautious hope of what could be. His words haunted you—his apologies, his promises, the way his voice had cracked when he told you how much he still cared.

You needed clarity, and there was only one person who could give you the no-nonsense advice you desperately needed: Natasha.

She arrived at your place that evening, a takeout bag in hand, and didn’t waste a second settling herself at your kitchen table. Her sharp green eyes studied you as you sat down across from her, picking at the noodles she’d brought for you.

“All right,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Steve,” you admitted, your voice soft.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “We talked. Really talked. He told me everything—why he shut me out, how he felt, all of it. He apologized for everything and… I believe him, Nat. I really do.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you confessed, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I can let myself go through that again. He hurt me so much, Nat. How do I just move past that?”

Natasha studied you for a moment, her gaze piercing. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. “If you didn’t still love him, if you didn’t still want something with him deep down, would we even be having this conversation right now?”

You frowned, her words hitting you hard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three months,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If you were done with him, if you really didn’t care anymore, you’d have moved on by now. You wouldn’t still be here, agonizing over whether to give him another chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. She wasn’t wrong, and deep down, you knew it.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him tomorrow or even next week,” Natasha continued, leaning forward. “But if there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in him, don’t ignore that. You owe it to yourself to figure out what you really want. Not what you’re afraid of, not what you think you should do. What you want.”

Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet truth that refused to be ignored.

***

At the same time, Steve was grappling with his own uncertainty.

He sat in the Tower’s lounge, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he stared out the window. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation, about the raw pain in your voice when you told him how much he’d hurt you.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve turned to see both Sam and Bucky entering the room. They exchanged a look before sitting down on either side of him.

“You’ve been brooding,” Sam said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “It’s her,” he admitted.

“Figured,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

“I talked to her,” Steve said. “Told her everything—how I felt, why I shut her out. I apologized for all of it.”

“And?” Sam prompted.

“She said she doesn’t know if she can trust me again,” Steve said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “But she also said she still loves me. I don’t know what to do with that, Sam. I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Look, man, love isn’t always enough. Not when there’s hurt involved. If she doesn’t trust you right now, that’s on you to fix. You can’t just expect her to forgive and forget because you feel bad about it.”

“I know that,” Steve said quickly, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to mess this up again. I need to figure out how to show her that I’m serious without overwhelming her.”

Bucky gave him a long, measured look. “You’ve been trying,” he said finally. “We’ve all seen it—the little things you’ve been doing. But if you’re asking me, you’re not going to fix this by tiptoeing around her. You’ve got to be honest, Rogers. If you want her back, you need to let her see all of you. The good, the bad, and the stuff you think she won’t want to deal with.”

Steve frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What if she doesn’t want to deal with it?”

“Then she doesn’t,” Bucky said simply. “But if you hold back, you’re not giving her the chance to decide for herself. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to let her see that you’re not just saying the right things, Steve. You’ve got to show her. But don’t make it about fixing things fast. Healing takes time, for both of you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Sam said with a grin. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Cap.”

***

Steve spent the next few days thinking about their advice. He’d been so focused on not pushing you, on giving you space, that he hadn’t realized he might be holding back too much.

When he saw you next, it was at the coffee shop, just as you were closing up for the day. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his heart pounding.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Hey.”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “Sure.”

He gestured toward one of the empty tables, and you followed him, sitting down across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Steve began, his voice steady but low. “About how much I hurt you, how I made you feel like you weren’t enough. And you were right. I let you down in ways I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix things in small ways, trying to show you that I’m serious,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ve been honest enough with you. I don’t think I’ve let you see how much this has been tearing me apart.”

His hands tightened into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or push you, but I can’t hold this back anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. “If there’s anything—anything—I can do to earn your trust again, tell me. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Your own eyes burned with tears, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the walls you’d built around your heart. For the first time, you saw not just the man who’d hurt you but the man who was willing to fight for you, flaws and all.

You didn’t have an answer for him—not yet. But as you reached across the table and took his hand, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start finding one.

***

You were closing up the coffee shop when your phone buzzed. The message was from Natasha. That alone was unusual—Nat rarely texted without reason. You pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb.

The words on the screen made your blood run cold: We’ve lost contact with Steve and Bucky.

Your breath caught, and the phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands. For a moment, everything around you blurred—the soft hum of the espresso machine, the faint chatter of pedestrians outside, the smell of coffee beans—all of it faded into the background.

You didn’t think, didn’t even register dropping the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. Your hands shook as you locked the doors, fumbling with the keys before rushing to your car.

The drive to the Tower was a haze, your chest tight with panic as Natasha’s words repeated in your mind. You knew Steve went on dangerous missions. It was part of who he was. But something about those words—lost contact—made this time feel different.

***

By the time you arrived at the Tower, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribcage. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally slid open, you practically ran into the common room, where Natasha and Sam were already waiting.

“What happened?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Natasha turned toward you, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her concern. “They were on a mission. Everything was going according to plan, but then we lost contact about three hours ago. We’ve been trying to re-establish communication, but there’s been no response.”

Three hours. That might as well have been three days.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” you pressed, your voice rising. “How does that even happen?”

“It could be anything,” Sam said, his tone soothing but cautious. “Jammed signals, a misstep in the mission. We don’t know yet.”

You stared at them, your breathing shallow, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. “So they could be…”

“They’re not,” Natasha said firmly, cutting you off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a softness in her gaze. “Steve and Bucky have been in worse situations than this. They’ll find a way to get back to us.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “They’re two of the toughest guys I know,” he said. “If anyone can make it out of this, it’s them.”

You wanted to believe them, but the fear in your chest refused to let go. You sank into one of the chairs, your hands gripping the armrests so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The minutes dragged by like hours, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive. Natasha and Sam tried to make conversation, to keep you distracted, but you barely registered their words. Your mind was too consumed by the thought of what could happen—of what might have already happened.

***

When Natasha’s phone finally buzzed, the sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot. She snatched it up, her sharp gaze scanning the screen. Relief flickered across her face as she read aloud:

“It’s from Steve. They’re on their way back, but a medic is necessary.”

Your heart seized, a mixture of relief and panic coursing through you. “Who’s hurt?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He didn’t say,” Natasha replied, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen. You told yourself it didn’t matter who was hurt—they were alive, and they were coming back. But the not knowing gnawed at you, the fear for Steve settling deep in your bones.

No one told Steve you were here, and maybe that was for the best. But as you sat there, waiting for the jet to arrive, you realized just how fragile everything felt. The past few months flashed through your mind—all the moments of doubt, the anger, the hesitation—and for the first time, they seemed so small. In the grand scheme of things, you could have lost Steve today. That thought terrified you more than anything else.

***

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbling low overhead pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood with Natasha and Sam, your heart pounding as the aircraft touched down on the Tower’s private landing pad.

The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing you saw was Steve, his arm slung around Bucky to help him walk. Bucky looked pale, his arm hanging limp at his side, his face tight with pain. Medics rushed forward to meet him, but your eyes were locked on Steve.

He didn’t look much better than Bucky. His shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and his face bore a fresh collection of cuts and bruises. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his steps slow and measured.

But when his eyes found yours, he smiled.

Even battered and bloodied, he’d never looked more handsome. His beard, grown in over the time he’d been away, gave him a rugged edge, and his blue eyes still held that quiet strength you’d always admired.

The moment your gaze met his, something in you broke. You ran to him, barely aware of your surroundings, and threw your arms around him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. His shirt was rough against your skin, damp with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. “I was so scared. I thought… I thought I might lose you.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “I’m here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “You have to be more careful,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t… you can’t do this to me, Steve.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What went wrong?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate. He guided you to a quieter corner, his hand resting lightly on your back, and began to explain.

“The mission was supposed to be straightforward,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But things went sideways fast. There were more hostiles than we anticipated, and Bucky got hit—bad. I couldn’t leave him behind, so I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“You carried him out,” you finished, your throat tightening.

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from the overwhelming realization of who Steve truly was—the man who would sacrifice everything for the people he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I won’t make that mistake again. And if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you everything—about the missions, about what’s going on with me. No more shutting you out.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mixture of love and fear and hope. Slowly, you nodded. “I’m listening,” you said.

And as he began to speak, you felt the cracks in your heart begin to mend, one word at a time.

***

Steve stayed with you after the medics whisked Bucky away to the infirmary. He’d insisted Bucky was in good hands, though you could see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. You sat together in one of the quieter rooms in the Tower, the tension from the mission still clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his exhaustion, he refused to let go of your hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you sat beside him. “I know it’s late.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He gave you a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “No, Steve. I’m just—” You paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the adrenaline that had sustained him through the mission began to fade. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a vulnerability that left you breathless. “For scaring you, for shutting you out before… for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know I mean it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. For a long moment, you didn’t respond, your chest tight as you tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

“I was so scared today,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “When Nat texted me, when we didn’t know if you were okay… it was like the ground had been ripped out from under me.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I realized then how stupid these past few months have been. I was so caught up in my own hurt, my own doubts, that I didn’t see what we were losing.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You weren’t wrong to feel that way,” he said softly. “You had every right to be hurt, to doubt me. I earned that. But I don’t want to lose you, baby. Not now. Not ever.”

His words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and resolute.

***

The days following the mission passed in a haze of quiet moments and tentative steps forward. Steve stayed at the Tower to help Bucky recover, but he checked in with you constantly. Sometimes it was a quick text—How are you? Did you eat today?—and sometimes it was a phone call that lasted longer than either of you expected.

You visited the Tower often, bringing Bucky some of his favorite snacks and sitting with him while Steve caught up on reports. Bucky teased you relentlessly, of course, his dry humor cutting through the tension in ways only he could manage.

“So,” he said one afternoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When are you two going to stop tiptoeing around and just admit you’re back together?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “We’re not—”

“Sure,” Bucky interrupted, smirking. “And I’m the King of Wakanda.”

Steve, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glaring at Bucky.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Bucky said with a shrug, earning himself an eye-roll from both you and Steve.

Despite his teasing, Bucky’s words stayed with you. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The way you and Steve interacted had changed since the mission. There was a closeness now, a sense of trust that hadn’t been there before.

***

One evening, Steve invited you to dinner at the Tower. He didn’t call it a date, and you didn’t press him on it, but there was something deliberate about the way he’d set the table, the candles he’d lit, the care he’d taken with every detail.

The two of you sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candles casting warm light over his face. For a while, you just talked—about work, about Bucky’s recovery, about the books you’d been reading. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once lingered between you finally gone.

At one point, Steve leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “About how scared you were. How I need to be more careful.”

You frowned slightly. “Steve, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know your work is dangerous. I’ve always known that.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you were right. I can’t keep doing this—not without being honest with you about what’s going on. If I’m asking you to be part of my life, I need to make sure you feel like you’re part of it.”

His words sent a warmth through your chest, a feeling of being truly seen and valued. “I appreciate that,” you said softly.

Steve smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything between you was falling into place.

***

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Steve reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“I know we can’t go back to how things were before,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I think we can build something better. Something stronger. If you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Just quiet determination and a love that felt as steady and unshakable as the man himself.

“I want that too,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and for the first time in months, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift.

It wasn’t a perfect ending. There were still things to work through, still scars to heal. But as Steve reached for your hand, his grip warm and sure, you knew you were ready to take the next step—together.

[kingofanemptyworld]

Togame’s Team:

Carracosta (Partner Pokemon)

Lairon

Lycanroc (Dusk)

Carkol

Cranidos

Alright, here’s my reasoning for Togame being a rock-type trainer: stamina. During the Noroshi arc, that’s the comment he gets from his opponent — he’s terrifying precisely because he just doesn’t stop. And you see it in his fight with Sakura, too; Togame could’ve kept going if he hadn’t had his epiphany mid-fight. Point being, it was a toss up between rock, ground, and steel for me, and rock won purely because it meant I could give him a turtle pokemon as a partner. Again, I had Rampardos in mind originally (the way it charges reminds me of Togame, lowered head and everything lmao), but Carracosta has it all. Rock type, revitalized fossil, and turtle. Truly a triple threat.

To elaborate a little more on the rest of his team… Lycanroc is there because anyone who’s guard dog-coded in the series (Endo, Togame, Nirei - that makes sense I promise - Hiiragi, etc.) gets a dog-like pokemon. And it’s the dusk form because I liked the mixture of light/dark imagery considering Togame’s character arc. Carkol is his one concession to the fact that the eighth gym is meant to be fire-themed (when Choji’s actually there and not wandering around like the free spirit he is), plus it’s like. Togame being the inexhaustible fuel to Choji’s fire, y’know?

Lairon’s there because I like that evolutionary line. And it fits well with the whole steadfast second in command vibe Togame’s got going on. Plus I’m pretty sure its speed is abysmal in-game.

Were Togame not a gym leader (stand in) and just a normal trainer Sakura encounters, he’d probably have this team instead: Carracosta, Torterra, Torkoal, Blastoise, Shuckle. Because turtle.

[mrsackermanfeed]

ProfessorKentoNanami x CollegeStudentBlackReader (NSFW Link )

TEACHERS PET

Your cute little skirt in his lap , legs folded that you sat on , he slammed down that framed picture of his wife and him on there wedding day .

And slid his wedding band into his dresser , while tugging your panties aside , “ I get a A , you promise?” He sighed and slid his fingers into that tight wet cunt .

“Promise bunny “ he sung at the sound of your slick puckering on his fingers , she didn’t feel bad , not one inch , she heard the arguments when he left class when his wife called , but she knew she was a silly girl too him , too think he would leave his wife for her .

So she enjoyed what was offered , he knew she had daddy issues and that’s what kept him stuffing her full of lies , lies that he would love her and protect her from anything that tried too hurt her .

“Mr.Nana- “ he pulled his fingers from her sopping entrance , picking her up by her thighs before swiping away anything in the way on his desk keeping him from fucking her .

“Come on bunny class is over “ he slammed her down on the desk , and yanked her panties off her thighs , leaving her in the cute plaid skirt , “ I’m sorry daddy I forgot “ he sighed heavily that name making him almost cum in his pants .

“That’s it , good girl “ he replied leaning toward you taking his belt off and pushing your knees up , he grabbed the back of your head pushing it against his , and put one on your lower back so he could look right into your eyes .

Sinking into you , he sighed , still not breaking that contact but watching you fall apart , “ shit “ you cursed , at his stretch as his mouth hung , before pulling out he rammed back into you, leaning on your elbows his hands pulled on your cute white bra , tugging it off your chest as your nipples perked , and your breast jumped , you sighed softly.

Pouting up at him , he sighed , before flipping you fully so you would be laying down , he leveled his knee on the desk keeping it steady and he hovered over you while sinking himself deeper , words couldn’t explain why he loved doing this why he needed you but he did , you made it better for him in this stupid marriage he had .

He was angry , she cheated first in the marriage , you always asked him why he just now started too pay attention too your flirty comments that was because he didn’t wanna hurt his wife , but the night he came in tired , watching his friend of three years fuck up into his wife it hurt him .

“Dad- daddy it hurts “ you hicked, he didn’t realize his speed he was hurting you , tears welding in your eyes he grabbed your waist picking you up and hugging onto you , “ I’m sorry princess , I don’t mean it , I’m sorry ok?” You pouted while he still slammed you up and down on his cock .

You hummed, burying your cries in his neck , he smiled , and sat in his chair pulling you out of his shoulder , he smiled softly, “better ?” He slowly lifted your body fucking you , “ yes “ you hicked , and he pushed the big curls from your face and brushed them behind your ears .

“I love you “ she nodded and laid on his chest “ I love you too “ she lifted crying his neck “ I’m gonna cum daddy “ he smiled and rubbed your back , “ I’m here , you can “ he smiled softly.

He knew exactly what he wanted from you and why he kept this going , he needed you , you made him happy and that was the end of his marriage .

His condom broke and he felt all the warm liquid slip into you before he was picking you up and sitting you on the desk , “ I’m sorry “ he panted pulling the condom from your tight cunt .

You sighed and panic filled your body , but you kept calm knowing you had a plan .

“It’s ok I’ll grab a plan b from the store on the way home , thank you sir “ you got down from his desk picking up your panties and his books helping him clean his mess before fixing his tie and letting him clean up his mess on your legs and you made your way home .

You felt disgusting for once , thinking about what happened.

Part 2

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 21 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: In the small town of Ogallala, you and Arthur nurture feelings for each other that become increasingly hard to deny with each passing day and each word spoken.

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one took me so long. I couldn’t get it quite right for weeks, and part of me hates to part with it anyway because I’m getting so close to the end 🥲 Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty-one of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Twenty-One: Love

Word count: 3726

This room was unlike the others. That airy barn had the memory of your childhood home and Beth on it, the last hotel room the sharpness of fear. You’d thought that that room would be the one to stay with you, but you tried to forget it now. Now, there was only this room, the safety in it, and Arthur. Maybe the latter two went hand in hand.

Your eyes found said safety in the growing darkness, watching him reverently in the low light. He’d lit a lamp earlier, and its golden glow reflected in his shining hair, his exposed skin, his gemstone eyes. You would never tire of that gaze. Normally, you found a smirk beneath it, but now his mouth matched his heavy stare—thoughtful and filled with something very close to desperation. It wasn’t difficult to guess why. Love did that to a person.

You had thought there would never be a feeling stronger than grief, stronger than the helpless agony that came with it. But love was the one thing to outweigh it. Rather, requited love was. Feeling wanted again was all your heart needed to stitch itself back together. To be loved was to be needed. And that triumphed grief every time.

You weren’t only thinking of yourself as you studied the man beside you. You thought of him and of how unlikely a match he was for you. But it was beginning to make sense. He, like you, was all wild animal, untamed, worth more than mankind could give. He wasn’t defined by the constructs of a normal personhood just as you weren’t. Neither of you were made for fleeting little relationships, if any at all. And perhaps that’s why it worked so well to be together, the feeling as natural as breathing. Because there were no expectations. He made sure of that, and you were too inexperienced and fond of him to form them. Being with a man emotionally or physically scared you before because it had always seemed confining. But you knew without a doubt that if you chose to go alone to the next town and never look back at this trip and all it brought between you, Arthur would let you. He wouldn’t hesitate. And because of that, he was freeing in a way no one had ever been to you. Not even your parents.

You were so caught up in his gaze and your thoughts that you were startled by the sudden sound of bootsteps opposite the door, flinching in his grasp as deputy badges and blood flashed across your vision.

“Easy,” he said lowly, pulling you in closer on the bed as the sound faded.

“Just…jumpy over the last time that happened.”

“Ain’t no law here to worry about,” Arthur said, stroking your hair.

He was right. And you were again reminded that this hotel room was very different from the last.

“I know,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite convince yourself after having lived through the hell that was the last town. That ringing gunshot that would never leave you be sounded again.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin so you would meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words hit you like a physical blow. His protectiveness made you feel loved, but it was the truth of it that drove his point home. Because you had no doubt he would tear apart the world to keep you safe. Just as you had. You’d broken every moral you had just to keep him from harm. But you would do it all again. And, knowing Arthur, you bet he felt the same thing tenfold.

You smiled against his hand. “I know.” This time, you meant it.

After a moment and a smile so sure you wanted to keep it there forever, Arthur shifted. “Sit up.”

You did as he asked, watching as he reached for his journal. Thinking he meant to draw you again, you blushed. Especially as there was no coat this time, just bare skin between you only partially covered by a blanket at your hips. But to your surprise, he reached for your hair and tugged on that horsehair braid he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of, flattening it so that he could see the contrasting colors better.

“What is it with you and this braid?”

He shifted again so that he was far enough away to get the general picture of you sitting there, though that wasn’t saying much in the tiny bed. He was still close, and you watched his eyes focus in on your braid as he flipped to a blank page and readied his pencil, ignoring your question completely.

Wanting to know what it meant to him, you pushed. “Hard of hearing?”

“I heard you,” he said, still focusing hard on your hair. A few seconds passed as he began drawing. You didn’t think he would answer you until he shook his head, continuing to look down at his journal as he spoke. “I draw things so I don’t forget ‘em. There are a few moments I’ll never forget when it comes to you, but that braid, I want to remember even after it’s gone.”

You were warmed by the sincerity in this, but your curiosity got the better of you. “What moments will you never forget?”

Again, he took a beat to answer. “Looking at your side all bruised and bloody and my shitty attempt at stitches holding it all together. When you said ‘how could you’.”

You’d forgotten that. It had been months, and somehow his words had you remembering how the wagon you’d woken up in after he had stitched you up made your skin crawl. He went on, dispelling any further thought about it.

“The first time you let me touch you. The way you said ‘don’t stop’.”

This one made your heart race. He still pushed on.

“When I killed those wolves and came back in the tent to find you with that look on your face, like you were ready to die. The way you pulled me to you.” He stopped drawing and looked up at you. “That was the first time I felt like you really cared whether I was there or not. The first time you wanted my comfort.”

It was true. It was the first time you’d relied on him in your brokenness, the first time clinging to him felt like healing.

You smiled at him.

He went back to penciling in his journal. “And,” he said, drawing the word out in that drawl of his. “You asked me for that horsehair like it was the last gift you could give that horse. I knew it right then, the kind of woman you was. Thoughtful and tough as hell.”

You’d thought nothing of the act at the time, at least not in the way it would be viewed by Arthur. It was natural. Maybe that was why he admired you for it.

He went on. “I didn’t realize I enjoyed getting to know the woman you was before all this mess until then. Until I thought you would slip away again. But then you came out of that tent with this braid in your hair…”

He stopped and admired it, a smile turning his lips. “And you was still with me. And I was…relieved. Happy, even. That braid shows that strength of yours.”

For the first time since arriving in this town, you felt like crying. But not over any sadness. He had a way with words that surprised you. Your eyes fell to the page, to the way he had drawn part of your braid with such tenderness. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he meant every word.

Unable to voice your thoughts, or perhaps wanting to hold what he’d said in your heart a little longer, you teased him instead. “So, when you drew me in that barn, what were you trying to remember then?”

His smile turned into a smirk, one you were all too familiar with. “How good you looked in my coat.”

His gaze was hot on your skin, growing wanting as he watched you. And in seconds, his journal was pushed aside and forgotten, traded for his want of you, his need to touch you, his desire. To be that desire meant so much to you that your heart pounded a heavy beat in your chest, like it wanted to be loved by him too, craving that closeness.

Falling into him, you granted your heart exactly what it asked for.

~

The days bled together, and Arthur had no intention of moving on to the next town. As long as you wanted to stay here, he would stay with you. The only bit of business he attended to in the meantime was sending a letter back to the gang, thinking it was likely they’d made it to Denver a while back and would stay until they heard from him. The thought made Arthur smile—that wild bunch on the edges of town, restless and ready to bound out of there at a moment’s notice. They weren’t meant for staying in a big town like that just as he weren’t.

The only trouble with the letter had been what to put in it. Arthur hadn’t known what to say to the group he considered family. He was torn between staying with you and going back to them, knowing either would serve him well. But he was leaning toward staying, starting a life he had only ever dreamed of. Every time he considered it though, it felt too good to be true. It always was when he was younger, and who was he to deserve it now? Had he really changed at all? The truth to that was no, he hadn’t. Maybe he could be decent, but he still had a past on him that he didn’t want catching up to you. But so did you now, killing that deputy. All things considered, he was left feeling even more confused every time he pondered it. So, his letter had been short and nondescript, stating where he was and to write back when and where the gang inevitably moved. He posted the letter and left all thought of it behind him, knowing going in circles about it all wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, he returned to you and vowed to keep his mind on you, on this time you shared together and how right it felt. No matter that, like always, the town and its memories would soon be behind you both.

It wasn’t difficult to keep you in the front of Arthur’s mind. You were a gift, something he didn’t deserve. And all this time spent with you kept him sated like he never had been, his restless heart daring to settle for the first time since he was a boy.

The day had reached its end with the two of you still in bed. Arthur had done exactly what you’d asked of him those days ago, teaching you all the ways he knew how to pleasure a woman. But this was perhaps different, as there never was any meaning behind it until he met you.

Even worse was your blunt curiosity and the things you asked that got him so hard he could hardly see straight. He figured the worst of it was when you’d asked him to teach you how to pleasure him. He was wrong. It was moments ago, when you’d turned to him with a blush on your face and asked if you could ride him. Well, those hadn’t been your exact words, but that was all Arthur could come up with now as you made to do the very thing.

His hands found your hips in seconds upon you climbing on top of him. It took everything in him to be gentle.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you said in a voice close to a whisper.

He found a lazy grin sneaking its way across his face, for the way your shyness showed, for the way you climbed on top of him anyway. Sure as ever.

“What?” you said upon seeing his smile.

“I like you on top of me,” he said honestly. Because he did. Nothing turned him on more. But he couldn’t go on without teasing you at least a little. “I like you wantin’ to ride me.” He squeezed your hips with his fingers, tugging you closer. Your face went bright red at those words.

“What’s the matter?” he teased.

You kept looking from his eyes to his mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. The smile on your face was timid, but it was blatant as the day was long that he’d called you out and you wouldn’t well deny it.

You wouldn’t meet his eye as you said, “I like it too.”

Arthur’s grin went wide, and he bucked his hips underneath you for good measure. Pure pleasure met him as he did, the movement against your slick like heaven.

You let out a little moan, bracing your hands on his chest as you made to line yourself up with him. He would never tire of the distracted look you got on your face, like his body and what he was doing to yours was all you could think about. It made a pride he could hardly contain take hold.

You reached your hand down and fisted him so gently he couldn’t stand it. That is, until the head of his cock slid into you, and you met his eye and sat completely, making him suck in a sharp breath. He still held your hips with gripping fingers, but it was all he could do not to focus solely on how deep he was buried in you, on moving fast and hard. Instead, he let you set your own pace as you watched him with a heavy gaze, your lips parting when you began to move up and down on him.

It was downright sinful, the feeling it brought him. He pulled you in tighter, moving his hands with your hips. Ignoring all else. He didn’t give a shit what he looked or sounded like, so long as you didn’t stop.

“Arthur?”

He met your eye, only able to do so since your tone had the hint of a question in it. You kept riding him, grating and slow, as you spoke. “I want to- oh…”

You drug the word out, your head falling back in your pleasured state. It was so goddamn arousing Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He held you down against him and bucked upward, hard, making you moan for him as your breasts started bouncing with how fast he moved. Fuck, that did it.

“Want to what?” he gritted out.

You looked downright erotic, your heavy eyes falling over him like sex given form as you answered, “Want to feel your release inside of me.”

Arthur slowed his pace, your words hitting him so hard he knew he would spill inside you anyway if he weren’t careful.

“Ain’t too smart, darlin’.”

“I don’t care.”

In this moment, he didn’t either. He didn’t care about the consequences, even though it would normally bother him after Isaac. If anything, he was in a place to be with you, to raise a child with you if it came to that. So to hell with all his usual fear and regret.

“You sure?” he grimaced, still pumping his cock into you as deep as he could.

“Yes. If you are.”

Surprising himself, he was.

Arthur lifted you up and off of him, needing to do what he’d been wanting to for some time now. Of all the pleasure the two of you had wrought from each other, there was one remaining untried thing Arthur felt was a bit selfish but knew you would get just as much enjoyment out of as he would. And he did that now, turning you so that you remained facing the bed as he crawled behind you.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please…”

“Please what?” Arthur pushed your shoulders down to the bed gently, the head of his cock meeting your slick again. He nearly shook in anticipation.

“Please take me. Hard.”

If that weren’t encouragement enough, Arthur slid into you so deep you tightened around him. “Christ,” he grimaced. Then he moved. And he had to close his eyes and focus hard to keep his release at bay.

Arthur rocked his hips fast, knowing the second he watched how perfectly your bodies met, this would be over. So he focused on you first, on the sounds you made and what you seemed to like best. You moaned the loudest when he gripped your hips again and fucked you harder, so he kept on, letting you feel just how much you affected him as he drove deep.

“Arthur,” you whined, his name so needy on your tongue he almost lost it.

“That’s it,” he said lowly, taking one hand away and moving it around you, his finger coming down on those nerves that made you buck against him.

That really made you cry out. And Arthur felt a pride like none other, a protectiveness and a possessiveness that made him want to spend inside you, make you his. His grip on you tightened as his finger swirled against you.

In seconds, your pleasure rocked through you, making those inner muscles of yours flutter and work against Arthur’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure took over. Then it was all feeling, all you at his mercy, pleading his name like he was actually worthy of this.

For once in his life, Arthur let go of all the control, all the responsibility and sense he held so close. He released it like a breath and took you like a man should take a woman, for the sheer purpose of desire and need and maybe even love. He shuddered then slid home one last time with your name on his lips, spilling inside of you as you continued to come down around him. It was comforting and fitting and so incredibly right that his chest caught at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

He wanted to repeat it back to you. But he stayed there silent, finally daring to look down at where you were met. And Christ, was it a sight, almost like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips, unable to resist wanting to keep his spend deep inside you. It was primal and perhaps idiotic of him, but he couldn’t help it. He already wanted to do it all over again.

You both breathed heavy and refused to separate, caught there in this moment that, if you were lucky, would never have to reach its end.

But end it did, only because your body was giving out. He hadn’t realized how hard he took you until then, until your muscles protested enough to make you begin to fall to the bed. He slid out of you and caught you, letting you down slowly. He rolled you onto your back, meeting your satisfied gaze. “You okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s all I ever wanted. And all I’ll ever want again.”

A smile turned his lips, catching him off guard. He never expected to smile after doing something so reckless, hope filling him where regret normally would.

“Good,” he replied. And you smiled back, the sight a tired thing. He leaned down and kissed you. When he broke away, the look you gave him hit him just as hard as all his arousal had. It was a look of complete trust. Like you’d found a home in him. He never thought he’d see the day a woman looked at him like that.

“Don’t know about you,” you said laboredly, “but I’m spent.”

He chuckled at just how spent he was, not bothering to reply as he wrapped you up in his arms to sleep. Nothing more than a man and the woman he loved, as normal a life as he could have ever imagined.

~

You and Arthur very much overstayed your welcome in the small town of Ogallala. Both of you mentioned leaving a time or two but could never quite convince yourselves to saddle up and do it. So you stayed, carving out a little life for yourselves filled with the ease of routine.

Eventually though, you could tell money was getting tight when Arthur began choosing dried meat over his preferred canned goods from the general store. It made you guilty enough to know it was time to move on. Maybe your end destination would be as kind to you as this town had been, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ending this precious time together. You hadn’t talked about it, but you were beginning to believe that Arthur would stay with you. So, holding onto that hope, you finally gave in to leaving.

“What, tired of my company?” he’d teased when you brought it up, both of you already at the stables visiting your mounts.

You shot him a look that warned of a swat to the arm but said, “Not even a little.”

That earned you one of those genuine smiles he rarely gave, like your words were healing him stitch by stitch. But he agreed, and the pair of you gathered up and mounted.

You watched the town slowly fall away into the distance as you left it, turning to look at it so many times Arthur laughed at you. “It ain’t going nowhere, you know.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“That’s what you’re always saying.”

He shot you a smirk that could tear down the world and every forlorn woman in it. How lucky you were that he was yours. You thought of telling him so, of telling him how much you cared for him, but your heart began racing, and the words died on your lips. Instead, you opted to tease him right back—his and your form of endearment. And his resulting happiness made you know that it was just as special to him as saying those three precious words.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @c1gs-coffee @appalachiancowboy99

[kittyhowlett]

just a quick little drabble bc i’m think about 2013 the wolverine logan.

yk the drill, minors dni.

it’s a quiet night. You’re sitting on the couch with Logan by the fireplace. It’s a little chilly outside and Logan arrived home from work five minutes ago and plopped right down on the couch. Sitting back, undoing his tie, spreading his legs and throwing his head back, letting out a deep sigh. You plopped right down next to him with a cup of tea in your hand, hoping it would warm you up a little bit. It’s been silent for five minutes now. Just sitting in each other presence. He looks up at you with his head still thrown back. You took the opportunity to break the silence.

“How was work?” you finally said.

“Stressful.” he exclaimed with an unamused look.

You frowned slightly, “I think i know something that could cheer you up tho….” it was hard to say it without giggling.

“I’m not in the mood, princess” He threw his head back again, closing his eyes.

You knew it would be wrong, to be a fucking selfish little brat, especially when he was tired from work. But you couldn’t help it, it’s just too fun right?

You slowly rises your legs up so that your knees were touching your chest and sat with your back against the arm of the couch. You slowly tiptoed your legs closer to him. You’re plum ankle socks coming in contact with his crotch. Slowly rubbing your foot against the tent growing in his pants. You gave him a cheeky little smile and his eyes grew dark.

“Cmon, sweets don’t play this game with me” his gruff voice broken by a choked back moan.

He was so obviously getting worked up. And it made your panties dampen thinking what he was gonna do next.

He grabbed your legs softly, caressing them as he did.

“I’m serious honey”

You couldn’t help but giggle at getting under his skin so fast by something so small.

But much to your surprise, he threw your legs off of him and grabbed your face, smushing your cheeks together.

“ You wanna act like a fuckin’ brat? Hm? You wanna be taught a lesson so bad right? Huh? I’m speaking to you princess, it’s disrespectful to not answer.”

“I- I’m sorry” you tried to say but it came out as a tiny whisper.

“Yeah I know you are, but that’s not enough for me” his voice came out so demanding, it made your core clench around nothing.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You wasted no time doing so, not wanting to disobey and rile him up even more.

He swiftly placed your upper body over his right knee and your legs were now on either side of his other knee.

“You wanna play so badly, go ahead. Do what you need to do.” He grunted.

You felt your face heating up by his tone and the very vulnerable position he had you in here.

“I’m sorry, Logan…” you pouted.

“Mm-mm you don’t get to call me that anymore, sweetie” God, he made your tummy twist.

“I’m sorry, sir” you whined.

“Mm, was that so hard sweetheart?” he said, groping your ass then landing a harsh smack that made you squeak.

“Go ahead, baby no one’s stopping you. Do what you want to” You knew he wanted you to grind on his knee so you can see how much of a desperate little slut you are. And as much as you wanted to continue being a brat, you also know that that’s what you’re dying to do.

Another harsh smack landed on your ass making you mewl and jerk forward causing friction against your cunt.

“Fuck sweetie, your princess parts getting nice and wet for me? Can smell you already…” He groaned.

The friction felt so good that you involuntarily started grinding your cunt on his knee.

“Thaaat’s it. See how much fun we can have when you’re a good girl?” Another smack landed on your pink tinted cheeks, this one a little softer than the other two.

“Mm, yeaaaa gonna cum, sir” you whined out.

“Oh yeah? You gonna make a mess in those little panties? Hm?” he was taunting you but it was just what you needed to send you right over the edge. You felt your eyes roll back into your skull as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you. His word turning your brain into a mushy mess of submission.

“Thereeeee we go baby, what a sweet girl.”

You couldn’t even register a thought other than feeling his overwhelming dominant presence. Your brain just consisted of him, him, him. And it felt so good. No words came out of your mouth but he already knew what you needed.

“Come here” he brought you fully onto his lap so you’re straddling him. You buried your face in his neck and he caressed your back.

“Need you, Logan.” was all you manage to get out.

He let out a hearty chuckle and pulled you in for a kiss, thrusting his hips up slightly to remind you of the very large tent in his pants.

“I think we should take this part to the bed yeah?”

this is completely self indulgent and also my first time writing something so elaborative. so i’m sorry if it makes no sense lol just wanted to get my thoughts out there. also was not proof read so sorry for any grammatical mistakes :/

[gojo-mochi]

Dear Softy 💐 I come to humbly (&on my knees) ask for any sort of continuation to the 5 times nanami was sorry piece. I'm not a rereader, but I've read yours so many times I lost count, and nothing else hits the same. :(

HAHA Thank you for continuing to enjoy that fic <3 I still think it's one of my best works, so I'm glad someone likes it that much.

This part wont have reader in it! It set in before reader and Nanami had sex. But from Nanami POV now. So you get to see a little bit more from his mindset and what he’s like out of work hehe.

Part of this fic 5 Times with Nanami...

Satoru changed the group name to “The Skibidi Squad”

Suguru: … do I even want to ask

Ieiri: I’m too tired to even change it back, whatever

Yu: I saw some people in last night’s game say that in chat! 

Ieiri: Yu stop playing those games with Gojo and Geto, it's bad for your brain and mental health tbh

Yu: :c 

Suguru: Hey! Don’t lump me in with Satoru like that, we would have won that game if we didn’t have a monkey for a jungler…

Satoru: Alright, now that I gathered everyone here… (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Ieiri: You didn’t gather anyone.. This is a group chat

Satoru: ANYWAY! I have serious news that need addressing right NOWW 

┬─┬ノ(ಠ_ಠノ)

Suguru: I’ll bite, what is it

Satoru: I know you already bite ( •̀ω•́ )σ

Ieiri Kicked Satoru out of “The Skibidi Squad” 

Suguru Added Satoru back to “The Skibidi Squad”

Ieiri: Of course you would

Suguru: If I didn’t I would had to deal with him whining about it for hours

Satoru: First off, Rude. Secondly, NANAMIN HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND HE DIDN’T TELL US ( ≧Д≦)

Yu: :0

Ieiri: We know

Suguru: ^^ Technically not his girlfriend yet I think, but she’s pretty cute

Satoru: You guys all knew and didn’t tell me??!?! Traitors! 凸(｀0´)凸

Shoko: I knew because Nanami asked me advice on what kinda cologne girls would prefer

Suguru: I saw him ordering more than usual at the bakery and it was easy to put 2 and 2 together ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yu: I didn’t know :c

Satoru: Haibara, it’s you and me against the world (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Nanami: …

Satoru: Well, well, well… the traitor finally shows up

Nanami left “The Skibidi Squad”

Satoru: WAITIIITSKDJF

Satoru: WHA- HE BLCOKED ME SOMEONE ADD HIM BACK

Ieiri: Yu don’t add him back

Yu: Oki! C:

Satoru: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nanami sighs to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. Silencing his phone and pocketing it as he walks on forward. He was already close to his destination and didn’t need to look at the map anymore or be spammed by Gojo’s annoying pestering. A quick turn into a shady alleyway, and Nanami was soon greeted by the neon lights welcoming sign of a bar called “The Devil’s Chainsaw”, an odd name with an even odder bartender. 

Shoko liked coming to this bar though, and this is where he agreed to meet with her tonight, so he had no complaints as long as the alcohol was good. As Nanami stepped inside the bar, he was instantly met with the smell of cigarettes. Shoko peered over to him; she was sitting at the end of the bar, dressed in slacks and a dark sweater. She waved him over with a hand as she finished her conversation with the bartender. 

The redheaded bartender looked over to Nanami as he took the seat next to Shoko; her strikingly odd eyes were a stark contrast to her soft, dulcet voice. 

“What can I get for you, sir?”

"Just a whisky sour would be fine.”

The bartender nods and leaves the two to converse among themselves. Shoko lightly taps Nanami’s knee with her hand and smiles at him. 

“So, Lovebird, how’s the seducing going?”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitches at that, and he turns to look at Shoko with a withering stare. Which she paid no mind to, just taking a long drag of her cigarette, waiting for his answer. 

The bartender comes back with two drinks for them, a whiskey sour and a black russian. Nanami takes his drink and gulps down half of it, his heart feeling unusually tight tonight. 

“Don’t call me that, and I’m not sure how the... seducing is going.”

His tongue rolls over the word “seducing” like it was a foreign language to him. Shoko hums in response, swirling her drink softly as she leans back in her chair. The light jazz music fills in the silence between them, a comfortable silence that these two were used to. No annoying laugh or taunts from a certain white-haired man to dampen the mood. 

After a while, Shoko spoke up one more, with a question that had been on her mind for a while now. 

“So, tell me, what was it about her that made you fall in love with her?” 

Nanami jumped a little in his seat, feeling his ears burn at the question. He calls the bartender down for another drink and slams down the rest of his drink before even thinking about an answer. 

Once his new drink comes in, he takes a hard swig and sighs deeply. Looking down at his drink instead of Shoko so as not to feel embarrassed while remembering the story of why he fell in love with you.  

Flashback cutscene woooosh

It was back during a very important work event—a collaboration with a different company right before Christmas. Everyone was praying on this event going well to secure the deal with this company and go back home with a smile and a big fat holiday bonus. And Nanami was appointed to lead this event—to greet all the higher-ups, plan the itinerary, and basically do all the work. 

Everything was riding on Nanami’s shoulders, all the pressure from not only his bosses but his fellow coworkers as well. Even just a tiny slip-up will make everyone turn to him with disdain in their eyes. At least, that was what Nanami felt like at the time; he needed to make this event work and make everyone happy, at the cost of his own sanity. 

And with little to no sleep, countless nights planning the event down to each second, and a fake happy-go-lucky attitude he put on, the work event went amazingly. Everyone was happy, toasting and drinking the night away. Nanami managed to sneak away during all the merriment, stumbling his way to a nearby park and slouching down on a bench. All the tension in his body still wounding up his insides as he takes off his glasses and throws an arm over his eyes.

Ignoring everything around him, just wanting a moment of peace for himself for once. To throw away his mask for this brief moment where no one’s watching. The bench underneath him was hard on his back, but Nanami ignored it, focusing on the surroundings around him instead, the wind brushing past the trees, the rustling sounds of leaves, and the smell of frost in the air.

Just being in a suit did little to combat the chill, but Nanami couldn’t be bothered to go back inside right now; he was gonna risk being sick over having to do small talk again. He huddled his jacket as close as he could to his body and pretended he wasn’t shivering a little from the cold. Laying his head sideways on the wooden bench with his knees bunched up to his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to to will himself into a slumber. 

Sleep overtook him like a haunting lullaby; the weight in his shoulders still ache, the wind never slowed down, but soon the chills and the murmurs of the air around him felt almost comforting in a way. 

Nanami didn’t know how much time had passed by the time he woke up, but he knew something was off, though. His head was resting on something much softer than a wooden board; he felt warm and cozy, and even his shoulder’s pain had lessened somehow. 

He groaned and shifted his head around to see what was happening around him. He was still in the same park he fell asleep in; he shifted around again when he heard a noise coming from right above his head. He blinks away his grogginess, trying to see what was in front of him. 

“Nanami-san?”

A voice calls out to him in a soft tone, so pure and sweet to his ears that he almost wants to close his eyes and fall asleep again while listening to it. 

“Nanami-san, are you alright?” 

Nanami grunts in response, knowing that he shouldn’t be falling asleep again, especially in front of a stranger, no matter how angelic he finds their voice. His eyes adjusted back to normal finally, and he found himself looking up at not a stranger, but his coworker. 

“L/N-san?”

He rasps out, finding his throat and lips to be dry, he reaches to rub at his throat. You also reach out, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to feel for a fever. Nanami leans in to your palm, almost feeling disappointed when you pull away; you don’t notice anything, though. 

“You don’t seem like you have a fever… Are you feeling alright? You were gone for a bit, and I got worried. The others told me not to worry, but I came to check anyway.” 

Nanami didn’t respond, causing you to worry even more; he was just staring at you with a quizzical look in his eyes. You reach out to him again, calling his name in a soft tone, which makes Nanami's eyes shoot wide open. With his senses flooding back into him all at once, Nanami realizes a few things. 

One, that he actually did fall asleep in a random park with no fear for his safety on a cold winter night. Two, not only did he decide to sleep in a random park, he also did it during a large celebratory party for his company, without saying a word about leaving to anyone at the party. And lastly, he was resting his head on the very soft lap of his coworker in the middle of the night. 

As much as he wanted to jump up and run away and forget about this embarrassing moment. Nanami calmly sat up, looked down, and realized that you had given him your jacket, returned said jacket to you, and got up from the bench. 

Facing away from you, so you don’t see the blush covering his face, Nanami thanks you for coming to check on him. 

“Thank you, L/N-san, for the jacket and everything.” 

You got up from the bench as well, putting your jacket back on and going to stand next to Nanami. 

“Of course! I still seriously can’t believe no one else wanted to come find you. Honestly…” You huff and shake your heads, remembering how everyone brushed your concerns off back at the party. 

“Still, are you sure you’re alright, Nanami-san? This wasn’t like the usual you, you know?” You pause and shuffle on your feet for a bit before saying the next part. 

“Ah, sorry if that was too personal of me to say. This event was a really huge deal for us, and I want to say thank you.” You turn to face him with a bright smile and a soft blush on your face. 

“Thank you for working so hard for us, Nanami-san. I-..we really appreciate it, and I hope you know that.” 

Feeling a tinge awkward for saying that, you immediately turned back around and started heading back to the hotel first, waving back to Nanami, telling him not to stay in the cold for too long. 

Nanami stood there in that spot for a while after you left, his brain etching every single word that came out of your lips, how your hair looked, the colors of your lips, the scent of your perfume. It was like Cupid came and stuck him in his heart at that very moment. Nanami never heard praise for doing a good job before; it wasn’t like he needed it; at least he thought he didn’t. The results should be enough for Nanami and everyone to be happy. But seeing your bright smile and your kind words being directed at him, that changed something in Nanami that night. 

Flashback end :) 

“Helloooo? Earth to Nanami?”

Shoko’s voice shakes Nanami out of his head. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. 

“Are you gonna tell me the reason why you like this chick now or what?”

Nanami smiles to himself, swirling around his drink in his hand and simply said. 

“She has a cute smile, that’s all.”

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: I’m going out for a run. Asher: ‘kay. Atlas: Looks like the taco stand is open today. I can bring back lunch. Asher: ‘kay.

Atlas: Are you sure you’re alright? Asher: Yeah. I’m fine, I promise, I’m just tired. Atlas: Hm.

[Knock at the door]

Atlas: For the record, I don’t believe you. But I can wait til you’re ready to talk.

Atlas: Hey Lex. Lex: Where is he? Atlas: On the couch. I think he needs you. Lex: I’m on it.

Lex: Baaabe, you look so sad. Asher: I am sad. Lex: Are you really watching Lost Dog’s Journey Home right now? Asher: What? It’s my comfort movie.

Asher: What are you doing? Lex: I am curing your sadness with cuddles. Asher: Feels more like you’re crushing me. Lex: Well, in the words of my comfort movie, [in her best old lady voice] “It has to hurt if it’s to heal.”

Asher: [small chuckle] I don’t think this is what she meant. Lex: It could be. You laughed. Asher: … Lex: Do you want me to move? Asher: … No. Lex: Didn’t think so.

Lex: I’m sorry about Jasper. Asher: Thanks. Me too. Lex: Congrats on getting married, though. That’s exciting. Asher: Yeah, I’m really happy. Lex: Wow. Convincing.

Asher: I am! I just… [groans in frustration] I feel weird. Lex: Alright. Sit up. Talk to me.

Lex: Now, what do you mean “weird”?

Asher: I don’t know. It’s like… when we went to Selvadorada… it feels like the world we left is not the same world we came home to. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Everything looks and feels and even smells different.

Lex: To be fair, when you came home, you’d lost a dog and gained a husband. You’re starting a new chapter in your life. Things are bound to feel a little different. Off even.

Asher: I guess. And it’s not just those things. We’re giving our notice at work on Monday, and we’re gonna start looking for a new apartment. New career, new home, all of which are things that I want, things I even suggested, but I can’t get myself to be happy or even excited. I just feel…

Lex: Overwhelmed? Asher: Maybe. And, as if that isn’t enough, there’s something else. Lex: There’s more? Babe, no wonder you’re paralyzed on this couch. You need to slow down. Asher: That doesn’t feel like an option. Lex: Of course it is. Asher: …

Lex: Okay, well, look, everyone is coming to my place tomorrow. You should come. Hang out with friends and take your mind off things for a bit. Asher: I don’t know. I feel like I’d be such a downer. I don’t want everyone to see me like this. Lex: Maybe it will boost your mood. You might even have fun. Asher: …

Lex: Just stop by. You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want, but at least come say hello. Asher: … Lex: Please? Asher: [nods] Okay. You’re right. It might be good to see some friendly faces, get out of my head for a bit.

Lex: That’s the spirit! Asher: Ahhh [laughs] What the hell?! Lex: I love you.

Asher: Love you too. Now get off me please. Lex: Only if you let me pick a movie for us. Asher: Fine. Atlas is bringing home tacos. Should I have him grab you some? Lex: Obviously!  

[fxstpace]

in the spirit of matrimony

summary: iwaizumi hajime is getting married and you and your ex, oikawa tooru, must pretend you’re still together to avoid ruining his big day. the charade, however, proves to be a lot more complicated than you thought.

pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, exes to lovers!au, fake dating!au word count: 3.0k

↳ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption ↳ a/n: reposted from my old blog (@/sokuroo). a little bit of info on some terms used: an izakaya is a type of informal japanese bar; oshibori is a wet towel offered at dining places used to clean one’s hands before eating; otoshi is an appetizer offered at izakaya

Oikawa Tooru is currently using the shower in your hotel room, and you are running late for dinner with Iwaizumi Hajime because of this.

You sit on the plush armchair in the corner of the room, picking at the raised swirls and curlicues embroidered on the cushion. You’re supposed to be meeting with Iwaizumi for dinner in fifteen minutes, but Oikawa seems to be taking his own sweet time getting ready. You can’t say you’re surprised. 

Irritated? Yes.

When he finally bursts out of the bathroom, looking like a Louis Vuitton model, you simply grab your purse and hotel card, and stride out the door without a second glance. Oikawa Tooru isn’t worth your time or energy—for now.

He catches up with you quickly—volleyball legs, and all that—and you can smell his perfume: Cremo spice and black vanilla. You hate the fact that you remember; you’d rather not, but he hasn’t changed the scent in five years and it’s always the little things that are the hardest to forget. In his black button down shirt and with his hair styled carefully with gel, Oikawa definitely looks attractive. He knows it, too, probably, and it gives you a twisted sort of satisfaction knowing that he can’t go about flirting with every person who catches his eye.

He simply cannot, because as far as Iwaizumi Hajime is concerned, you and Oikawa are still together.

“Don’t forget,” you mutter, just low enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand dismissively before tucking it back into his pocket. “It’s just Hajime. Don’t worry.”

You bite back a sigh. It would do you no good to appear so visibly vexed—and it would cause Hajime to worry unnecessarily, which does a lot more harm to everyone involved. The only thing you want him to be worried about is wedding preparations and becoming a husband in three days. 

Your old friend meets you at the hotel lobby, right before Oikawa furtively slips his hand into yours. Iwaizumi looks tired—his clothes look rumpled and he has dark circles under his eyes—but he still smiles at you and Oikawa in the same way: boyish and crooked. You grin back at him.

“Hey, you two.” Iwaizumi opens his arms and pulls you in for a hug. His stubble brushes against your cheek, and you frown. 

“You’re growing a beard?” you ask incredulously, when you pull away.

He chuckles. “I wish. I need to look handsome on the day of the wedding. Akari thinks it makes me look rugged.” He shrugs and adds, “Personally, I can’t tell the difference.”

“How’s Mrs. Iwaizumi doing?” Oikawa cuts in. He smiles at his best friend, a quick flash of his teeth that you haven’t seen in ages. It almost makes you wish he still smiled at you like that. Almost.

“Akari’s great,” Hajime answers, the edges of his smile turning fond. His fiancé is truly the sweetest, and she’s perfect for Iwaizumi in ways no one else ever could be. It’s difficult to doubt their love, and you consider yourself lucky to have witnessed them falling for each other in college. “Really great, actually. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it today, but she can’t wait to see you both tomorrow.”

Your ex-boyfriend sighs dramatically. “Iwa-chan. The only entertaining person of the evening is missing. Whatever shall I do?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will provide ample entertainment, Oikawa,” Hajime deadpans.

Your cheeks flood with heat at the implication. You’re the furthest thing from being Oikawa Tooru’s entertainment tonight, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s laughing internally at the predicament.

“She’s good at entertaining me with other things,” he retorts, waggling his eyebrows in that infuriating way of his. “Not funny enough, unfortunately.”

You bristle. “Uncalled for, Oikawa.”

He turns to you—the first time he’s looked at you properly since you arrived at the hotel in their hometown—and, taking your hand in his, rubs his thumb along the back of your palm. You nearly shiver; Oikawa used to do that all the time when you were still together, and the small gesture now makes a lump form in your throat. 

“Just kidding, babe,” he says indulgently. “You know I make up for the lack of humour on your part.”

You have to give it to him. Oikawa Tooru is a magnificent actor. 

The way he talks to you, as though both of you hadn’t walked out of the hotel room without saying a word to each other is a feat in itself. He speaks to you as though nothing has changed, as though everything about the way you’re projecting yourselves to your friend is completely natural. You close the hole in your chest where Oikawa used to reside; you will not fall for his little antics—not when he chose to leave you alone.

You roll your eyes, meeting Hajime’s fond—if exasperated—gaze. “Ignore him.”

“I’ve been doing it my entire life,” he responds.

“You are mean and I hate you both,” Oikawa whines. Both of you ignore him.

“Let’s go,” Hajime says. “The izakaya gets really crowded later in the night.”

You wipe your hands on the soft cotton of the oshibori, scanning the menu taped onto the wall. Next to you, Oikawa digs into the otoshi, and in front of you, Hajime sips on his glass of beer. 

“Yakisoba noodles sounds good,” you murmur, “don’t you think?”

“I wan’ the chmmkn kraagh,” Oikawa says immediately through a mouthful of potato salad.

Iwaizumi sighs and translates, “He wants the chicken karaage.”

You scowl. You and Oikawa Tooru can never agree about things. You’re both too stubborn and hot-headed to budge from your opinions, and towards the end of your relationship, the number of petty arguments that were a result of your clashing personalities was high. At one point of time, you might have said that it was one of Oikawa’s qualities that you admired.

Right now, it just irks you to no end.

“We can order both,” you suggest. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He makes a show of swallowing, exaggerating the bob of his throat, before he turns to you and states, “I want the chicken karaage, and I know Iwa-chan likes it more than yakisoba noodles.”

“Actually,” Hajime says mildly, “I kind of want the sashimi.”

“Let’s just order all three.” You bring your glass of beer to your lips and take a sip.

Iwaizumi looks curiously between you both. You take another sip of your beer, and you come to the realisation that for an outsider—like Hajime—you and Oikawa look absolutely nothing like a couple.

The fault is yours: You didn’t tell Hajime about your break up with Oikawa, and neither did he. Hajime still thinks you’re together. Neither you nor your ex-boyfriend are tactless enough to tell him that you aren’t dating anymore three days before he’s getting married. Iwaizumi is excited, and you aren’t about to dampen his happiness by telling him his two best friends haven’t spoken to each other in months.

That’s how, for the first time in ages, you and Oikawa Tooru decided that you couldn’t ruin Iwaizumi Hajime’s Big Day, and it was also how Operation: Pretend Like You’re Madly In Love So Your Surprisingly Intuitive Best Friend Doesn’t Feel Bad came about.

You set your beer down again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Can I try some of that?” you ask, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder with yours.

He pauses mid-chew, chopsticks held high in the air. “Sure.”

You nudge his shoulder again, a little bit more forcefully this time. Oikawa glares at you. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to send him some sort of telepathic signal. His eyes widen.

“Here, babe,” he says, plastering a grin on his face. He picks up a chunk of the creamy potato salad that was served as the otoshi and holds it up. He uses his thumb and pointer finger to gently bring your face closer to his chopsticks. You fist your fingers, nails cutting crescents into your palms, and accept the mouthful he holds out to you.

“Good?” Oikawa murmurs, his eyes not leaving your face.

You hum. It is good, rich and tart with a touch of sweetness, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to verbalise it. Your gaze flits downwards as you gently pull away from his grasp. Your jaw tingles where he held it.

Iwaizumi grins at you—almost knowingly—when you pick up your beer again. He holds a hand up, calling for the waiter to take your orders.

The alcohol washes down the taste of the food, but your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

It is always alcohol that loosens your tongue, and it’s the same for Oikawa Tooru as well. The beer you had at the izakaya lowers the towering walls between you both somewhat. It’s easier to speak to him, now, and after you switch on the lights in the hotel room and kick off your sandals, you whirl around and face Oikawa.

“What the hell was that?” you seethe, glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

He pauses in the middle of taking off his shoes. “What the hell was what?”

“You almost blew our cover! Didn’t you see the way Hajime looked at us?”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, and his cluelessness only infuriates you even more.

“God, you haven’t changed one bit!” you rant. Your chest heaves with emotion—you’re not sure what emotion, exactly. Anger? Resentment? Foolish hope? Or perhaps a cocktail of all three that causes you to feel nothing but confusion. “Hajime is getting married in two days, and I know you couldn’t care less, but for his sake, can’t you make this whole—whole act more believable?”

“You— What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Oikawa’s eyebrows raise upwards incredulously. “You think I don’t care about Iwaizumi’s wedding? I met him before I even knew you existed.” He scoffs. “Of fucking course I care!”

“Then would it kill you to act like you still love me?” You take a step forward, eyes narrowed and index finger pointing at him. “Is that it? Is it so repulsive to pretend like you still have feelings for me, so that your best friend doesn’t worry about us?”

“That’s not it, and you know it,” Oikawa snarls, a frown marring his features. “We should’ve told him as soon as it happened.”

Hearing him refer to your relationship as it feels like a slap to the face. You falter, cursing yourself inwardly.

Of course he doesn’t care for you now. Why would he, after he decided that long-distance relationships were too much effort? I don’t see us working out in the long run, he’d explained over FaceTime. I’m sorry.

Two days later, you declared yourself officially single. You burrowed yourself in piles of work and forgot to tell Iwaizumi Hajime because talking to Hajime would remind you of Oikawa, and you weren’t ready for that yet. Eventually, you just… didn’t tell him.

That’s why it came as an unwelcome surprise to you when you walked into the hotel lobby and found Oikawa Tooru waiting there, with his arms crossed over his chest and his suitcase by his feet. You’re here, he’d said, and you wanted to punch yourself for the way your heart somersaulted in your chest.

You finally find your voice again. “But we didn’t, so would it kill you to just… not be so fucking obvious?”

Oikawa remains stoic, though you suspect he’s just as agitated as you are. “Yes. I don’t want to do this at all.”

Something in you breaks. How easy it is for Oikawa to break your heart. You’d given him the fragile thing, made of glass, and he had knocked it over like it was a house of cards more than once. 

“Fine,” you grit out, bending down and picking up your footwear again. The alcohol buzzing in your head isn’t enough—you need to stop thinking, need to find some way to stop yourself from constantly imagining him. “See if I care.”

You shoulder past him and place your hand on the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

If you really strained your ears, you could almost hear the imperceptible concern in Oikawa’s voice. You brush it off; he doesn’t have any feelings towards you, as he’s made so amply clear.

“Why do you care?” you retort, before pushing open the door and heading in the direction of the hotel restaurant’s bar.

The room is dark when you open the door.

It’s a little past one in the morning—or so one of the bellhops had said when he kindly escorted you back to your room. Your mind is swirling.

It seems even getting yourself batshit drunk isn’t enough to eradicate all thoughts of Oikawa.

The walls spin. You stumble inside. Your hip bumps against something solid—a table, probably—and you let out a startled yelp. 

Oikawa’s voice is like a balm, soothing your feverish forehead, when he says your name.

How are you supposed to get over him? How are you supposed to go back to living alone when you’ve had this taste of what it could be like, regardless of how authentic it is?

The answer is clear as day: You cannot.

A pair of hands guides you by the shoulders to the bed. Oikawa is careful, gentle with his hold on you. You sprawl on the bed sheets, the fabric cool against your cheek. He appears like an outline in the darkness. 

“Are you okay?”

“God,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Oikawa.”

He remains silent for a moment, before he clears his throat and says, “You asked me why I care about where you go.”

You don’t say anything.

“I just do,” he continues, “and I don’t know how to explain it. But I do care.”

His fingers are warm when he caresses your cheek. The last thing you do before succumbing to sleep is murmur his name—a curse, but somehow reverent.

When you wake up the next morning, the sheets next to you are rumpled. There is no sign of Oikawa anywhere in the room, but there is a tall glass of water placed on the bedside table.

Through the pounding of your head, you squint at the note written using the hotel stationery placed beside it. 

Drink up. Hajime and Akari are bringing us breakfast.

Breakfast is a lively affair. You’re glad to see Akari again, happy to see the to-be-newlyweds so patently in love with each other.

Oikawa keeps his hand on your thigh, steady and comforting, and offers you golden smiles whenever you catch his eye, and you swallow down the awful lump in your throat.

The day passes by in a blur.

It’s on the day before Iwaizumi’s wedding that Oikawa Tooru kisses you.

Wedding photos are unnecessary, you think. After all, you’re not the one getting married. But Akari had been insistent that you and Oikawa take some pictures together, and you couldn’t refuse her beseeching gaze.

Oikawa, clad in his dapper suit, with his hair styled using copious amounts of hair gel, places his hands on your waist and draws you in. His fingers bunch up the material of your dress. The photographer asks you to place your hands on his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum underneath the pads of your fingertips. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, leaning in. 

You nod.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and the chocolate muffins he’d shared with you at breakfast. 

The afternoon passes by in a daze.

As you walk through the wedding venue, noting all the decorations and the flower arrangements, Oikawa slips his hand into yours. 

“You don’t have to,” you say. “No one’s here to see us.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. He is serious now, not his usual boisterous self, the way he is around Hajime and Akari. “It’s a nice place, no?”

You press your lips together. His words are oddly reminiscent of what he said the night you were drunk. Your stomach twists into knots, but if you don’t ask him the one question that has been nagging at you since then, who will do it for you?

“Tooru,” you say.

He stiffens. It’s the first time you’ve used his first name since you broke up with him.

“Why didn’t you tell Hajime we broke up?” you ask.

His shoulders loosen and his mouth twists upwards in a crooked, sad sort of smile. 

“Because I love you, and breaking up with you broke me in some way.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why did you?”

“I didn’t want to be the one holding you back,” he says, just as quietly. “I didn’t want you to be constantly worrying about someone who didn’t even live in the same country as you. You deserve someone who will be there for you. Someone you can come home to after work, and talk about your day, and cook dinner together with. I couldn’t give you that.”

You want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. What a stupid, idiotic fool you’re in love with.

“Silly,” you say. “I only want you.”

The wedding happens on a sunny afternoon, and it is beautiful. Akari is radiant, and Hajime tells her that he’s the luckiest man ever. They are in love, and looking at them doesn’t hurt anymore. Your ex-boyfriend turned current boyfriend presses his shoulder against yours and gives you a small, knowing smile when he catches you almost tearing up. You nudge him back, and his smile grows into a grin that envelops his face in gold.

(“You’re the golden one,” he’ll tell you later, pressing feather-light kisses to your collarbones and cheeks. You’ll say he’s wrong.)

Right before the crowd disperses, Oikawa takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger.

Later, he whispers to you that it’s all in the spirit of matrimony.

Oikawa Tooru is using the shower in your bedroom, and he’s running late to catch his flight back to Argentina, and everything is perfect.

[presleyslilbaby]

~A Little Picky~

(50’s!Elvis X Reader)

Elvis gets the slightest bit picky over placement.

Elvis had such a long, eventful day, and boy was he ready for rest. He spent all day running around doing this-and-that, just doing whatever his new manager told him to do. But at least he knew he could come back to his beautiful Sweetheart. Walking sluggishly through the front door, Elvis smiled when he saw Y/n - His Y/n already there to greet him home. “Hey, li’l Dolly.” He smiled, opening his arms in invitation. “Hi, Baby.” Y/n greeted back, wrapping her arms around him in a sweet and loving embrace. “Mm…I could tell already how tired you are.” She chuckled, reaching a hand up to brush away a few strands of his mussed hair, long since fallen out of its neat and tidy shape of style. “That obvious?” Elvis rubbed at the corner of his eye with his middle finger, the soft smile remaining on his face. “Oh, I’m not so sure. You tell me.” She teases back, grabbing his free hand and proceeding to give it a gentle tug. “Come on, then. Let’s get you sat down.” He had obediently followed Y/n when she coaxed for him, letting out a long sigh when he sat down on the plush sofa, already feeling the smallest bit of tension in his body release. “I’m not sure if I like your new manager.” She admitted, resting her hands on his shoulders and gently beginning to massage the area. “Mhm…I’m not sure how to feel yet either, but I s’pose he’s gettin’ me somewhere. Down a little, Doll.” Elvis responded with his own opinion, coordinating Y/n’s hands simultaneously. She obeys, moving her hands downward for him just as he asked, continuing to massage him. “I just worry, El…You know I do.” “I know, and I think that’s real sweet o’ ya’, Baby- Over to the left -But you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’. Go up.” Sighing lightly, Y/n shakes her head gently. “I worry because I love you. So I’m sorry, but not worrying is just physically impossible for me.” She half-jokes toward the end of her sentence. “Well I love ya’ too, Darlin’. More than you could ever know. Massage there- No, to your right. Now go up a little. Yeah, that’s good…To the right a little more.” It was at that moment that Y/n realised that Elvis was starting to become real picky about where he wanted her hands, deciding to remove them with a smile tugging at her lips. Elvis whines like a child, tipping his head back before whining some more. “Y/n…I didn’t say you could stop…” He grumbled in mock annoyance. “You’re very picky.” She observed, resting her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “Am not.” He replied. “Are too.” “Nuh-uh. No way.” “Yes way. You’re very picky.” Y/n giggled, cupping his cheeks and pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. Elvis melts beneath her touch, her lips, a lovesick smile gracing his own. “Okay, maybe just a little picky.” He admitted.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

The Use of the Heart

Good evening, followers! I've got a new story for y'all. ~9.8k words. Yeah, this one's long. If you'd like to toss me a tip for it, you can drop one on my ko-fi page here. It...did take me three weeks to write this one.

Avery hadn’t gotten more than a foot out of the carriage after his sister before she was whisked away to meet her new husband. He stumbled the rest of the way out onto the stone courtyard and nearly fell on his face. “Wai—”

He bit his tongue before he could finish the protest. They were here so Lisette could meet her new husband. If the crown prince wanted to meet her fresh off the ship that had brought them here, smelling like dead fish and stale sweat from not being able to properly bathe for two weeks, then…

Then, well, at least all the treaties were already signed in case he changed his mind.

Avery righted himself. The handful of attendants Lisette had brought with her were already busy unloading her trunks and consulting with people he didn’t recognize—probably their counterparts in Alham. They would know where he was meant to go.

He made a beeline for Robin, the woman in charge of his sister’s affairs, who was blushing and smiling at a man with dark hair and neat, plain clothes in the dark blue that was Alham’s royal colors. Someone who worked for Lisette’s new husband, maybe. He pointed Robin off, and Avery immediately took her place. “Hello. I was hoping you could help me.”

The man gave him a once over that no one had ever given Avery before, then said, “With what exactly?”

“I’ve just arrived with the rest of the contingent from Ensheren. I was hoping you knew where to steer me.”

“You don’t already know what you should be doing?”

Avery’s face turned an unflattering shade of pink at the incredulity in his voice. “I’m only here to keep my sister company and help her settle into her new home. Unfortunately, as she’s already been escorted off without me to see her new husband, I’m at loose ends in the meantime. You could tell me where her rooms are and I can start there.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Siste—Ensheren sent one of its princes? Your Highness, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t told you were coming.”

Avery’s heel dug into the stone under the sole of his boot, twisting anxiously. He was too tired to deal with this. “Not one of the important ones, I’m afraid. After you’ve had your heir, your spare, your backup spare, one to handle the people, and one to handle the military, you run out of things to do with princes.”

One dark eyebrow went up. “Your parents had quite a few children.”

“They were hoping for Lisette after the second set of twins,” Avery said. “My name is Avery. And I really am here to help my sister adjust. If you could tell me where her rooms are, that would be a good start. I can help set it up for her before she returns.”

The man stared at him quietly for another long moment before saying, “Your Highness…I apologize for the bluntness, but you look like you’re about to keel over. I don’t think you’ll be much help with anything your sister needs. Give me a moment to settle things here.” He reached out and steadied Avery’s arm, and Avery was startled to find he’d been listing to one side. “You’ll be okay to wait?”

Avery nodded, and shook himself to wake up a bit more. It had taken him the entire two weeks to stop vomiting over the edge of the ship, just in time to land and find his legs wobbly again.

The man frowned at him, but let go and turned away to speak to some of the others bustling back and forth over the courtyard while Avery tried to gain his footing. He hadn’t felt so bad sitting in the carriage, but now that he was standing in full sun without Lisette, his vision was starting to blur with exhaustion.

Fortunately, his guide was back before Avery could do something stupid, like pass out on the stone in front of everyone. And he frowned the second he saw Avery. “Would you like an arm?”

Avery paused for a second. Then he said, “Yes. Please. Thank you. Whatever accepts the offer fastest.”

The man laughed, warm and full and genuine, then took Avery’s bag from him and wrapped an arm around Avery’s ribs. Avery tilted his head against the man’s shoulder and let him lead him into the—castle? Palace? Avery wasn’t sure. But it was less of a fortress than Ensheren’s royal residences. A good place for his sister to call home.

Inside was cooler, and Avery felt better immediately. His guide shifted his arm so at least a quarter of Avery’s weight was resting on his shoulder, and Avery let his settle against it, too. It was the first time since he’d gotten on that damn boat that he felt stable and his stomach stopped churning. But maybe that was because his guide smelled soothing and warm, like ginger cookies, or…or cinnamon. Whatever it was, Avery’s stomach stopped rolling over.

He managed to lift his head enough to look around as his guide practically dragged him through the polished hallways. He didn’t absorb most of it—just the impression of dark wood panels, wide windows letting in bright sunlight, and sculptures and paintings at every intersection. They passed through a set of heavy double doors in carved wood, and then into a smaller door down the hallway from that, and his guide let him go to stand on his own again.

They were in private chambers. Empty ones. Two doors were set against the far wall, and another one to Avery’s left. Between them were three couches and two armchairs, and one large table.

“These are my rooms,” his guide said. “You can bathe here and then take a nap while we wait for your sister and Kavi to come up for air and remember anyone else exists.”

“Kavi?” Avery asked.

“My brother,” his guide said. “Your sister’s new husband.”

“Your—your brother?”

His guide smiled at him. “My brother.”

The floor felt closer than it should have. “King Solon,” Avery said. “I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty. No one ever told me what you looked like.”

“I’d gathered,” the king said. “And no one told me you were coming. We’ll just have to both forgive each other. The bath is over here. I’ll find something for you to wear and I’ll put it in the dressing room.”

He left Avery alone in an alcove off of a bathing room with a bench. Avery sat down abruptly and pressed his face into his hands. He’d spent at least fifteen minutes using the king of a foreign country—the one Lisette’s fate was in the hands of—as a crutch.

While smelling like a cheap fishmonger who didn’t know what hygiene was.

What a wonderful first impression Ensheren was making on their new allies.

~~~~~~~~

The bath was large enough for Avery to stretch out in and had taps that ran fresh hot water. He slid in with a sigh and opened the jars next to him, looking for shampoo and soap. The first one had the same strong ginger scent the king had when—

When Avery had practically shoved his nose into his neck.

His face went red, and it wasn’t from the steam of the bath water.

The bottle was thin oil, though, not proper soap or shampoo. Avery left it open to scent the air while he cleaned up, and it was thick and heady in the bathroom by the time he felt properly clean and presentable The king—or someone who worked for him—had left clean clothes in the sitting room on the bench. They weren’t from his luggage, but if he didn’t have a room, no one would have unpacked his things, either. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric, then pulled them on.

Soft pants, longer socks than Avery was used to, a shirt in a pale goldenrod color, and a dark blue tunic to go over it. He fiddled with the laces, unsure how tight Alham expected people to wear their clothing. Ensheren usually wore things closely fitted.

He tightened the waist in and tucked the extra lacing inside to hide it. Might as well remind the king he was from a foreign country. Maybe it would give him some grace for treating him like a walking stick.

His face flushed again at the memory, and he fiddled with his boots, waiting for the blush to fade before he stepped back into the sitting room.

The king was curled at a desk near one of the wide windows, feet tucked next to his legs. He glanced up from whatever he was writing when Avery joined him. “Feeling any better, Your Highness?”

Avery nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Solon. My name is Solon.”

Avery almost laughed in surprise. His breath came out in a sudden huff anyway. “You just called me Your Highness!”

Solon grinned. “You didn’t give me permission not to. I did.”

“I’ll call you by your name if you call me Avery,” he said.

“I think that’s a fair deal, Avery.” Solon made a soft humming sound. “You should get some sleep. I’m afraid they’re still cleaning up your rooms and hauling your things in there. It’ll be a few hours, I think.”

“I—”

“Are you not tired yet? If you want to stay up for a bit, I could use your help.”

The bath had woken Avery up, although he knew he’d fall asleep in minutes if he lay down. But he didn’t have a room yet, so did Solon want him to take his bed?

Avery tore his thoughts away from that. “What did you need?”

Solon waved to the chairs nearby. “Pull one of those up.”

Avery grabbed the nearest chair and slid it to where Solon pointed, then tucked himself into it while Solon rummaged for a clean sheet of paper. He handed Avery the pen. “Your family. I’m realizing I know very little about what my brother married into.”

Avery fiddled with the pen. “Then why did you agree to it?”

“Honestly, once I saw how Kavi reacted to your sister’s letters, I was sold on the arrangement. He…well. He liked what he learned of her immediately. And the details of treaties like this aren’t my job.”

Avery frowned. “You’re the king.”

Solon tilted his head. “I am. But I—well. Alham’s parliament decides what powers the monarch has. They vote on it every five years. And while the current officials are happy enough to have me help lead and oversee laws and even introduce some of my own, details of things like this are not my forte. Far more talented people than I do that.”

“They—vote? On what you’re allowed to do?”

Solon nodded. “The laws here don’t allow them to get rid of a monarch, exactly. But they can refuse to give an unpopular monarch or one no one trusts power until they abdicate. My grandfather was blocked from doing anything for three decades until he let my father take over. And my father only won their trust back by working his way up through the legislature and learning how it worked before they let him do anything.”

Avery cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I only had the time on the ship to read up on your country, and nothing like that was mentioned. I didn’t realize.”

Solon nudged the paper closer to Avery. “A family tree, please. And what each of you does. I’d ask your sister, but I’m not willing to interrupt newlyweds on their first day and night together.”

Aver turned pink at the implication. “I can do that.”

He drew marks for both his parents first, then took up the entire width of the paper to list out his brothers. “My father is the reigning king. He spends his days meeting with his advisors and the elected governors from each of the counties at home to make decisions and decide how they’re going to go be done.”

Avery drew two branches off the same root from his parents. “These are the oldest twins. Jamie is the heir. He spends his days shadowing our father and trying to learn everything and how to run things. He has two kids with his wife, but they’re both too young to take on any responsibilities yet. Zeke is second in line. He handles all the petitioners from around the country who arrive and need to speak to someone, and figures out how to resolve things. And if he can’t, he goes to Jamie and Dad.”

Avery drew another line. “And then the next twins, Jack and Max. Jack filters things for the older ones and makes sure that they’re not overwhelmed with too many things. He decides what’s most important to get their attention first, and redirects everyone else to other ways of handling issues.”

Solon hummed. “I think Jack was the one who first sent the letters of interest to me proposing I marry your sister.”

“You?”

Solon waved his hand. “Kavi was always more interested in marriage and children than I ever was. I suggested him to your brother instead, and he accepted. Your sister will still be the mother to any heirs. Alham doesn’t need a queen or a prince consort.”

“The…the prince consort?”

“The husband to the monarch. If I had one.”

Avery’s mouth fell open. The king could have a husband, if he wanted? Something burned in his stomach. His family had never said anything about his interest in other men, but Avery was—he was useless. And Ensheren didn’t need yet another heir. It was for the best he wouldn’t have any other children.

“The…the way your country works is very different than I’d imagined,” Avery said, choking back something clogging his throat to stare at the paper.

“I’m realizing that. Is marriage between two people of the same sex not allowed in Ensheren?”

Avery lifted one hand and found it shaking, and he waggled it back and forth. “No, we….we can, mostly. But the king…my father, or my brother, could never—they—they need to have children. Have direct heirs. It’s allowed for most people, but there are people with power who just. Can’t.”

Solon stared at his shaking hand for a long moment, then said, “Tell me about Max.”

Avery forced himself to look back at the paper. “Max does whatever he wants. He’s the most charming of us. He likes to mingle with the people in town and the rest of the country without going through proper channels. It’s hard to figure out when he’s in the castle and when he’s out. And he never tells anyone what he’s up to before goes and does it. Honestly, we usually hear of his escapades from the papers first. But it means he has more information on how things are going in the country than any of the rest of us. It’s why everyone likes him so much.”

“You like him,” Solon said.

“He’s everyone’s favorite brother,” Avery said. “Even Lisette’s.”

“And yet you’re here with her and not Max.”

“I don’t think Max has ever left the country. I don’t think he wants to. Besides, he’s busy. Formally, he’s in charge of most of the internal affairs of the country before anything has to be escalated.” Avery drew the next line before Solon could ask any more questions. “This is Lennox. He grew up watching after the knights training grounds and begging him to teach them, and joined up as soon as our father finally gave him permission. He’s worked his way up the ranks to be the Ensheren’s top general now.”

Avery drew two more lines. “This one is me. And then Lisette is the youngest. She was raised expecting to be married as part of a treaty, although we didn’t know it would be with Alham until the last couple of years. She’s ready to play her ambassador role. Don’t worry. She’ll be good at it.”

Solon pushed Avery’s hand back to the line for himself. “And what do you do? You didn’t say.”

“…Not…not much of anything,” Avery said. “By the time I was old enough to realize I needed to find something, my brothers already had things handled.” He shrugged. “Right now, I’m here to help Lisette get her bearings. That’s all.”

Solon watched him silently for a moment. Avery’s face went pink again, and he set the pen down. “Ensheren doesn’t need more royalty getting involved in things, and being given a job I’m not qualified to do would only cause more problems.”

Solon frowned, and Avery hated it. He knew he was useless. He knew he wasn’t contributing anything to his country the way royalty was supposed to. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that six princes was at least two too many, and while everyone had forgiven him for not having anything to prepare for in the future as a child, and he’d managed to put it off a few more years at university, every day since he’d turned twenty-five, more and more whispers had churned, wondering what his purpose was.

“I see,” Solon said finally. “Thank you. This will be helpful. Now, you should get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when our siblings come up for air, or when your rooms are ready. Whichever comes first.”

Avery took a slow breath to calm the frustration that had been building in his chest. Sleep. In Solon’s bed. But at least it would be in another room. “Thank you.”

Solon tilted his head. “There’re pillows on the couch over there. Do you want a blanket?”

Avery jolted in place. “No! No, that’s fine. Thank you.”

He turned away before Solon could read anything on his face and realize Avery had been thinking about Solon’s bed. Avery crossed the room to the couch and lay down, facing resolutely away from Solon.

He closed his eyes, took several slow breaths, and tried not wonder what Solon’s bed looked like.

~~~~~~~~

Solon woke Avery after true dark had fallen with a hand to his shoulder. Avery usually started awake when someone shook him, but this felt more like shifting awake on the boat, gentle and dizzying.

He blinked up at Solon in the dim lamplight, shaking himself to remind himself where he was. “Wha’ izzit?” he asked, and immediately clamped his mouth shut. If he couldn’t speak properly, he shouldn’t be talking at all.

Solon laughed. “Your room is ready for you, and your sister and my brother will be joining me for dinner soon. I thought you might want to change before they get here. You’re coming?”

Right. Avery was in borrowed clothing. “I should…definitely wear something…more presentable.” Even if Solon had seen him smelling and looking like a beached fish, the crown prince didn’t have to. And he was the one Avery should be focusing on, not Solon.

And what would Lisette have to say if Avery showed up to dinner looking rumpled and dressed in clothes that weren’t his?

…He definitely needed to change.

“I’d like to get ready,” he managed.

“Of course.” Solon helped him to his feet with a warm hand, soft except for the small finger callouses Avery was used to on artists. “I’ll show you your rooms. You can make it back here on your own, do you think, or would you like me to wait for you?”

Avery shrugged, and trailed quietly after Solon through the halls. Solon hummed something quietly to himself, but didn’t interrupt Avery’s contemplation of the palace walls now that he was awake enough to take it in properly.

The windows were wide and bright, the courtyards huge and full of gardens and not soldiers, and the walls hung with sculptures and paintings.

It felt safe. It would be a good place for Lisette to live. An unworried home without any need to be on guard constantly. Ensheren hadn’t seen a war in the last four decades, but the castle they’d been born into and all the ones they’d traveled between were still built with the lingering need to barricade in mind.

Solon’s home seemed more like a public showcase. Like it was designed to welcome people, like it belonged to the people, the way Solon’s job did.

Solon waved Avery into a series of small rooms—a bedroom, a small sitting room with a desk as if Avery had any guests to greet in Alham, and an attached washroom. Not lavish, but—it would do.

“It’s only two hallways,” Avery said. “I think I can make it back.”

Solon smiled. “Then I’ll see you shortly.”

Solon left him alone with a wave, and Avery dug through his wardrobe, pleased to find everything already unpacked and hung up for him. Avery didn’t normally fuss about his clothes, but normally he wasn’t meeting his sister’s husband.

Or trying to change someone’s horrible first impression of him. Avery was the useless prince of Ensheren, but he was still a prince. He could impress if he tried.

Hopefully.

He threw the borrowed—gifted—clothes onto his bed and swapped it out for his best pants, woven in a tight herringbone than shifted between gray and crimson, buttoned a gold shirt over it with dark brown buttons that matched his eyes, and wrapped it in place with a burgundy vest. Not the royal colors of Ensheren anymore than they were Alham’s—but they were Avery’s best colors, and he wanted to look nice. He rummaged through the wardrobe until he found his dark red coat and slid it on before brushing his hair out of the sleep mussed disaster and washed his face.

And then it was time to face Solon again.

Avery knocked at Solon’s door before opening it, and all three people in the room turned to him with a bright, “Avery!”

Avery froze at the sound of his name in unison from so many voices, then held up his hand to wave slightly, and drop it.

“Um. Hello.”

Solon smiled warmly, and Avery tore his eyes away from studying his face, hoping for surprise or at least approval, to meet his sister’s gaze. She’d gotten a bath and her hair curled down her back in loose waves over her nicest, newest dress.

She wanted to look nice for her husband. Good. That meant she liked him.

“Lisette,” he said. “You’re—” He stopped himself, then restarted, “You look nice.”

“So do you,” she said, eying him skeptically. “You put in effort.”

She still had one arm looped through her husband’s. It was easy to see that Solon was his brother, now that Avery had seen them both. They had the same dark hair fighting a wave, the same bright blue eyes, the same tall, slender build. Neither Solon nor Kavi was built to be a fighter like Lennox was, but neither was Avery. “Should I not want to make a good impression on your husband? I thought it would be good to at least try.”

The crown prince laughed and reached a hand out to shake Avery’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Avery ducked his head into a bow before shaking his hand. “Your Highness.”

“Kavi. My name is Kavi. And yours is Avery.”

“Kavi,” Avery agreed. “I’m glad to see my sister seems so eager to impress you.”

“Avery!” Lisette said, turning pink the same way he did.

“What? It means that you still like him as much as you did from the letters.”

Kavi laughed, a deep, warm sound that dragged another smile out of Avery. He was kind. He was friendly. And he kept turning toward Lisette like a magnet.

All good signs.

“Let’s eat,” Solon said, pulling the warming covers off the serving trays.

Kavi pulled a chair out for Lisette, then took the seat next to her. Avery took the seat next to Solon more gingerly than necessary and folded his hands in his lap, uncertain what pre-dinner rituals Alham observed.

Apparently, none, because Kavi started scooping noodles onto his plate as soon as Avery slid his chair closer to the table, and Solon stirred a pot of potatoes in some red-yellow glaze that was tangy enough to make Avery’s mouth water from across the table.

He took several thick pieces of bread, still warm, and buttered them, and slowly filled the rest of the plate with food. But he waited for Solon to take his first bite before he started eating.

Solon nudged Avery’s arm before he could get more than two bites into the lovely, warm duck and offered him a ladle filled with the sauced potatoes. “You should try these. They’re my favorite.”

“If you don’t like them, tell me and I’ll smack Solon for you,” Kavi said. “I asked for our chef to come up with something close to Ensheren’s food for you. I thought it would be good to acclimate you slowly. She even got a recipe book. But Solon cannot go a day without those damn potatoes.” Solon jerked under the table like he’d been kicked, and Kavi grinned at his brother.

“They taste good,” Solon said, sounding petulant and everything he hadn’t been the entire day while Avery collapsed on him. Lisette giggled into her bread and Avery couldn’t help a grin crawling onto his face.

“That does explain why you have peppered duck,” Lisette told her husband. “You remembered?”

Kavi turned to her with a smile that softened like butter over the bread Avery was busy shoveling into his mouth. “I would have double checked before asking our chef if I hadn’t.”

Avery’s chest warmed. Kavi and Lisette had been exchanging letters constantly for nearly two years already. They knew each other, even if they’d only met in person for the first time that day. He didn’t need to worry. Lisette knew what she was getting into far better than Avery did. She would be fine.

“You’re getting along well.”

Lisette pinked. “We’ve had a good day.”

“And I look forward to the next ones,” Kavi said, reaching over a tray of dumplings to touch her hand.

She smiled at him. “So do I.”

Avery fell quiet as he finished eating, eyes on his plate instead of his sister. She would be fine. Alham would be a good home. Kavi would be a good husband. Every single one of their brothers had insisted he accompany her, and even their mother had pulled Avery aside to give him her best guilt trip over his hesitance.

Maybe that would be for the best for Lisette. She didn’t need anyone to intervene.

He let Lisette and Kavi’s gentle flirting and Kavi teasing his brother wash over him without feeling the need to add anything. They were all content with each other, and he was content to know that.

Except that Kavi and Lisette and Solon all kept glancing at him, waiting for him to say something, and continuing with awkward pauses when he didn’t add anything. And by the time Avery had cleared his plate, Lisette had, clearly, gotten fed up with it. “Avery,” she said, “Kavi wants to know who my family is, too. And you’re the only one he’s getting the chance to before the wedding, and that isn’t for months. Will you please act like yourself?”

Avery startled in his chair. “What?”

“I miss the brother who used to sneak out of the castle with me and help me climb apple trees and bought me all the books our parents thought I shouldn’t be reading and taught me how to waltz after curfew.”

Avery blinked. “But Max did all of that.”

“Max did all of that with you. You’re the one that did all of that with me.”

Avery laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Max did not teach me how to waltz, Lisette.”

“He didn’t teach me either! Avery, I spent so much time telling Kavi about you. I want him to actually meet you. Stop being so quiet.”

“I was quiet at home, too,” Avery said, trying to bite back another laugh. “I’m tired. Give me a day or two.”

She leaned across the table to stare him down. “If you’re not acting like yourself in the week, I’m going to chase you around the courtyard with a stick.”

Avery’s helpless laughter was drowned out that time by Kavi’s, and Avery’s eyes darted to him again. He grinned at Avery—not worried about what Lisette had said, then—and stood up. “I think that’s a good reminder to all of us to get some sleep. Perhaps when you’ve gotten a chance to settle in here, Lisette won’t have to threaten you anymore.” He turned to his wife. “Let me escort you back to your rooms. They’re attached to mine if you need anything.” He winked. “Although with any luck, I’ll have wooed you into sharing my bed by our wedding.”

Solon made a disgusted sound from the back of his throat. “Kavi! Don’t be so crass. Her brother doesn’t want to hear that.”

Kavi stuck his tongue out at his brother. “That wasn’t crass, Solon. I was expressing interest. I kow explaining that to you is like trying to tell a fish about the desert, but it’s not inappropriate.”

Solon flushed red. “I’m not that bad.”

“And neither am I. Now I’m going to take my wife and settle in for the night. Good night, Solon.” He inclined his head to Avery. “It was good to meet you, Avery. I hope we’ll get some more time together once you’ve settled in here better.”

He escorted Lisette out the door, and Avery turned to Solon. “Thank you for your hospitality today. It…it’s been more than I could have expected.”

Solon raised an eyebrow as Avery straightened. “And why’s that?”

“Well I—I’m an uninvited guest. And yet—”

Solon gave him a smile, warm and bright, and it made Avery’s stomach flip over itself in a dangerous way. “I’ve been happy to help, don’t worry.”

“Right,” Avery said, which he was distantly aware wasn’t the right thing to say. He backed up towards the open door. “I’ll let you attend to your bed, then.”

He darted out the door before his face could turn red again and before he had to think about Solon and beds again.

~~~~~~~~

“Avery! I was wondering where you’d gone. You didn’t answer when I tried your door earlier.”

Avery straightened from where he was bent inspecting the palace garden’s flowers. “Solon! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be looking for me.”

Solon grinned. “If nothing else, I am expected to play host to royal visitors. And you’re the only one here that isn’t married to my brother.” He waved an arm back the way he came. “So let me do my job and show you around Alham’s capital.”

It wasn’t as if Avery had any reason to say no. And with the way Solon was smiling, he didn’t want to, either. So he smiled back, nodded, and let Solon lead him out of the palace and into the streets.

With no guards, at least none visible. Solon was dressed in the same unassuming clothing that had Avery mistake him for an attendant instead of a king, and no crown was in sight, but Avery still felt strange as they left the palace grounds, like someone had forgotten to give him a jacket in the winter. Like a weight was missing.

“Today we can go on foot,” Solon said. “We can’t reach everywhere in the city that way, but there’s plenty to see in walking distance.”

Avery nodded and stepped closer to him when a carriage passed by on the street, driving straight past the palace gates. Solon took the opportunity to  lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “To be honest, most of my favorite places aren’t close, but maybe Kavi had a point in acclimating you slowly.”

Avery laughed and Solon grinned back like he was surprised to hear it.

“Well, what fun are you taking us to today?”

“I was going to start with the high street shops. Not that I’m trying to drum up the local economy, although parliament would probably like me to. But it’s also where the most…polite…street performers gather and it’s a good place to see everyone from all parts of the city head to shop. Unless you’d rather do something else? I could do my best to keep you off kilter so your sister chases you around with a stick.”

Avery shoved at Solon’s shoulder without thinking about it, the same way he would have any of his brothers. Solon didn’t budge, and Avery drew his hand back like he’d burned it. “I—I’m sorry.”

Solon caught his wrist before Avery could withdraw completely. “Avery, the treaties between our countries are already signed and I’m not going to take Kavi’s wife away from him.” He’d pitched his voice low and soft like he was talking to a skittish cat, and Avery felt tension melt from his face and shoulders embarrassingly quickly. “You don’t have to worry about offending me. It won’t cause any harm if you do, and I won’t hold it against you, either. We’re both getting to know each other. Are you going to do anything against Alham because I didn’t know who you were when we met?”

Avery blinked. “But you didn’t do anything.”

“I thought you were one of Lisette’s attendants trying to get out of work.”

“So? I thought you were your brother’s.”

Solon laughed. “See? We’re even. We’ve both done things that could have offended each other, and neither of us are mad. Right?”

Avery glanced sideways at him for a moment. “All right. You have a point.”

“So you’ll stop trying to be so careful?”

Avery lifted one shoulder. “I think you’ll be disappointed in how I act when I’m relaxed. Lisette made me sound much more adventurous than I am.”

“That’s okay. We’re starting small today. We can work our way out into the city as far as you’re willing to push yourself. Or until you start kicking me.”

Avery ducked his head and then smiled. “Is that always how Kavi gets you to leave him alone?”

 Solon pressed a finger to Avery’s mouth. “Don’t go telling everyone his secrets.”

Avery’s breath caught until Solon dropped his hand away from Avery’s mouth again, and he pressed his lips together to imprint the feeling on them.

And so he didn’t say anything stupid.

~~~~~~~~

It was apparent by the time the week was out—and Lisette’s deadline had come—that Solon had every intention of taking Avery somewhere in the capital city every single day. At least until Lisette’s wedding, which was only five weeks away.

It was more attention than Avery was used to. More attention than he knew what to do with. But two weeks into his stay, he managed to hide away with Lisette for one of her dress fittings.

“Well, you’re having fun with Solon, aren’t you?” Lisette asked. “Right?”

Avery narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out if she was trying to imply anything. He and Solon had done nothing remotely scandalous. The fact that Solon’s smile and presence was enough to flip Avery’s heart over in his chest wasn’t the point. But his sister could tell. She always knew when he she saw him with someone he’d gotten a crush on.

“I’m enjoying myself here,” Avery agreed before immediately changing the subject away from Solon. “More importantly, are you? Because one of us is staying here after the wedding, and one of us is going home with our parents and brothers. Has Kavi been showing you around?”

Lisette huffed. “We’ve been busy.”

“Busy with each other, or busy with the wedding? Because—”

“Oh, just because I’m not in charge of all of the details doesn’t mean I’m not involved in my own wedding, Avery! It’s in a month and I only just got here and I don’t know anyone yet and—”

Avery clamped his mouth shut as his sister ran out of steam. She was stressed—of course she was; she was trying to build an entirely new life somewhere she’d never been, and Avery had decided she was fine and spent his days entirely occupied with Solon and his ginger cologne that—no, Avery did not need to find someone to bring back to Ensheren. “What can I do to help?”

“Avery—”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Our brothers were pretty clear about that. I want to help you if I can, Lisette. Please.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled while she did it. “So you’re only helping me because they asked you to? Not because you think I need help?”

“Your Highness,” the dressmaker said, kneeling at her waist, “I appreciate your spirit, but if you could have this conversation more sedately at least while I’m trying to pin things in place.”

Lisette went red up to her hairline. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had this done in a while.”

“You had this done two months ago to get that dress you wanted when you saw Kavi for the first time,” Avery said.

His sister scowled at him. “Will you hush?”

“You wanted me to be like this. Threatened me with a stick,” Avery said. “Now tell me what I can do to help you adjust here.”

Lisette’s shoulders slumped, but she caught herself before she did anything more to disturb the dressmaker’s work. “I don’t know, Avery. I just want some time alone with my husband again to get to know him and this country better.

A clap came from the door. “Done.”

Both Lisette and Avery jumped and turned to look at Solon leaning against the door frame. The dressmaker sighed and stood up to take a break and fetch something from his work kit.

“Solon!” Lisette said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for your brother. But if what you need is a day alone with my brother and this city, I can make that happen easily. The wedding details can manage a day without you. In fact, maybe even getting out of the city would be good. Our mother lives out of the city on a large estate near the woods. Would you like to visit her? It’s quiet and private there, but maybe meeting your husband’s mother wouldn’t help.”

Lisette blinked. “Your mother is still alive?”

Solon frowned. “I’m only thirty-one. My father’s death five years ago was very shocking, but it didn’t put my mother in any poorer health. She’s still quite young. She just wasn’t chosen as the next monarch.”

Thirty-one. When Solon had been Avery’s age, he’d taken up a crown. And Avery wasn’t even able to help his sister relax.

Lisette’s mouth opened into a soft circle. “Kavi gave me a brief explanation of how the lineage works here, but I didn’t realize your mother was still alive. Will she be coming to the wedding?”

“Of course. In the meantime, however, what would you like to do to squirrel away some alone time with my brother? I’m happy to do whatever I need to make it happen.”

Lisette hesitated, and the dressmaker attacked her waist with pins while she stood thoughtful and still.

“I think,” she said, “I would like to meet your mother before the wedding. Would she…what’s she’s like?”

“Cheerful, no nonsense, and very pleased Kavi found someone he likes so much,” Solon said. “I can’t promise she won’t have any questions for you, but I think she’ll be quite welcoming—and even if she gives you a proper interrogation, it’ll certainly be a distraction. I can pack you and Kavi off before nightfall and you’ll be there before morning.”

Avery nodded enthusiastically. “Just give me a list of things to handle while you’re gone, Lisette. I can at least do that much for you.”

“I…are you sure?” Lisette asked, pausing with a frown.

“Do you think I won’t do it properly?” Avery asked. “It’s for you, Lisette. I’ll do my best.”

Lisette laughed. “It has nothing to do with that at all, Avery. It just seems strange to let you handle things here while I go somewhere without you.”

Avery stood up, and sidestepped the dressmaker to take his sister’s hands. “That’s what this entire trip is meant to be. Go spend time with your husband. I’ve got this.”

~~~~~~~~

Avery did not have things. His sister left for a week see Kavi and Solon’s mother, leaving Avery with a list as long as his forearm to see to. And he only knew how to do one of them—checking the translation of the wedding program for the foreign guests. But he’d asked after that first. It wasn’t ready to be looked at yet.

And so he gave up his borrowed desk in his borrowed rooms and took the list to Solon’s room, hoping to plead help from him yet again.

Solon answered the door with a surprised smile and welcomed him inside immediately.

“Do you need something?”

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed that you wouldn’t need to host me this week while I took care of Lisette’s things, but I was hoping you could at least direct me to who I need to talk to. Lisette has been handling all of this alone.”

While Solon took him sight-seeing and showed off his favorite statues and museums and strange buildings, and they laughed at things for hours. But Solon knew that.

Solon waved that off. “It was starting to get boring without you around anyway.” He gestured to his desk. “I’ve actually had to get work done.”

Avery couldn’t help a smile at that. “As far as I can tell, Lisette is working on blending marriage traditions, but I don’t know if you have anyone besides the two of us who’s familiar with the traditions in Ensheren, or who I should speak to about implementing them.”

Solon snagged the list Lisette made out of Avery’s hands and spent a few quiet moments reading it. Avery let him and glanced around the room. It looked about the same as every other time he’d been in Solon’s rooms, except that his desk looked like it was being rapidly devoured by papers. And Solon looked the same, except that his hair had definitely had hands running through it, because the waves had gotten untamed and curled up at every angle.

Avery did his best not to stare as Solon read and then handed the list back to him. “None of this should be complicated. Either your sister was making things easy for you, or she managed to tie herself up in knots about it from stress. I know the wedding is only in three weeks, but,” Solon stretched his arms wide, “we’re royalty. This wedding is a national holiday, and a sign of goodwill when your family arrives. Everyone is going to do everything possible to make it happen properly on short notice. Honestly, I could give that list to my secretary and it would be done before your sister comes back tomorrow.”

“Lisette asked me to do it,” Avery said. “I’d like to see to it myself. I don’t doubt your secretary, but…”

Solon nodded once. “Of course. Jan is probably extremely busy as is. He’s had enough to take care of with both of you here. So.” He reached back to the list and tapped the first item. “We can take care of several of these things by talking to the priest. I haven’t had a chance to show you the temple yet, but we have a nondenominational one in the palace. The priest who will be officiating the service works there, and she can refer us to someone who can help with how you do your vows to ensure we do both.”

“We?” Avery asked.

“Avery, I’m very tired of paperwork today. Let me with you, please. Anything to get moving.”

Avery laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to the king.”

“You’ve said no to me three times in the last week,” Solon said, slinging an arm around Avery’s shoulders to steer him back out the door.

~~~~~~~~

Working out wedding details with Solon was much more nerve wracking that it had any right to be. It wasn’t his wedding. But seeing Solon smile at him in the largest chapel Avery had ever seen near the altar while Avery repeated the same steps his sister would make to arrive before the priest and demonstrate taking Solon’s hands as she would Kavi’s, and then teaching the priest how to tie their hands together with his sister’s sash was—

Well. Avery’s heart certainly got more of a workout than he would have if he’d gone sprinting for the same amount of time.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to dance with Solon to set up room for the family dances Ensheren enjoyed to celebrate the unions. He didn’t have to touch Solon while going over the most important menu items with their cook. And he didn’t even have to make eye contact while sorting out who would be kneeling, who would be standing, and when.

They broke from the palace again to hurry over to see the priest from Ensheren. Alham’s capital had a small immigrant population and traveling community—it would get larger now that Lisette was married to Kavi—enough, at least to have a small district devoted to them and their own cultural buildings.

“I can’t believe this place existed in your city and didn’t take me here first,” Avery said as they settled into a carriage to head across the city. “What was that about trying to give me time to adjust slowly?”

“It’s not adjusting if you just insulate yourselves with your people, is it?” Solon asked. “Besides, it takes forever to get there. Do you think they’ll recognize you?”

“Maybe. If they’ve been home recently.”

“Mmm. So you’ve been at more of your official events than you like to pretend.”

“Well, I attend them,” Avery said. “I don’t do much more than that.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

Avery kicked at Solon’s shin lightly and then turned red at the familiarity. Kavi did that. But Kavi was Solon’s brother. Avery just wanted the excuse to touch him.

“Hey!” Solon said, breaking into laughter. “What was that for?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. You’ll see when my family gets here. They’ll take over all the final details without me having to do anything.”

“And yet Lisette wants you next to her at the altar, not any of them.”

“Well, she only gets one,” Avery said, avoiding Solon’s eyes. “And I don’t have another role to perform.”

“I don’t think Max is her favorite brother,” Solon said. “That’s all.”

“She’s not even the one who asked me to come. The rest of our family sent me with her. They were very pushy about it.”

Solon sat up straighter in his seat. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.”

Avery shrugged. He didn’t like thinking about it. Lisette hadn’t picked him, and the rest of his family wanted him out of their way for weeks. It made sense, but it still stung. Avery had always done his best, if not to help, at least not cause problems for anyone.

He thought he was still succeeding. Solon liked him, at least. If he and Kavi hadn’t both made it so clear that Solon never thought about romance, he would have even called it flirting. But a friendship with a king was no small thing.

Except when his sister was married to the crown prince of the same country. Then, a friendship didn’t matter. And neither did Avery’s crush on him.

~~~~~~~~

The night before Avery and Lisette’s parents and brothers arrived for the wedding, Alham held a celebration. It would last into the next days, to greet their new allies. It would last at least a week, even with the wedding festivities shortly after.

But the night before they arrived, they heralded the start of the holidays with fireworks.

Solon took Avery out of the palace to watch. He settled them on a patch of grass in a park he’d taken Avery to the first week he’d been there, high on the far edge of the city, with a view of the entire sprawl of buildings beneath them. Plenty of people had joined them to watch the show in the sky over the harbor, setting out blankets and picnic baskets.

“What about Kavi and Lisette?” Avery asked as he settled into one of the same blankets he’d borrowed his first day in Alham to sleep on Solon’s couch. He was wearing the same gold shirt he been given then under his favorite red coat, too.

“Kavi is almost certainly going to take Lisette to the top towers in the palace to watch,” Solon said, unpacking the bag of snacks he’d brought with them. “It’s more private and closer to the fireworks. He likes it better. I think it’s more comfortable to watch fireworks up here.”

Avery hummed. He had to agree. Watching in the palace seemed fancy. Exclusive. But he was with everyone else in Alham who wanted to be there, with Solon at his side, and he could imagine Max wandering around making friends with everyone. Avery couldn’t manage that sociableness, but he liked the idea of it.

It felt like where Avery belonged.

Lisette would like the privacy, though. She’d never gotten much, as the only princess of Ensheren. Avery could blend in better among their brothers.

“Is Kavi nervous?” he asked. “Lisette is torn between nervous and excited. But like you said, everything’s already official. This is just the party to celebrate it.”

“You know, I actually don’t think he is,” Solon said, settling onto the blanket next to Avery and folding his legs so he could rest his arms on his knees. “But he’s never been the type for nerves.”

“Lucky him.”

Solon laughed much louder than Avery’s muttered aside deserved. “I know. I’ve always been jealous. He would have been better at being king than I was, but that wasn’t how the votes went.”

“They get to design your job to your strengths, don’t they?” Avery said. “Yours were what they wanted, not Kavi’s.”

Solon raised an eyebrow and gave Avery the same once over he had when they first met. Avery felt his cheeks go as pink as they did the first day, too, but the sky was almost dark enough that he could believe Solon didn’t see it this time. “And what are my strengths, Avery? Why would they pick me over Kavi?”

Avery went redder, and this time he knew Solon saw it because his grin widened. “You…you’re thoughtful. You know everything about this city, at least, and you can tell me anything about your country any time I have a question about anything. You know how to solve problems, more neatly than I ever would. You know exactly who to ask for help and how. Who wouldn’t want you to be in charge?”

Solon’s mouth fell open and for a brief moment, he was visibly speechless. Then he looked away, swallowed, and recovered enough to say, “Thank you. That’s quite the compliment.”

Before Avery had to think of something else to say to that, the first explosion overhead broke. He turned in unison with Solon and every other person in the park with them toward the sparks of light breaking up the dark sky over the harbor.

Avery had always liked fireworks. He’d though of them as pretty things as a kid, like the paintings on his wall, but when he’d asked how to make them, the chemistry of it had overwhelmed him until he’d given up understanding.

They were magic. Made by talented, clever people with a purpose. And the purpose was to make people happy.

Solon edged closer as the show went on and the air cooled. Avery tightened his jacket around him and leaned closer to Solon’s warm skin.

And he stayed there after the last firework went off and those around them started to pack up and leave, his eyes on the sky. Until Solon shifted close enough to jostle Avery’s shoulder and Avery turned with an apology in his throat for waiting too long after the fireworks were done to help pack things up and leave.

But Solon wasn’t trying to pack up their blankets. He was staring at Avery, his eyes unreadable in the dark, his mouth soft and open.

Avery’s eyes drifted to the shadows playing on Solon’s face from the few lamps in their park that had slowly started being relit now that the fireworks were over. Drifted down to his mouth and stared at it, listing forward the way he had the first day they met and he was unstable and ill and Solon was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Avery,” Solon said, his voice soft, and Avery jolted upright, shaking himself. He’d been about to kiss Solon. Solon, who wasn’t interested in any of that. Solon, who was absolutely not an option for any of a hundred other reasons—starting with the fact that their siblings were married and there was no point. If Solon was going to get married, it would have to be to someone useful.

Solon startled himself as Avery set into action and stood, and he slowly started packing their things up as if he’d just woken from a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Avery avoided Solon the next morning. And the next afternoon. And it was easy to do it at first, with the chaos of preparing for far more royal guests than Lisette or Avery themselves represented. Avery managed to keep well out of his way all the way up until it was time to have dinner with his parents and brothers, and Lisette, Kavi, and Solon, and Solon’s mother.

Solon caught him on the way to the proper dining hall—Solon’s room wouldn’t fit so many people for dinner—and stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Avery! I expected to see you around today. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around,” Avery said, looking away immediately. “It’s easy not to notice when there’s so many of us.”

“Except that I was looking for you, specifically, not a prince from Ensheren,” Solon said. “And you’ve not been around at all. Are you avoiding your family?”

“What? No, nothing like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“I just think too much has been happening,” Avery said. “There’ve been so many people to help adjust.”

There was a pained sound to their side, and Avery and Solon both turned to see Kavi with Lisette on his arm further down the hallway. Kavi dropped Lisette’s arm and stepped forward, grabbing Avery’s hand with his arm.

“Avery,” he said, “my brother is bad at this. He has no practice, because he’s never wanted to do this before. But he is trying to find out if you want to stay here in Alham. He’s spent the last six weeks trying to convince you to stay, hoping you’d fall in love with the country, so he could keep you around.”

Solon’s face turned redder with every word from his brother. But he didn’t argue or protest any of it.

“Will you—please, Avery, just put my brother out of his misery and tell him if you’re going to stay or not. Before dinner, please. I can’t imagine having to sit through an entire meal with the two of you so awkward around each other.”

Lisette tugged on her husband’s arm. “We should leave them be,” she said. “Avery, don’t come to dinner until you’re done talking to Solon about this. Please.”

“Lise—”

But she didn’t stop, and she and Kavi had turned the corner before Avery could even finish her name, leaving him alone again with Solon.

Avery turned back to Solon, unsure what to say after that. “Um.”

“I—uh.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence for a long moment before Solon finally broke it again. “So? Are you willing to stay? Here? Even after your parents leave?”

“You…you really want me to?”

Solon grabbed for Avery’s hands and took them in both of his. “Avery. I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I didn’t even know I could like someone the way I like you. But you’re not useless, and you’re not unwanted. You care. You want to know everything about everyone, and you want to do your best to help. Maybe—maybe starting over somewhere without the expectations and your siblings taking care of so much will make it easier for you to find something to do here. You’ve always wanted to date men, haven’t you? Spend your life with one? And your parents and siblings all pushed you to come here, where that’s….where you can do that. They like you, Avery—you’ve never once said you don’t get along with them. And they wanted you to come here, where they wouldn’t be hanging over your head and—and maybe you could marry someone if you wanted.”

Avery blinked, then looked down at their hands. “You really think that’s what they were trying to do?”

“So much so that I asked Lisette about it, and she turned pink the same way you do when you get caught. She asked if I was trying to keep you.”

Avery ducked his head against a growing smile. He could see Lisette asking that. Could see her hoping for that. “If you’ve wanted me to fall in love with Alham, you’ve succeeded. And if….if you wanted me to fall in love with you, then…well…it’s still early. But I think you’re succeeding there, too.”

Solon’s face brightened like the sun and his smile could have cracked his face in half. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents about it,” Avery said, worming his hands out of Solon’s to rest them on his shoulders. “But if you’re right, I think they’ll be happy for me to stay here. Especially if we have a treaty and they’ll have someone to take care of Lisette.”

“And Lisette can take care of you,” Solon said, tucking his hands around Avery’s waist.

“Mmm,” Avery agreed, a grin growing across his face. “Now if you want me to stay, Your Majesty, perhaps you should start proving it with a kiss?”

Solon’s hands tightened as he jolted in surprise, and he met Avery halfway.