#but there are a few more things I still need to write

[hyprfixate]

for the taking :: [B.C] x [H.J] x [K.S] x reader

read on AO3

summary: of your three boyfriends, you like to push chan's buttons the most so that he'll really get things going. you sadly underestimate how wild things can get when you rile him up.

pairing: kim seungmin x bang chan x han jisung x reader

tropes: poly!skz mmmf foursome, porn without plot

smut warnings: mentioned free use dynamics, dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, brat play, overstimulation x100000, pussy eating, implied mxm dynamics, dom jisung, soft dom/sadist seungmin, hard dom/brat tamer chan, mentions of safewords (it's not used), unprotected sex but it's a long established relationship, reader initiated slight cnc, dirty talk, reader is called a slut as a degradation thing. it's really just pure filthy, not a plot point in sight.

author's note: i didn't plan to write this at all. idk where it came from. enjoy anyway!!

word count: 8.7k

You're laying on your stomach in your bedroom. The lights are dim, music is thrumming from your speaker, and there's a candle on your wax warmer.  It's a quiet, soft night, the kind that you don't see many of. There's always something going on in the duplex you share with your partners. It can be tiring, but in the quiet, you realize you sort of miss it. You fiddle with the green beaded bracelet on your wrist as you scroll aimlessly through your phone.

Then, the door across the hall slams.

Only you and Chan are home tonight, Seungmin and Jisung off God-knows-where for whatever reason. Chan was supposed to go out with them, but he had a project to finish for his job, the same project that had him losing sleep for the last few weeks. You may never understand what exactly goes into producing music, but from the way he stayed hunched over his computer 24/7, you knew it was complicated.

You're not at all surprised when you hear your door creak open slowly. You turn over, eyes catching Chan's as he stands in your doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He's wearing a haberdash of house clothes, including a baseball cap, but you can still see the dark tint on his eyes.

You feign innocence.

“Hey you,” you smile at him. “Taking a break?”

“Something like that. What're you doing?”

You shift your phone to the hand with your bracelet, holding it up and giving it a little shake. His gaze hardens even more. “Just on Instagram.”

His eyes are trained on your wrist, just like you wanted. He recognizes the bracelet. Of course he does– he and the boys bought it for you after one of your many, many conversations. You give a little smile. "It's cute, right? The green matches my t-shirt," you say sweetly. 

It does, but that's not the only reason you're wearing it.

You're wearing it because they know that green means go. Or yes. 

Or take.

"Did you need something, Chan?"

He doesn't respond, choosing instead to push up off of the doorframe and make his way over to you. You decide to roll onto your back to see him better, and by the time you're situated, he's standing over you, arms still crossed.

You gulp.

"Um, hi," you breathe out. Nervousness was not part of the plan. "I– Did you... need something?"

He drops one of his hands and grips your ankle, and where the skin connects you feel like you've been electrocuted. Your body comes alive immediately. You can only watch as he barely strains a single muscle as he pulls you down to the edge of the bed.

"Put your phone down," he instructs. He reaches the soft part of your thigh and pinches, lips curling into a smirk when you yelp.

"Channie, I—"

"I said," he repeats, a little harsher this time, "put your phone down."

You do as you're told, dropping it on the floor next to his feet. He keeps pulling until your entire lower half is hanging off the bed. With your legs spread like they are, you're certain he can feel the pulsing coming from between your legs.

He hums.

"You know why I'm here," he says lowly. It's not a question.

Despite the speed of your heart, you blink up at him dumbly, fighting against the wave of arousal that licks down your spine when he raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you manage.

Both of his eyebrows are up now, his expression seemingly surprised for a second before it fades. He nods lightly, almost as though contemplating what you've said, and then he releases you and takes a step back.

Your heart drops for a second. You think you've messed up somehow, or maybe your tone didn't come out right. You're about to backtrack, but then he's back, hooking his fingers into either side of your waistband, and with one simple tug he has your pajama pants completely off. 

If Chan is surprised that you're not wearing any underwear, he doesn't show it.

You gasp when the cool air hits your lower body, and you watch as he smirks. He returns his vice like grip on your ankle when you start to squirm under his gaze. 

"I see you still like to pretend that you have some ounce of control in this relationship," he deadpans. He tugs you back down the bed when you try to wiggle away. You're embarrassed that his strength doesn't seem to be affected by his sleep deprivation. "Come on, baby. You know better than that."

You fight back the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face at his voice. "I don't know what you're talking about," you lie. "Why're you bothering me? Don't you have work to do?"

"I can't focus," he says smoothly. "I couldn't stop thinking about you while I was working. About how much easier work might be if I could fuck you to clear my head."

"That's too bad," you shrug, hoping he can't see how you're clenching around nothing. "I was busy."

He hums absentmindedly, letting the hand on your ankle travel higher. He runs his fingers up your calf, then your knee, until finally he hooks the inside of his wrist behind it, forcing your legs to part. You gasp and try to snap them closed, but he only has to shift a bit so that his other hand is on your opposite leg, holding you open for him.

"Why do you always act like you're not dying for me to touch you, hm?" he asks, but it's rhetorical.  He knows you don't have an answer. You never do. Even so, when you stay quiet, he huffs out a humorless laugh.

"Okay. I'm going to give you two options, because I'm feeling generous." He holds up one finger. "Option one, you admit you're just being a brat, I'll fuck it out of you, and then we can both go back to what we were doing. Or–"

You whine as he abruptly leans down with your legs still in his hands, effectively folding you in half. "Or, option two, you keep it up, and I can tell the boys to come home. Then we'll make this a lot longer than it needs to be."

Chan is dangerously close to your face now. The brim of his hat is touching your forehead. You're almost sure he can feel your heartbeat through the fabric of both of your shirts.

"So what do you want, princess?" he asks, voice dripping with honey. 

You shiver. His gaze is so intense you forget how to breathe. At your silence, he yanks you further into him, pressing himself right up against your uncovered cunt. Even through his basketball shorts you feel the unmistakable heat of his erection.

"I said, what do you want?"

Fuck.

You can't take it anymore. You feel like you're burning with need. "I'm sorry, Channie," you whine out. You can see the fire in his eyes, the way he's so worked up already, and it makes you weak. "I'll be good."

He gives you a sweet smile, leaning forward to press a kiss against your mouth. You sigh into it, letting your body go lax so he can take control. 

Despite your attempts, brattiness never lasts long with Chan. With Seungmin and Jisung, you love the challenge, love making them crack and beg a little, but Chan is entirely unrelenting. You know better than to get him too riled up, especially if you actually want anything to happen.

The kiss is a stark contrast to what you know is to come, and you know that it's on purpose. He always likes to give you the chance to back out, a way to change your mind. Bracelet or no bracelet, your comfort is still always his first priority. It's what makes you comfortable enough to tease him.

But when he pulls away from the kiss and you chase after his mouth, he only smiles.

"There's my good girl," he says. He releases your knees and presses a kiss against your cheek, and then the tip of your nose.

"Chan," you whine. Your body feels cold where his hands just were.

He only tilts his head when he looks at you. "Hm?" Then his gaze turns sinister. "Did you... need something, princess?"

Oh. 

Shit.

"Wait,” You're scrambling up from your position. “Wait, please, Chan, don't–"

He hums. "You were so mean to me," he says, trailing a single finger down your cheek. "I don't think you deserve anything from me."

You attempt to sit up, eyes widening, but he's keeping you pinned down on your bed. "But I said I'm sorry," you whine. "Channie, please, I'll be good--"

He tilts his head again, pretending to think, letting his hand fall down your face to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"No," he decides, and he straightens up, taking a step back. "I think I'm gonna go back to work."

Before you can grab him, he's slipped away, nearly halfway to your door. "Sorry, babygirl. Maybe next time, yeah?"

The smirk on his face is proof he's anything but sorry. He gives you a fake little pout before winking and stepping out of your room, clicking the door closed behind him.

You're sat up on the bed, staring at the door with your jaw slacked. This is a new level of evil, you think. You hear his bedroom door open and shut, then the muffled sound of the track he's working on vibrates the walls.

It takes longer than you'd like for your wits to come back to you, but when they do, you're both utterly gobsmacked and thoroughly impressed.

He's teasing you.

There's a part of you that's tempted to just give in, to make your way across the hall and apologize. Chan is stubborn, but not unreachable. You know if you march into his room, you could get on your knees and make him relent in seconds.

But fine. He wants to play dirty?

You can play dirty, too.

-

It's less than an hour later when you hear the front door open and shut, the sound of Jisung and Seungmin's voices carrying up the stairs. You hear takeout bags and the jingling of their keys, and then–

“We're home!”

You make no effort to move, waiting to see if Chan will leave his room first. Besides, you're still working through some of the details of your plan.

If you stay in your room, Seungmin would come upstairs to check on you first. You know he'll fuck you good, but it takes time to warm him up. By the time you start getting anywhere, Jisung will get to Chan, who might do something stupid like tell him that you were being a brat, and then he'll come in and ruin the whole thing.

No, you need eager. You need impulsive.

You need Jisung.

You pad to the bedroom door, opening it and sticking your head out. Chan's door is still closed, the track he's working on still pumping through the speakers, so you take the opportunity to get the ball rolling.

You make your way down the hall and to the top of the stairs, where you can see Jisung standing in the entryway of the kitchen. The two have already shed their jackets and shoes, and Seungmin is now busy unloading the food they brought back into the fridge. His back is turned to you.

Bingo.

"Hey," you say softly. Jisung's head whips up, eyes brightening as he spots you. He says something you can't hear to Seungmin before he's jogging up the stairs towards you. He scoops you into a squeezing hug.

"Hi my baby," he says happily, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "How was your day?"

You giggle in the hug. "It was alright. Kind of boring. How was yours?"

"We had fun," he says. He sets you down and leans against the wall next to you, reaching and catching your hand in his. You deliberately give him the hand with the bracelet, but he doesn't see it. "I missed you though."

"I missed you, too."

Jisung grins. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then he furrows his eyebrows when he looks at you, like he's just noticing something.

"Is that my shirt?"

“Is it?” You look down, feigning surprise. "Oh, yeah I guess it is."

He hums, tilting his head. His eyes trail to your hand, and he finally seems to notice the bracelet on your wrist. "That's weird. I could've sworn I saw it in my drawer this morning."

You shrug. "Maybe you're just losing your mind."

He grins, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against your open palm. "Yeah, maybe. Or are you trying to tell me something?"

You bat your eyelashes up at him. "Am I?"

His smile turns sly. "You are, aren't you?"

Jisung doesn't wait for a response, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you down the hallway back into your room. He kicks the door shut behind him and spins to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

You squeal when he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and laughing against his mouth. His kisses are hot and eager– there's no break for breath as he moves across the room with you. You don't even pause when he lays you down on your bed, hand sliding “his” t-shirt up your body.

You shiver when he brushes against your thigh. His hands are cold from outside, and the contrast against your warm skin feels like electricity. He smiles in the kiss and squeezes the skin tight.

Your own hands find their way around his neck, pulling him even closer into you. Through the thin fabric of the shirt you're wearing, you can feel the hardness of his body all pressed against yours. He shifts against you and the friction makes your nipples harden right under him.

His hands leave your thighs. They wind their way up your torso, feeling you up all along the way until he finds the stiff peaks that called his attention. He runs his thumbs over them, drinking up every sound you make. One of your hands cards into his hair and you tug.

He groans at that, finally pulling away from the kiss with a grunt and instead trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth graze your pulse point and you buck up into him in surprise.

You feel him laugh against you.

"You're so cute," he says into your neck. He mouths over the skin before biting down, hot wet tongue immediately after. A bruise, then.

"Sungie," you gasp out. Your back arches off the mattress as his hands wander all over you. You've always loved how naturally his mouth works its way around your body– he knows just where to kiss, what spots to brush his nose over. Like he's learned the entire road map to your pleasure.

Maybe he has.

He mouths down your body, pausing and sucking on your breasts before leaving wet, soft kisses down the expanse of your tummy. When he gets to your core, he shifts his kiss-trail over to your inner thigh.

"Do you know how hot you are?" He murmurs. "Like all the time. Holy fuck. This is my shirt, princess. My shirt. Don't you know that drives me crazy?"

You do. It's precisely why you grabbed it.

His tongue meets your skin in an agonizing, slow stripe along your inner thigh. The higher he gets, the more your legs tremble around him, until finally his lips close around your clit.

The feeling is overwhelming. Your head lolls back against the bed and you let out a breathy moan. He hums against you, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds your legs up. Your hands are shaking, but one winds its way back into his soft hair, and you tug.

He moans at that, a sound that sends vibration up through your whole core. He takes a hand away and brings it down, letting his thumb just press lightly against your entrance. Even in the slightest sense of pressure, you arch further into him, wanting more, more, more.

He sucks on your clit even harder, his tongue joining, and when you look down and see his blissed out expression between your legs, you think your heart might jump right out of your chest.

In all the times the boys have taken you apart, they've never made you come this quickly. You're not sure if it's because of the moment with Chan earlier, or because you've been thinking about having one of them fuck you all day. All it takes is two large fingers, pushing and stretching inside of you while his mouth moves so perfectly around your throbbing clit for you to snap. You come with a sob, your thighs pressing against his head.

If there's one thing Jisung certainly loves, though, it's eating you out. He could spend hours between your legs, kissing and sucking and licking until you're boneless and spent. So there is no sign of slowing in his rhythm, even when you wriggle from overstimulation.

"Sung," you moan. He responds by pinching your thigh, sucking hard on your clit so your yelp turns into a moan.

Distantly, you register the sound of footsteps that pause right outside of your door. You hear knocking, but not on your door, and you realize Seungmin has finally come upstairs, likely to grab everybody for some quality time after a day apart.

You almost laugh at how well this is working out for you.

Jisung slides his fingers back into you, and your attention is split between straining to hear what's going on in the hallway and the blinding pleasure you're feeling. He curls his fingers up and you find yourself gushing on his hand, your own fingers tangled in his hair so tight he can barely move.

"God, you're so fucking wet," he murmurs against you. He almost sounds giddy. "Did you miss me, baby?"

You can't even form a response, only able to whine as he fucks into you with his fingers, tongue flicking over your clit just fast enough to make you tremble. Your orgasm is coming on strong, and you feel like you're floating above your body, every touch electric, every movement monumental.

And then–

"Ah, so that's where they are."

Your eyes snap to your now-open door. Your other two boyfriends are there, and you make direct eye contact with Chan just as your second orgasm reaches its peak. You arch up off the bed, gasping into the air as your body trembles, and Jisung keeps his mouth on you, sucking hard and making your vision go white.

After a minute, he finally slows his pace, pulling away and finger-fucking you slowly and deep. He would never stop completely, especially not now that everyone's in the same room. His voyeurism is likely cranked up to 10, and you know he'll be pouty and whiney for the rest of the week unless he gets to watch one of the other boys split you open on their cock.

From the way he's looking at you, you feel like it'll be Chan doing the splitting.

Seungmin, ever the sane one, pretends to roll his eyes. "So this is why neither of you were answering my texts about movie night? This couldn't wait?"

"Well, she was wearing my shirt and nothing under it," Jisung says, grinning up at him. He gives your clit one last suck before kissing it and propping himself up, fingers still buried to the hilt inside of you. Your brain feels foggy as you stare at the three of them. You can still feel yourself gushing on his fingers.

Seungmin notices, eyes glued to your cunt as he walks over. You see his faux annoyance dissolving. "Fuck, she's really wet, isn't she."

Jisung grins. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh. "Yeah, I think she missed us."

Chan scoffs. He finally makes his way into the room fully, and you can see where his cock is straining against the fabric of his shorts. "No. She missed getting fucked." 

He stands at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Jisung's hand as he continues to move inside of you. "Did you tell Jisung what happened earlier, baby?"

Jisung huffs out a little laugh, half lidded eyes going back to your face. "Hmm. No. She didn't."

A chill runs down the length of your spine. Fuck. It sounds like Chan got to them first.

"Chan said you were being a real big brat earlier," Seungmin hums. He pulls his eyes away from your center and finally looks at you. "Is that true, angel? Were you being bad for Chan?"

You shake your head, eyes going doe-ish as he gets closer to you. You realize you need to change your plan and do it quickly. It takes less than half a second for a new idea to come: Seungmin is the softest of the three of them, at least in sexual situations. If you can get him on your side you might have a chance.

That thought flies out of the window when his hand makes its way around your throat, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. 

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart." His voice is deceptively soft. "Don't you think Chan already spoke to us?"

You fight back a gasp at the sheer betrayal, but decide to double down anyway. "Wasn't being bad," you manage. You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. "I didn't do anything!"

Seungmin squeezes again, harder, and you really do gasp this time. "Then why did we both get a text from Chan earlier saying you were being mean to him? Hmm?"

"He said he came to blow off some steam and someone," Jisung presses his fingers directly against that squishy part inside of you, "Was being all bratty. Telling him to leave her alone."

It's at this moment that you realize all your planning was futile. You've fallen right into their trap.

You try the Seungmin strategy again, panting as you look up at him. "Minnie, please," you whine. You can't think with Jisung hitting your spot like that. "I wasn't– I–"

He tilts his head. "Oh come on baby. I think you're just lying to us now."

Your chest heaves. Jisung has chosen now to dive back into your cunt, tongue swiping up your slit and circling around your clit. Your brain is too scrambled to think of any other ways out of this situation, so you resort to what you always do: 

Pleading.

"'m sorry, Minnie," you rasp. "Didn't mean to– Didn't mean to be bratty."

Seungmin softens only slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" You're gasping around your words. "I promise. I just wanted to make him mad, wasn't trying to be mean."

In all of your begging and the relentless fervor of Jisung's tongue, you barely notice Chan making his way to the other side of your bed. Seungmin's grip loosens around your throat, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he takes in your words.

"Hm. What do you think, Chan?"

You turn to look at him. He's shed his shirt somewhere along the way, and the hard musculature of his stomach is glistening with sweat. He climbs onto the bed and situates himself so that he's behind you with your head in his lap. You're expecting his hand to replace Seungmin's around your throat, but instead he reaches over you, gripping the hem of your shirt and sliding it up over your chest until your breasts are on full display. Seungmin immediately sinks down to his knees and takes your nipple into his mouth.

You're a gasping, whining mess, eyes rolling back until all you can see is white. You feel Jisung sling his arm around you to keep your body still.

Above you, Chan lets the shirt go and switches his focus to your hands, pulling them up and holding your wrists together in one hand to keep them above your head.

"I think," he murmurs, using his free hand to caress your face, "That if she wants to cum so bad, we should let her."

Your heart drops. To the untrained ear, it sounds like you've won, but you know better. You know Chan, and you know he has something up his sleeve. But when you look up at him, he's looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile.

"If she's sorry," he continues, "She'll behave. Right, babygirl?"

You can't speak. The dual sensations are sending you to the moon. The hand caressing your face grips your jaw tight, keeping your gaze locked on him.

"I asked you a question, princess."

As soon as you open your mouth to answer, your orgasm crashes into you without warning. It's the third one in a row, and you feel much like a washcloth that's been wrung out. Your movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and even as you continue trying to respond to Chan, your voice is not coming out.

"Jisung." He says simply.

The boy in question pulls away from your cunt with a satisfying pop. He's absolutely pussy drunk, eyes half lidded and tongue rolling over his lips to savor the flavor of you. If it were just the two of you, he'd keep going, but amongst the hierarchy of dominance, Chan has been, and will always be, at the top.

"I think she's ready now, yeah?" Chan rubs his thumb against your skin. "Fuck her good for me."

When orchestrating your own plan, you looked at Jisung’s eagerness as something to work in your favor. You hoped he would get you riled up enough for you to scream his name a couple times and really make Chan mad. But now, as he shimmies out of his sweats and boxers, taking his thick length in his hand, you feel nervousness tickle your gut.

Seungmin has pulled away from your nipple, reaching down to hold one of your thighs up. He's murmuring sweet nothings to you as he holds you open for Jisung. The latter is poised at your entrance, stroking himself and watching you with hungry eyes. 

You tip your head back to look at Chan again, and he only smiles down at you.

"Channie," you whimper out. You can barely speak, you're so overwhelmed. "Please–"

"Shh," he coos. "I know, baby. But this is what you wanted, yeah?" His hand moves from your jaw to your mouth, pressing a finger against your lips. You suck it in without thought, letting your tongue swirl around him with your cheeks hollowed out like you would on his cock. "I just want to see you take Sungie's dick. Be good, baby."

You almost choke when Jisung thrusts into you. You're already so wet and so sensitive, and his cock is stretching you so wide, pushing deep inside until you're sure you can feel him in your stomach. He gives you no time to adjust, that eagerness coming full force as he fucks right into you.

"God, she's still so tight," he breathes. One hand finds purchase in the dip of your waist, the other moves to the thigh not being held by Seungmin, folding you up and spreading you open to give him more leverage as he fucks into you hard.

Seungmin hums, trailing kisses along your leg and the side of your neck. "Feel good, angel? You like having Jisung's cock inside you?"

You can't even respond, mind blank as Jisung plows you deep. Your back is arched off of Chan's lap, head pushed back as his finger keeps your mouth propped open. You're a dumb, drooling mess around him, and despite the soft smile on his lips, you know it's wrecking him. 

To prove your point, he digs his nails in one of your palms, a stark contrast to the way Seungmin's hand is gently rubbing up and down your body, playing with your nipples and caressing your sides and stomach.

It's all too much, the sensations are overwhelming, and you're so wound up from earlier that you already feel the orgasm building. You mewl pathetically, eyes watering as you look around for someone to have pity on you.

It's Chan who catches your pleading gaze, but he only raises an eyebrow.

"You're gonna cum again? Already?" he says. It's not condescending or snarky, rather genuine disbelief and curiosity. His finger leaves your mouth and you let out a dry sob as trails of spit drip down your chin.

Jisung doesn't hear this– or can't, rather. He's fucking into you like he'll die if he stops, breathy moans leaving his mouth as he does. He's babbling nonsense, things like how tight you are and how well you take him in. You know he's close too, because his hips have gone erratic in their rhythm. Yet somehow, he gets faster.

The knot in your stomach feels heavy as lead. This orgasm might genuinely take you out. 

"Please," you rasp. "Please, please, I can't–"

Chan shakes his head, smiling. "Oh, but baby, I thought you wanted to cum?" 

"I do," you whine. "Want to so bad but 's too much. Too much, Channie, please–"

"No. Shut up and cum, princess," the grit in his voice is back. "Cum on Jisung's cock. Be good for us."

That's all it takes for you to snap. You let out a broken cry as another orgasm rocks through your body. It's even more intense than the others, pulling all of your muscles taut so you sit up before slumping back into Chan's arms. You barely register the way your hands flex uselessly above your head, writhing in Chan's grip. You can only vaguely feel Seungmin kissing your cheek, whispering little encouragements in your ear, telling you how good you are and how pretty you look when you cum.

And then Jisung is grunting, snapping his hips against yours one last time before spilling into you. Your walls spasm around him as he cums, milking him dry and causing you both to whine into the air.

In typical Jisung fashion, he's still rutting up into you after you're both well past overstimulation. The pressure in your cunt throbs throughout your body, tears springing into your eyes. You're very close to abandoning the little bit of pride you have and begging him to stop.

It turns out you don't need to, because as if on cue, Jisung finally pulls out and Seungmin lets go of your legs, standing up. You nearly sob at the loss of his gentle contact, so you don't even notice he's taking off his clothes until he's standing where Jisung was, hands gripping the soft skin of your thighs to hold you open. 

"Aw, baby," he says softly. He runs a hand up your leg. "You did so well."

You pout, a sob bubbling in your throat when you realize their plan now. They're gonna drag as many orgasms out of you as they can, overstimulation be damned. The thought makes your clit throb, and that alone makes you whine. It's all too much.

Despite knowing you're already so wet and lax and malleable, Seungmin reaches down to rub at your clit in an attempt to open you up. 

"Min," you cry, squirming at his touch. Your cunt feels tender, and even though the first set of tears are long dried up on your cheeks, fresh ones start to come. "Minnie–"

"Shhh. It's okay, angel."

His words are gentle and reassuring, but when his eyes catch yours, all you see is darkness.

Seungmin's gentle dominance has a limit. He doesn't get all stern and mean like Chan, or desperate like Jisung, but there's only so long he can last before that other, darker part of him surfaces, the one that gets off on hurting you, on seeing you in pain and feeling good from it. You can tell by the look in his eyes that this is the part of him you'll be dealing with.

When he finally sinks his cock inside you, it's slow, and the moan that he lets out vibrates through his length and right into you. Your neck seems to give up, dropping you right back down in Chan's lap less than gracefully. It gives him better access to you, and he leans immediately to attach his mouth to yours. He alternates between soft kisses and hard bites that will surely bruise in the morning.

Seungmin is only a bit longer than Jisung, but he's so damn girthy. Every tiny thrust he rocks into you sends shivers down your spine. Your skin feels like it's on fire and you're not even kissing Chan back, basically panting into his open mouth.

"Prop her up, Chan," Seungmin grits out. "Wanna watch her while she cries."

He gives you one final peck, and then the hand that's still holding your wrists lets go. It takes a second, then both hands are under you, lifting you up off the mattress until you're sat up on his lap with his chest against your back. He crosses your wrists against your chest and holds them in one hand, and then the other snakes up and finds your throat. His hand is way bigger than Seungmin's, and he's not as gentle when he squeezes and forces you to look back at him.

He doesn't look mad, or even turned on. He's smiling at you, like you're a particularly good puppy. "Good girl. Gonna give us a big one, yeah?”

You barely have a moment to understand what he's implying before you feel a hand on your clit. Both of Seungmin's hands are occupied, so you're not sure why it surprises you to see that it's Jisung's deft fingers on you. He's standing behind Seungmin, one hand on him and the other on you.

It feels like your eyes are bulging out of your head. The touch is gentle, but it still feels like you're being hit with lightning bolts. You're too spent to even buck up at the contact.

"Oh my God," you choke. "Oh, oh, I–"

“That's it,” Chan purrs when you cum again. He kisses whatever skin is closest to his mouth, his fingers gripping your jaw. Your head feels light, the only thing keeping you grounded to the bed are their hands on you. You feel like you're going to faint, and Seungmin's eyes are only egging you on.

Your body trembles so violently, Seungmin is forced to pause in his motions to hold your knees and keep your legs from buckling in. Your vision is blurry, but you can see Jisung has a steady grip on Seungmin's hair, effectively holding him in place.

"Good girl," he breathes, those big brown eyes trained on your face. "You take him so well."

His words send shivers down your spine. Jisung is always more coherent and in control after an orgasm. You know if Seungmin was today's focus, Jisung would likely be spitting all kinds of nasty, filthy words in his ear, but his gaze is fixed on you. All it takes to get you going is a good stare.

He taps at your clit with his free hand. You jump, moaning loudly at the contact, your back arching off Chan's chest and into Seungmin's body.

"She's good. Keep going," Jisung murmurs, pulling his eyes away from yours to look at Seungmin. He pulls a little at the hair on the nape of his neck, causing Seungmin's cock to jump inside you.

They work in tandem. Jisung's hand keeps circling your clit in the same soft rhythm, and you're not sure how but it's making you even wetter and more loose. You're a mess of moans, not knowing whose name to scream when they all have their hands on you. It's dizzying in the best way. 

Seungmin has started rolling his hips into you with more vigor, the soft sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. The dark shroud over his eyes is back as he stares down at you. "Feels good doesn't it," he grunts. "Look at your little cunt fluttering open for me like a good slut."

You feel another sob bubble out of you, this one accompanied by tears, but it dies in your throat when Chan's grip on you gets even tighter. All you can do is pout and whine.

"Aw, look at the little crybaby." Seungmin starts to fuck into you in earnest, his own moans getting higher in pitch. You can tell by the way Jisung's grip in his hair tightens that he's close. "C'mon angel. You're being so good, you can take it."

"Minnie," you rasp, barely able to speak. "Please–"

"I said take it." He’s looking down, watching where your cunt is sucking him in with each thrust. He thrusts into you particularly hard, and your entire body lurches forward, causing you to gasp. "And if you can't, you know what to say. You know your word."

You do. Somehow, under all the begging and pleading, you're actually insanely giddy with want. It's all part of the little game you play, so you just pout pathetically at Seungmin as his hips snap harder into yours.

"She's not gonna say it," Chan sing-songs. He uses the hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, giving him perfect access to more of you. He nips at your skin. "She likes being treated like this. Like a little toy."

It's all too much. Every inch of you is on fire, the room feels like it's a thousand degrees. Chan's mouth on your neck, Seungmin's cock deep in your cunt, and Jisung's fingers–

It's like something snaps.

A knot you didn't even realize was in your stomach explodes and your vision goes white. It's an orgasm unlike anything you've experienced before. Your brain completely melts, your hearing dulls, and you can feel the drool running down your chin. You feel like you're floating and drowning all at the same time. 

"Oh shit," you hear Seungmin groan. Your cunt is spasming around him. His thrusts become harder, sloppy. "God, fuck–"

He cums hard inside of you, hips jerking as he chases the aftershocks. You've gone completely limp, barely able to move at all as Chan continues to bite at your neck.

The hand on Seungmin's shoulder drops. "That's so hot," Jisung mutters, almost to himself. He's lost some of his in-control voice. "Wow, baby, you should be bratty more often.”

If you could see straight, you'd probably laugh at that.

Seungmin pulls out slowly, and when the head of his cock leaves you, you let out a tiny mewl. You're overstimulated to the point that you're numb. Seungmin smiles softly as he rubs the inside of your thigh.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know. It's a lot. But you're being so good for us.  I think it's Chan's turn though, hm? Wanna make him feel good?"

"Give her a minute," Jisung chides. You hear a sharp intake of breath and you know he's likely yanked on Seungmin's hair again. "She's about to pass out."

You can feel your limbs slowly returning to you, the fog clearing in your head. When Chan moves the hand from your throat, you breathe deeply, taking in gulps of air as moves his hand down to rub against your tummy. Jisung and Seungmin are bickering somewhere around you, and you let yourself relax in Chan's hold.

"Do you want to finish now, princess?" His lips are warm against your ear. "We can be done. You don't have to take me.”

It's a very tempting offer, especially with the way you can hardly remember what day it is. You could easily take it and call this all done. The four of you have almost certainly been at this for more than an hour now, and they've wrung six orgasms out of you. They're sweet enough to offer to call it a night.

But then you think about Chan, and how, despite being the reason this all started, he's barely done anything. Hasn't tasted you, hasn't shoved his cock down your throat– He's usually not one for letting go until you've milked him dry at least twice, and you can't stand the idea of him having that buzz under his skin all night. 

So you shake your head.

"No?" Chan laughs, almost like he's surprised. "Really? You still want to finish with me? Are you sure, princess?”

He's giving you the same offer he gave you earlier. An out. Making your comfort the first priority. The thought alone is what gives you the strength to nod against him.

"'m sure, Channie."

"Oh, fuck, okay." His grip around you goes a little slack as he moves, pulling you away from his lap and  laying you back into your bed. He leans over you and presses a gentle kiss against your mouth. It feels like he's thanking you, almost.

When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You want to look into them for hours.

He barks something at Jisung and Seungmin, and the bickering stops immediately. You hear shuffling around you before Seungmin takes Chan's empty space and Jisung appears at your side. They're pressing soft kisses to your face and praising you as Chan works his shorts and boxers down. When his cock springs free, he lets out a hiss of relief.

The sight of him alone makes anxiety rear its ugly head. You start to wonder if maybe you should've taken the opportunity to tap out, or if maybe you should use your safeword, but then Jisung is grabbing your hand and pressing kisses against it, squeezing you and keeping you tethered to the present.

"You can do it, pretty girl," he murmurs in your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. "You did so good for us, just a little longer."

Chan catches your eyes, and he smiles again, reassuring. His hand runs down your body and grabs one of your legs, lifting it and hooking your calf over his shoulder. "Gonna go easy, baby. I know it's a lot."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies, and your hands are shaking a little bit when he ruts himself up against you. You're so open from the others that when his head catches on your entrance, it nearly slips inside.  

Your back arches as you moan, and then his cock brushes against your entrance with purpose and it feels like you're going to split right open. He rocks into you again, pushing in the barest inch and pulling right back out. You whine and shift your hips in an attempt to escape.

"Come on, be a good girl now, princess." His voice has gotten lower, lust taking over. "Relax.”

His eyes flit up from where you're connected to look at you, and in one move he pushes right inside of you.

It doesn't hurt– you're way too wet and open for that. It does feel like your stomach is being forced open, however. Like his cock is pressing against all of your internal organs. You arch up off of Seungmin's lap and he pulls you back to him quickly.

Chan groans, bottoming out inside you. His eyes are closed as he lets himself bask in the sensation, hips rocking shallowly. You're thankful that he doesn't move immediately, but even the barest amount of movement feels like too much, like you'll come apart at any second.

You barely feel it when Jisung slips your hand into his. It takes you a minute to realize it's because your brain has been reduced to nothing. Your body has melted into the bed, your muscles are lax, and there's an emptiness in your brain filled with nothing but static and Chan's name. You don't think about anything at all, can't form a single coherent thought. You don't feel the kisses on your throat or the way Seungmin's hands have taken residence on your stomach. The only thing you feel is the overwhelming pressure in your cunt as Chan slowly pulls out, leaving just the tip, before pushing all the way back in.

He builds a rhythm quickly. Seungmin is holding you tight to his body, as though he's scared you might float away, and you appreciate it because it gives you another sensation to focus on. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, eyes rolled back into your head so far all you see is white.

The sound of Chan fucking into you is absolutely obscene, a mixture of your juices and the remnants of the cum still leaking from your hole. He fucks you slow, but hard, snapping his hips into yours so hard it almost feels like you might get a bruise on your thigh.

Jisung is watching with hungry eyes from your side. He's not touching you at all anymore, too engrossed in the scene unfolding to do much else other than stare with his jaw slacked. Seungmin takes over for him.

"That's it," he breathes. "That's it angel, look at you." He moves the hand on your stomach and lets his thumb rub circles on your clit. You feel like you're going to pass out. You don't get time to beg him to stop before you feel that same hand move to your mouth, and two fingers push past your lips.

"Here, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes fixed on your lips as you suck his fingers. "That's you on my fingers, baby. Isn't it good?"

You moan around his hand, head spinning both at the taste of yourself and the intrusion of Seungmin's fingers in your mouth. He's not fucking them into you with any kind of rhythm, just shoving them in there until you're dribbling around his hand. He hums happily when he pushes in more and makes you gag, kissing away the tears the spill over.

Chan grunts, head falling back. "Min, again, please, she just– fuck, she–"

Seungmin doesn't need to be told twice. He repeats the motion again, making sure his fingers go far enough so you're choking around him. This time, when you splutter and gag, you can feel it when you clench down on Chan and his cock pulses in response.

"Oh my God," he moans, thrusting into you again. "Oh my god, baby, you're so good. You're doing so fucking good–"

Between the movement of his hips and the feeling of Seungmin's fingers down your throat, you're not quite sure you're still on this plane of existence. Everything is spinning around you, your cunt is throbbing, you can hear Jisung moaning somewhere, but you don't know from what.

You can feel Seungmin's lips pressed against your forehead as his fingers fuck your mouth, your eyes rolling back into your head again. You're so lightheaded, so far gone, you can barely remember your name. 

It's when Chan starts to thrust faster that you come back to your body with a jolt, mind filling with white hot heat. The pleasure has long since lost it's edge, and you're a moaning, writhing, teary mess again. The coil in your stomach starts to build for the seventh time, and you're pretty sure your brain has gone empty. The only thing you're able to focus on is Chan. Chan, Chan, Chan.

"Almost done, angel." You register a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, and then another on your forehead. You think the voice belongs to Seungmin. Maybe, if the way he eases his hand out of your mouth is any indication.

Nothing is making sense anymore. It all feels like you're having an out-of-body experience.

Chan's hips falter, and his hand slides up to your throat again, but he doesn't squeeze. Just rests it there as his orgasm approaches, hips snapping against you at an erratic rhythm.

"Sweetheart." His eyes flutter open with strained effort, but they remain locked on yours. "Can you give us one more, princess? Hm? Can I get you to cum on me too, please?"

There's a desperation in his voice that makes your body feel hot. You want to tell him yes, that you're close, so so close, but all that comes out is a weak noise that you're not even certain you made. 

Seungmin seems to get it though, because he slips his fingers down between your legs, finding your clit again. He rolls it between his fingers with one hand while his other reaches up and settles on your jaw. You feel Jisung's tongue flick over your nipple and your world draws to a pinpoint.

Chan curses above you, fucking into you at an almost punishing pace. "Yes, baby, let go for us. That's it. We got you."

It feels like someone's stuck a vacuum in your brain with the incoherent way you're thinking. The sound of his voice saying your name in that desperate tone is all it takes, and suddenly you're floating out of your body, ears ringing as the pressure inside you bursts. Your eyes roll back and the clinging remnants of an orgasm wash through your body. It feels more like an aftershock. You're only vaguely aware of the way Chan moans, loud and throaty, when he finally spills into you.

It takes a couple minutes before the two of you come back down to earth. You can't move, and even though you know Seungmin is holding you tight, it feels like you might drift right off the mattress and float up into the clouds.

Chan pulls out slowly, and you shudder when you feel a trickle of his cum leaking from your hole. It's not long before your eyes droop shut from pure exhaustion. You think you might pass out right on the spot.

The room gets kicked into gear pretty quickly after that. From what you can tell in the hazy state you're in, someone grabs a wet cloth to wipe you down with while someone else finds you a new t-shirt (and panties this time). They dress you like you're a doll, maneuvering your limbs and telling you you're good, you're so good, they love you so much.

Then you're scooped up into a pair of arms while the distant sounds of sheets being pulled off the bed floats up to you. They take you out of the room.

"You did so good for us, baby." The owner of the arms whispers against your ear. From the cadence in their tone you're pretty sure it's Jisung. "You were such a good girl for us, sweetheart. We're so proud of you."

You think you nod against him, but you can't be sure. You hear him kick a door open, and then he sets you down on a bed and you register Seungmin and Chan coming in.

"Okay," Jisung murmurs, going through his aftercare list out loud. "Fresh bed, fresh clothes, we got her some water."

You feel the bed dip behind you. "We got it, but she's gotta drink it, though," Chan chimes. There's fondness in his voice as he scoots closer to you. "Come here, baby."

You let yourself go limp, and a content smile plasters on your face as your boys fuss over you and make sure you're comfortable. They're so gentle, despite what just transpired, and they all take turns pressing kisses against your head, your cheeks, your nose.

When you've all settled into the bed, you feel three pairs of arms around you, holding you close, and you feel insanely lucky for all of it. You snuggle deeper into someone's chest, humming absentmindedly in that dreamy, fucked-out headspace.

"Thank you," you mumble, pressing a kiss to whoever you're snuggled against. You think it's Jisung from the way they nuzzle into your cheek.

"Of course, princess," Chan replies, his voice vibrating against your back. You feel his lips press against your temple, and you smile again. "You're our good girl, even when you're a brat. We'll always take care of you.”

You don't bother replying, simply allowing yourself to sink back into that fuzzy state. You're about to slip out of consciousness when you feel Jisung's nose against your cheek.

"You really do need to be bratty more often, though."

You hear a dull thump as Seungmin smacks the back of his head, and you let their hushed bickering be the lullaby you need to lull you into sleep.

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The second you step into the VIP area, the relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

—-

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

“I need to call Daniel..”

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

[jifloulette]

heads up . . ! not proofread.. 0.7k wrds!

you should be used to these midnight break-ins of shidou by now. he was your boyfriend after all and you didn't really tell him that he wasn't allowed to do it, you just gave him a reminder to text you if he were to do so. but him texting you meant giving you a heads up at least an hour before he was going to break in! though this attitude of your lover was something you were already familiar with..

now here he was, knocking on your bedroom window ever so quietly as to not wake up anyone else inside the house. you had just read the message he sent you three minutes ago and now he was already here, you knew he was fast in terms of running but to have walked that long from his place to yours in that small amount of time and without sweating seemed absolutely impossible??

"heyyyy baby!", shidou said in a low yet excited tone. he gives you a quick peck on the lip before going inside your bedroom. you looked obviously annoyed and he doesn't know why, he did give you a message before climbing up to the second floor of the house... "why'd you come here in such a short notice? you could've at least given me a bit of time to clean up and look good, you know!" you scold him to which he laughs and responds by giving you another quick peck on your forehead. "what were you doing here anyways? yer room's so messy..", he asks to which you just scoff and go back to your laptop, working on finishing this project of yours that was supposed to be due during christmas break, who even gives projects during christmas anyway??

it didn't even reach his usual three minute mark of bothering you before he pulled you out of your chair to a tight embrace on your bed, he seemed much more needy than last time but who you were to worry about that now? you were already working on something and here was your big baby of a boyfriend holding you in his arms as if it was a lifeline of his. "shidou! i'm literally working on the same project that i was doing when you barged here the last few times this week!", you remind him as you try to get off of him but really, your strength couldn't compare to his so it was useless. "okay okay, but do you reaaally need to be working on that now? ya could just do it the second i leave which would be in another hour or so!"

this was like a regular thing for him now, to give you a message five minutes before knocking on your window, then pulling you aside whatever you were working on after waiting at least three minutes, and then you'll just stay in his embrace the whole time he was there. that's how frequently these midnight break-ins occurred, you had memorized how long shidou took to send you a chat and to climb up to your bedroom. "how'd you even get here so quickly anyways.. it's at least a few kilometers from here to yours and you sent that message 3 minutes before already knocking at my window?" you ask, "well, i was already in front of your house when i sent it, just waited a bit before getting up here" he replied before giving you a kiss on your forehead. and before you knew it, you were already fast asleep on his chest, your project being long forgotten once again. even if shidou really wanted to hold you in his arms for as long as the night lasted, he was bound to be caught by your parents if he did. so once he knew that you were deep in your slumber, he laid you on your bed and put a blanket on top of you. but before he left, he needed to do one last thing.

when you woke up, you could've swore your bedroom did not look this.. clean? or unorganized? it looked like your boyfriend did a semi-good job of tidying it up, it still looked better than what it originally looked last night. you check your phone before seeing a message sent of 2:04 am — "heh.. cleaned ur room because im such a good boyfriend arent i??? make sure to gimme a kiss latr as a thank you gift ;)"

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else. ౨ৎ

[imorynn]

⋆✩ where the heart finds rest ( l.calderu)

⋆✩ pairings : lilia calderu • fem!reader

⋆✩ warnings / mentions : depictions of mental health struggles, burnout, anxiety, emotional distress, comfort, mentions of nudity, baths, angst, fluff, lilia taking care of you! please prioritize your well-being

⋆✩ word count : 3k+

⋆✩ tags : @madamspellmans-met-tet

⋆✩ a/n : Please remember to be kind to yourself. Take breaks if you need to, allow yourself to feel, and seek comfort in the things that bring you joy and peace. You are never alone in your struggles, and your feelings — whatever they may be — are valid, you matter. This was a little heavy to write, but I hope this brings you a bit of comfort and joy <3

The room languished in dimness, its corners softened by the hesitant embrace of twilight, as another indistinct day bled into obscurity. A chaos of papers sprawled across the desk — half-filled notebooks, annotated drafts, and crumpled failures that bore the scars of fleeting inspiration turned sour. Shards of fractured thoughts clung to the edge of a ceramic mug, long abandoned, its contents a cold, bitter shadow of former comfort. Amidst the disarray, a faint, rhythmic clicking emanated from the keyboard, the cadence uneven — hesitant, then frenzied — as if each keystroke could carve coherence from the labyrinth of your mind.

Your body had betrayed you weeks ago. Sleep came in fits and bursts, cruel in its inadequacy, leaving you more fatigued upon waking than when you had closed your eyes. Standing for longer than a few moments brought on vertigo, the world tilting like a ship caught in a storm. Your legs trembled under you; your limbs would not stop from racketing. Even sitting upright had become an exercise in endurance, your focus slipping like grains of sand through tightened fists. Your day-to-day flow was unmoored, the concept of time fractured into pieces of light and shadow that no longer adhered to the clock. You could not help but feel hideous, an empty shell of the person you used to be. Even your brain, once sharp and unyielding, has turned against you. It demands stimulation, then recoils at the slightest effort, leaving you stultified and overwhelmed in equal measure. The cruel paradox is almost laughable, but you can’t even summon the energy for that.

Your posture betrayed the toll; shoulders curved under an invisible yoke, neck stiffened by hours of neglect, digits quivering with a fatigued urgency as they alternated between scrawling ink onto paper and translating disoriented thoughts onto the sterile glow of the monitor. The screen’s light painted your face in stark relief, illuminating knitted brows and eyes ringed with exhaustion.

Each line you wrote — whether traced by pen or clacked with desperate precision — felt both like a purge and a plea, a futile effort to wrest order from the chaos that churned within you. The words blurred together as you read and reread them, dissecting each syllable, cataloging for meaning in the spaces where meaning seemed to slip away. The soft hum of the computer blended with the shift of cushions beneath you and the whisper of paper beneath your hand, a symphony of toil that bore the weight of an unrelenting inner storm. And still, you could not stop. Could not stop chasing the fleeting promise that, perhaps, the next word might finally bring clarity — or at least silence— to the tempest.

Lilia had been patient — that is, at the beginning. Truth be told, she always harbored such grand patience when it came to you. She had tried coaxing you to bed with the tenderness of a woman who had weathered storms far greater than this, easing the pen from your clutch with soft murmurs that sought to bind you in reason. But reason, elusive and foreign, had long since slipped from your grasp. The days had obscured, each one bleeding into the next, and with them, so had her forbearance. What began as gentle encouragement turned to silent insistence, her words firmer, her gaze heavier, until tonight, she stood at the precipice of your unraveling.

Her figure filled the doorway, the tender light casting shadows across her features, etching worry into every delicate line. The ends of her maroon-tinted mouth, once so quick to curl into the warmest and loving smile for you, were clasped with exasperation, and her dark irises glimmered with something more profound than concern — a tightly woven twine of frustration, sorrow, and love she could no longer conceal.

She found you hunched on the couch, a blanket tangled around your clammy frame, loosely draping over your shoulders. You did not even notice her at first, too lost in the fog of your own misery.

Finally, she moved forward, her footsteps deliberate and unhurried, like the passing of time itself. Her shadow swept over you before her voice, low and lilting with its natural timbre, cut through the oppressive silence.

“Enough.” The utter was a soft command, steady but resolute.

You did not turn. Could not. Your gaze remained fixated on the page before you, though the words had long since dissolved into meaningless smudges. Ink bled into the fibers like a wound reopened again and again, staining your fingertips and every letter typed over, your palms, your very thoughts. “I can’t,” you rasped, barely audible, tone hollow and stretched thin. “I’m almost done.”

Her sigh was soft yet audible, a weight in the room that you couldn’t ignore. She stepped closer, the hems of her skirt grazing the floor before her silhouette draped over your hunched form like a caution. “No, you’re not. You’re grinding yourself into dust, darling.”

The truth in her words landed heavily, a stone descending into still water, the ripples quaking through your chest. Yet still, you refused to meet her eyes, refused to acknowledge her underlying honesty. “I said I can’t stop,” you snapped, the sharpness in your tone cracking under its own weight. “Don’t you get it, Lilia? If I stop, everything— everything, just for one second — it all falls apart. I fall apart.”

“And you think this is holding it together?” she retorted, her voice cutting, each remark peeling back another layer of your defiance. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself. Do you even remember the last time you slept? Ate something that wasn’t cold coffee or a stale bag of chips?” The coolness of her rings bit into her digits when they tightened their hold over the cushions, trembling faintly as if she were holding back something fiercer. “I can comprehend that all those things aren’t easy for you, but you’re killing yourself, piece by piece, and for what? To prove you’re enough? To push until there’s nothing left of you?”

The room seemed to diminish in size, her words closing in around you. The dull pain in your chest spasmed, a visceral reaction to the veracity you attempted so hard in brushing aside even if it lingered, it floated, it haunted. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the computer and the shallow rasp of your breath, the silence all consuming. Anger and despair warred for control when your arms came up to push against the table in front of you causing her to slightly step back. “You don’t understand! — You don’t know what it’s like to feel this… this useless. To not even recognize your own body, your own mind. To fail at the one thing you’ve always been good at.”

Lilia’s expression softened, the sharp brinks of her frustration giving way to something deeper, sadder. What Lilia saw brought nothing but ache and pain to her poor heart. You were unwell, eyes ringed red, and bags beneath them practically the size of a quarter. While your complexion still carried its hue, it lacked the depth the sun and proper rest brought upon you. She moved closer, her movements deliberate but unthreatening, until she stood beside you, one of her hands grappling with wanting to reach out to still your trembling ones. “I understand more than you think,” she declared quietly, carrying the weight of centuries you could not begin to fathom. “But this… this isn’t strength.” Her hand gestured to the mess, to your body curled in on itself, to the dark hollows beneath your eyes.

“I’m not asking you to stop because I don’t understand,” she gently spoke now but no less wavering. “I’m asking because I do. I’ve been there, trying to outrun the weight of your mind, thinking you can carry it all alone. But you can’t. No one can. And if you keep going like this…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “If you keep going like this, I’m afraid there won’t be anything left of the woman I love to save.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, like a mirror held too close — forcing you to confront the reflection of your unraveling. Your exhale clawed its way up your throat, and your hands finally went still when Lilia’s came in contact with them. The pen slipped from your grip, rolling to the edge of the desk before coming to a halt.

You wanted to argue at first, to push her away, but the fight had drained out of you. The tears came suddenly, unbidden, hot, and relentless, cascading down your cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop,” you whispered, words barely audible over the sound of your sobs. One of your hands came up to bury into your tangled hair, defiance slipping into a broken plea. “I don’t know how.”

The space between her shoulders welcomed your exhausted physique, arms encircling to swaddle you just right because gods, you needed this. Your head bowed into her chest as she drew you into her shawl, her heat, her strength, her homely fragrance. She did not shush you, feed you with false hopes or tell you it would be okay now; she simply held you, her hand stroking your hair despite its matted and disheveled state, her presence grounding you in a way that felt both painful and necessary. The sobs came in waves, wracking your body with a ferocity that left you gasping. Lilia held you as though you were something precious, palms cradling you with the utmost care, her lips falling over your forehead in murmured reassurances.

“Come, my love,” She reached down and she coaxed you gently to your feet. She wrapped an arm around your waist and you wrapped yours around her neck for stability.

She guided you into the bathroom, positioning your body over the closed toilet seat. “Sit here while I draw you a bath. ” You sat down with a sigh, tipping your head back against the wall behind the toilet and letting your eyelids flutter shut for a moment, trying to ignore the pounding of your temples. And although your eyes were closed, your brow remained quirked. As if even in your thoughts you came face to face with the problems you were trying to avoid. You heard the pause of movements before a soft kiss was met with your forehead, somewhat easing all the tightness you were undergoing, and that little smile of yours was enough for her to resume her actions.

You heard the streams of water running, followed by the soft shuffling of Lilia’s movements; she worked with quiet and deft efficiency, adding a few drops of oil that released a grounding aroma in the air. Steam rose around you and softened the edges of the room in gentle swirls, carrying the fragrance of herbs and oils — lavender, chamomile, a hint of rosemary. All serene and soothing within your aching lungs as you inhaled deeply. The tinge of citrine within the atmosphere made you open your eyes, already sensing your lover hovered above you.

Lilia’s chocolate browns swirled softly with compassion and love, leaking reassurance before she crouched between your legs. “Let me help you, my heart.” Her graceful fingers worked methodically to unbutton your shirt, to slip it from your shoulders with such a tenderness that made your throat tighten, blinking back tears at the nickname she tended to call you, your head dipping down. Her touch never lingered too long, never straying from what was necessary. When you were exposed before her, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with nudity, she does not gaze at you with pity or repugnance. Only love. Fierce, unyielding love.

She stood from between your legs and held her hands out for you to take, which you obliged. You delicately placed your hands in hers and stood up. She undid the string of your pants and slid them down your lower body as you stepped out of them.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she whispered when your forehead brushed her temple, her fingers moving to tuck a damp curl behind your ear.

You did not resist as she helped you into the water, the soaked warmth enveloping you like a cocoon. A soreness took over, yet you welcomed the capacity of it, the tension in your muscles unwinding in increments as the heat seeped into your aching joints. “I’ll go get you a towel and set out some fresh clothes.”

You trembled from its temperature, and while the act somewhat alleviated your body’s ache, it did not reach or thaw the hollow coldness concealed in your chest. You sat in the center of the tub, knees drawn to your bare chest, shoulders hunched like a battered bird too afraid to unfold its wings. The water glimmered faintly, lavender-scented and calm, a direct contrast to the tempest inside you. You stared blandly at the surface but could not bring yourself to move.

Lilia returned back into the bathroom and was met with your expression. The light pranced across her features — those soft laugh lines, her sharp cheekbones, and her ever-watchful gaze that had always seemed to see you, truly see you. You could not bring yourself to meet those eyes now.

“I don’t know why you bother,” you whispered, your voice brittle as a dried leaf, barely holding itself together. You brought your knees tighter into your abdomen, your gaze intended downward as though the clear dampness of it might envelop you entirely. “This isn’t me. I'm not going to stop — I’m not… that version of a person. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

She tilted her head, silver locks framing her features in similar shape to a halo, but her eyes blazed with something sharper than sympathy — resolve. “You’re still you, y/n.”

You shook your head vehemently, tears glazing your eyes as you attempted to form the words that gnawed at your chest. “No, Lilia, I’m not. I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.” The words spewed out, ragged and raw and shameful. “I’m nothing. I stand here, right before the debris of everything I was, and there’s nothing left — I’m nothing. I don’t even know how… how or why am I still existing.”

Her shawl was discarded, kneeling beside you as her hands, holding a washcloth, dipped into the water and wrung it before shuffling closer. “Tilt your head back for me,” she instructed softly. It was neither commanded nor meek — it was a simple request, spoken with the intimacy of someone who knew how to speak to you when words felt unbearable.

You obeyed, streams of warm water dampening your head. You groaned softly at the feel of warm water on your scalp, slowly letting yourself melt against her touch. Grabbing a bottle of shampoo, she poured a generous amount upon her palm before finding its way to your hair. Discarded from her signature rings, her fingers followed and worked through the unkempt tangles with infinite patience, scrubbing away the residue of neglect, her touch both practical and reverent.

“I know it’s hard to stop,” she began, her hands moving in leisured, circular motions. “You think if you stop, everything will fall apart. That there’s no time to rest. But your body is telling you otherwise. You need to learn and listen. You are wrong, you aren't debris. You are not a ruin.”

A dry and bitter laugh emerged, and you glanced at her finally, your tears uniting with the water droplets pelting your skin, not even sparing a care if the burn of suds collided with your vision. “Look at me,” you croaked. “Look at me, Lilia. I can barely stand without falling over. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. My body is falling apart, my mind’s barely hanging on, my heart — the very heart you say that’s yours and that you love isn’t good! You're right, there's nothing left to save! And I don’t — I don’t know how to put it all back together.” Your breath hitched as a sob tore through you. “I don’t know why you’re still here. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t — if you didn’t love me anymore.”

“How dare you.”

You blinked, taken aback, oxygen cutting off as you completely met her gaze. Her orbs were moistened, yet they were fierce, unfaltering in their intensity.

“How dare you think so little of my love,” she spoke firmly and loudly and hurt laced every utterance. Foamed fingers wounded around your shoulders and turnt you towards her in one smooth motion. “Do you think my love is conditional? That it’s so fragile, so shallow, that it would shatter because you are struggling? You, who have shown and given me everything — every piece of yourself, every ounce of your light, your soul, who has taught me to find my way back. Do you think I would abandon you now, when you need me most?”

Her words demolished you, the sheer force of them tearing through the walls you had built around your remorse and despair. Streaks of tears once more down your drenched cheeks, her thumbs stroking them away, her fingers swiftly swatting back the mingled water and soap from your eyes as she tipped your chin up and lightly kissed your forehead.

“My darling girl, let me continue helping you. Let me take care of you. You do not have to endure this all alone.”

With a soft nod from you and another kiss from her, this time directed to your lips, she gently turned you around and proceeded to wash your hair, thoroughly swilling every bit.

She then gathered a washcloth and preferred body wash, dipped it into the water, and rubbed it together to get it foamed. She washed you with exact loving care, moving the immersed rag over your tired muscles, cleansing away the grime and the heaviness of the past weeks. She hummed softly under her breath — a melody you do not recognize but find comforting in the velvet brittle of her octave nonetheless — and you close your eyes, surrendering to her ministrations.

"Your hand?" As she uprose fully, without wasting a second you gave her your fingers to hold, and she steadied you onto your feet as you stepped out. She huddled you out of the tub and bundled you in the fuzziest towel you loved. One palm cradled the curve of your cheek while the other steadied upon your covered waist. "let's get you dressed, my love."

You sat at the hem of the bed, partaking in drying yourself up — though she wouldn't allow it — as she smoothed your lotion over your parched skin, gingerly taking in the way the ointment dissolved across your shoulders that was ensued with a soft kiss.

"You are not debris," she repeated as she slid your limbs into fresh and comfy clothes, aware of the way your eyes brimmed with tears. "You are not a ruin, and you most certainly are not 'nothing'." Her movements were unhurried, as though time itself had decelerated and permitted her this moment to care for you.

She does not allow you to lift a finger, guiding you to the bed with a patience that feels endless. The sheets were warm, the pillows plumped just so, and she tucked you beneath the blankets before nestling in beside you. Those cinnamon brown pools engulfed you in their safety assisted with the loving strokes of her fingers upon the side of your face. "If you fall, I will be there to catch you. If you cannot sleep, I will hold you. If you cannot think, then allow me to hold those thoughts for you. If you fall apart, and your mind is barely grasping onto reality, I am going to help build you up again, and again, and again. Every version of you, I love and will continue to love. You are here right now, and that is all that matters to me."

Her arms embraced you in a way that left no ounce for uncertainty —you are hers, and she will care for you, no matter how broken you feel. The pads of her fingers continue soothing patterns on your back, her lips landing in tender kisses on your temple, the crown of your head, your soaked cheeks. “You are not a burden,” The warmth of her words bristled through your shaggy tresses. “You are my love. My heart, do you understand? Let me hold you.”

And so you do. You give her the privilege to hold you, relinquishing to her love. It does obliterate the chaos or untangle the knots within you— it simply cannot, unfortunately. Though in her arms, the compressing load you have carried alone for so long felt just a fraction lighter. The tightness in your chest eased, the burn in your throat subsided, and the tears you have been swallowing for the past days ebbed. You nestled your head in the hollow of her neck, her heartbeat lulled your aching bones, your broken soul, your tender flesh, and you let those tired eyes of yours flutter shut with the feel of her lips grazing your forehead.

[star2fishmeg]

do you have any luke recommends meg? I'm with nonnie I think most of my fav luke stories were by deactivated accounts 😢😢

Of course!! Firstly, shamelessly plugging myself lmfao and I have a rec list here that should have updated links now! You may have already seen these before but here's a few recent ones too!

≡ᴍᴇɢ's ʟᴜᴋᴇ ʜᴜɢʜᴇs ғɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄs ɪɪ

—sᴍᴜᴛ

♥ 25 of diamonds by @puck-luck ➥ Andy delivered with this. And I ate the blurb up once, twice, thrice and many more. Can't recommend her stuff enough but this one, this one did things to me that I can't explain. It was a req BUT it was defo personal and I still read it.

♥ finger sucking blurb by @wineauntie ➥ Hot hot hot hot, Luke's fingers + Ivy's writing is incredible. I frequently go back to this whenever I need a quick read while cooking or need to get an extra fix of delusion.

♥ thigh riding blurb by @wineauntie ➥ Yes, I know, always dropping Ivy in here somewhere but THESE BLURBS ARE SO GOOD! This one, oh, this one is just spectacular and just yes, wet. You need to check them out if you haven't.

♥ honky tonk flame by @bewaryofpity ➥ COWBOY LUKE! That's hot enough. This fic is just so smooth and charming, you get to the end and hope they meet again! I needed more. Just Luke in jeans and a pool table? Salivating.

♥ "i'm all yours" blurb by @jo-speaks ➥ Oh I do love a bit of sub Luke and this is so hot with y/n's lil spell of jealousy. Gave me literal butterflies, kicked my feet and giggled. Honestly, all these blurbs are so yummy so go check them all.

♥ home for the holidays by @puck-luck ➥I read this, like, twice a week? It's jam-packed and the concept is literally a pussy killer. No sex over xmas? Seems easy but NOOOOOOOOO not with Luke. The stakes makes it sooo juicy. It's shocking to believe but I do enjoy dom!Luke too.

—ғʟᴜғғ

♥ more hearts than mine - her family's Christmas by @withwritersblock ➥ When I tell you adorable, I mean it. I felt the stress on a personal level with this one and my God, the things I would do to live this. I really loved the sibling dynamic in this, it was real and how siblings actually behave towards each other. Devoured this.

♥ you are in love by @withwritersblock ➥ STOP THIS ONE IS SO CUTE! My tummy went all fuzzy when reading and it's just-oh God they're so in love it aches and y/n's friends are so funny with their reactions.

♥ his name by @cupidbedsy ➥ Tooth rotting fluff. Loser Luke having a crush and is so awkward and it's the cutest thing ever. I think about this fic often, and you should too. The pacing is so perfect and I just think the emphasis of his name on her back reassuring her support is beautiful.

♥ "i'll give you a ride, don't worry." blurb by @hischierslovergirl ➥ Um hello? Perfect execution? Yeah, this one may have been requested by me but the writing makes me kick my feet and giggle. The only way to describe the ending is with a chef's kiss.

♥ next step is love by @bewaryofpity ➥ Dropped TODAY and did not disappoint. It's so domestic and I always eat up the team banter. If you adore best-friends-who-aren't-really-best-friends then you'll love this one. A lot. Tooth rotting and so so cute, I'm speechless.

—ᴀɴɢsᴛ

♥ let it happen by @bratbarzal ➥ Maggie made me violent with this series. It's so raw and natural, devoured it from beginning to end. If you don't like being happy, this is the series for you. On a real note, it's so well written and there is never a dull moment with the drama and almosts.

[fitzjamesbulletwound]

if you ever wanted to hear my every thought on fitzier you're in luck because here it is! this is extremely long so it's going under the cut and if you read it all, i love you

fitzier- shame, performance, and the freeing ordeal of being known 

oh man okay here we go everyone, if this sucks or is too stupid or too anything feel free to kill me

essentially what i want to try to convey here is that the reason crozier and fitzjames go from enemies to friends to lovers is because they both see each other and see themselves in each other in a way that frightens and compels them, hence the early enmity with a tinge of familiarity and desperation to connect thrown in. with the inevitable evolution of their relationship i really think it becomes about learning to be vulnerable with one another, to give each other space to be who they need to be, both to each other and their subordinates, and finally coming to a point where fitzjames, the most performative insecure character in the story (to me), bares his entire soul to crozier, whose own character development allows him to give james the gift of acceptance and compassion in that moment. i’m not going to go episode by episode like i did with my joplittle post but this is more or less in chronological order with maybe a few exceptions idk i get possessed when i write this stuff

the first scene we’ve got to look at is of course the dinner scene. james is absolutely showboating like no other in this scene but in his body language you can see he isn’t confident at all- fidgeting, gesturing, exaggerating, the voice he tends to put on in early episodes prevalent. but when crozier interrupts him you can see for a split second that james was actually excited to get attention from him until he realizes what he’s saying. in the early episodes james craves crozier’s attention and approval so badly because he knows that crozier doesn’t bullshit and he sees things for what they are and isn’t afraid to voice that either and despite the fact that this sometimes makes james uncomfortable as it is not in line with victorian ideals of emotional expression and masculinity, i think james, given the kind of man he is at the start of the story, craves the recognition of a man who he knows would see everything in him. early early early foreshadowing and story weaving for the cairn scene where he realizes “he can tell this man anything. it is possible”

what i also find fascinating about early james and francis is that they still refer to one another in a very familiar way despite the fact that they openly dislike each other- it’s always first name basis even when they’re arguing. also interesting to note that crozier in the beginning will often call him “fitzjames” in front of others when he’s discussing him when he’s not in the room, but later on he makes sure to always use his proper title when he’s talking about him in front of the men- showing james respect even when he dislikes him. i think he doesn’t understand at the time that james’s familiarity with him is an attempt at respect as well (the whole ‘don’t ever call me francis again’ scene). it might be a stretch but i do get the sense that from the very beginning they both tried at being friendly, even just for the sake of maintaining order in command.

when francis says “here technology still bends the knee to luck james” in ep 1 he says it with almost a mentor-like cadence. like yeah they’re both being a little bitchy here but god knows franklin wasn’t giving fitzjames any real or pertinent advice about surviving and navigating the fucking arctic so i find it interesting that crozier almost gently reminds him that yeah they’re making decent progress but that it would be foolish to let their guard down

one of my favorite early fitzier scenes is after dinner when crozier, franklin, and fitzjames are all on deck and fitzjames like sidles up to crozier and looks him up and down and just goes “goodnight francis” with that smirk on his face- he was trying so hard to flirt with him while also being an insufferable bitch with “try to shake the brown study”. but also james lingers so long waiting for francis to say something to him and then shakes his head and walks away to go bitch to franklin about him- i think he is truly hurt in this instance along with being angry and annoyed. and i love that complication because on one hand, i do think that fitzjames thinks that crozier owes him friendship or at the very least recognition because of who james believes himself to be, or at least who he’s trying to be- like he DOES probably see crozier as being beneath him as an irishman but i do think he genuinely wants his friendship and approval as well, for self serving reasons but not entirely. it’s about fitzjames and his desire to be seen by everyone around him in a certain light but also about his desire to be seen specifically by crozier because of who crozier is and how he acts in contrast to everyone else around them

next on the agenda is “dramatic opening shot”... fitzjames girl you are the most dramatic man in the fucking room. the projection is crazy. what this scene reveals most importantly i think is that another thing about francis that james is secretly very envious of is his ability to openly disagree with franklin. there are so many moments later on where you can see that james doesn’t fully believe in what franklin is saying or commanding (the way he looks at him when they realize they are trapped in the pack, the ways he looks at him when he tells fitzjames to escort silna off of erebus right after her father has died) and i think that he envies francis’s ability to challenge franklin and not care what the consequences are. anyway the staredown during this scene is crazy, the tension??

moving on… beginning of ep 1 crozier says “not if fitzjames is with us” in reference to jop saying dinner will be over before he knows it, and at the beginning of ep 2 fitzjames says “do you think francis will honor us with his presence today”- for two people who allegedly hate each other they sure do think about each other and find reasons to bring each other up in conversation a lot! 

ahh the scene with silna’s father- fitzjames is so interesting to me in this scene and really illustrates one of my favorite things about him in the earlier episodes which is that when he goes silent his face journeys are amazing and really convey his true feelings that he won’t say out loud for various reasons. he watches crozier so much in this scene and looks to him for understanding and guidance which is also interesting because i do think that in this scene he’s watching silna, a woman who he probably sees as subhuman and alien, reacting with such grief and tenderness to her father’s death and probably thinking of his relationship with his own father. i know a lot of people speculate that he was just feeling empathy for her there and i do think that’s part of it but i think that to show that in his mind would be to out himself as being “not fully english”. i think i make this point later on in the story too but fitzjames really does that classic white supremacist thing of distancing yourself from “otherness” in order to align yourself with imperialist beliefs and status- he does it with silna and he does it with crozier. sorry this is also turning into my fitzjames character study lol.

the scene where crozier walks out after his big blow up with franklin… i get that james really didn’t have any place to try to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping but i find it so interesting that he decides to turn to face francis and look him directly in the eye. from what we can see of his expression i personally think there was at least a small amount of sympathy there. another attempt to extend friendship and familiarity while actively participating in crozier’s humiliation… god i hate him lol. and the face that james is making when francis first walks out before he turns around is contemplative, not like smug or triumphant or anything like we might expect given how much he seems to dislike crozier at this point. and francis looking back at him… there’s no anger there, just sadness and humiliation and it sucks. i would truly do anything to be able to see james’s face there, in the script it says that crozier can tell how much james heard from the look on his face which like??? could mean so much.

okay the face journey when francis walks into the erebus wardroom after sir john dies… his eyes stay on fitzjames who’s obviously extremely distraught and i wonder if crozier has ever seen fitzjames show genuine emotion up until this point? crozier then looks to blanky, who also looks to fitzjames almost as if to say “look at him, attend to him” and the sorrow and vulnerability on francis’s face when he looks again to james who is of course also showing a vulnerability we haven’t seen from him before. i love the note in the script that fitzjames isn’t used to being this candid or vulnerable in front of a man he doesn’t respect but he does it anyway. and i don’t think he knows how much sympathy crozier does have for him despite how callous he may come across when he says to send out the rescue parties. they both just fail so spectacularly at communication and expression early on, it’s crazy to see

when francis begins reading from the eulogy and stumbles over his words fitzjames gives him a very sharp look… i think he clocks his alcoholism starting to really affect him right away but may also be looking to see if the stumble is due to emotion or the alcohol. ugh and the look he gives him at the end too… it’s so piercing and there’s an anger to it as well. almost a “please prove me wrong but i don’t believe at this point that you will”. because for better or worse now they are linked, intertwined, married and they have to find a way to make it work.

ohhhh the fitzier dinner scene my beloved… “as i climbed the ridge” is such a parallel to james’s chinese sniper story scene!! AND this time it’s fitzjames who derisively interrupts crozier. The parallels, the callbacks… the look he gives fitzjames is crazy when fitzjames says “you should curb that for now” but what i find the most interesting about this scene is that the script makes a point to say that fitzjames was being sincere when he said that to crozier- there is care and concern there underneath the frustration and anger. and then it’s also wild that in that moment, fitzjames clearly reminds crozier of sophia. the way the narrative almost shifts to replace crozier’s love interest (sophia) with his burgeoning relationship with fitzjames is soooooo. i just love this scene because they are both trying so hard to be vulnerable and open with one another but they are both failing so spectacularly just like in the scene after sir john dies. they don’t have the respect and rapport between them yet to back up what they desperately want from each other- a connection. a camaraderie. leadership and capability. fitzjames tries to be sincere in his concern for francis but it is overshadowed by his frustration and anger towards what he views to be a sour outlook from crozier, and crozier attempts to be vulnerable with james by sharing about sophia only to be met with the knowledge that franklin has humiliated him yet again by discussing that topic with other people aboard the ship. and i think fitzjames does truly pity francis in that moment but it also frustrates him that that is the reason he’s here, for love, not for a yearning for adventure or glory- which i would venture to say is why fitzjames is there. fitzjames went on the expedition to prove his worth and francis went for love and they both ended up finding exactly those things from one another i’m dead.

oh and also why the fuck does fitzjames arch his slutty back against the wall when francis walks out of the room like that one scene in hannibal y’all know what i’m talking about. okay and i forgot about the way fitzjames jabs his finger at francis all up in his personal space which is just so unlike him. it is also worth noting that francis doesn’t get angry at this- he actually stills for a second and then continues to tell james what he was going to tell him. again there’s that strange familiarity they have despite the fact that they hate each other at this point. and that’s to say nothing of how they’re sitting in the first place which is so close to each other idk it just seems a little crazy to me?

i also find it so so interesting how james chooses to be honest with francis once he accidentally reveals that franklin discussed the whole sophia thing with him- he could’ve deflected and said like “oh yeah he mentioned it in passing’ or something like that but he chose to tell francis the truth of the conversation! francis really brings out an honest and candid side to james that we don’t see him put on for anyone else and i think it’s because deep down he knows that no matter how shitty, francis is always going to respect being told the truth vs. all of the obfuscating language that is so typical of the time. i think this is also why in the next episode francis insists that everyone leaves after he punches fitzjames and fitzjames is very resigned to it as well- they both know that it’s going to be ugly but they both want to hash out the truth of the situation for better or worse- like yeah they are at each other’s throats and they want the catharsis of screaming at each other because they’re so mad at each other here but i also think they crave honesty and candidness in their interactions- james because he feels like a fake and francis because it’s his nature- but both because it’s what they want from each other. and back to the dinner scene- just another look of genuine hurt from fitzjames when crozier says “keep your pity” plus the whole reason crozier even says that- i don’t think he expects pity from anyone at this point and doesn’t know how to respond to it.

in the scene where fitzjames says they should question silna about the creature crozier makes a point to say he agrees with him- he does this a couple of different times throughout the show and i think it’s a very small but important detail about how even when they aren’t on the best terms he makes sure to show james respect in front of the officers. and like yeah they end up yelling at each other here but i think that’s more james’s grief showing (again he shows emotion in front of/because of francis) and francis’s stress showing as well- that “we’re all exhausted” is very aimed at james but also an attempt to explain his own state of mind. they’re trying!!!!

the lashing scene- i don’t think we’ve ever seen fitzjames actually afraid of crozier but he definitely is here. he’s clenching his hands so hard throughout the whole scene and he keeps glancing at crozier as he allows the lashing to go on and even nervously gulps at one point. i think this along with crozier’s worsening addiction is a huge catalyst for where we find them and their dynamic in ep 5.

and speaking of which- at the beginning of the episode you can really see how their communication has just completely broken down. edward is basically bridging the gap between them and the resentment is growing. i know that the alcoholism is part of it, we can only assume that fitzjames started to keep his distance once he could tell it was getting bad, but i also think a lot of this is fall out from the lashing and how it affected the way fitzjames felt about crozier as stated earlier. and another aspect of the widening gap between fitzjames and crozier is how erebus is the very picture of order while terror is literally and figuratively falling apart 

the fact that fitzjames told collins to watch out for crozier running out of alcohol on terror is further evidence that fitzjames was around a bit to witness crozier’s alcoholism getting really bad and isolated himself after that. he’s angry but he knows it was coming

ugh man the fight scene- the fact that james came himself, alone, to terror to talk to francis as a friend (straight from his own mouth in the script of their argument) about the alcohol issue. even though james is furious and stressed and shouldering the whole expedition, he still attempts to care for francis, it just ends up blowing up in his face and that’s when he lashes out. the way he says “francis” at first before crozier freaks out on him is in such a sincere and gentle tone and just the fucking genuine hurt in his face and his tone of voice when francis tells him to never call him by his first name again. fitzjames cared when francis was at his fucking lowest but still held him responsible and that’s love baby.

the body language is crazy when they’re yelling at each other or i guess when fitzjames is reading francis lol- and the way crozier can’t take his eyes off fitzjames when he’s telling everyone to get out. he’s so ready for this fucking throw down because both of them have been holding this in for so long. crozier is amped up but fitzjames is resigned to finally getting it all out in the open. he wants it to happen and he knows it needs to. even after getting punched in the mouth by him (i don’t think it’s any accident that fitzjames literally bears a scar from that punch and that it comes back open when he’s dying of scurvy) fitzjames still calmly tells everyone yes get out and says what he needs to say. i love the transcript of their argument because it’s so brutal but it really illustrates a kind of fucked up intimacy that we aren’t 100% privy to between them. crozier knows exactly what to say to james to hurt him- telling him he doesn’t have friends, he has admirers and that james has always been mad that he isn’t one, that james is a coward despite the fact that james is facing this down no matter what it takes in order to literally save crozier’s life; and james knows that all he can do is soldier through and lay the truth of what is happening on francis in a way no one else has dared to except for silna minutes before. james really goes out of his comfort zone- being honest and sincere and vulnerable for the sake of the expedition but also for francis. and i’m reading this back and wondering if i’m being too generous to james here but tbh he had every right to be this angry at francis at this point in the story! 

ha fitzjames walks into the “i need to dry out meeting” looking all submissive and contrite… but for real his face is so open and entreating in this scene. he’s still annoyed but he wants so badly for things to go right. and you can see in francis’s expression that he is so ashamed to have to ask him 

mmm and part of fitzjames coming to love and respect crozier is seeing jopson’s devotion to him in this scene… he’s never seen crozier be admired the way franklin was and i think this is a whole new way for him to see him. and just in general here i think that james “reshuffles everything he thought about the man” and he admires crozier for the way he put his humility and vulnerability in front of him finally and admitted to his wrongs, something i also don’t think franklin would ever do and didn’t ever do, to his and the entire crew’s demise. fitzjames followed franklin and looked up to him in the pursuit of his own vanity and the narrative he tells himself to cover the shame, but he learns to respect and love francis because he watches his evolution as a captain and as a man without any of the obfuscating that he’s used to from authority figures. he watches francis claw his way out of his own shame, the shame that drives him forward and i wonder what kind of ideas that gave fitzjames and how it influenced his own decision to share everything about his past with francis later

what i love about the opening scene of ep 6 is that we see how fitzjames’s leadership has been influenced by franklin and francis but specifically how he is acting more like francis- he does do a little bit of the whole “how dare you bring up anything unpleasant” thing when he yells at jirv for mentioning the number of men and when he does the whole “oh it’s just winter, we’ll feel better with the first sunrise, encourage the men with that” thing but it’s interesting because although we’re hearing echoes of franklin here, fitzjames is still trying to be more honest and open to feedback than franklin was. he doesn’t exactly take jirv’s advice on rationing but he does ration a bit. he is doing the whole toxic positivity thing with his “use that to encourage the men” line but he is also recognizing how hard everything has been for everyone and using an actual tangible event to lift spirits rather than referring to meaningless bullshit about god and country. and the simple fact that he seeks blanky’s advice and knowledge is more than sir john would ever have done in a scenario like this. he understands from blanky’s story about ross that he himself hasn’t been doing enough to combat the horror of their situation for the men, he understands that he must do more. even the way he asks ‘what do you mean’ when blanky says ross had no sympathy for the ill. to not care for the ill is an alien concept to him. tt’s so interesting because fitzjames occupies a space not dissimilar to francis’s- he has access and power in the hierarchy of the discovery service but, within his own mind, he is still an outsider. crozier on the other hand is a visible and tangible outsider due to his birth and his nationality. everyone can see it and i think that’s also part of why fitzjames is so antagonistic towards francis in the beginning- the projection goes crazy and in the true spirit of colonialism and white supremacy, james believes that if he can make himself as far apart from someone like francis as possible and align himself with men like franklin and barrow despite sharing way more similarities with francis than he does with them, he can succeed in upholding himself as the vision of victorian masculinity and social worthiness that he so desperately tries to emulate- this is what i was thinking about during the scene with silna’s father where he’s reluctant to fully show his (partial) sympathy to her

the line from the script that kills me is when it says a clock has begun for fitzjames once he discovers the blood in his hair… god it kills me, he knew he was dying for months. for literal months and who knows if he even told anyone but… i do think he had to have told francis at some point. it makes me so sick, it’s literally why the cairn walk scene happens- he knew he was dying, he knew it and one of the last things he wanted before he died was for someone to see him, truly see him flaws and mistakes and vanity and all before he died. and he wanted that person to be francis

gotta include the scene where james tells edward that francis was right about walking out- this is a huge turning point from ep 1

it’s so funny that when crozier and fitzjames see each other at carnival you can tell james is like “oh shit i’m in trouble” but crozier is just slightly amused seeing him like that and even though he finds the carnival strange and sees how reckless it was, he doesn’t chide james or the men about it even though that’s cleary what james is expecting. crozier empathizes with their longing for home and their need to do something happy and uses that momentum to tell the men about walking out and doing his best to reassure them about their chances. the way fitzjames looks up at him and nods along with him- i don’t think we’ve seen fitzjames look at him like that yet up until this point. he is seeing francis for who he can be as a competent captain and we are seeing crozier really step into that role. i also think that francis was relieved that fitzjames saw the urgency in walking out and that he wasn’t going to have to convince him the way he would’ve had to convince franklin. their leadership is finally syncing up here, built on humility (francis admitting he had an addiction and choosing to do something about it, fitzjames admitting how wrong he was about francis and his use of caution and logic) and respect (i do think crozier respected fitzjames for trying to build morale to the best of his ability and i think fitzjames respected francis finally behaving like the captain he needed him to be) 

during the fire there’s a small moment where james is frozen- no doubt from ptsd which he deserves- and francis sends him ahead to look for an exit, telling him to go. he fucking loves him!!!!

poor fitzjames.. like yes the ghosts of his colonial past and all that of course which i will never not fully support him being subjected to but damn. and i don’t think he shrugs francis off because it’s francis or because he’s angry with them, he is punishing himself and francis sees that and lets him do what will help ease his own guilt and pain. tt is a moment of understanding between them i believe- fitzjames showing vulnerability in front of a man he now respects while adding another failure to his own personal checklist he keeps against himself (i can only imagine he does anyway). francis’s attempt to show him care and understanding while not undercutting his usefulness is also such an inspired choice for what he knows of fitzjames. you can really see the care starting to sprout between them here. i can only imagine what the rest of the winter was like but i feel like by episode 7, their dynamic has just completely changed, their entire vibe is different. and their love couldn’t have happened until they left the ships so it came at the worst and best time. 

and by ep 7 their dynamic has just so completely shifted. even the fact that they are supervising the packing for the walk together and this may be real delusional hours but sending edward ahead to make the first camp instead of one of them going is a little interesting to me. i believe he’s technically the next in line for leadership after fitzjames but like did francis and james want to spend time together? with crozier finally dried out and knowing james’s time is almost up? them finally in a comfortable and friendly place? i love their conversation during the packing scene because fitzjames is voicing a concern to francis who calmly explains his reasoning and when fitzjames continues to press his own doubts they remain civil, familiar, acknowledge one another’s thought processes etc. a scene like this could NEVER have happened in episode 1 or 2. i looooong to know what they were like together during the winter after carnival 

you all know i am INSANE about the fitzier hand holding scene, no one can match my freak on this. tt makes my stomach flutter every time i see it. it is my pride and prejudice hand clenching scene. first i want to acknowledge the quote from the script- “at one point, the only thing keeping fitzjames from sliding back into oblivion is crozier’s hand, but half the importance about the act is that fitzjames reached for it.” this KILLS me more than anything else from the script. and honestly at this point in the story i am becoming convinced that james told crozier about the scurvy, they knew the whole fucking time, they knew. they are literally marching to their deaths, against all odds still going, still trying and they are falling in love. the way james gazes up at francis in awe when he sees the offered hand and doesn’t stop looking at francis when he is up on the ridge. crozier doesn’t even turn to look at james, but he does make sure to stop and wait for him and extend the hand that he knows that james needs. Based on honestly even just this alone i am convinced that crozier knew about the scurvy already. there’s no fucking way he didn’t. and then the way james grabs francis’s jacket and holds on while they stare at each other, crozier smiling- it’s so interesting to me because it very much tells of finding an excuse to touch crozier again, as if he was so in awe of the touch that crozier initiated a few minutes before that he needed it again. he was trying to find a way to touch him again in that “this has to be acceptable by victorian standards of emotional and loving expression” way. and crozier accepts it! he smiles, he meets his gaze. there’s triumph there. and don’t think i didn’t fucking notice that the hand that francis keeps is the hand that held fitzjames’s hand and that also held his face when he was dying.

in the scene with morfin, as soon as crozier notices that james is there he makes sure to maneuver over to james so he can place himself between james and the gun despite the fact that he is unarmed and james has his pistol with him. i don’t necessarily doubt that francis would do this earlier in the story but i can say that he does this here as a selfless act of love and protection 

and then the jop promotion scene yay the way james looks at francis with admiration and curiosity when he hands him the promotion letter to sign and the way james smiles at him when he reads it but not just because of that- but because of the words francis uses and the way francis is looking at him, saying someone “has earned our respect (looks to james), trust” and fitzjames smiles and nods- it’s not just about agreeing with him about jopson. this is how fitzjames feels about crozier now and the fact that crozier even in this small subtle way acknowledges that he  DID need to prove himself to james after his behavior during the winter. their dynamic is just so much different now! at the end when everyone is shaking jopson’s hand, fitzjames gives crozier like… the most insane loving soft look… he looks so so happy. i don’t think we’ve ever seen him look like that before.

and now we are at the cairn walk. i again have to say how during this rewatch i become convinced of the knowledge that crozier has to know that fitzjames is dying. there’s just no way he doesn’t. the conversation they have about it does not convey that james is telling him this for the first time. tt more so implies that they both know but don’t speak of it often and james is updating francis with the vital information, the stages he’s at. what made fitzier happen was them leaving the boats, james dying, crozier getting sober, them both laying it all out on the table in different moments of vulnerability- crozier with his addiction, james with his heritage. the way those scenes parallel each other is actually crazy. james is fucking dying, they are all marching to their deaths and the knowledge that they are doing so is slowly sinking in, and all james wanted before he died was for crozier to see him, all of him. even the parts he was afraid to tell anyone, even himself. and francis isn’t even granting him a mercy, he isn’t sparing his feelings. he truly and genuinely accepts james for who he is, how he came to be a part of the expedition. they have both known from the start that beginnings and heritage don’t matter, it’s the actions that people take that makes them who they are. in different ways they both knew that and i think it’s part of what aligned them eventually. and from the script- james realizes he can say anything to this man. it is possible. crozier gives him the space to do it. and just the way they’re laughing and joking and being light with each other- another thing we never would’ve seen in the earlier episodes. okay focusing on some details now- when crozier says “that’s not how i see you” james literally stumbles as if he can’t believe crozier would say that to him. in the beginning of the scene francis gives james space and privacy when he sees him getting emotional about graham and franklin’s deaths and struggling to remember the date of sir john’s death. they communicate with a single glance there, james asking for a moment and crozier giving it to him. the grief on francis’s face when james tells him his latest symptoms. when crozier initially tries to comfort and encourage james… and james can’t accept it because he hasn’t told him everything yet. he doesn’t know if he can. i don’t want to get personal but that feeling that if you only tell part of your hidden sorrow to someone and they comfort and accept you and show you kindness, that feeling you then get that no no no you don’t know the whole of it and if you did you wouldn’t be showing me this kindness, you wouldn’t love me, you wouldn’t respect me. you wouldn’t see me. i genuinely can’t imagine the relief that fitzjames felt when he told francis it all, he told him everything and all francis gave back was love. also we can finally start to really see the bruise that francis gave fitzjames in ep 5. i love when fitzjames literally and metaphorically closes the gap between them. and francis waits for him until he is by his side again. “are we brothers francis” the tears, the attempt to laugh/smile them away until he sees that crozier is with him in this moment and taking it as seriously as it deserves to be. again the joining of the hands, the one that crozier keeps. they look at each other’s mouths, into each other’s eyes, the way francis dips his head to look at fitzjames when fitzjames ducks his emotionally. it’s insanity

when they get back to camp and listen to hodgson’s story and then go to see jirv’s body, they exchange a lot of glances, specifically around the times that hodgson mentions hickey- they are of one mind on him and on how the situation actually played out. james also watches francis a lot in the scene where they go to see jirv’s body. he looks to him for leadership now and doesn’t become irritated by his anger or his candor. this really persists for the rest of the episode - in the scene where crozier is yelling at edward about supplementing the marines all james has to say is “francis” and then basically talks him down from yelling at edward more, another scene i don’t think could have ever happened between them earlier in the story but james knows how to quell francis now. and this is such an interesting parallel to ep 5 when everyone was taking their shit out on edward; this time fitzjames protects him. but anyway- james and francis are just so in sync in every scene in this episode- they back each other up, communicate through glances, emphasize each other’s words and authority. yay<3 

all right you’re all going to have to bear with me on ep 9 because it makes me crazy.

we gotta start with the fucking grief and pain in both of their expressions when they’re taking care of pocock and how this scene itself foreshadows the assisted suicide later

the look of absolute love and faith from fitzjames when crozier is telling them they will keep marching south and the “more than god loves them” scene- this is francis at his most captainly- and james is echoing his hollow vanity stricken words about franklin but really really meaning them about crozier- he says them to no one but himself, there is no performance here and crozier’s words aren’t a false display of empathy and care like franklin’s were for david young and fitzjames sees this. 

fitzjame and crozier are hauling in front side by side- it makes a point to mention that in the script too.

when fitzjames falls… ugh. he hauled until he couldn’t anymore, direct call back to when blanky said ross sat atop the sledges- oh and when francis and fitzjames were caring for pocock together vs ross having no sympathy for illness. when james falls he reaches for crozier without even looking at him at first and you can hear crozier saying “it’s all right, it’s all right” when james is saying he can’t stand the heat. dundy and bridgens are lifting fitzjames up too but when he stumbles, when he reveals his wound, when he stumbles again, he is only looking at crozier the whole time. and the look on crozier’s face is one i don’t think we’ve seen from him yet. i noticed too that he’s holding onto fitzjames with his left arm and rubbing his back with the other before he takes the rope off of him. 

i want to say about the following scene where james is laid up in the boat that i made a joke once to my friend about when crozier reaches into the boat and how it looks like they’re holding hands- but they actually are, it’s in the script. there’s just something about crozier’s face when he talks to fitzjames in later episodes, there’s such a softening of the edges to him, his expression is less guarded and more attentive and earnest. and the call back to their first scene together with the chinese sniper story…. the fucking fondness in both of their eyes as they laugh together, which was probably james’s last time laughing. when crozier says “there’s time” but that’s the tragedy of this show- there’s never enough time. everything happens too late.

james screaming in pain and crozier running to him and barely letting bridgens finish his sentence before he tells them to camp here also in the script during the officer’s meeting right after, they can hear fitzjames screaming in his tent :( i’m honestly kinda glad they left that out.

and here we are at THE fitzier scene. i could talk for hours about this scene. francis is holding james’s hand, rubbing his shoulder. james looks so young and frail and scared here and he uses some of his last words to tell francis he wanted him to live because he knew he wouldn’t be around to tell him that anymore soon. francis shaking his head when he says it as if to say “not without you”. in the script, when bridgens leaves it says ‘he looks at crozier. he looks at fitzjames. he understands”... and later during james’s funeral when crozier says that he had a service with james, just the two of them, peglar and bridgens exchange a very interesting, knowing look. to choose those two to react that way? idk man. fitzier real. but back to the scene- god okay crozier taps james’s chest twice in question and then just barely audible fitzjames says “please”. ugh the sad smile crozier gives fitzjames before he gives him the drug… then he places his hand, the one that crozier doesn’t lose, so gently and lovingly on james’s face, and even in his current state james looks almost taken aback at the gesture. when crozier tips the drug into his mouth his expression softens. i will never ever in my life forget the way james looks at crozier in that moment, the look of gratitude, love, farewell, of pain, longing, childlike fear. (nobody is doing it like tobias). crozier ever so lightly brushing james’s lips with both of his thumbs before he begins to massage it down and carefully wiping the excess away. they never stop looking at each other. dave k said that the service that crozier mentions happened before fitzjames dies and after crozier gives him the drug.

the last thing i want to say about the james death scene is that i was never that invested in the concept of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but fitzjames asking crozier to eat his body and live really really stuck in my brain- just their entire insane journey that i’ve been sitting here thinking about for months- acquaintances to enemies to allies to friends to lovers for it all to culminate in this final scene of fitzjames begging crozier to eat from his body and begging him to give him the final kiss of death all as crozier never once looks away or lets go of him. fitzjames loved him so much he was willing for crozier to desecrate his corpse if it meant francis would live, even without him next to him but crozier loved him so much that he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t add that act to his already impossibly devoted actions.

and the action of hiding james’s body because crozier doesn’t want tuunbaq to destroy it but then it turns out that someone at the very funeral ends up leading the mutineers to tear fitzjames’s body apart themselves. just like jirv not getting to keep the final gift of the seal meat even in death, crozier couldn’t do james this one last mercy even though he tried desperately to. 

and this last part is a bit of a stretch but okay-along with the shirt and the gloves of fitzjames’s that crozier is wearing after his death i think he might be wearing his little neck thing too, so sorry y’all i do not know what it’s called and i’m locked in trying to finish this and i’m not googling it lol. but we see fitzjames wear it a lot throughout the show and francis does sometimes but it’s very much a fitzjames piece so i think it might be his too. and with the funeral scene and the blanky scene, we see the mismatched gloves clearly for the first time but i’m pretty sure the first glimpse is earlier in the episode when they’re hauling before fitzjames collapses. dave k still confirmed they had switched gloves but it really seems that this happened before james died, likely when they left terror camp. i still contend that crozier and fitzjames both knew james was dying and this may have been why they did it. 

and on to the last episode and closing thoughts- in the last ep i was really keeping track of the gloves- he loses them at some point and i wanted to see when and it’s between the scene where he talks to hickey and when he’s chained back up in the tent with diggle. i hope he somehow hung on to them.

i will never forget how my stomach dropped out when i saw hickey wearing fitzjames’s boots on my first watch- the fucking sorrow in crozier’s face. he doesn’t understand the meaning just yet  but when goodsir is cleaning his wounds and tells him they ate gibson, you can see crozier put it together that that’s why hickey has fitzjames’s boots. his expression turns from shock and grief to rage.

hickey really clocked crozier with the shame comment and you can see how it triggers crozier. this is a great confirmation because it really pervades the story and fitzjames’s story as well. they are both driven by shame, by a need to prove themselves but go about it in completely different ways. fitzjames is all bravado, flowery empty words and boasting to cover his origins, his feelings of inadequacy. he aligns himself with the empire and with those in power and distances himself from anyone he knows will be deemed lesser than in the hierarchy in which he exists and specifically pits himself against someone like crozier in order to bolster his own social standing. crozier on the other hand is hardened to his station, he has no way to hide his nationality or his origins no matter how capable he is and how long he’s been going to sea. crozier feels the shame of things like sophia’s rejection and not having straights that they sail named after him but hides it with his bluntness and his lack of decorum when pointing out the truth of a situation. james has everything crozier wishes he did, but crozier is something that james wishes he could be- just himself, despite his societal ineptitudes and barriers. i believe that this basis and the way it melds and breaks down and comes to a way of understanding between them is why fitzier is so strong, and so real and so visceral, especially at the end. honestly there is so much more i could say but i think i’m going to leave it there and just saw that i hope crozier thinks of james from time to time in his new life. i find it hard to believe he doesn’t.

[sylver-star]

⭑.ᐟ

Your knees hits the concrete with a less than kind thud, as you finally let yourself breathe again. "Holy fuck!"

The feeling of being on the ground again - even if it was on top of a ten-story building - is freeing, almost euphoric. The rooftop is cold under your hands, but you don't mind. You take a few seconds to let your heartbeat calm down, before you shift to sit down so as to not bruise your knees even more. The man beside you looks at you... at least you think he's looking at you, it's hard to tell with the mask on.

"You just fucking saved my life," you tell him.

"... don't mention it."

He seems more awkward than before - to think that a guy could be more confident fighting off some sort of mutant monster than talking to you would be funny, but you're too shocked to laugh.

"Did you kill... that thing?" you ask.

"I think so-... listen, I have to get back out there. Will you be okay, Y/N?" He kneels down beside you to inspect your head for any signs of trauma.

You take his hands in yours. "You know my name?"

"What?"

"You just said my name."

"No, I didn't." The superhero scoffs.

"You did! How do you know my name? Do I know you?" You furrow your brows, as if you could look through his face-covering mask to uncover who he is.

He gets up, his face now covered in shadows. "You know... superhero things. No big deal."

"So, what? Are you saying you're like Santa Claus or something?"

He chuckles, and you swear that you recognize it for a second. Maybe you're still just reeling from the trip here. "I won't tell anyone if you know me."

"... I know." He sounds like he wants to explain himself, but he doesn't. "Let me take you home. I don't want you to wander into another fight."

He helps you up, his hands landing on your waist as you stumble. You thank him and, before you know it, you're swept off your feet - literally - and taken to the rooftop of your apartment.

The next morning, you're early to work for once. With the eventful night you had, you weren't able to sleep much - so you might as well head out early. As you approach your office building, you start to feel the tiredness settle in your bones. You stumble in through the door, only to be caught by a strong pair of arms. His hands are holding your waist oh so familiarly, you immediately look up to the man in front of you. It's Wonwoo from IT.

"Thank you." You breathe out and give him an awkward smile. "You saved me from making a fool of myself this early in the morning."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine! Just tired." You stand up on your own and brush off your clothes. "I got... held up on my way home last night."

He nods, and for a moment you swear that you see him smile. Maybe it's a trick of the light. He pushes up his glasses and looks away from you. His mannerisms seem so similar to you now that you think about it.

"Well, I hope you get better sleep tonight," he says. "And if you need someone to fall on today, just let me know."

The two of you chuckle, and you thank him. As you walk toward the elevator, you can't help but shake the feeling that you remember him from somewhere outside of work. You shake off the feeling as your tired brain making things up, it has to be the case.

⭑.ᐟ

a/n: this is sort of a demo to what I could make into a real fic. if this is something that people are interested in, I'll write a full fic about it - so please lmk if you'd want to see a full fic of this!

[eand47]

Troublemaker

ONE SHOT - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

DESCRIPTION: Modern AU | High School - smut, fluff, slight angst

SUMMARY: You are known around school as quite the rebellious girl, who makes more of her statements by wearing high knee stockings which are against the school dress code. He is the new guy in school who always sits on the back of the class and every time he puts his glasses on you find it him extremely adorable. The problem is that he doesn't seem to want to socialize with anyone and you don't know how to approach him until one lucky day you get to become his project partner.

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, explicit sexual content, NSFW, mentions of bullying, mentions of cannabis/weed, mentions of violence, mentions of death, lost of a parent, both characters as 19 years old, oral sex (f! receiving), nipple play (f! receiving), slight aggression, use of condom (as you should!!!), hints of depression, old-mindset and views teachers

WORD COUNT: 20,5K

✰ masterlist ✰

NOTE: Thank you all for your patience ♡ I hope you enjoy this little modern au story of high school Ace and Reader. I want to point out that I HAVE NEVER EVER BEFORE WRITTEN A SMUT so please keep this in mind once you reach this point of the story. It was my first time so please bear with me as it was cringe and very challenging to write at the same time, but anyway haha. I hope that it is not that bad. Enjoy ♡

another thing to add - this one shot is a special one for my girl @3rtxaa as if it wasn’t for one of her posts of how she images real life Ace, the idea of it would have never been born, ly girly ♡ ♡ ♡

!ALSO PLEASE IF SOMEONE KNOW WHO IS THE ARTIST BEHIND THIS FANART OF ACE IN THE BANNER LET ME KNOW SO I CAN CREDIT THEM!

Autum is just around the corner, and it is time to get back to school. You can’t wait for this school year to finish and be done with high school once and for all. It is not like you have had the worst experiences in the past four years, but you are ready for something new and mostly to leave the pretentious school your parents have signed you in. You are desperate for something new and exciting. Your town isn’t small, quite the opposite, but you still want to move and live somewhere else after you graduate this year.

Parking your car in the parking lot of your school you let out a long sigh. ‘Same faces, same cases’ you thought to yourself. Grabbing your big bag full of text and notebooks, which you must now leave in your locker, from the back seat of your car, you hopped off and shut the door. After locking the car, you start making your way to school. Pulling your skirt down as you feel it raising up, you sigh annoyed once again. You have always hated school uniforms, and how unfair it is that girls must always wear skirts and the boys pants like you are in the 60s. At least the colors of it aren’t so bad – a dark royal blue with a blazer in the same color and a white shirt under it. You are always wearing over the knee stockings under it and not a full set of stockings, which has caused you troubles a few times. Some old-school teachers found this quite inappropriate, and it goes against the school dress code, but this hasn’t stopped you from wearing them again and again.

The school is known for being one of the most prestigious in town. And while you can disagree with how true this is, your parents’ biggest pride is that their daughter gets to study there. Which you never get because they are very laid-back parents who support you and your rebellious nature. You have wanted to move to a different one many times, but you never voiced it as you don’t want to disappoint them. But now it doesn’t matter as all you need to do is push through the next nine months. Taking a step inside the old but well-maintained building you make your way to your locker. Putting the code in the padlock you have, you unlocked it and quickly emptied your heavy bag in it. Before you close it, you pull your phone to check what class you are having first so you can grab the textbook you need.

“Literature.” Someone says behind you. You recognize the voice immediately and turn around.

“Thank you, I would be lost without you.” You reply as you wrap your arms around your best friend Robin. Pulling away from the hug you grab your literature textbook and close your locker as you and Robin start walking towards your class. You have been friends since the beginning of high school, from the first day of school you two click immediately. Since then, you have been unseparated, she is like the sister you have never got to get. This was the first summer where you both didn’t have enough time because of work to hang out every day but it was worth it as now you have enough saved money to spend on whatever your heart desired.

“How are you doing today, excited for the last first day of high school?” She giggles as she sees you expression.

“You better help me get through this year, because if we don’t go to the same university, I’m offing myself.” You joke with her, even though there is a bit of truth in what you say. Even if you both want to study for different programs you have made an agreement that you will still be at the same university. You aren’t one of the most social people to begin with despite your bubbly nature, so being in a totally new environment without your best friend will be like a living hell for you.

“Of course you will get through it, you have me after all.” She smiles and nudges your side as you enter your literature class. There aren’t many people here yet, but your eyes draft to the back of the room. On the last single desk is sitting a guy who you have never seen before. You and Robin take your seats in the middle of the room next to each other. Turning your head back you take another look at the guy over your shoulder. With one hand on the desk and the other on the windowsill with his body leaning on the back of the chair and manspreading his legs he looks quite tall. His dark raven black hair with messy curls falling freely around his frowned face which is turned to the window so you can only observe his side profile. His nose is straight, and his lips are full and somehow so alluring to your attention. Another thing that catches your attention is his freckles which thanks to the lighting you are able to notice even though he is two rows behind you. Turning your head slowly to Robin, who is scrolling on her phone, you nudge her with your elbow.

“Hey, Rob. Who is this guy on the back of the class?” You lean closer to her and whisper so only she can hear you. She raises her head from her phone and looks at the back of the class, squinting her eyes so she can take a better look at the guy.

“No, idea. Maybe he is the new guy. I heard some people from our year talking about having a new classmate.” Robin turns back to you with a shrug.

“I didn’t know we are having a new classmate.”

“Me, too. I found out today when I came, so it must be him.” She says and turns her attention back to her phone. You can’t stop but take another look at him. His position hasn’t changed but the moment you look at him, his eyes move and lock with yours. His stare is pierced, your eyes widen from embarrassment and quickly look away. Even for the ten seconds that you were able to see his face, he was handsome. You can’t remember the last time when a guy has had your interest so quickly by just his looks, but this one seems to have this effect on you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the loud annoying laughter by no other but your least favorite person to exists in this school – Isuka. Rolling your eyes once you see her, you open your notebook and start drawing some doodles just so you don’t need to look at her. Taking her seat right next to you she brushes her ginger hair with the back of her hand and smirks.

“Hey, (Y/N). Robin.” She says and her dumb protégés – Lyla and Nora laugh along with her. You just side-eye her and say nothing. “I missed you, two. Especially you (Y/N), how were working as a lifeguard at the kid’s pool this summer? Did my daddy pay you good?” Isuka made fun of you in her typical arrogant tone with a fake smile on her face.

“He obviously didn’t pay good enough the nannies you had growing up.” You finally look at her and give her the same fake smile she is giving you. You have known Isuka since the start of high school and since day one she picked on you for whatever reason. It isn’t some kind of rivalry, sometimes her comments are pure bullying, but you have never let her affect you. The only time she almost got under your skin was when you caught her with your so-called ex-boyfriend making out by the pool at the graduation’s party a few months ago. You didn’t care so much about him and what he did as much as with whom he did it. But this is in the past now, you are more than glad that you don’t have to deal with this guy anymore, but still every time you think of it your blood boils only because of the disrespect this guy has caused you.

“Hm, be careful there, do I need to remind you who Derek choose?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she tries to irritate you more. Instead, you laugh out loud – does she really think that a guy like Derek is the prize?

“Isuka, if you think a guy like Derek is the goal, then I really pity you from the bottom of my heart.” You coo with face sympathy for her which leaves her mouth open. Robin starts giggling next to you. Isuka frowns with her eyebrows ready to say something, but the teacher comes in and the whole class goes silent. You haven’t noticed that everyone has arrived until now.

“You got her good this time.” Robin leans closer to you and whispers.

“I’m so sick and tired of this spoiled bitch.” You whine quietly only for Robin to hear you. She only nods with her head as the teacher starts to speak.

“As you all are aware, this year is the most important for you all, especially given the fact that one of your major exams is on English and literature. If I haven’t been strict enough with you till now, then this year will be totally different.” You can’t stop yourself from snorting and whispering to Robin while the teacher continues with her ‘welcome back’ speech.

“Yeah, it’s not like she has ever been nice to us at least once. Old wanna be Barbie.” Both you and Robin shared a quite laugher, but it is quickly interrupted by your teacher.

“Did I say something funny Miss (Y/L/N)?” The sixty something woman, with long thin blond hair and badly done makeup for her age looks stern at you as she waits for your response. “Care to share with the class?”

“I think I will keep this one for myself, Mrs. Kenet.” You half shrug with one shoulder while giving her a smile. The teacher only gives you a warning look before continuing.

“I don’t want to waste more time in meaningless talks so before we start, please the new student, stand up and introduce yourself.” Mrs. Kenet gestures to the guy in the back to stand and introduce himself with her face unpleased as always. Everyone turns their heads to the black-haired guy waiting for him to stand up. You are carefully observing him as he clears his throat and stands up.

“My name is Ace and I’m the new student, obviously.” His voice is low and raspy but still deep. Now as he stands up you are able to take a better look at him – his shirt isn’t properly tuck in his pants as the school demands and its sleeves are rolled which is another thing some teachers might complain about. Also, the tie that the guys are demanded to wear tightly around their necks is very loose which is going to cause him to receive a comment from our teacher immediately as she is one of the demanding ones. You move your eyes to where your teacher is standing, and you can see her already frowning over her book with all the students’ names in it.

“Mr. Portgas haven’t you read the schools guidebook about the dress code?” She asks as she shoots him with a very judgmental look.

“I did.” Ace replies, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging as he doesn’t see the problem with his outfit. In his eyes he has done everything as it says in the stupid seventy-page school guidelines book he received two weeks ago, and his mom made sure he reads it. He is wearing the stupid school uniform and the suffocating tie around his neck, what more this old hag wants from him.

“I will ask once Mr. Portgas – tuck your shirt, roll down your sleeves and fix your tie.” Mrs. Kenet straitens her posture and crosses her arms over her chest as she starts taping with her finger on her forearm waiting for Ace to do what he is told. He bites the insides of his cheeks and clenches his jaw as he tries to not cause himself problems from the first day and the first class in the new school. After all he has promised his mother that he would behave… as much as he can. Rolling his sleeves down and tucking the front of the shirt in his pants he keeps his eyes on the old hag which is now on his list with teachers he will not stand. Fixing the tie last, he gives her a ‘are you happy now’ look to which Mrs. Kenet nods and lets him sit back down. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her, Ace unintentionally looks at you and your eyes lock once again. Why are you staring at him again? Does he have something on his face?

He overheard your interaction with the bratty girl earlier and thought it was funny. Though, he can’t help but notice that you are somewhat troublemaker yourself. The interaction with the bratty girl and then the teacher, you are not one of the amenable ones. On top of it, you checking him out doesn’t go unnoticed either. But Ace is planning to stay out of trouble this year, mainly because he has promised his mother, who had to move to entirely new city just because her son got expelled from his previous school for bad behavior. Still, he can’t move his eyes from (Y/N), if he catches your name correctly. As last time, you are the one who breaks the eye contact first and turns your attention to whatever the teacher is talking about. His eyes stay on you a little longer and draft lower on your body. White knee stockings with a little bow on the side – this isn’t very ‘dress code’ friendly, you should definitely get scold for this. ‘Troublemaker’ he thinks to himself as he opens his notebook and starts writing whatever Mrs. Kenet is writing on the board.

Squinting his eyes to see better, Ace sighs as it is pointless to do so, so he pulls his glasses case from his backpack and places them on the bridge of his nose. He hates them but lenses irritate his eyes way too much, so he must suffer with the glasses. The class finishes in forty minutes so the moment the bell rings Ace is one of the first students to get up and leave. You are getting up from your chair when you feel someone bumping into you accidentally.

“Shit, sorry.” The deep low voice behind you says. You don’t have much time to react as Ace, if you remember correctly his name, is already leaving the room. You follow him with your eyes as he leaves the room – he is definitely something, but what exactly you can’t pinpoint yet. But he is cute, especially with glasses on. He doesn’t give off the nerd vibe but there is this thing about him that tells you he is the type which prefers to be by themselves.

“Easy there.” You hear a mocking voice behind you. You turn around to meet with Isuka’s insolent smile. “I saw you eyeing the new guy, but if you think you have a chance with a guy like him, I really pity you from the bottom of my heart.” She repeats the exact same words you’ve told her earlier. Instead of giving her the satisfaction of offending you in any type of way, you just eye her from the top to bottom and snort out laughter. This causes her to stomp with her foot on the floor like a toddler. You and Robin are grabbing your stuffs to leave the room when Isuka’s annoying voice fills up the space. “Mrs. Kenet, (Y/N) is wearing again unappropriated stockings to school.” Isuka points her finger at you. Mrs. Kenet’s voice echoes through the room as she calls out your name.

“Miss (Y/L/N), how many times you must be told that these revealing cloths are prohibited in school.” Her whole face frowns and gets red from anger. “Don’t you have any dignity for yourself, after all this is a prestige school not some strip club.” She screams in your face. You glance at Isuka who is passing by you with her entourage while giving you dirty looks. “Listen, when I’m talking to you Miss (Y/L/N).”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kenet, but in my defense, they are quite high and not revealing.” It is pointless to even try to defend yourself, as Mrs. Kenet won’t take your word for anything as she doesn’t like you in general; not only because you never listen and continue to wear your high knee stockings but because you always have something to say in your defense.

“I think you are begging for detention from the first day Miss (Y/L/N).” You are about to protest against her words when you feel Robin tugging you on the arm. Turning your head to her you see the way she is begging you to not get in trouble from the first day, so you just sigh. Lowering your head you murmured under your breath an apology. “I didn’t hear you Miss.”

“I said, I’m sorry and that I will go and change my stockings.”

“If I see you around the corridors today and you are still with these you will be staying after classes, you understand.” Her voice was stern and cold as aways.

“Yes, Mrs. Kenet I understand.” You reply and she lets you and Robin finally go as the bell for your next class rings. Walking as fast as possible, so you are not late for your next class, you are fuming. “This bitch Isuka if she didn’t say shit the old hag wasn’t going to notice anything.”

“I know, but also aren’t you tired of getting detentions for the same thing over and over again?” Robin is keeping your tempo as the biology classroom is on the other wing of the big school building so you two must cross almost half the school to reach it.

“Which side are you on?” You look at her with disbelief even though you know she has a point.

“Of course, yours. But getting detention every time about the same thing should ring some bell in your mind.” She giggles next to you as you make your way to the classroom. Walking in the room just a second before the second bell goes off to indicate that the class starts, the only desk available for you and Robin to take is the one in the front row. Both of you groan as you hate sitting in the front row, but you have no choice as your teacher walks into class and tells you to sit down. Before you sit down you see Isuka sitting next to the new guy, who seems pretty uninterested in the surroundings around him.

Ace notices you, looking in his direction before you sit down at your desk. He also notices the way your face grimaces when you and your friend realize you have to take the front row desk, but he does understand your reaction as he will never be caught sitting in any other row but the last. Ace is the loner guy in school as he never finds anyone interesting enough to hang around with in school. All the friends he has are either from his basketball club or friends he has from his childhood; with classmates he never gets along with, so after ninth grade he has stopped even trying to befriend anyone from his school. Now on top of it, as an even bigger punishment his mom has made him go to this snobby school, which if it isn’t for his high grades Ace would never have been accepted, especially with his record of bad behavior on school grounds. But they did and now he is stuck here. On top of it the bratty annoying girl sat down with him without even bothering to ask if she could or not. But it doesn’t matter now it is not like he is paying her any attention no matter how hard she tries, all her questions are either met with a hum or a nod from him. She should get the hint.

****

Before you know it the first last day of high school is finished and you and Robin made your way to your car. The weather is still nice and warm outside even with the typical Autum breeze.

“Any plans for tonight?” You ask Robin once you both enter your car. She shakes her head and yawns.

“No, I’m actually extremely tired I just want to go home and sleep until tomorrow morning.” She says while putting on her seatbelt on. You do the same as her before you start the car and drive to her home. “By the way, Isuka wasn’t the only one who noticed you checking out the new guy.” Robin’s playful voice gets you flushing as you try biting on your lips to stop the smile that is slowly growing on your face. “Oh, are you crushing on him?” Her voice rises a bit as she sees how you are trying your best to hide your smile.

“No, no Rob, nothing like this.” You shake your head with your eyes focusing on the road. “He is cute, but crushing is too much, I just saw him today and we haven’t even talked yet.”

“Yes, he is kind of cute.” Robin agrees with you, but you throw her a quick surprised glance.

“Kind of? He is super cute, especially when he put those glasses on.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you have a thing for nerds.” Your friend is quick to tease you.

“I doubt that he is a nerd, an outsider yes, but a nerd no.” You respond while parking in front of Robin’s house, she lives very close to school, so it usually takes no more than fifteen minutes’ drive or even less if there is no traffic.

“How did you come with the conclusion that he is an outsider?” Robin asks with surprise in her eyes as she barely paid any attention to the guy today.

“He didn’t spoke or try to interact with anyone today, and at the same time he didn’t seem to be the shy nervous type, you know?” You tell your observations of the guy to your friend, and she is more than impressed, this is not a typical behavior from you.

“Girl, when did you manage to observe this much of the guy?” Robin turns on her seat and waits for your response as she can’t believe what she is hearing.

“Oh, come on. I’m just very observative.” You try to brush it off, but Robin is not buying it.

“Sure, whatever you say.” She smirks and opens the door hopping off the car. “You know, now I’m quite interested in where this last year of high school will lead us.” Your friend raises playfully her eyebrows, and you laugh at her.

“Robin, I said he is cute, not that I’m interested in him.”

“Yet. Plus, I didn’t say anything about the guy, but you just did.” She winks at you as she closes the door without giving you the chance to response.

********

“Ma, I’m home.” Ace screams once he enters his home. Taking his shoes and jacket off he walks into the new apartment his mom rented when they moved to the new city. Ace hasn’t gotten used to the place yet, but it was because of him and his behavior as to why they had to move in first place.

“I’m in the kitchen, honey.” His mom calls for him from the kitchen which is also where they are having their dining aera as well. Entering the room Ace spots his mother next to the kitchen counter chopping some vegetables as something is boiling in the pot on the stove. When she sees her son entering the room her smile grows. “How was the first day? Please tell me you made some friends.” She looks at her son with pleading eyes as she knows how close off Ace likes to be and how he barely let anyone get close to him. “Also -” She points with the knife in her hands towards her cheek, indicating to her son to give her a kiss. Ace rolls his eyes but gives his mom a little peck on the cheek. “Now tell me about school.” His mom, Rouge encourages him. She is one of those people who is always with a smile on their face, her whole existence is screaming warmth and calmness. But this smile can easily go away the moment she enters ‘mama bear’ mode or when Ace really… really pisses her of which in the past two years since his father died, he has been doing more frequently than he intended to.

Taking a seat in one of the highchairs on the other side of the kitchen counter Ace just grunts with a shrug of his shoulders. Nothing interesting happened today. All he wants is for these nine months to go by as quickly as possible. Rouge snaps her fingers in front of her son’s face taking him out of his trance.  

“Nothing interesting mom. School, what else to say.” He grabs one of the uncut chili peppers and takes a bite of it.

“Oh, Ace. Come on, it’s a new school. Did you not meet anyone interesting? How are the teachers? Something.” His mom nags him. Sometimes she misses her son’s bright side. Not like Ace was very open with people when his dad was alive, but he was always energetic around his parents. Rouge knows how much his dad’s death affects her son, but she prays every day and night for the day when her boy will be back to his old bubbly self at least around her and his closes friends and family. Nowadays the best she is getting is five to six sentences from him and the rest is grunts and hums.

“Well, there is this old hag literature teacher that is pain in the ass, but other than this nothing, mom.” He grabs another chili pepper as they are his favorite. “What are you making tonight?”

“Chili beans and ground beef. And before you say anything I did buy with only ten percent fat, okay. I don’t want another lecture on proteins and fats.” She points with the knife in her hand at him warningly and jokingly. Ace snots out a laugh and shakes his head, reaching for another chili pepper but his mom slaps his hand away. “Stop, there will be nothing left if you continue eating them like apples. Now, tell me more about school, come on. Okay one bad teacher, you will survive her. How about the classmates?” She asks as she takes the cutting board with the veggies and walks to the stove where the pot is, adding them to it. Ace starts playing with his fingers as he props his elbows on the counter and thinks for a second about his classmates. The guys are mostly rich spoiled brats, and the girls are no different. Well, one catches his interest, but he doesn’t plan to share this part with his mom at all.

“Rich spoiled kids, ma. Is there anything more to be said?” He raises his brow at his mom who rolls her eyes at him.

“Stop acting like you are some poor ghetto guy.” Her late husband has made sure that there is enough for both her and their son to have a good and stable future before he passes away. They aren’t the richest out there, but with what Roger has left, just her job alone covers all their bills and needs, so all the money will go for Ace’s education in university.

“I’m not mom. I’m just stating the facts.” Seeing that his mom is in a good mood Ace decides to test his luck. “By the way… it would be very nice if I can have my car keys back… you know as it would be way easier to go to school.” His mom’s laughter fills up the space once she hears her son’s lame attempt to get his car back. After getting expelled from his old high school, Rouge has taken away his car keys as she knew that this would make her son behave at least until he gets them back.

“I told you, depends how you behave you might have them back in six months.” She leans with her hands on the countertop and smiles at her son. As much as he looks like her, he has his dad’s dark eyes and hair which make him the perfect mixture of them both. “But good try Ace, you still have like what four or three months left… if you behave.” Rouge reaches with her hand and ruffles Ace’s dark messy curls. Ace pulls his head away from his mother’s hand and gets up from the chair.

“When is this going to be done?” He points with his eyes towards the pot on the stove.

“Max an hour, I think.” The only response Rouge receives is a grunt from her son before he makes his way to his room. “Oh, Ace… what am I going to do with you?” It pains her heart to see him like this, but his destructive behavior needs to get under control.

Rogue still remembers the phone call from the police station she received one Tuesday afternoon. Not only had her son got into another fight on the school property but on top of it he had broken some classmate of his arm. But that wasn’t the reason Ace was locked up by the police. He was also high on weed at school, and when someone from his class called the police on him, they found two blunts in his wallet, so he got cuffed immediately. On top of it, the family of the kid wanted to start a case against Ace, but with a lot of pleading from Rouge side, she managed to convinced them not to open the case. Instead, Rouge paid for the kid’s expenses during his recovery. And with a lot of connections and Roger’s best friend, Reyleigh – Rogue succeeded to safe her son’s criminal and school record, but she wasn’t planning on letting him go easy from this situation.

The whole summer Ace was working on two jobs so he could pay back his mom’s expenses on lawyers, the medical bills on the guy’s arm he broke, and he had to go to evening classes every Monday and Thursday so he could graduate eleventh grade. Not only this, but every month since then, Rouge has been making Ace take a drug test. If she finds out one more time that he is taking anything drug related he will be out of the house even if it would hurt her more than him. She doesn’t want to see her son destroying his future.

Entering his room and closing the door behind him Ace starts to take off the annoying school uniform. Changing to more comfortable clothes he lays on his bed and just stares at the ceiling. He misses his old town and friends. Even there he hasn’t been the most social person, especially in school, but still he had his friends, while here he has none. He has his mom, but it is not the same. And this new pretentious school is killing him, and it only has been a day since he has started. But he will have to push it through, after all he doesn’t want to see his mom’s disappointed face ever again. He might be everything else, but Ace isn’t stupid, he knows that his behavior is not only hurting him but his mother too. Because of this he must fix his ways of living not only for his sake, but also for the sake of the people who care for him.

Without realizing it, his mind drifts to you – the girl with the white knee length stockings. He can’t deny that he finds you attractive, but he isn’t planning on messing around with any girls any time soon and especially one from his class. You are some kind of a rebel because all day he hasn’t seen another girl with knee stockings like yours, all the other girls are wearing normal ones that cover every inch of their legs. It is either this or you are desperate for male attention, but something is telling him that you aren’t the type to care who gives you attention and who doesn’t. But his first impression of you is clear – ‘troublemaker’ and he doesn’t need troubles right now.

After some time scrolling on his phone Ace hears his mom calling from the kitchen. He gets up and goes to see what the fuzz is about.

“What, ma?” He asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Please, put the plates on the table. The meal is done, it just needs to chill down a bit and I need to make a phone call.” She washes her hands and dries them on the towel hung on the kitchen cabinet under the sink. Ace just nods and starts preparing the table for him and his mom.

********

It has been almost two months since school has started again and it is killing you. All you want is to be done with this particular school, but just seven more months left. The subjects feel harder this year than the last and you usually don’t have any problem studying but this year is taking a tool on you, and you have barely started. Walking into biology class early in the morning knowing that Robin is sick at home today isn’t very pleasant. She always lets you know earlier when she is not coming to school due to sickness or whatever reason as she knows how much you hate being in classes without her. But today you decide to go anyway, as you have biology, literature and PE, which means you are having three classes with Ace, which means that today might not be so bad even without Robin next to you.

Your little attraction from day one turned into full crush almost a month ago. Which is funny because you and Ace have never spoken, but you can’t help but feel attracted to him. To be honest, Ace doesn’t speak with anyone, his voice can only be heard if the teachers ask him something or if they have something to tell him about the way his uniform is not worn right. The only thing that you are aware of so far that you have in common with him.

Walking into the room most of your classmates are already there. Scanning the room your eyes land on Ace. As always, he has his headphones on while having his hands on the desk, with one elbow raise and his head prop on the palm of his hand. Taking a deep breath in you start walking towards the desk in the middle of the middle row and sit there. With Robin being gone for the day, you are going to be sitting alone so you put your bag on the chair next to you. Taking your notebook and pen out you start fidgeting with the pen between your fingers waiting for your teacher to come.

Slightly turning your head to the side, you glance at Ace. His messy hair falling freely around his face as always and his glasses already placed on his face, he looks adorable. Yes, your crush so far is based only on his lucks, but the rare times you have heard him talk, he is smart and yes, he is also cocky, but not like the rest of the boys in your class. There is some kind of a charm in his cockiness. Just before he turns his head in your direction you look away quickly.

His lips twitch for a second as he has caught you staring at him again. Ace is used at this point with your staring. It even starts making him wonder if you have a crush on him or something. You are not very easy to read so Ace isn’t sure a hundred percent if he is right about it or not. Slowly he runs his eyes down on your body and licks his lower lip. You are quite bold today, not only are you with knee-length stockings again, but on top of it they are dark red mesh material, so he is able to take a very good look at your legs. Are you aware of what these things are doing to still teenage boys… to him?

Just when his imagination is about to start working on the things he wants to do in between your thighs while you wear these red stockings, he hears the most annoying voice to exist, even over his headphones being on max volume.

“Morning Ace, it’s always so nice to spend biology with you.” Isuka’s voice rings in his ear as annoying as his first alarm in the morning. Ace doesn’t even bother to look at her. Since the first day at school, she has been sitting with him every biology class. He has tried many things: putting his bag on the chair where she is supposed to sit hoping she gets the hint that she isn’t welcome sitting with him, then sitting at another desk just so leaves him alone but still no success. One time he made sure to be the first one in class just so he could hide the fucking chair but sadly someone got sick that day, so she sat with him again. Thankfully it is only biology he has to sit with her. The teacher finally walks in, and the class is starting so Ace takes off his headphones and puts them back in his backpack.

“Students.” Mr. Bellman clapped with his hands as a warm smile is placed on his face as aways. He is one of the few, to not say only teacher in this school that is actually nice and understanding towards his students. “Before the Christmas break next month you all will be divided into pairs and do a project together.”

“Are we paired with whoever we want or you are going to pair us?” Ask a classmate of yours.

“Thank you for the question, Mr. Dawson. In fact, I have written all your names on a piece of paper and put them in a bowl.” He pulls out two glass bowls filled with small pieces of paper. “Those of you sitting on the left will be the one picking a note with the names of your partner and on those of you sitting on the right will be picking from the bowl with the topic of your projects.” After he explains you groan and quickly move to sit on the left side. You don’t care what topic you will get if you will be lucky enough to get Robin’s name out of the bowl. “Everyone understands? Okay, perfect. I will come to you now first with the names.”

Your turn finally comes, and Robin’s name hasn’t been picked yet so hopefully you will get her. With a warm smile Mr. Bellman encourages you to pick a piece of paper, and you do. You start laughing as you unwrap it and see your own name written on it.

“Well, Mr. Bellman I guess I’m either doing it by myself or I can choose with whom to work with.” You joke with him to which he laughs but shakes his head.

“I know you are hoping to pick Miss Nico as your partner Miss (Y/L/N), but with risk for you to hate me, please take another note.” You click with your tongue when your teacher tells you this. Mr. Bellman has gotten to know you very well over the span of the four years he has been your teacher, and he knows that you and Robin always go as a pair. Putting your hand once again in the bowl you drag another piece of paper. Unwrapping the small piece of paper your heart skips a beat once you read the name. “Mr. Portgas D Ace, how nice.” The teacher announces loudly as he looks at Ace’s direction.

Hearing his name being called Ace raises his head from his notebook. He looks at where Mr. Bellman is standing, and he is right next to you. ‘Nice’ Ace thinks to himself. You aren’t a bad option for a project partner especially when it comes to biology, you are pretty good from what Ace has seen of you so far in class. He only nods with his head as the teacher wrote you down as partners.

You on the other hand don’t know how to process the fact that you will be working with Ace for the next one month. You know he is smart and surprisingly he is one of the top students in class, but even if he isn’t the smartest it wouldn’t have mattered as this isn’t why you are concerned. It is the fact that you have a stupid little crush on him and spending time with him outside school might cause your stupid little crush to grow. Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Bellman’s voice.

“Okay, everyone has a partner, right? Now is time to pick your topics, now remember those on the right are picking them.”

Going around the room again Mr. Bellman skips you this time as it is Ace turn to pick your topic as he is sitting on the right side of the desk. Reaching with his hand Ace picks a piece of paper and unwraps it. Clearing his throat before he speaks, he looks at you.

“Causes of Narcolepsy and Insomnia.” He says with his deep raspy voice. In response you nod as you have turned to face him when he was picking it. Turning back around you write it down on your notebook, so you don’t forget. Before you have turned around you see the nasty look Isuka is giving you, but you pay her no attention. You are aware of her own crush for Ace, but it is obvious that it isn’t mutual.

After everyone get their topics, Mr. Bellman starts to explain how the project can be made and as long as it is submitted by the second week of December it should be fine for everyone. The class finishes on time and everyone starts to gather their stuffs. It takes you a moment to start putting your stuffs back as now you must speak to Ace no matter what. But by the time you turn around to see if he is still in the classroom he is nowhere to be found. With a sigh you get up and start making your way to your locker to grab your physics textbook and then make your way to the classroom. You won’t be seeing Ace until after lunch when you have your literature class and then PE, which means you have enough time to think of how to approach him. Or he might approach you, after all it is not only your project.

****

Lunch break comes and you made your way fast to your locker again. Deciding to skip on lunch today you grab your literature books and head straight to the classroom. You are the first one there as everyone is out for lunch now. Taking your usual seat in the middle row you pull out your phone and start texting Robin.

‘Rob.... I have a good and bad news...’

‘If it is about the biology project I already know as Nora has already texted me about it... so I suppose this is the bad news... now tell me the good’ She is quick with her reply. Not only this but you just realise that you have totally forgotten to pay attention to who got Robin’s name. Poor Robin, she must work with one of Isuka’s annoying friends for the project.

‘Girl I’m so sorry... yeah about the good news... guess who is my project partner :3’

‘No way :O ... is it Portgas?’ Of course, Robin gets it right from the first guess. You happily squeak and tap with your feet excitedly on the floor.

‘YES ROB IT IS HIM IN FACT CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?’

‘If I knew that the only day of me missing school would lead to this I would have gotten sick earlier xD have you two spoken about it?’

‘Not yet, but I have the next two classes with him as you know... so I plan to speak with him about it.’ You have already come with a plan, and it is super simple – he walks into the room, sits on his desk and you go speak with him, how hard it would be?

Well, it appears to be harder than you have expectedas he is late for class, but he comes eventually. After being scold from Mrs. Kenets he goes and sit on his usual spot – the last desk next to the window. After the class is done you miss your chance again as he is the first one to leave. But it is okay, you still have PE together you can speak with him then.

You aren’t very surprised when you can’t catch him to speak with during PE, too. It is the only class where he kind of interacts with people and it is the guys who he interacts with only when they play basketball. He plays very well, you have observed him many times, but you are not surprised after all he is tall, and he obviously works out, so this only adds to his looks. You even have a theory that he might be practicing basketball outside school, but you are not a hundred percent sure about this. You on the other hand try to join the girls and some of the guys who are playing volleyball, but it gets boring quickly.

Now you are just sitting on the benches, with your elbows on your knees and your head prop the palms of your hands, observing Ace and waiting for the perfect moment to speak with him about your project.

“Staring to much aren’t we?” Taking a deep breath in, you side-glanced the person who just sits next to you.

“What do you want Isuka?” You turn your head to the side to look at her with blank stare.

“I want to change partners for the project.” She crosses her arms across her chest and her tone from mocking turns to demanding. A makeshift puff of laugher escapes your lips as you look at her in disbelief.

“You heard Mr. Bellman we can’t do this, and I won’t do this for you especially.” It is not because Ace is your project partner, it actually doesn’t matter who it would have been, you will never do a favour for Isuka. Ever.

“You can have your friend Robin, and I get Ace what a better deal than this?” She continues to nag.

 “You are not even the one paired with her, the fuck is you on about? And I told you I’m not changing partners for your pleasure especially.” You turn your head back to where the boys are playing basketball.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” Isuka hisses and pulls you by the hand causing you to look at her.

“Touch me one more time and I will sweep the floor with your hair.” You snap at her as you stand up. Verbally she can say whatever you never really care, but this right now is crossing any lines.

“Calm down loser you don’t want to get in trouble.” She also gets up and now you are on the same level facing each other. “Ace also wants to change so we can be together.”

“Do you even believe yourself when you said this out loud?” You snort and turn around to walk away. You can hear Isuka walking after you, but you chose to ignore her.

Passing by the guys playing basketball you don’t see Isuka going to one of them – Jack, the popular rich and extremely arrogant jerk in school. She whispers something in his ear and his arrogant laugher fills up the space. The guys have stopped the game as he is the one holding the ball and waiting for him to get back to it. Ace is standing with arms crossed across his chest while carefully observing the scene just a few steps away from them.

He saw you passing by a little annoyed by Isuka, who was following after you. Her bullying, if he can call it this, towards you haven’t been unnoticed by him, but it is always her put back on her place by you. Maybe this is the case again. But it isn’t. Just as Jack is raising his hand ready to aim at you, with his arrogant smile on while his face is turned to Isuka’s, it takes Ace three stapes to get to Jack and take the ball away from his hands.

“The fuck man?” Jack turns to him with disbelief in his eyes. “I was just about to have some fun.” He came closer to Ace bumping his chest with his, to which Ace snorts as he puts the ball between them keeping Jack’s body away from his. They are almost the same high, but Ace is still slightly taller than him.

“Since when hitting girls is considered fun Jack?” Ace raises one brow at him waiting for his response.

“Didn’t know you can talk this much Portgas?” Jack mockingly says to which Ace only replies with an arrogant smirk. After all Jack isn’t the only one who thinks he can act all cocky and mighty.

“I usually don’t waste my time speaking with people like you.” This struck a nerve in Jack as he hears Ace says this and goes to pinch him, but Ace is quick to dodge it. The teacher is quick to see what is going on and runs to the boys screaming at them. Taking a step back Ace laughs at Jack’s face. “Try faster next time, Jack.” With that he ignores the teacher who is trying to scold the boys but none of them is listening to them. Before heading to the changing rooms Ace gives Isuka a disgraceful look. It is clear to Ace that she has talked Jack into doing this, which is very low even for her.

You on the other hand have missed the entire show. Now as you have changed back to your school uniform and adjusting the straps holding your red stockings you curse yourself as you accidently made a hole on the side of the left stocking. Remembering that you have a clear nail polish in your locker you grab your bag and leave the changing rooms.

Standing in front of your locker and opening it you also put back some of the notebooks and textbooks you are carrying with yourself during the day. Most of the students are already leaving as the last bell of the day has rung like five minutes ago. As you are about to close your locker you haven’t paid attention to your surrounding, someone has leaned on by the lockers next to you, so when you hear their voice, you get startled.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. (Y/N), right?” Turning around you are met with no other but Ace. With your eyes widen you swallow hard as you nod. “So, we are project partners now.” He says and you nod again.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, I was trying to get a hold of you the whole day.” You chuckle and try to straiten your posture. You open and close your mouth as you aren’t sure exactly what to say and Ace isn’t very helpful as he doesn’t say much himself. “Like... you know... I was wondering things like when should we start, where should we meet... you know ha-ha... project things.” You grab on your left elbow with your right hand as you try very hard to hide the fact how nervous you are around him.

Putting his hands in his pockets Ace can see how nervous you got out of nowhere. He swears this isn’t the same confident girl he has observed around school. But then again, he has seen you only with your black-haired friend which he always forgets the name of. Maybe you are only confident and bubbly only around people you know and that is why you only hang up with her.

“Which day after school works with you? The sooner we start the better.” Ace says and you nod agreeing with him.

“Any day works with me honestly.” You give him a small smile and wait for his response as he seems to think about when it will be best for him.

“How about Friday?”

“Sure, Friday works fine with me as well. Should we go to the library?”

“Yea, the library is fine. Then see you on Friday.” With this he pushes himself of the lockers and walks away. He isn’t arrogant, but he isn’t very friendly as well, so you are starting to worry how smoothly this project will go. But now that you have seen him up so close, you are totally sweep off your feet. This boy is unbelievably handsome.

‘Please, don’t have a girlfriend.’ You think to yourself, a thought that has crossed your mind million of times now. You have tried everything, but you can’t find him on any social media and as he doesn’t speak to anyone in school you have no idea if Ace is single or not. All you can do is prey that he is single, because boy your heart will be broken if he is taken and extremely jealous of his girlfriend.

*****

Friday comes fast and before you know it you are done with your classes for the day. You will be lying if you say that you are not nervous and excited at the same time now that you are about to spend the next few hours working with Ace on the project. On the other hand, Robin hasn’t stopped messing with you today as you have put extra effort in the way you look today. With your makeup and hair done nicely and your uniform being precisely ironed like never before, paired with dark blue knee stockings matching your uniform you looked gorgeous today. Even Robin herself commented how you will make him crush on you a hundred percent after your study session.

“Okay, how do I look? How do I smell?” You have dragged your best friend in the bathroom with you as you want to make sure that you are a hundred percent looking your best.

“Oh my God, (Y/N). Calm down, he is just a guy.” Robin is still in disbelief in the way you are acting when it comes to Ace. Sure, he is cute, even if he isn’t her type she doesn’t deny that the guy is good looking, but you have never been like this over a guy before.

“I know, I know.” You say in a desperate tone. Yes, you are super attracted to him and his looks but expect from this you don’t know anything about him, and you are hoping that with this project you will be able to get to know him. “I... I just want to... how to say it Rob... if he finds me somehow attractive then, of course only if he is single, maybe he might be up for a date or something.” Lowering your head and looking at your sneakers you feel Robin wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a hug.

“(Y/N), if this guy is not on his knees for you after today, then he needs to change his glasses.” You both laugh as you pull away from the hug. “Okay now show me which lip glosses you have taken with you?” You eagerly pull out the two lip glosses you have taken with you in the morning as you can’t decide which one will look better. Taking a good look at them, Robin points with her finger to the cherry coloured one. “I think this will make your lips pop more.”

“Thank you. I was also thinking of the cherry one.” You put the other one back in your bag and start applying the cherry one on your lips. Smacking your lips once you are done you turn to Robin. “What do you think?”

“I think that I’m jealous of Portgas.” Hearing her comment you burst of laughing.

 “Uh, I love you, Robin. You are the best friend I could have ever ask for.” You pull her for another hug, but she taps you on the shoulders to let go.

“Come on, he is probably waiting for you. And don’t forget to call me once you are done.”

****

Ace has been sitting on one of the old desks in the library for the past fifteen minutes now. He should have asked for your number. What if you can’t make it today? He has seen you around school earlier today, but still. Or what if you are here but can’t find him? He is definitely getting your number today. Not for any other reason, just so he can have some kind of contact with you while you do the project together.

“Hey, sorry for being late.” His eyes immediately shot at you as you stand on the side of the desk next to him. You smile at him as you pull the chair to sit. “Don’t tell me you have been waiting for me for a long time?” Your eyes are filled with guild and Ace is just staring.

‘Shit, she looks even prettier today.’ He can’t help but think to himself. Ace can’t deny that he has found you attractive since day one, but he hasn’t been in a relationship ever. Which is strange that the thoughts of relationship are crossing his mind since he doesn’t want one. He does have his fair share with girls from time to time but nothing more. Not only this but whatever you have put on your lips today are making them even more plump and desirable. If he can just pull you closer and kiss you right now he would. Calling him out by his name you take him out of his trance.

“Sorry? What were you saying?” He clears his throat as his voice comes out a little bit raspier then usual.

“I asked if you waited for me for too long?” You let a small giggle at his confused expression. To your surprise Ace let out a little chuckle himself. This is the first time ever you hear any form of laugher from him and you swear something bloomed in your stomach.

“Nah, I didn’t. Actually, you need to give me your number, so we have some kind of communication through out the project.” Your eagerly nod as you see him pulling his phone and handing it to you so you can put your number in. You quickly type it with your name as well and give back the phone to him. “Nice, thanks.” He says and puts the phone back in his back pocket.

“How do we start now? I see you have taken some books already.” You reach and take one of the books and observe it. It is about neurobiology, which your topic for ‘Causes of Narcolepsy and Insomnia’ is based on.

“Yea, well we can do bigger research on insomnia as I have a narcolepsy myself so you can leave all that part to me.” He runs his hand on the nape of his neck a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, no please. I want the work to be equal for both of us.” You are quick to protest and surprise to hear that he has narcolepsy himself, he hasn’t showed any signs in school, but again from sharing just three classes together you don’t know much about him. “Also, I didn’t know you have narcolepsy. I know it is not easy living with one as my little cousin also has it.” You smile at him as you understand a bit how he must feel dealing with this on the daily basis.

Raising his brows in surprise as he hasn’t met anyone so far in his life who has it or have a person close to them struggling with it, Ace is a little taken aback and not sure how to response to this.

“Ya, it does sucks sometimes.” Is all he manages to response with. “In that case should we get to work?” With a nod from you, you both start to discuss how you can manage your project and the topics for it.

Time goes by fast and before you know it, it has already been two hours. During those two hours it is mostly you who breaks the silence with suggesting ideas or double checking with him if you should include a certain information in. Deciding to take a quick break from gathering information and writing it down, you decide to be bold and ask him more personal questions in the meantime, if you can call them this, so you can get to know him a little.

“So, um Ace...” You start unsure if he wants to talk or not, but when he hums and looks at you in response so you take this as a yes – he might be up for a small talk after all. “What made you choose this school?”

Unsure how to response to this question without mentioning that he has been expelled from his previous high school he gives you the most logical answer ever.

“My mom, you?” Short and clear as ever, but at least he asks you as well.

“My parents.” You roll your eyes, if it isn’t for them you would want to attend another not so strict and pretensions school.

“Why the eyeroll?” He takes his glasses of and puts them on the side. The switch in his charm with and without them is indescribable – with them on he gives this persona of a little introvert and unbothered guy, who is also extremely adorable; without them he gives and has the vide of the cocky cool guy with a bad boy vibe who with just one look will get you on your knees. Shaking you head of you try to focus yourself back into the small conversation.

“I don’t know if you have noticed but this school is quite pretentious.” You whisper like there are many people around you, moving your eyes side to side pointing out your surroundings. A puff of makeshift laugher escapes Ace’s lips as he nods his head.

“Yea, same. Can’t stand this place and its rules.” He leans on the back of the chair and loosen up the tie around his neck.

“Tell me about it, I already had three detentions.” You huff. Rasing one of his brows questionably to why and how you have gotten detention, three times on top of it. Even he hasn’t gotten one, yet. “Because of the stockings.” You scrunch your face with a smile and Ace chuckles at you.

“Why don’t you just wear the same ones as the other girls?” No matter how cool Ace wants to play it, this question has been on his mind for a long time. It is only you in the whole school who allows herself to wear something that is considered inappropriate.

“I really hate stockings, I don’t even like these ones, but God I would rather get detention than getting to the principal’s office ever again.” Your whole body shivers from the memories of it.

“What they send you to the principal just because of some socks?” Ace snort, he can’t believe how ridicules this school’s rules are.

“No, I was sent to him because I came to school without any – just me and my bare legs, and in my defence, it was the end of May and outside was almost thirty degrees.”  

“Oh, fuck this school.” Ace laughs in disbelief as he runs both of his hands through his hair messing it even more.

“There is more to the story.” You say and he looks at you like you are kidding. “Don’t look at me like this, I’m not joking. They called my parents and bear with me now – they had to listen to the principle going on and on about how unappropriated their daughter behaviour is because of this, and how she is promoting sexual behaviour in the school’s property dressed like that.”

“What a troublemaker you are (Y/N).” Ace clicks with his tongue as he laughs once he hears your story.

“The biggest one, don’t forget.” You point with your finger at him correcting his mistake as he raises his hands in the air like you have pointed a gun at him.

“How did your parents react?”

“They are super cool. I wasn’t grounded or anything like it, but they begged me only to never come to school again with bare legs.” Both of you share a light laughter before silence takes over you. “Should we continue?” You are the one to break it once again.

“Nah, I think we did enough for today. What are your plans next Wednesday after school, we can meet again?” Your eyes widen from excitement as you eagerly, too eagerly for your liking nod your head. “Cool, then until next Wednesday.” He says as he gets up and takes his stuff. “Troublemaker.” He chuckles at you over his shoulders and leaves.

****

Wednesday turns to next Friday, and next Friday turns to see you again on Monday and for the next three weeks you and Ace are meeting at least two times per week to work on your project even thought you do twenty percent working and the rest is you two talking and getting to know each other. To your surprise Ace is quite talkative when he wants to be. The more time you two spend together the more you get to know him, and the more is your crush on him growing.

One time you gain the courage and very subtilty you asked if he has a girlfriend to which he answered no, and you felt like all the powers, gods and goddesses, whatever is out there was with you that day. Not only that he is handsome with amazing personality, but he is also single. The two things you must be careful about now are: one trying to not get in the friendzone and two if he likes you – you don’t want it to be just sex, you want it to be more than this.

During school, every time you bump at each other in the hallways you are always greeting him, and he always nods at you or mumbles hello back. Of course, this got you a few unpleasant stares from a few girls around school. One time at literature class when he was the one to stop by your desk and talk with you, you noticed Isuka choking on her water and if it was possible in real life, she was going to have steam of smoke coming out of her ears out of jealousy.

The only sad part of it all is that you two are pretty much done with your project, only a few more details are left but it won’t take you more than two hours to finish it. As you are laying on your bed with your notebooks spread across on it, your phone vibrates. You grab it and your eyes sparkle with excitement once you see who the message is from.

‘Tomorrow same place at the same time?’

‘Of course ^.^’

Not wasting even a second later you dial Robins number. The moment she does you are quick to speak.

“Should I tell him that I like him?” You blurt out.

“If you feel like it – yes.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me back? That way things will be awkward till the rest of the year, and I don’t want it to be this way.” You bite on the cuticle of your nails as you stand up from your bed and start to walk back and forth in your room.

“I think he does.” Robin says with a reassuring voice over the phone.

“I think you are feeding my delusions.”

“Girl, calm down. From what you’ve told me and I’ve seen from you interacting I think he might be into you as well, plus you’ve said he that he is a pretty chill guy, so even if he doesn’t, I’m sure that it won’t be very awkward after it.” She starts to laugh as she can only imagine you going around in a circle around your room, and she isn’t wrong.

“You are right, after all the worst he can say is what? That he is not into me and… and…” Your mind goes spiraling with thoughts of what could be the worst thing Ace might say to cut you off.

“And the world will keep spinning now calm down and worry tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, you are right. See you tomorrow, Rob.”

“See you tomorrow… troublemaker.” She laughs and cuts the line immediately knowing how to tease you. You have mentioned to her how from time-to-time Ace calls you ‘troublemaker’.  Falling on your back on your bed you just stare at the ceiling – what is the worst that can happen tomorrow?

****

Walking home after his basketball practice, Ace can’t help but think of you. In the past three weeks you two have been talking a lot. He enjoys it more than he wants to admit to himself. On top of it, your beauty is like a bonus to your personality – not only you are smart and funny, but you are also mischievous and spontaneous. And he likes this about you a lot. You are the type of person who is down for anything, especially judging by the stories you have told him about yourself. You are also quite charming and cute when you have this sparkle of mischief in your eyes. Yes, you are a troublemaker, but not the type who looks for troubles on purpose, it is more like a rebellious troublemaker. You will stand behind your words and believes no matter what and not only does he finds this extremely attractive but he also respects it.

Unlocking the front door of his home and walking in he is greeted by the voice of his mom. Entering the living room, he sees her sitting on the couch drinking tea, as her long ginger hair is falling freely on her back and shoulders.

“How was practice, honey?” She asks with a big smile on her face as she takes a sip of her tea and then place it on the coffee table.

“Ma, stop calling me pet names like this.” He grunts as he takes a seat on the couch next to her with one arm prop at the back of the sofa. “And it went good and very, very tiring. We ran a lot today.” Ace tells her as he is stretching his legs with a hiss from the soreness.

“I can definitely smell this.” She replies sarcastically as she punches her nose and waves her hand at her face messing around with her son.

“Oh, shut up mom. I showered there and I will go shower again in a minute.” Ace laughs and moves closer to her as he raises his hands in the air making his mom fake a gag from her son’s sweat.

“You are the same pain in the ass as your dad.” She raises her voice acting like she is irritated but in fact she is not, she is having quite the fun with her son right now. Poking him on the sides where she knows that he is ticklish, she laughs when he groans and gets up from the couch.

“Well, I don’t come from the neighbor. You choose my dad not me.” He jokes with her as he reaches and takes her tea mug and chugs it down.

“Did you just drink all my tea?” Rouge’s eyes widen as she sees the smug smirk placed on her son’s face.

“Your stinky son is thirsty, sorry ma.” Ace lets out a boyish laugh as she reaches to playfully smack his forearm but misses. Grabbing his gym back from the floor he makes his way to the bathroom but before this he stops at the door and looks at his mom. “Mom, do I really stink?”

“No, Ace you don’t. I’m just messing with you.” She looks at her son lovingly as he nods his head. Sometimes he is such a dork, especially recently. But Rouge doesn’t mind it. In the past almost two weeks and so her son is somehow more talkative, more open. Something he hasn’t been in a long time, and something is telling Rouge that there is a girl involved in this, and she can’t wait to tease her son about it, but not now. For now, she is just enjoying having a little bit of her son’s old self back. But once she has the opportunity, she will definitely tease him about it, especially after he has mentioned briefly that he is doing a project for biology class with a girl and Ace never talks about girls of any kind with his mom.

After taking a shower and going to his room Ace grabs his phone as he sits on his bed and texts you. Tomorrow you are finishing your project and as much as he wants to be done with it, he is not that excited to be done with your little meetings after school. But you might continue to spend time with each other from time to time, after all you have a few shared classes together.

His thoughts are interrupted by his phone vibrating with a message from you as a little smile twitch on his lips. Laying on his bare back on the bed he looks up at the ceiling with thoughts filled with you. Maybe he does have a little crush on you, but this is not what he needs right now. After all you are a troublemaker, and it seems like troubles love to follow him.

****

Walking into school Ace feels a little weird today as a lot of people are staring weirdly at him. Usually, he doesn’t pay attention to people staring at him, but it is something in their eyes that it is like a judgment. He makes his way into the school sport hall as his first class for the day is PE. Leaving his gym bag in one of the lockers in the changing room as he came to school with his gym clothes, Ace made his way to the sport field. Entering the closed space field, he notices everyone staring and whispering in his direction. ‘What the fuck?’ he thinks to himself.

“Portgas.” He hears his name being called by no one but Jack himself. “Do you carry a blunt or two with yourself or we should call the police in case you lie.” Jack screams across the field and everyone laughs.

You and Robin have just entered the sport hall from the back entrance and are still dressed in your uniforms as you have some time before the class starts to change to your gym clothes. What confuses you both is seeing everyone laughing.

“Hey, Vanessa.” You call one of the girls with whom you speak from time to time in class. “Why is everyone laughing.”

“Oh my God, girls you must see this.” She says and pulls her phone up playing a video. The video is of a guy who is being held by the police as he is curing loudly and fighting them as they try to cuff him. “Jack sent this to the entire class, and well half of the school as well.”

“(Y/N) is this Ace?” Robin looks at you with frown brows. You are about to call her out but then you see the face of the guy, it is Ace. What is going on? Looking up from the phone screen you see Ace and the rest of the class laughing at him. Without giving it a second thought you run to him. You hear Robin calling after you, but you pay her no mind.

“Ace.” You call out once you are close enough to him. He just side glance you and doesn’t say anything. “I… um… there is this video going around… you getting cuffed by the police… are… are you okay Ace?”

“Do you know who spread it?” He asks you in a calm voice. Too calm for your liking.

“Vanessa told me that Jack sent it to half the school.” You quietly reply.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He says without looking at you and starts to make his way towards Jack with his fists clenched. Realizing what he is planning to do you are quick to stand in front of him and stop him by placing your hands on his chest.

“Ace don’t.” You give him a pleading look.

“Yes, Ace don’t. Listen to your little girlfriend.” Jack calls out loudly again but this time with mocking voice of a little girl. Laughter fills again the whole sport hall. Clenching his jaw tight Ace pushes off your hands and starts to make his way towards Jack again but you are not going to let this happen.

“Ace, please listen to me for just a second.” You stand in front of him again.

“Fuck off, (Y/N). This is between me and this motherfucker.” He snaps at you as he moves to the side but so do you as you aren’t letting him take another step.

“I know, but this is what he wants and Ace this won’t end with detention.” You know better than him how this school’s rules work. Especially when it comes to students like Jack with rich parents. Ace is going to be out the second he lays his hands on him. “As much as I want to see Jack’s face being punched, I don’t want you to get kicked out for a such thing.” After saying this Ace finally looks at you. his eyes and his whole face full of rage.

“Damn you (Y/N) and this whole school.” He spats at you before turning back and storming off the sport hall.

“Won’t you run after you boyfriend (Y/N)?” Jack says again with a mocking voice. Turning in his direction you just smile at him and start walking towards him. “You know if your attitude wasn’t so unpleasant you would make a very good girlfriend with a face like yours.” He smirks as you stand in front of him. Smiling at him and before he has the time to react, you spit in his face and walk away to find Ace. “You little bitch. Wait until I catch you.” Jack screams full of rage after you as his buddies gather around him trying to hold him still as he wants to run after you.

“(Y/N) you animal.” Isuka screams after you but you just raise your hand and show her the middle finger. Before you leave the sport hall Robin catches up with you.

“Girl, this will cause you some trouble you know?” She walks along you as you are looking everywhere trying to find Ace.

“I will worry about this later. I need to find Ace.”

“Oh my, you are a lost case. Do you really like him this much? Is he really worth the trouble?” She stops you by holding you by the shoulder and you look at her seriously.

“Yes, Robin. I do like him this much, and he is worth the trouble. Now please let me go so I can look for him.” Inhaling and exhaling deep she lets go of your arm.

“I can help you at least.” She pleads but you shake your head.

“Thank you, but I think it’s better it I do it alone.” Before you run away you look at her. “By the way will you cover for me for the rest of the day?”

“You don’t even need to ask me this.” Shaking her head with a smile she sends you off to look for Ace.

You look everywhere – the school hallways in both wings in all three floors, the cafeteria, the main floor by the entrance and now you are making your way to the library. For the almost four weeks you have spent together and the three months since school started you are a hundred percent sure that whatever the reason behind why he has been arrested isn’t something that will change your opinion about him. You know a little bit more about Ace now and one thing he is not is being a bad person. From what you have seen in the video it had happened in a school property and the best they can arrest you for is if you have been with drugs to school. Ace doesn’t seem like the guy who does hard drugs so you are a hundred percent sure that it might have been for weed. But even if it is for something more serious you don’t care much because you trust your intuition, which tells you that he has a valid reason and explanation to the story behind the video.

As you run towards the library you spot him walking out of the school. The moment you take a step to turn in his direction you feel a drop of rain on your face. ‘Grate now all we need is rain.’ You think to yourself as you fasten your pace to catch up with him.

“Ace, please wait.” You call after him to which he looks over his shoulder with still anger written all over his face.

“Go back to school (Y/N).” His voice is still harsh but not as much as when he has told you to fuck off in the sport hall.

“I can’t go back to school. Please, it’s about to be pouring rain. I-I can drive you home or whenever you are goi-” Ace turns to you with an angry expression – his brows drew together with his jaw clenched. He opens his mouth to say something and in this exact moment rain stars to fall from the sky like crazy. Both of you get soaked in a matter of seconds – him with his long sleeve compress black t-shirt and basketball shorts and you in your now soaked school uniform.

“Go back to school (Y/N) and just continue with your day.” He rolls his eyes and turns around as he starts to walk away from you.

“Ace, I can’t go back to school and continue with my day because... I... well I did something...” This makes Ace stop his track and looks at you. As if he couldn’t look even more hotter than before now with all his clothes soaked from the rain and his black hair wet from it you could faint from the sight of him on the spot.

“What did you do (Y/N)?” His voice got even deeper. Ace is standing and watching you looking at your feet and arms behind your back just like a little kid who has done a mischief and now is guilty about it. Not only this but your white shirt is now stuck to your body from the rain Ace can clearly see the bright red bra under it, which is matching with the stockings you are wearing today, making it very hard for him to focus on just your face alone. Lifting your head and giving him big doe eyes look, with your mascara smudged a bit from the rain, anger isn’t the only thing he is feeling right now.

“I-I spat Jack in the face.” You look away now ashamed of what you have done even if he deserved it.  

“You what?” Ace takes a step towards you. He can’t believe you have done this and the trouble you will get into for it. “Why did you do this?” His mind is running wild. Why would you do such thing? You won’t be getting away with just a detention after school.

“Because he tried to make fun of you.” Wrapping your arms around yourself you tired to shield from the cold rain and his pierced gaze.

“I can stand form myself (Y/N), I don’t need some girl to do it for me. Thank you, now everyone thinks I’m a coward and a pussy on top of it.” Running his hands over his wet locks Ace shuts his eyes and tries to take some deep breaths.

“A-Ace I-I didn’t mean to cause you harm. I-I just... I-I wasn’t thinking... I-”

“Just shut up.” Opening his eyes and seeing how your own eyes are filled with guilt and shame he curses himself. “I’m mad right now, okay? I don’t want to be an ass toward you, but damn it, why you are such a troublemaker all the damn time.” This isn’t a question, this is a statement. Why are you going headfirst aways? Why did you even go to such extreme just because some asshole tied to get on his nerves. Seeing how you are shivering from the cold Ace exhales deeply and grabs you by the arm firmly but also gentle at the same time. “Where is your car?” He asks you as you start walking towards the parking lot.

“There is the little red one.” You point with your finger towards the small Toyota Aygo parked in the middle of the parking.

“What is with your obsession with the red colour?” Ace huffs as you reach your car and waits for you to unlock it.

“I didn’t choose the car nor the colour of it. And red is not my favourite colour.” You say with a little pout as you unlock the car and both of you get in. Ace has to adjust the seat as he is a bit too tall for your car.

“Yea, bet.” He scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“Where should I drive to?”

“My place.” Ace replies dryly. Brushing your wet hair from your face you nod and start the car.

****

The car ride is silent. The only time you and Ace exchange any type of words is when you ask him for direction. These twenty minutes to his place felt like an eternity to you. ‘Good job (Y/N), now you messed up any chance to have something with him.’ You are thinking to yourself. There is no chance that things will recover easily now that you have put both you and Ace in this situation. Parking the car in front of the building where he lives you don’t dare to look at him.

Unbuttoning his seatbelt Ace looks at you with one brow raised. Why are you not turning off the car?

“Aren’t you coming?” Hearing the question from him you finally dare to look at him.

“Uh... I... do you want me to come? I-I don’t want to bother your mom or something.” This and you also haven’t expected to receive such an invitation from him.

“Yea, come if you want. My mother is not home anyway.” He is still a bit pissed at you, but he also sees you trembling as you both are still soaking wet from the rain. Last thing Ace wants is for you to get sick because of him.

Hesitating for a moment you slowly nod your head and turn off the car. Unbuttoning your seatbelt, you and Ace both go out of it. The rain is still pouring but none of you hurries up to get inside. You are quietly following him as you enter the building and get in the elevator. Ace press the third floor on it and in the meantime, you look at yourself in the mirror. You notice that you look like a mess – with your hair and cloths all wet and your makeup ruined you feel like a clown right now. On top of it you notice that your bra is seen from under your shirt, and you can feel the embarrassment taking over your features again.

The ding of the elevator indicates that you reached his floor, and you wait for him to go out first so you can follow. Searching for his keys in the side pocket of his gym bag Ace pulls them up and unlocks the door. Opening the door, he nods at you to get in first. Taking a step in and taking off your boots you take a quick look around the place. It looks very neat and cozy, the walls are a very nice light cream nude colour.

“We can go to my room.” Ace says as he starts walking toward it and you go after him. While passing the living room you notice that there are a lot of paintings on the walls of flowers. Looking at you over his shoulder Ace notices you observing them. “It’s my mom’s hobby. Painting flowers is her new obsession.” He explains while holding the door to his room open waiting for you to get in.

“She pains very nice, they are beautiful.” You say as you look from under your lashes at him as you pass to enter his room. The room is quite messy, but you are not surprised or judgy as yours is not better condition than his. Some of the walls have basketball players on them and the walls are paint in a nice spruce blue colour. Next to his window is a big desk with his computer on it and by the looks of it he is also a gamer boy.

“You game a lot?” You ask trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has taken over again and also to calm yourself down because the realisation that you are in his room, in his apartment soaking wet just hits you.

“Yea, you can say this.” His reply is dry but unbeknown to you Ace is feeling just as awkward as you are right now. What was he thinking inviting you over? Especially with you looking like this right now, which causes his mind to run wild with the things he wants to do to you.

“Is that LeBron?” You point at one of the posters hanged on the walls to which he scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s Koby, um... it’s written with big letters on it.” He points back at the poster, and you awkwardly chuckle at your obvious mistake.

“Sorry, guess I need to check my eyes.” You let out a giggle as you try to lighten up the mood. Ace doesn’t share the giggle with you and at this point you are running out of ideas to how to make the situation less awkward. Chills run all over you and you wrap your arms around you to which Ace clears his throat.

“I can give you some clothes to change to, um... give me a sec and sit on the bed or something you don’t need to stand up.”

“It’s okay I don’t want to wet your bed or something.” You try to brush his offer off, but he just points with his eyes towards the bed so you just nod. Going to his wardrobe he starts to look for something that can fit you as well, but all his cloths will be too big on you. Finding some old basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt he grabs them, ‘they should fit her’ he thinks to himself. Turning around and seeing you sitting crossed leg on his bed so innocently looking at him at the same time with guilt written all over your face, gets his pulse raising. Taking a few steps and standing in front of you, with a little bit of a distance, he hands you the clothes. You mouth a thank you and reach with your hand to take them.

“Why did you stop me from punching his face but not yourself from spiting on it? You realise that now you are the one in trouble not me?” Giving you the clothes he sits right next to you on the bed. This time his voice is calm, there is no trace of anger in it. Ace wants to genuinely know why you put yourself in this situation.

Trying to collect yourself you don’t know how to response to this question without making things between you two worse. How do you tell him that you like him so much that the fact that a guy like Jack trying to make some kind of fun of him makes your blood boil. How do you tell Ace in a first place that you like him?

“I-I told you Ace... I just... just don’t like people like Jack making fun of others.” You uncross your legs and put the clothes to the side as you start playing with your fingers nervously.

“I get this part without you needing to repeat yourself. But you came and told me to drop it only for you to go and do the same thing is not very smart.” Ace turns his head to face you, but you refuse to look at him. “(Y/N) look at me.” His words are demanding but his voice is not, instead it is softer and somehow pleading. Still, you refuse to look at him as you are afraid if you do so you won’t be able to resist the urge to just scream at his face that you have feelings for him. Ace curses under his breath and places two of his finger under your chin making you look at him. “I didn’t and I don’t care what any person in this fucking school will or already is thinking of me or the video they saw. In a few months none of these people will matter. And I have been wanting to punch Jack’s face in a long time and if it wasn’t for you, I was going to do it. But why did you have to get involved?” Ace is trying his best to get an answer from you but all he gets is widen from fear eyes and you biting on your lip to a point where he thinks blood will come out soon. With a sigh he drops the hand that holds your chin on the bed next to your thigh, his shoulders slumping a bit as he doesn’t know what do to or say to make you to tell him the truth behind your actions. “I’m not mad at you, I’m more concerned about what will happen to you now. I don’t want you to get expelled from school because of me.”

“They won’t expel me, I will get in trouble, but they won’t expel me for it, so don’t worry.” Your voice is quiet as you try to reassure Ace that he shouldn’t be worried about you. But the fact that he is concern about you is filling your belly with butterflies.

“This doesn’t answer my question (Y/N).” He says propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in the palms of his hands.

“I-I can’t Ace.” You whisper.

“You can’t tell me? Why?” He straitens his posture again and looks at you in disbelief. “Why are you shy out of nowhere? Where is the confident rebellious girl that I know, now? You left her at school or something?” He is right. This isn’t like you. But you just can’t bring yourself to tell him, afraid of his rejection. You could feel your heart beating faster with every passing second.

“I- Ace... I- I... I did it because... because...” The words are on the tip of your tongue but saying them aloud is harder than you expected. Especially now with your eyes locked, the more you look into his deep dark eyes the more you are afraid of them rejecting you. “Because... Ace...”

“Just say it for fuck’s sake.” He snaps and at the same time you shut your eyes closed and blurt it out.

“Because I like you.” Silence filles the room. With your chest raising and falling fast you don’t dare to look at Ace, while he is trying to process what he just heard. Did he heard you right, you like him? Like you have a crush on him?

“Wh-what do you mean you like me?” His eyes widen from the shock and voice filled with confusion if you dare to open your eyes you will see his cheeks covered in blush as he still can’t believe what he has just heard. Not being able to take any more embarrassment for today you jump on your feet ready to run but Ace catches you just on time as you are about to open the door. Turning you around to face him and grabbing both of your wrists in his hands he pins you against the door with his body. “You can’t tell me you like me only to run away a second later.” He grunts as his face leans closer to yours. “How long?”

“Ace please...” You whisper pleadingly. Your legs are getting weak and your mind is getting foggy from having him towering over you. Not to mention the heat that forms in between your legs from the way you can feel his body on you.

“No. Answer. Now.” His voice goes lower and deeper sending chills on your body. “How long?” He repeats his question as he squeezes on your wrists but not in a painful way but in a very gentle yet demanding one. Looking away from his eyes he clicks with his tongue. “No, look me in the eyes.” Cursing under your nose you do as he tells you too. “Good girl. Now answer.”

“Since we start school.” You mumble quietly almost making it impossible for him to hear you.

“Louder (Y/N).” He presses his body on you entirely with one leg in between yours causing you to bite on your lip so hard just so you can supress the moan that almost has slipped your lips.

“Since we started school, okay? I had a crush on you since day one and... and then I started to like you... that’s... that’s why I-I...” You can’t finish your sentence as Ace crashes his lips with yours. It takes you a second to realise what has happened but the moment you do you return the kiss immediately. His kiss and his lips are better than you have imagined them - soft and full, you are a hundred percent sure you have never kissed a guy with such nice lips before. And the way he kisses you with passion and desire you are about to melt in his hands. Releasing your wrist and wrapping his arms around your waist you are fast to wrap yours around his neck.

“Jump.” Ace whispers against your lips and he doesn’t need to tell you twice. With one little bounce he catches you in his steady arms and lifts you. Wrapping your legs around his torso he continues to kiss you as this time his tongue licks your lower lips asking you to open your mouth. Parting your lips Ace wastes no time slipping his tongue inside your mouth. Electric currents are running over your body the moment he deepens the kiss. His tongue gliding with yours feels so warm and sweet. The taste of the kiss is a mixture of mint and the candy you and Robin shared earlier before classes.

Walking to the bed with you in his arms Ace places you gently in the middle of it as he hovers over your body without breaking the kiss. Now like this you have a better access to his body, you run one of your hands through his messy soft dark locks and the other over his hard defined with muscles back. Breaking the kiss to take the needed air both of you have forgotten that you need, Ace looks at you with half lidded eyes as he licks his lips which now are puffier from the kissing.

“You want this as well, right?” He sounds a little out of breath as his face comes closer to your ready to kiss your sweet puffy lips again, but also to make sure that you both are on the same page with where this is going. You can’t find your voice so all you can do is nod your head and pull him for another kiss. This time you don’t supress the moan that wants to escape your lips when you feel his hand grabbing and squeezing your thighs as he slides them under your skirt.

Feeling the soft skin of your thighs and hearing your sweet alluring moan, Ace feels his dick twitching in his shorts. Removing his hands from under your skirt he finds the zipper of it and unzips it. Pulling away from the kiss and you, he gives you a few slaps on the side of your right thigh to lift your hips so he can take off your skirt. Doing as you are being told he takes it off fast and sighs with pleasure at the view in front of him as he parts your legs.

“You sure red is not your favourite colour?” He smirks as he teases you over your red lace panties which now are drenched from your wetness. “Come on, I have only kissed you, not even properly touch you yet and you are this desperate for me?” Ace licks his lips not moving his eyes away from your covered pussy.

“You are not the one to talk.” You are quick to tease him back as his hardened bulge is being quite visibly defined in his basketball shorts.

“I’m not even fully hard yet.” He smirks from satisfaction seeing your pupils dilate. Hovering over you once again Ace kisses you again but only for his lips to travel to your jawline down to your neck. Him kissing and nipping your neck, while his hands are running up and down your thighs, feels like you are levitating. Finding your sweet spot on your neck, Ace gives it a lick and then sucks on it causing you to jerk your body upwards from the pleasure and goosebumps he has just caused you, but he is fast to hold you firm under him with his hands and body. “Stay put.” He whispers in your ear as he bites on the soft part of it causing you to whine under him.

Running your hands down on his biceps you realise that he has way too many clothes, and it’s time for him to get rid from some of it. Reaching with your hands down to his torso you find the ends of his compress shirt and start lifting it. Knowing what your intensions are, Ace helps you with removing the shirt as he throws it somewhere across the room. You feel your pussy throbs from the sight of him shirtless. His chest is defined and muscular and so are his abs which get your mouth running dry. You run both of your hands over it, feeling his warm and soft skin under your fingertips, you bite on your lower lip as you notice a tattoo on his left arm, which you have never seen before.

“Enjoying the view?” He chuckles as his hands reach for the buttons of your shirt and start unbuttoning them one by one. Propping yourself on your elbows, you help him take it off. Reaching to unclip your bra Ace is quick to stop you. “No, this can stay. Red looks good on you.” His voice has gone raspier and he gently pushes you to lay back on the bed again. Pressing you once again on the matters he dips his head in the crook of your neck and slowly trails his lips down to the valley of your chest. With his hands now on both of your breasts he cups them and squeezes gently.

While he is busy kissing the skin around them and massaging them you are exploring the expanse of his back and shoulders. Reaching the waistband of his basketball shorts and determined to take them down, you get distracted as you feel Ace pushing one side of your bra lower and wrapping his lips around your harden nipple. Your hands move to his hair instantly as you push him closer to your chest. He doesn’t let your other breast feel left out as his thumb and index finger are switching between soft and hard pinches making you whine in pleasure.

“Ace please.” You beg him as you can feel the pool of arouser that has formed in between your legs. Rasing your hips a bit so you can get a bit of friction to his harden bulge he pins you down again with his body making it impossible for you to move. Letting go of your nipple with his lips and looking up at you he shakes his head. His dark brown eyes are now filled with lust as does his mind.

“Do you know how long you have been teasing me with these stockings you come to school and your innocent glances at me all the time?” He asks you while rolling his hips on top of you with a hiss. Your eyes widen with surprise as you heard that he has caught you staring at him all the time in school. “What you think I haven’t notice?” Ace laughs mockingly at you. “You think I haven’t notice you getting all dolled up for our first meeting for the project or these beautiful thighs since day one?” He teases you with his low deep voice as he stars traveling down with his lips on your body.

Moving his hands and placing them at the back of your knees Ace raises them and places your legs on his shoulders leaving you entirely exposed to him. Running his fingers on your stockings up to where your thighs are exposed, he lets out a sigh full of satisfaction. Your soft and beautiful thighs which have been driving him crazy for months, now are finally in his hands and the things he has been planning to do to them are about to come true.

With one hand caressing your left thigh, he starts slowly placing a trail of kisses on the inner side of the right one. As he gets close to now your drenched lace panties, he bites softly on your softest part of your inner thigh causing you to jerk closer to him as you can’t stand his teasing anymore.

“Ace please... please touch me.” You are so desperate for his touch that a single tear falls from your left eye.

“Sh, patience.” He is quick to hush you as he turns his attention now to your left thigh and does the exact same thing all over again but this time with his kisses are slopier. Not only the waistband around his basketball short is getting tighter but so are his boxers. It takes all his willpower to withhold himself from taking them down and fuck you aggressive on his bed, but before he does this, he must taste your pussy.

Gripping on the side of your hips a bit to harsh but not on purpose, Ace drags your lower body even closer to his face and finally he is able to inhale the sweet smell from your soaked pussy. Kissing your pussy lips over the fabric of your panties, a whisper leaves your mouth. Tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his nose, Ace stops at your covered entrance and kisses it, causing his lips to get wet from your dripping pussy. Licking his lips and taseting how sweet your cunt is, he can’t help but moan himself. Holding you still firm in his arms with legs propped on his shoulders, he reaches with his right index to move aside your panties.

“Oh God you are so beautiful.” His voice comes out as a whine of pleasure as he finally uncovers you and he can see your coated from arousal pussy. You can’t help but clench your cunt around nothing as his comment makes you squeeze your thighs from desire. “Ye baby, make this pussy throbs again.” Ace being pussydrunk by the sight in front of him, can’t move his eyes from your cunt as he is in an awe. You do as he has told you and another moan leaves his lips. The view of your wet pussy leaking with your arousal almost made him finish on the spot.

Not wasting a second more Ace buries his face in your wet folds. Taking one long lick from the entrance to your puffed clit your whole body shakes. Cleaning all the sweet juices off he is now entirely focused on your clit. Sucking and licking the bundle of nerves Ace gets you twisting and turning under him. A sudden impactful slap causes tingling sensation on your ass cheek. A mixture of pleasurable pain and surprice leaves your lips.

“Stay still.” Is the only thing Ace tells you as he looks at you with a hungry look in his eyes and lips still on your pussy. “Or you won’t finish.”

Inhaling deep as he goes back to eating you out you are now entirely up to his mercy. You can no longer move or squeeze your hips afraid that he might deny you your orgasm. Sucking harshly on your clit, he extremely gently bites on it which caused you a feeling of pleasurable pain that you have never felt before, he slowly moves his tongue to your entrance. Plunging his tongue in your entrance he starts to slowly tongue fuck you which causes your eyes to roll from pleasure. Taking a better hold of you with his left arm Ace reaches with his right hand and places his thumb on your clit and start to run circles around it. With his tongue fucking you and his finger playing with your clit you feel the pleasure building in your lower stomach. Gripping the bedsheets under you in a tight grip your hips start to shake. It takes one stronger push on your clit from Ace’s finger to get you crying out his name as your orgasm hits you like the truck.

Ace rolls his eyes from pleasure the moment he feels you clenching your pussy around his tongue as your sweet cum covers his tongue. Not even bothering to stop until he licks the last drop from you Ace doesn’t move an inch from your pussy.

“Ace, Ace please... please I’m too sensitive... Ace...” You try to make him stop but all the air has left your lungs and you feel dizzy under him. With one last long lick and a kiss placed on top of your clit Ace finally pulls his head away from between your thighs. Taking your legs off from his shoulders he lays them spread on the bed. Coming closer and hovering over you he brushes the hair from your face and kisses your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips as now he is slowly kissing you as his lips and chin are covered in your pussy’s juices.

“You taste so sweet, baby. I can get addicted to the taste of you.” He whispers as he pulls from the kiss. With half lidded eyes and still recovering from the aftermath of your orgasm you cup his face in your hands and pull him for another kiss. Relaxing his body on top of yours, you can feel his dick twitching in his pants. Sliding one hand in between your bodies you trace the harden bulge with your hand and squeeze it causing Ace to hiss from pleasure. Breaking the kiss again you both looking into each others’ eyes.

“I think your shorts needs to be taken off.” You swallow hard as you gently massage his hard member.

“Yea, I think so too.” Sitting on his knees again Ace pulls down his shorts along with his boxers freeing his harden cock. Your thighs clench at the sight of it. His cock is not only big, but it is also thick and vainly. Precum is already leaking from his redden tip as he runs his hand up and down his shaft. Moving to stand from his bed he takes the shorts and the boxers off entirely and kicks them on the floor. He reaches to his nightstand and open the last drawer taking a condom from it. Ripping it open with his teeth he slides the condom on his length and hopes back on bed, nesting himself between your legs. “Are you ready? Relaxed?” He hovers over you and looks at your eyes to see if there is any sign of hesitation in them.

“I am Ace.” You breath out as you adjust your body more comfortably on the pillows behind you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him closer to you.

“You are not a...” He awkwardly scrunches his face as even though he is sure you are not a virgin, he rather be safe then sorry.

“Uh, no... I... I have done it a few times.” You chuckle a little shy and also finding it adorable that he is so mindful about your comfort as well. Nodding he spreads your legs open a little more with one hand as he runs the tip of his dick up and down from your clit to your entrance.

“Relax and enjoy then.” He says as he kisses your lips once more and positions his tip on your entrance. You bite on his lower lip as with a little push he entrances you slowly. The feeling of burn is taking over your core because of his size and seeing this, Ace gives you some time to adjust to it. Clenching around him he hisses from pleasure which instinctively makes him trust in you. A moan of pleasure escapes your parted lips, and this gives Ace the sign to go.

Rocking his hips slowly but steady in and out of you, Ace has propped himself on his elbows on both of your sides and is looking down on where your bodies are connected. Trying to muffle your whines and moans by kissing along his neck and shoulders, your hands are exploring his chest and back as you can’t get enough of the feeling of his soft skin on yours.

Increasing his tempo as he feels you relaxing more under him Ace grabs your legs again and place them on his shoulders, raising your lower back in the air as he grabs a pillow and places it under it. Now standing steady on his knees, he has put you both in a better position where you can feel him better and deeper in your gummy walls, hitting the sweet spot causing you pleasure all over your body. Now focused on your breasts bouncing with every hard thrust he reaches with his hands and pinches your hard nipples causing you to arch your back from pleasure. Clenching and unclenching your pussy from pleasure around him, your moans mixed with his grunts fill up the room.

“Shit, if you continue to squeeze this tight I... shit...” He lets out a moan as you squeeze on more time your pussy around his dick. Grunting, Ace puts down your left leg and turns your body to the side as he keeps your right leg up. In this position, hitting your walls sideways you can’t help but roll your eyes from pleasure. You can feel the burning sensation in your lower stomach forming once again indicating you that you are close.

Seeing you arching your back and rolling your eyes, with fists clenching around the bedsheets a cocky smile spreads across his face. Ace feels like he has never seen something sexier than you right now - your puffy swollen lips parted and your boobs bouncing up and down with every trust his dick makes deep into you.

“Ace, I’m goin...” A muffle cry leaves your lips, making it unable for you to finish your sentence as your whole-body jerks and shakes around Ace as you milk down his dick. The squeezing of your pussy as you climax on him, makes it feel tighter for him and Ace can feel that he is about to cum soon. With the feeling of your warm gummy walls hugging tight his dick he trusts now harder in you than before. The sounds of your skin slapping and the hot air of sex that has taken over the room makes him roll his own eyes and with one last thrust he shoots his head back and a loud groan leaves his lips as he cums with his dick buried deep in you.

With both of you trying to catch your breaths, Ace pulls out after a minute from you but before he gets from the bed he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. Grabbing his boxers before he leaves the room, he tells you that he will be back in a moment to which you only nod as you are still recovering from your high. Coming back after a minute in the room with his boxers on, he carries a wet towel with him.

“You don’t need to do all this I can do it myself.” You protest but Ace shushes you as he sits on the bed next to you and gently cleans the mess between your legs.

“I clean after myself, plus you said you don’t want to wet my bed, right?” He chuckles as he messes up with you. Hiding your face with the palms of your hands you laugh at his comment.

After he made sure that you are good and alright, Ace helps you to put some cloths on and both of you get under the covers of his bed. He is leaned on the headboard as one of his hands is placed over your shoulders with your head on his chest. Runing circles on his chest with your fingers you move your head a bit to take a better look at him.

“Um, Ace?” You quietly call for his attention and he focus it on you. “Can I ask why were you arrested?” You aren’t sure if this is the best moment to ask this, but it is worth the shot. Ace hums and takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I was getting in school fights a lot and one day I broke a guy’s arm from my class. But this is not why they cuffed me, it was because I was high and had weed with me.” He explains short and clear. “I got kicked out and with a lot of connections and thanks to my grades, my mom managed to get me into the shit of school we go now.” Saying this he looks down on you and chuckles sarcastically. “You still like me now?”

“The question is do you like me?” You are still scared of the answer as having sex with you don’t equal mutual feelings.

“About this...” Ace takes a deep breath in and can’t help but laughs as he sees your face going blank from fear. “How do you feel about a date this Friday?” He gives you a charming smile and you are finally able to breath again.

“As long as I don’t get grounded after today, it is a yes.” You smile at him as you would love to go on a date with him.

“Then this should give you your answer.” He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle closer to him.

****

You two have fallen asleep when Ace suddenly jerks awake as he hears something falling in the kitchen. Looking around his room is dark which means you two have taken quite the long nap. Moving you aside a bit as he gets up to check what made the noise. Putting a t-shirt and a pair of shorts to cover his body, Ace leaves the room fast as he doesn’t want to wake you up.

Getting in the kitchen he is met with his mom stern but also warm gaze.

“Care to explain why you left school early today?” Rogue asks her son as she is preparing dinner. Ace blushes as he realises now that his mother is home there is no way possible that he can sneaks you out nor that she hasn’t notice the pair of girly boots by the entrance of her home.

“Uh, yes ma. But you know... I kinda have someone over.” He awkwardly scratches the nape of his neck. Rogue can’t help but laugh as she sees Ace whole face getting flushed.

“Mm, I kind of already figured this out.” She half shrugs with her brings her focus again on the cutting board. “Is she your girlfriend?” Taking a glance at her son again she giggles as he is struggling with finding the right words to describe the situation.

“Soon to be... maybe... yea something like this.” Ace murmurs avoiding looking at his mother.

“Well, then she should definitely stay for dinner, don’t you think?” Rouge puts the knife down and smiles at Ace. This is new. She has never met any girl Ace has liked or let alone catching him with one at their home, so she is more than excited to finally meet a girl who her son is interested in.

“I will ask her if she wants to.” Ace says as he turns to walk back to his room.

“Is she the girl you are paired with for biology?” Rouge calls after Ace before he leaves the room to which he response with his thumbs up without looking back at her. A big knowing smile placed on her face. She knew it. She knew that his recent behaviour is caused because of a girl. And she can’t wait to meet her and thanks her for bringing her son’s sparkle back.

END NOTE: This is the first smut ever that I write so please I need a feedback if it was good or not. I really hope that you have enjoyed this one shot as I really tried to build the characters and their characteristics + behavior in the best way possible giving the fact that this won't be a series. Also I hope that you have enjoy the little interactions between Ace and his mother Rouge as I feel like he would be such a mama's boy but not in the awful unhealthy obsessed way, but in the very healthy mother-son relationship. Anyway I won't be yapping more - if you liked this short story feel free to like, comment, reblog or inbox me ♡ And as aways thank you for reading my works ♡

writing, format, header & dividers © eand47©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[saintfelina]

when you want to feel sultry, sexy, and dominant. you may want to go for a boozy perfume. smelling them feels like sipping an expensive cognac at an upscale restaurant. but they can also be the life of the party, fitting for those who've spent liquor soaked nights dancing the night away.

the interesting thing about these, is that they tend to be masculine, or at least marketed that way. very few boozy fragranes are marketed towards women.

despite the name, a boozy fragrance doesn't need an alcohol note, it can be a certain amount of vanilla, plum notes, dried fruit and oak. these are things normally seen in the creation and fermentation of alcohol. but alcohol notes an be deep and rich like cognac, brandy and rum, or they can be bright and fizzy like champagne.

jazz club lives up to its name, as it's very evocative of the sultry nature of the titular place. it's a smoky rum scent that settles beautifully on the skin as long as you don't overspray, its a true unisex in my opinion

there's a review of plum in cognac that goes along like lines of "i fell like i came home one night and got drunk off of this" and that's the best way to describe it. a jammy, plummy, boozy scent that's so intoxicating you'll get tipsy off one sniff.

one of the few of the fragrances in elizabeth & james nirvana line that still exists. nirvana bourbon is a smooth, potent whiskey. i wore this on many drunk nights out before gifting it to my mom bc i got blackout while wearing it. despite that it's beautiful, it has a slight spice to it and it's almost the the barrel the whiskey was aged in.

lets make things lighter with lolita lempicka's oh ma biche. this is an effervescent, sparkling citrus. it's a sparkling belini-champagne cocktail. this more marie antoinettes champagne tower. its fruity and festive and fun.

franck boclet vinyl is a boozy whiskey cola. filled with richness and depth, it's equally playful and sexy. a leather jacket over a tight mini dress. there's a dark chocolate underneath that makes it a little sweet.

wet cherry liquor is a dirty shirley in a bottle. the best boozy cherry if not the best cherry you'll ever smell. she's the party girl, the backstage bambi getting in with all the rockstars. they write songs about her liquor cherry sent.

cherry amaretto is a sweet, syrupy scent. more of a spiked cherry punch than a cherry wine. you'll either love or hate this.

this is an earthy boozy scent. bourbon brewed in an old shack thats been passed down through generations. you use it for both rituals and pleasure.

1697 by frapin is a masterclass in boozy scents, and given this is crated by a rum/cognac brand. it's a spiced rum and many pick out a chocolate note, like a spiced boozy chocolate drink. it opens dry before settling into something warmer.

ending with a classic, kilian angels' share is the perfume you think of when it comes to boozy scents. it smells like you poured a bottle of cognac. there's a welcoming sweetness to it and it has an apple-like undercurrent that makes it feminine enough to not be intimidating.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 1!

happy new year, everyone!! we're kicking the year off with a slightly shorter rec list than usual - i've been spending a lot more time with family, and a lot less time reading - of lovely, lovely fics. enjoy!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i want for christmas... | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.4k | GA

“So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.” i am still thoroughly enjoying a few more holiday fics and this one was an absolute highlight this week!! so soft and lovely <3

'cause i took the long road to find you wanting me | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 6k | T

Buck can't bring himself to act normal around Eddie in the days after he reveals he's looking for houses in El Paso, he knows that Eddie leaving will be one of the most painful things he'll have to endure, but he refuses to tell him that he shouldn't go. After a few days, Eddie comes to Buck's loft unannounced to confront him about it, and everything becomes even more complicated. i LOVE this fic's characterisation of buck so very much <3 so good!!

every corner of this house is haunted | justhockey | 2.5k | GA

And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here. the excitment i feel whenever i see a new justhockey fic <3 i mean seriously, do you need to read more than those two little summary paragraphs to be convinced to read this gem of a fic? i don't think you do. click the link, you know you want to <3

honey came in and she caught me red-handed | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 9.3k | E

buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out. so hot so good so them <3 oh how i love buddie accidentally sending each other nudes, and this fic is right there among the very best of them!!

if only in my dreams | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 9.2k | GA

Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it. at this point a michelle rec list isn't a michelle rec list without a fic by songbvrd on it lol. what can i say, i know what i like, and this author happens to write a lot of it! i love buck going a little bit insane over eddie moving and his decorating and the buddie and just everything <3

pluto is not a planet. | gooondocks (happyhauntt)/@happyhauntt | 3.2k | GA

buck finds out that pluto isn't a planet anymore and takes it very personally. this fic is so so gorgeously written. the most beautiful character study introspection buck fic. genuinely just that good <3

with all the clouds around (it's never been clearer than now) | seachanged | 2.4k | T

It happens on a Saturday. Or, it starts on a Friday that turns into Saturday, the easy joy of the night tipping over into the pale, vulnerable light of the morning; dazzling in its inevitability.  the buddie dynamic here is so so good, a little teasing and a little flirty but mostly so very soft <3 lovely fic!!

[notpixl]

HSR Character Drabbles (Ft. The Stellaron Hunters & The IPC)

Had to change the title since like the realizing part is kind of restricting my headcanoning ahh and I want to just-

Your honor just kill me I just wanna write 🫠

GN!Reader as per usual

And if there was a Title to describe this whole bananza then it’s: What do they do when they’re in love with You?

But it feels… you know what? Just enjoy this mess.

Also! Established Relationships for Topaz and Aventurine. I would’ve gone insane by the time I had something for them that isn’t in the relationship phase…

—————

———

—————

Kafka

She’s “somewhat” clingy

Been like this ever since she’s laid her eyes on you

You just bring a… certain charm that makes her enamored

And this feeling soon devolved into something more…

I wouldn’t say worse but…

It reaches to the point where she cherishes every moment with you

Be it longer hugs

Her hands intertwined with yours at any chance she gets

Or a few more minutes just so she can lay in bed you a little bit longer (the whole one room one bed is orchestrated by her, of course)

You’re just…

Mm…

She just wants to be with you

Every second

Smile for her, will you? Just once? It’ll get her going

Silver Wolf

Holed up in her room

Otome games stacked beside her

Reading text at near light speeds as if it isn’t even difficult

And once she meets her own reflection from the end credits…

She concludes that it isn’t enough

…she wants everything to go right

Not to make an embarrassment of herself

It has her spiraling downwards and staying up for days until you’re told by Kafka to check in on her

Her eyes flutter open

Words of concern spill out of your mouth

She’s not even listening to you

Just…

Wondering if these hands on her shoulders are real or not

Thankfully she does get ahold of her senses and willingly heads to bed

Not before having more… thoughts

Damn can she be just normal for once-

Tip for Boss: Give her a hug

Blade

Sort of good news…?

He’s in love

Bad news?

He’s in love

He goes to such lengths in distancing himself from you, often taking missions that’ll definitely take a month or two to finish…

It’s only when Elio and Kafka step in with these countless missions that he begrudgingly takes in your presence again

Though… some part of him appreciates your company

Even if one day you…

Well…

Let’s just ignore that for a second

All that matters now…

Is that you’re here

Side note: Ruffle his hair at least once or twice a week.

Pretty please.

Firefly

She’ll be fine she says!

Cues to her trying to get a grip of everything the moment you wave at her

Firefly is… a mess to put it at words

Girlfailure if you will

From spacing out just by calling her name or her brain needing a reboot when you hold her hand

Heck, even Kafka and Silverwolf are teasing her about this!

But… she isn’t afraid to improve

Because one day

She’ll have the courage to…

To ask if you’re fine with eating cake rolls with her…

…

Doesn’t that just sound like a date-

Fun fact: She will stay still as a rock if you lay your head on her shoulder. Use this for whatever you want

Aventurine

Countless paper bags scattered across thr living room

You don’t deny these gifts of course it’s just…

You know

You’re not used to this

This amount of…

Appreciation

So, who would’ve thought that one day…

He decides to visit you!

Without warning!

…How did he even know your addre-

Right, your wallet…

That aside he’s just…

Standing there

Processing what’s in front of him right now

“…do you want more?”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want a mansion instead?”

“Navi, can you get ahold of yourself please-

Call him nicknames. Makes him a tomato.

Topaz

Lap Pillows

And also Numby laying on your tummy

This has been an occasional thing whenever the weekend comes by

There’s also a switch in roles! And it happens quite often during weekdays when she comes home from work

Which lets you pepper her with kisses, leaving her a blushing mess afterwards

She’ll also fake getting sick just so she can be enveloped by your lovey dovey hugs just a bit longer

Though that always ends in her grumpily heading back to work…

“I miss my S/O, Numby…” She says as she closes the front door

Tip: If you kiss her then keep kissing her then make out and head to fourth base did you know she’ll be really needy an

Dr Ratio

After countless research and conducting…

Does he finally come up with a solution

…

A change in attitude

His rather… harsh demeanor would only lead to distancing yourself from him

Which explains itself very well in not having a chance at expressing his feelings for you

…but he’ll do what he can

Big or small

So long as you see him…

The way he sees you

Then writing this Thesis about Love isn’t so bad after all

I.E. Dr. Ratio turns soft for your sake and everyone else’s

…

“What’s this?”

“Tea. I thought you might need it for the gargantuous amount of paperwork.”

“Thanks… are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

“Why the assumption…?”

“You’re smiling.”

…

….

…

Yell at me if I did something bad for anyone in thi sob drabble :(

And that if this gets more than eleven likes I will have to acknowledge the fact that people like this

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[alewritesfics]

Bridging Realities

ℑ𝔙. 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤..... 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

The morning sun streamed through the windows of the Featherington estate, casting a golden glow over the lively preparations for the day ahead. You were seated at your vanity, Varley fussing over your hair with more vigor than necessary, muttering about how even a race required proper presentation. You nodded absently, your mind far from the conversation—or even the impending event.

You were dressed already, the soft, pastel blue gown fitting you comfortably as you stood and moved toward the window. You still wonder how on earth you got port- mama, to agree to buy new dresses and with different colors this time, although you think it mostly has to do with the arrival of the new featherington lord and how it meant that they no longer needed to worry about money much.

The bustle of the household faded as you leaned against the frame, gazing out at the beautiful house across the street, in which you could swear you see movement in.

It should’ve been a simple day—a moment to enjoy the festivities, the thrill of the race, and the chatter of the crowd. And yet, the weight of your thoughts anchored you in place.

The question swirled relentlessly in your mind. What do you do next?

The story you knew so well—the love story of Kate and Anthony—was already beginning to take shape. You’d seen the tension between them last night, the sharp glances, the lingering stares. You knew the moments that were meant to happen next.

But at what cost? Edwina’s heartbreak? Anthony’s stubbornness that was the whole reason people got hurt in the first place? Was it even your place to intervene? A few days ago you didn’t even exist in this world, so how could you?

Your gaze drifted to the bright sky, searching for clarity. And yet, another thought began to creep in, unbidden but persistent.

What if you didn’t step aside?

What if you let yourself want something—long for someone—for once? Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t just a name on a page, or a face in a show anymore. He was a man, flesh and blood, with flaws and feelings. And you… you weren’t just a bystander that dreamed to be in a love story like his. Not anymore.

Your fingers tightened on the windowsill as your heart warred with itself. To let the story unfold as it always had or to take a leap into the unknown, to risk selfishness for the chance at something real.

And then again, maybe you were meant to change things? Why on earth would the universe transport you into the world you’ve always dreamed of if you weren’t meant to?

“Miss Y/N?” Varley’s voice broke through your reverie, startling you. “The carriage will be ready soon. We mustn’t keep the others waiting.”

You straightened, smoothing the fabric of your gown as you turned back to the room. “Of course, Varley,” you said, your tone steady even as your thoughts churned.

As you left the room, you resolved one thing: Today, at the races, you would make a choice. Whether to follow the script you knew so well or to write a story of your own.

“Why did I have to accompany you?” you asked as you walked behind Penelope as she entered the drawing room of the Bridgerton house

She ignored your words, approaching Eloise from behind “Is that a copy of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope asked

“It is” Eloise answered, putting down the paper

“I thought we were done with her” Penelope said

“Do not discourage her, Penelope” Lady Bridgerton said “If she has taken an interest in Lady Whistledown again, perhaps it means she’s interested in what she has to say about the season’s available gentlemen too” She turned towards her daughter

You chuckled, swallowing down your nerves as you approached her mother “If Eloise has anything to say about it, Lady Bridgerton, then no” You said

“See, even Y/n gets me” Eloise huffed, turning to face Penelope

You smiled, looking at what you hope will be your future mother in law “Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted

She stopped her embroidery, looking up at you with a smile “Y/n, dear, it has been a long time since you’ve visited” Violet said

You blinked before you realized that perhaps you had or well, the past Y/n Featherington had visited the Bridgerton home before with Penelope.

“Yes, it has been” you nodded before sitting on the chair next to her “artist Bridgerton brother,” you greeted Benedict with a smile

He chuckled “still calling me by that, poet Featherington sister?” He teased back

You looked at him lost “Poet?” you said confused

“yeah,” he brought down his sketchbook “Don’t you remember when you recited on and on about the color of Anthony’s hair, his mesmerizing eyes?”

What?

“Oh, yes, I remember that as well” Lady Bridgerton chuckled “It was sweet seeing how enamored you were with Anthony when you were little, of course, it never went far as you were only three and ten years old when you decided you wanted to marry Anthony and he was well off into adulthood”

Your face froze as Lady Beidgerton’s words sank in, your heart skipping a beat. What?! You laughed nervously, trying to mask your shock. “I—well, I suppose teenage girls are prone to fanciful ideas, are they not?”

“Fanciful indeed,” Violet said, smiling warmly. “Though, I must admit, it was endearing. You followed him about during those visits, asking the most peculiar questions about the responsibilities of a viscount. You were so earnest, poor Anthony didn’t know what to do with you!”

Benedict smirked. “Oh, he certainly knew what to do—run off to the study and hide.”

“Benedict!” Violet scolded lightly, though her tone was still amused.

You felt your cheeks heat, and for a moment, you were lost for words. Of course, the past you would have been a lovestruck teenager, completely unaware of what that might mean for your interactions now.

You cleared your throat, your mind racing as you tried to compose yourself. “I assure you, I’ve outgrown such girlish infatuations. Besides, Anthony and I have hardly spoken more than a few words to each other recently.”

“Oh, but that could change,” Violet said, her tone light but laden with meaning. “Anthony needs a steady hand, someone with wit and charm to keep him grounded.”

Benedict leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at you knowingly. “And who better to manage his chaos than someone who once planned her entire future around him?”

You shot him a pointed look, though your lips twitched upward in a small, reluctant smile. “I believe we’re getting far ahead of ourselves.”

“Perhaps,” Violet said with a conspiratorial glint in her eye, “but it’s always nice to see old friends rekindle a connection.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of their playful remarks mingling with your own uncertainty. You had come here prepared to make a choice, but now it seemed as though fate—or the Bridgertons—was nudging you toward one particular path.

“I believe we were never friends, Lady Bridgerton, it was just a childish infatuation on my part,” you say “I believe Anthony has his eyes set elsewhere right now”

Violet raised an eyebrow at your comment, her expression thoughtful. “Perhaps, but you’d be surprised how easily one’s eyes can be redirected when the right person is in view.”

Benedict chuckled, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Oh, this is far more entertaining than I anticipated. Please, do carry on.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating faster than ever. “I assure you, Benedict, there is nothing to carry on about. Anthony and I barely speak, and whatever childish notions I had are long gone.”

“C-colin!” you heard Penelope exclaim, You stood up as the rest of the bridgertons embraced the newly arrived Colin, watching with a smile as they greeted him

“And where, may I ask, is our intrepid viscount?” Colin asked looking around his family

“He is-“ Anthony stepped into view as Lady Bridgerton spoke “back from courting already”

“Colin, you are back, even better” Anthony said as he saw Colin “Family, I would like you all to-“ his eyes met yours, making him go silent

“Y/n…” he spoke “i-I did not know you were here”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, Anthony cleared his throat, his eyes leaving yours “i-I would like you all to ready yourselves for the races today, we will be attending united as one” He finished saying to his family

You stayed next to him as his family went off to get ready “I’ll be there in a bit” you say to Pen as she looked at you expecting to leave, she nodded before she left the room

Your eyes flickered back towards Anthony, finding him looking at you, you smirked “You’ll escort me to the races, won’t you?” you say boldly, having decided to not step aside and instead make your own choices.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed at your boldness, his usual composed demeanor slipping ever so slightly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly weighing his response.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched thin, and you could see the flicker of hesitation in his dark eyes. His gaze shifted briefly toward the door, as though calculating his options.

“I… had intended to accompany my family today as a united front,” he said carefully, his voice measured. “There are certain… expectations that must be upheld.”

You raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Expectations?” you repeated. “Anthony, are you saying that escorting me would somehow disrupt your plans?”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his reluctance palpable. “Not disrupt,” he clarified, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. “It’s simply that…” He trailed off, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Ah. So this was about Edwina. You felt the pieces fall into place with startling clarity. Kate’s refusal to let him court her sister must have spurred Anthony into finding another way to gain the Sharma family’s favor—an approach steeped in duty and strategy, as expected of a viscount.

But you weren’t about to make it easy for him. Especially not after what you had decided and you’d be damned if you were losing without a fight.

“Anthony,” you said, stepping closer so that he couldn’t avoid your gaze. “If your goal is to show yourself as a responsible, family-oriented man, what better way than to escort an old family friend?” You let your tone turn teasing, though your eyes stayed sharp.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse outright. Then, with a soft sigh, he turned back to you. “You do have a way of making things sound entirely reasonable,” he admitted, though his tone lacked its usual confidence.

You smiled triumphantly, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. “Then it’s settled,” you said brightly. “We’ll make quite the impression, won’t we?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flickering briefly toward the door again, as though still calculating his options. But then, he nodded, his movements stiff but resigned. “It would seem so,” he said finally.

As you walked together toward the carriages, you could feel the weight of his hesitation lingering between you. Anthony Bridgerton was a man bound by duty and logic, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a conflict he hadn’t yet resolved.

But that was fine. You weren’t looking for perfection. You were looking for an opportunity to remind him that life didn’t always need to be dictated by duty and expectations. If you were rewriting this story, you weren’t afraid to challenge the characters along the way.

Even if one of those characters was the man you’d been dreaming of for years.

You smiled, satisfied with his answer—for now. Today was only the beginning, after all. If you were going to rewrite the story, you intended to do so on your own terms. And Anthony Bridgerton? Well, he would simply have to keep up.

You looked around the field filled with people with a smile, the sound of horses galloping resounding nearby. Your eyes searched for any familiar face nearby but hard to see with so many people around.

You turned back to look at the man beside you, his eyes searching as well. You held back a scoff as you knew why, “Whatever plan you had for today, it would have only ended up hurting people” You stated, looking back at the field.

Anthony turned to look at you, your arm intertwined between his “What do you mean?” he feigned innocence

You looked at him once again “You mean to tell me you didn’t plan on elaborating a grand scheme so the eldest Sharma would leave you alone with Miss Edwina?”

Anthony’s gaze narrowed slightly, though there was no malice in it. “And what, pray tell, do you think I’m planning?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” you said, glancing toward the arriving carriages. “You intend to use today to make a grand show of your family’s unity and charm, all to prove to the Sharmas that you’re the perfect match for Edwina. Am I close?” You didn’t want to mention his plan to get Thomas Dorset to woo Kate.

His silence was answer enough.

You sighed, releasing his arm as you turned to face him fully. “Anthony, I know you mean well, but this… performance? It’s not going to end the way you hope it will.”

He frowned, his jaw tightening. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re not being honest with yourself,” you said simply. “About what you want.”

His expression darkened, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I am entirely aware of what I want,” he said stiffly.

“Are you?” you challenged, stepping closer. “Because it seems to me you’re more concerned with what you think you should want. There’s a difference, Anthony, and if you don’t figure it out soon, you’re going to hurt a lot of people—including yourself.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you, his gaze locked on yours as if trying to decipher your meaning. For a moment, you thought he might push you away, dismiss you like he did everyone who dared to question him.

But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You make it sound so simple,” he said quietly.

“It’s not,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “But it’s worth it.”

Anthony’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. Then, with a subtle nod, he extended his arm to you once more. “Shall we?”

You smiled, slipping your arm back into his. “Lead the way, Lord Bridgerton.”

As you walked toward the crowd, the weight of your words seemed to settle on him, though he said nothing more. But you could feel it in the way he held himself, in the quiet moments of hesitation that punctuated his otherwise confident demeanor.

“You should let things flow the way they’re supposed to,” you pat his arm “If there are things impeding you to court Miss Edwina…..perhaps you should give up” you say selfishly

Anthony glanced at you, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. “Give up?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “You would have me surrender so easily?”

You met his gaze steadily, though your heart raced at your boldness. “Not easily, Anthony. But if you’re only pursuing her because you think it’s the right thing to do, rather than what you truly want, then yes. Why waste your time—and hers—on something that isn’t real?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d pushed too far. But then he sighed, the tension in his features softening ever so slightly. “You speak as though you know my heart better than I do.”

“Perhaps I do,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Or perhaps I just see things more clearly because I’m not the one caught in the middle of it.”

Anthony didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the lively crowd ahead of you. The sounds of laughter, conversation, and the occasional cheer for a victorious horse filled the air. You could see his family mingling in the distance, their bright smiles a sharp contrast to the weight of the conversation between you.

“And what about you?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now. “You speak of honesty, yet you remain shrouded in mystery. What is it that you truly want?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you faltered. How could you explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had brought you to this point? How could you tell him that you weren’t just another Featherington, but someone who had seen his story unfold in ways he couldn’t possibly understand?

“I…” You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the ground. “I want to live a life that feels real. Not one dictated by expectations or duty, but one where I can make my own choices. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Anthony studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, he shook his head. “You’re a peculiar woman, Y/N Featherington.”

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with relief. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You looked at him “Besides…. I’m already fighting for what I want” there was something unreadable in your eyes as you looked at him

Anthony’s smile faltered ever so slightly as your words hung in the air, their weight settling between you like an unspoken challenge. His dark eyes flickered over your face, searching for something—clarity, perhaps, or reassurance—but all he found was a quiet determination that seemed to unnerve him.

“Fighting for what you want?” he repeated, his voice careful, measured. “And what is it, exactly, that you want, Miss Featherington?”

You tilted your head slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk gracing your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The teasing lilt in your voice did little to ease the tension that had crept into the conversation. Anthony’s hand shifted subtly where it rested on yours, as though he were considering letting go. His usual air of control seemed to waver, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his expression—unease, perhaps, or uncertainty.

“Miss Featherington,” he began, his tone carrying the weight of a man accustomed to steering conversations in his favor, “it is not often I find myself at a loss for words, but you seem intent on ensuring I remain so today.”

You chuckled softly, though your gaze remained steady on his. “Perhaps that’s because you’re not used to being challenged, my lord.”

Anthony’s brows furrowed, and he looked away briefly, his gaze scanning the crowd as if seeking an escape. When he looked back at you, his composure was intact once more, though there was a faint crease in his brow that betrayed his lingering nervousness.

“You speak with remarkable confidence,” he said, his voice cooler now, as though attempting to regain the upper hand. “But confidence can be a dangerous thing when wielded carelessly.”

“Only to those unprepared to face it,” you countered smoothly, the edge in your tone softened by a smile. “But don’t worry, Lord Bridgerton. I have no intention of unsettling you—too much, at least.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze dropping briefly to the ground before meeting yours again. “You have an uncanny ability to make a man question himself,” he admitted, his voice low. “I wonder if that is your intention.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “And if it were?”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions neither of you dared to name. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh.

“Then I suppose I must brace myself,” he said, his tone laced with reluctant amusement.

You smiled, your grip on his arm tightening ever so slightly. “Good. You’ll need it.” You say “Just like you’ll need it when I say that High Flyer will be the winner today and the horse you bet on, Nectar, will not” you smirk

Anthony stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look at you with an expression of mild disbelief. His brows arched, and for a moment, his usual composed demeanor gave way to something closer to exasperation.

“You’re challenging my judgment on horses now?” he asked, his tone laced with incredulity.

“Perhaps,” you replied breezily, your smirk widening. “High Flyer has a higher chance to win, the track is soft and hot thus Nectar will have a great disadvantage as he’s not as swifter and lighter as High Flyer. A rather unfortunate trait for a racehorse, wouldn’t you agree?” you use your knowledge of this episode

Anthony blinked at you, his lips parting slightly as he processed your words. “You’ve been studying the horses?”

“Is that so surprising?” you teased, tilting your head. “I’m merely preparing for the inevitable moment when you’ll have to admit I was right.”

His gaze narrowed, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “You’re rather confident for someone who has yet to see the race.”

“Confidence, as you’ve pointed out, can be a dangerous thing,” you said, echoing his earlier words with a mischievous glint in your eye. “But I’m willing to take my chances.”

Anthony shook his head, though he couldn’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Very well, Miss Featherington. If you’re so certain of your prediction, perhaps we should make this more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Are you proposing a wager, Lord Bridgerton?”

“I am,” he said, his voice gaining a touch of his usual commanding confidence. “If High Flyer wins, I will publicly admit my error—and you may choose a forfeit for me, within reason.”

“And if Nectar wins?” you asked, folding your arms as you regarded him with playful suspicion.

He looked in thought for a minute “Then you will meet me tomorrow morning when you come to my home with your sister” he said smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “Just the two of us. No Penelope. No excuses.”

The boldness of his proposal took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words, feeling your breath catch in your throat. But then you smiled, the thrill of the challenge sparking in your chest.

“Very well, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, extending your hand to him. “You have yourself a wager.”

He clasped your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Then may the best horse—and the best gambler—win.”

As the two of you continued toward the racetrack, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration. This wasn’t just a wager; it was a game, a dance, a challenge—and neither of you intended to back down.

“You were saying?” you turned to look at the viscount smug as High Flyer won first place in the race

Anthony’s expression was unreadable at first, his gaze fixed on the racetrack where High Flyer had just thundered across the finish line. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the Viscount’s focus remained solely on you.

“I believe I was saying something about confidence,” he murmured, though there was a faint edge of resignation in his voice. His eyes flicked back to yours, narrowing slightly at the smug smile that curved your lips.

“You were,” you said, tilting your head. “Something about it being dangerous, wasn’t it? It seems my confidence wasn’t misplaced after all.”

Anthony exhaled sharply, though you couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh of defeat. “It seems not,” he conceded, his tone reluctant. “I suppose I owe you my public admission of error.”

“Oh, there’s no need for dramatics, my lord,” you said, feigning modesty. “A simple acknowledgment that I was right will suffice.”

He arched a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he were fighting a smile. “Very well,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “Miss Featherington, you were right. High Flyer was indeed the better horse today.”

Your grin widened, your victory made all the sweeter by his reluctant but good-natured capitulation. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering so that only you could hear. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a glint of mischief. “But don’t forget—this means you’ll have to endure my chosen forfeit.”

Anthony’s smile finally broke free, a rare and genuine thing that made your heart skip a beat. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “And I’ll face it with as much grace as I can muster.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the lively crowd around you fading into the background. There was a spark between you, unspoken but undeniable, a sense that this was more than just a game.

“Well then,” you said, breaking the spell. “I look forward to seeing how well you handle it, my lord.”

Anthony chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “And I, Miss Featherington, look forward to our morning meeting—when Nectar’s loss will no longer matter.”

His words left you breathless, your retort caught in your throat as he offered you his arm once more. “Uh, you lost, how is the meeting still in place when I won?” you asked

Anthony smirked, his expression that of a man who had been waiting for this exact question. “Ah,” he said, his tone deceptively casual, “but the terms of our wager never explicitly stated that the meeting would be void if High Flyer won. I simply said I would admit my error. And I did.”

Your eyes narrowed, your hand tightening slightly on his arm. “That’s not how wagers work, Lord Bridgerton,” you countered, though there was a flicker of amusement in your tone. “You can’t twist the terms to suit your convenience.”

“Twisting?” he echoed, his smirk growing. “Not at all. I am merely exercising the same cleverness you demonstrated in predicting the race. Surely, you wouldn’t begrudge me that?”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed the urge to smile.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he replied smoothly, his gaze flicking to yours with a glint of challenge.

You let out a soft huff, trying to suppress the fluttering sensation in your chest. “Fine,” you relented. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook for losing.”

Anthony chuckled, his voice low and warm. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Featherington. I’ll accept whatever forfeit you impose. But I do hope you’ll keep it… reasonable.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said with mock seriousness, pretending to consider all the humiliating possibilities.

As you walked together, the playful banter between you was laced with an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You might have won the wager, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Anthony had been the winner in the end.

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

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[stellaclaw]

i can see your perspective, and to some extent i do agree. some of my favorite character in other fandoms are villains (something i have actually been attacked over lol).

when i say the books lack complexity, i dont mean the building blocks arent there. however, it needs to be heavily contextualized in that the writers often discard what they have- bonefall found an excellent basis the writers had set, but in crowfeathers trial, its often been noted that breezepelts edges are sanded down to make him more agreeable, and thus give an “easier” version to forgive- indeed, what we see of him in dovewings silence is very inconsistent from crowfeathers trial, and his arc is wrapped up rather abruptly and not even from his pov, when it really, truly should have been to give it a satisfying ending. furthermore, when crowfeather blames nightcloud for breezepelt hating him, we are to some extent supposed to accept that nightcloud was a problem. in the guide books shes described as jealous and bitter and coddling, and even on the official website she is assigned adjectives, and thus we are to assume her defending breezepaw from his father is bad and she had some hand in how he turned out.

the reason warriors is loved is because the pieces are there. but the writers continually neglect them, and in the end water down their own writing. breezepelt is one of the very few cases i mentioned where the set up is good enough that it can still shine while the landing was fumbled.

its why i have such trouble giving such leniency to appledusk. there is a trend in the books of such things, and so it is natural to become skeptical of the writers intentions, which im sure is something you can understand.

i can fully accept people wanting to see complexity in appledusk, and hes probably a character i would like in a “messy guy” sort of way, but there is a problem in parts of the fandom where people defend his cheating (usually by portraying mapleshade as a “buff scary woman” and depicting him as small and frail, and positioning reedshine, who he also deceived, as a therapist to him). maybe i can like him some day (i am number 1 frecklewish fan yes she did those bad things and it just adds flavor to her), but ive personally dealt with that sort of… gestures vaguely.

also dw about rambling lol i had no idea where i was going either. also didnt mean to assume, i spent a lot of time in the wcrp forums so my brain is just kind of attuned to read into things. that being said i responded calmly because i do not like to assume actual malice, doing so just makes a meaner fandom space and also prevents interesting discussions like this.

anyway if people are allowed to make excuses for bramblestar and fucking appledusk, I should also get to say that nightcloud did nothing wrong