#i wrote this in a bit of a daze at like two in the morning

[levuna]

So everyone’s talking about the Goncharov main theme, but how about the music from the farewell scene?

[palajae]

bfb. (my best friend’s brother is the one for me!)

PAIRING... best friend’s brother!riki x reader | GENRE... dancer! au, romance, humor, fluff, a flirty riki and down bad reader | WC... 2.1k | inspired by best friend’s brother by victorious (if you couldn’t tell already lmao)

wrote this at 2am in celebration of 1000 posts wtf 

the first nishimura you met and befriended was actually sola. the first day you joined lead entertainment all those years ago, the bright and bubbly girl was the one who greeted you and showed you around. 

“oh, and this is my sister konon!” 

your eyes widen at the sight of the sweaty, yet still gorgeous girl coming out of the practice room. by the looks of it, you assumed she had just finished leading a class. 

immediately, the resemblance hit you. the nishimura girls were both beautiful and talented. 

konon tilts her head at you, guzzling down water. 

“so you’re the newbie.” 

you nod, “nice to meet you. i watched a bit of your class and you were incredible.”

“could say the same here.” when your eyes widen, a bit taken aback, she explains herself. 

“saw your first class earlier today. not bad, for a beginner. you could work on your facials, though.”

you raise an eyebrow, “is that just constructive criticism or an offer to teach me?” 

konon shrugs as sola giggles, “whatever you want it to be.” you both then share a smile. you instantly knew you two were going to get along well. 

for the next couple of weeks, you spent a lot of time with konon. not just dancing, but also bonding to the point you considered her your best friend. she taught you a lot more about the performance aspect of dancing, which you greatly appreciated. honestly, konon was mesmerizing both on and off the stage. 

“wanna sleepover?” konon asks after a particularly long session. “my parents probably won’t be back since they have to close up the studio, so you can come over to my place.” 

“wait a second, your parents own the company?!”

“oh y/n,” konon shakes her head sympathetically, “there’s a lot you don’t know.” 

and right she was. you had absolutely no idea that the nishimura girls had, in fact, another sibling. 

a brother. 

freshly showered, you gasp in awe while admiring the nishimura residence. it was clean with those sleek modern vibes, and not to mention filled with countless dancing awards that you assumed came from the girls. 

as konon leads you up the stairs, she tells you to wait outside her door. “it’s a bit messy…” 

you roll your eyes, telling her that you don’t mind, but she protests nonetheless. while waiting, you explore the hall. most of the room doors were closed, but a faint sound coming from one of the rooms catches your attention. 

it sounded like, someone yelling? they had a remarkably deep voice, like they were a guy-

“y/n!” konon hisses and you jump, turning around. “what are you doing? get in here!”

finally seeing her room distracts you, as you momentarily forget about the noise coming from down the hall. 

you had stayed up rather (very) late with konon, yapping the night away. not expecting to stay over, you didn’t bring anything. at some point, you begin to shiver. “it’s kinda cold,” you whine. 

in a sleepy daze, konon goes out of the room and retunes with a random hoodie.  

she throws it at your face, in which you grunt a thanks. 

“why is it so freaking huge,” you yawn while shoving it over your head. she mutters something random while plopping onto the bed, leaving the both of you to pass out contentedly. 

the next morning, you groan as you wake up. konon was still snoring away, so you decided to quietly go downstairs and grab a glass of water. 

the whole house still seemed quiet, so you assumed her parents and sister were still sleeping as well. they knew you stayed the night, right? 

carefully grabbing a glass, you pour yourself some water and gulp it down with a satisfied sigh. turning around, you’re about to head back up when you almost bump into a body. 

your eyes fly open in surprise as your water slightly spills over you and… him?

the first thought in your head is that—

crap, this guy is ridiculously handsome. and tall. 

you gape, pointing a finger at the stranger although you know it’s rude. 

“who are you?”

he squints back, “what are you doing in my house?” 

the situation you were currently in was so unexpected that you remain speechless for a moment. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,“ you splutter. 

he crosses his arms, studying you from head to toe before he smirks. you swallow uncomfortably, feeling a little too warm. 

“konon invited me over!” you manage to spit out, mirroring his actions by crossing your arms too. 

“sure. i guess that means you’re allowed to steal other people’s clothes as well?” 

you tilt your head in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he only chuckles, making you feel even more flustered. “answer my question!”

he takes a step closer and you force yourself to stand your ground and not take one back. “which one?” 

his voice is so deep that you shiver. then it hits you—he must’ve been the one you heard yesterday night down the hall! 

“b-both,” you mumble while looking away. just as he opens his mouth, about to answer, you hear konon’s voice sleepily calling out your name. 

“you’re up already?” she yawns as she pads down the stairs. you furrow your eyebrows, glancing from the strangely familiar tall stranger to konon, then back to him, and finally back to her. 

your mouth drops agape. 

“don’t tell me-!” 

“oh, you didn’t know riki was my brother?”

you want to die of embarrassment. not only were you clueless about the fact that a nishimura riki did indeed exist, you were really done dirty by konon. 

how were you supposed to know that the hoodie you ‘borrowed’ actually belonged to aforementioned person? 

how did you not even know konon and sola had a brother? neither sister had ever brought him up before and you had never seen him around the company because oh, you would have remembered a face like that. 

your face burned, mortified, as you brought the washed hoodie back to konon. 

“could you return this to your…brother?”

“shouldn’t you do it yourself, considering you were the one who wore it?” she snickers as you complain endlessly.

“you gave it to me, so i thought it was yours!” you groan while rubbing a hand over your face in frustration. 

“don’t worry about it. riki is chill, especially since you guys are around the same age.” 

great. how were you going to face her unfortunately, really stupidly super cute brother?  

she tells you what room he’s practicing in, and you despise how your heart is pounding as you make your way over. 

since you hear music still playing, you decide to wait patiently outside for him to finish. you figure there was probably no harm in peeking through the windows while you waited. 

you were wrong. your mouth literally dries up at the sight in front of your eyes. 

life was unfair. not only was riki blessed with good looks, he was also an incredible dancer? obviously, you should’ve expected no less from the nishimuras. 

when the music stops, you take a deep breath and knock. to your surprise, the door almost immediately opens. 

the sight of a sweaty and breathless riki is almost too much for you to handle. 

“hi,” you say meekly. internally, you face palm. just being around him caused your brain to shut down.

“hey. enjoy the show?”

“what?” your head snaps up, flustered. 

riki laughs before opening the door and letting you in. “i was just joking.”

“oh… well, i wanted to give this back to you.”

he looks down at the bag held out to him. 

“it’s washed,” you add hastily, “thanks for letting me wear your hoodie without permission, i guess.”

“no problem. it looked better on you than me, anyway.”

oh no. your heart definitely skipped a beat. 

seeing your reaction, riki reaches over to ruffle your hair. 

“you’re cute.”

you? cute? riki? his smile? adorable? 

“y/n? are you alright? why did you come here?”

“huh? what?” you finally snap to your senses. 

you don’t even realize where you are until sola is waving a hand in front of your face. after riki’s words, you definitely spaced out. how did you even get here, about to enter the youth group’s class?

she watches you worriedly. “you were walking down the hall like a zombie. did something happen?”

your mouth opens, but you aren’t able to formulate a response. yes-but no, not really - you don’t even know yourself. 

instead, you choose to place your hands on her shoulders and sigh pitifully. “you nishimuras are going to be the death of me…”

after that day, every encounter with the menace that is nishimura riki only makes your life harder. 

much harder in the sense that you just want to shut him up with a kiss. his nonstop flirting made you wonder if he was born like this. i mean, everyone at the studio knew he was handsome. 

girls would whisper and flirt with him whenever he stepped into the studio. and yet, he rejected their advances and seemed disinterested. riki only acted crazy, well, in front of you. 

when you tried to bring it up discreetly to konon, she simply snorted. 

“riki’s used to the attention. it doesn’t phase him anymore. he’s like a little kid. he doesn’t care—i think he’s just not interested in anyone.” 

except, riki wasn’t like that around you. he was sweet, offering you water when no one else was around. he left snacks and silly notes in your dance locker. he would make funny faces and wink at you when his sisters weren’t looking.

it almost made you delusional. like maybe he… reciprocated your feelings? 

you hated keeping all your feelings suppressed, all behind konon’s back. still, you always asked to come over to her house when you knew riki was there. 

you couldn’t get him out of your mind. your best friend, konon’s, brother. if only they weren’t related. then nishimura riki would be the one for you. 

“i’m gonna go use the restroom.”

konon hums as you leave to go out into the hall with purposefully loud steps. you hold your breath, praying that you’ll ‘run into’ riki somehow. you knew exactly which room was his, so you could only hope he came out at the exact moment you did. 

he doesn’t. deflated, you quietly tip toe over to his room, placing an ear to the door. 

you listen, hoping to hear some noise. it’s awfully quiet, maybe he’s not in his room-

whoosh! 

the door swings open and suddenly, you gasp as you’re dragged in. riki sneakily closes the door as you’re stunned by the latest sequence of events, almost jumping out of your skin.  

how in the world did you end up in riki’s room, with him, 

alone?

“riki-“

he shushes you by pushing his finger to your lips. goosebumps appear on your arm, simply by his touch. you didn’t even realize that his other hand was still holding onto yours. 

“eavesdropping, were you?” 

he renders you speechless. you really didn’t have an excuse… 

he grins, “or were you just hoping to bump into me?”

you mumble something random, embarrassed. 

“don’t worry, i was hoping to get you alone too.” 

your eyes flick up to him, before you sigh and pull your arm out of his warm grasp. “do you really wanna know why? it’s because i can’t keep wondering.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean this,” you gesture outwards, “i can’t keep wondering about this-us- because…”

“because?” he gazes at you with adoration evident. you squint. 

oh, he knows. at that point, you realize he‘s known. riki has known for a long time, maybe even since the beginning. 

at this point, it’s too late. nothing else to do but swallow your pride. you stand up straight, biting your lips.  

“is it wrong for me to say that, i like you? like, a lot?” 

riki says nothing for a moment, which only serves to makes you panic. if you just made a huge mistake and misread all of his signals-

“honestly, i always liked you.”

your breath hitches. he shrugs, looking almost shy himself for the first time in front of you. 

“i noticed you on your first day. i just didn’t know you grew that close to my sister.” 

suddenly, riki leans in as if he’s about to kiss you. you quickly stop him by holding onto his broad shoulders. 

you swallow, searching his eyes. 

“but what about konon?”

he seems annoyed at the mention of his sister. “what about her?”

“you’re my best friend’s brother!”

riki simply smiles cheekily while leaning in, “she doesn’t have to know.” 

when your lips meet, you can’t help but smile. it felt so right, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up by your waist. 

it seems like your best friend’s brother really was the one for you. 

a/n ▸ you know i had to for my 1000th post since riki is so bfb coded <333  

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[eunimaybe]

✧ — who’s that girl dancing on the ice?

figureskater!sunghoon x fem. reader | sunghoon sees a mystery girl dancing on the ice

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, skating au | wc. 1.5k a/n: i was giggling my ass off as i wrote this enjoy <3

[entry 01 : october 2nd]

there’s just something about you that makes park sunghoon pause on the ice to watch. perhaps it’s your graceful movements, or the serenity that surrounds you. it’s his first time seeing you - you’ve seemingly just appeared in his life, finding your way into his daily routine. as he watches you glide away on the surface of the cold ice, your skates leaving a faint trail behind like you do with your presence, sunghoon wonders. who’s that girl dancing oh so beautifully on the ice? — more under cut!!

once again, sunghoon can’t seem to tear his eyes off you - he’s been eyeing you for some time now. he sees you on the rink everyday, yet you two have never talked. just the silent exchange of each other’s presence in the cold air. sunghoon finds himself trying to cross paths more often without realising when not a single word is exchanged.

[entry 02 : october 3rd]

today is different though. sunghoon has been observing you for some time now, watching you attempt to land a particularly tricky jump. even though you fail multiple times, you laugh it off, a glow in your eyes. sunghoon wonders how you’re still laughing it off. that’s far too many falls to be able to keep your temper. still, you’re getting frustrated. one can’t keep a smile on their face forever.

“you’re, um, you’re landing is a bit sloppy,”

you turn, your eyes meeting the owner of the voice: sunghoon.

sunghoon thinks you have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, so very full of a youthful sparkle and dreams. he has to shake himself out of a daze when your eyes meet with his. it’s the first time you two looked at each other like that.

“am i?” you ask, a small smile tugging on your lips.

your voice is pretty too. soft and gentle like a melody. sunghoon has to listen carefully to hear you, keep his focus if he doesn’t want the wind and other noises sweeping your voice away.

“yes,” he says, his words seemingly stuck in his throat. “and you could start the jump a little better so that you can execute the jump fully instead of having only three fourth of a rotation.”

he watches you stare at him with your deep eyes, your expression a mix of amusement, curiosity and wonder.

“show me.”

just two words, barely audible in the gaping rink, but it leaves sunghoon breathless. how can someone be this beautiful?

sunghoon shows you, just like you asked, turning in the air and landing gracefully on the ice. he can feels your gaze on him, and when you give him a smile, he feels himself melting despite the cold air.

sunghoon doesn’t even know your name, but he thinks you’re absolutely breathtaking.

[entry 03 : october 4th]

since sunghoon taught you how to land your jump yesterday, you’ve been getting it perfectly almost every single time. each time you land it, sunghoon smiles to himself at the thought that he’s been a help to you.

you’re at the rink once again, practising alone in the early hours of the morning when the rink is still fairly empty. you’re wearing a skirt despite the cold, and sunghoon can’t help but notice the bruises on your legs from the falls you experience everyday, some of them fresh purple and blues and some fading away.

as he skates by you on the rink, he reaches out to brush his thumb on the back of your hand. it’s hesitant, the touch disappearing almost as quickly as it came. it leaves you staring at sunghoon, the memory of his warm hand on your cold ones still clouding your senses. neither of you talk, but the silence is comfortable, the only noise audible being the scraping of your skates.

it only occurs to sunghoon after you two parted that he still doesn’t know your name.

[entry 04 : october 6th]

“when did you start skating?”

you and sunghoon are sitting together on the benches at the sidelines, resting. you’re warming yourself with a heating pack, holding it in your hands as if it’s something precious. sunghoon finally knows your name: y/n. it’s pretty, just like you, and has a nice ring to it.

“when i was three or four, i think,” you reply, your voice a musical hum. you slide your fingers against the cold blade of your skate, getting rid of the thin sheet of ice. “i wanted to be a competitive figure skater but i couldn’t.”

“why not?”

“ankle injury. fell the wrong way when i was fourteen.”

sunghoon doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. he’s embarrassed, he’s probably supposed to comfort you, but you appreciate his silence. you don’t want any empty “i’m sorry”s and “oh, that’s really sad to hear”s.

when you give sunghoon a little smile of appreciation, a silent thank you, he feels something unfurling.

and he doesn’t know what to do about the unfamiliar tug in his chest.

[entry 05 : october 9th]

neither of you have many words, but both of you still find comfort in each other.

sunghoon’s favourite moments are the rare occasions when you talk about something you like.

rambling quietly about random topics. it doesn’t matter what you’re talking about, sunghoon will listen to you. whether it be about skating, school, out of place sentences regarding philosophy, he’ll listen and remember. he likes it when you talk, he likes the sparkles that appear into your eyes. you like to talk to him about plants, something you’ve put your time into after giving up your skating dreams.

one day, sunghoon brings you a bouquet of lily of the valleys.

“you- you told me it was your favourite.” sunghoon murmurs, his face slightly pink.

you take the bouquet from him, touched that he remembers. you bring the flowers to your nose, inhaling the fresh and sweet scent. sunghoon watches your eyes flutter close, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

after a moment, you open your eyes once more and look at sunghoon. you’ve decided that he’s your favourite person. you like how hard he tries for his skating career, you appreciate him remembering the details of your conversations, how real he is.

“thank you, sunghoon.”

you calling sunghoon by his name has some kind of impact on him. he looks away, staring at empty space.

[entry 06 : october 10th]

you two hold hands as you dance on the ice, scraping of blades against the surface rhythmic. it seems so old fashioned, but there’s a strange feeling of nostalgia and contentment that has settled in your chest for the first time in ages.

sunghoon can’t help but look your way every now and then, continuously distracted by your face, your voice, the fact he’s holding your hand. you give off the feeling of a dream, beautiful in a way that’s hard to explain. it almost feels like you’re standing at the brink of fantasy and reality, unsure of where to be swept to. your eyes are thoughtful and always far away but never distant and your voice the sound that sunghoon didn’t think a human being could make. so, so beautiful. he could listen to you till he was on his deathbed.

sunghoon twirls you on the rink, and you spin gracefully, skates making circles on the ice. you let out a little laugh, and the happy sound fills sunghoon with happiness. you never falter between your jumps and turns and spins, landing with barely a noise.

sunghoon just watches you with utter adoration.

[entry 07: october 14th]

you kissed sunghoon for the first time.

you were at a nearby cafe together, and you leaned over the table between you to give him a gentle peck on the lips. it was fast and sweet, neither of you brave enough to do anything else than the short peck. you watched sunghoon’s eyes widen and his cheek turn pick, and you laughed silently. you covered your face with your hands until sunghoon pried your fingers open to meet your eyes, his orbs the shade of melted chocolate. he gets you to drop your hands, and he kisses you one more time. this time the kiss lingers for a few seconds, and you smile against his lips, savouring the moment.

perhaps you love him.

sunghoon loves you as well.

[entry 08 : october 21st]

your days spent with sunghoon are slow and sweet, filled with stolen kisses and deep conversations in the early mornings when it’s still dark outside.

sunghoon’s now part of the beautiful dancing mystery girl’s life. he knows not only your identity, but your deepest secrets. his love for you is unconditional and never ending, just like how the ice stayed frozen in the rink even in the hottest days of july.

sunghoon now knows the mystery girl who

was dancing oh so beautifully on the ice.

[melanated-writersblock]

(O.M.G.P) One Month Grace Period

Toji x Chubby/Plus-Size!Black!Female!Reader

~No Nut November is over, and Toji couldn’t think of anything more exciting than turning you into his free use slut to bring in the new month😘

A/N & Warnings: I’M SORRY YALL I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE STORY IT IS LONG AS FUCK!!! But it’s not just porn with no plot!!! (For those of you that aren’t just in it to get mentally dicked down, I wrote a prologue! The link is below and can be read before you start this fic!)

LIKES ARE COOL, BUT COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE BETTER! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO DON’T COPY MY SHIT. I WILL KNOW.

Content: Multi-sex scenes, praise/degradation, free-use so dub-con, Oral (f receiving), a small bit of spit kink in there, fingering, shower sex, couch sex, kitchen sex, bedroom sex, unprotected sex, What did NLE Choppa say? MEAT TO MEAT! WALL TO WALL! COOCHIE TO MY BALLS!🗣️ (18+ MDNI)

SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: Freaky Bih from Da A - Louisvt, Fuck The World - Brent Faiyaz, What You Need - Don Toliver, 2AM - SZA, Ambré’s Interlude - Destin Conrade, Animosity/ Dear Xodi - Johnny Rain

Prologue - November 30th

December 1st

12:45 AM.

Your thighs quivered as Toji pounded into you relentlessly, the lewd sound of skin slapping as his precum mixed with your wetness filled the room. It felt too good, you didn’t know whether to scream or just shut up and take it. Between Toji having one arm over you bracing the headboard and the other pushing your thighs back, knees near your chest, you felt yourself getting a little too close. “Oooh- Toji, I’m gonna….oh fuuuhhhkkk~” Toji chuckled at your mewling, “Look at you, only 45 minutes in and you’re ready to cum on my cock like a greedy little slut.” His pace slowed, almost painfully. “I didn’t give you permission to do that just yet, Princess.”Watching his girth slide in and out of you, Toji brings two fingers to the base of his dick where your cream spills out with each thrust and sucks his fingers clean. You can’t help but moan at the sight of something so sinful yet passionate, you clench around him as his slow pace persists. Too far gone and busy chasing ecstasy, you didn’t notice Toji move his arm from gripping the headboard to cradle the back of your head as he leaned his weight into you, with his mouth next to your ear. “Yeahhh you’re clenching around me so tight, you’re such a fucking slut. Taking this dick like the good little bitch you are, you’re so fucking wet for me.” “Unnnhhh~” “Ooohhh, yeah. Yeah?” “Yes-yes-yes~fuccck!” “Come on Baby, I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me~” “Toji don’t make me……fuck…….please…..Toji pleaseee~” His pace picks up, “How hard was that, Hmm? You’re too shy to ask me to cum but you’re making a mess on my cock with no problem.” As his thrusts get harder he cradles your head, blocking it from hitting the headboard, his fingers weaving through your box braids, your floral bonnet long gone, thrown somewhere on the nightstand. You hold onto his sturdy arms for some sort of anchor, as you feel your soul quite literally about to leave your body. You let the sudden wave of pleasure take over your body as you shudder, mouth open, screaming vulnerably, eyes closed, with tears brimming. “Yesss, cum for me, give it to me, give it to me. Ohhhh, Good Girl!”

9:19 AM.

“Ah fuckkkk, that’s it~” Toji hoisted you against the tiled shower wall with your full legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you, the supple flesh of your ass moving with ease as he guides you onto him, the steam of the hot shower shrouding the entire bathroom in a thick fog. Your morning routine took a turn when your shower time got sabotaged by Toji and his morning wood. So here you were, getting lifted up and impaled on his dick like you weighed absolutely nothing. Still dazed from the midnight session, the pleasure was intense, and you were honestly, still kinda sensitive. You leaned your back against the warm tiles and pushed your hands on his sculpted chest to brace yourself and lessen the force of the thrusts, but each time you’d lean against the wall he would lean back so your full weight was on him and your breasts were flush against his chest. Despite your voluptuous stature, he was able to manhandle you and throw you around like a simple bag of sugar. One of his many redeeming qualities, and admirable…..but not in this situation. “Come on Baby, you were being so good for me earlier. You sensitive?” You couldn’t speak, and he knew it. Toji got off at the thought of you still being fucked out and a moaning mess. It haunted his dreams all November. Imagining how many ways he could make you cum on him, scream and writhe in pleasure, all while he’s still chasing his first high.

12:04 PM.

You knew the kitchen incident would have to be addressed at some point, but this isn’t how you expected it to go. “Move your fucking hand.” “Toji pleaseeee, you’re gonna make me cum again~” “That’s the whole point, now move your hand and keep your legs open.” You were in the process of making lunch because you and Toji agreed that you both were hungry, but apparently you weren’t on the same page. Toji made quick work of lifting you onto the kitchen counter and throwing your thighs over his shoulders before going to town. Looking down at him from your seated position, his tousled black hair visible as he laps up your juices. “You taste so fucking good Princess~” Toji was wearing you down, every single word out of his mouth brought you that much closer to your next orgasm, “~Thank you”. He stops for a moment to give you a kiss and you moan, tasting yourself on him. “You’re being so obedient” Toji spits, and the long string of saliva slowly trickles down from your clit to your pussy. You look at him full of awe and arousal at how irrationally hot that little trick was. Laughing at your reaction, he spits on his middle and ring finger before plunging them into your dripping pussy. Starting off slowly in a “come hither” motion, he watches as your eyes roll back at the sensation, using his second hand to toy with your clit. “Aww, my obedient little fuckdoll, looks so cute when she’s gonna cum.” FUCK, you couldn’t take it anymore, he’s too good at this. He didn’t even cum yet!

4:32 PM.

“Shiiiiiit!” You cry into the plush sofa armrest as you make poor attempts to squirm away from Toji’s firm grip on your wide hips as he pulls you back onto him. Your ass ripples as he speeds up his pace at an almost inhuman speed, your whimpering and cries growing louder. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Toji’s brutal pace finally started to falter, something that rarely happens…meaning he’s definitely close. He pulls out, and some of his precum mixed with yours spills out of you. “Not yet Princess, get up for me.” Seeing your dumbstruck state, Toji peels your dazed frame off of the armrest. He sits at the edge of the sofa, legs parted and sits you on top of him with your back to his chest and your legs spread on either side of his. “Theeere we go~”, Toji slides his throbbing dick along your pussy as you shudder, leaning your body back against his in a moment of recovery, resting your head back on his shoulder. He kisses your neck before moving to your ear to whisper, “Here’s what’s gonna happen…I’m gonna finish fucking your brains out, and you’re gonna cum again while I fill you up. Okay?” All you could do was sigh. “Nod, if you understand Princess…” you shake your head subtly still catching yourself. Toji noticed this, and gave you time before snaking his arm around your tummy. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He slides into you, and you cry out, “Shhh, shh, shh, breathe. You’re okay.” His pace starts to pick up, “Ahhhhhhhhh~” “I knowww, Baby, I knowww, Fuck!” Toji’s words started to slur as he continued to fuck you, a creamy mess pooling at his lap as you both began seeing stars, “Fuuhhkkk you look so pretty like this, shit. You want me to cum inside of you, hm? You want me to fill you up? Turn you into my…..fuck…..my little cumdrunk slut?” “Unnnggggg fuck, Toji, Yeeeeesssss~” You couldn’t help yourself as the tears began to fall, you were in too deep (and so was he), and too far gone to know what the fuck was going on anymore. Your climax washed over you like a tsunami….so strong until you didn’t even realize you squirted all over Toji and went unconscious for 10 seconds. Coming to, Toji was already grabbing a blanket and water for you, “Good Girl, you did amazing cumming all over me like that. I’m so proud of you.”. You smiled, nestling into him as you settled down. Finally, a moment of peace. On the verge of nodding off, you couldn’t help but feel a particular unsettled energy. You look at Toji, who seems relaxed…but not the type of relaxed that someone that just had an orgasm should be. “Toji?” “Hm?” “You didn’t finish…did you?” He looks at you with a mischievous grin, “Not one bit.”

This is going to be a looong month.

[calxide]

⸻ SLEEPLESS NiGHTS 💤

kazuha x gn!reader | 500+ words ; no pronouns used for the reader. i, literally, cannot sleep so i wrote this fic pls help. written in lowercase. not proofread pls just let me sleep already. words: milk, punch are mentioned. sleeping tgt. god when will i have this. just pure fluff, some brainrot, and definitely no sleep for me.

“i can't sleep.”

it's past two in the morning, yet here you are, standing in front of a dazed, closed-eyed kazuha — a plushie in your arms, blanket on your shoulders, and an oversized pajama.

kazuha tried his best to force his eyes open. but he fails, so he just sends you a smile.

“come in.” kazuha almost hit his head on the doorframe when he turned around to make way for you to get in.

you plopped yourself comfortably on his sofa. “sorry, i had a terrible sleeping schedule last week. now, i can't get it out of my system.”

you've been pulling all-nighters last week because of the hell-stack of schoolworks you had to do, and now, you couldn't bring yourself to sleep, so you decided it's best to show up at your best friend's door at 2 am since you live in the same building anyway.

kazuha chuckled and went to the kitchen. “milk?”

“sure… i'll take anything to make me pass out.”

“a punch then?” he joked.

“why not?”

a few minutes later, he comes back with two glasses of milk in his hands. “here you go, sleepyhead.”

“you're the sleepy one here, dummy.”

“fake it til you make it, they say,” he joked and took a sip from his glass.

as soon as you both finished drinking, kazuha offered to bring it in the sink. after a while, he came back with a blanket enough to fit you two in—enough to cover the sofa you were sitting on.

you raised an eyebrow as if asking what's his plan for the night. kazuha simply shrugged, sat beside you again and covered you.

the blanket was fluffy. it was warm to be under the blanket, and even warmer with kazuha by your side.

you noticed him drifting off. kazuha has been a victim of your sleepless nights for quite awhile now, but he doesn't seem to mind. sometimes he'd ask you to tell him stories so your problems would come off your chest, sometimes he'd be the one to tell tales for you to fall asleep.

but tonight, kazuha's clearly tired, he's completely dozing off. his head was hanging and you're worried he might actually fall off the sofa.

“you can sleep on my shoulder, you know,” you whispered your offer. “or like, just lay your head on the sofa.”

without thinking much, kazuha immediately made himself comfortable using your shoulder as his pillow. you wondered if he had forgotten you were the one who he was supposed to help fall asleep.

although, you don't really mind. sometimes, it's not bad to lend a shoulder to a friend, literally.

you and kazuha just stayed like that for who knows how long — it was quiet, the comforting kind, with the only source of noise coming from the air-conditioner.

you examined his peaceful sleeping face. kazuha looked beautiful as he always does.

you smiled as you felt your heart flutter. ah, silly thoughts.

“good night, kazu,” you mumbled.

you planted a kiss on kazuha's hair, then laid your head on top of his. yawning, you finally felt the melatonin kicking in. and so, you drifted off to dreamland.

kazuha shifted his position a bit and smiled as if he was dreaming. “sweet dreams, y/n.”

NOTE hello hahahahaha 5 months in in 2024 and im back just because my eyebags are insanely bad and i havent had an 8-hour sleep since god knows when (exaggerated but u get my point) plzzz wait for me school is almost done. thanks hope i can fall asleep now... p.s. i havent written anything for so long now so i apologize...

[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool��� part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with:

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

[solomons-poison]

Overworked

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: Uhhhh inspired by some history of burn out at work... >>; and just general issues with perfectionist ideas. Honestly, this has been in my drafts for nearly two years now. I was unhappy with how it sounded, but much like the message in this piece, I realized I need to be okay with less-than-perfect things. So cleaned it up a little bit and here you go. Written and edited on mobile so please excuse any formatting issues

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: GN reader, angst to fluff, general insecurities, crying, reader ignoring signs of sickness; Lucifer fluff, no established relationship but Lucifer is very soft on reader~

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 4652

You should have known something was coming on before it got this bad, but unfortunately, you had a bad habit of ignoring body signals, which was ultimately your downfall.

You'd been feeling... off, for the past couple of days. More exhausted than usual, decreased appetite, just generally run down. You often found yourself in a daze, losing concentration on anything that wasn't your work assignments. It didn't help that the coursework at R.A.D. was naturally more difficult for you as a human, dealing with school subjects you never dreamed of or would ever encounter in the human realm. It was also a busy time in the school year, with big exams coming up and the workload increasing in difficulty by the day, so you attributed your exhaustion to this and wrote it off. Of course, by the time you realized what was going on, it was too late. This was mistake #1.

You woke up in the morning to your blaring alarm, feeling tired and sluggish again, and noticed the missed alarms on your phone. Although you occasionally slept through one or two alarms, you almost never slept this late unless you wanted to. But you didn't have time to think about the reasons and rationale on why your body sought so much extra rest. Instead, you pushed yourself through your confusion and sleepiness to get dressed and head down for breakfast as quickly as possible, hoping Lucifer wouldn't punish you too harshly. Mistake #2.

As you started to leave your room, you couldn't help but shiver a little and quickly grabbed a cardigan to wear over your uniform. It wasn't unusual for the air to feel chilly in the Devildom, thanks to the lack of sunlight. However, the chill seemed to be bone-deep this morning, and something in you felt the cardigan was going to be no help. In general, everything in you was screaming to take a day off and rest, but one of your classes had a quiz later that day that you knew you couldn't miss. Once again, you found yourself pushing forward regardless of the glaring warning signs in your peripheral vision.

Mistake #3.

By the time you made it to the dining room, everyone was already seated, including Belphie, a true testament to just how much you overslept. Everyone turned to glance at you except Beel, who was more focused on his food as per usual. Part of your brain noticed Lucifer looking at you a moment longer than the others, but it was forgotten as the second born pointed his fork at you accusingly.

"Finally, human! I thought ya were gonna sleep all day, with your alarm goin' off like that," he said.

"Sorry, Mammon. I guess I must have been sleeping pretty deeply," you replied, smiling sheepishly. You knew he was mostly pulling your leg, but your phone alarms had a tendency to be on the loud side and felt guilty for disturbing any of the brothers with the noise. "I don't even remember going to bed either."

"I don't think that's unusual, I do that all the time," Belphie piped up from down the table, earning pointed looks from the others.

You didn't miss the way the eldest brother's eyes sneaked up to look at you upon hearing your statement, though, clearly studying your face.

"Are you feeling alright, MC? You do seem to look rather tired this morning," Lucifer commented, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

You knew the second you made eye contact you'd be doomed to an interrogation, so you barely spared a glance before training your gaze on your breakfast as you responded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm sure I just stayed up too long studying for this quiz I've got today." But even as you said the words, you knew something wasn't right, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you sat there.

You could feel it in the air that Lucifer was unsatisfied with that answer, but he remained silent and you continued on with your food.

By the time you'd finished your breakfast, only a few brothers remained in the dining room after your late arrival. Beel and Belphie were both there. But strangely enough, it was Lucifer still being there that really confused you, given his penchant for being early to everything. Unfortunately, your fatigue-addled brain simply couldn't put forth the effort to think hard about the reason. The chill from earlier had now settled deep in your bones, and everything about the situation was screaming "wrong!!".

Once again ignoring the strange phenomena, you stood to bring your dishes back to the kitchen, but you were hit almost instantly by a wave of dizziness and shivering, knees buckling and your vision turning dark as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a chair and stayed upright, but all three brothers were instantly on their feet. Lucifer got to you first, his gloved hand gripping your upper arm to steady you further.

"MC! Are you all right? What's wrong?" he questioned, voice rich with concern and a deep frown on his face. Beel and Belphie crowded around, watching you for any risk of falling.

You took a moment to breathe, cold sweat running down your back, fighting hard against the sensations running through your body, and worked up the strength to look up at the first born. "I'm OK. Sorry," you said, smiling shakily, but Lucifer's frown only deepened at your response. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"This is more than fatigue, MC. Are you certain you're not sick?"

You gathered the strength to stand a little taller. As you did, something in the back of your brain was yelling at you again that this was a mistake, to sit back down, to call out sick, rest, anything but go to class. But your stubbornness and anxiety won out, knowing that missing just the one class would really put you behind your studies, and you prided yourself on your ability to work hard on your own. You hadn't spent months of pushing yourself, working overtime and scouring textbook after textbook, to quit now from some measly sickness. Your brain just couldn't rationalize any other way around it.

"Really, Lucifer, I'm OK. You don't need to worry so much—" you managed to say, but as the last words left your mouth, your last bit of strength finally ran out, and a blanket of darkness came down on your vision as you lost consciousness.

“MC–!” “Hey!” Multiple voices called out as you passed out in front of them.

Beel caught your body as you fell back out of Lucifer's hold, and he quickly picked up your legs to hold onto your unconscious body. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin and a sad frown twisted his features.

"I think they have a fever," he said, holding you close to himself, and Belphie leaned in to take a closer look at your face.

Lucifer could feel his face fall at Beel's statement, but steeled himself quickly before either of his brothers could notice. However, all it would take is a closer look to see the worry evident in his dark ruby eyes. He sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as he quickly made up a plan to deal with this new development.

"Beel, could you bring MC up to their room?" Lucifer asked. "I'm going to contact Solomon for some medicine to help with their illness." Beel nodded and started to leave the dining room with you cradled in his arms, Belphie following close behind. However, just before they stepped through the doorway, Lucifer stopped them briefly. "And do not bring this up with the others. If anyone else hears MC is sick, they're all going to leave class to come here and MC needs to rest. I will tell them when it’s appropriate."

He could tell both younger brothers wanted to say something about that, but luckily, they simply nodded and continued on their way. Once he was alone, Lucifer took a moment to himself to stop and breathe, anxiety coursing through his veins at the situation. But he shook it off as best he could before sending a notice out to Solomon, and another notice to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos to alert about your absence. He would have time to fret later, but for now, he needed to focus on you and making sure that you were taken care of. The last thing he needed was to let something terrible happen to one of the human exchange students and possibly disappoint Lord Diavolo… at least, that's what he told himself. But really, he knew it was more than that. Pushing those thoughts away, he shook his head and moved onwards, focusing on the task at hand.

After sending his messages, he quickly gathered some basic supplies, washcloths and a bowl for water to make a cold compress, as well as an extra blanket, and brought them up to your room where Belphie and Beel were waiting. You'd been laid out on your bed covered by a light blanket, your face contorted in discomfort. Lucifer could feel his heart twist in his chest at your visible pain.

"I will take over from here, you can go now," he said, setting down his supplies and removing his cloak.

Belphie frowned, crossing his arms in frustration. "MC is sick, we're not going anywhere. Class can wait–" he started, but Lucifer cut him off with a glare.

"No, you are not staying here," Lucifer said definitively. "MC needs to rest, and they cannot do that with a crowd in the room. Solomon is on his way here with medicine and I will be taking care of them in the meantime."

Belphie practically bristled, the tension in the room almost palpable between the eldest and youngest brothers, but Beel placed a hand on Belphie's shoulder, attempting to calm him down.

"Look, I don't care if you don't attend class today," Lucifer continued, his stress levels exhausting him of energy to fight. "But I want MC to get the rest they need. Until Solomon arrives and we can contact a more knowledgeable physician on human illnesses, we don't know how sick they are. I will keep you updated if anything changes, but for now, you must leave."

Beel and Belphie were silent for a long minute, not breaking eye contact with Lucifer. Eventually, they relented, however, and Belphie sighed, turning away towards the door.

"Fine, we'll go. Come on, Beel," Belphie muttered, going out the door with one last glance to your sleeping form.

Beel started to follow, but turned to Lucifer at the last moment. “We can pick up some food for MC to help them feel better. Would that be okay?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the request before softening, knowing his brothers were simply worried about their precious human. He nodded, and Beel smiled happily. “Yes, that will be fine. I believe easy to eat foods will be best, something to make into a soup or broth. I’ll also ask Solomon for recommendations on human world foods.”

“Awesome, I’ll tell Belphie,” Beel replied, smiling back, and headed out the door.

Now that Lucifer was finally alone with you, he heaved a great sigh that was almost too loud for the sudden silence. He shed his coat, placing it over the chair at your desk, before rolling up his sleeves and removing his gloves. He retrieved some cool water from your bathroom and dipped the washcloth in, then took a seat beside your bed, wringing the washcloth before pressing it to your forehead.

The fever had caused a sweat to break out, and your face was twisted in pain even in your sleep. The sound of your labored breathing weighed heavily on Lucifer's mind. But the cooling effects of the washcloth seemed to alleviate your discomfort a little as your face relaxed, and seeing you a little more comfortable eased the ache in his heart. The weight that had been sitting on his shoulders ever since you fainted lifted a little, giving him the slightest bit of relief, and he turned around to refresh your washcloth.

“Mmm.. Lu..cifer…”

Lucifer’s ears perked up almost embarrassingly fast upon hearing you say his name, and his head whipped around to look at you. However, it was evidently just talking in your sleep as your eyes remained closed and your breathing was even. He reached over to pull the blanket up, tucking you in, and did his best to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Although you two weren't a couple, you still seemed to hold a special place in his heart alongside his brothers. You were family now, but even that word didn't seem sufficient for the way he felt. And seeing you so sick all of a sudden gave him a greater shock than he was prepared for. It was moments like this that he realized how truly mortal you were, that you didn’t recover from sickness the same way Lucifer and his brothers could.

He couldn’t even be sure of what you were sick with. For all he knew, he was overreacting and you were likely fine. But still, the fear of the unknown settled deep in his heart, unable to rest until he could get an answer. For now, all he could do was swallow down his worries and continue on with what he was doing, trying to ignore the desperate aching in his chest.

Half an hour passed before a knock resounded at your bedroom door, and Lucifer okayed entry without taking his eyes off of you. He was settled back in your chair, sleeves still rolled up in an unusual display of casualness, although his crossed arms betrayed his true feelings. Solomon quietly opened the door, peeking his head in before entering, a small satchel in his arms that clinked softly as he moved it. Barbatos had come with him and trailed through silently, letting Solomon take the lead.

“Wow, MC really is sick,” Solomon commented, seeing your quiet form tucked in on the bed. However, he wasn’t sure which to be more surprised by, the fact you had fallen ill like this or the sight of Lucifer dressed down, sitting at your bedside.

Lucifer sighed, moving his stiff form now to turn and look at your guests. “Yes, they were looking awful all during breakfast, and after getting up from their chair, they just fainted. I’m not sure what it is, but they have some kind of fever. I’ve been applying this compress but of course we don’t have any human world medicine here.”

Solomon nodded, setting down his satchel on the top of your desk. “I’ve brought a potion that will help bring down their fever for now,” he said, removing a carefully packaged vial filled with a fascinating colored liquid. “Unfortunately, I’m not a doctor so I can’t treat the root cause, but I’ll do my best until a physician can get here.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Lucifer said, nodding. He glanced at Barbatos, who was standing silently at the foot of your bed. “I didn’t expect you to come here, Barbatos. Did you need something?”

Barbatos only shook his head.

“No, when I received your message that MC was sick, I thought it best to bring some tea for them to drink," he replied, bringing forward a small tin. "Peppermint tea is supposed to provide some medicinal properties, such as relieving fever and nausea. Once MC is awake, perhaps they can drink it to help their symptoms. I've also called on the services of a doctor who is familiar with human health and illnesses, they should be arriving soon."

Lucifer accepted it, taking the tin and placing it on your bedside table. "Yes, that will be good, thank you," he said, prompting a small smile from the butler.

Lucifer reached over and gently shook your shoulders, feeling terrible for waking you but wanting to get the potion in your body already. “MC, can you hear me?” he said softly, and your face scrunched a little in response. “Solomon has brought some medicine to help your fever, you should try to take some.”

Solomon and Barbatos couldn't help glancing at each other at the demon's gentle tone.

"Lucifer..?" You mumbled, bleary eyes blinking several times as you struggled to wake up.

"Yes, it's me," he responded, heart fluttering again at the sound of your voice. "Do you remember what happened? You had passed out after breakfast."

"Oh. That's wild."

Lucifer couldn't help himself as his eyebrows shot up at your response, which was obviously the product of still being half-asleep. But it was a very you response, and he refrained from laughing. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cutoff as you suddenly gasped, shooting up from the bed.

"My quiz! What happened to my quiz?" you shouted, but the outburst was short-lived as the sudden change in elevation made you waver, your fatigued body not strong enough to handle this.

Lucifer caught your body as you started to fall backwards, and he gently eased you back onto your pillow. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Of all the things to think about now, a quiz was on your mind?

"You passed out in front of me and you're worried about a quiz?" he couldn't help but question. "Diavolo was made aware of what happened, you don't have to worry about your class. We're more concerned with your fever, we think you may be sick."

Solomon took the chance to step forward, grabbing the colorful vial he'd brought earlier.

"Here, MC, this potion should help you feel better for now. But we're trying to find you a doctor just to make sure everything is okay," he said, uncorking the vial. Despite your dubious look, you accepted and drank it down with his help before settling back down on the pillow. You could immediately feel the effects of the potion, already getting some relief from the fatigue in your body and the cold sweats plaguing you.

Barbatos also took the opportunity to speak up, stepping up to the end of your bed. “I’ve also brought you some peppermint tea leaves. Please let me know if you’d like me to brew some tea for you. The Young Lord is wishing for your speedy recovery.”

“Thanks, Solomon, that does make me feel a little better. And not right now, Barbatos, but that does sound really good, I appreciate it. Please tell Diavolo thank you for me, as well.” You closed your eyes for a moment, relaxing against your pillow, before opening them again and looking at the three people in your room. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone, I promise I’ll get better soon.”

Lucifer only shook his head at you, pulling up your blanket around your body and tucking you in.

“You can hardly blame us for worrying about you, you have left a strong impression on all of us. Just focus on resting for now, a physician should be coming by soon,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. The other two smiled back at you, as well, before Solomon said his goodbyes and left.

Barbatos stayed behind to wait, eventually making you the tea in the meantime and just involving you in some small talk to comfort you. Once the physician arrived, Barbatos and Lucifer both left to give you some privacy, nervously waiting outside your door for the results. Lucifer even settled on the ground against the wall, sleeves still rolled up and hair a mess, uncharacteristically ruffled.

Although you had seemed in better spirits after taking Solomon’s potion and resting, Lucifer still felt restless, waiting for your assessment to be finished. When he heard your door click open, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he shot to his feet, afraid for the worst. But the physician quickly assuaged his fears.

Despite the fever and the passing out, everything pointed to simple burnout, caused by you overworking yourself in an attempt to get ahead. You would need to wait out the remainder of the fever, taking medicine as needed to help it along. But overall, the most important thing you needed now was rest, and plenty of it. Thankfully, that would be easy enough to arrange.

Unfortunately, the answer was not a surprising one. Lucifer knew that, despite the offers from him and the other RAD council members, you often declined on any kind of assistance or tutoring with your work. His own sin prompted him to say it was pride that prevented you from accepting outside help. But he knew that in general, you felt it could be a weakness, especially being in an environment with those that still looked down on humans and were uncertain of your place in their society. Deeper than that, he also knew you considered yourself a burden, trying to reduce your presence whenever possible, leaving you to work twice as hard to complete the same tasks.

Sometimes he wished that you would rely on him a little more, come to him when you needed help or just a listening ear. But if anyone understood the need to maintain their pride, it was the the Avatar of Pride himself. Lucifer also knew he hadn’t always been the most supportive, memories of your new arrival and the way he treated you burned into his mind like a shameful brand, so he couldn’t blame you for keeping things to yourself. But maybe, after this whole episode was resolved and you were back to full health, things could be different.

He stepped into your room once the physician departed, and you were sitting up in bed, propped up by your pillows. You were already looking much better than earlier, and it eased his heart immensely. Lucifer didn’t even need to say anything, as your sheepish expression said it all, but he still wanted to make sure of something.

“I trust you understand what the doctor has told you about your condition and what to do now,” he said. He couldn’t help gravitating towards you, ending up at the side of your bed once more.

You nodded, squeezing your hands nervously in front of you.

“I know, I understand,” you said, your voice meek and rough from your exhaustion.

Honestly, the whole thing was embarrassing. You were just trying to keep up with your classmates, make sure you weren’t embarrassing the Prince of the Devildom or the Seven Avatars that were hosting you in their home. And for a while, it seemed to be working. Sure you felt a little tired, but at least your grades were exemplary. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy, or stay that easy.

As you recalled what happened up until you passed out, and bits and pieces of Lucifer caring for you afterwards came to mind, you found yourself unable to make eye contact. Your body felt hot again, but it wasn’t the fever this time. Not only did you end up passing out from your efforts, but it was Lucifer that took care of you in the end. It was mortifying, truly. But almost as if sensing your feelings, Lucifer sat at the edge of your bed, his still-uncovered hand moving to cover both of yours.

The touch surprised you, making you look up finally, but his next words were what truly took you off guard.

“I know that you feel you have to work hard to keep up with your studies,” Lucifer said, squeezing your hands gently. “And while we— Diavolo and I— appreciate your efforts, the whole point of you coming to the Devildom was not to get good grades. You are part of the exchange program, but you are also our guest. I know we have not always been as welcome as we should have been, but we hope that you can come to us when you feel that you’re struggling. At least, I hope that you can come to me, if you are struggling.”

You couldn’t help it as your eyes widened. A soft look you’d never noticed before filled Lucifer’s face, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. You’d seen a lot of expressions cross Lucifer’s face, but this was the rarest of all, and one you never expected to be aimed towards you.

This, combined with his words, was all too much for you at once. Suddenly, your vision was swimming and something wet was falling down one of your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Almost immediately, Lucifer’s smile dropped in panic, and through your tears, you could just barely make out his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words.

“Oh—” Damn it. Lucifer wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he told you how he felt, but it certainly wasn’t tears. He quickly reached up, brushing away your tears with his fingers, his touch awkward but achingly gentle. Of course, his touch only made you cry harder.

“I– I’m sorry, MC, it wasn’t my intention to make you cry,” he said, finally remembering a handkerchief he keeps in his vest, and patted your cheeks with it, trying desperately to slow your tears.

You struggled to calm yourself down, wanting to reassure the demon of any misunderstanding.

“I-it’s not that,” you said, involuntary gasps breaking up your words. “I just feel so stupid. Like I just keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again, no matter what. And now here I am, sick in bed and you’re having to take care of me, and you’re being so nice, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Nice” wasn’t a word often used to describe Lucifer, at least not anymore. And he could guess that it’s not a word you’d used to describe him in the past. It also hurt him to hear how you saw yourself and all your efforts. Although you came across as reckless and a little ridiculous at times, you were also genuine and a hard worker. Lucifer’s pride made it difficult for him to admit many things, but he genuinely came to appreciate the way you treated your studies, unlike some of his brothers. Even if your grades were poor, even if you struggled with the subjects, he simply admired your sincerity in everything you did, and that was enough to make him happy. He just wished that you could feel the same.

“I think you’re being generous by calling me nice. But you don’t need to do anything special, MC,” he said. Finally, your tears were starting to dry a little bit, easing his own aching heart. “We all appreciate your efforts, but we just want you to keep being yourself, more than anything. Keep reminding us that you are human, in the way only you can. Of course, if you can do that without worrying me sick, that would also be appreciated.”

The last part made you laugh, and you couldn’t help but sniffle as the crying finally ended.

“Okay.”

“And if you’re having trouble with a subject, many of us would be happy to help you. Satan does make an excellent tutor, and despite Belphie’s knack for sleeping in class, he often has a good grasp on the subjects as well.” Now that your eyes were dry, Lucifer put the damp handkerchief back in his pocket in order to use a hand to squeeze yours. His other hand brushed over your cheek, rubbing softly, soothingly.

You could only nod, more tears threatening to rip a sob from you if you opened your mouth again. But no more words were needed, getting to relax your impossible standards for once and finally feeling at peace knowing that there were others there to support you, including a certain red-eyed devil at your side.

As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💜 You can also support me by buying a coffee ☕️!

[steviebbboi]

Ordinary is Ordinary

Chap 02/02: Gem Meets Steve

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Gem)

Rating: Teens and up!

Summary: You viewed life as it was: ordinary. To you, life was an endless cycle of simply trying to make ends meet. People work, sleep and wake up to do it all over again. A chance encounter with a certain captain challenges your philosophy of what is considered to be ordinary.

A/N: Fluff on fluff, a meet cute with Steve and Gem! This is a two-parter that I also wrote around 2018. There's not many warnings other than getting ready for some teeth-rotting sweetness from Steve. Hope you enjoy reading :)

Coffee dividers by @saradika-graphics - Thank you so much for creating these cute coffee banners - perfect for this lil meet cute moment <3

Diamond divider by @firefly-graphics - wonderful work as always! Thank you sm!

Read Part 1 here.

You walked to your coffee shop on Court street, feeling slightly in a daze. You still could not believe that Captain freaking America bought your coffee. It’s been a few weeks since your "meet cute" had transpired and you were hoping to run into him again.

"God, what am I thinking?" You said to yourself, thinking of how the scenario would go down. 

"Hey, Captain—Cap. El Capitán. Thanks for buying me coffee the other day and so sorry I was such a bitch—sorry, excuse my language. I meant to say that I was being rude. Also, thanks for saving the world from flying alien robots. And oh yeah, the robots from the day before..."

You shook your head and scolded yourself for your imagination. People like you did not just run into one of the Avengers. Who were you to ever say anything to them—to Captain America?! You were just a girl born and raised in Brooklyn. 

Taking your life, as boring and ordinary as it was, day by day.

You continued to walk into the cafe, the familiar bell at the top of the door dinged as you pushed the door open. It was 7AM and you're already in line for the morning rush. Falling into line like the other mindless drones going to work, You stood there being idle with your thoughts.

Completely out of it, due to lack of sleep and your wandering thoughts, you neglected to hear the door’s ding as another drone entered the cafe. You subconsciously stepped forward as coffee orders were taken and given up ahead.

You felt the person behind you step up as the line shifted. Distantly, you heard a throat clear. You didn't pay it any mind and continued to stare straight ahead. After a minute, you heard another throat clear, purposefully this time. You began to turn your body and look behind you but then you heard a soft ‘hey Gem’ spoken from someone in the front. You straightened and looked towards the register and saw Chris greeting you a good morning.

"How are you, Chris?" You asked as you gave your coffee order. Luckily, you have been promoted at your job, going from assistant to secretary. Not that big of a bump but you took it since it meant that you would be getting out of buying ten cups of coffee every morning for the next five years.

"I'm alright, Gem. How are you feeling?" Chris asked you. After the ‘transformers’ incident, although the attack didn't happen on American soil, the damage was felt by all people in New York. Everyone was still recovering from all these other worldly attacks.

"I'm alright. World keeps spinning, I suppose." You grinned humorlessly and stepped aside for the person behind you to order as Chris nodded his agreement.

You were waiting for your order at the end of the bar and after a few moments, you heard a voice beside you say, "Does it really?"

You turned and saw the very man, and hero, that has been occupying your thoughts the past few weeks. He looked...tired but still put together. You had a weird moment of just seeing him in his whole get up until you realized that he was just wearing casual attire. You stared at him for a while and noticed that he was just staring at you with his eye brows slightly raised.

You shook your head a bit, "Sorry— what was that?"

He gave you a grin and said, "Does the world really just keep spinning?"

Your mouth opened a few times, as you were at a loss of what to say. How do you respond to Captain America that through all of his stress, tribulations and hard work of trying to save the world, it didn't really matter because the world ‘just kept spinning’? As if nothing happened.

"You, you freaking idiot!" You thought while looking down, a bit ashamed. "I’m so sorry, I meant no offense."

He looked taken aback, a soft grin still on his face. "Hey, it's okay. No offense was taken. That's what the world is supposed to do, spin." He didn't discuss it any further but you understood what he was saying.

It was his job to defend and keep the world going. To keep it spinning. To operate as if nothing happened.

You smiled slightly and said quietly, "Still though, it wouldn't continue to spin without you guys." His eyes widened a bit and his small grin widened a bit as he tucked his head down, not saying anything. 

"My cover is blown, I see." He said.

You smiled and said, "It's kinda hard not to notice Captain America taking pity on the girl in a coffee shop and buying your coffee even after you were being super rude to him."

Steve laughed a bit, "You were not being rude. You were being cautious, as everyone should be. But, I will admit that you're slightly off about one thing. I'm not Captain America taking pity on the girl in the coffee shop and buying your coffee for you."

He extended his grin and his hand, "I'm Steve, and a few weeks ago, I saw a pretty girl standing in front of me in a coffee shop and decided to buy her coffee, all in the hopes of getting her to talk to me."

You were taken aback at his unexpected forwardness, "Captain America is a flirt." Surprise flitted your thoughts. You blushed when you finally registered what he said, "Captain— Steve thinks I'm pretty."

Although still blushing, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. 

He shook your hand, "It's really nice to meet you. So, your name isn’t Gem, either?”

You smiled back at him and couldn't look away from the teasing glint in his eyes. Giving him a glimpse of your laugh, “No, that’s all Chris. I chalk it up to the fact that I’ve tried to charm him into making me ten cups of coffee every morning for the past five years.”

Steve hummed his agreement, “Yeah, I can see why he would.” 

You flushed again as he continued to flirt with you. There seemed to be something in both of your expressions, an energy or a spark that seemed to ignite the moment that your hands touched and your gazes met each other. You both let go, but only after you heard your name called for your coffee.

You turned to get your coffee and checked your watch that read 7:30AM. You noticed that you had no time to chat with him if you wanted to get to work. You wondered if you even should. You smiled sadly, thinking of what it could be like to date a superhero. "I'm better off without that kind of stress. I have my job and myself to look after. Maybe it's not such a good idea. Maybe it is for the best."

You turned back to Steve with a reluctance that you couldn’t help keep out of your voice. "I have to go but...it was really nice to see you again, Steve."

Steve looked at you and you could tell that he was disappointed but not surprised by your reaction and reluctantly smiled, "You too, Gem."

You smiled regrettably and quietly said bye. You walked towards the front door but stopped before you could pull it open. You couldn't stop thinking about the moment you touched hands. The spark. His deep blue eyes. Unknowingly, you were walking away from a handshake that had the potential to change your life forever.

But you didn't walk away.

Steve was still facing the bar counter, waiting for his coffee. Slightly disappointed that he could not manage to stop you from walking away but accepted the situation for what it was. He knew that times were different but he gave it a try and he failed. He was being too forward and you weren't interested.

But, in that moment, he couldn't stop thinking about the moment that you touched hands. The unflinching, bright spark that tingled between your touch. The bright gleam in your eyes.

He made up his mind to chase after you until he realized that he didn't hear the ding of the door nor did he hear the pause of your footsteps. He turned around to see you at the door, facing him, holding your coffee with a genuine smile laid on your face.

It was Steve’s turn to flush as he was caught turning to go after you. You took two steps forward towards Steve and you both stood quiet for a second until you said, "So, how'd you propose a girl would ask a cute guy to walk with you 'till you had to go to work?"

Steve's eyes lit up in humor, recognizing their little dance. "Do you have the time?" 

You looked at your watch that said 7:45AM and looked back at Steve.

"Eh," You shrugged with the same humored smile. "Let the world spin."

Thanks so much for reading this two-part series! Reading this again after a few years, my heart is really staying with Steve and Gem.

Comments/reblogs/like are so appreciated and welcomed. Thanks for reading and enjoying :)

Main Masterlist

[clxja16]

Does He Know?

part two

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: forbidden relationship

Warnings: smut, swearing, angst

Word Count: 3.7K+

Author's Note: THERE ISN'T GONNA BE A PART THREE. I have to make that clear because you guys can seriously talk me into anything and it's not good man. You guys win, I wrote the part two, idk if this is any good though, I feel like it's very vague. idk about a part three, like honestly if enough of you beg in the comments for like a part three then maybe I will write one. also is there kpop fans here, specifically nct fans? if there are, I have another blog for nct lol. anyway enjoy reading.

part I

post about part III

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

“I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you whisper to Arthur, as his older brother, Lorenzo is telling a story at the dinner table.  Arthur nods his head, letting your hand go, he looks back and smiles at you before returning his attention to Lorenzo.  His smile has your heart melting, Arthur and his pearly whites.  

After you left the table, Charles silently followed after you.  He caught up to you in a back hallway to the restrooms.  Wrapping his hand around your arm, to stop you, it set your skin a blaze.  “I know you,” Charles said with a bit of a glare.  

“Yeah, we just met tonight at dinner…” 

“No, I know you from before tonight,” Charles corrected his earlier statement.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I have never seen you before tonight,” you said, trying to convince yourself that you were wrong and Charles isn’t the one you slept with.  

“You’re the girl from that night, the one that was in my bed.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you don’t know if you’re trying to convince Charles that he's wrong or if you’re trying to convince yourself anymore.    

“Don’t lie, I haven’t forgotten that night,” Charles says softer this time, his tone gentler now.  It would be a lie to say that your heart didn’t skip a beat with how Charles talked.  

“I don’t want to remember that night,” you say this time, trying to push the memories from that night away from your mind.  Charles took a step closer to you, when someone was coming down the hall to use the restroom.  His cologne surrounded you, you couldn’t describe what he smelled like but it caused your mind to go fuzzy.  You felt overwhelmed with his presence.  

You watched Charles' gaze flicker between your eyes and your lips, “I don’t want to remember that night either,” Charles says clearly dazed.  Charles moves his other hand to cup your face, you want to have the strength to stop him.  But Charles makes your heart flutter, and your brian go hazy.  There’s something about being in his presence, being so physically close to him, that makes you forget about everything else.  

“I should…” you take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help because all you can smell is Charles’ cologne.  “Arthur,” you whisper, you’re trying to say you should go back to Arthur, but you don’t get all the words out.  

The mention of his brother has Charles halting.  “You should go back to the table,” Charles says, letting you go and taking a step back.   You nod your head, before walking away.  Charles doesn’t know what came over him.  He hasn’t stopped thinking about that night.  For the past three months you have invaded all his dreams, for three months Charles couldn’t get you out of his head.  For three months he wondered, what your name was, what you did like, how you looked before the morning after, who your boyfriend was.  For three months Charles has only thought about you.  

Charles remembers that night so clearly, he remembers what started that night even.  Him and Charlotte got into an argument about something unimportant, so Charles went out in an attempt to forget about it.  There at the club with a few friends, he spotted you.  You were dancing, and drinking with what looked to be a few girlfriends.  The sight of you sent shivers down Charles' spine.  He came over to dance with you, and you allowed him to.  The feeling of your body against his sent shocks through his system.  Your perfume caused his brain to fog up.  Something about you had Charles in a trance.  

When Charles finally returns to the table, you both pretend nothing happened.  You take Arthur’s hand in yours and you smile lovingly at Arthur.  You notice Charles takes his girlfriend, Charlotte’s hand, and kisses the back of it.  You and him look at each other, you don’t know what passes through his mind, but thoughts of that night pass through your mind.  Suppressed memories of Charles hovering over you, filling you.  His hands on your body, his lips on yours, his body pressed against yours, all those memories fill your mind.  You turn back to look at Arthur, trying to stop the heat crawling over your body.  

After you break the gaze, Charles looks down to his lap, having to adjust his pants.  He knew he was fucked when one glance from you did this to him.  You knew you were fucked, when at the end of the night when Arthur placed a kiss on your lips, your mind still play thoughts of Charles.  

-

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” Arthur says, as he drags you along.  Charles is taking the yacht out today, and Arthur insisted on you coming along, even though you already told him that you would prefer to stay at home.  Against your wishes, Arthur drags you along nonetheless. 

Charles picks you and Arthur up from the dock, before moving onto the yacht.  When you finally get aboard, Charles and Arthur don’t waste any time, immediately jumping into the water.  When they come back aboard, you feel your heart pound, as water drips from Charles’ bare chest. 

“Someone like what they see?” Charlotte asks from behind you, as she holds out towels for the boys.  

“Huh?” you pull your gaze away from Charles to look at his girlfriend.  

“Arthur, you like what you see,” Charlotte says pointing to Arthur who was standing behind Charles.  

“Yeah, of course,” you say, as the guilt begins to eat away at you. Charles looks at you and he knows you weren’t looking at Arthur.  You grab a towel from Charlotte, walking past Charles to hand it to Arthur.  “How does the water feel?” You ask Arthur.  

“Nice, refreshing,” Arthur says with a flashy smirk, grabbing the towel from you.  

“You girls should take a dip,” Charles says, you feel his gaze on you, his voice sends goosebumps down your skin.  

“Maybe I will,” you say in a hushed voice, Arthur thinks you’re talking to him, but you know you’re talking to Charles.  

“Oh? I should join you,” Arthur says with a playful smirk, as he sets down the towel.  You pull off your shirt, and you step out of your shorts to jump into the water.  You still feel Charles gaze on you, you feel him stare at you.  

“They look good together, yeah?” Charlotte asks Charles, as she hugs his arm, watching you and Arthur jump into the water.  

“Yeah,” Charles mumbles, not hearing what Charlotte says, too focused on you.  

-

That night so many drinks are shared that no one really makes it back to shore.  Charlotte is tucked away in Charles’ room, while Arthur is passed out in another room that Charles set aside for him.  Any other friends that Charles had invited out for the day, are already fast asleep.  There's only you and Charles left up, nursing your drinks.  You sit far away enough from him, that his scent doesn’t surround you.  

“Does he know?” Charles asks, breaking the silence first.  

“He knows, he doesn’t know it was you.”  You don’t need the context to answer the question, you already know what Charles is referring to.  

“What did you tell him?” 

“That it was a terrible mistake, that I don’t remember who the guy was, that I would never do it again,” you answer truthfully.  There’s no one around, there’s no reason to lie anymore.  “Does she know?” 

Charles takes a sip of the beer in his hand.  You can see the debate go on in his mind, he takes a second before answering, “no.” 

“I should go to bed,” you stand up from your seat, placing your drink down on the table.  Charles matches your movement standing up with you.  You watch Charles, make his way towards you, closing the distance you put between the both of you.  He wasted no time, cupping your face and grabbing your waist pulling you in close.  You feel his lips brush against yours, not a full kiss, “don’t,” you whisper, closing your eyes.  “Don’t do something we’re gonna both regret,” you get the words out this time. 

“I want to,” Charles whispers, “I want to kiss you, even when I know I shouldn’t.”  You don’t dare to open your eyes to look at Charles, afraid that as soon as you open them, you’re gonna succumb to your desires.  “Look at me,” Charles whispers, noticing that you’re not looking at him.  Against your better judgment, you obey.  You open your eyes and look at Charles.  

You do it.  You push yourself slightly higher, pressing your lips against Charles’.  It's almost instant with how he responds, pulling you closer, holding on to you tighter.  You wish you stopped at a kiss.  You wished you stopped after you fell back into the seat.  You wish you stopped when he moved to your neck.  You wish you stopped when he moved down to your chest.  You wish you stopped when he continued to move down your body.  You don’t stop him.  

You don’t stop Charles when he pulls your bikini bottoms from your legs.  You allow Charles to pull your legs apart, as he kisses everywhere he needs to.  Charles licks between your folds, covering the entire area.  You want to wrap your legs around his head to keep him in place, but Charles stops you.  He pins your legs to the deck floor as he continues to eat you out.  He wants to hear your moans, your pleas, your cries, but both you and him know better.  You place both hands over your mouth, trying to contain any sounds.  

Your body is on fire, on the verge of ecstasy.  Charles doesn’t stop or even slow down, he is determined to taste you tonight.  Charles moves his thumb to glide over your clit, while his tongue pushes in and out of you.  You bite your hand to stop the extreme moan that tries to escape.  Charles notices you struggling to keep quiet, he looks up at you from his position with hooded eyes.  “You need to keep quiet,” Charles says to you, and all you can do is nod your head, “good girl.”  Charles goes back to eating you out at a more vigorous pace.  Your toes start to curl as you feel your orgasm creep up on you.  You’re teetering on the edge, and with one full lick, Charles shoves you over the edge.  

Charles doesn’t stop there, licking up all your juices.  When he finally pulls away, you still see traces of your orgasm on his lips.  He moves back down to kiss you, you’re able to taste yourself off of his lips.  Charles moves down to kiss at your neck again, he wants to mark you.  Claim you as his.  He wants to display his work on your body.  He wants everyone to see you belong to him.  He wants Arthur to know you’re his, but he doesn’t.  He doesn’t mark your body, he doesn’t linger in one spot too long, he doesn’t.  Instead he pushes your legs further apart, making space for himself.  

He takes his cock in his hand, guiding himself into you.  He fills you up in all the best ways possible.  He kisses away all the pain, he wants for your signal to move after he bottoms out.  When you do give in he moves slowly, painfully slow.  “Charles,” your words comes out as breathy whimpers, “faster, please.”  

Charles was never the type to deny a woman of her needs, so he goes faster.  He goes faster, he pulls your leg up around his waist, and you throw your head back.  You can feel all of him deep inside of you, and he offers nothing but pleasure.  You’re rushed back to the edge of that beloved cliff.  He moves one hand back down to your clit, rubbing soft circles.  The complete opposite to his blunt, hard, fast strokes.  You bury your head in Charles’ neck, you moan into him for only his ears to hear.  

Charles fears you being too loud, that he pulls your head away from his neck, and pushes his thumb into your mouth.  Your eyes go wide, with the realization of what Charles is doing.  You hold his hand to your face, and suck on his thumb.  Charles didn’t think the act of you sucking on his fingers would turn him on so much.  Charles loses all focus, feeling too good.  You fall off the edge first, when Charles hits the one spot you needed him too.  You clench around Charles that sends him over the edge.  

You both lay there out of breath for a minute still connected.  You don’t want to let Charles go for him to pull out, but he does nonetheless, as he wrapped your legs from him.  He couldn’t help himself but watch as his cum spills out from you.  He doesn’t stop himself dragging his fingers up your folds pushing it back inside of you.  You snap your legs shut, trapping Charles’ hand, as your hands fly to cover your mouth.  

Charles pries your legs apart, taking his fingers covered in yours and his cum, shoving it back in your mouth.  You suck and lick his fingers clean, and you swear Charles’ eyes go dark after that.  

-

Charles brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek as the two of you lay bare, wrapped up in a blanket.  “We should get dressed,” you whisper as you look up at Charles. 

“This was a mistake,” Charles whispers to you, not really convinced that it was.  

“It’s never gonna happen again,” you lie.  The two of you untangle yourselves from each other.  You each get dressed back faced to each other.  There’s no more words exchanged between the both of you, as you silently walk to your respective bedrooms.  You don’t take a peek at Charles as he enters his room, and Charles doesn’t take a peek at you as you enter your room.  You crawl into bed with Arthur, and wrap your arms around Arthur.  You close your eyes, and try to get yourself to sleep.  But Charles’ scent lingers too strongly on you, that it makes your mind fuzzy, that you’re not able to sleep.  That you’re all hot and bothered, all over again.  

Charles climbs into his bed, Charlotte instinctively wraps herself around Charles when she feels him enter the bed.  Charlotte smiles in her sleep, now feeling Charles with her.  Charles looks down at his girlfriend and tries to push all thoughts of you to the back of his mind.  But your lips are burned onto his skin.  He can still feel your kisses against his neck.  Your hands are burned onto his skin, so he can still feel you gripping his arms.  Your legs are burned onto his sides, that he can still feel them wrapped around his waist.  Charles can still feel all of you around him. 

You’re so hot and bothered, that you wake Arthur up.  Charles is so uncomfortable that he wakes Charlotte up.  But it's not the same for either you or Charles.  

-

You want to say that was the last time.  You want to say that it was a mistake.  You want to say that it never happened again.  But that's all lies.  It happens again and again.  It happens constantly over the next two months.  It happens so much that you have a strange feeling that Arthur knows.  You and Charles both agree to stop until things stop being so suspicious.  

You look over at Arthur, sleeping peacefully in your bed.  The sight has your heart breaking in two.  You want to be head over heels in love with Arthur.  You want Arthur to send your skin ablaze like Charles does.  You want Arthur to cause your heart to flutter with a single glance, like Charles does.  You want Arthur’s kisses to burn like Charles does.  You want Arthur's touch to send shocks through your system like Charles’ does.  You want Arthur to have the same effect on you like Charles does.  

“Hello,” you press your phone up to your ear, turning away from watching Arthur sleep.  “Why did you call?” 

“Why did you answer?” Charles’ voice comes out clear through the speaker, even without seeing him.  His voice still sends shivers down your spine.  

“We can’t do this Charles, Arthur is asleep,” you whisper.  

“I had a dream about you,” Charles whispers too, afraid he’s going to wake the sleeping Charlotte in his bed.  

“And?” you feel the wind knocked from your lungs.  

“You had my baby,” Charles answers honestly.  You place a hand on your stomach, you feel your eyes well with tears.  You’re in too deep and you know it.  

“y/n,” Arthur’s voice cuts clean across the room, your heart drops, “who are you on the phone with?” 

You pull the phone away from your ear, hanging up the call before anyone can say anything else, “it was my mom, she pressed the wrong button.”  You lie so easily to Arthur, you have gotten good at hiding things now.  

“Okay,” Arthur says, deep down he feels like you’re lying to him, but he just thinks he’s being insecure.  

“Let’s go to bed,” you say with a soft smile, turning off your phone.  

-

You shut Charles out completely.  You block his number, you block him all on social media platforms.  Anytime Arthur invites you out with his family, you fake an illness.  You do a marvelous job of avoiding Charles completely.  So much of a marvelous job, that Charles forces you to see him.  You don’t know how he does it but he shows up at your front door demanding to see you.  You couldn’t help yourself but open the door to him.  

The sight of Charles has your heart racing, you feel it want to jump out of your chest and run away.  His scent invades your nose, it surrounds you and you feel your mind going fuzzy.  “What are you doing here?” your voice comes out meek and tired.  

“Why are you avoiding me?” Charles asks, his voice sounds strained.  He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well.  You close your eyes looking away from Charles, he moves cupping your face to look at him.  

“Charles, we can’t,” you speak softly this time, you’re trying to say all your thoughts but Charles.  

“No, y/n what is this about?” There’s a tone of uneasiness in Charles’ voice, you try to push him away, but he just pulls you closer.  His hands remain on your face, that has you losing your focus.  

“Charles your dream,” you are out of breath when you speak.

“It was a stupid dream,” Charles says. 

“No,” 

“What is it?  Talk to me.” 

“I was happy,” you say, finally looking at Charles, as the tears escaped you.  “You told me you had a dream of me having your baby and that made me happy Charles.  Arthur was sleeping in my bed,” you placed a great deal of emphasis on the ‘my’ of my bed, “and I was happy with the thought of your baby.  Your brother, Charles, your brother was in my bed.”  

Charles finally lets you go.  He looks at his hands as if there's blood on them, there minus well be blood on them, his brother’s blood.  “This was a mistake,” Charles says, this time he means it, “I shouldn’t have come.” 

“Please go,” you whisper, as you silently cry, turning away from Charles.  

“I’m sorry y/n,” Charles says as he walks out the door.  That’s the last time you see Charles ever.  

You make sure it’s the last time you ever see Charles.  That very same day, after Charles leaves your place, you break up with Arthur.  You tell Arthur the truth, the easy truth.  That you fell out of love with him, that your heart doesn’t feel the same anymore.  That you’re sorry and ashamed that your feelings changed so drastically.  

Arthur doesn’t even know if he wants the answer, but he asks anyway, “were you cheating on me?” 

You think about your answer carefully, you think about what your answer would mean.  What it would do, how it would affect everyone, what was the best thing to say.  You take the time to answer Arthur’s question, you think very carefully before answering.  “I was, you don’t know him, he’s someone from back home.” 

“What was it about him that I didn’t have?” Arthur asks, again he doesn’t know if he wants the answer but he still asks.  

You have to think carefully again, Arthur and Charles are similar in so many ways.  There's so many things that they shared, “nothing,” you finally answer.  “He wasn’t better than you, my heart just chose him.”  

“Are you gonna be with him now?” 

The answer comes fast this time around, “no, he has a girlfriend.”  

“What are you gonna do now?” Arthur asks, this time he knows he wants the answer.  

This time you don’t have to carefully word your answer, “I’m gonna go back home, I think i’ve been away too long.”  

Arthur nods his head, he stands up to leave.  It feels weird, almost unsatisfying.  You thought Arthur was gonna yell, shout, cry, but he didn’t do any such things.  Before he makes it out of the door, he turns back and says, “I hope you find someone who makes you feel like how that guy made you feel.”  Arthur then shuts the door behind him, in that moment you caught a glimpse of Charles in Arthur.  You leave Monaco within the week, you try not to think about it.  

However even when you get back home, thousands of miles away from Charles, you can still feel his lips on your skin.  You can still feel his hands grip your waist.  You can still feel the shocks he sent through your system.  You can still feel the blaze he set to your body.  Even thousands miles away, your body still longs for him.

part iii

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

Taglist: @somanyfandomsbruh@starfly-nicole@janeholt3@sheslikeacurse@uhhevie

[infiniteeight8]

I loved what you wrote for Alpha/Alpha. And that smut was what i asked for.

Could we have accidental bonding; like they didn't think it would remain but it did.

I’m glad I got it right! 

I generally imagine omegaverse two ways, and neither of them allow bonding both outside of a heat and after a single encounter (it just doesn’t make sense to me, and my muse demands a bit of logic, lol). But! Stephen and Tony already wanted to do this again, so here’s a bit of accidental bonding from a while later.

This is a sequel to this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58511035

-

We have a problem.

Tony stares at Stephen’s text. It’s better than We need to talk, but not by much. Especially when he sends back What kind of a problem? and gets One best discussed in person as a response. 

He and Stephen haven’t exactly been dating. Their encounters pretty much revolve around the bedroom. Still, there have been enough breaks between rounds and mornings after for Tony to feel like they were becoming friends in addition to sex partners. The idea that either of those things might change is… unwelcome.

The twenty minutes before Stephen can get to Tony’s penthouse are increasingly tense. Stephen’s expression when he steps off the elevator doesn’t help. Tony takes the time to pour each of them a drink before he asks. “So. What kind of problem?”

“One of the omega nurses congratulated me today,” Stephen says.

“On what?” Tony sips his drink.

“On being mated.”

Tony manages not to spit the drink out, but it’s a near thing. He swallows roughly and spends a minute coughing before he can manage any kind of reply. “When did you get mated?” he demands. They’d slept together three days ago, and he’d been sure Stephen wasn’t seeing anyone else. Who moves that fast?

Stephen knocks back half his own drink in one gulp, which is no way to treat good whiskey, but Tony is hardly going to object under the circumstances. “I didn’t,” Stephen says. “But I checked with four other people; I definitely smell bonded. And I have been sleeping with the same alpha regularly and exclusively for almost three months now."

“You mean…” Tony trails off before voicing the possibility. It doesn’t seem real.

“You and I have formed a bond,” Stephen confirms.

Tony feels a little dazed, mind racing back over the past couple of days for signs. Once he thinks about it… “That actually would explain the looks I was getting when I met with the department heads two days ago.”

“Which begs the question, what do we do now?” Stephen says carefully.

Tony blinks. “What do you mean?”

Stephen purses his lips. “If we want to break it, it’s best to do it as soon as possible.”

Something visceral in Tony rebels at the mere suggestion. He manages to swallow his first reaction. “Do you want to break it?”

Stephen searches his expression for a long time. “No,” he says finally.

“Me neither,” Tony admits in a rush.

They trade a long look, and then Stephen starts chuckling. “You know, I had a plan for exactly how my bonding was going to go,” he says. “It was very orderly.”

Tony grins at him. “I never imagined it at all, but this seems about par for the course.”

“Of course it is,” Stephen says dryly. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace,” Tony shoots back cheerfully. 

Stephen's expression softens. “It seems you are. And I’m yours.”

It’s not the way these things are supposed to be done, but sometimes, Tony figures, you need to run before you walk.

[whyyougottadothatbro]

fluffy little hannie drabble I wrote because I'm an absolute sucker for the man gosh i love him so much :(((

Playlist recommended : 🎧

Wc : 0.8k, barely proofread

2:36 AM

“hm?”

You hum in question as you offer jisung your left ear’s ear pod, sitting at the windowsill in your bedroom. Not the biggest apartment you could have landed in your budget, but its cozy and perfect for you, in fact, perfect for two.

“Mhm. Scoot over” he hums in acceptance, taking the ear pod from your extended hand and putting it in, as you scoot ahead from where you were leaning, making space for him to settle behind you, leaning your head against his chest with him stretching his legs ahead to have you sit in-between them, snuggled up against him, head against his shoulder, the perfect fit, his missing puzzle piece. 

“where do you even find these songs? I love them, especially when it gets this late” jisung finally relaxes his tense body that had been uptight the whole day, leaning his head so his squirrel cheeks smush against the crown of your head. It was late though, 2:36 AM to be exact, but a freshly showered jisung felt too heavenly against you, it probably would be 2:36 AM an hour later too, or 2 hours later even, dawn would slowly creep up into the sky and the night would slowly fade away into the day, but time in your world would stop the moment jisung took you in his arms and your skin was against his, his heartbeat next to your ear. 

“what do I say? Being a producer’s girlfriend does need some musical talent don’t you think?” you grin up at him, the skyline shining from the window against your back, the moonlight illuminating both your faces in its soft glow, and jisung adjusts the blanket to cover the both of you better, lips pressing against the crown of your head in a soft kiss.

“baby you could be tone deaf and I’d still love you to bits, your kickass music taste is just a cherry-on-top” you hum in agreement because you do know its true.jisung’s love is nothing like love you’ve felt before, and you know you’re keeping it by your side for as long as time allows you. 

the blanket covers you both in each other’s warmth with your usual comfortable silence cocooning you both in its ease.jisung was almost preparing himself mentally to carry you to bed again today because its too often you fall asleep like this, but you look at the night sky again, the thought of having a lazy morning with your lover the next day after so long keeping sleep away from you momentarily. 

“the sky’s so pretty today hm? Feels a bit different today don’t you think?” you ask him as you look at him again. jisung steals a quick glance to the sky again, then back to you. 

“maybe because we’re watching it together like this after a while?” he looks back down at you. But you, oh you’re too far gone, staring at jisung will never get boring, his beauty would never stop amazing you, your heart won’t ever stop loving him. Jisung lays his hand across your soft hand that had been resting against the side of his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. 

"Why do you sometimes look at me like that?" he asks in an almost whisper 

“hm?” you break out of your little daze, eyes searching for his. Jisung chuckles and asks you again,

“ I was asking.. why do you sometimes look at me like that?”

" like what?" 

"Like I hang the stars in the sky or something? Like I'm so precious?"

"Because you are, I don't know about the stars in the sky but the stars in my eyes come around only when I'm with you" your reply is as direct as it could get, and your ease in that answer catches him off guard. He knows how much you love him, your forwardness just leaves him amazed. 

“wow….” the blush is quick to spread across his cheeks and he just knows he’s using something like this in a song sooner or later, maybe he’d propo-

“besides, you’ve got stars on your nails too this time right? my star” you lean up to kiss him hard on the cheek, giggling when you fall back into your earlier position.

jisung, too speechless to say anything, squeezes you in his hold and kisses your nose, the melody playing in his ear makes it even more dream-like, as if you weren’t a dream come true for him already.

“I swear I’m giving felix such a big kiss tomorrow..”

You barely can get yourself to stop from laughing before you ask, “where did lix come from?” you ask him in between your giggles.

“that idiot is the reason I have the love of my life in my arms right now, I owe him big time”

“ah really? Then what does the love of your life get?”

“the love of my life? Baby you had me all for yourself the day you said yes”

“always?”

“always.” 

[fxvcsd]

Little Bit of Lovin’ You

Wc: 936

Synopsis: Where you and the astral express family nearly die after Caelus’ daily dumpster dive.

XTRA: lots n lots n lots nd lotsss of crack! Shit writing bcs i honestly js wrote this on a whim, pt. 2 which is guaranteed will have better writing but will be published in like a few days or something. “Lalala” Caelus, “Okokok” reader. GN! Reader

warnings: emetophobia(ish?), silly dorky goofy nicknames, ooc characters (NOT RLLY), mentions of himeko getting a lil drunkity wunkity

“HE QUITTT, babe! He literally quit being the Trash King! Like, full on smashed his crown to the floor and ran out of the castle, Elsa style!” 

You could barely hold back another groan as Caelus’ stinky body pressed against your own as you made your ways back to the Astral Express. For hours on end, Caelus complained to you about his newfound ‘universal enemy.’ You plugged your nose and held back a gag, the stench of rotten food and other kinds of trash piled up in Caelus’ hair; every crevice and fold in his clothes. 

The minute the two of you stepped foot into the Astral Express, Dan Heng had a clothing pin squeezing his nostrils shut with a fan fluttering the smelly wind out the door. March had a gas mask on, taking pictures of you suffering (to which you’d beat her ass for later on), Himeko backing up with a giggle, and Welt just…being Welt. He covered Pom-Pom’s sensitive nose as the wind Dan Heng blew their way almost made the poor conductor pass out. 

The doors shut with a loud echo. You shoved Caelus off of you and went to the nearest trash can (how ironic!) to barf up the contents you ate earlier that morning; your boyfriend stood by the door like a confused puppy. He tilted his head to the side, jutting his lip out into a pout. He didn’t know what he did wrong. 

As they say, you can’t smell what you carry. 

You take heavy breaths as March cackled, patting your back. The others looked away to respect your privacy, but they couldn’t help but let little giggles slip past their lips. You would let Welt deal with the trash can later… he wouldn’t mind a little cleaning up after his favorite child, after all. 

Probably. 

Caelus tried to walk to your side, but with the help of Dan Heng — who reluctantly stopped waving his fan around and pushed Caelus away with the back end of his polearm, stopped him in his tracks. 

“You stink,” he muttered. Caelus froze, and with a hurt look, his head snapped to you for confirmation. The way you were plugging your nose with your cheeks puffed out, a green tint to your skin told him all he needed to know. Dan Heng nodded sympathetically, patting his shoulder before taking a large step back. 

“Babe…” 

“Nope. Bye.” 

You ran off into the other car, trying to avoid your stinky boyfriend who ran after you. You let out shrieks of horror as you looked over your shoulder, seeing dust lift from the ground as he caught up to you in what seemed like such little time. Caelus had such long legs and amazing stamina — it wasn’t fair! Not at all! 

“Come back, baby! Give your fav boy a kith!” 

“NONONONONO-”

—————

He caught up to you in the end, trapping you between him and the couch. You were so lucky that the smell wore off a bit and wasn’t as potent as before. If it was, you were sure you would’ve died beneath him. You loved Caelus with all your heart, but when he would make the ship go off course and travel back to Jarilo-VI to go dumpster diving, you would rather have Blade stab his shattered sword through your left—

Anyway…

“Baby…” Caelus dragged out a whine, his lips pressed against the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you were in a daze, scrolling away at random news articles on your phone. You let out a hum, kissing his temple.

“Do I really smell that bad?” 

“PFF-”

The whole train burst out into fits of laughter. March, once again, choked on her spit and ran around the car as she hit anyone she could, repeating what Caelus asked with stutters and heavy wheezes. Dan Heng chuckled before going straight-faced again; Welt pulled a classic old man wheeze, and Pom-Pom giggled; Himeko jolted forward, slapping her hand against the table (if you couldn’t tell, she was quite tipsy). 

“Baby, don’t tell me you’re serious…” You respond, cupping Caelus’ cheeks. You can see the way his eyes glazed over a bit, his cheeks puffed out with pink, slightly chapped lips, pouting. You could never resist that face, for it was the one he gave you when he asked you out for the first time. And again, and again, and again until you finally accepted. 

The human-raccoon nodded, a small whine leaving his lips. Your eyes softened, pulling him closer as you gently rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “You smell horrible, Caelussy. But I still love you.” 

“NOOoOOOo,1 I don’t! I smell-” He paused, grabbing a fistfull of his jacket and forced it to his nose, taking a long whiff. He was fine at first.

Until he almost barfed on you. 

“GET OFF????” You shrieked, pushing him away and running to the opposite end of the room in .2 seconds, hiding behind Welt who protected both you and Pom-Pom from the influx of sludge that was about to surge out of Caelus’ mouth. 

You paused. The room was silent, and so were the stars. You waited…and waited…and waited. 

No gagging. 

No sniffling.

No nothing. 

Caelus only stood there…menacingly. He was laughing. Hands clutching his sides like he was the funniest person in the world — slumped over like the hunchback from that Disney movie, giggles rolling off his tongue like the Mad Hatter. You stepped away from Welt silently, a shadow cast over your eyes.

You dragged a breath: in… and out. 

“I gagged all of you! AHAHAAHA-”

…

Nobody wanted to talk about what happened to Caelus after that. Dan Heng decided to sort it in the files of… ‘The Unspoken.’ 

tags: @maitadori , whoever else wants 2 be tagged !!

[hotluncheddie]

I'm currently thinking about Eddie mildly teasing Steve about his weight gain!!! like he notices Steve has to sit with his legs spread wider than he used to in order to accommodate his big belly that sits in his lap now..... and he's like Steve can you even sit with you legs together anymore ? 😏 and Steve is like Yes !.... cue Steve wiggling and shifting and having to heft his belly up so he can get his legs together... then he's sitting and he's like There. See? and Eddie managed being a brat for two seconds cause now he's like 🥺 aw you're uncomfy no come on spread out take up as much room as you need, baby. can I get you anything? can I unbutton your jeans for you? can I touch your belly?

Anonnnnnnnn!!!! Yessssssssss!!!

I wrote this in a daze first thing after waking up this morning lol

U really gave me the brain worms so ty for that! Mwah!

(Also if you’ve sent me an anon before promise that I will get to it - I have one on the works also about Steve with a big belly that rests in his lap so, do not fear, it will be answered)

have some hurt/comfort belly kink wg steddie ;3c

-

Maybe Steve had holiday he needed to take, and it coincided with Eddie having a few days of, and some shorter shifts.

Steve spreads it out, some long weekend and 4/5/6 day stretches where he has time off. They stay in, Steve stays in, and Steve eats.

He eats near constantly, during his holiday time. only moving to go from bed to couch or couch to bathroom. Eddie bringing him meals to eat and snacks inbetween. He’s not stuffed to the brim, (he does that when he get home from work - going to bed with Eddie fawning over his groaning belly) but he spends the whole time full, always food in there, always comfortably bloated.

And by the end of the month, or so, where he has most of the time off, shifts only here and there, he’s noticeably bigger. His belly pushing out against his T-shirts again. And pale fleshy roll slipping out of the bottom of anything that’s over six or so months old.

He’s bigger when Eddie watches him bending over to tie his shoes and return more red faced. And when he has to pause cooking in the kitchen to rest his belly on the counter with a sigh, taking the weight off his lower back. How he gets a little winded at the end of a flight of stairs. How he grunts a little louder when he flips from one side to the other in bed. Big pale belly spreading on the mattress between them.

Eddie notices. Eddie knows Steve notices -he must do.

But Steve doesn’t say anything.

Even when Eddie lovingly pokes fun at these new little actions. When he traces the strip of skin that escapes his too small clothes. When he pauses in bed to cover Steve’s big belly in kisses. Steve doesn’t point out how he's bigger, if he feels it, feels how his belly gets in the way so much more now.

And he used to, is the thing. Use to say it and get them both all riled up, get them in the mood in a few short words. Both turned on and amazed by his changing body.

So Eddie’s confused. So he does what he does best - is a little bit of a brat about it.

Steve is sitting on the sofa after work, he went to the diner with Robin so he’s already ate. But Eddie’s going to offer him desert, especially if he can get him to be good and admit what’s going on first. Just wants to feed him and dote on him and watch his belly round and stretch pink.

Steve is already noticeably a little full, drinking a coke and watching a basketball game. His belly thick and wide and he’s started spreading his legs to accommodate it, letting it sit across his lap and sink between his chubby thighs.

Eddie doesn’t really think it through, he just goes for it, leaning over with both hands leaning on Steve's knees. Smirking, eyes dark, ‘can you even sit with your legs together anymore big boy?’ Goading.

And Steve downs his coke, gets that competitive little glint in his eye that Eddie loves - that makes him hold Eddie down and fuck him extra deep. But the set of his jaw is strained.

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes. ‘What would you know, Munson.’ And he smirks, both of them playing the game. But Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eddie stands back up straight, waving his hand as if to say; well, go on then. And steve huffs, scooting back a little and pulling his thighs together. Wiggling and then having to lift his belly with a grunt, moving under it and settling it back on top of his clamped together legs. It mounds out before him, moving with each breath and a strip of stretch marked skin is peaking out at his hip.

‘There, see.’ Steve says, a little breathless, cheeks flushed and eyebrows scrunched.

He looks. Big… ‘that looks.. really uncomfortable.’ Eddie says, not really playing anymore.

Steve grunts again, shifting slightly, pushing at the side of his tummy. ‘No. ‘Sfine.’ He argues, visibly annoyed, not playing either.

Eddie sinks to his knees, ‘Steve.’ He says eyes big and pleading. Nudging Steve’s knees to get his to spread them back open.

Steve looks away, doesn't move his legs, cheeks ruddy and eyes a little glassy.

‘Please talk to me baby.’ Eddie says softly, hand resting on Steve’s thighs. They’re shaking a little from the tension, from being held together so tightly.

‘I was- I’m scared Eddie.' Steve sniffs. 'That I’ve gotten too big. Too big for, for you.’ Looking down at Eddie again. He looks, he looks so sad.

‘Oh baby no.’ Eddie says instantly, suprised, disappointed in himself. ‘No no no. God Stevie, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like that. This.’ Eddie splays his two hands on steve belly. Palms cupping the lower curve. ‘Is prefect, your perfect Steve. Prefect for me at any size.’ Eddie doesn’t break eye contact, needs steve to know how much he means this.

Steve sniffs, eyes big and wet but a little smile is curling at the corner of his mouth, some of the tension leaving his body.

Eddie nudges Steve’s legs with his elbows, shuffling forward so steve had to spread them, has to let Eddie in.

‘That’s it.’ Eddie coos shifting Steve's belly gently now that it's got more room. He rucks Steve’s shirt up to it sits below his soft chubby pecs, palms cupping and lifting the roll as his hips. Stroking the soft buttery part below his belly button, scooting impossibly closer, knees against the couch. making Steve spread and shuffle to he's splayed out and comfortable again. Sinking into the couch cushions with a sigh.

Eddie places a kiss on the top most crest of tummy, then cradles Steve’s soft cheeks in his hands. They’ll have to talk about it, what got steve so in his head, where the insecurity came from. But not now, right now his baby needs to rest, needs looking after.

‘You want a snack sweetheart, want dessert?’ Eddie strokes the soft skin under steve eyes with his thumb.

Steve nods, little sigh leaving his pretty pink lips. ‘Please Eddie, ‘m so hungry.’ He pouts, playful glint back in his eye. Hand resting over Eddie’s on his gut.

There he is, his Steve. Eddie smiles, leaning up and kissing Steve breathless.

wg taglist (message to be added or removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

...also, maybe, @tangerinesteve idk if ur into this but i see u in scoops' tags and u wrote that cozy thing with Steve on eddie's soft thighs and belly... sorry if im wrong

[julesdaydreams]

@rosekillermicrofic II May 2 - dread II word count: 956

I don't like canon all that much and I can't really write it so - naturally - I wrote it.

TW: Canon-compliant MCD, grief (a bit?) and murderous thoughts

Barty didn't know how he got here.

It was supposed to be a fairly unspecial day. He and Evan had woken up in the late hours of the morning, bodies intertwined, sharing lazy kisses and enjoying the fact that in the stressful days of the war they finally had a day to themselves.

Barty had made plans for the whole thing, from slow kisses in the morning, lazing about with the love of his life to a nice dinner in the evening. It was supposed to be only him and Evan.

And then the pecking began, forcing him out of his morning daze, draped over the love of his life and acknowledge the tawny owl at their bedroom window.

It was a letter. Demanding Evan's presence at a mission. That's all there was to it, but by now both Evan and him knew the Dark Lord's antics, knew that a “mission” could mean anything really, from a small job that was boring and tedious and over in about an hour or two to missions that required days of travelling and brought more than just a few broken limbs with them.

To say that Barty was afraid of what his boyfriend needed to do didn't quite cut it.

What settled in his stomach was sheer and utter dread.

Of course, Evan had reassured him everything would be fine. That it most likely wasn't something dangerous or the Dark Lord would've told them earlier.

Still, Barty couldn't shake the feeling settling into his bones. It felt like an omen that their good day was disrupted like this. He could almost see something going wrong and he desperately hoped it wouldn't be his boyfriend to suffer under the consequences

Evan reassured him again and again that everything would be fine and he'd be home with Barty lazing about in no time. He gave him a long kiss at the door, another reassuring smile and then he was gone.

It was dinner time when Barty got the letter.

About how something went wrong. How they were captured by Aurors. About how Evan didn't want to surrender. How he fought and blasted Moody's nose off in the process. How he was killed.

How Evan was killed.

That must be wrong, right?

Evan promised him dinner. Barty had lit candles at their small dining table, has made the effort of cooking something nice for the both of them.

Surely, this was all some crude joke. Surely, Evan would walk through their front door in just that moment, kissing Barty and talking to him about everything but the war over dinner.

Surely. The love of his life wasn't dead.

He couldn't be. If Evan had died, Barty would know, would feel it in his bones and down into his soul. Evan couldn't be dead, because if he was, Barty would be dead with him.

But the hours ticked by. And no matter how long he stared down the front door, no matter how long he prayed for his lover to come back to him, the door remained shut.

The war and just the general attitude of the Death Eaters didn't grant a loving goodbye. There were more than just Evan's body, face disguised behind the mask, but Barty would know his soulmate anywhere, from just his pinky if he had to. He knew it was him.

It hit him like a train the moment he got home and his front door banged shut. The moment he saw the candles, still on the table and burned down all the way.

He couldn't breathe. He felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and was lying there with Evan beneath the dirt where he left him.

He should've done something. Should've gone with him, told him to fuck the consequences and stay because this should've been their day - just the two of them.

He didn't know what to do with it all and their little flat made everything worse. Evan was all over it. In the pictures on the wall, still moving and all smiley when times weren't as dark. He was in the wilting flowers on the night stand - roses - Barty gave them to him just a few days ago and he was sure that they've been fine this morning, still blooming elegantly, but they've wiltered now, like they knew Evan was gone.

Barty couldn't stand it. And as if something possessed him, he just- destoyed it. He blasted a hole through the wall with one snap of his wand, burned half their furniture to the ground, smashed vases and decoration with his bare hands because he needed to do somthing with them right now, couldn't just sit there and pretend his whole life hasn't been ripped away from him in a day.

When he was done, standing in between the ruins of what had been his home - their home - not even 24 hours ago. And he felt hollow. What was lives purpose now? What would make him do the next mission? What was there to fight for in the war if the love of his life, his best friend, his purpose, was gone?

What would stop him from running into the next best auror, unarmed, and just let them have their way? Who would stop him-

No. He realized then, it was still Evan who he needed to live for.

So, he made a decision.

He would kill that fucking bastard that took Evan from him. Even if it was the last thing he did.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Racing Hearts - Part 3 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles have your first date. And the first encounter with his life in the public eye.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Uhh, you guys make me so happy! And I personally really love this chapter, because is so SWEET!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll

Morning sunlight streamed into the room as you stirred awake. You rubbed your eyes, still feeling a bit dazed by the events of the previous night. As you sat up, Sofia barged into your room, her eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Y/N! Oh my gosh, spill the tea! What happened after Charles drove you home last night?" Sofia jumped onto your bed, eager to hear all the details.

You blushed, feeling a bit hesitant to share everything, but you knew Sofia wouldn't let it go. "Well, we went up to this hill with a stunning view of the city," you began, a shy smile on your face. "We talked, and he was so sweet, Sofia. I've never felt this way before."

Sofia squealed, "That's amazing! I knew there was something special between you two!" Then she wiggled her eyebrows. "Did you kiss?"

You blushed and averted your gaze. "We did!"

Sofia squeaked and clapped her hands together. "OMG! This is so good! I knew this would work out!"

"Yeah," you nodded, "but I also told him about my past relationship and how I'm not really looking for anything serious right now. I didn't want to lead him on."

Sofia's excitement softened into concern, "Oh, Y/N, are you sure about that? I mean, Charles seems really into you. Maybe you should give it a chance?"

"I don't know, Sof," you replied, your uncertainty evident. "I don't want to get hurt again, and I don't want to hurt him either."

Just as you were deep in conversation, your phone chimed with a message notification. You picked it up, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Charles. Sofia leaned in, her eyes widening with curiosity.

"Well, are you going to open it or not?" Sofia urged.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the text.

Charles had sent you a simple but sweet message: "I had an incredible time with you last night. I can't stop thinking about you, and I would love to see you again soon if you're up for it. 😊"

Sofia's eyes lit up, "Oh my gosh, that's adorbs! What are you going to say?"

You blushed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I don't know, Sofia. I really like him, but I'm scared."

Sofia placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "It's okay to be scared, you. Just follow your heart and take things one step at a time. If you like him and enjoy his company, maybe it's worth exploring. You don't have to rush into anything serious right away."

You nodded, grateful for Sofia's support. "You're right. I'll reply and let him know I had a great time, too, and that I'd love to see him again."

"That's the spirit!" Sofia grinned, giving her friend a tight hug. "Just be honest with him, and everything will work out."

With newfound confidence, you replied to Charles's message, expressing your own feelings and agreeing to meet up again. As you hit send, you felt a sense of excitement about the possibilities ahead.

Sofia beamed, "See? It's going to be great! I can't wait to hear all about your next date!"

You laughed, "You're unbelievable, Sof. But thanks for being here for me."

"That's what best friends are for!" Sofia winked, "Now, let's get some breakfast and start planning your fabulous next rendezvous with Charles!"

As the morning sun painted the streets of Monaco with a warm glow, Charles and Pierre set off on their regular morning jog. It was a cherished ritual for the two friends when Pierre is in Monaco, providing a chance to catch up and share their thoughts.

"And then what happened?" Pierre asked as they jogged up the hill. Both athletes were slightly out of breath.

Charles couldn't contain his excitement, and as they settled into their pace, he began to spill the beans to Pierre about the incredible night he had with you.

"Mate, you won't believe it," Charles began, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Pierre matched his friend's enthusiasm, "Tell me everything!"

"Well," Charles began, "after we left the club, I took her to this hill overlooking the city. We talked for hours, and it was just so easy to connect with her. She's amazing, Pierre, and I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Pierre chuckled, teasingly nudging Charles, "You're smitten, mate."

"I think I am," Charles replied with a laugh. "But there's more. She told me about her past relationship and how she's not looking for anything serious right now. I understand where she's coming from, but I can't help but feel a strong connection with her."

Pierre nodded, understanding his friend's dilemma. "Well, take it slow, Charles. If she's worth it, she'll come around in her own time."

"You're right," Charles sighed, "I just don't want to mess this up. She's different, and I don't want to lose her."

Pierre smiled reassuringly, "I can see how much she means to you. Just be patient, my friend. Everything will work out."

As they continued their jog, Charles's phone buzzed with a notification. He slowed his pace for a moment to check the message. It was from you, and he felt a rush of anticipation as he opened it.

His face lit up as he read your response, and he couldn't help but share the news with Pierre. "She said she had a great time too, and she'd love to see me again!" Charles beamed.

"That's fantastic, frérot!" Pierre cheered. "Looks like things are heading in the right direction."

Charles nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "I can't wait to see her again. She's really something special."

Pierre patted his friend on the back, "Just take it one step at a time, Charles. You'll figure it out together."

Charles and Pierre finally settled on some stones at the peak of the hill, both catching their breath after the vigorous climb. Charles took a big sip from his water bottle before turning to his best friend.

"What should I do with her? What would you do?" Charles asked, seeking Pierre's advice.

Pierre pondered for a moment before responding, "Well, based on what I observed yesterday, she seems like a quite reserved person. I noticed her glancing around a few times, probably aware of all the curious vultures lurking nearby," he said, referring to the paparazzi. "It's clear she's not used to the public being so involved in her life, so you should keep that in mind."

Charles nodded, deep in thought. He was accustomed to living in the public eye, but he knew he had to be considerate of your feelings and protect you from any undue stress.

"You're right," Charles admitted. "I don't want to overwhelm her with all the attention. How about... how about I invite her over for dinner? We could cook something together."

Pierre burst into laughter at the suggestion. "Seriously, mate? You know you're a terrible cook!"

Charles grinned mischievously. "Exactly! But Y/N doesn't know that," he teased.

Pierre continued laughing, "Oh, this could be interesting. Go for it! And if the cooking turns out disastrous and she still stays, you know she's a keeper."

Charles chuckled, appreciating Pierre's support and humor.

Feeling confident in his plan, he picked up his phone and sent a message to you: "I want to see you again soon. Do you like cooking? How about a nice dinner at my place? :)" He hit send and eagerly awaited your response while he and Pierre continued to chat about their day and future plans.

Your phone buzzed, and a bright smile spread across your face as you read Charles's message. "A dinner date at his place? That sounds amazing," you thought to yourself. But as excitement welled up, so did your apprehensions about past relationships that left you hurt. You couldn't afford to let your guard down again, even if Charles seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Sofia's voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see your best friend's concerned expression.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "Yeah, I'm fine. Charles invited me over for dinner, and I don't know if I should go."

Sofia raised an eyebrow, "Why not? It sounds like a lovely idea."

Your vulnerability surfaced as you confessed, "I just don't want to get hurt again. Every time I let my guard down, I end up getting hurt."

Sofia's hand gently squeezed your shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I get it. But Charles seems like a genuine person, and if he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have invited you over for dinner. Besides, you won't know if it's worth it if you don't take the risk."

Taking Sofia's words to heart, you took a deep breath, realizing that you couldn't let your past experiences hold you back from the possibility of something beautiful with Charles.

After some contemplation, you picked up your phone and mustered the courage to text him back: "Sure, I'd love to. I love cooking. Just tell me what to bring."

Sofia beamed beside you, knowing you couldn't resist such an invitation, especially from someone you genuinely liked.

As expected, Charles's reply came swiftly, assuring you that he would handle everything and pick you up at 5 pm.

"That's perfect. We have enough time," Sofia exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. Your playful frown appeared as you muttered, "Please don't say for shopping," knowing that Sofia was always enthusiastic about retail therapy.

But Sofia was already on her feet, determined to make the most of your time. "Enough time to go shopping!" she declared, leading you out of the room.

As you ventured from one store to another, Sofia's enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but try on various outfits. By the time you returned home, you were laden with shopping bags.

After a quick shower, you found Sofia had prepared some outfit options for you on the bed. Sofia always had a knack for fashion, and you trusted your friend's choices.

Trying on the outfits, you finally settled on a black two-piece that accentuated your curves paired with a boho-style cardigan. Strappy sandals and simple jewelry completed the look. You stood before the mirror, your wavy hair cascading down your back, feeling confident and beautiful.

Sofia peeked into the room, grinning widely at the sight. "You look stunning, Y/N!"

You smiled back, grateful to have such a supportive friend by your side. "Thanks, Sofia. You always know what works best."

With the perfect outfit and newfound confidence, you were ready for the dinner date that awaited you with Charles. Excitement and nervousness intertwined within you, but you knew you had to embrace the possibility of happiness, even if it meant taking a risk.

"You look perfect," Sofia complimented, gazing at you with admiration. "But now go!"

"Thanks, Sof!" you replied, stepping out the door.

Exactly at 5 pm, Charles arrived to pick you up. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you; you looked absolutely stunning in your two-piece outfit, and he felt incredibly fortunate to spend the evening with you.

"Wow, you look amazing," Charles said, walking over to you and planting a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Blushing, you felt a flutter in your stomach at his sweet gesture. "Thank you," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Charles courteously opened the car door for you, and you drove to his apartment, chatting about your day, sharing laughter, and discovering common music interests. Upon arrival, Charles carried the grocery bags to the kitchen, and you admired his modern and tastefully furnished apartment.

"I hope you're okay with chicken and veggies," Charles said, showing you the fresh ingredients he had bought earlier.

"Sure, that sounds perfect," you replied, placing your bag on the floor and taking off your cardigan.

You admired the apartment's interior, with dark wood furniture and vibrant area rugs in the living room, sleek couches, and a cozy armchair. The kitchen boasted stainless steel appliances and a beautiful marble countertop. In the bedroom, a plush king-sized bed adorned with crisp white linens exuded comfort. Charles's passion for sports was evident from the trophies on display, particularly the wall with helmets in his other room. She also notices the white piano in the corridor.

"Thank you. I like your apartment," you expressed your appreciation as you made your way to the kitchen.

"Thanks," Charles called back with a smile, and you joined him in the kitchen.

"You're welcome. Can I help?" you offered, pulling your hair up with a scrunchy.

Charles found himself mesmerized by your natural beauty. You were absolutely stunning, and he caught himself momentarily lost in admiration before snapping back to reality.

"If you'd like," Charles replied, trying to hide his flustered state.

As you stood side by side in the kitchen, Charles admitted, "I have to confess, I'm not the best cook, but I promise I'll do my best," chuckling.

You playfully laughed, "No worries, Charles. It's all about having fun and trying something new together. We'll make it work!"

You settled on preparing a simple pasta dish with a homemade sauce. You took the lead, guiding Charles through the steps while playfully teasing him about his occasional kitchen mishaps. Charles found your laughter infectious and felt his nerves dissipate as you cooked together.

Amidst chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce, you exchanged lighthearted banter and shared stories from their past. The kitchen was filled with the delightful aroma of the sauce, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. As Charles watched you expertly work your way through his kitchen, he couldn't help but appreciate how easily and naturally you appeared.

"Do you want some white wine?" Charles asked, and you nodded.

"That would be perfect. I need some of it later for deglazing," you replied.

He fetched a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured them each a glass. Placing the bottle next to you, you smiled at him, but he noticed tears glistening in your eyes.

Concerned, he was about to ask what was wrong when he felt a burning sensation in his own eyes. As he glanced down, he saw the onions you were cutting, and you both burst into heartfelt laughter.

Wiping away your tears, you placed the sliced onions into a small bowl. Charles handed you the glass, and you toasted to each other.

After a bit of trial and error, you finally plated your creation – a delicious-looking pasta dish topped with freshly grated cheese and herbs. It might not have been a gourmet masterpiece, but you were both proud of your joint effort.

As you sat down at the table, Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. He looked at you, your eyes filled with excitement, and he realized that it wasn't about being a master chef; it was about the shared experience and connection you were building.

"Bon appétit!" Charles said, raising his glass.

"Bon appétit!" you echoed, clinking your glass against his.

You savored your meal, exchanging smiles and laughter over their culinary adventure. Charles may not have been the best cook, but in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was the genuine connection he was forming with you and the joy you found in each other's company.

"That was delicious," he said after they finished, and you smiled.

"It was," you replied softly, taking another sip of your wine.

Then Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers. "So I was thinking. How about a little walk? I could show you some of my favorite spots."

"I'd love that," you replied with a smile.

Charles's grin widened, and he got up from his chair, taking the dishes into the kitchen. You stood up as well and helped him clean everything up.

Then the two of you put on your shoes and then got out of the building.

As Charles and you strolled through the picturesque streets of Monaco, the glitz and glamour of the city surrounded you. The sun sparkled on the azure waters, and the gentle breeze carried an air of excitement. As you laughed and shared stories, you couldn't help but feel captivated by the charm of the famous Formula 1 driver by your side.

Little did you know that your carefree moment was about to be interrupted. Suddenly, a group of paparazzi appeared, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward, eager to capture every moment of Charles's life. It was a scene straight out of a movie, but you quickly realized that this was the reality of being in the spotlight.

Charles glanced at you with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this," he said softly, trying to shield you from the invasive attention.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I understand. Just a part of being you, I guess?"

Still, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as the paparazzi pressed in closer, bombarding you with questions and requests for photographs. It was clear that Charles was used to handling such situations, but you were taken aback by the intensity of it all.

Thinking quickly, Charles grabbed your hand and led you through a maze of streets, trying to shake off the paparazzi. You ducked into an alley and found a hidden path that led down to the harbor. Charles knew he had to act fast to give you some privacy.

"Follow me," Charles whispered, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

Curious and slightly bewildered, you followed him, your heart pounding with anticipation.

As you reached the harbor, he walked passed the guard, who just nodded at you and led you onto the jetty. You looked back and could see that the paparazzi weren't able to get across the guard.

When Charles stopped before a yacht, you looked at him.

"Is that... yours?" you asked, astonished.

Charles grinned, pleased by her reaction. "Yes, it is. My little escape when I need some time away from the limelight."

You couldn't believe your eyes. She had heard about the extravagant lifestyles of celebrities, but being invited to escape with Charles to his private yacht felt like a dream and also so out of place.

A harbor worker warmly greeted Charles and assisted him in untying the ropes. Stepping onto the yacht, Charles extended his hand to help you aboard.

"Thank you," you said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the luxurious yacht.

Charles climbed on top and started the yacht. You hesitantly followed him up the stairs, and as he began driving forward, you bumped into him. In a swift move, Charles caught you, holding you close against his chest.

Your eyes locked, and there was a moment of connection before you cleared your throat, gently pulling away from him.

With a grin on his face, Charles steered you out of the harbor.

"Where are we going?" you asked as she settled down next to him.

"You'll see," Charles replied mysteriously.

Without further words, he navigated the yacht out to sea before making a left turn towards a secluded cove. Gradually, he slowed down and finally stopped the yacht altogether. The vessel was now pointed towards the mainland, with the open sea behind them. Charles lowered the anchor and turned off the engine.

"Come," Charles invited, extending his hand to you.

You took his hand, and he led you down, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses from the refrigerator. Then, he guided you forward to the cushions on the front deck. You sat down, and he pointed towards the majestic mountains.

"The sunset is unfortunately not over the sea here, but if you can watch it like this... It's also really, really nice," he explained.

Astonished, you gazed at the mountains, understanding what he meant. "It's beautiful," she whispered, appreciating the stunning scenery and the thoughtful gesture.

As the yacht gently glided over the calm waters of the Mediterranean, Charles turned to you with a sincere expression on his face. "I'm really sorry about the paparazzi back there," he said, genuine remorse in his voice.

You smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Charles, you don't need to apologize. I understand that it comes with the territory of being a public figure."

"I know, but I wish it didn't have to impact our time together like that," Charles replied, a touch of frustration evident in his tone.

"It's okay, really," you assured him. "It's all part of your world, and I'm here because I want to get to know the real you, not just the famous F1 driver."

Charles's eyes softened, appreciating her understanding. "Thank you for being so understanding. It means a lot to me."

The sun had set by now, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink. You found the moment enchanting, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events.

"This yacht is incredible," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood. "How often do you escape to this private oasis?"

Charles chuckled, happy to shift the focus away from the paparazzi encounter. "I try to get away here whenever I can, especially during breaks in the racing season. It's my sanctuary, a place where I can unwind and be myself."

You shifted your gaze, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle in your heart. "Talking about that... When... Uh, when is your next race?" you asked, knowing that Charles's racing career would undoubtedly consume a significant part of his time. It was one of the reasons why you were hesitant about him, considering he'd be away for most of the year.

Charles let out a sigh. "Well, we're just about to get into Monaco Race Week next week. That's why I'm here already. I try to be at home as often as possible, but when it's Monaco Grand Prix, I can stay here longer." He paused, the two of you sitting together on the cushions. "There's actually something I wanted to give you," he continued and got up.

You observed him as he walked to the back of the yacht and returned with two envelopes in his hand.

"These are VIP passes for the race. If you want, you and Sofia could come and watch the race in the Ferrari Garage," he offered, handing her the passes. "Only if you want, of course. I would totally understand if you don't..."

You looked at the passes and then back at Charles with a smile. "I would love to see you race, Charles," you said, and his face lit up with delight.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, I have absolutely no clue when it comes to Formula 1, but I won't mind supporting you," you smiled, and Charles took your hand in his.

"You have no idea how happy this makes me," he confessed.

He looked at you intently, and then he gently placed a hand on your cheek. Charles' touch was warm and tender as your lips softly met. Your kiss was filled with affection and admiration, lingering on your lips before you parted. You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you kissed him back passionately.

"You make me happy, Y/N," he whispered against your lips, and you smiled into the next kiss.

You could have never imagined finding someone who brought you such happiness in Monaco, especially when you weren't actively seeking it.

[analoceits]

mourning tea

A03 link

summary: He bit his tongue to stop the spiteful feeling suddenly building in his gut, shaking it off of him like a dog that was freshly hosed down. He was being uncharitable; this was an olive branch, Patton should be appreciative. They were trying to get along more, he had asked for more effort like this, he had no right to be angry or annoyed. Just.. did Janus have to pick today? - - - It’s the anniversary of the day that king died. Things are somber.

note: hi!! when i wrote this fic i forgot that that would also be the twins birthdays just. uh just ignore that for me. pls and thank you <3. uhh enjoy!!

taglist: @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat, @thegoldenduckie

As soon as the bumps in the table cloth settled under Patton's fingers he took a quick glance around the room, and everything was practically flawless. The tea cups were lined up to the inch, the morning sun filtered through the barely parted curtains beautifully, and the tiles were practically glowing in the light. Even if perfection wasn’t achievable, this was close, he thought. He was proud of his work.

(It was too good, though. It couldn’t last. Perfect things rest on a thin line, and they’ll tip and topple with the slightest push of the wind, and even if you try to be gentle dust will seep in with time and either way you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t and-)

And Patton really needed to stop letting his mind wander today.

He cleared his head, taking a deep breath in - unclenching his jaw and unclenching his fists - and a deep breath out - easing the tension from his shoulders and lower back. There, back to focusing. He drew his attention to the little digital clock in the corner of the room and read the time - 7:28 AM. Janus should be here soon, he thought.

Of course he would be, this was Janus’s ideas after all. This.. meeting. The meeting he had proposed after the 5 year anniversary video, the one Patton accepted without missing a beat because he wasn’t paying attention to the date and was just so happy for them to get along. This tea party for grown children.

He bit his tongue to stop the spiteful feeling suddenly building in his gut, shaking it off of him like a dog that was freshly hosed down. He was being uncharitable; this was an olive branch, Patton should be appreciative. They were trying to get along more, he had asked for more effort like this, he had no right to be angry or annoyed.

Just.. did Janus have to pick today?

He shouldn’t blame Janus for the choice, it wasn’t intentional. He doubt any of the other sides remembered, let alone Janus. Thomas was so, so young when it happened; Patton was sure that after all these years he was the only one who even remembered what day it was, really. Who would hold the grief so close but him?

After all these years he could barely remember Romulus’s face himself; he was starting to blur in old pictures as the memory waned. Still, the thought of him - his smile, his patience, his calloused hands - it made his chest ache and always left him dazed. The grief never really left or eased, he just had to grow around it.

Usually, he would spend today curled up with his knees pressed to his chest in the darkest and warmest corner of his room and he would pretend. He would pretend to himself, without telling a soul - that there were four other sides. Virgil, Logan, Janus, and Romulus. He would pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong, as if it would save him the grief.

(It never did.)

It was the only way he could get through this day, at least he thought. Now, though, standing and biting back the sickly aching pain, he thought - just maybe - he could actually survive this. Painfully, but he could make the table and talk to Janus and breath like his lungs were still right, and it’d be fine. He’d numb his wounds and it’d be fine.

As soon as he pulled himself from his thoughts the toasted dinged behind him, to which he rushed over. Two slices, on for him and one for janus. He smeared a healthy helping of butter and jam across the modest breakfast, his hands barely shaking despite himself. He could survive this.

Right as he was setting the dishes on the table, there was a swish of the door and a settling click. Janus. “Oh, it looks perfect, thank you so much dear,” Janus’s voice was sweet and thick like honey, a soothing balm. Patton looked up to thank him and offer him his seat, and he choked on air.

Golden lace dripped down his shoulders across the edge of his capelet, rippling in beautiful waves and interspersed with black teardrop gems. His - what Patton now realized was a dress - faded to a beautiful golden at the end, occasionally dotted with those same black tear drops in am intricate pattern. His bowler hat was replaced for a sun hat - complete with a golden ribbon and a black veil. He looked beautiful.

Patton seemingly stared longer than he thought, because after a moment Janus laughed tensely and he averted his eyes, in what Patton half registered as embarrassment. “It’s alright, dear,” he soothed, “I didn’t expect you to be all fancied up like me - I’m just doing the for fun, anyway. The theatre of it all, you know.”

Patton wasn’t worried about being presentable, not today, but he didn’t dare look the gift horse of Janus ignoring his bright red face in the mouth. Instead, he nodded as firmly as he could and spoke, “thank you, Jan.” With a smile that managed to be only a little awkward. His thoughts were off-topic, severely off-topic.

After one more second of awkward pause, Patton forced himself to move, pulling out Janus’s seat for him and offering it to him with a soft smile. “The foods all still warm,” he promised as Janus settled in the seat and Patton took to his own across from his. Janus gave him a warm smile - with a tint of something else, and Patton tried his best to beam it back, asking “how are you?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he answered smoothly, blowing on the tea before taking a sip of it delicately. That same odd smile stayed after he drank, “I would ask you the same, but.. it feels a stupid question, considering the day and all.”

It took Patton a long moment to process the words as he stared blankly at Janus. As soon as the implication caught up to him, though, his shoulders seemed to knit together into one entity with how tense he got. Oh. Oh. Janus remembered. He picked today on purpose, didn’t he?

(Briefly, in the back of his mind he finally registered what the emotion lingering behind Janus’s smile was: grief.)

Janus watched his reaction with a mix of concern and mild confusion, a hand half reached out to him like Patton was something volatile to be treated with caution. Something seemed to click in his head, though, the moment after Patton came to his realization, and he quietly asked, “Patton.. you were aware I picked today with intention, weren’t you?”

Patton looked to the side and a gave a small, sad smile, and the lie was slipping out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself. “I.. just forgot what day it was, I guess that’s why it didn’t register,” he had a mildly forced smile on his face as he spoke.

Janus frowned at him. “.. Patton,” he said slowly and painfully, painfully gently, “you don’t have to lie to me, we both know it’s a good idea to do that.” He said, and despite the sarcastic words - he never seemed particularly snappy with him. All of his motions and words were slow, gentle, like Patton could break with the slightest push.

Patton wrung his hands out tensely, seemingly trying to look anywhere in the room but at Janus. After a tense second of this anti-staring contest or whatever he should call it, he forced out, “I just.. thought you wouldn’t choose a day like this for a tea party, that’s all.” The bitterness in his tone was guttural; unintentional but inevitable.

Before he could stumble out any forced apologies or reassurances to go with the surprisingly harsh words that just escaped him, Janus spoke first. It was a question, a simple one at that. “Ah, would you.. prefer I reschedule? It wouldn’t be a problem, you know.” He asked, still so gentle.

Patton stared at him, and in the thick of his gut he knew the correct answer was probably a ‘yes, please’. It was what he had wanted all along, but now - in a warm kitchen with nice lights and Janus smiling at him so sweetly, spending the rest of the day in his room seemed unbearable. He wasn’t sure he would survive that.

“It’s, uhm.. it’s not bad.” Patton promised, a bit of desperation seeping into his tone, pleading that Janus wouldn’t insist so they could stay like this - lovingly uncomfortable or whatever he could call it. It was better than alone, he realized, so much better than alone.

Luckily, though, Janus seemed to relent with ease, letting out an all too easy, “if you insist.” Patton watched his expression and had a very strange, but comforting thought. Maybe Janus didn’t want to spend today alone either.

With that on his mind, he took a warm drink of the tea. It was sweet in his mouth and down his throat. It was a little nostalgic, too - going over to Thomas’s nanas house when they were nothing but young boys.

When there were just five sides.

The pang of pain ate up the entirety of Patton’s chest with that thought, but before he could speak in an attempt to distract himself, Janus did. Outrunning him yet again, he asked, “what kind of jam is on the bread?”

It was a simple question, but one Patton couldn’t help but giggle at. “Crofters,” he said - then added, leaning closer and whispering as if it was a big secret, “I don’t think Logan will let us buy any other kind.” It was true, in his defense.

Janus smiled and gave an equally hearty laugh at that answer, “I’m not sure why I asked, of course it’s crofters.” After that he took a bite from the toast and smiled with satisfaction, “it’s sweet and toasted just right as well.” Then he gave Patton an oddly soft look, “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Padre.”

The words were warm, and sweet, and the pain of the day was less in Patton’s chest with that mind. This.. was easier than being alone, wasn’t it? Suddenly, in a warm kitchen with Janus smiling at him like he was the sweetest thing, a warm but dark room was unimaginable.

Despite those sweet thoughts, Patton’s mouth ruined the moment instantly. Before anything normal could be said, he blurted out the thought that had been on his mind since Janus had asked him that little question months ago, “why.. today?”

Janus gave him a surprised stare and Patton cringed, wishing he could take back those two words more than he had ever wished for anything. After a long second, Janus just very politely said, “it felt fitting.”

Patton knew for a fact that he should stop digging there. He had gotten what he wanted, which was Janus to not leave, and so it should be fine. But, staring at him as he stared back, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, “what does that mean?”

Janus sighed and Patton worried it was out of annoyance, but he kept up his polite demeanor nonetheless. “The..” splitting, Patton filled in mentally, “death, of king, seemed to sever the bond between us. So, having the fixing of that bond - or at least the start of it, be on the anniversary felt fitting.”

Patton stared. Death. He hadn’t ever called it a death before because, really, it wasn’t. It wasn’t. Sure, king was gone - but he didn’t die. The twins were still there. If the twins were still there, he was still there, but.. no. The twins weren’t him, were they? He had died.

It was somewhat inevitable that Patton was going to cry today. He was tired, and he was grieving, and he had woken up at an ungodly hour to set up the kitchen. It didn’t make it hurt less, though. He choked out the tears, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars like it would help. 

Patton managed to whisper one, choked word through his tears. “Penance.”

Janus cursed under his breath, awkwardly reaching out and setting a hand across Patton’s arm. “No, no, Patton please,” he begged, “that’s not what I meant. You aren’t guilty, you were seven, this isn’t a punishment. I..” He sighed, giving in, “I was lying. I don’t have any greater reason to this, I just-” he reached for Patton’s hand, intertwining their fingers like he was afraid Patton was going to leave when he spoke, “I just didn’t want to be alone today.”

Patton looked up tentatively, eyes still brimming with tears but expression soft, staring silently for a long, long second, before carefully clamping two of his hands around Janus’s, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. “Oh,” he said before softly adding, “I think thats ok, then. I don’t want to be alone either.”

Janus gave him a soft smile back. The kitchen was warm.