#and honestly he's right about needing to take time for yourself

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

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The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 2.3k | first part

“Okay, what was that?” Gareth asks the moment they are inside the room they are using as a dressing room for tonight.

“What was what,” Eddie answers.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

Eddie doesn’t answer, putting his best poker face on.

“That weird mating ritual you have been performing with the boy in the front row the whole night, maybe?” Jeff adds.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Eddie says, his voice flat as he tries to avoid the other’s gazes. He takes a towel to dab at his forehead.

“Come on, man,” Freak butts in, “you told him to stay after the concert, you have told Chrissy to get them here. We said we were not going to be that kind of band, that we were going to be like My Chemical Romance: no groupies and after concert dnd sessions.”

“Yeah, if you go with that guy what happens to our dnd session.”

“We can play dnd any other day, okay?” Eddie snaps, his hands stretched in front of him. A part of him thinks he looks like that meme of Chris Pratt in front of the dinosaurs, the other part of him detests that he thought of him. “I will make it up to you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to our DM?” Freak asks, his voice serious.

“Yeah, what is this talk about postponing dnd for some boy?” Gareth adds, there is something in his tone Eddie doesn’t like.

“Some boy? Some boy? Am I the only one with eyes in this fucking band? He is the hottest person that has laid eyes on me and I’m not letting you fuckers take that opportunity from me for one session of dnd or I swear to God I am killing every one of your characters.”

The boys don’t answer, they look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Wow” a voice says from behind Eddie.

He doesn’t recognize the voice but the expressions on the rest of the band in front of him make him freeze. They go from slightly annoyed to wary and to bemused. Mainly a mix of all at the same time.

The sounds of steps approaching them break the silence that had fallen in the room, before a voice finishes breaking it.

“How does dnd work with you nerds anyway, are you all bards or what?”

The boys drop their mouths open. Eddie still doesn’t recognize the voice, but there is only one person it can belong to. He sounds just as good as he had imagined. Eddie is honestly afraid of turning around after what the boy- Steve- has surely heard.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” a woman’s voice says. There’s the sound of a hit and a quiet ‘ow’ from Steve under it. “He is just trying to sound all confident after whining-“

“Robin.”

“Telling me to not get my hopes up because he probably wasn’t anyone important and you just did this every concert-“

“Robin.”

“But of course he is the luckiest bitch in this planet and has his instant crush reciprocated and-“

“Enough!”

There are some muffled noises that Eddie can only guess are the girl trying to continue speaking. He wishes she wouldn’t stop. His knight in shining armour may be embarrassed, but the rant has put a smile on Eddie’s face, has given him confidence again. He crosses his legs and turns around slowly, his hands coming up beside him.

“By all means, let her continue.”

The adonis, the hottest man that has laid eyes on him, his knight in shining armour, Steve takes his hand away from the girl’s mouth and rubs it on his jeans. Eddie can only guess the girl has licked it. God he wants to be her so bad right now.

“Hey,” Steve says, his hand coming up for a small wave. “Sorry about Robin.”

“No need for that. I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” Steve answers with a cocky smile as he crosses his arms.

“Oh and now you are acting all full of yourself as if you didn’t ask for the name of the band like 20 times 2 hours ago.” Robin says.

“Will you please just shut the fuck up?” Steve asks with the confidence only a best friend can have.  

“Not a fan then?” Eddie asks amused.

“Not really my scene,” Steve answers. There is a scoff behind Eddie, and if he wasn’t so lost in Steve’s brown eyes, he may have moved to swat whoever it was. “But I sure am a fan now.”

There is now a groan behind Eddie, but he can only focus on the way his heart jumps at the words, the way Steve’s mouth lifts in one side in a smirk, how his eyes spark.  

“I can get you front row tickets to all the gigs, baby.”

There’s a gagging noise being Eddie, and this time he does turn around to swat at Gareth. The little shit just laughs at him.

When he turns back towards Steve he is looking between them with a smile on his lips and he looks- damn- he’s been looking beautiful since he saw him at the beginning of the concert that night, but now his hair is a mess from the almost two hours of sweating and moving around and Eddie’s on stage confidence is slowly being replaced by his fast beating heart.

“Look man I-“ Steve starts, “I don’t want to be a problem,” he adds, glancing behind Eddie as he bites his lip. The girl next to him- Robin- turns to him with an incredulous look on her eyes that Eddie is sure mirrors his own. “But you are hot, I want to take you on a date, and the others wanted to meet you.”

Robin rolls her eyes and looks at Eddie with an eyebrow up.

“The others?” Eddie manages to say, just before he remembers the teenagers around Steve all night.

“Yeah, they are with Chrissy, I asked them to give us five minutes before coming.”

Eddie is about to say something, maybe ask about the date Steve mentioned, but in a second the door is filled with said teenagers, the one with the curly hair in the middle of it.

“YOU GUYS ARE LEGENDS!” he exclaims. It makes Eddie less annoyed about being interrupted. No one has really called them legends before, they have just surpassed 150k listeners in Spotify.

It feels good hearing it.

The dressing room fills with chatter fast, the boys and the teenagers getting along without problem. They take photos, talk about music, about their instruments, about their dnd tradition. The bad part of it all is that Eddie gets separated from Steve. He catches his eye at some point and Steve sends a little wave his way that he answers. He is talking with Robin and Chrissy and, by what Eddie can hear, Chrissy is getting every video Robin has managed to get of Eddie’s and Steve’s interactions through the concert, even a closer video of the kiss than the one Chrissy managed to get. From what he can hear, she wants to post everything on their social media before ‘someone else does and steals the chance at going viral from them’.

Eddie doesn’t know how he feels about posting Steve like that, Eddie should have probably thought, about that before making out with the guy in front of all their audience. But he seems completely comfortable with all of it. Eddie guesses that comes with being as hot as Steve is and knowing it.

It’s some time later, enough that Eddie knows they won’t be able to stay much longer in the venue, that he finally has a chance to slip away. It’s perfect, he has just seen Steve leave the dressing room, probably in search of the toilet, and Gareth and the curly hair boy he has learned is called Dustin are so deep in conversation they don’t notice him stepping away from them and leaving too.

He catches Steve just as he is leaving the toilet. Eddie doesn’t stop to answer Steve’s surprised ‘oh, hey’ that turns into a more surprised ‘woah’ as Eddie pushes him back into the toilet and closes the door behind him.

“Hey” Eddie finally greets. Steve only looks at the closed door behind Eddie and then at him again with what Eddie hopes is amusement. God, he really hopes it’s amusement, he is just not realising how creepy this looks. “So, about that date.”

“Couldn’t wait until I came back?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Why is it so difficult to talk with a pretty boy? Eddie takes a deep breath, composes himself. Theatrics, he is good with those, they make him confident. “I was suffering, being deprived from your company by your companions, and didn’t have another option.”

Steve squints his eyes, “so you decided to have the date in the toilet?”

“What? No.”

Steve takes a step closer to Eddie so now their chests are almost touching. It hadn’t downed on Eddie before how they are almost the same height. It feels very important now when he has Steve’s face right in front of him, when he can look directly at his eyes, at how they drift down to Eddie’s lips. When his inevitably drift to Steve’s lips, the boy is biting his lower lip. “Eager.”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, he may have miscalculated this. There’s something he wanted to say. “No, I-“

Steve chuckles, takes a step back. “Relax dude. I know you haven’t really agreed to the date yet, we got interrupted and all that.” Eddie is about to speak, to agree a thousand times to the date, but Steve keeps talking. “You just offered to buy me a couple of drinks and called me hot,” he smiles when he says that.

“I want the date.” Eddie says before Steve can keep talking, “as soon as possible.”

Steve steps back closer. “Eager.”

“We are leaving on tour, won’t be back for three months.” Eddie explains before all his brain functions completely shut down.

“I can wait three months.”

“I can’t.”

The next second Steve’s lips are on his, his hands are on his hair, and it only takes a second for Eddie’s to do the same. Steve is even a better kisser than he was in front of the audience. Steve pushes him against the door, brings a hand to his hip, pushes one of his legs between Eddie’s. Eddie just groans and lets himself be pushed and moved. Kissed. “Fuck,” he whispers when Steve pulls away for breath. Steve smiles, takes one of Eddie’s hands in his, and kisses him again. It’s so sweet and filthy at the same time Eddie might cry, but he just moves his hips forward, and Steve answers in kind, grinding against him and getting a groan out of both of them. Maybe the rockstars that hook up with people after concerts are onto something. Though Eddie doubts he would want to do this with someone that is not Steve.

A knock on the door startles them both, Robin’s voice coming from the other side.

“Steve?” Steve and Eddie stop kissing to look at each other in silence, their eyes wide. “Chrissy said we need to leave already and you’ve been in there so long I started to worry you were kidnapped. Wait, you are in there, right? Also, have you seen Eddie? He disappeared.” Steve moves, an innocent thing that has his groin brushing against Eddie’s. And he is only a man. He moans. “WAIT! Are you both in there? GROSS.”

Steve snorts, making Eddie smile. They can hear a couple of steps moving away from the door before they come back and there is a bang on the door.

“Steve! Come out you dingus, have you forgotten about your pack of kids?”

Steve lets out a whispered ‘fuck’ before he looks at Eddie with an apology in his eyes. Eddie lets himself be moved away from the door so Steve can open it to talk to his friend outside.

“Hey.”

Eddie opens the door more so he can also fit in the gap, Steve sends him a look, smiles at his appearance, and then looks at Robin again.

“Hey” Eddie greets too. Robin is looking at them and there is no hiding what they have been doing. She can surely see their bruised lips, their wild hair. Eddie just prays she doesn’t look down and sees the bulge in his pants.

“You two are gross, was making me see that once tonight not enough?”

“You have not really seen it this time,” Steve points.

“Still.”

“You are the one that came to interrupt.”

“And for a good reason! Your kids.”

“What about the kids,” Eddie asks.

“He promised to take them home.” Robin says.

“I promised to take them home.” Steve says at the same time, a resigned tone in his voice. He turns to Eddie, his brown eyes sad, and pinches his nose.

“Can’t she take them home?” Eddie points to Robin, and they both turn towards her again.

Robin takes a breath, stops, looks at them, looks at them, sees the tent in Eddie’s pants. Grimaces.

“FINE,” she agrees, and Eddie grins. “But you owe me. Big time.” She adds pointing at Steve.

“I’ll give you ice cream for life.” Steve says. It must be an inside joke because it makes Robin roll her eyes.

“Give me your car keys at least. Rockstar here can drive you home, can’t he?”

“I’ll have him home before eleven.” Eddie swears with a hand on his chest. The other two stare at him in silence. “A.m.” he adds.

“You heard him.” Steve says while handing Robin his keys.

“Okay,” Robin answers. She takes a step back. “Have fun.” She takes a couple of steps away before she turns around. “Use protection, he is a rockstar, we don’t know where his thing has been.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, but Robin is already running away.

“She is kinda right.” Steve says with a shrug. Eddie purses his lips. “But I have an idea on where it can be in the near future.”

“Lead the way.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s.

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

---

I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

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add yourself

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Formaggi e Frutta

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Insalata | Masterpost

Selecting the pairings for cheese can be deceptively complicated. Anyone can put some cheese on a tray and call it done but for it to be truly good some serious thought needs to be done. Texture, flavour, sweet vs savoury, creamy vs crunchy, all build up to a well rounded dish. The first bite of a juicy grape paired with tang of a strong cheddar, or the sweet bitterness of cranberry with the mellow creaminess of a brie. Every element has to work together to create a bigger experience. If you make these choices with care then you will have a show stopping course and all you had to do was some slicing.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You had been lingering in his office. He was perched on the edge of his desk with his arms locked around you, preventing you from leaving and ending your time together for the day. The two of you had been in this position for at least half an hour, every time you tried to extricate yourself he would pull you in for one last kiss which became two, then three, then he would remember another important matter you just had to discuss right now. So far you had covered Cabaret the musical, why linen was the superior summer material, his favourite type of pen to do signings and the lies he used to tell people about ghoul mating habits. And now you were discussing your favourite cheeses.

‘I honestly have to say I don’t think I have tried a cheese I didn't like,’ you admit after listening to him explain why Italian cheeses were by far the best in the world. He wrinkles his nose at you, shaking his head in disgust. As inconsequential as these topics were, you enjoyed hearing his typically outlandish opinions and his passionate defence of them. You may have even been guilty of disagreeing with him deliberately from time to time just to enjoy his attempts to convince you of his point of view. 

‘Even the stinky ones?’ He looks like even just thinking of them is a displeasure he can’t abide, the charmingly emphasised wrinkles above the bridge of his nose almost distracting you from his argument. ‘The French, thinking they can get away with crimes against dairy just because of a few good ones,’ he grumbles, pulling a laugh from you. 

‘I think the English are guilty of that too, I am afraid,’ you remind him. ‘Have you ever tried Stinking Bishop?’

‘Ugh!! Never and I never will,’ he shakes his head again refusing to even entertain the thought. ‘But, cara mia, that is why everything Italian is far superior,’ he says, lifting his eyebrows suggestively and you suspect he isn’t just talking about cheese any more.

‘With what I have learned in the last few months I can’t say I disagree,’ you reply against his lips as he is already reeling you in for another kiss. You don’t let him distract you for too much longer though this time. ‘I don’t think you should judge a cheese until you try it with accompaniments though. The right flavours paired with the right cheese can make all the difference.’ 

‘I suppose there is some truth to what you say, mia cuocoina,’ he trails off for a moment looking like he is waging a battle internally before he takes a deep breath and continues. ‘Speaking of cheese, did you know there is a farmers market in town this weekend? I have heard they have very many types of cheese on sale there.’

‘I had heard, yes. It happens every month.’ You think back fondly to those trips out of the Abbey with Mona. ‘We used to take it in turns to go and pick up some obscure ingredients as a challenge for the others. I haven’t had a chance to go for a while.’

‘Would you like to go to this one? With me?’ His hesitancy makes your heart melt. How this man could ever think you wouldn’t want to go with him you have no idea? As if you don’t willingly spend almost every moment of your free time with him.

‘Are you asking me on a date, Terzo?’ You tease, hoping to ease his worry a little. The two of you may have done everything backwards but you can’t help the little thrill you get from the idea of him taking you on a proper date. He had been watching you nervously as he waited for your response but at your gentle teasing the corner of his lips pulled up in a smile even as a light blush crawled across his cheeks. 

‘Si, I am,’ he says simply, lifting his head and looking you directly in the eyes, hypnotising you for a moment in his gaze.

‘I would love to go with you,’ you reply as soon as you snap out of it, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer. His wide smile always takes your breath away and you stand there for far too long, just grinning at each other before you realise you do really need to leave. You give him one last kiss before making your way back to your room, mind full of your upcoming date. 

The morning arrives and you are up early having explained to Terzo that the earlier you get there the better. It would be less busy, you got the best pick of the produce and all the tasters won’t have sat out for so long. Taking your advice he had agreed to leave the Abbey around nine, and also on your advice you both were skipping breakfast, not wanting to fill yourselves up before you get there. But his morning coffee is non-negotiable… 

After getting ready you let yourself into his rooms and start the coffee machine. You can hear him moving about already so you don’t worry about getting him up, but instead have time to fuss about… well, everything. You smooth your hands over your outfit as you wait letting your nerves get the better of you for a second. It’s not to say you didn’t usually make an effort with your appearance, you did, but your clothes and hair had to be practical when cooking even if just for him. This was the first time you had had the opportunity to dress up and for some reason it had your stomach in knots. 

You wore your hair down today, letting the dark waves cascade down your back where they were usually secured in a bun and your make up was light as you had considered the time of day - just a subtle base and some eyeliner, mascara and lipstick to add a little emphasis to your features. The dress you picked was one you had never worn before. It was black, as was the majority of your wardrobe, but the light cotton fell softly over your figure, the hem ending at your mid-calf. It was buttoned up from your chest to your knees, giving a glimpse of leg and decolletage you hoped would capture his attention without flaunting too much. The puff sleeves and broderie anglaise finish the look and make it, in your opinion, the perfect dress for a date at the farmers market.

Just as you finish the coffee you hear him come to the door. You turn around a cup in each hand to catch him frozen in the doorway. With one hand he is clinging to the door frame and then other is laid dramatically over his heart. He is looking at you as if he has never seen you before. He looks incredible himself, his hair slicked back as you had not seen it for a long time and his face surprisingly clear of his paints, given you were leaving the Abbey. He is wearing an off-white revere collar shirt, habitually unbuttoned half way down his chest over tailored linen trousers in a soft dove grey with black woven loafers. He has a matching linen blazer over his arm, and he looks like he has just stepped out of the pages of a Milanese fashion magazine.

‘Good morning, Terzo,’ you greet as you go to hand him his coffee but he ignores it in favour of pulling you in for a kiss, letting go of the door frame and instead wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand glide down your body over the smooth fabric. You hum into his mouth enjoying his attentions but slightly worried about spilling coffee on you both as you hold them over his shoulders. ‘I could get used to this sort of greeting,’ you say when he lets you pull away, still seemingly at a loss for words. 

‘Grazie,’ he whispers, finally taking his coffee and savouring the first sip before continuing, letting his eyes roam all over you. ‘You are, well… beautiful doesn’t even cover it, I think. Sei una visione di bellezza, come non ne ho mai viste.’ He does this every now and then, slipping into his native tongue when he can’t seem to find the words to express himself in English. You don’t understand what he is saying but the sentiment is clear, so you let the melodic words wash over you and let your smile widen in response. 

‘You are looking very handsome today too.’ You cup his cheek with your now free hand and let him nuzzle into your palm. ‘I have been looking forward to this all week.’ 

‘Me too, cara mia.’ He places his hand over yours before taking it in his. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘I’ve got my coffee, I've got you, I don't think I need anything else. And if we leave now everyone will still be at breakfast so we shouldn’t be bothered.’ With a nod and a smile he leads you from the kitchen through his rooms and out to the corridor, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You realise then that this is probably going to be the first time he has left the Abbey since returning from the last tour and what a big step this must be for him, as well as the two of you. You walk through the corridors quickly, leaving a plausible distance between you in case you were seen by anyone but before you reach the main entrance he leads you down an old corridor that, as far as you knew, only led to an older unused wing of the Abbey. 

‘Where are we going?’ You ask him as you follow him along the twists and turns of the dusty corridor but he just shushes you and continues as though he is looking for something. To your surprise he ignores the few doors you pass coming to a stop at an old painting covered in dust, which depicts what you can only assume is a life-sized satanic knight posing in his armour in the landscape of hell. Without any further explanation he feels around the edge of the frame until you hear a click and the painting swings forward revealing a secret set of stairs leading down to a door where you can see slivers of daylight seeping in where it has warped in its frame. Taking your hand he helps you down the steps before having to give the door a shove once, then twice before it opens and you find yourselves at the side of the main Abbey just outside the tall garden wall.  

‘This is the way we used to go when we didn’t want anyone to see us leaving,’ he says, shooting you a mischievous grin. ‘When we were boys especially and the older sisters wouldn’t give us the time of day we would sneak into town…’ He trails off realising the story he was about to tell you and his expression turns a little sheepish. ‘Well, you know how teenage boys can be.’ You shake your head at him good naturedly but take his offered hand so he can lead you down what is clearly a well trodden path through the public gardens to a side gate that opens on the main road into town.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The first and arguably most important consideration when preparing a dish like this is making everything bitesize. Slice things too small and the flavours will not balance well, slice things too big and you will end up with all sorts of mess, but getting it just right? A slice of cheese, a piece of fruit, a spoonful of chutney, a sliver of meat could all fit on a cracker and be eaten in one perfect bite.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It is a short pleasant walk especially on a morning like this. The Abbey is about half a mile from the town and despite the occasional comment or funny look, the residents seem to have accepted sharing the area with a satanic church a long time ago. The residents of the Abbey brought a lot of business to the local shops and trades people, doing their best to contribute to the community they were fringe members of which served to strengthen the tolerance of their presence. You yourself had good relationships with the local food stores, avoiding spending your budget at the supermarket as much as you could, so you had never experienced anything but a sideways glance from some of the more conservative members of the community. 

After about fifteen minutes you reach the town square which is already bustling with life even at this early hour of the weekend. Rows and rows of stalls fill the usually open space and there are already plenty of shoppers drifting from stall to stall. Having finished your coffees, you take his and put them in the nearest bin before pausing so you can come up with a plan of action.

‘When I come with Mona we try to be strategic,’ you explain as you try and suss out what the closest stalls are selling.

‘Oh, and why is this? To get the best produce? The best deals?’ He asks inquisitively, tilting his head as he thinks. You wish you could say those were the reasons but it was much less professional.

‘Nope. It is so we don’t get too full before we have eaten everything we want.’ He laughs loudly, clearly surprised at your reasoning but you try your best to keep your face straight. ‘It is important you know!’ you insist as his laughter calms.

‘You have been training me up for this moment, no?’ he says, patting his belly and winking at you knowingly.

‘Bigger appetites than yours have been defeated by the farmer’s market tasters, I will have you know,’ you respond, doing your best not to get distracted by his insinuation.

‘Psh, I could eat one of everything and still have room for whatever delicious dish you have planned for tonight.’ He winds his arm around your waist pulling you against his side as you walk together to the first stall. You can’t keep up your serious façade, his confidence and manhandling bringing a flush to your cheeks, at least until you realise what he said.

‘Need I remind you it is Saturday and my day off.’ You prod him in the side in retaliation and he jumps slightly when you catch his ticklish spot. He grabs your finger before you can poke him again, a little tug of war ensuing before he lets you free with a stern look.

‘Well I can cook for you then,’ he says, snapping his fingers as the idea comes to him. You dip your head for a moment, your chest feeling full at his insistence you spend even more of today together. Until the reality of him cooking anything for you sinks in. You had long suspected that he lacked even the most basic cooking skills, which was confirmed the only time you ever let him try to help you.

‘And what exactly are you going to cook for me?’ You ask as you reach the first stall filled with assorted jars of conserves and jams.

‘I will cook…’ He pauses, looking around at the closet stalls. ‘Cheese!’ he exclaims loudly, drawing some looks and a chuckle from the cheesemonger a couple of stalls over. He clears his throat, quieting his voice. ‘Cheese, cara mia, like we talked about the other night. Cheese and crackers and fruit and chutney. Like this!’ He picks up a jar of spiced cranberry chutney from the stall.

‘That will be 55 krona please, sir,’ the lady behind the stall tells him. He hands the jar to you and fishes his wallet out of his pocket, handing her cash and insisting she keep the change. 

‘That’s not exactly cooking is it,’ you scoff, putting the jar in one of the many tote bags you had thought to bring along. ‘But that being said, I would be happy to join you this evening.’ 

‘Maybe not but I can assure you I will put a lot more effort into dessert,’ he replies with a smirk as he pulls you towards the cheesemonger. ‘Now, Signior, I need a selection of your best cheese for mia cuocoina, and a little advice.’ 

He leads the way around the market, insisting on tasting this and that and asking questions of the vendors about flavour pairings and serving suggestions until your tote bags are beginning to weigh you both down. You find a bench at the edge of the square and flop down onto it taking the weight off your aching shoulders. He follows after you, sliding the bags to one side so he can sit right beside you. 

‘Try this, cara mia,’ he holds a small pastry to your lips, one he has already tried if the tell tale crumbs around his lips were anything to go buy. You almost refuse, your tactical plan having flown out the window long ago at his insistence you taste test almost everything. He looks at you beseechingly though and you cave, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed it to you. Before he can pull away though you close your lips around his fingers, getting your own back the only way you can right now. He freezes, his pupils blown wide as he watches you suck the tips of his fingers. 

‘Fancy seeing you here.’ A voice you recognise breaks through your lustful haze. You almost choke between the pastry and Terzo whipping his fingers from your mouth as if they were burning. You swallow your mouthful without even registering if it was nice or not as you turn to see Lilly and Rich stood before you. You jump up quickly, offering them each a hug, then trying to stand between them and Terzo, wracking your brain to explain why you were out in public with Papa's fingers in your mouth. 

‘Hi guys, what a lovely surprise. You should really try the pastries from over there, they are very good…’ You can feel your face burning completely at a loss on how to explain away what they must have seen.

‘Will Papa hand feed them to us as well?’ Rich asks sardonically, looking at you with your eyebrows raised as if waiting for an answer. At least until Lilly elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

‘It’s so nice to see you and to see you too, Papa. Hello!’ She says leaning around you to offer Terzo a wave. He stands dusting crumbs from his face and his shirt and carefully keeping some space between you as he shifts to see them both. 

‘Hello, Sister…’ He glances at you and you realise he has never met them before and some introductions are in order.

‘Lilly, Ter… Papa, this is Lilly and Rich. We work together in the kitchens.’ Lilly smiles at him offering another wave which he returns but Rich still doesn’t look impressed, clearly wanting to confront you both on what he saw.

‘Ah, si. Hello, Sister Lilly and Brother Rich. And I can assure you those pastries are delicious whether fed from my own hands or not.’ He switches his Papa persona on, and it’s a little jarring after all this time. ‘Sorella here, I have tired her out having her carry all these bags of things I wanted. I thought I better not tire her arms any further.’ 

‘Right,’ Rich replies slightly at a loss for words. You don’t think his story has helped the situation at all but though he looks a little awkward and uncomfortable, it doesn’t seem like Terzo really minds the two of you getting caught, so you take a deep breath and relax.

‘All this shopping and eating… I could do with another coffee, I think. Si…’ He nods to himself, already heading towards the coffee stall. ‘Anyone else?’ He asks almost as an afterthought and you all nod. ‘Four coffees then, ok.’ The three of you watch him go but as soon as he is out of earshot, they both turn to you.

‘What the hell was that?’ Rich asks in an angry whisper. ‘I thought you were just doing your job and he was far too stressed about getting fired to try it on? Not that it looked like he had to try that hard…’ He had always been protective of the three of you, but you couldn’t help feeling defensive when he had no idea what had been growing between you.

‘Oh leave her be, they both looked happy while they were doing it. What does it matter?’ You smile at Lilly appreciatively, thankful for her understanding.

‘Guys, please just listen.’ You knew you had to explain something. ‘We, well, look, we just-’ You can’t even find the words to start. It’s not like with Mona where you can tell her everything and she just understands, not that you have time for that anyway. You glance over to the stall and see him standing in line, carefully studying the menu and certainly not looking back over every few seconds. ‘I… I can’t really explain what we are; not at the moment,’ you sigh. ‘But Lilly is right, we are happy, everything is fine.’ 

‘You do look happy, and he looks better too.’ Lilly says reassuringly and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

‘Yeah, no one can accuse you of slacking on feeding him.’ Both you and Lilly turn to glare at him.

‘Don’t be a dick, Rich!’ she admonishes him, treating him to another elbow to the ribs.

‘What?’ He says defensively rubbing his side. ‘He is looking a lot more well-fed than he ever did before.’ It isn’t an apology but it is probably as close as you will get from Rich. 

‘Could you guys just keep this between us, please?’ You feel like you are begging, but the last thing you want is people finding out about the two of you through gossip. You hadn’t really thought about it or discussed it but you were sure that Terzo would like to tell his brothers himself when the time was right.

‘Keep what? There’s nothing to tell anyway, right Rich?’ She threatens him with her elbow one last time but relents when he agrees with a flinch.  

‘Right, nothing to tell.’ The three of you look at him just as he looks away sharply and he gets handed the tray of coffees. You feel a little relief but the silence is awkward as you wait for him to make his way back over. 

‘Caffè for everyone!’ He announces on his return and you each take a cup.

‘Thank you Papa, that was very kind,’ Lilly thanked him genuinely. ‘But we better get going. We have a list. Mona has really taken to bossing us around since you've been gone.’ You know she is joking, but it still sends a pang through you. As happy as you are in your current position, you do miss them. ‘Anyway, it was lovely to see you! Bye!’ She grabs Rich by the elbow and drags him away with only one last glare over his shoulder. 

‘Terzo, I’m sorry,’ You say slumping back onto the bench.  

‘They didn’t know about us?’ He asks cautiously. He sits beside you but leaves enough space to be considered decent and keeps his hands to himself. You can’t decide if you are disappointed or not. 

‘No, they didn’t.’ You shoot him a sideways glance and he is looking down at his coffee, his expression unreadable. 

‘So, you haven’t spoken to anyone about…?’ He trails off, neither of you at a point of being able to define what is going on between you. ‘Even before, you didn’t seek out your friends?’

‘Well I did… Mona, but I trust her. She would never say anything.’ He holds up a hand to halt you and you feel a bubble of panic starting to grow in your chest.

‘That’s not what I meant, cara mia.’ He finally looks at you now and the bubble dissolves. His eyes are warm, full of care. ‘I am glad you spoke to your friend about this, just as I am glad of her discretion. I would hate to think about you being so upset and also alone.’

‘You were dealing with it all alone.’ His hand rests on the bench between you and you place yours over the top. It feels wrong not to be touching at all during such a conversation. 

‘Ah, I am used to it,’ he says, brushing you off. ‘I am used to it.’ He turns his hand under yours loosely lacing your fingers together. ‘And anyway, I am not alone anymore am I?’ It’s a slow smile that grows across his face, like he is only just realising it now. 

‘No you aren’t,’ you confirm, squeezing his hand and returning his smile. If you had your way he would never be alone again. 

‘May I ask,’ he pauses like he isn’t sure he wants to ask what he is about to say. ‘Why you didn’t tell your other friends?’ But this is something you can easily offer him an answer to.

‘Well it’s just… Lilly is young, she is only twenty. It feels a little odd talking to her about relationships when she feels like a little sister, and Rich? Well, he is the biggest gossip in the whole kitchen. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but he just gets a little carried away sometimes.’ You can’t help your fond smile. ‘And he is pretty protective of us, even if he can be a little bit of a dick about it.’

‘I see, I see.’ He seems happy enough accepting your reasons. ‘Are you ok?’ He inches a little closer now, already over keeping a sensible distance. 

‘Yeah, I am.’ You decide even as you are saying it. The confrontation with your friends could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse. And it’s better you get caught by your friends then any other random inhabitant of the Abbey. In fact, you should have foreseen this happening, going out together so close to home. You wonder if he feels the same though. ‘Are you?’

‘Si, I think it is time to go home though,’ he says and you nod in agreement. You think you have both had enough excitement for today. ‘I called for a car while I was waiting for the coffee,’ he admits a little sheepishly. 

‘Oh, thank Satan.’ Your relief is palpable, both your full stomach and your sore shoulders thankful. ‘I thought we were going to have to carry all of this back.’ 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Presentation is the second most important consideration and for that you need a suitable foundation. Depending on the number of people you are catering for you need a vessel large enough to hold enough food. The material is less important, dictated by aesthetic preference, whether you prefer wood, glass, slate or porcelain. Consider whether you need vessels for particular ingredients, additional cutlery to serve. By planning for all eventualities you make sure the meal is a success.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

With a plea from you and an order from Terzo a ghoul assists in carrying the bags back to his rooms, leaving them on the kitchen table before departing to wherever it is ghouls go when off duty. You begin to unpack, starting to sort out the haul to put in the appropriate storage but he comes behind you taking your wrists in his hands and steers you back out of the kitchen. 

‘Mia cuocoina please,’ he murmurs against the back of my head. ‘I need peace for the art I am about to create.’ You try to suppress your laugh but it comes out an inelegant snort.

‘I can help,’ you reply, twisting in his arms to look at him. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’ 

‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It is my turn to make food for you!’ He continues shepherding you backwards towards his office. ‘Go have a nap, visit friends, whatever.’ he drops a kiss on your lips before spinning you back around. 

‘You may come back in two hours,’ he swats at your ass as he opens the door and lets you out into the hallway. 

You pause for a moment wondering where you even wanted to go. Going back to your rooms wasn’t very appealing, there were no distractions there and you knew the time would crawl by. The kitchens were out of the question right now if you didn't want to be subjected to the interrogation you were spared in town, something you were keen to avoid as long as possible. The gardens were an option except you could still feel the ache in your arms from carrying the bags around the market and you know for certain if Primo catches you in the garden there was no chance you would be leaving unencumbered by whatever vegetables he could give you. 

Your wandering takes you past the upper clergy offices, mostly dark and unused of a Saturday afternoon but you spot movement behind one of the doors and you are not surprised when you realise whose it is. There is only one person you know that would willingly work on a Saturday and fortunately that was a person you had been meaning to speak to. Since you and Terzo had joined his brothers for lunch in fact. You had no sweet treats prepared for him today but you were sure he could do with a break. He could always do with a break. 

Approaching the closed door you knock softly and wait for him to answer and the slightly frantic scuffling you can hear lets you know you won’t have to wait long. But a few moments pass before he answers the door. His exhaustion is plain on his face, sadly not much different than any of the other times you have seen him lately. 

‘Sorella,’ he says with a tired smile when he registers it is you at his door. ‘How can I help you today?’

‘I found myself at a loose end and saw you were working!’ You explain as he holds the door open for you and gestures to the seat before his desk. ‘And why are you working on a Saturday?’

‘There is so much to do and so little time,’ he says, flopping back into his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘I was not busy today anyway so I thought why waste time when there is so much to catch up on.’ The clergy’s decision to remove Terzo from his position has caused more problems than you had first thought. You can’t help thinking how odd it is that no new Papa had been appointed after all these months when there was clearly a need but you set that aside for now.

‘Even you need a break Cardinal.’ You struggle to keep the worry from your voice.

‘Well you are here, let's have a break now.’ His smiles grows more genuine as he speaks. ‘I wished to speak with you anyway.’ 

‘Yes me too,’ you agree. It makes it easier now that he has brought it up himself. ‘I have been meaning to come and see you since the lunch but well, you know Papa, he was keeping me busy. Even on my day off he had me going into town with him to the farmers market.’ You are starting to worry your blush is becoming permanent and you hope your smile isn’t as sappy as it feels. If you plan to continue keeping your relationship quiet you really need to get better at schooling your reactions. 

‘Si, I imagine Papa has lots to keep you busy.’ he agrees laughing but his face turns serious. ‘He is.. Well he is treating you well Sorella?’ He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully, his fingers coming up to play with his moustache nervously. ‘Like a gentleman? When things are hard I think sometimes he can forget he is a good man.’ You sense that Copia may be talking from personal experience and having seen that side of Terzo yourself you are keen to reassure him.

‘I think I understand what you mean, Cardinal, he …’ You pause thinking over your wording just as carefully. ‘When I first began working for him he was different, while everything was fresh but he, we, found a compromise. He has apologised for some of his more thoughtless actions.’ Copia raises his eyebrows and you panic momentarily. ‘Oh nothing so bad and really, I had a lot of sympathy for his situation. I wasn’t expecting him to be at his best.’ 

‘It was regrettable what happened.’ He takes off his beretta and runs his hands through his hair. ‘It .. well it was unexpected for all of us, I think but it is good to see him doing better.’ He does look genuinely relieved even though the situation has clearly impacted him. ‘All this food seems to be doing the trick eh?’

‘The food probably has helped, yes,’ you laugh, and the rest you thought, keeping that to yourself. ‘But I think it is really just time, Cardinal.’ He would have improved with or without you over time but you do like to think you have helped him move on a little faster then he may have done otherwise. 

‘Now, can we discuss those notes you brought me to translate?’ His direct questions bring you straight back down from your romantic imaginings.

‘I was waiting for you to bring them up.’ You know you owe him something of an explanation  but you are not above waiting to see what he has worked out for himself.  

‘They, well I suppose I don’t know enough to say really,’ he begins confidently before tailing off. ‘But they didn’t read like professional recipes.’

‘That's because they weren’t but Cardinal, it’s not my place to say more, not that I even really know anymore.’ In this at least you can be honest. You could probably make a good guess as to who wrote out the recipes but you aren’t willing to voice that now. ‘He gave me some recipes and he never said where they came from or why that was all he wanted and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask. There were things said at lunch that might have given me some clues but even so.’ 

‘Si, before. I noticed that too.’ He takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘It has not been long since I was considered an outsider to them and outsiders really know very little by design. If it hadn’t been announced that I was also Nihils son then that would still be the case. But even though I never grew up the way that they did, well Secondo and Terzo anyway, I was here in the Ministry already and I saw what happened.’ 

You say nothing, waiting for him to continue sensing his need to unburden himself. 

‘I was brought up as an orphan you see and while most children in the church are brought up communally, orphan or otherwise, the Emeritus brothers were always separate.’ He switches into lecture mode but you still hang on his every word. There were very few people you mixed with who had been a member of the church for so long. ‘Primo has always been here, his mother was a Sister of great reputation chosen especially to birth an heir but Terzo and Secondo, their mothers must have met Nihil on his travels because they weren’t brought to the church until the were ten, Secondo only a few months before Terzo.’  

‘What happened to their mothers?’ A part of you feels bad even asking but your curiosity wins out. You would not feel comfortable asking Terzo himself this but it feels like the last piece in a puzzle you had been building since you had accepted this position. 

‘They just carried on with their lives I suppose. I know Primo fought with Nihil about it, that their mother’s should have been invited to join them or at least to visit but it was decided. No distractions, they had had ten years of normal life and now they were to prepare for their future as men of the Emeritus line.’ His expression turns wry as he continues. ‘It makes me almost glad that he didn’t acknowledge me until recently. I might have liked having brothers growing up though.’ You pat his arm where it rests on the desk offering what little comfort you can.  

‘Anyway I know Terzo’s mother tried for a while, sending packages of food and presents for him but I don’t know what happened after that. One day they just stopped coming.’ Your heart clenches, for Terzo, for Copia, for all of them. They may be in some of the most powerful positions in the Clergy but it was clear they had all been forced to sacrifice a lot for the privilege. 

‘It sounds like it wasn’t easy for any of you.’ Like any organisation there were machinations going on far above the notice of normal members like yourself, you weren’t naïve enough to think otherwise but you found it jarring learning that somewhere that had felt immediately like home and safety to you had treated these men so poorly.  

‘No I suppose not.’ He rubs his hands over his face, the conversation having turned heavier than either of you expected. After a moment he offers you a tired smile. ‘Now tell me more about this farmers market.’ You while away the rest of the time describing in detail the stalls and the tasters and when you eventually leave you hope you both are feeling a little lighter. 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Once you have your vessel and your ingredients prepared then all that is left is the arrangement. There are endless ways to arrange the food enticingly. If you want your dish to be eye-catching and mouth watering you must consider the balance of colour and texture. You can create contrast with light and dark meats or cheeses. You may introduce pops of colours with fresh fruits and berries and mix textures with a soft cheese, a juicy fruit and a crisp cracker. Complimentary flavours could be grouped, the arrangement of your board encouraging certain combinations both traditional and daring. Your final result will be a visually appealing and delicious dish to present.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It’s been a long time since you have had to knock before entering his quarters but it feels appropriate now, giving him a chance to finish the final touches to his creation before you enter. You almost reach the point of knocking again, wondering if he hadn���t heard you when he pulls the door open. He was still wearing his shirt and trousers but he had borrowed your apron.

‘This looks good on you,’ you tease, pulling at the strap around his neck, but he only takes your hand and leads you inside.

‘Now cara mia you are in for a treat if I do say so myself.’ When you reach the dining room he stops you, placing his hands over your eyes as he guides you the final distance. ‘No peaking now,’ He says as he positions you at the end of the table. 

‘Ta daaa,’ He uncovers your eyes and as you blink you can’t help but be impressed. The centre of the table is covered in what may be every plate in the kitchen; each one has a different cheese and its suggested accompaniments arranged around it. You had fought valiantly for any cheeses other than Italian but he had refused to budge keen for you to taste all of his favourites. He pours you a glass of wine, a deep red and hands you a glass. 

‘This is Barolo, aged in oak caskets it is the most decadent of Italian wines. The King of wines they call it.’ You take a sip and examine the flavours. It is rich, fruity and floral but with an earthiness that should pair well with your meal this evening. You were by no means a wine expert but your palette was well developed over your career and you can tell an expensive wine when you taste one. 

‘Terzo this is very extravagant,’ you stop when he raises his hand.

‘You deserve the best, cara mia, as does this cheese!.’ He gestures across the table and you survey all the options before you, savouring another sip of the wine. In the middle he has laid out a selection of crackers, water, butter and grain in a variety of different shapes. There was crumbling gorgonzola drizzled with honey to calm the bite of the blue veins and topped with quartered grapes and shelled pistachios. Slices of nutty pecorino sit between folded slices of ham generously filled with halved figs and walnuts. Cubes of provolone mixed with slices of olive oil, cured sopressata and green olives and taleggio and apple slices wrapped in salty prosciutto. Finally a bowl of whipped mascarpone, dark red cherry and balsamic dressing pooling between the peaks and whole cherries and pecans sinking into the soft cheese. 

He pulls out your chair for you, getting you comfortably seated then he goes to take off the apron before joining you at the table waiting as you take in the whole spread. It is strange being on the receiving end of such a gesture. You can’t remember the last time someone had prepared an extravagant meal for you like this, even if he had only sliced and arranged the food, it was clear how much effort he has put in to impress you.

He lets you start helping yourself to the plate closest to you when you struggle to decide where to begin with so many enticing options. The two of you are quiet for a time only pausing to express your pleasure with the flavours to each other. After trying at least two helpings of each cheese you sit back with your wine before your stomach begins protesting after your second round of overindulging for the day.

‘Thank you for doing this Terzo,’ you say as you watch him assemble another mouthful. ‘I’m not sure I remember the last time someone did this for me.’ He pauses before taking a bite, looking at you in surprise.

‘Is that so?’ He looks thoughtful as he finishes off his mouthful, getting every trace from his fingers. ‘You are very welcome, cara mia. In fact I enjoyed doing this more than I thought.’ 

‘Am I out of a job now?’ You joke just to watch his eyes widen in panic.

‘Hold on no no!’ He shakes his head emphatically. ‘I did not mean that at all. I will always prefer your incredible cooking.’ 

‘I suppose I will stick around then,’ you reassure him.

‘Thank Satan as much as this was fun. I could not imagine doing it everyday, multiple times.’ He looks exhausted just thinking about it. ‘You are a superwoman, mia cuocoina.’ 

‘I’m not, I just enjoy it,’ you explain. You always had since you were young and had followed your mother around the kitchen.

 ‘Why do you think you were so drawn to cooking?’ He asks. It wasn’t something you had thought much about before. It had just been a fact of your life. 

‘Well I like food obviously,’ you say with a laugh but you pause as you think of what it is you enjoy most about it. ‘I think it's just such a big part of our lives, we have to eat to survive so why not make that as enjoyable as we can?’ Of course it is your job and has been for the longest time but there is a more personal element to it, especially when it comes to people you care about. ‘And you know if you can cook you can make your friend a delicious soup when they are ill, you can make their favourite pasta dish after they just got dumped or you can bewitch a man by making his stomach fall for you first,’ you finish with a wink.

‘Mmmm I see,’ he says sipping his wine, his eyes going heavy lidded as he regards you. ‘So this was your plan was it?’ His voice goes deep and teasing and you shift in your seat. 

‘No, just a happy accident.’ You lean towards him without even noticing, so easily drawn into his orbit. ‘I think my food was just too good for you to resist.’ He nods in agreement, conceding to your point but this conversation is far from its end.

‘And what about you?’ He holds your gaze, keeping you attentive to his every word. 

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head not quite understanding his question.

‘What made you unable to resist your Papa?’ You swallow thickly. There are so many reasons you wouldn’t even know where to start.

‘You don’t need me to tell you how irresistible you are.’ you say instead. You aren’t against stroking his ego usually but you know he is well aware of his affect on people and you in particular. 

‘I have my own charms. I am in no doubt about that.’ He says confidently and you know it is true. ‘You though? I think it is a little different than any I have seduced before.’

‘Oh?’ You have an inkling where he is going with this. You had your suspicions that there were a lot more feelings involved then either of you were used to in your past relationships but this didn’t feel like the build up to a heartfelt confession. He was looking at you as if he had been leading you to a trap and you had just fallen in. 

‘You like feeding me.’ he states, matter of fact, placing his wine glass down on the table.

‘Yes we have discussed that.’ You are sure the two of you had discussed how you enjoyed taking care of him even as early as your first dinner together.  

‘No we haven’t. Feed me.’ His voice is hard but not cold as he orders you but you hesitate.

‘What?’ You think back trying to clear your confusion and you remember the lunch or more specifically just before when you had been reassuring him in his bedroom. You had known then that he wouldn’t drop that forever but it still didn’t make you any more prepared. 

‘I am not yet satisfied. Feed me.’ You swallow again, unable to control your body's reaction to his strict demands. You want to obey him, to feed him but again you hesitate. 

‘Terzo …’ He gives you a stern look cutting you off before you can continue. ‘Papa?’ It comes out as a question but it seems obvious what he wants. He rewards you with a smirk. 

‘I want some more gorgonzola, si,’ He encourages as you take a water cracker and begin to load it with cheese. ‘Plenty of honey too per favore then be a brava cuocoina and feed it to me. Then I will explain.’ You offer him the cracker and he tuts at you shaking his head.

‘Uh uh,’ he sighs. ‘Do it properly.’ He pushes the plates to the side and pats the table in front of him. You stand uncertainly but he pats the table again until you sit before him and offer him the cracker a second time. He scoots his chair forward forcing you to spread your legs to accommodate him but now he is in the perfect position for you to place the food in his waiting mouth. He chews slowly, moaning low as the flavours combine and harmonise on his tongue. 

‘Mia cuocoina, I think the taleggio now, no?’ You take his suggestion, the rolls of prosciutto and apple are much easier to feed him. He watches you for a moment before continuing. ‘There were clues you see but I did not notice at first. Now though, now your Papa understands.’ You offer him the next bite but his warm hand closes around your wrist holding you in place. 

‘You kiss me differently, did you know this? After we have eaten, you like me tasting of food you made me I think.’ You feel like you can’t breathe as he begins listing all the things he has noticed. ‘And my clothes, you look at me differently too, when things get a little tighter, tighter than they used to be. You like seeing how I have changed with every meal you have fed me I think.’ You can’t deny it because what he says is true. A part of you had hoped he might not have noticed everything but with every word that hope gets smaller and smaller. 

‘And now here. Your heart is racing and yet all I have done is eat a little from your own hands.’ He pauses to take a bite, his teeth sinking into the soft cheese and crisp apple and just grazing the tip of your fingers. ‘You enjoy feeding me, more than you realise I think.’ 

‘Papa I …’ You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look angry or upset but you feel the urge to apologise even as words fail you. He swallows the last bite freeing your wrist.

‘Shhh it is ok mia cuocoina.’ His hands trail down to your ankles tracing miscellaneous shapes into your skin. ‘Cherries now per favore. The balsamic cherries with the mascarpone. His fingers creep up your calves ghosting the shape of you before hooking behind your knees. He pulls you forward until you are sitting at the edge of the table. You lean across him, choosing a butter cracker, the thicker texture better to support the soft cheese. 

‘I am craving something sweeter,’ he explains. You bring it to his lips, the cherry juice starting to drip down your fingers and he catches it with his tongue leaving a sticky trail behind it before closing his lips over the mouthful. Your breath catches in your throat and his eyelids droop seductively as he sucks the last traces of juice and cheese from your fingers. 

‘That didn’t quite hit the spot,’ he says, hands already sliding your skirt up your thighs until he can clearly see your underwear and the wet patch there is little point trying to hide. ‘Ah so I was right. You do enjoy hand feeding your Papa.’ He spreads your legs even further so he can lean close enough that you feel his steady breathing against you. ‘After all that fuss.’ He grazes his teeth over your clit, the material of your underwear protecting you but the threat still makes your thighs shake. When he does bite down it’s only on the hem of your underwear as he pulls them to the side leaving you bare to him for the first time.

He just looks at first holding you in suspense but in a split second his tongue is all over you yet somehow still not hitting any places you wanted him, needed him. Around and around he swirls his tongue over your folds, then the most gentle suction. Little sounds of enjoyment he seems unaware of that vibrate through you as he tastes you thoroughly. But his teasing as you fed him, his sucking and nipping at your fingers had already got you ready for so much more. Giving in you lace your fingers through his hair to guide him to exactly where you want his attention most but he resists all your attempts, making the frustration inside you build and build. You try another tactic grinding your hips against his face but he pulls away pressing your hips down onto the table and stopping any further movement and forcing a whine from deep in your chest.

‘Cuocoina, please. I am just trying to properly enjoy my meal.’ He pauses to lick a long stripe, tongue flat and broad to give you as much friction as possible. You can’t breathe, not for a moment, the sudden rush of pleasure the only thing your mind can comprehend but almost as soon as it starts it ends the only thing you can feel are the puffs of his warm breath.

‘But perhaps you would prefer to feed me this too?’ He positions himself that he is a hair's breadth away from you before his vice-like grip on your hips loosens. ‘Feed me’ he growls and you have to obey.

You grind your hips against him over and over, his tongue finding your entrance making your thighs shake as you fight to get him even deeper. Your foot loses purchase where it had settled on the arm of his chair and you scream as your clit catches the tip of his nose. One of his hands finds its way to your thigh helping to steady you but the other creeps up your body underneath your dress. He cups your breast over bra, his maddening fingers finding your already hard nipple through the light material pinching and twisting until you can't decide if you want to arch into his teasing hand or push back against his face. 

‘Papa! Terzooo,’ you moan his name in frustration, struggling as your pleasure builds to take what you need from him but he finally takes pity on you, hooking both your legs over his shoulders and lifting your hips clean off the table.

‘Fuck mia cuocoina,’ he growls against your core. He sucks your clit long and hard until you scream your toes curling against his back. ‘Sei la cosa migliore che abbia mai assaggiato, cazzo.’ You barely register his switch to Italian, too busy chanting his name in your pleasure fuelled delirium.

You are so close to the edge when his lips close over you sucking and sucking while his tongue swipes over your clit over and over again. You can feel it building, a charge shooting through your nerves from the soles of your feet to the palms of your hand and you continue babbling his name, repeating until it is almost meaningless. He pinches your nipple, hard, and you arch up from the table with a gasp just as he slides a finger inside you curling it perfectly to press against your g spot. 

Every bit of air is forced from your lungs as your orgasm overtakes you. Your ears begin to ring as the force of it pulses through your body and what feels like every muscle contracting and releasing as you gasp for air. Your hands are still gripping at his hair keeping him in place not that it is needed as he laps at you greedily, catching every last drop of your orgasm. 

‘Making sure you are well fed?’ You giggle deliriously, still feeling somewhat detached from reality. You release your death grip on his hair and he sets your hips back down on the table helping you ease the vice-like grip of your thighs around him. His face is wet with your slick but it only emphasises his flushed cheeks. He grins at you in satisfaction, his eyes sparkling as he takes in the state he has made of you.

He pulls you back upright by your hands after straightening your underwear and your dress but this time no one could mistake the treatment you had just received. Your balance has not yet returned and so helps you into his lap where you can lean against his warm body. As you get settled you can feel his hardness trapped beneath you but as you reach for him cupping him through his trousers, he catches your wrist gently and instead wraps your arms around his neck. He distracts you by stealing kisses and you discover you almost enjoy the taste of you on his lips as much as you enjoy the taste of the food you make him.   

He slows your frantic kisses down, only offering you slow pecks to help you actually catch your breath. He rubs your back soothingly over your dress and encourages you to rest against him but you still end up clinging to his shoulders to help keep you upright as the haze of your pleasure recedes leaving you exhausted. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

‘Mmm, now I am satisfied,’ he whispers against your lips before distracting you again with his captivating kisses. 

[scarlettxnoah]

I just imagine you being HEAVILY pregnant, like a week overdue and absolutely fucking miserable as one would be. You are lying cocooned in Noah’s bed wrapped up in his blankets and your pregnancy pillow he had bought for you early on. You are fed up, tired and your body hurt and you were just absolutely over being pregnant. Prior to being a lump in bed, you had a pretty bad meltdown while Noah knelt by the bed and brushed your matted hair away from your face, listening and comforting you the best he could. He knew how hard this pregnancy had been on your body, and he was so grateful your body could do this for him; giving him a baby that was part you and part him. He dreamed of this life for a long time.

Noah had asked if you were good with him streaming for an hour or so, and all you did was whine out a yes, and roll (trying to lift your body the best you could) to the other side.

You drifted in and out of sleep listening to Noah talk to the people watching. He had always been comfort for you. Even when you were unbelievably uncomfortable.

“Oh no, Y/N hasn’t had the baby yet. I’m not gonna go into too many details but we are still waiting on the baby’s arrival.”

“Oh… uh… yeah she’s actually asleep right now and I don’t want to wake her up.”

That caught your attention as he continued to gush about how amazing you’ve been and how you are taking it like a champ.

“ not asleep” you mumbled grouchily.

He turned his chair and gave you a sweet smile.

“Hi baby, everyone’s asking about you. They are wanting to see you since it has been awhile since you were online.” He said warily, like he was poking a bear.

You grunted as you pushed yourself up and stuck your hands out for him to grab to drag you out of the bed.

He quickly told them to give him a second and hurried to you, grabbing your hands gently and hoisting you up to your feet. You groaned as gravity took over and your baby dropped lower into your pelvis.

Your face screwed up in pain, resting your hand under your belly where the baby was.

“ you don’t have to do this Y/N/N. They can wait”

You shook your head and followed him back to his chair.

“Do you want to sit?” Noah asked, scooting the chair back to give you access to his lap and you shook your head again. You didn’t want the viewers to see you struggle to get out of his lap.

You wrapped your arm over the top of his shoulders.

In all honestly, you looked an absolute mess. A pair of Noah’s joggers sat low on your waist and one of your tank tops that clearly don’t fit you anymore, sat 5 or 6 inches above the waist band of the joggers, leaving your belly exposed. Your face was puffy with bags under your eyes, and tear stains from the hours of crying. Your hair was wrapped in a bun that resembled a rats nest.

Noah stared up at you with such adoration it took your breath away. You looked away from him and to the screen to read the chat and comments were FLYING

“Omg she’s so big”

“ you look miserable! How are you feeling?”

“ is it a boy or a girl”

“ you are glowing!!!”

You leaned your hip against the chair and gave a sleepy smile. Everyone had been so kind to you since it had come out you and Noah were together.

Noah wrapped his arm around your waist, and placed his hand on your big belly, kissing the side of it.

Your heart was soaring. Or always did when you showed affection to your child.

“ okay, okay, you’ve seen her, she needs to go back to bed and get her rest before the baby comes.”

You said bye to everyone and placed a gentle kiss on top of Noah’s head. He grinned wildly as he went back to playing his game.

Two days later your water broke and you brought home a baby girl with thick dark hair just like dad🥲😩

[lostbookmark]

Read the original story here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything. 

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments,  Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself,

A/N : Here is a super small teaser for Whispered Vows. I'm hoping in about 2 weeks or so, I'll feel comfortable enough to start posting. Enjoy!

Entering the code to Yoongi's studio, you watch him as he sits at his desk with big headphones draped over his ears. His head was bobbing up and down to music that he was working on, and the clicking sound of his keyboard filled the quiet room. Closing the door, you walk over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, massaging them slowly. He groans, and his head falls forward in pleasure. You can feel his stiff shoulders start to relax under your touch. Sighing, he reaches around the back of his chair and pulls you into his lap. Yoongi takes off his headphones, tosses them gently on his desk, and gives you a quick kiss before resting his head on your shoulder. You run your hands through his dark hair, trying to comfort yourself from the stress of the day.

“How was lunch?” he asked, pulling his head away from you to look you in the eyes.

“There was no lunch. There were, however, five different wedding venues,” you tell him, and he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you questioningly.

“What? I thought you told your mom to stop that,” he said, eyes drifted back to his screen. His slim fingers go back to clicking away on his mouse.

“I did, but you know that she won't listen,” you say, pulling on the black strings of his hoodie. You twist them tightly around one another to let go and just to have them unravel. “One of them held 300 people and cost about 20 thousand dollars.”

“Excuse me?” he says, looking at you with wide eyes. You fully have his attention now. “20,000, 300? Who needs 300 people at a wedding? We are not spending 20k on a venue. A beautiful dress that I get to rip off you at the end of the night…sure.... but not the venue.”

You roll your eyes at him and shove him with your shoulder lightly with a small smile on your face. “Yeah I know, but supposedly it's going to be an extravagant event with a lot of important people. With you being all rich and famous….I have to impress people. I was told we need the best champagne, chandeliers, fondues, and the perfect sunset,” you explain.

“Rich and famous,” he said with a laugh. “That’s just stupid. Unless....is that what you want?” He asks you, eyes flicker between you and the screen .

“Of course not. What do you want?” You counter as your fingers continue to twist the strings of his hoodie.

“I want what you want,” he said distractedly, not even looking at you this time. His fingers continued to click away at his mouse. His focus was back on the crowded screen, which was his computer monitor as he watched colorful waves move across the screen.

Yoongi has been busy. Maybe that's why you haven't set a date or had any details figured out yet. He's been pulling long nights in the studio just to come home a couple of nights a week to sleep for a few hours and shower. He was usually gone by the time you woke up on those nights. The last thing that you wanted to do was bother him with questions about your future wedding. You didn't think centerpieces were high on his priority list right now. He promised you that this was only temporary, but honestly, you're not sure. Several artists that they have signed are growing in popularity, and the demand for songs are coming in strong. He's tired. You can see it in his face, and you can't see this stopping anytime soon.

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for ho hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Grease Lightning

Pairing: Buck x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: This has been in my box for forever and I’m sorry it took so long to write

Warnings: A panic attack is implied

Every day since the accident you’ve watched Buck like a hawk. 

You stare at him while he eats his cereal, telling you how excited he is to see Eddie like a kid going to school to see their best friend. 

You stare when he’s on the couch playing games with Chris and Eddie has his arms around you because he’s staring for the same reason. 

And you stare when he’s lying in bed next to you, staring right back into your eyes. He reaches out, pushing a piece of hair out of your face, giving you a little smile. 

“I’m okay” He whispers every night, his heart crumbling when he watches little tears flow down your cheeks as you nod slowly. 

It’s funny because you’ve gotten better, he used to have to hold you until you cried yourself to sleep, you’d wake up every morning and he’d be practically lying on top of you, just so you could feel the warmth of his body, the beating of his heart. So you knew he was alive as soon as you woke up. He didn’t mind the extra pampering, because he knew you needed it. You packed his stupid paw patrol lunch box every day with his snacks because you knew Bobby had every meal covered. You drove him to work now, usually, you’d take your bike places but it was Buck who suggested you bring him to work to spend more time together and so you’d have a car all day, he didn’t mind not having it. 

It was all honestly mostly so he could keep an eye on you too. Eddie would ask in hushed tones how you were doing and Buck would nearly crumble each time because he was just so worried about you. 

You weren’t even sure the last time you’d had a nightmare about what had happened, therapy had been a huge help, teaching you ways to cope with the intense anxiety that something that freaking rare could happen again. Final destination your ass. But you already knew tonight was going to be kind of shitty. You’d woken up that morning, turning over and reaching for him to steal his body heat, when your hand was met with nothing but sheets, cool to the touch. Your eyes shot open, his phone wasn’t on the nightstand. 

“Buck?” You say quietly, your heart beating wildly in your chest. You scramble out of bed, and hurry down the stairs, looking around the apartment. 

“Buck?? Evan??” You call out louder, and there’s still no answer. The logical thing would be to just call him. But rationality doesn’t always come when we need it to. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, slowly sinking to the floor. Your hands are shaking way too much to even dial his number in the first place. You can feel the edges of your mind slowly fraying, your heartbeat seems to be slowing down, it’s like you can’t feel anything at all. What if he didn’t even answer you? What if he couldn’t answer you?

“C-call Eddie” You managed to choke out as you sank further and further into yourself and into this strange black hole. The phone rings and rings and rings and you’re not even sure when he answered but you can just barely hear him calling your name. He calls out your name again and you’re still not answering him. But he can hear you, he can hear the hyperventilating. You think he tells you they’ll be home as soon as they can and that it’s gonna be okay and he’s going to stay on the line with you and you just shrug in response to him because talking is not a thing you’re capable of right now. 

The front door slams open and Buck comes running over. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your head, holding you as tightly to his chest as you can stand it. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay now I’m here, just breathe baby I’m here” He strokes your hair as Eddie comes over, sitting down on the floor a little ways away from you two. He puts his head in his hands and sighs before looking up. Buck adjusts you in his lap and rubs your thigh slowly. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asks quietly and you shake your head, your body relaxing against his? 

“I have an idea,” Eddie says quietly and you bury your face further into his chest as Buck looks over at him. 

“You’re not really here” 

Suddenly you’re on the floor, no longer in his arms. You look around you, and Eddie is standing over you, with Buck’s limp body in his arms. 

“I’m sorry” He choked out as he fell to his knees “I-I’m so- I’m so sorry” 

“No, no please no Buck no” Your voice cracks as you scramble over to his body, hugging him to your chest “Buck please!” You sob “Evan please I love you, please” 

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N come on wake up” You slam forward in the bed and Buck shrieks, throwing his hands up in little fake karate motions. 

“What are you doing?!” You gesture at him wildly and he scoffs 

“What am I doing?? What are you doing?!! You- You were crying for me” He sighs softly, putting his hands down. “ You were crying and telling me you loved me” 

He sits back down next to you, fixing the covers around his waist, and sighs, running his hands through his hair and looking over at you.

“Another bad dream?” He asks quietly and you nod. He opens his arms and you crawl into his lap, clinging to his arm. He wraps them around you, kisses your head, and sets his chin down on it.

“Haven’t had one in a while… Almost thought you weren’t worried about me anymore, thought there was another man” 

You snort and pinch his arm and he bats your hand away.

“I’m for real life! What if you found another super sexy ultra mega hottie firefighter boyfriend?”

“Ultra mega hottie?” You giggle into his chest and he smacks your butt. You yelp and he snickers again.

“Hell yeah!…who else would you want to get engaged to?” He says the last part so quietly you almost question if you even heard it. You look up at him and he reaches over into the nightstand and pulls out a small velvet box. 

“I will always be here to save you, Y/N… You’ll never be able to get rid of me. Even lightning couldn’t do it!!” 

You laugh a little through the tears and he helps out sit up, opening the little box.

“This is not exactly the proposal I had in mind… actually Eddie is helping me set it up so you gotta pretend to be surprised okay?”

“Okay,” you nod slowly, gulping quietly and now crying for a completely different reason. The ring is gorgeous. It’s everything you’d wanted and you knew he had definitely been sneaking around on your Pinterest boards. He slips it on your finger and you stare at it, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“I love you, Y/N” He tilts your chin up and you smile, your heart no longer aching with the pain of imagining him gone. Because he’s here, right now at this moment your Buck is here and he’s alive and he’s beautiful and he’s here.

“I love you too” 

He leans in brushing his lips softly against yours and nuzzling your nose, grinning when you giggle. He cups your face, trailing his thumb over your cheekbone before planting a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. He exhales slowly and you smile, moving your lips against his. He closes the box and puts it back on his nightstand before pushing you back slowly with his body, never parting from the kiss. Your legs open to welcome him and he settles down between them, growling playfully. 

“Why future Mrs. Buckley” He pulls away a little to look at you “Are you propositioning me?” 

“Oh shut up!” You squeal laughing as he pulls your oversized shirt up and crawls under it

[penkura]

Scared of Doctors anon again.

I now raise you: Law during his time at Punk Hazard finding y/n while they're still a subject.

Honestly I have too many thoughts about this. It's helping me wait for the dub to come out

Such good ideas though, omg. I'm thinking and more is coming to me for this, it's such a good prompt. There's so many ways it could go!

But for now...

Law had not intended to save you when he came to Punk Hazard. He had a plan, one that would hopefully bring down this Devil Fruit factory and help him get his revenge, it didn't include meeting and getting to know you little by little in the time he was there. You had run into Law by accident when trying to escape, making him curious about what was going on.

You look scared when you first run into him, having turned a corner abruptly and colliding with the young doctor, asking him for help.

"Please, help me get out of here!"

"What?"

There's a fear in your eyes he doesn't like seeing, while you grip his coat tightly and plead with Law to save you, somehow. He knew Caesar was conducting experiments, obviously with the SMILE fruit and everything, but he didn't know the extent, and now he's more curious seeing you.

You look perfectly fine and healthy, there doesn't seem to be a reason why you should be afraid of anything. Most of the people that Law has seen through the lab are willing participants, or they've been bribed by Caesar with something for him to use them. You don't seem to fit either bill, unless there's something hidden that even he can't see.

But his powers should tell him, right? The brief scan he does shows nothing is wrong, though he can see some kind of drugs in your system. He'd have to do his own testing to figure out what they are and what they're for, but you're interrupted by Monet a moment later.

"Oh, I see you've met our oldest patient, doctor."

Law's concerns grow when you immediately remove your hands from him, looking towards the ground with more fear than before. Monet explains you'd been sick with a highly deadly virus three years ago before she and Caesar took you in, away from your home and family, and have been working ever since to find a cure. He watches as you back away bit by bit, turning more into yourself and apologizing, before turning around and running back where you'd come from. When he asks Monet at the illness was, she beats around the bush and doesn't give a straight answer, Law knows something is wrong with this situation but he's not in a position to figure out what it is.

Not until the Straw Hats and the Navy show up anyway. The distractions provided by them allow him the time to find you again, though you still seem fearful of him. He holds his hands up where you can see them, making you tilt your head.

"I won't hurt you. I won't touch you at all. I can use my powers to see about your illness."

"...why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

How strange, to hear words he'd said so long ago said to his own face, but in such a different situation. After Law explains how his Devil Fruit powers work, you consent to letting him do a proper Scan, and you're confused when he tells you there's no sign of any illnesses in your body. He still sees those drugs in your system, but he doesn't have the time to check what they are yet.

"We're going to destroy this place. You'll have to come with me if you want answers from Caesar."

You really don't know if you should trust him or not, he hasn't given you much of a reason not to apart from being a doctor, like Caesar and Monet had claimed to be. Your voice is shaky when you ask Law if he promises to find out what happened, and when he does, you're almost crying as you nod. Law lets you take his hand, once you've calmed down and agreed to go with him, he starts to lead you to a safer area.

"I won't let anything happen to you, all right? Not until we get you the answers you need."

For some reason, you decide to trust him.

[shytastemakerthing]

Ooooo I think I’ve noticed this being being a thing across some other fics & HCs and stuff, but would you be willing to do headcanons for Vil with a yuu (where he somehow found out about their feelings) who wouldn’t confess to him about their feelings & tried to get over him because they were worried he’d brush them off as typical paparazzi/fan behavior because he’s so used to it?

Hello and thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that this took so long to get out, school and work have been rather crazy right now XD, I hope you enjoy!

Tw: None

A/N: Reader is stated to be Yuu

It was safe to say that you were not the first person to ever have a crush on the Vil Schoenheit, but you were certainly one who was in his presence more than some of the others

It was only a matter of time before such feelings would develop, especially with how often you two crossed paths, and how often you found yourself in his dorm

But there was absolutely no way that you could tell him such a fact

After all.... who were you compared to him?

He was a world famous celebrity, top-class model, a highly skilled actor

You were just.....nobody

A magic-less nobody from another world who didn't even belong to this world, especially the one that he lived in

If you told him, the chances were high that he would simply see this as some joke, or the typical fan behavior that he is quite used too, and there was no way that you would ruin the friendship that the both of you had just because of how you felt

Perhaps that is why you started to put a distance between the both of you

Last minute cancellations of study plans, doing your skincare at Ramshackle, stops at his club becoming less and less frequent, the works. Anything that would work a gradual decline in your time around him

In hopes that these feelings would soon diminish, no matter how it hurt

Oh, but a follow you were to not think that Vil would certainly take notice

At first, he didn't think much of it. He knew that Crowley, the worthless and lazy headmaster that he was, kept you rather busy. Not to mention that gremlin cat of yours followed by your first-year friends

But then more suspicions arose... as if you were actually actively avoiding him

Now he really didn't know how to feel about that

It wasn't until several key points were stated by Rook (stalker), when Vil began to piece it all together

Especially noticing how empty his heart had been feeling, how lonely, he felt when you weren't at his side

Why wouldn't you have just come to him about such feelings? How could he turn you down? Did you think so little of yourself? Perhaps you did, and he would certainly need to correct that

Which is probably what led him to the steps of Ramshackle, actually compiling each and every ounce of strength that he had to actually dome to the rundown dorm to see you, standing straight and knocking on the door.... honestly hoping that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt

"You should never hide your feelings from me, Leibling. Especially if you do not know if they are reciprocated or not. Hm? Well, it would seem that this is my confession to you. Will you accept?"

Have a wonderful day/night!

[bullet-prooflove]

"And I told everybody I was fine for a whole damn year" with Scola, please? Obviously make it 2 years

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @district447 @stelacole @abby-splace

Companion piece:

This Ain't Goodbye - Stuart and you make the decision to divorce due to the revelation about his son.

Every Inch Of You (NSFW) - You and Stuart spend the night together after two years apart.

Escapee - You and Stuart are reunited when a face from your past escapes from prison.

It’s past midnight and you’re sitting inside a safe house, deep in the suburbs staring at the Sylvester Stallone’s frozen features on the TV in front of you because you are positive you can hear someone tip toeing in the hallway outside your assigned bedroom.

It’s a second later you hear Stuart’s light rap on the door. It opens to reveal the man himself standing there in a navy blue t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms. You remember the nights where he wore nothing but black Calvin Klein boxers that clung to him in a way that was almost unholy.

Having a son has changed your ex-husband in ways you never could have imagined. After watching his interactions with Jack you can see he’s softer these days, more patient. There’s a joy in him that you know you never could have given him, even if you had stayed together and Jack hadn’t come along.

You expected it to hurt more, being around the two of them but instead of pain you’re plagued by a sense of wistfulness. You made the right decision by leaving. Your guilt and your bitterness over your condition wouldn’t have created a healthy environment for Jack to step into and he needed support at the time, he needed love and stability. You would have only brought turbulence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask Stuart and he shakes his head as he leans in the doorway, unwillingly to cross some unseen boundary. Even now he’s thinking of you, of the stress this situation must be causing you. “Wanna watch Tulsa King with me?”

“Is it as bad as it sounds?” He asks as he steps over the threshold, watching as you shift the pillows against the headboard for him.

“It’s pretty fun.” You tell him, resetting the series to the first episode.

“Under the sheets?” He questions, gesturing at the quilt. “Or over?”

You know what he’s really asking.

Do you want me close? Or do you need space?

“I don’t mind.” You tell him honestly.

He climbs under the sheets with you, his shoulder bumping against yours and you’re taken back to last night, the two of you tangled up in one another in a hotel room before he’d received that phone call telling him he needed to leave. You know he must be thinking about it too from the way he unconsciously plays with his ring finger.

“It doesn’t hurt-” You find yourself saying into the space between you. “-seeing you with Jack. I thought it would but it doesn’t.”

“I worried.” He admits, tilting his head so he can study your features. “About what it would do to you being cooped up like this with us. I half expected to find you climbing out the window because you couldn’t take it anymore.”

You laugh then because it’s certainly something you would have considered in the past.

“The old Sasha definitely would have.” You tell him the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile. “But this Sasha, the one that’s had time and therapy to deal with her issues, not so much. Besides I’m getting too old to shimmy down drainpipes.”

It’s his turn to laugh and you’ve forgotten just how much you love that sound.

“Did it help?” He asks you, rolling into his side and you mirror his posture so the two of you are face to face. “Taking some space, getting some distance?”

“It did.” You tell him as you prop you head up on the pillow. “I wasn’t as focused on the problem, I could look at it objectively in a way I couldn’t when I was here in New York.”

Stuart nods his head in understanding, before he reaches out and tucks an errant strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I’ve told everyone that I was fine for the past two years.” He tells you, his thumb tracing over the blush of your cheek. “And then you walked back into my life and I realised I wasn’t, not really. I was just existing but I wasn’t actually living. I was just being what he needed because I had to be, my life became about him because the rest of it… it’s empty.”

You understand exactly what he means. You’ve enjoyed every single one of your new experiences over the past few years but there’s still this void inside of you, this space that can only be filled by the man who lies across from you.

“I’m back in New York now.” You tell him, your lips brushing over his pulse point as you clasp his palm to your cheek. “They offered me a position setting up a training hub here in the city so maybe we could try again, see where that leads us.”

He smiles then and the expression on his handsome features, it just lights up your entire world even after all these years.

“Oh Sasha.” He whispers as he leans in close, his lips brushing over yours. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[elysiaheaven]

𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬-𝟏𝟏-(The Fox's wedding)

You stood before Feixiao, who listened intently, her sharp eyes trained on you as you explained the situation. Jiaoqiu was beside you, his arms crossed, a deep frown etched into his face. Feixiao's expression was unreadable as you spoke.

"You need to heighten Hoolay's prison security," you told her calmly, though the weight of your words hung heavily in the air. "But, honestly, it might not even help. Hoolay's powerful—more than you all seem to realize."

Feixiao raised an eyebrow, her expression not changing much but clearly intrigued. "You think the Borisin monsters have more in store, don't you?"

You nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Exactly. Killing that man wasn't just because he was planning an attack. It's part of their larger plan. I wouldn't be surprised if the attack on Hoolay's prison is nothing more than a distraction—something to keep your eyes away from the real threat."

Feixiao's lips tightened into a thin line, her gaze turning cold and calculating. "What do you think they're trying to distract us from?"

You shrugged, giving a half-smile, though the tension in the room was thick. "Could be anything. But if I were them, I'd focus on something big—something that would shift the balance of power in their favor. Maybe freeing Hoolay is just the beginning. The Borisin monsters are clever, and they won't stop until they get what they want."

Feixiao stared at you for a long moment, and you could feel the weight of her consideration. Finally, she spoke, her voice as sharp as ever. "You killed the man before interrogating him. You didn't get any more information?"

You smirked, but it didn't reach your eyes. "He wasn't going to talk, and we didn't have time to play games. Besides, I knew enough to know he needed to be taken out."

Feixiao's eyes narrowed at that, but she didn't challenge you. Instead, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "We'll increase security around Hoolay's prison. But I want you on alert. If this is just the beginning, we'll need to move fast to stop whatever's coming next."

You nodded, satisfied that she was taking your warning seriously. As you turned to leave, Jiaoqiu glanced at you, his expression unreadable. You couldn't tell if he was angry or simply resigned to the chaos you seemed to drag along with you.

You walked out of the room, Feixiao's voice called after you. "One more thing," she said, her voice cold. "If you're part of this plan, or if you're playing some kind of game, I'll find out. And you'll pay for it."

You smiled to yourself as you walked away. Let them think what they wanted.---- You knew the Borisin monsters better than they could ever hope to, and if anyone was going to stop them, it was you—whether they liked it or not.

You walked away from the tense conversation, you could feel Jiaoqiu and Feixiao's eyes on your back. The air was thick with suspicion, and you couldn't help but smirk at the weight of it all. You had done what you had to do, and whether they trusted you or not didn't matter. Not really. You had your own plans, and no one could stop you.

Inside the room, Feixiao leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes narrowing as she spoke to Jiaoqiu. "She's useful," she remarked, "but something about her doesn't sit right with me. I wouldn't be surprised if she's still working to free Hoolay."

Jiaoqiu crossed his arms, his jaw tight as he stared at the door you'd just left through. "You're not wrong to be cautious," he admitted, his voice low. "She has her own agenda. But I've planned for this."

Feixiao raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I'll know by the end of today if she's really trying to help us or if she's still aligned with Hoolay and the Borisin monsters. I've put something in motion that should reveal her true loyalties."

Feixiao gave a satisfied smirk, her sharp features hardening. "Good. Because if she's a traitor, I won't hesitate to deal with her myself."

Jiaoqiu didn't respond, but his thoughts were racing. , but he knew you better than anyone. He had to. You were like a storm—wild, uncontrollable—but also strategic. He had to be certain where your heart truly lay before the situation spiraled out of control.

You dragged yourself back to Jiaoqiu's house, utterly exhausted from the day's events. The moment you stepped through the door, you caught the scent of food—he had already prepared dinner. Jiaoqiu stood by the table, looking composed, maybe too composed. You could tell he was acting, trying to keep up appearances, and you couldn't help but think how sweet it was, even if you knew it wasn't real.

"You're so cute," you muttered with a teasing smile, dropping your facade for a moment. "Aya, I'll cook next time."

He didn't say anything, just gave a slight nod as you sat down and started eating. The food was good—too good. You kept eating, taking bite after bite, as the silence stretched out between you. But then, something inside you snapped. You laughed. A loud, manic laugh that echoed through the room, uncontrollable and sharp.

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and concern flickering across his usually cold demeanor.

You stood up suddenly, the laughter still bubbling from your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped on him. His arms instinctively went to catch you, his body tensing under the weight of your sudden energy.

"What—" he began, but you cut him off with another manic giggle, your face inches from his. The tension in the room was suffocating, your eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He looked genuinely caught off guard, as if he didn't quite know what to make of this side of you.

"You didn't expect this, did you?" you whispered, your voice low, teasing. "I'm full of surprises."

Jiaoqiu stared at you, his expression shifting from shock to something more guarded. "What are you doing?"

You leaned closer, your manic energy still lingering, but your eyes softened, just for a second. "Just playing along, Jiaoqiu. Isn't that what we always do?"

You devoured the food, the once comfortable silence turned eerie, your mind swirling with chaotic thoughts. The taste of the meal seemed to trigger something dark inside you, a spiraling mix of excitement and twisted joy. You laughed, louder this time, uncontrollable and shrill, and before Jiaoqiu could react, you sprang from your seat and pounced on him.

He caught you out of reflex, his eyes widening in surprise as you clung to him, your laughter ringing in his ears. You pressed your lips to his cheek, a soft kiss that felt out of place amidst the insanity in your eyes. Blushing, you leaned in close, your voice breathless with excitement as you whispered, "How did you kill such a good Borisin monster, Jiaoqiu?"

He stiffened at the question, clearly not expecting this sudden outburst. You giggled, your fingers clutching his collar, your grip tightening as if you were afraid he'd slip away.

"Did you hunt it?" you asked again, your voice taking on an unsettling edge. "Did you make it suffer? Did you hear it scream? Oh, Jiaoqiu, why didn't you invite me? We could have had so much fun together!"

Your laughter echoed through the room, manic and unrestrained, as you held your face in your hands, unable to contain your excitement. "I want to kill them myself! Again, and again, and again! It's so thrilling, so satisfying!"

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened, his usual cold demeanor crumbling under the weight of your crazed behavior. He didn't say a word, but you could see the tension in his body, the way his jaw clenched as he tried to process the madness spilling from your lips.

You laughed again, this time more high-pitched, your eyes gleaming with unhinged joy. "You're such a bad man, eating a monster like that! But it's fine! It's so fine!" You threw your head back, laughing hysterically, your entire body trembling with the thrill of it all. "I love it, Jiaoqiu! I love it! Hahahaha!"

Your laughter continued to echo through the room, sharp and uncontrollable, as you lost yourself in the twisted delight of it all. You glanced at Jiaoqiu, your eyes gleaming with a strange mix of lust and madness. His silence only fueled the fire burning inside you, and you leaned closer, kissing the side of his face softly.

But before you could stand up and fully take in the chaos of your actions, Jiaoqiu suddenly pulled you down, his grip firm and unexpected. You blinked, dazed, your breath hitching as you felt the intensity of the moment. His touch was heated, his hand brushing against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you feel it, Jiaoqiu?" you whispered with a dangerous smile, leaning in to kiss his ear again, your lips barely brushing against his skin. You pressed closer, savoring the tension, before kissing him once more, this time deeper, lingering in the moment. "When will you let me kill a Borisin again?" Your voice was hushed but filled with a crazed longing.

His eyes were distant, as if something had taken hold of him—something unnatural. You paused, your manic excitement wavering as you realized the truth. He was possessed, and it was entirely your doing, an accident born from the chaotic energy you had unleashed. It usually happens without your thinking.. You felt bad.

With a heavy sigh, you snapped your fingers, the spell breaking in an instant. Jiaoqiu's eyes cleared, his expression shifting from dazed confusion to a weirded-out disbelief. He stared at you, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Eat," you said coldly, pushing yourself away from him and standing up, your voice suddenly devoid of the madness from before. "I'll sleep on the sofa tonight. Also I'm sorry."

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked toward the couch, the remnants of your earlier outburst still hanging in the air.

Jiaoqiu woke up first, his expression tense and clearly distressed. The weight of everything from the night before seemed to linger, but as he got up, the smell of something cooking caught his attention. He walked towards the kitchen and saw you, already awake, cooking as if nothing had happened. You looked up with a bright smile, greeting him.

"Good morning," you said cheerfully, your hands moving skillfully as you prepared the dish. "I'm making sweets from my planet. You should try them."

Jiaoqiu frowned slightly, still disoriented. "I don't like sweets," he mumbled, though there was no real conviction in his voice.

You chuckled softly, ignoring his resistance. "You say that now, but this is something I used to do. I used to bake sweets all the time. It's always been a part of me." You turned to face him, your smile gentle. "Besides, you can taste anything I make. I'm blessed by an Aeon."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "That sounds like a joke," he muttered, but the curiosity in his eyes betrayed him.

You handed him a small portion, your face lighting up as he took a bite. Jiaoqiu hesitated at first, but the moment the sweetness hit his tongue, something shifted in his expression. His eyes widened slightly, realizing what you said was true—he could taste the flavors of the food you made, even though he couldn't taste anything else.

"You like it, don't you?" you teased, moving closer to him. "Here, let me feed you. You're not eating enough." You gently took another bite of the pastry and brought it to his lips. He didn't resist this time, and as he ate, a quiet satisfaction appeared on his face.

"It's good," he finally admitted, his tone softer than before.

Your smile brightened even more as you continued preparing a batch. "I'm going to bake some for the General as well. She'll love them."

Jiaoqiu glanced at you, the tension easing from his features, though a part of him still seemed guarded. "We're supposed to meet her today. Bring them along," he said, almost as if he couldn't resist seeing what would happen next.

Later, when you both arrived at the General's quarters, you presented the sweets to her. General Feixiao, always composed and sharp-eyed, accepted the plate with a nod. Her fox ears perked up ever so slightly, a sign that her interest had been piqued. Without saying much, she took the plate and retreated to a quiet corner to eat alone.

You caught a glimpse of her, enjoying the taste as she bit into one of the sweets. There was a moment of subtle satisfaction in her eyes, but she kept her usual demeanor as she finished, the unspoken approval hanging in the air.

"She liked it," Jiaoqiu murmured, watching from the side, a faint trace of surprise in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, pleased with the small victory, feeling like—for once—things were moving in the right direction.

[xploded-tb]

[23/11/23] #BaiYu - BE PRESENT 专注在当下 | Translated Interview with SoFigaro Magazine

The following thread is a full translation of the 2023 November issue of SoFigaro. (First posted to Twitter here.)

Bai Yu is fond of taking photos of things that grow upwards.

During his photoshoot breaks, he would snap some photos of trees standing tall and swaying gently in the autumn wind, and some reeds in the distance.

The top of the pine trees in the cold November rain, the city walls that extend upwards, and the ancient corner towers that pierce into the sky…

These are things he likes to take photos of.

Perhaps all these have one thing in common.

Over time, they may seem to be standing tall and still, but in reality, they have been quietly absorbing and silently expressing themselves.

Parallel World

Following the conclusion of the Parallel World episodes, Bai Yu bid Chang Dong goodbye with a group of photos.

During the interview, he explained, "These are the yardangs we encountered along the way. This is an abandoned village, and this is where Chang Dong encountered an incident…" Although filming is complete, precious memories of this story are all carved into Bai Yu's mind.

Since ancient times, the Yumen Pass has always been an important landmark to the poets. It is an important frontier pass established along the Hexi Corridor during the Han dynasty. And today, it has become a heritage site.

To protect the area, most of the filming took place in the vast and endless Dunhuang desert. 'In boundless desert lonely smokes rise straight; over endless river the sun sinks round' (1)… The scenery described in the poem was right before his eyes. It was gorgeous, but they also had to tackle challenges brought on by the harsh environment.

Bai Yu recalled...

"We shot during June, so the winds were strong and it was the sunniest period. It was hard to illuminate the area at night in the desert, so a lot of scenes were shot day for night. Shooting under the scorching sun and in fierce winds did have some impact on performance."

One night, the giant tent the staff had set up securely was blown away by the wind. "The tent was huge, with really thick poles and sturdy ropes holding it down. Who knew that the next day it'd be missing, completely blown away by the wind!"

When time allowed, Bai Yu would drive his car to and from work, driving back to where he'd rest after the crew wrapped filming. "Nobody was around where we filmed, so knocking off and driving a jeep in this vast land felt great."

Whenever Bai Yu wraps up filming for a drama, he gives himself an extended break. Recently, he returned home to Xi'an and recharged with a bowl of hot oil noodles (2). Going back home is something Bai Yu often looks forward to the most after completing a project. After all, fully immersing oneself in a role is a significant test on an actor's physical and mental well-being. "Only when I'm back home can I unload and relax."

This year, Bai Yu also visited Wubu County, where he was born.

"I was born in a yaodong (3) that my parents built themselves, and it still stands today." Beside their yaodong are aging neighbors who could still recognize Bai Yu as that mischievous boy in their memories.

Some feel that the characters that Bai Yu has portrayed in the recent years carry this underlying theme of 'endurance.' We wondered if he felt 'bottled up' portraying such characters for some time.

Smiling, he replied, "A little, but you have to do something about it. So you need to rest properly to adjust." But every time he comes across a good script, he'd still be moved by the very authentic and rich characters.

.

.

.

After all, life isn't a feel-good drama. Struggles and compromises with things that turn out contrary to our wants are part and parcel of life.

Bai Yu had this to say…

"I used to be captivated by exciting stories, but now it's more the details that draw me in. These details should be used to portray a character instead of their embellished aspects. It's these details that let me get deeper into the character."

To Bai Yu now, there are no differences between 'important' and 'regular' scenes. People may enjoy discussing an actor's skill and portrayal of intense emotions in an important scene, but Bai Yu feels that shouldn't be all that makes a character.

"There are too many details happening all the time. It's like when I filmed 'The Long Night'; Jiang Yang is a character defined by many details."

The Long Night

Without a doubt, bringing up Bai Yu makes people immediately recall 'The Long Night.' Hearing this, he only laughed and said, "Then I have to reflect on myself. I don't have another work that makes people think of me this way. I have to keep working hard."

A lot of people say this is the work that successfully transformed him. To this, he responded, "These labels are given by others. I was never concerned with 'transformation' since that's what others define you. At the end of the day, it's about the performance and character, about what I like and what I feel fits me."

Before our interview, we came across something Bai Yu once said. He said that Jiang Yang was the first character that he just wanted to portray no matter what. Often, he would reflect on Jiang Yang afterward, and still felt dazed. It wasn't until the day 'The Long Night' premiered, a rainy day where he walked for a long time, that the weight in his mind finally lifted.

In a flash, the year is ending. We asked Bai Yu how he would sum this year up. He thought for a little while and said, "Never thought about it. I used to think time passes really quickly, so I took a long break this year. When I did, I thought time passed really slowly."

For a period of time, his tight schedule made him stop in his tracks to take the time to rest. To many actors, resting could mean missing opportunities.

"Of course, you could miss out on a good opportunity, a good script. But you need to first understand yourself. Can you do a good job if what you truly need is a good rest? If you encounter a good script that captivates you, that's great. But can you mentally tackle the task? Life is about making choices and sacrifices."

As the saying goes, one must take a step back in order to leap better. To Bai Yu, he has never stopped in his path as an actor, but only rested to make sure he has the energy to meet his next challenge.

Occasionally, the passing of time brings about certain thoughts. "A few days ago, I told my dad that I feel like I'm almost forty. He almost burst out laughing, saying, 'You're just in your early thirties!'" Bai Yu expressed that he felt this way because there are many things he still wants to do. Time has its own rhythm, whether fast or slow, but it shouldn't be a worry.

Summing things up, he said, "You set your rhythm. Don't be too bothered about how fast or slow time is going, just stay focused on the present. Live honestly and respect your own thoughts, no matter what it is you want to do. Just go ahead and pursue it!"

/END

TL notes: (1) From Wang Wei's "On Mission to the Frontier" (王维 《使至塞上》) (2) Hot oil noodles = you po mian (3) Yaodong = earth shelter

Mag link here Mag in text format here compiled by Sweetheart_白宇甜心

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[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You��re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

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After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing. 

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.” 

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place." 

He still remembers something like that? 

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life. 

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap. 

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate. 

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips. 

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water. 

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin." 

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating. 

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes." 

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed. 

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities." 

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away. 

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something. 

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?" 

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.” 

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.” 

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say. 

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.” 

Toji stayed silent. 

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again. 

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now. 

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?" 

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life. 

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?" 

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless. 

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask. 

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.." 

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot." 

"Sounds like some shitty friends." 

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence." 

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe. 

"It's why I've never gone further than that." 

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity. 

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.” 

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles. 

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips. 

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself. 

‘This little minx..’  but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys. 

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.” 

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating. 

Baby steps are still steps after all. 

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console. 

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-” 

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right? 

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?” 

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad. 

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket. 

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it. 

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

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You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch. 

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone. 

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this. 

Toji. 

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his. 

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now. 

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside. 

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.” 

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”  

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit. 

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around. 

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.  

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?  

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up. 

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down. 

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on. 

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it. 

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all. 

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself. 

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

© SUGUCIDAL 2024 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[sttoru]

your boyfriend sleeps on the couch after an argument you both had earlier that day. after calming your nerves and taking time for yourself, you realise that you might have been a bit too harsh on him.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff / angst / hurt + comfort. age gap (reader early 20’s & satoru early 30’s). nicknames used; ‘(little) baby’. he’s honestly just the perfect combination of gentle and teasing. subtle mentions of size difference.

satoru shifts on the couch whilst letting out an inaudible yawn. he was tired after an entire day at work and finally had the chance to settle down in the comfort of his apartment.

though, he couldn’t really relax just yet. the reason why being the undeniable tension hanging in the air. he was in fact home, but it didn’t feel like it. not when you were missing.

you had holed yourself up in the master bedroom after an earlier argument the two of you had. it wasn’t a big fight — just a little squabble between lovers. satoru didn’t rush after you when you had decided to walk away midst argument. you clearly weren’t in the right headspace to properly articulate nor communicate your feelings.

he figured that you just needed some time alone and thus decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.

satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.

it was dead silent in the apartment that was usually filled with your lively chatter. the sorcerer wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep. but, you needed space and he wasn’t going to disturb you.

he drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths were steady and his thoughts were surprisingly calm. satoru almost drifts off to sleep, however his body lightly jolts awake once he hears the creaking of a door.

careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.

satoru moves his arm to the side so his vision wouldn’t be obstructed. his eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe — one he could recognise instantly.

it was you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you didn’t take another step forwards and just lingered in your spot for a few seconds without saying anything.

“hey, baby.” satoru breaks the silence. his voice was as soft as it could be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration in it. even if he had all the reason to be upset according to you.

you remember just how childish you acted earlier; you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand. the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.

in contrast to your immature behaviour, satoru had stayed calm and collected throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you even once nor did he blame you for anything. you felt bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.

you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you were about to do.

you knew you had to apologise for your behaviour, but what you needed first was his validation. you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket satoru was using.

your arms wrap around his torso and you hug him tightly to your body, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.

satoru’s eyes widen a bit at the sudden show of affection, though he wasn’t complaining. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

“my little baby.” he chuckles, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything was and will be fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me — thank you.”

again. that tender tone satoru uses only with you and for you. the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop the process.

“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body was enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace. satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depended on it.

no words were exchanged between you two for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out and so you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes were watery and a bit red.

the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you were so adorable and precious to him. even when you looked like a mess — a pretty mess.

“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanted to apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i apologise for that as well.”

your lover nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”

you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that was all the reassurance you had needed to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still felt bad and the guilt of your immature actions seemed to linger in the back of your mind.

you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat — hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lays on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.

“i’m sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be troubling to deal with.” you whisper as you enjoy the feeling of being back in satoru’s arms.

he grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours — even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.

the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “heh, i’d be lying if i said that you trying to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”

satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that little finger of yours in front of his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating were quite endearing.

it’s not like he was invalidating your feelings with that comment — he was genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it wasn’t like it didn’t work.

“whatever.” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response. you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.

you aren’t the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.

no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.