#The people who receive these dreams are the closest things to gods I have ever met | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years ago

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may may may!! this was SUCH a treat and made me so unbelievably happy to read this morning! it was so festive and i’ve (tragically) always been an anthony girl, but lordddddd if you keep writing benedict i might just have to switch! there was so much yearning and pinning. god he’s so fucking CUTE 🥰 i included my favorite parts below, but this was such a gift and a lovely surprise!

"Hyacinth can be pretty persuasive," you acquiesce, thinking with a shudder of the time the prepubescent girl stared you down until you gave her your brand-new Charlotte Tillbury lipstick. Sort of like being bullied out of your lunch money. - this was so perfect and so hyacinth and i would also lose my shit if someone took my charlotte tilbury lipstick

This is the thing: Worse than Benedict's six feet, worse than his messy hair and blue eyes and dimples, worse than all of that, is that he's actually nice. A genuinely good guy who talks to you like you're more than just his little sister's best friend, more than the annoying girl that gets invited to family holidays because her home life isn't the best, who moons over him at every turn. That's the thing that keeps you hoping, stubbornly, stupidly. - sorry i know this isn’t the point, but i wish my best friends had an older brother, they’re legit all only children or have sisters, which is SO LAME. i like how it’s also specified that only benedict does this out of eloise’s siblings and not that the others are rude to her, but ben specifically singles her out by being particularly sweet

You don't want him to leave. All your time spent with Benedict is stolen, clipped, bookended by family dinners, or movie nights with his sister. The closest you've ever gotten to him was when you all crowded into the back of a cab on your way to a club, his thigh pressed against your own and his arm awkwardly angled somewhere behind your neck. Just half an inch of space between you, but your ribcage cracked open like somebody wedged a crowbar in there. - may?? MAY??? this is so beautiful! oh i love your writing so much, i could feel every single part of this as i read it 🥰🥰

It might be dramatic to say that your whole life depends on whether your best friend's older brother likes the gift you picked out for him, but apparently, that's where you are now. In the most pathetic turn of events of all time, you're pretty sure the trajectory of your future hinges on this moment. - girl! you are not being dramatic!! gift giving is SO HARD because it reveals so so much about you and how you feel about that person! and then to find out that the rest of his family doesn’t quite appreciate/take his painting seriously and SHE DID!! also ben def painted that watercolor she received

You stay in your spot on the couch, still sitting on your hands, trying not to think about the way Benedict looked at you. Trying not to dream. - TRYING NOT TO DREAM 😭😭😭 SWEET GIRL

For a moment, you imagine what it must be like. There was such warmth in that room earlier, such joy and love, but there were so many people, too. All of them loud and charming and lovely. All of them wonderful. All of them captivating in their own way. How easy must it be to get swallowed up by the sheer force of all of them? How easy must it be to feel passed over as the second of eight children, always surpassed by somebody else? Always somebody cleverer or funnier or more lovable? Sometimes, you think, it must be a lonely thing to never be alone. Sometimes, you think, he must feel invisible. - this was just gorgeous and what i imagine it must be like to have a bunch of siblings and each of them more captivating than the next 🥺 it’s lovely and beautiful but also must be a little lonely

Then, when he pulls away, just for a beat, he lingers, his exhale a gasp, and for that instant, it's like you're the last two people on the planet, like he's the only thing that matters, like nothing existed before you and nothing will after you're gone. Suspended in time. - SUSPENDED IN TIME!!! CRYING THIS IS GORGEOUS!!! MAY!!! i’m officially a ben girlie!

all the love (under a misteltoe) . benedict bridgerton

pairing ; benedict bridgerton x female!reader

synopsis ; modern!au. you have been in love with your best friend's older brother for years. on Christmas eve, things finally come to a head.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; explicit lanugage, some allusions to reader having a shitty family, christmas angst, pining, one mention of margaret thatcher

note: i'm not british (english isn't even my first language) so pls excuse any inaccuracies in any slang etc etc... also this was supposed to be a smutty thing and no instead it's exclusively tooth-rotting fluff so I'd like to apologize.... merry Christmas??? if anybody does want a steamy part two... well, hit me up I guess!

i stole the title from britney spears' my only wish (this year)!

You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. They've got it all - the stockings above the merrily crackling fireplace, the Christmas crackers twinkling on a long table, the boughs of holly climbing up doorways. It's like a Selfridges on the 21st of December just vomited all over the place.

"Seriously," you say, blinking in a mixture of awe and fear, "how big is this thing?"

Eloise, much more accustomed to her family's display of wealth and Bridgerton harmony, shrugs without looking away from her phone screen. "No idea. Benedict is like 6 feet, and that thing is twice his size, so, like… 12 feet? I don't know, it's Christmas. You do the math."

She turns away, still glued to an Instagram page plastered with pink graphics informing about various social issues in carefully-designed typography, and leaves you standing alone in the entrance hall. If you didn't like the Bridgertons so much, you'd be the first to say their Christmas tree is obnoxious. It's a ridiculous thing, wide enough to commandeer half the room. It's covered top to bottom in tinsel, dark blue ornaments dangling from every branch and reflecting the light until the thing looks less than a tree and more like a hallucination one might have two hours into an LSD trip.

The London townhouse you've crashed at more than once after a night on the town gone to shambles is impressive enough, but the Brdigerton's ancestral home in the countryside is a whole other beast. From the sprawling gardens to the sheer endless rooms, from the stucco ceilings to the servant stairs, from the life-size portraits of nineteenth-century family members to the white marble busts, you half expect a tourist group to round the corner at any moment. You're pretty sure you saw a hedge maze on your way in.

Sure, you've known your college best friend Eloise Bridgerton was loaded, but you didn't expect this. Then again, her sister is married to a Duke and shows up on the Sun's front page semi-regularly, so maybe this one was on you.

"So what do we think? Sufficiently Christmas-y or too much?"

You sink your teeth into the tail-end of a scream, letting out a strangled sound instead. Benedict Bridgerton really is six foot tall, and fuck him for that. Couldn't he at least have been some sensible height? Five reasonable feet and seven nice inches? Has he got to be perfect? Has he got to be the six feet you've been dreaming about for the past four years in increasingly more frenzied fashions?

He stands with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, with his hair tousled and his face relaxed into the same friendly, good-natured smile he always gives you.

"Uh… What?" Immediately, you curse your lack of eloquence. And earlier on the ride over, you'd sworn to yourself that, for once, you wouldn't act like an actual idiot in front of him.

Benedict, grinning, points forward. "The tree."

"Oh." You crane your neck back to look at the star mounted to the top, floating somewhere above the marble railing hugging the walkway to the second floor. "Well. It's very… big."

Benedict chuckles. "Yeah, I agree. I did tell Mom it was excessive, but she insisted. I'm pretty sure Hyacinth would mutiny if she ordered anything under ten feet."

You hum, faintly wondering what it must feel like to get a tree, let alone one big enough to get put up in front of the Rockefeller center. "Hyacinth can be pretty persuasive," you acquiesce, thinking with a shudder of the time the prepubescent girl stared you down until you gave her your brand-new Charlotte Tillbury lipstick. Sort of like being bullied out of your lunch money.

"You can say that again."

Benedict falls silent, and for a moment, you just stand there, side by side, staring up at the tree. Dean Martin drifts over from the dining room. Your stomach is on the most terrifying rollercoaster ride of its life.

Then, out of nowhere, Benedict says, "You're wet, by the way."

"I…" You splutter. "What?"

He nods down toward the floor. "Your shoes, I mean. You're soaking the rug."

You follow the line of his eyes down to your boots, still caked in the snow and sludge you drudged up on the way up the ten-mile-long driveway. A grey puddle has accumulated around you.

"Bugger," you mutter. "Eloise did say I could leave the shoes on…."

A conspiratorial grin crosses Benedict's face. He says, "Remember when you and El caught me smoking that joint in the study? I won't tell if you won't."

"Maybe you should go change for dinner," he suggests. "I'll take your suitcase up for you."

"You don't have to!" you protest, even as he's already bending over to retrieve it, even as you're secretly glad you won't have to try and lug that thing up all those stairs yourself.

"It's fine." Benedict waves you away, then tests the weight of the suitcase. "Jesus. I thought you were only staying for three days. What the hell did you pack in here?"

The sight of your bedroom floor at home, every inch covered with discarded clothes and toiletries and last-minute Christmas present purchases, overcomes you like a war flashback. "Uh… Books," you say, falling into step beside him as you climb the stairs together. "I brought a lot of books."

If Benedict knows you're one of the worst liars in England, he doesn't let it on. Instead, he hums Wham! 's greatest hit while ascending the stairs two steps at a time. You try your best not to stare at his butt when he overtakes you and focus instead on the plush velvet carpet and the actual footsteps you leave on it, cringing.

You follow him down a long corridor, past decorative Chinese-style vases filled with out-of-season greenhouse flowers. "This is your room," Benedict says, pushing the door at the end of the hall, somewhat separate from the others, open with his hip. "Eloise is just down the hall."

Like everything else in Aubrey Hall, the room is so tasteful you're scared to touch anything. Held exclusively in shades of pastels, in the softest blues, pinks, and creams, a huge four-poster bed is pushed to one wall, flanked on both sides by nightstands. The opposite side of the room is covered in floor-to-ceiling French windows that offer a spectacular view of the grounds, powdered with snow. Somebody lit a fire in here too, and above the mantle…

"Oh, God," you squeak, staring at a huge oil painting depicting perhaps the most miserable-looking man you have ever seen. Margaret Thatcher and her iron lady posturings have nothing on this bloke.

"Right, that's Uncle Barnaby." Benedict deposits your suitcase on a stuffed armchair. "Us kids just call him Uncle Fester."

"Yeah," you say slowly. "That checks out."

Benedict laughs. "Sorry, you got stuck in this one. All the other guest rooms are in the West wing, and Mom figured you'd be more comfortable not being that far away from everybody else."

The West wing. You get the sudden, spectacular image of yourself in an ankle-length lace nightgown wandering down stone hallways with nothing to light the way but a single, flickering candle. If you can fantasize about Gothic romances set in your own home, you decide, you should start thinking about downsizing.

"Right." Benedict runs a hand through his hair, and you track the movement, watching the muscles rippling in his forearm. He's wearing a grey cashmere sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight could make a stronger woman swoon. "I'll let you get settled in."

"Where are you sleeping?" It's a desperate attempt to prolong the moment, to keep him in this room alone with you for just a little longer, and you regret the question the moment it's out. Either he now thinks you're a stalker or, even worse, that you're secretly trying to draw up a layout plan of the estate to prepare for your inevitable heist. You wouldn't be surprised if there were several million pounds in cash stashed in a vault somewhere in Aubrey Hall, and rent in London has reached astronomic heights. Who could blame you for indulging?

But Benedict doesn't look concerned. Instead, he pauses just a step or two from you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, and answers, "I'm right next door. Just knock if you need help with anything."

For a split second, Benedict's hand finds the curve of your spine, fingertips pressing through the thick knit sweater and painting a shiver down your back. It goes through you like a bolt of lightning.

Then he draws back as if nothing happened, gives you a crooked, curling smile, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

You drop down onto the mattress with a groan, bury your face in the 400-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and pretend you're not actively trying to strangle yourself.

"Well," you mumble, voice muffled by the pillowcase, "Happy Christmas to me."

Christmas dinner with the Bridgertons is a bizarre experience. Everybody talks over each other, Hyacinth and Gregory chuck spoonfuls of peas at each other, Colin spills a whole ladle of gravy across the tablecloth, Anthony and his wife Kate spend half the meal whispering to each other and the other half stealing kisses, Eloise starts debating politics with Simon (who isn't half as stuffy as you expected a duke to be) at the top of her lungs, and Benedict drinks at least five glasses of sparkling wine before his mother takes the bottle from him.

You watch the whole thing with a feeling in your stomach like a bullet wound.

After a dessert of indefinable mush Hyacinth swore up and down was her homemade plum pudding, you move to a large sitting room. There is a second tree in here, this one a little less obnoxious and covered in homemade ornaments, the exploits of eight children and countless pre-Christmas arts and crafts sessions. The crackling fire paints flushes into the family's cheeks and gives the whole room a homey, rustic atmosphere that seems at odds with the overall elegance of the house.

Everybody is allowed to open one present. You think you see the instantaneous regret on Violet Bridgerton's face when her youngest son unpacks his new portable speakers with a whoop of joy loud enough to bust several eardrums. Watching the pandemonium unfold before you, you sit squished into a corner of the sofa beside Eloise, your hands trapped under your thighs, and try not to feel out of place.

Maybe this was a mistake, you think to yourself. Maybe you shouldn't have intruded on a family holiday as you are, regardless of Eloise's invitation. It must have been a pity thing anyway, what with you saying you were just going to stay in London for Christmas, in your shitty flat with the broken radiator and the leaking pipes. You pretty much guilt-tripped her into that by mentioning the frozen curry you were planning to get from the Tesco frozen section, now that you think about it, and God, you were definitely forcing yourself on them, weren't you, and they were all just way too nice to mention it and…

"Here," Violet's voice tears you from the downward rollercoaster ride about to plunge neck-deep into the pond of anxiety. "Merry Christmas."

She places a flat present in your lap, wrapped in deer-print paper.

"Oh," you say softly, and your chest feels tight like somebody is pulling a cord taut around it, "you didn't have to…."

"It's just a little thing." Violet has the kind of smile so warm you suspect it could melt ice cubes within seconds. "We're so happy to have you for Christmas."

You feel self-conscious as you unwrap the present, aware of all eyes on you. The paper reveals a picture frame, simple yet tasteful dark wood that feels smooth and supple against your skin. Behind the glass is a watercolor painting, a study of a tulip. The pink petals seem almost life-like in their detail as if a drop of dew should drip off the edge and roll down the picture any moment. You can practically feel it, wet and cold against your fingertip.

"Eloise said you're very fond of flowers. I thought you might find a place for it in your room."

For a head-spinning, gut-wrenching moment, you think you're going to cry. "I… thank you," you choke out. "It's… lovely."

Violet smiles and pats your hand. "It wouldn't be Christmas without a present. You didn't think we'd forget you, did you?"

They move on to Colin, who tears at his wrapping paper with such eagerness he gets a papercut, but you feel stuck. There is a lump in your throat, and you clutch the picture too tightly. Somehow, you realize, you did think they'd forget you. Only that's not really right. To forget you, they'd have to think about you first, and you can't imagine any of the Bridgertons wasting a single thought on you, apart maybe from Eloise. Sure, you spend more time at their house than in your own flat, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? It's not like your own family misses you much this Christmas. You've gotten more than used to being invisible.

"I want this one," Benedict says and, to your horror, lifts one of the presents you left there earlier. "I like the sustainable vibe."

Feeling obliged to get presents for everyone, you'd spent yesterday running through a department store for at least three hours. Mostly it's boxes of chocolates and a book for Eloise, stuff that diminished your already meager savings more acutely than you'd planned for. And then it had come time to choose something for Benedict, and you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time agonizing over possible presents. By the time you'd made it home, only to realize you'd forgotten to get wrapping paper, all the stores were closed. So you'd wrapped everything in the newspaper the ancient couple living next door hadn't picked up off their welcome mat yet. They're in Cardiff visiting her sister for the holiday, and you're supposed to be watering their plants while they're gone. Which is a task that might be a bit hard to accomplish, seeing as you're currently several hours outside of London.

"Oh, that's… that's mine," you pipe up, then immediately clear your throat. You've somehow managed to sound like a cartoon mouse. An especially squeaky, pathetic cartoon mouse.

Benedict glances at you, gives you a smile he most certainly inherited from his mother, and says, "Perfect."

Whatever that's supposed to mean.

He has a similar approach to unwrapping presents as his younger brother, but at least he doesn't injure himself in the process. As you watch him, your heart beats somewhere in your throat. Suddenly you're right back where Violet picked you up, on the verge of anxiety about to perform one of history's most spectacular dives.

The improvised wrapping paper floats to the carpet like that plastic bag Katy Perry immortalized in her magnum opus Firework. For a moment, Benedict says nothing, staring at the gift in his hand.

"I can… If you don't like it, I can just return it," you say, even as you start frantically searching your memory for where in the world you put that receipt. Your heart is pumping blood through your veins at a pace that makes you dizzy. "It's not a big deal. It's fine, it was…."

Benedict holds the box of watercolours in front of his chest like some sacred artefact. He opens the lid and peers inside, examining the different shades wordlessly. Then he closes it, looks up, and right at you. A beat passes with him just looking at you, with your heart fluttering its feathery wings against the cage of your teeth, with you squirming in the spot. And then Benedict smiles, wide and bright and honest. "I love it," he says, "thank you. It's fantastic."

Your chest caves in.

"Oh," you whisper, half deaf over the rushing of blood in your ears. "Okay. Cool."

For a second, it looks like Benedict will say something else, like there are words forming on the tip of his tongue, and you feel like you're clinging to a cliff's edge by the tips of your nails. But then Hyacinth pulls the box from his hands to look at the paint, to run her fingers over the shades, and the moment passes.

If somebody asked you later, you wouldn't be able to tell them how the rest of the unwrapping goes. It's all a blur, a mirage of different exclamation and laughter and more or less well-thought-out presents that passes in front of you like a supercut, all of it accompanied by a playlist consisting mainly of Mariah Carey and Michael Bublé. You stay in your spot on the couch, still sitting on your hands, trying not to think about the way Benedict looked at you. Trying not to dream.

When the younger kids rope Colin and Anthony into a game of charades that requires an exorbitant amount of physical movement, you help the others clean up the abandoned shambles of the dinner table. Benedict is doing the dishes in the kitchen when you enter carrying a pale of plates so high you see nothing but the dried gravy Jackson Pollock sprinkled all across the edges.

"Careful." Benedict's fingers brush yours as he takes the plates from you and places them gingerly on the countertop.

"Thanks," you mutter, then spend just one second staring at the broad expanse of his back, holding your hands uselessly in front of you, before turning back toward the dining room, intent on finding something else to occupy yourself with.

Benedict's voice stops you. "Do you want to help me?"

You whirl on your heel embarrassingly fast, clearing your throat when you find him smiling at you. "Uhm. Sure."

He nods toward a dish towel on a rack and asks, "I wash, you dry?"

"Yeah. Sounds amazing." For a second, you genuinely consider slamming your head into one of the kitchen cabinets. Since when has drying dishes ever sounded amazing?

Benedict gives no indication that he thinks you might be the weirdest girl he's ever met, though, so you take that as consolation. He's rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue button-down again, his arms elbow-deep in the sudsy water of the sink, and you pretend not to notice the droplets running down his skin. Outside the window, snow falls in thick ribbons, covering more of the grounds. The faint sound of the Bridgertons enjoying themselves drifts into the kitchen's silence.

You accept the pan he was washing and start running your towel over it. A wet stain soaks into your dress where you press the Teflon-coated edge to your stomach.

"We can put the plates in the dishwasher later," Benedict says, filling the silence gaping like a canyon. "But I think the big stuff we should do by hand. Pots and pans and all that."

Unsure how to answer, you nod. Your mind is whirling, reeling, somersaulting. For so long, you've wanted to be alone with Benedict, have imagined it, dreamed it, conjured it up in your mind. And now here you are, and you can't seem to open your mouth. And it's not even like you have nothing to say, quite the opposite. You have so much to say you don't know where to start.

Like: You look great in that shirt. I hope you like my present. I think you're a great artist. If the Torys keep passing that PM cap around instead of letting us vote, I'm going to scream. I think capybaras are criminally underrated, and I'm glad they're having their moment on social media. How do you feel about turnips? I might have been half in love with you since the first time I met you.

Benedict, putting an end to your spiral, says, "It can be a lot, right?"

"Sorry?"

"The whole thing." He jerks his head in the direction of the dining room, an indulgent smile on his face that tells you all you need to know about Benedict's feelings for his family. "The whole Bridgerton Christmas chaos."

You shrug, lowering your head so he can't see your face, can't see whatever emotion might betray you. "I like it."

"Even Hyacinth's plum pudding? I think that could pass for a murder weapon."

"Yeah," you say, and find that your voice is much too sincere. "Even that. It's not… I've never had this." You cut yourself off immediately, not even sure why you said it in the first place. It's much too easy to be honest with Benedict, and it scares you in ways you can't describe.

"What do you mean?"

It feels like an impossible task to look at him, so you don't. You're too afraid of what you'll find - pity, maybe, or incomprehension. How could someone like Benedict possibly ever understand?

If you turn on a TV around Christmas time and watch a commercial or a movie, if you walk down a shopping street and look at the advertisements playing on screens or smiling from posters, if you pick up a holiday-themed novel, there is a certain feeling being sold to you: of warmth and joy and community. Of smiling grandparents and colorful sweaters. Of presents heaping like molehills beneath gleaming trees. Of roasts and mashed potatoes and peas and carrots and Christmas puddings and beaming families devouring them in perfect harmony. It's the same feeling you encountered right here in this house, in the perfect rooms populated with perfect Bridgertons. In those images, people are always happy.

Christmas, to you, has always been terrifying.

"It's not…." You hesitate. "In my family," you say finally, and hope your voice sounds steadier than it feels, "it's never been good. It was just a lot of yelling, and… I've never had this. The laughing together and enjoying each other's company and all that stuff. The love. And I… I look at it, and I can tell, you see? That it's just so normal to you guys, I think maybe you don't even notice it. But I do. And it just… it doesn't really seem fair."

You don't wait for an answer, instead turning away from him in a way you hope makes it clear that this is not an avenue of conversation you want to pursue. It's like you've just stripped yourself bare in front of him, exposed yourself to his ridicule and his gaze under the unforgiving kitchen lights. It's like you have handed him a map to the innermost parts of yourself. All those ugly, pathetic parts you've spent your life hiding.

Benedict seems to understand because the next thing he says is, "Thank you again for the present."

For a beat, you close your eyes. There, you think. You've got what you wanted. He's ignoring it. He's looking away.

You chance a glance at his side profile, at the furrow between his brows as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn bit of charred carrot sticking to the pot. "You're welcome," you answer. "I'm glad you didn't think it was shitty."

"Why would I think that? It's perfect." When you chuckle, shrug, when the self-deprecating note sneaks into the sound, Benedict ceases his scrubbing to look at you. "I mean it. It's really special."

"It's not even…." You hesitate, wondering if maybe you're fishing for compliments here. Whatever, the validation feels nice, and Benedict seems willing to give it to you, even if he probably finds you annoying. "It's not even a very creative gift. All things considered, you know?"

Everybody knows Benedict likes painting, even though there was some botched stint with the Academy a few years back. He eventually dropped out, but you don't think his aspirations changed.

He shrugs and turns back to the pot. "It is to me. My family all seem to think I'm not serious about the whole art thing, so it's nice to be acknowledged. It doesn't happen that often."

You pause to glance at him. Thrown into relief by the golden spill of the light, bracketed on one side by the winter night, for a moment, he's so pretty you feel your stomach clench.

"But you're so…" You break off, swallowing. Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. "Everybody sees you."

"What do you mean?" Benedict looks at you with real confusion scrunching up his face, and you feel almost stupid.

Helplessly, you shrug, dry the last drops of water off the pan, and put it down on the counter. "Just… People always notice you, you know? When you enter a room or when you go somewhere. I just thought… I thought you must feel really acknowledged. Like all of the time. I don't know."

Your heart is beating so furiously that you wonder if he can hear it. Embarrassment leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as the words escape you. Now he really should file a restraining order, you think. It would be perfectly justified, with you exposing just how much attention you've been paying to everything he does. God, you're a freak, aren't you?

When he smiles at you, there's something sad to the expression. "I've noticed," he says, forming the words carefully, "that what most people acknowledge about me is my family. But that's not the same as acknowledging me. That's not the same as seeing me."

"I do," you say, and your face feels hot, your voice sounds far away, your palms are sweaty. "I see you."

Something in Benedict's gaze changes, something transforms, and then he whispers your name, holds it in his mouth like something precious. "I think you…." He swallows, and his eyes rake over your face as if he's searching for something, as if he's hoping for something, and finally, he pushes on, his voice as uncertain as you feel, "I think there's so much more here than you realize. Because I do, too. I see you. And I know you're lonely, and I know you're scared, maybe even as scared as I am, but I think... I think maybe you don't have to be."

It's like being on a frozen lake, right in the middle, side by side, moving step by step, nothing solid in the world but his hand in yours.

He takes a step closer to you at the same time that you move forward, his hip bumping yours, his gaze on your mouth, his knuckles knocking against yours, your breaths hitched, your hands shaking, your head spinning…

"I've got more dishes," Kate chirps, stepping into the kitchen. Immediately, you and Benedict jump apart. You busy yourself with drying the pot furiously as he accepts the new pile of tableware, eyes on anything but you. Then, completely ignoring her brother-in-law, Kate wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you away. "I'm supposed to tell you guests don't have to do dishes. And that's coming from the hostess herself."

If Kate noticed anything off between you two, she doesn't comment. But you could swear you see her casting a long, searching look at you when she deposits you on the couch.

You spend a little longer enjoying the overall Christmas charm of the night. You and Eloise pull apart a cracker together, put the paper crowns on each other's heads, and sit on the rug by the fireplace for hours, chatting, ignoring the general mess around you. When Violet starts making people sing Christmas songs whether they want to or not, you excuse yourself. You've been hiding yawns in the crook of your elbow for the past half hour anyway.

On his way back in from the bathroom, Benedict almost bumps into you in the doorway.

"Oh," he says, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder, and then you both say sorry simultaneously. By now, the eggnog and the absolute shame of whatever passed between you in the kitchen have caught up to you and you giggle like a school girl, staring at the bit of skin exposed where his shirt is unbuttoned.

"Off to bed?" Benedict asks. His voice is gentle enough that, for a moment, the yearning resonates somewhere in your bones.

You nod. "I'm tired."

"Okay." It might be wishful thinking, but he sounds almost disappointed to your ears. "Sleep well, yeah?"

It's definitely wishful thinking. Right?

"Hey, Ben!" You glance over your shoulder to find Hyacinth grinning at the two of you with something in her eyes you can only describe as the glint of the devil. A dawning sense of horror sends a shiver down your spine. "You're, like, right under the mistletoe, you realize that, yeah?"

Following the line pointed out by her finger with your eyes, you feel the dread pooling in your stomach. And lo and behold, above your eyes, fixed to the doorway, is an unassuming twig of mistletoe.

Have you mentioned that you feel like you're in a Hallmark movie? One with an exceptionally uncreative screenwriter?

When you finally tear your wide eyes away from the mistletoe, feeling helpless, you find Benedict already looking at you. "Ignore her," he says, smiling the smile of the long-suffering. "Hyacinth just wants to stir up trouble. It's fine, nobody's going to make us…."

"Well." From her perch on the arm of Anthony's chair, a saint-like expression on her face, Kate looks once from you to Benedict. "It is tradition."

And then, to your horror, she winks at you. Your stomach plummets down to your feet.

Benedict stares at Kate like she just told him she thinks the moon landing was faked. "I… I don't think…."

Anthony, after exchanging some private glance probably only decipherable to spouses, shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I agree," he says. "It is tradition."

"And a very nice tradition, too," Daphne affirms, crossing her legs and taking a dainty sip from her wine glass. No wonder not even the gossip columns ever have anything bad to say about her. She's perfect. "It would be a shame to let that opportunity go to waste."

With a look on his face you can describe only as aghast, Benedict turns to you. “I… uhm… Is it… okay?"

If you lived in the nineteenth century, you'd be asking a servant to bring you your smelling salts by now. Slowly, you nod, even though you're so dizzy, you're not sure you don't completely mess up the movement. "It… it's fine, yeah," you agree.

Benedict's hand finds the side of your face. You're so aware of all the eyes on you that, for a moment, you think you might be sick all over Benedict's shoes. He's so close you can feel his breath on your face and smell his cologne. Your toes are going numb.

"You sure?" he mumbles, leaning even closer, only an inch separating you. He has very kind eyes. If you said no now, you know he wouldn't even be mad.

Beyond words, beyond any thought past oh god I can't believe this is really happening oh dear god he's about to kiss me, you just nod.

"Oh, for god's sake!" That's Simon. "Just kiss the girl and be done with it, Benedict."

So he does. It's little more than a quick press of dry mouth to dry mouth, but your heart almost beats out of your chest. You feel his fingers tighten against the side of your face, feel his slightly-chapped lips, taste the eggnog and the chocolate and the wine. Then, when he pulls away, just for a beat, he lingers, his exhale a gasp, and for that instant, it's like you're the last two people on the planet, like he's the only thing that matters, like nothing existed before you and nothing will after you're gone. Suspended in time.

"Great!" Eloise calls, throwing her hands into the air. "First, Colin starts going out with Penelope, and now Benedict is snogging you. Will you people ever leave my friends alone?"

A collective burst of laughter travels through the room, and then the chattering returns, the paused music resumes, and you stand there, unsure what to do with yourself, unsure how to continue on when it feels like the whole world just shifted an inch to the left and nothing is where it's supposed to be anymore.

Benedict's hand is solid against the small of your back. "Will you… will you stay a little longer?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

It doesn't sound like he just means tonight. You don't think he just means tonight.

You swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but him, "Yeah. I'll stay."

Benedict beams. It's a sight that lights up his whole face, rivaling that ridiculous Christmas tree out in the Bridgerton's entrance hall. "Lovely," he says. For a beat, his eyes flicker back to your mouth, but then he just grins. "Merry Christmas."

You can't help it - you laugh. There's relief in the sound, the kind you haven't felt in a long, long time. Here, with the fire crackling and Gregory and Francesca delivering what could perhaps be the worst rendition of All I Want for Christmas Is You the world has ever known, it feels a little like maybe, just maybe, being seen isn't half as scary as you thought it was.

"Yeah," you agree and slide your fingers into the spaces between his. "Merry Christmas, Benedict."

You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. But, God, are you happy you were wrong.

#bridgerton #benedict fic

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beeboyo · 4 years ago

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I absolutely love those posts where one singular line becomes iconic. No one knows where it came from but everyone knows it. Bonus points if it came from a dream about Obama.

#McScuse you bitch #iconic #obama #Dreams #I have not been blessed by an Obama dream yet but I really want to be #The people who receive these dreams are the closest things to gods I have ever met #Please just let me have an Obama dream with a weird line in it #The closest I've gotten is

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thetaekookcloset · 2 years ago

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Sharing Links I’ve Received

Ever since Memories 2021 content has been slowly coming out, I’ve received so many links from people to various clips of moments. If I were to post every single ask that’s either just a link or a link with a brief comment, I would have a ton of individual short posts in a row just sharing links.

Therefore, I’ve decided to compile them here in one post, so anyone who’s interested can check out these moments that people have wanted to share. If you sent a link with a comment, I’ll include what you had to say about it along with the direct link to the URL you provided.

1. This is actually a famous person's trend in Japan. Especially the one Jungkook doing with his mouth and all It shows they both share/consume same things. They are either married or closest bffs.

This moment is so cute! I didn’t know this was a trend, but it does seem like Taehyung and Jungkook watch a lot of the same things and look at what the other is doing on their phones a lot, so I agree, this could definitely be an indication of that kind of closeness.

2. the fact that tae breaks character with jungkook is so cute 😭

Oh my goodness, yes, I definitely agree! I love so many things about this tiny interaction. I love how Jungkook never looks away from Tae’s face to watch what he’s doing with his hand. I love how he starts to smile when Taehyung starts to smile, rather than in direct response to his goofing around. I love how his grin gets so big, and I love how, as soon as he’s finished, Tae sort of folds forward toward Jungkook, laughing at himself. It’s such a familiar gesture. Of course it gets cut off right at that moment lol.

3. Re this adorableness - I cannot stop thinking about how this is the same trip (at least I think so) where they went to that restaurant together and shared the bathroom mirror selfies ❤️

Yes I believe this moment comes from the same day as their Atomix bathroom mirror selfies! I love this clip so much. It’s barely even an interaction really, but it’s just the way they meet each other’s eyes and smile like that. Heart-melting.

4. Jungkook at the back 😂😂

Oh my god hahaha, the way he just pops right up to watch! And then he starts dancing along, I love it. I wonder sometimes, if Taekook really are together, if they dance together at home. They’re so in sync when they dance sometimes that I really think they might.

5. Did you see this? It's so cute and soft 🥺

Yes, wow, I love this one so much! I saw this at like 5 AM and then fell back to sleep, and when I woke up again I genuinely thought I might have dreamed this moment. But it’s realllll.

I could see people maybe arguing that this is nothing, maybe just Jungkook messing with Taehyung, but he does it so casually and then just wanders off after, without getting or waiting for a reaction, that it really does seem to me like he’s just being protective and not wanting Tae to hurt himself. Another good example of the proprietary nature of their relationship too. He doesn’t suggest that Tae shouldn’t be sitting like that, he just physically stops him from doing it.

6. This is just so boyfriend. I don't know how else to describe it

Ooh, yes, yet another good example of how entitled they feel to each other’s bodies lol. Taehyung sees, he wants, he gets. Actually there are a lot of instances of just that phenomenon when it comes to Taehyung wanting something and Jungkook getting/giving it to him.

Someone else sent an ask about this moment too, asking what I think it’s about because even Jungkook seems confused by it. Yeah it seems to me like Taehyung just wanted to look at him lol. Playfully, sure, but it seems that simple to me. And yes, Jungkook just goes along with it, even though it comes out of nowhere. I think this anon might have the right of it: it’s just so boyfriend.

7. link presented without comment from anon

I don’t really know if this anon had anything in particular that they thought I would take away from this, but I think it’s really funny, and cute. Especially Namjoon saying that his forehead is always open for kisses. I love it. I also love how funny Jungkook thinks the idea of Tae kissing Hobi is lol.

8. From when did Tae start wearing this type of pants? I have seen jk wearing it so many times but tae nope. JK also has one in olive.

Oh my gosh, you’re right. I hadn’t seen this clip yet, and I would have thought the same thing as the OP: it literally does look like Tae walked right out of Jungkook’s closet. I’ve never seen him wear pants like that, I don’t think ever. Interesting!

9. Hehe 🙃

So cute! It’s Taehyung’s huge smile at the end for me.

10. They really are kids betting and all. A serious question - Who won? I think Jungkook coz I didn't see him on screen.

Ahhhh cute, especially the very end when Taehyung is leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder as they walk away, and you can hear JK sort of giggle. I love it. As for the bet, I think based on the terms, technically Tae won? It seemed like JK was betting that they wouldn’t be visible, and Tae was betting that they would. You can see Tae for a second in the tight cut, so technically he was right, though really they were each right about themselves.

Okay, that’s me officially caught up on links people have shared since about yesterday afternoon or evening! Thank you all for making sure that I’m seeing all the best new moments, you’re the best!

I might keep this up if I get more links, because I think sharing them this way makes more sense than posting each one individually, but just so you know, I’m visiting friends this weekend and will likely fall a bit behind on asks.

In the meantime, I just hope we’re all able to enjoy this new content! Thanks again, everyone, for sharing some great new moments and your thoughts!

#ask #taekook #taekook and memories 2021

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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

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The lighthouse that guided me H.H ❤️🔥

~Best friends brother

🌼🌸Masterlist🌼🌸

this is 18+ only!

word count: 9.9k

(HarryHollandXReader)

summery: Sam knew you and his brother would hit it off, so he made you promise to not fall in love with his twin... easier said than done.

Warnings: Swearing, miscarriage, blood, smut. (additional warnings under the cut)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (F & M receiving) fingering, some dirty talk (But like not really) protected sex.

A/N: ok... i really only planned for this to be like 2-3k words, but i just couldn't stop... hope you like it :)

It was the insistent pounding that woke you up. The first thought in your head was how you were going to kill him for interrupting a perfectly good dream. With a loud, rather dramatic groan you rolled out of bed and flung open your door. Sam looked like he was stressed beyond belief. Pushing past you, he came into the room plopping down onto your bed and groaning before burying his face in his hands. This was not a sight you were used to, usually your best friend was a happy go lucky guy, but right now he seemed to be anything but.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Suddenly all the anger from being awoken so early left you, seeing him in distress was bad enough. You closed your door and went over to him, crouching down in front of him, hoping the boy would talk to you so you could offer some sort of help.

"There coming," he groaned. Who was he talking about? Who was coming? You were about to ask when he spoke up again, "my brothers want to see where I live and go to school, there on a plane now,"

You felt all that worry dissipate instantly. Did he seriously wake you up at the ass crack of dawn because his brothers wanted to come spend some quality time with him on his free week. Why did he always have to be so dramatic?

With a roll of your eyes you let out a chuckle. "Seriously Sammy? That's what's wrong?"

"Y/n, they're going to judge all of this," you looked around your room, there was nothing out of the ordinary really, just a bed, a dresser and some random nick knacks.

"My room?" You asked, confused.

"No, our apartment," he said. You were a bit taken aback. Yes your apartment was rather small and lacked a lot of decor, but for two broke college kids it was what you could do.

“What is wrong with the apartment?” you asked him, verging on offended. You had put in a lot of effort to make the place your own. From the beer bottle wreath on the pantry door to the pong wall of champions. It wasn't much but it was home, and that's what mattered.

“I need to tell you something,” he sighed slightly looking up to you. “I come from a very well off family, and i am nowhere near broke, i just don't want to flaunt the money i have around,” you weren't sure you'd heard him right, the boy you'd lived with for three years, who you considered your closest and best friend was telling you he was in fact not broke? When there had been times you ate microwave noodles for lack of anything else in the house.

“So you have money?” you asked, your confusion was evident in your tone.

“I'm sorry,” he sighed.

“Why would you lie about that?” You wondered. You were taken aback at your best friend's confession. Confused and a little hurt were just the brink of it. Why did he think he had to lie to you? After all this time?

“It was easier. I didn't want to worry about anyone just befriending me because of money,” He explained. You rolled your eyes, not sure if that was an acceptable explanation, but for now it was what you were getting.

“Well where are your brothers staying?” You asked him.

He sighed in relief at the fact that you weren't completely ripping him a new one. “Can they take your room, and you can crash in mine?” He suggested.

“Absolutely not!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N!” he groaned out.

“You give them your room and you take the futon in the living room,” You told him, smacking his cheek lightly.

“You're the worst,” He groaned. “But I need a favor,” he muttered.

“I swear if you ask me-”

“Can you take me to pick them up at the airport?” He interrupted.

“And he asked it,” You sighed walking out of the room.

“Y/N? Is that a yes?” He called out after you.

“Fine Sam, but you owe me big!” You exclaimed before shutting the bathroom door.

You had met Sam your first day at the University, and instantly the two of you had clicked. You oftentimes would say the two of you were half-soulmates, like half of your soul was Sam’s but the other half you hadn't meant quite yet. You understood Sam, and he understood you, and it was easy. You knew he had brothers, but mostly when he'd get time off school he would fly from Scotland back to London to visit them instead of vice versa.

So despite spending most of the last four years together, you had never met them.

You got yourself showered and put together before going to find Sam, who was a mess. “You look like a train hit you,” You told him as you stood in his doorway.

“Y/N, that's not helpful,” He groaned.

“Well let's go get your brothers,” you announced, grabbing your car keys from the counter.

“Wait,” He exclaimed. You turned to look at him, waiting to hear what he had to say. “I need you to promise me something,” He muttered.

“What?”

“My brother, Harry, my twin. I need you to promise you won't fall in love with him,” He told you. You nearly doubled over laughing, you couldn't imagine falling in love with anyone, much less someone related to the Div you called your best friend.

“Yeah I'm sure that won't be a problem,” You chuckled.

“Y/N, i’m serious, the instant you guys meet you're going to click, and if you think me and you have a lot in common, i can promise you, that Harry and you will have more,” He explained. You realized he was completely serious.

“OK Sammy, i'll do my best to not fall in love with your twin brother,” You nodded at him. He took a deep breath before finally walking towards you.

“Let's do this,” He muttered.

The airport was crowded, much like you had expected, but you still found yourself trudging through the packed areas to the waiting area to wait for Sam's brothers. “When is their plane set to land?” you wondered looking up at the screen that had all the flight information.

“They just landed. Tom texted me to let me know,” He told you as he stood waiting impatiently.

“Why are you so nervous? There only your brothers Sammy,” you tried to get him to calm down.

“Look at that mane!” You heard from a group of people that had just entered the waiting area from the landing pad. You saw the color drain from your best friends face as he turned and saw a curly haired boy coming at him. Sam opened his arms as the boy crashed into him, hugging him tight and muttering things back and forth to each other.

“Did you have to leave me?” A man asked as he walked up to the three of you, glancing at you and flashing you a smile before throwing his own arms around the already hugging pair.

The three of them hugging was cute, and it made you wonder why Sam was so nervous in the first place to have them here, since he looked so happy now.

“Ok, Guys this y/n, my best friend and roommate,” Sam told them, turning the two boys' attention over to you.

"Hi," you mumbled, feeling rather shy suddenly.

"You weren't joking when you sai-" Sam smacked Harry in the back of the head before he could finish what he was saying. "I meant hi," he told you, extending his hand out to you.

You took his hand in yours, noting how attractive his hands were. His grip was tight as he shook your hand, staring into your eyes with the most breathtaking brown orbs you had ever seen. You weren't even aware you could think brown eyes were so beautiful. His curls had fallen to his forehead, giving him a boyish look, but dear God did he pull it off. No wonder Sam had asked you to not fall in love with his brother, just looking at him had your stomach in butterflies. You let go of his hand, looking away hoping your best friend wouldn't pick up on how easily you were taken aback by his brother.

The older boy 'Tom' extended his hand as well shaking yours and saying hello, before the four of you headed down to the baggage claim.

Both boys found their bags quickly and then it was off to your car. "Shotgun," Harry yelled as you unlocked the door.

"What? No!" Sam argued.

"You snooze, you lose Sammy, and it looks like you just lost," you laughed as Harry smirked triumphantly, throwing his bag into the trunk before sliding into the front seat. You knew Sam was nervous to get back to the flat. Worried that maybe his brothers would judge you based on the appearance of your place.

You parked the car and led the boys up to your place, unlocking it and slipping inside.

"Wall of champions huh?" Tom asked as he admired the drunk scribbles of the pong wall.

"Me and Sammy boy are undefeated," you announced proudly pointing to the top where your names were scribbled out.

"No," Harry laughed, shaking his head, "there is no way, Sam is awful, and has never won. Ever!"

"Board doesn't lie, red," you told him, shooting Sam a smile.

"Prove it," Harry said.

You looked at Sam who had a mischievous look plastered on his face, neither of you were ones to back down from a challenge. So you spent the early afternoon drinking and Whooping Sam's brothers asses at beer pong. Easily.

"She carries you," Tom told Sam as he dropped himself onto the futon.

"Does not!" Sam argued with a laugh.

"No she does," Harry confirmed.

"Oh piss off," Sam laughed, shoving his way in-between his brothers on the sad excuse for a couch you had. "We need a new couch," he groaned.

"Let's go shopping for one," Tom said randomly.

"We're drunk," you pointed out.

"We can Uber," Tom laughed. You rolled your eyes but reluctantly agreed.

You stood in your living room in your fuzzy pajama pants and tank top staring at the giant couch that was now taking up a majority of the room and the two sleeping boys on it.

"We actually did that?" Sam groaned, walking out of his room in only boxers. "I've never been so drunk in my life,"

"Day drinking for the win," you told him, holding your fist up for him to bump. The prior night consisted of way too much drinking and then shopping at furniture stores, before going to a pub for more drinking. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't even recall getting the sectional into the apartment.

Your head was pounding and you felt like you had been hit by a bus. So you opted to exclude yourself from any activities Sam had planned for him and his brothers, and instead spend the day catching up on your studies.

You found yourself sprawled out on the new couch with books around you as you worked on your laptop. Regardless of the fact it was a drunk purchase, you had to admit the couch was pretty comfortable.

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you were woken up by someone moving beside you. You sat up watching as Harry settled in. He glanced over to you and sighed.

"Sorry I was trying to avoid waking you," he said apologetically.

"S'ok, where's Sam and Tom?" You asked.

"Club," he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, before grabbing the books from next to you and setting them onto the table.

"You didn't want to go?" You asked.

"Not in the mood," he said, smiling at you. You felt a tad guilty about being happy Harry had chosen to not go, opting instead to hang out with you. Sam had been right, you and Harry had A LOT in common, so talking and joking with him came almost naturally. He radiated positivity, it was like if he was a color, it was yellow 100%

After a couple hours of talking about everything you could think of, the room fell silent. "Let's go on an adventure," Harry suggested.

"An adventure?" You wondered.

"Why not?" He laughed.

"I'm not very adventurous," you admitted coyly.

"That's ok, we'll figure something out. Let's just drive until inspiration strikes,"he said, standing up and extending his hand for you to take.

Your decision to say yes was probably where everything went wrong, but looking back.. you would do everything the same if you were given a second chance.

You parked your car on the side of the lake. Looking over at Harry with a skeptical look. "You gonna back out?" He asked.

"Harry, it's only like 68° out here," you reminded him. He nodded with a smile before opening the door and getting out of the car. Somehow both of the Holland twins had a way of convincing you to do crazy things.

You got out, feeling the chill of the air make goosebumps raise on your skin. "Harry, I'm not sure about this," you admitted walking towards where he was now standing on the dock.

"Me either, but it's not an adventure without a little hesitation," he told you.

"Who told you that?" You asked, laughing. He thought about it for a minute and shrugged.

"Ok, let's do it," he told you, giving you a nod. You sighed nodding back before slowly peeling your pants down your legs and then your shirt over your head. You took a deep breath before removing your underwear and then unclipping your bra.

You stood completely naked staring out at the ice cold water, not daring to look at the boy beside you, no matter how badly you wanted to. You felt his fingers interlace with yours. “Ready?” He asked.

“Nope. let's do it,” You told him, squeezing his hand. You followed his movements. As soon as his body lunged forward, yours followed, hitting the icy water almost instantly. It felt as if there were pins and needles poking you on every inch of your body, and when you finally came back up to the surface, you gasped trying to catch your breath, your body tensed up from the shock of the temperature.

"Adventures. Are. Dumb." You shuttered. You could see Harry's teeth catering together.

"That. That was stupid," he admitted swimming back to the dock and pulling himself out. He reached out his hand, grabbing yours and hoisting you back onto the dock.

"Remind me to never go on an adventure with you again," you laughed, before realizing something. "We don't have towels,"

Harry's eyes widened, "no we don't," you stood on the dock, completely naked trying to shield your body.

"I have a blanket in my hatch. We can turn on the heater and sit under it until we're dry," you offered.

"That sounds good," he told you before grabbing the clothes from the ground. You rushed to your car, opening the trunk and jumping in. Luckily you had left the keys in the ignition, so all it took was you leaning over the seat to crank on the car. Forgetting about your completely exposed state. Harry pulled the hatch closed as he crawled into the car, tossing the clothes into the back seat and unfolding the blanket. You plopped down beside him, pulling the corner to cover yourself, hoping the heater would warm the two of you up fast.

After a few (awkward) moments, Harry finally spoke up. "You have a nice body," he said quietly. You felt your cheeks heat up at his words.

"Harry, were you looking at my naked body?" You joked, knowing it would have been impossible for him to have not seen you.

"I mean, when I came to crawl in you were bent over the back seat. Like on full display. Would have been hard to not look," he laughed, turning away to hide the blush that was gracing his ears and cheeks. "This trunk is roomy," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Me and Sam had to sleep in here once, hence the blanket," you told him.

"So you two?" Harry wondered.

"No, never. He's like my half-soulmate, like in a friendly way, you know?" You asked.

"Well he's my womb mate so kind of," he admitted. You couldn't help but laugh. "You know, we will probably warm up faster, if we're closer," Harry said shyly. His logic was right, but you were worried about your self control.

"Yeah, ok," you mumbled, scooting closer, until your leg was touching his.

"Can I put my arm around you?" He asked. You nodded quickly. You let out a sigh of relief at his warmth,as you let yourself snuggle into his body, being cautious not to place your hands anywhere questionable.

It was nice. It was strangely intimate as well. "Sam told us you were beautiful, but I can't believe how breathtaking you are," Harry said quietly after a few minutes. You glanced up to his face, his eyes were closed, and it seemed like he was trying to focus on his breathing.

"Are you just saying that because you have seen me naked?" You asked. He laughed, before opening his eyes and looking at you.

His eyes met yours, and it was like you were each seeing something you had been looking for for way too long. You saw his eyes shift down to your lips.

"No, Y/N, you are just breathtaking, clothes and all," he told you, brushing stray hairs from your face.

Your next movements were slow. You glanced down to his lips, and back to his eyes before slowly leaning in, giving him plenty of time to curve your movements, but he didn't. Instead he followed them.

"We shouldn't," you whispered, faces so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

"I know," he told you. You bit your bottom lip, before looking into his eyes. There was something about Harry, something that was throwing all your inhibitions out the window. All you could think about was how his lips would feel on yours. His hand reached up, rubbing his thumb across your face, you closed your eyes and leaned in, closing the distance between your lips.

The second your lips met you felt something ignite in you. He kissed you slowly, not rushing into anything. His lips were soft and warm, and made you melt into him. Turning your body more, your naked chest pressed against his as your fingers laced themselves in the curls on the base of his neck.

As he rested his hand on your waist, squeezing lightly, as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue swiped across your lower lip, looking for access, which you quickly granted. You leaned back as his lips found themselves trailing your jaw and to your neck.

"Sam will kill us," you let out, as you threw your head back giving him more access to your neck.

"Let him," he mumbled into your neck, before continuing his task. You knew you should stop him. This was the first step, in the wrong direction. Harry was someone you could easily fall in love with, and if you stopped now, you could pretend this naked, heated, makeout session had never happened. But then his hand slid down from your waist to your thigh, as he pushed you farther back onto your back.

You pulled his face back to yours, reconnecting your lips with his in a hungry kiss.

You continued the heated kissing for a while, letting yourself lose control, something that did not come easily for you.

"Harry," you moaned into his lips, making him lift his head.

"Tell me what you want darling," he told you, face red from kissing you. You pushed him up and over so he was sitting again.

"Do you want me?" You asked. He nodded quickly, grabbing your waist to pull you over to him. You threw one of your legs over his, and let him get himself situated, grabbing his hard member and lining it up to your entrance. You let yourself sink down slowly onto him, enjoying the initial feeling of him filling you up.

"Christ, y/n, you're so tight," he groaned, as he bottomed out on top of him. you leaned forward resting your head on his shoulder, getting used to the stretch he was giving you, before you started to move slowly. He kept his hands on your hips, helping you with your moviments, but never forcing them, letting you choose the speed of your thrusts.

Harry peppered your neck with kisses as you held onto him, letting little moans and whines escape your mouth as you rode him slowly.

He whispered sweet nothings to you, making you lose it, hearing you were 'perfect' and 'so beautiful,'

"M'So close," you moaned out, as your movements became more rigid.

"I've got you darling," Harry whispered as he took over, and began thrusting up into you, he let his hand slip between your body's, finding your bundle and rubbing it as he thrust into you. "Oh god," you groaned, throwing your head back.

"Let go for me darling," he said as he pressed open mouth kisses to your neck.

As soon as you felt him twitch inside of you, you felt the band in your stomach snap. You felt yourself convulsing around him as his thrusts became sloppy and slowed, having hit his peak with you.

You let your forehead rest against his, both of your breathing heavy. "Wow," you whispered.

"I think I like adventures with you," he chuckled, making you roll your eyes before kissing him again.

Your eyes opened to the light streaming through the window. At first you were confused at the amount of windows surrounding you, and then it hit you.

"Oh god," you groaned, sitting up.

"What?" Harry gasped, sitting straight up.

"We fell asleep," you told him as you rustled around you to find your clothes. "I don't know where my clothes are," you groaned. Harry placed a hand on your check, turning your face to him.

"Back seat darling," he told you, before leaning in and kissing you. He pulled away sooner than you would have liked and reached over the seat grabbing the clothes from last night.

You both dressed quickly, moving to the front of the car. The drive home wasn't a long one, and you were relieved when you arrived home to find that neither Sam or Tom were there.

"So," Harry said as you poured both of you a glass of water.

"What?" You giggled sliding it over to him.

"Last night was incredible for me, and I don't do the sleeping with random people thing," he told you.

"And you think I do?" You asked him.

"What? No!" He told you, nearly spitting out his water. You couldn't help but laugh. "I just mean, that I'd like to do it again, maybe take you out as well, get to know you more," he told you, reaching for your hand. You laced your fingers with his, blushing as a smile spread across your face.

"I'd like that," you whispered. Harry went to move around the counter, but as soon as he got off the stool the front door swung open and a very hungover Sam and an amused Tom came in. Pushing whatever moment you were having to the back burner.

"You let him get pissed?" You asked Tom as you rushed over to your best friend who looked like death.

"To be fair, I tried to stop him multiple times, but he kept telling me 'I'm in college I can handle my booze'" Tom laughed.

"Sammy," you groaned as you pushed him onto the couch.

"Sorry mom," he mumbled as his eyes fluttered shut.

You rolled your eyes at how dumb he could be.

"What did you guys do last night?" Tom asked, walking over to where Harry was in the kitchen.

"Went on a late night adventure," Harry told him, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh yeah? What did you do?" Tom repeated.

"Nothing really," Harry mumbled, trying to avoid Tom. But Tom knew Harry better than anyone.

"Harry?" Tom asked, making the boy look at him.

Tom gasped, looking from Harry over to you and then back. "Tell me you didn't Baz," Tom groaned.

"Didn't want?" You asked, confused.

"You two had sex," tom whisper yelled.

Your eyes grew wide and you could feel your cheeks heating up, "how would you gather that by just looking at him?" You demanded.

"Sex glow," Tom explained.

You snorted before rolling your eyes. "Oh whatever," you told him, not buying it.

"So you didn't then?" Tom asked, looking directly at Harry, who's cheeks immediately reddened. "Jesus you two, Sam is going to be livid," he informed you.

"We're not going to tell him," Harry said quickly, to which you agreed just as quickly.

Tom shook his head, "was it just the one shag? Or are there feelings?" Tom asked. You looked at Harry and bit your lip. He nodded before speaking back up. "Just the one shag, no feelings at all, " he lied.

You sat in the driver's seat of your car, waiting. Memories flooding your mind of that night weeks prior. You glanced down at your phone, checking the time again. You were being impatient, but to be fair you had been waiting for this for a long time, too long. Having had to accept secret calls and texts as enough for the time being. But now it was time, you somehow managed to clear up a weekend, and he happened to be free, and now you were going to sneak away, and not be a secret for just a few days, not have to hide behind a screen, or be a distant voice.

Your phone began to buzz in your lap and you looked down to see the contact name you had changed a few weeks ago “My baz <3”

“You here?” you asked, bringing it up to your ear.

“Just landed. Am I getting my bag and heading out to you?” he wondered.

“Yup. and then we will have two whole days uninterrupted, just us, in a virbo, naked, and sweaty and-” you were cut off by his laughing.

“Someone is clearly eager,” he told you.

“Fuck, i messed you sweetheart” he told you.

“Yes i am, the phone sex and sexting isn't doing it for me, I've literally had the real thing baby. Now I want it again, so hurry up so we can get out of town,” you groaned, as there was a knock on your window. You jumped, and turned to see him standing at your door, red curls crazy from a cat nap he had surly taken on the flight over, and a smile so big you could drown in it. You jumped from the car throwing yourself into his already full arms, making him drop his duffel bag, but he didn't seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around your waist lifting you up in his hug, and burying his face in your neck.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat.

"Let's go," you urged him, impatient for what you knew was to come later. You began the hour-long drive to the weekend rental you had gotten for the two of you. Making sure you would be alone, and able to not be bothered by anything. Or so you thought.

"Sam's calling you," Harry said as you turned another corner.

"What, why? He thinks I'm with my dad for the weekend," you told Harry. Looking down at your phone. Harry shrugged.

You answered the phone hoping it was nothing.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I uh, have a problem," Sam sounded worried.

"What?" You asked.

"I wanted to make sure it was okay that I invited Harry to stay with us for the two weeks we have off of school next month, because I already invited him.. and I totally forgot to ask," he muttered. You felt a smile grow on your lips.

"I don't know Sam, I'm not sure me and Harry got on well," you joked, peaking Harry's interest.

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I just thought he was annoying and I'm pretty sure he didn't like me at all," you told him. Harry started to shake his head and roll his eyes. "I am fine with it Sammy,"

"You sure?" Sam wondered. "Cause I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable by any means,"

"Positive," you confirmed

"How's spending time with your dad?" He asked you.

"Good, hey look we just got somewhere so I gotta go, call you back later. Love you, bye," you hung up the phone before he could continue any conversation, knowing he would keep you on the phone for an hour if you let him.

"You love him?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"You love Sam?" He repeated.

"Course I do," you smiled at him.

"He's lucky to have you, you're a good friend," he told you. Your brows furrowed as you looked over to him.

"Is that what we are? Friends?" You asked. You parked the car in front of the house and turned to look at Harry.

"Do you want to be more?" He Wondered.

"I mean, the way I feel about you, I don't feel about any of my other friends," you whispered.

"And how do you feel?" He asked.

"Well, when I see that you're calling or texting me I get this feeling in my stomach, it's like an insistent fluttering, that never goes away, as long as I'm talking to you, gets me all flustered and nervous. And when you told me you were going to be able to come this weekend, I was so excited, because it meant I could spend even a second with you alone." You smiled at him before biting your lip, "I really like you,"

"I like you too y/n, more than I think I've ever liked anyone," he told you, reaching his hand out to caress your cheek. "And because of that I've had something on my mind,"

"Oh yeah? You asked

"Yeah, I mean I know it won't make much of a difference since we'll still have to keep it a secret, but I'd really like it if you were my girlfriend," he told you, his cheeks flushed red as he watched you closely for a reaction.

You leaned in close, nearly touching his lips with your own, "I would love to be your girlfriend," you whispered before closing the space between you in a kiss.

Everything with Harry was easy, even though the situation was strange, and the secrets and lying were hard, everything felt natural. Every Time you talked to him it felt like home, and you knew you were in over your head. If you had hoped to not fall in love with him, you absolutely would have been let down by yourself. You knew you were going to hell for lying to Sam, but you couldn't change the way you felt, and although you wished you weren't hurting him, you didn't regret anything you had going on with his twin brother.

You entered the little rental house, surprised at how cute and quaint the decor was. It had a very boho chic feel to it, there was a four poster bed in the middle of the room with sheer curtains streaming down. There was a little sectional in the corner with a television in front of it, and a little kitchenette to the right of the room. The owners had left a fresh vase of roses on the little table along with a basket that had chocolates and a few other things inside.

“This is romantic,” Harry said, as he looked around the room.

“The pictures were cute, and it had good reviews, i didn't expect this though,” you admitted.

Harry walked over to the bed, pushing the drape to the side and looking towards you. “Come test it out with me?” He asked. You rolled your eyes at him, but went over, slipping off your shoes and climbing onto the bed (Which felt like a cloud)

“It's nice,” you hummed as you let your body sink into the mattress.

“Be nicer, if i wasn't so constricted by these clothes,” he told you, making you look over to see his smirking face.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, turning to face him.

“Oh yeah,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows at you. He adjusted himself to his side so he was facing you now.

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered.

“That night,” he muttered, “The way you looked, riding me, falling apart on my cock. How tight your pussy was and the way it clenched around me while I whispered sweet nothings in your ear,” your eyes widened in shock at the filth of his words.

“Harry,” you giggled.

“Come on, you know you have been thinking of it. I know I can't get the sound of your moans out of my head, the small whimpers you were letting out with every stroke of my cock on your g spot,” you felt your walls clench around nothing at his words. He knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well. “I just wish we had had more time that night, I could have had you whimpering if I had been given the chance. I would have filled you up good with my fingers, and eaten you like you were my last meal,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep from letting off how unbelievably aroused you were. You had rushed straight to the point the last time you and Harry had been left alone, but now.. There was no rush, no time crunch, you had all night, and all weekend to give into your sexual desires. Lord knows you have already given into your emotional ones.

“Show me,” you challenged, stealing a glance at the way his mouth widened with your words. He pushed himself up onto his knees in between your legs, grabbing your ankles and pulling you down the bed and closer to him. “Harry,” you giggled.

He ran his hands up your clothed legs, and up your body, until he was leaning over you, his face close enough that you could smell his shampoo and feel his breath fanning across your lips. “Want to make you feel good,” he whispered.

“Do it then,” you groaned, arching your back up and into a kiss. His hands found your waist, sliding them under your shirt as he kissed you like his life depended on it. He slowly pushed your shirt up until it was pooled above your breasts and he then pulled the fabric of your bra down, taking your already pebbled nipple between his fingers and rolling it, which made a slight moan escape from your mouth.

“Can I take these off?” he asked. You nodded quickly, sitting slightly up so he could remove the shirt. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, but not without a little struggle. When he finally managed to get it undone, he slid the straps down your arms tossing it to the side, before dipping his head down, and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You let out a loud gasp at the sensation, as your hands instinctively found themselves tangled in his auburn curls. He made sure to do the same to the other breast before trailing open mouth kisses down your stomach and stopping at your waistband of your leggings. Glancing up to you for permission, which you nodded, overly eager for him. He hooked his finger in the waistband peeling your leggings and underwear down in one sweep. He could see how wet you already were for him, from the glistening sheen of your cunt.

He ran two fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit and pushing down. “Oh,” you moaned out at the unexpected pressure.

“So wet for me darling,” Harry whispered.

“I have been waiting for this,” you admitted, looking up to see him smirking at you.

“Oh you have?” He asked, pulling his fingers almost all the way out before plunging them back in. He brushed your g spot with the tip of his fingers making you moan out his name and arch your back. “Been waiting for this?” he asked as he continued to finger fuck you.

“Yes, Harry,” you moaned, as you felt a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Harry moved his thumb, and you almost whined at the loss of stimulation, until you felt his tongue lick up from above his fingers to your nub, wrapping his lips around it as he began to suck slightly. You were done at that point, and you knew it. “So close har,” you warned, but he didn't falter in his actions in the slightest. Instead he sped them up, pushing you over the edge even faster. With a loud moan of his name, your back arched off the mattress and your toes curled, as you felt an explosion of bliss. Harry continued his movements through your orgasm, only slowing and coming to a stop when your legs quit shaking and you seemed to relax.

“Fuck, y/n. You're bloody perfect,” he mumbled, bringing his lips to yours, you could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn't even mind. All you could focus on was the fact that he was way overdressed, for the activities you wanted to partake in. you grabbed at the hem of his shirt, and he broke away from the kiss to allow you to pull the shirt over his head.

You took a second to admire his bare chest, he was muscular, but wasn't overly defined, and he, well he was perfect.

“You're breathtaking, you know?” You told him, making him turn a shade of red.

“Shut up,” he giggled, before reconnecting your lips in another kiss.

You let your nails graze the naked skin on his back making him groan, and rut his hips against yours. His clothed bulge rubbing against your naked sex. “Take em off,” you instructed. He pushed himself up onto his knees, unbuttoning his jeans, but before he could push them down you sat up grabbing his hands to stop him. “Can i?” you asked.

He smiled at you before nodding. You pushed his jeans down as much as you could, you could see the outline of his cock that was straining against his boxers. You leaned forward, placing an open mouthed kiss on the fabric. “Fuck,” harry groaned. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see him looking down at you.

“Want me to..” you asked.

“Yes, fuck yes. If you want to, I mean,” he stuttered out. You smiled up at him, pushing the fabric of his boxers down until his cock was free of the restraint. You took his length in your hand, pumping it a few times, as you licked your lips and leaned forward, taking him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down as you worked what your mouth couldn't take with your hand. Harry held onto your hair loosely, watching as you sucked him off. “M’close,” he warned you. You continued what you were doing, not caring, he had done it for you, the least you could do was return the favor. You felt him begin to twitch against your tongue, as his grip on your hair tightened and his hips rutted forward, nearly making you gag before you felt him release himself the warm liquid slipping down your throat. You pulled your head back letting him out of your mouth with a pop.

Harry pushed you back onto the bed, making you giggle at his eagerness. He let his body fall to yours, lips crashing in a deep kiss. His fingers laced with yours above your head as he moved his kisses down your jaw to your throat, sucking lightly, leaving small marks that would be a reminder for days. ��Harry, I need you,” You whined.

He lifted his head smiling, bringing his lips back to yours. His hand slipped between your bodies, lining himself up at your entrance before sinking slowly into you. He slowly thrust into you, setting a slow pace.

“Faster, baby, please,” you moaned out. He grabbed your thigh lifting it lightly as he began to thrust into you harder.

“You're so tight,” he groaned, as he began to quicken his movements. You reached down, rubbing your nub as he pounded into you.

“I'm close,” You told him as you neared your second orgasm.

He reached down, replacing your fingers with his, “Cum all over my cock darling,” he groaned. His fingers circled your clit, and with one particularly deep thrust, you felt yourself clench around him, as you whimpered at the relief. After a few more movements Harry's hips stilled and his body went limp, laying his head onto your chest. “That was incredible, you are incredible,” he told you as he laid there trying to catch his breath.

You smiled as your eyes fluttered closed, sleep taking over your overworked body.

The weekend passed quicker than it had even come, and before you knew it you were kissing Harry goodbye at the airport where you had picked him up two days prior.

“I wish we had more time,” you whispered as you hugged him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I'll be here next month, love. Five weeks and we will be back together, promise,” He whispered into your ear, kissing the top of your head.

“I'll hold you to it,” you told him, kissing his lips one final time before he had to leave.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, before walking away. Just like that, faster than he had arrived in Scotland, he left for London.

The drive to your place was quiet, and the whole time you were fighting the urge to cry. You parked your car, and grabbed your bag, noticing a pink sleeve peeking out. You unzipped it, and saw Harry's pink hoodie, that he had probably shoved into your bag after you had practically lived in it and only it for the weekend. You couldn't help but smile to yourself. You shoved the hoodie farther into your bag, zipping it up and heading up to your flat.

As soon as you opened the door you were hit with the aroma of a home cooked meal. Sam was standing facing the stove, focused on whatever he was stirring.

“Smells good Sammy,” you said, startling him.

“Oh good, your home. Come stir this for me,” he instructed holding a spoon out to you.

"Yes chef," you said, bringing your hand up to your head and saluting him.

"You're an idiot," he groaned at you. You walked over taking the spoon and began to stir the sauce while he cut up garnish for the top. "How was your weekend with your dad?" He asked.

"Uh good, busy, but ok," you lied. Seemed like you were doing a lot of that to Sam recently.

"So you guys worked everything out from that fight?" He asked you. Your eyes grew wide, realizing you had fucked up. You and your dad had gotten into a fight about money, and afterwards he had cut you off, and told you to get your life in order. It had been months since you had spoken.

"No, but we pretended so that my gram wouldn't be upset," you lied again.

"Oh, that makes sense. I was confused when you said you were going to spend the weekend with him, I thought you might have been lying to me, glad that wasn't the case," he said as he drained the pasta.

Guilt. That was the only thing you felt. Guilty for being a bad best friend. Guilty for lying. Guilty for not sticking to a promise you had made. You were going straight to hell.

It had been a few days since yours and Harry's weekend, and he was set to be back in a little over a month. You were sitting on the couch, laptop in your lap when the pain started. At first it was a slight pinching sensation, but soon it became like a stabbing pain, and you nearly doubled over from the intensity. You tried to stand up, but let out a groan as the pain increased. Sam looked up, worried filling his face at the sight of you.

“Y/N? You're bleeding, what's going on?” He asked, as he rushed to your side. You looked down to see a line of blood down both of your legs, and immediately got dizzy.

“Sammy, I'm gonna pass out,” You warned him.

“I’m taking you to the doctor,” he told you as he practically carried your limp body down to your car and drove you to the nearby emergency clinic.

The doctors drew blood and put in an i.v to get fluids into you, all the while Sam never left your side, holding your hand tightly as he knew you hated doctors offices.

“Okay darling, we're going to run some tests and get to the bottom of why you're feeling so bad,” the nurse told you, as she left the room. Sam sat beside you as you laid in the bed, squeezing your hand lightly.

“It's alright, you're okay,” he cooed as he stroked your hair. Just then the door opened and a doctor came into the room.

“Miss, Y/L/N, i have some unfortunate news, it looks like you're experiencing a miscarriage,” your jaw dropped as you heard the words coming from his mouth. You glanced up at Sam who was looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“I- what?” you asked. Clearly not registering what you had just heard.

“The HCG levels in your blood make me think you were maybe around ten weeks pregnant, which would explain the extreme blood loss, and the feeling like you were going to faint. The unfortunate thing is that there is not much medically that we can do, so we will send you home. Try and get some rest, take it easy and if you experience any clotting bigger than a golf ball, come back in. ill have the nurse work up your discharge paperwork,” he turned to exit the room but stopped in the doorway, “I’m sorry guys, i know this must be hard news,” and then he left.

“You were pregnant?” Sam asked.

“I guess so,” you mumbled.

“Who have you slept with? What was ten weeks ago? That was like-” Sams face fell. He looked down at you, “That was our holiday week, ten weeks ago,” He told you. You winced at his insinuation, which in and of itself gave you away. “Tell me you weren't pregnant with my brother's baby y/n?” he sighed.

You weren't sure if it was being caught in a lie, the hormones coursing through your body, or the fact that you had just been told that you had lost a baby you were never even aware of, but you felt a sudden surge of emotions, as your eyes glossed over. Sam noticed this almost instantly.

“Shit y/n honey, please don't cry,” he told you, but it was too late as the tears began to spill from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you nearly wailed. Sam pulled you into his arms as you cried your heart out, mumbling things about how ‘awful of a person you were’ and how you ‘didn't deserve him in your life’.

“Y/N, try and breathe, and tell me what happened,” he whispered as soon as your crying settled slightly. So you tried to explain what had happened, where you had gone wrong, and when your heart had been opened to his brother.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked as Sam tucked you into the couch with your favorite fuzzy blanket. He hadn't said a word to you since you had left the hospital.

“I am,” he sighed, sitting down beside you. “Y/n, what happens if he hurts you? If he breaks your heart into a million pieces? What happens when I'm forced to choose a side? What happens when I have to choose him over you even if I know he was in the wrong?” he asked, voice cracking, and tears prickling his eyes. “What happens if I lose you over something he does? I'd be crushed, your my best friend, the person i turn to when things are hard, the one who knows me inside and out, the one id trust with my life, but he is my brother, my twin brother, you are like a stranger compared to the way i know him,”

“Sam-”

“No, y/n. Just- I can't have this conversation right now, because i want to yell at you, tell you how betrayed i feel, but i can't because this- what your going through, is bigger than what i feel right now,” he stood up pulling his phone from his pocket and walking to the front door. “And that's why I called him,” he said before opening the door.

You felt tears form in your eyes again at the gesture. Your best friend putting his own feelings to the side to make sure you were ok. Harry stepped inside the house, offering a small smile to Sam who just nodded at him, obviously hurt. Harry went straight to you, pulling you into his arms as you started to cry again, this time it was even worse.

Harry held you for what felt like hours as you cried until you fell asleep. He placed your body down gently before walking to the kitchen where Sam was standing.

“Mate-”

“No, you don't get to start. Why her? Out of every person in the world, why her?” Sam demanded.

“It just happened,” Harry said.

“That is not a reason,” Sam argued.

“She's it Sam, I don't know,” Harry said.

“You wouldn't have known that had you left her alone,” Sam was verging on pissed at that point.

“No, Sam, you don't understand. I didn't need to know her, the second I saw her in the airport standing beside you, her hair tied up and in that old pearl jam t-shirt. Everything changed, call it a gut feeling, or me being an idiot, but I swear to god Sam, I fell in love with her before she even spoke a word to me,” Harry explained, hearing the words he said for the first time out loud.

“You're in love with her?” Sam asked.

“Desperately,” he admitted.

“I'll hurt you, if you hurt her,” Sam warned.

“I wouldn't expect anything less,”

“And if she hurts you, well, i cant hurt her but i'll give her an earful,” Sam laughed.

“I know,” Harry laughed.

“God it had to be my best friend?” Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, the heart wants what it wants,” Harry said.

“Who are you? Selena Gomez?” Sam asked, hitting his brother's shoulder. “I’m sorry, about the baby,”

“I didn't even know there was a baby till you called,” He told Sam.

“She didn't know until today. You guys were careful, yeah?” he asked Harry.

“Uhh,”

“Harry! You fucking div! condoms man!” Sam groaned.

“I know it was just-”

“No, no, no. I do not want to hear the specifics of you sleeping with my best friend, just- next time, CONDOMS!” Sam stressed.

“Okay, okay, that's easy enough,” Harry laughed.

“You look nervous,” Sam laughed from the passenger seat of Harry's car.

“I am,” you told him,

“You have met mum before darling,” Harry reminded you.

“Yeah, as Sam's roommate and best friend, Not as your girlfriend,” you explained. Your stomach was in knots the entire drive from the airport to the Hollands family home. This was all new territory, sure you and Harry had been together for eight months, but meeting the family was a big feat, even if you had met them all before your relationship had started.

“I promise you will be fine, love” Harry assured you.

“I'll hold you to that,” You muttered, as he pulled into the driveway of an extremely nice house. You felt your jaw drop, as you glanced around the house, unaware that they had grown up in such a nice place.

Your door opened, and Harry held out his hand for you to take, which you did. Stepping out of the car and smoothing the bottom of your dress down. “Ready?” Harry asked.

You smiled up at him, “Nope. let's do it,” you squeezed his hand lightly as he pulled you along, Sam following closely behind.

The inside of the house was just as nice, pictures of the boys lined the walls from when they were tots until now. You heard the pitter patter of paws on the hardwood and looked over to see a blue staffy running towards you. Sam dropped down hugging the dog.

“Hi Tess, hi darling, oh i missed you too,” You giggled at the sight of the dog smothering Sam in kisses.

“Just in time,” Niki sang as she rounded the corner. “Oh y/n,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “So glad you could join us for the holidays,” she told you, squeezing your shoulders.

“Mum,” Harry said.

“Oh yes, sorry please go ahead,” she giggled while backing up.

“Mum, this is Y/n, my girlfriend,” Harry said, making you shoot him a strange look.

“Oh so nice to meet you,” she gushed with a giggle.

“What-”

“He insisted he re-introduce us with your new title,” she explained. You laughed glancing up to see a blush covering his cheeks.

“You're cute,” you told him, before being whisked away to meet the rest of the Holland crew.

The night ran late, as you got to know everyone. The whole Holland family was easy to get along with, you spent most of the time laughing at embarrassing childhood stories and telling stories of Sam at school.

“Are you ready to go?” Harry whispered in your ear when he noticed you had yawned for the third time. You nodded, eyes feeling heavy from the long day. You went around saying your goodbyes to everyone, Sam opting to just head back later. So you and Harry took off to his flat which he shared with Tom and a few friends.

Once you got to his place, he grabbed your bag, leading you inside, and passed two boys who were occupied in front of a video screen. “You can meet them tomorrow,” He told you as he helped you up the stairs.

His room was nice, quite what you would expect from a boys room, plain bed, empty dresser, there was a shelf full of movies, and a large tv, but nothing extreme.

“Can i have a shirt?” You asked. “To sleep in?”

Harry smiled at you before walking over to the dresser and pulling out an old t-shirt. “This one will look nice on you,” He told you.

“Help me out of these clothes?” you asked. He leaned forward bringing his lips to you as his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress. He unzipped it slowly, pushing it off your shoulders before it fell to your ankles, revealing the lingerie set you had bought for him.

“Oh god,” he groaned looking at the black and gold lace that lined your body.

“You like it?” You asked with a cheeky smile.

“I'm going to like it even more once it's on my floor,” he told you as he grabbed your bum, lifting you up and carrying you to his bed. He threw you down, and you landed with a giggle as he attacked your neck with kisses, trailing the patterned lace that laid over your breasts with one hand. “The things i want to do to you,” He growled in your ear.

“Do whatever you want baz, i'm all yours,” You said with a wink.

“Whatever I want huh? What if I just want to make sweet love to you all night?” He asked, catching you off guard.

You smiled and brought your thumb up to his mouth tracing his lip and the birthmark right beside it. “Make love to me then,” you whispered.

Harry bit his bottom lip, as he looked into your eyes. “I love you,” He blurted for the first time.

You felt your smile grow even wider, as you leaned up, kissing his lips softly. “I love you,” You mumbled into his lips.

You stayed tangled together, lips clashing, tension burning between you, for a while.

“Harry,” You moaned into his kiss.

“Yeah baby?” He asked.

“Make sweet love to me?” You nearly begged.

He smiled wide, jumping up and walking to his dresser, pulling out a little foil square and tossing it to you before quickly undressing himself. You took the chance to slip out of the lingerie you had on, laying naked and waiting for him.

He crawled onto the bed next to you. “Sit down,” you told him.

“Yeah?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” you told him.

He sat down, back to the pillows, and legs spread open, waiting for you. You ripped open the condom, rolling it over his member slowly in a teasing manner. “Y/N” he groaned, making you laugh.

“Alright,” You laughed, climbing on top of him, and lining him up to your entrance.

“This feels familiar,” He whispered as you sank down onto him.

“Going back to the beginning,” you whispered as you began to move slowly. You wrapped your fingers in his hair as you brought your lips to his, letting all the love flow between the two of you.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into your lips.

“I'm in love with you,” You told him. He grabbed your bum before flipping you onto your back. “Harry,” You giggled.

“I'm so glad I found you y/n. I feel like I had been lost at sea and you were the lighthouse that guided me home,” he expressed.

“Harry,” You whispered feeling your heart skip a beat.

“I love you so much,” He whispered, before connecting your lips again, and moving his hips, sinking farther and farther into you with each thrust. You continued to kiss him, fingers tangled into his curls as he grinded into you, bringing you both to your breaking points.

“Harry,” You moaned as you reached your climax.

“God Y/n, you look so beautiful falling apart because of my cock,” he groaned as his thrusts became rigid and rough.

“Cum for me, Harry,” You moaned in his ear as he reached his peak finishing into the condom.

He rolled off of you, disposing of the condom in the bin by his bed and turning back to you.

“I love you,” He whispered again.

“I like the sound of that,” You sighed, as you snuggled into his body. “And I love you too,” you whispered.

#harry holland #harry robert holland #harry holland smut #harry holland imagine #harry holland fluff #harry holland x y/n #sam holland #harry holland x you #harry holland x reader #harry holand x female reader #sam holland best friend #harry holland one shot

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abumbledbee · 4 years ago

Text

Tubbo and Wilbur’s Parallels

tw/ mentions of death / suicidal ideations

“If I can’t become the next Schlatt, then you can’t become the next Wilbur.”

This is a quote from Tubbo, given just before the exile arc began, when he was arguing with Tommy. Tommy accused him of acting like Schlatt because he was putting the nation's needs before him. Tubbo, offended at the comparison, reminds Tommy that he is acting irrationally, and is reminding Tubbo of Wilbur.

When we speak of parallels between Tubbo and Tommy with Schlatt and Wilbur, we’re often inclined to compare Tubbo with Schlatt, because they worked together so closely during Schlatt’s reign, and the complicated relationship between them which ultimately ended up with Schlatt having Tubbo lose a canon life for his betrayal. And due to Tommy and Wilbur's close relationship before and up to Wilbur's betrayal, it's easy to draw comparisons between them as well.

But I think we often overlook a lot of similarities between Tubbo and Wilbur that are worth delving into more, and the farther Tubbo goes with his character the more comparisons I keep catching. At this point I think Tubbo's character parallels Wilbur's far more than Tommy's does.

Wilbur was the founder of L’Manberg, and its first president. It’s a nation he built from the ground up, which started as nothing more than a front for his drug lab but grew into something bigger and more meaningful than Wilbur ever planned for. While on the server he found love (?) and had a child, Fundy, and then things began to get rocky as they fought for their independence against Dream.

Ultimately Wilbur fails to protect L’Manberg and their independence is bought by way of Tommy sacrificing his discs in return. Wilbur ends up losing his country by way of being exiled when Schlatt wins office, and we watch his descent into madness as he realizes how much he cared for the country and how no matter what he does, what it once was is gone forever in his eyes. The Pogtopia arc originated with Wilbur trying to come up with a plan to secure his presidency again and to reclaim his country. It ends with Wilbur refusing his original role and ultimately destroying the very thing he created along with himself because he couldn’t bear to see what it or himself had become.

In Wilbur’s darkest moments we see them play out on screen, his button room is one of the most iconic scenes we got during this period of the storyline. Wilbur in an enclosed space, surrounded by the signs reminding him of what L’Manberg once was and what it would never be again. He's hounded by his thoughts, his mental state shattered and he no longer believes there's any other course of action.

Ultimately this is his final resting place, the room where he sets off the TNT that destroys L’Manberg for the first time. He begs his father, who had just arrived to the server because he was worried when Wilbur stopped sending him letters, to kill him. And Phil does.

L’Manberg’s story does not end here, despite what Wilbur did. It begins again, with Tubbo and a crater. We talk about Tubbo being president of L’Manberg as though he was just taking on the role and a nation the way Schlatt did, but in reality, he founded it again. Tubbo, along with Phil and others, REBUILT an entire city on the rubble of its former life. Tubbo’s L’Manberg is in fact nothing like Wilbur’s, except for the parts Tubbo purposely recreated, like the camar van.

The major difference in their takes on presidency is that Tubbo did this for Tommy, for Wilbur, for the original citizens. He took on the role of President out of duty to Wilbur who passed it down to him when he felt unfit to rule again. He did his best on behalf of everyone who fought on Pogtopia's side, to reclaim a nation they all had lost. In the end he lost it one final time, chunk errored by way of Phil, Techno, and Dream.

And from here on we see a new Tubbo. The bright-eyed, president-elect is no more, and instead he begins to isolate himself from the main server. He retreats to a snowy biome separated by water, and builds a house and gives it a name. Snowchester. Now, most people wouldn't give just a house a name. Even from the start Tubbo was creating a new community, without even realizing. Eventually Snowchester grew to be a legitimate colony of its own, with Jack Manifold, Foolish, and Puffy all moving in and setting up shop. He declares independence, and in doing so, decides he must ensure it any way possible. He's seen what happened to Wilbur's L'Manberg, how helpless the other man was in keeping it safe. He knows he failed his own L'Manberg, and he will not let it happen again.

He hatches a plan with Jack, and the answer is.... Nukes. A bomb, in other words. But instead of using it to destroy his nation, it'll be used to protect it. Tubbo designs it, and they ensure it works with a test launch before decommissioning the remaining two. Time passes and eventually, he's opening up to people again. Tubbo marries Ranboo and they adopt a child together.

Suddenly it's not just Tubbo, it's Tubbo and Ranboo, Tubbo and Michael, and then Tommy is gone. It's shocking, and unexpected, and he doesn't believe it at first. He's been so beaten down under Schlatt's regime he no longer openly shows his emotions, the closest we get to seeing his true grief during this time is when he stares at the memorial he just finished for Tommy in Snowchester. Then comes the anger.

He wants to know how this could've happened, he tries to investigate it, but before he can get too deep into it, Tommy's back. Revived, and Tubbo has had to experience losing him and gaining him back again twice now. Inevitably, like with most of Tommy's plans, Tubbo is roped into his next one. And it's a doozy. Tommy reveals that he wants to kill Dream, to ensure he can never revive anyone else, and Tubbo reluctantly accepts.

One of the most troubling moments during his investigative time was when he made a room for him to fill with his notes and evidence. At first glance it is deeply reminiscent of Wilbur's button room, the walls covered in signs and his lectern in the middle of the room mimicking the button. Because Tommy returns before he can get further in his investigating we'll likely never see this room again, but seeing him make it to begin with filled me with unease.

Tubbo has lost his fear of death. It's first noticed at Doomsday, when he defeatedly jumped in front of Techno's rocket launchers over and over again. We see inklings of it again and again, such as when he scoffs at his chat begging him not to investigate Techno for the TNT at the prison, saying he'd die. Tubbo just replies with "So be it." and continues on. We see it again when he and Ranboo investigate the Eggpire and get caught, and he continues to fight with them until he's only got a few hearts left. He mentions feeling exhilarated, full of life from almost losing his last. It's a reminder of the violent life he's had til this point, his time in the SMP filled with war and bloodshed since the very beginning. He's not afraid to fight despite being on his last life, in fact at times he seems almost ready to end it all.

Yesterday's lore stream was unsettling in a few different ways. The first being Tubbo casually mentioning how his eyes play tricks on him. It's a throwaway mention towards possible hallucinations or paranoia. He also refers to himself as paranoid later on when he's worried someone's hurt Michael, and it bothers him so bad that the next minute he rushes over to ensure Michael is safe. He is willing to do whatever he must now, to ensure Michael can grow up safely, much like Wilbur wanted for Fundy, with no Dream to terrorize the server any longer.

Wilbur's initial wish for L'Manberg once it was fully formed was for it to be a nation his son could grow up safely in, with all the possibilities at his fingertips, until their independence was threatened and he had to focus on leading an army instead of being a father.

But even more upsetting than that, is Tubbo's admission to how he designed the nuke. He tells Jack after one is stolen that there is a manual detonation option, a dead man's switch. He designed the bomb to have a suicidal solo detonation option as a last resort, so if he ever needed to use it and Jack wasn't there he could take matters into his own hands. Tubbo was so ready to ensure if something happened to his self-made colony he could deal his revenge even at the cost of his final life. His reasoning for making the nukes was not for self-defense, it was so he could finally take a swing back at whoever took from him again. He'd seen L'Manberg destroyed twice by people who initially sided with it, had 2 canon lives ripped from him by way of betrayals. He might not have thorns on his armor but by god will his death have them, and heaven help whoever is on the receiving end of his suicide-start nuke.

This mimics Wilbur's final steps but from the logical, more level-headed mind of Tubbo. He's created a bomb, a weapon of destruction he's willing to die with. Wilbur wanted to die with L'Manberg, Tubbo is willing to die for Snowchester.

#tubbo #wilbur #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #c!tubbo #meta #character analysis #trigger warning #tw #suicidal ideations #mentions of death #dream smp #vilbur #tommyinnit #ranboo #jack manifold

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

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Mon 15 March ‘21

FIRST TIME GRAMMY AWARD WINNING ARTIST HARRY STYLES!! From the bottom of the stairs to the top of the fucking world baby, get itttt!! He won Best Pop Solo Performance for smash hit Watermelon Sugar-- the other two categories he was up for went to others but he was a dark horse for any of them so getting one is awesome! Yeah the grammys are shit but I’m so happy for him to see him receiving validation and acclaim from the industry that has never appreciated what he (and his bandmates) are and can do as artists, it’s a fucking start you know? We can enjoy the moment! Harry did! His acceptance speech was short and it feels like he was blindsided and forgot everything (including not to swear on TV and as pro as he is you know that means he was absolutely reeling, I love that) but later he said “I want to thank my fans for giving me an environment to be free to make the music that I want to make and supporting me along the way the last ten years”, yes that’s right we have helped you find a place to feel good, and “this is an incredibly sweet icing on the cake of what I get to do everyday so thank you.”

But that’s not all! He also performed, and wore things! Say what you want about Harry (or better yet please DON’T at least to me but that’s a losing battle) we always get so hyped up about even just seeing his outfits and he does not let us down! BLACK LEATHER, TITS FULLY OUT, DICK BANANA CHARM, AND A MUPPET BOA? Yeah he did that! Shirtless under a patent leather suit, I mean: wow. Very glam rock, very… well listen it’s just very GAY in like so many different ways??? Harry Lambert said they wanted “something darker, sexier, and more unexpected” which is definitely about that look I’m assuming and not the pastel thrift store rummage bin hodgepodge he wore later, unless Harry(s) and I have very different ways of interpreting “darker”. (Harry L also said “free the nipple” and we can all see that he MEANT it.) Harry red carpet-ed and accepted his award in a lavender muppet boa, tits slightly less out but still cleavagey, and with a seemingly random collection of other garments YES BABY OKAY you just WEAR THAT THEN! About that Harry L said, “we wanted to do something that felt British and eccentric, a little bit rock ‘n’ roll and a little bit camp,” but the people have spoken and they said ‘we think he looked like Cher from Clueless’ so, sorry Harry(s)! Esquire struggling to describe the look-- “the kind of thing that Styles seems to make wearable” klasjdlk the doubtful ‘seems’ is sending me. Either way we can definitely all agree on the camp part, and that the matching face mask (as seen in the audience shots and in adorbs pics of him camping it up with Lizzo backstage) is amazing, love that (even if he does spend way too much time nervously pulling it on and off omg just LEAVE IT) and it even went also with outfit number THREE (or at least it did as well as any of his anything went together lol) which was a big floppy orange coat and plaid pants and a THIRD BOA, a dignified (haha JK NOPE it’s still a muppet) black number this time.

It seems the performance was filmed in advance rather than done live-- there were clues suggesting this might be the case, but the real giveaway was when a picture from it leaked before the broadcast, lol. Way to make it so we “can’t even tell if it’s live or not” Ben, and why is he STILL so obsessed with trying to gaslight us anyway my god just say what’s prerecorded it’s fiiiine. ANYWAY Harry played Watermelon Sugar and only WS; well after all it is his GRAMMY AWARD WINNING SONG. Plus it was a really nice version, all smooth and funky, with a highlight of the night being Harry’s full on 60s girl group choreo move with the backup singers, omg. Those backing vocalists were the duo G.A.W.D., and there was extra accompaniment by fellow nominee Devonte Hynes aka Blood Orange (who also directed the performance and no I do not know what that means) and “Spencer and Josh” on horns (the closest I can find to someone crediting them so, apologies guys). Anyway! All of them (regular HS band included) were decked out in matching gucci black leather too and looking good. And Harry looked so happy to be up there performing, just beaming like a lighthouse, so overall- good good stuff, I just keep on dancin!

The real bombshell of the performance though was subtle and needed confirmation after for the excitement to really hit-- it was Sarah drumming decked out in tight black leather and visibly pregnant!! That’s right, band drummer Sarah Jones is PREGNANT by (Grammy Award winning) guitarist Mitch, there’s a HARRY STYLES BAND BABY on the way!!!! WHAT A NIGHT! It wasn’t enough for Harry to find love in his own band, he’s somehow cupid-ing that energy all over the place and spreading it around, AMAZING!

And Liam comes through with not just a sweet congratulations for Harry (“what a huge moment, proud to be your brother” awwww) but also the final word on the performance look- goddammit it IS one of the rejected Best Song Ever video looks, LMAOOOO. But did he tag HSHQ instead of Harry directly in acknowledgment of how the awards system really works and that they are all to be congratulated or simply because it was easier? We will never know.

Additional tidbits-- bassist Hynes was apparently playing creative director Molly Hawkins’ dad’s bass- did we know her dad was a famous bassist who played with Fleetwood Mac and many other 70s stars?! If I did I had definitely forgotten! And more Molly news-- she’s also pregnant!! Harry will soon be surrounded by quarantine babies, dreams really coming true huh? Harry posted a pic of himself with Mitch and Devonte looking very cooool, we saw the ceramic watermelons label execs were sent for the WS release last year, and Rebecca Ferguson who knows 1D from way back when (and has recently drawn attention for talking frankly about how fucked up the industry is and about having seen unnamed boy band members literally slammed against the wall by their management) congratulated Harry and posted a couple of baby pop star Harry pics, cuuuute. Louis’ merch handlers, in response to no complaints whatsoever, sent out emails apologizing. They say they’ve run out of lanyards which were meant to be sent out so they will “be adding a freebie which we know you’ll enjoy” to affected customers’ orders. That is sucky about the lanyards but that’s customer care! Niall posted about his cool bright limited edition merch to remind that it will be gone gone gone tonight and also shared a pretty and touching picture from a the large anti violence rally held in London to protest the killing of Sarah Everard today. And finally some good advice from Bebe Rexha, loved by larries; she says she loves us right back but please don’t kill anyone for not streaming her new song! Yes good plan.

#grammy award winner #harry styles #liam payne #niall horan #louis tomlinson #CHASM baby (chaby)#also having a good day-- haylors! don’t begrudge them their excitement they haven’t been fed in like 8 years #let them carry on about Harry and Taylor actually sharing the same space and not being rude to each other especially if it continues to prod #the genuinely rofl hilarious analyses coming out of last night about them sending secret messages to each other in their performances #(which the other was definitely not present for whenever a celeb was present for another artists performance they did react cutaways)#15 mar 21 #harry lambert #molly hawkins #mitch rowland #sarah jones #ben winston #long post #sorrrrry

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peaches-writes · 4 years ago

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naturally

description: there’s something about bang chan, even if he’s not some senior crush you’ve pined over from the very beginning or a friend you’ve known forever, that just makes realizing that you’re in love with him as something that feels right member: chan genre: fluff, slice of life, high school au, college au, friends to lovers au, sports au (off season universe), campus dj au (if u squint), slow burn (?), fem reader word count: 12k wtf warning: explicit language, alcohol, a plot that makes zero sense note: idk what this is it’s so messy anw + @skzwriternet

Chan came in your life quite late—both literally and figuratively.

The two of you were in the 12th grade when you met, at a time when all everyone cared about were getting into their respective dream universities and establishing a solid group of friends to call back once they’re already on their separate ways. He got stuck in traffic that day and wasn’t allowed entry past the school gates at first because he didn’t get his uniform on time while you and your group of friends were on time in class, completely unexpecting of a new addition to the group as you all worried about the upcoming entrance exams.

“Oh, look at that, new kid.” Minho nudged your elbow and whispered loudly close to you that day, gesturing to the spaces between the curtains of the window facing the hallway. Outside, Chan was being ushered to the faculty room at the other end of the hall by a teacher, head hung low in embarrassment that he stood out with his black hoodie and sweatpants. “And no uniform on the first day—I feel like we should adopt him!”

You didn’t pay much attention to it at first, shrugging before returning to your messy Homeroom notes. An election was to be held at the end of the week and maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about it. “A bit risky, don’t you think? Right before the exams.” You mused out loud, more to the classroom elections than to the transferee.

“Do you think we’ll get him?” Minho asked anyway despite the lack of interest in your tone, leaning on your side of the shared table with a propped up elbow. “Or will Dahyun and Bam’s class next door?”

The answer was given to Minho over five minutes later, when the gentle sound of your Homeroom adviser’s voice was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Excuse me, good morning, Ms. Park!” The faculty head, Mrs. Liu, peered in your room that day with Chan trailing behind with curious eyes. “I’m so sorry for the interruption but your transfer student is now here!”

In front of the classroom, Ms. Park welcomed Chan with a smile and clasped hands. “Ah yes, Bang Chan, finally! Come on in!”

Chan introduced himself in awkward giggles and a slight miscalculated step when he didn’t immediately see the elevated area separating the black board and the first row of desks. “Hi, I’m eighteen-year-old student Bang Chan and I moved here from Sydney, Australia! Please take care of me!” You remembered him introducing himself at Ms. Park’s request before being seated right next to Hansol on the other end of the fourth row.

Minho, who eyed the boy curiously the entire time, sat up properly after and told you, “I’m gonna ambush him at recess. You wanna come with?”

You knew even then that you didn’t have to answer the question because as the bell rang for recess time, Minho had dragged you over to Hansol and Chan’s table as soon as he saw you pick up your wallet.

“Hi, I’m Minho and this is Y/N and we’re about to kidnap you!” Minho exclaimed as the two of you approached the unexpecting boy, earning you wide eyes from him. “If you want to, of course. Y/N’s gonna be class president again by Friday and I’m gonna be fighting Moonbin to the death for basketball captain so we’re clearly overqualified to show you around.”

You remember Hansol toppling over in laughter while you turned away in embarrassment. Not that it was uncommon for the most nonsense things to come out of Minho’s mouth then—in fact, it was quite the opposite.

Fortunately, Chan was easily persuaded. “Uh...sure, why not?” He grinned with relief, pushing his chair away from his desk and picking up his own wallet before following you and Minho downstairs to the cafeteria.

You ended up helping him buy snacks from the cafeteria and showing him around what you deemed as the most important areas of the campus within the thirty-minute recess. Because of the short time, he met your other friends belatedly at lunch.

Chan came in your life quite late—both literally and figuratively—but you suppose it’s not that bad because you’ve been friends ever since.

Minho was ‘disappointed but not surprised’ when Chan tried out for the swim team instead of his basketball team—his words not yours.

Club Week was not actually a week but a week and a half, giving everyone time to either succeed or fail in the clubs they signed up for and move on to the next. Since you were elected Class President, you decided on sticking only to what you considered your most important clubs for senior year: Volleyball and the school paper. Minho, on the other hand, unfortunately lost his ‘fight to the death’ with Moonbin over the team captain title but he kept insisting that it was because he really was fated to be the cheer dance team’s captain instead.

“At least, it’s one less sweaty kid I have to worry about.” You jokingly assured Minho once Club Week was over. You and your group of friends were huddled on your usual table that lunch break, comparing training and review center schedules.

“Ya, what does that mean?”

“It means you’re in two sports clubs and you never shower after any one of them!” Dahyun points out for you across the table, earning her ‘ooh’s and high-fives from everyone. “You should be embarrassed, Mingyu’s on three teams and he literally showers on Febreze.”

“But I do shower, just not as religiously as everyone.”

“Why not?”

“Climate change!”

You turned to Chan amidst the playful chaos, shaking your head in feigned disapproval. “Sorry, they’re five.”

The boy only chuckled. “It’s okay.”

“I’m glad you joined the school paper too, by the way.” You made sure to add, hinting that you saw him at your club assembly the week prior despite the large turn-out of people. “I heard from Jihyo at our last council meeting. Broadcasting, right?”

“Yep,” He nodded with pursed lips and an eye smile. “so you guys will hear me DJ for the rest of the year too.”

“Can’t wait.”

Chan’s first gig as the school radio’s DJ was the Friday that followed, in the middle of your student council meeting. He sounded nervous at first, which made you, Jihyo, and Seungkwan laugh while you were presenting your batch’s initiatives for the whole school year, but he made it out alive—and even included a shout out for you.

“Also, shoutout to Y/N! Thank you for showing me the ropes this month.” His voice echoed faintly through the hallways at lunch break. A pause then followed, what you assumed was Changbin and Jisung scolding him, before he snickered and said, “I guess Minho and Hansol, too! See you tomorrow, you guys!”

Ever since the 7th grade, you’ve made sure to follow each and every one of your closest friends’ extracurricular activies. From Dahyun’s and Jihyo’s recitals to Bam Bam’s and Minho’s competitions and meets, you were always there: half as a volunteer for the school paper and the other half as a cheering friend. It’s your way of looking out for your friends, by standing in the sidelines for support.

So naturally, with the addition of Chan to your friend group, you always came to his swim meets with a camera, a write-up outline, and a tarpaulin you’re quite sure Minho and Bam Bam didn’t make while sober the night before.

“Like the slogan, dolphin boy?” Bam Bam snickered at Chan as he sat on his designated waiting area right in front of your bleacher. It was the final tournament for the semester and your two other friends have decided on a lazy ‘Let’s go Dolphin Boy!’ decorated in glitters and a Photoshopped photo of Chan’s head in a dolphin. “When are you going on?”

Chan turned to your group and immediately slapped a hand to his face in embarrassment. “Oh my God...”

“To set the record straight, Jihyo and I were studying together last night and Dahyun was at piano lessons.” You held your hands up in self-defense to an eyeroll from Minho. “The poster’s all on Bam and Minho.”

“I know.” Chan mumbled behind his hand, removing it slowly after. “I’m on in five minutes. And what happens when I do get a place on the stands?”

“Then we’ll stand up and wave this harder!” Minho answered this time, aggressively waving the cartolina and causing a few glitters to scatter on your jeans.

“Minho!”

Chan competed in 1500 m I.M. and all the butterfly relays on that day and only then did you notice that he liked competing in them more than the other categories. You took photos and noted the important details with Bam Bam’s agile typing on your phone throughout the event, up until Chan received his mostly gold medals—when Bam Bam and Minho did kept to their word and ambushed the poor boy by throwing the slogan over his head when he asked for a group photo with everyone.

“This is like the Avengers of extended friend groups!” Dahyun joked once the chaos has died down and you’ve managed to get everyone to prepare for a couple of group photos. “Now I’m even more excited for dinner!”

A couple of Chan’s childhood friends also came that day—Younghyun, Somi, Sana, Lisa, and Matthew whom you befriended after over dinner that was Chan’s treat. It looked more like a weird family reunion to you than what Dahyun thought but you laughed anyway as you adjusted your camera settings.

“Okay, you guys ready?” You asked the group once everyone’s settled down, arms slung over each other and bright smiles ready to be taken for Instagram updates. “One, two—“

At the center of the photo, with a big bouquet of roses and several medals, Chan suddenly shifted in his position under Matthew’s and Younghyun’s arms and asked you, “Wait, wait, wait...Y/N aren’t you joining?”

You shook your head, making everyone erupt in protest. “Ya, then who’s gonna take the photo?”

Minho doesn’t exaggerate it one bit whenever he recalls this that Chan literally bolted out of the group to pull in his nearest teammate to take the photo, quickly tugging you to him afterwards and positioning you right in front of him once the group photos were taken. You ended up with his arms and his bouquet draped over you in all of the photos.

With the college entrance exams fast approaching over a month later, you found yourself juggling your academics, cram school, Volleyball training, student council, and the school paper all at once. It was manageable at times, with the help of your teammates and clubmates, but of course there would be days when you would almost fall asleep on the spot at Saturday cram school, in particular.

Chan was no better as he balanced academics and cram school with his own swim training, the school radio, and preparing a portfolio for his talent exams at the Departments of Music for every university he applied to.

Fortunately, you both went to the same cram school with everyone else. Seated next to each other, you bought Chan coffee while he passed you candies and chocolate he would get from his mom through the mail.

“You, uh...” Chan nudged your knuckles with his softly one time, alternating his gaze between your open notes and the formulas being discussed on the white board two rows ahead. “The answer’s 2.”

“Hm?” You hummed tiredly, free hand supporting your cheek as you tried so hard to pay attention and follow along. The day prior was meetings upon meetings that lasted until 8:30 PM, pushing all of your time allotted for homework to midnight since you had to take the bus home. To say you were so tempted to fall asleep then was an understatement.

Knowing this, you saw Chan take the liberty of writing the correct answer on your notes through your half-lidded eyes, poking your knuckles with the end of his mechanical pencil after. “You have the whole solution down but the final answer is 2, silly.” He chuckled softly, discreetly passing you another gummy bear from under the table. “Do you even know what you’ve been writing?”

You nodded even though your brain was barely processing anything, receiving the gummy bear after. “I think so?” You mused out loud, making him laugh.

“We’ll just have to go through this again later. You should’ve stayed at home and rested if you’re so tired.”

You found out later, when you were much awake to have lunch at a nearby cafe with Chan, that the boy took down the notes for you in a fashion similar to your note-taking technique for you to copy—and that he drew a small dinosaur on the margins of your notebook with a text bubble that said, “You can do it!”

Chan has made it a habit to bring you an extra thermos of coffee and drew little animals on your notebook whenever the two of you were bored ever since.

You showed up at Chan’s doorstep on his first Christmas Day in Korea, not really expecting to see his mom with his aunt on the other side of the door.

“Hi.” Chan mustered up a rather confused smile, growing even bigger and less shy right in front of you the longer he gazed at your own wide eyes and long travel coat. “Y/N, hi.”

“I thought you were—“ You unconsciously gestured to his extended family running around the hallways behind him, furrowing your brows. “Hi, um, should I just—should I just go?”

Chan furrowed his brows, instinctively pulling you closer to the doorway by your arm once he noticed the snow falling harder behind you. “What? Why?” He asked at the sudden proximity. “What’s up?”

His unintentionally blunt tone with the question definitely had you caught off-guard and flustered. “O-Oh, I just thought—I thought you wouldn’t be with your parents and siblings for Christmas so I came over.” You cringed internally at your truthful but rather cheesy answer. “Everyone’s skating at the mall today and I thought of inviting you because I assumed that you’d be lonely here with just your uncle and auntie...”

Another smile, an amused one, settled on his lips as you talked. “Really?” He mused out loud to which you nodded absentmindedly at. “We could go right now, if you want. My mom would probably tell me to bring Hannah and Lucas along, though, if that’s okay.”

Your eyes widened for the second time that afternoon. “W-We can, yeah.” You nodded slowly to both questions, breaking into your own smile.

“Okay, come on in first, then, it’s cold out.” Chan then took you by the same hand inside, closing the door behind him and leading you to the shoe rack for your boots. “My mom’s been looking for you and everyone else since they landed here too! You should be able to stop her from fussing over dinner so much.”

You met Chan’s parents and siblings that day, almost getting stuck in his aunt and uncle’s house because of his mom’s excitement at meeting one of her son’s friends in Korea until Chan smoothly brought up your offer of going to the skating rink with his siblings. You eventually left the house with him and his younger siblings right before Minho could text you that you were taking too long.

“You do know how to skate, right, Chan?” Minho asked when you arrived. He sat between you and the boy in question to rest his feet from racing with Dahyun, removing his skates and stretching his legs forward. “Y/N and Jihyo suck at explaining things she’s already good at and Bam Bam’s a deer walking for the first time so the choices for teacher aren’t really looking so well for you right now.”

When you looked over at him from Minho’s shoulder, he simply shrugged. “Shouldn’t be that hard. It’s just ice and blades, right?”

But it ended up being very much so, at least for him as he ended up reaching for yours and Jihyo’s hands before you could even run off to join Minho and Dahyun on their race. “Okay, okay, I was wrong!” He exclaimed dramatically, gloved hand meeting your own when Jihyo jokingly moved her hand away. “I’m going to fall over!”

“You’re doing fine.” You rolled your eyes in feigned exasperation, holding his hand anyway as you slowed your pace. His siblings then passed by the two of you, giggling over their eldest brother tripping on ice. "Look, even your siblings are doing fine and you came from the same place as those two.”

“Chan, you’re being dramatic.” Jihyo added to tease him further, gracefully sliding away from the two of you. “‘It’s just ice and blades, right?’ You’ll get used to it!”

Then, as if for unintentional emphasis, Chan almost tripped at this and instinctively held your hand tighter. “I really am going to fall if I let go.” He pouted, linking your arms together instead. “Can’t you really teach me?”

You unlink your arms, catching his hand again. “Fine, I’ll try but don’t cling to me too much.” You pointed out, laughing when he interlocks your fingers together. “You swim in deep ass Olympic pools back and forth like it’s nothing, ice shouldn’t be that scary to you, you know.”

With that, you spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Chan how to balance himself on his skates (and getting him out of Minho and Dahyun’s way as the two circled the rink like two roller derby players). He perfected his balance at the end of the day but he still wouldn’t let go of your hand so naturally, you came back next year.

And next year eventually turned into an annual tradition between the two of you.

The exam results then came in the middle of your final Volleyball game which was probably not good for your adrenaline levels but everyone found it amusing.

Your team was leading in the final set, 23-22, and you could tell as you delivered volley after volley that your opponent was already losing hope. On the sidelines of the open gymnasium, Bam Bam and Minho held up the ugliest orange cartolina ever with ‘HAIKYUU THAT SHIT Y/N!’ in mismatched marker colors while Jihyo, Dahyun, Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan screamed their lungs out for your team.

You’re quite certain the cartolina got confiscated by your coach after for inappropriate language, you’re not quite sure even at present because you never saw it again, especially when it was dropped to the ground the moment everyone’s phones started ringing because of an e-mail from school.

You noticed it from the sidelines, even as you and another teammate delivered the final volley that lead to your victory. Chan held your phone with a bright smile on his face, directing it to you after as you and your team huddled for a group hug and greeted the opposite team for the last time.

“Congratulations!” He greeted you as soon as you’ve celebrated enough with your teammates, waving your phone in front of you as he approached with everyone jumping not far behind him. “On both!”

“Both what?”

Before Chan could even answer you properly, you were engulfed in a big hug by Jihyo, Seungkwan, and Dahyun. “You did it!” They exclaimed in unison. “You passed all of the uni’s you applied to! We all did!”

Immediately, your widened eyes and agape mouth sought Chan for confirmation, to which he simply nodded with a laugh and a thumbs up. “No way...” You muttered in disbelief, gaining feeling back in your frozen legs after to jump along with everyone in your group hug. “No shit, no way! Congratulations, guys!”

“Congrats to you too, dude! You won twice today!” Jihyo pointed out, making everyone laugh. “We’re still on for BBQ, right?”

“Well, I can’t be the only one paying now since we all passed the exam!”

You got hugs from the others as well (and an extra one with a high-five from Seungkwan because he was just so hyped about your volleyball game), receiving from Chan last since he wanted a photo with you after.

“We could do a group photo, you know.” You tried suggesting as you held your Finals tournament trophy in between the two of you. Hansol has both of your phones side by side in front of him, adjusting the settings a little before taking the photo.

“We could but that’s for later. I need a new contact photo for you!” Chan insisted. Before you could comment on his ridiculous excuse, however, Hansol was already taking photos of the two of you.

Chan did set a photo of you from that day as your contact photo—specifically the one where you were pretending to dump invisible water from the trophy over him. It’s ridiculous and it still makes everyone laugh whenever Chan’s phone lights up with this photo.

Graduation celebrations naturally came after, as soon as Spring Break was over. Bam Bam threw a house party for your batch that was anything but sober and civil, the clubs each had send-off parties, and the student council planned a Graduation Ball which was mostly just yours, Jihyo’s, and Seungkwan’s excuse to dress semi-fancy and have Chan invite Younghyun to invite his band, Day6, to perform a whole set of their new songs.

You came with your friend group, or at least you and Jihyo convinced yourselves that you did since no one bothered to look for dates. It had been your finals before the Saturday of the graduation ball and, on top of that, the two of you were busy ‘student council-ing’ as Minho worded it, organizing the event with the school faculty and a few parents.

You did dance with everyone by the end of the night too, Minho pulling you along by the hand in a group hug as you yelled out the lyrics to Days Gone By—one of the last songs of the evening. “Finally you can join us!” He exclaimed dramatically, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he slung an arm over your shoulder. He didn’t actually need to worry about spending time with you since you’re all staying in the hotel for the night anyway. “Loosen up, will you?!”

On your other side, you could only hear Chan laugh as Bam Bam proceeded into the center of your big circle to dance, challenging an unexpecting Yugyeom nearby after. He stole glances over to you occasionally, a fond smile on his lips whenever you’d catch him in the act. He actually wanted to ask you to dance but decided against it last minute, growing too shy at noticing that the crowds are mostly dancing in friend groups rather than pairs until it was ultimately time to retreat into your hotel rooms.

“Goodnight and happy graduation, Seoul High!”

Fortunately, however, Chan made up for this by waiting on you after the dance. You stayed behind with Jihyo and Seungkwan for an hour more once the students have either gone back to their hotel rooms or migrated to the hotel lobby to wait for their rides home; Chan was more than happy to lend an extra helping hand as you thanked the staff and made sure that the packing up was done orderly.

“You did well tonight,” He complimented you sheepishly as the two of you carefully packed up the stage’s sound equipment. The microphone he was trying to remove from the stands was still on then, making his voice echo faintly through the hall. “organizing the event and all.”

Your face heated up against the now softer stage lights as you moved the guitar and music stands from the center to the side where a staff member was waiting for you. “T-Thanks, Chan. Did you have fun?”

He simply nodded this time with a sheepish giggle, passing you the microphones after making sure they were properly turned off.

After this, Chan politely walked you and Jihyo back to your shared room with Dahyun just two floors above the one all the boys in your class reserved for themselves

“Night, Chan! Make sure you’re not being too loud with the boys downstairs, okay?” Jihyo bid him goodbye quickly with a small yawn and a mischievous smile as she opened the heavy door to your room with ease. “I’m pretty sure Bam brought that wireless microphone with him again—and it’s probably Mingyu or Seokmin’s idea again.”

“Don’t worry we won’t, I’ll make sure.” Chan nodded sheepishly before waving goodbye to her. Once she’s inside, he then turned to you and said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You nodded slowly at him, a little hesitant. When he raised his eyebrows at this, you then suggested, “Um...I know this is sudden and it’s like 1 AM but you don’t happen to be in the mood for McDonald’s, right?”

“Seriously? At this time?”

“I’ll buy you an iced coffee if you want.”

So you ended up at the McDonald’s two blocks from the hotel where your graduation ball was held, wrinkled dress suits and all. You talked for what seemed like an hour more, played with the Powerpuff Girls happy meal toy he bought on a whim, and got scolded through calls and text from your friends because you didn’t invite them. Since this day, the two of you have been buying each other’s coffee from McDonald’s.

Bam Bam and Minho both moved further West in the city, the latter sharing his uncle’s old apartment with another friend of his, while Jihyo dorms with Mina, another friend of yours from another school, up North. Besides these, no one made a drastic change to move houses or dormitories from the area your parents considered near since everyone else attended universities relatively near. At university, especially on your first year, you, Chan, and Dahyun mostly stuck with each other; just now with the addition of Lisa who ended up attending the same university and Jacob whom Chan befriended in his classes.

Sometime towards the end of your first semester, when Bam Bam and Minho skipped school to crash one of your semi-finals Volleyball game, your now larger group of friends decided that Chan would ‘take one for the team’ and get a driver’s license for all of your travelling needs. He lost against Jacob and Dahyun of all people in the most intense game of rock-paper-scissors you’ve ever seen.

Because of this, for the two weeks leading up to finals week, you ended up risking your life accompanying Chan to practice in his aunt’s old SUV. During this time period, he either took you to and from university as well or from your neighborhood to the bar and grill you started frequenting with him and the rest of your friend group. It’s not that he’s bad at driving, his parking skills were just initially a cause of worry for you whenever he was driving in crowded places.

“Am I close?” Chan asked you on your first day of finals, leaning over your side of the car to check the side mirror. You had your reviewers for your Communications class glued to your face throughout the entire twenty-minute ride but that didn’t stop you from simultaneously being anxious of hitting someone else’s car right in front of your college building. “Can you check?”

You opened the window and briefly peeked your head out, turning to Chan after and almost jumping at how close he’s gotten. “It doesn’t even look like you tried.” You laughed through your immediate flustered expression, making him lean back in frustration as he prepares to move the car again. “How long have we been here? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Chan pouted, keeping a hand on your head rest as he now carefully re-attempts to parallel park. “Just five minutes.” He mumbles, alternating his gaze quickly between the front and back of the car. “So that means you’ve been studying well this entire time.”

“Your driving is already good I could even sleep in, it’s just the parking that’s worrying.” You pointed out teasingly, leaning on his hand to glance back at the situation behind you and poking on his new arm bands. “Speaking of, you do know that you don’t even have to park, right? It’s not like you’re going to wait for me.”

“But I’ll wait for you.” Your eyes met belatedly as Chan finally parks the car. “It’s just 30 minutes, right?”

“It’s two hours, Chan...” You quirked a brow. “Didn’t I text you that?”

“Really? Ah, well...I’ll just...” Chan chuckled sheepishly, clearly realizing his mistake at the last minute. “I can totally just hang around, I guess.”

But the problem was, Dahyun didn’t have class that day, Lisa was organizing a club party, and Jacob was in his own volleyball training. Chan ended up loitering around the swim team for a while and impulsively buying you lunch because he didn’t want to waste gas.

You bought him lunch when he passed his driver’s license in return.

“You probably need glasses now.” You pointed out to him as you happily ate your Burger King inside his car. The nearest branch to the driving school he attended had a relatively big parking lot, making the two of you sigh in relief that he didn’t have to parallel park this time. “I’m pretty sure I texted you that my exam was from 10 to 12.”

Next to you, Chan had his seat reclined and the windows fully open as he sipped on his Cola and munched on fries. “No, I checked it again the other day and you texted 10 to 11.”

“What?!” When you do check your phones, only then do you find out that you did mistakenly text him 10 to 11 instead of 10 to 12. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Should I buy you another burger?”

Chan simply shook his head and snatched the ice cream cup you’ve been saving. “I’ll just take this, thank you!”

“Ya!”

The first time the driver’s license actually came in handy was on your first volleyball game as a university student. Chan went on a round trip around the major universities in Seoul to pick up all of your friends which almost caused you to be late to the game but you could barely care then—you were too pumped over the idea of all of your friends coming together to watch you.

Besides, Chan volunteered to be a courtside reporter for the game so you weren’t scolded by your coach alone.

“Good luck out there!” Chan nudged your side with a wink as the two of you prepared to enter the arena with your team. He made sure that he had his microphone off twice this time. “I’d really love to interview you when you win.”

“When have I ever lost in front of you, hm?” You teased with a grin of your own, just as the backstage doors opened to the cheers and drums of your university.

And, true to your word, you win the game a little over an hour and a half later. With a small trophy passed around from your teammates and the promise of a day-off from your coach, Chan was the first of your friends to approach you.

“And here we also have SNU women’s volleyball team newest recruits, Y/N and Chaeyeon!” Chan introduced you and your teammate in front of the cameras. In the distance, you could see your friends then: Jihyo, Dahyun, Mina, and Lisa holding balloons in the color of your university, Bam Bam and Minho holding their usual embarrassing slogan, and Jacob jumping up and down excitedly over your game’s turn-out. “This is your first game and first win of the season, congrats! How does it feel, you two?”

Your eyes met Chaeyeon’s instinctively to your right, making the two of you giggle shyly. After a mini game of passing the microphones between each other, you eventually ended up answering, “Um, we’re very grateful that our first game gave us our first win as new members as well and we hope that we’ll continue doing even better in the semi-finals!”

“Yes! Everyone’s hoping so too, especially after watching your play today!” Chan commented, clearly going off-topic then by the way you noticed how his mini crew of fellow students looked surprise and even checked their own cue cards.

Once the interviews were over, you were then whisked away by Minho and Jacob—the former to catch up with you while the latter was so excited talking to you about your game.

“Dude you were so good out there! Like that serve on the first set that really riled up the opposing team’s captain? And and that over the net move you did with Chaeyeon! We should have a practice game sometime!” Jacob always talked a million times per second over things that excited him but you didn’t mind, at least now Minho had someone to compete with over who could say the weirder thing.

The interaction placed a rather childish pout on Chan throughout the ride to your promised Korean BBQ dinner, no one but Lisa paid it too much mind.

“Stop pouting you look ugly.” She said to the poor boy with a feigned judgmental face, switching seats with you earlier for the ride to dinner so you can discuss volleyball with Jihyo and Jacob. “Why are you even pouting? Something on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Chan only furrowed his brows and frowned, glancing over to you on the rear view mirror to see you laughing along to a video Minho was showing everyone on his phone.

it’s not Minho that bothered him, everyone with eyes and a braincell have always known that he’s in love with his current roommate.

Jacob, though...you play the same sport and are both equally passionate over it! It definitely made Chan think.

“Nothing looks like she’s having fun, huh?” Lisa mumbled under her breath in response after a moment, breaking out into a laugh when Chan finally glances over at her with a confused look. “Nothing!”

Lisa made sure you sat next to Chan after, dragging Minho and Jacob by the ears to the other side of the table.

On your second year, your favorite junior from your previous school finally entered college. Seungmin was also on the student council, school paper, as well as in the high school baseball team who often practiced with your volleyball team so you basically considered him your ‘child,’ much to his annoyance. Though he attended a university that was nearer to Bam Bam’s and Minho’s, you pestered Chan into driving you almost once a month to his dorm to visit, anyway.

Chan would’ve said no every time given his own busy schedule but you promised him every time that Felix, a friend of Seungmin’s who happened to come from Australia as well, and Jeongin, another junior you unofficially ‘adopted’ in high school, would also be there.

“Chan, I need to go to Seungmin’s, it’s an emergency.” You greeted Chan one day right after your afternoon classes. You found him in the library, studying for second semester midterms with Lisa and Jacob which did made you feel bad but you really couldn’t wait for the next bus anymore.

“What kind of emergency?” Lisa asked, prompting you to shake your head.

“The kids said it’s very bad...” You continued shaking your head frantically and that was enough for Chan to pack up his things and lead you outside to his car.

When the two of you arrived at Seungmin and Jeongin’s shared dorm, Chan was more than confused at seeing the former sprawled out on the common area carpet with his arms folded over his chest like a vampire while the latter and Jeongin hovered over him with worried looks and mini fans.

“Is Seungmin dying?” Chan asked you with genuine worry as you approached, which would’ve made you laugh with the choice of words had you not just been vaguely called on short notice to deal with the situation.

You didn’t get to answer him at first as your first instinct was to sit down next to Seungmin and ask Felix, “We came here as fast as we could. What’s wrong?”

In front of you, Seungmin groaned in pain and rolled over on his stomach, hiding his reddening cheeks from you. “Y/N, why are you here?” He whined, bringing his arms up to his head to hide his face further. “Did these two call you?”

“Yeah they did.” You answered firmly, rolling the boy on his back again that prompted more complaints from him. “Now, what’s wrong? School? Sports? Friends? Are you okay?”

It took a moment for Seungmin to remove his arms over his face and answer you and it undeniably made you and Chan nervous. When he did answered, it was what you least expected from him as he said, “Y/N, I think I have a crush...”

A pause then followed as everyone simply stared back at Seungmin who immediately hid in his hoodie once again.

“Oh for the love of God, Kim Seungmin! Are you kidding me right now?! I came all the way here for this?” You smacked him in the arm once you’ve recovered, finally breaking out into laughs as the other boys toppled over in laughter. Turning to Jeongin and Felix, you then asked, “So why did you call me? You could’ve called Minho, he literally lives three blocks away.”

Felix and Jeongin glanced over at each other and shrugged. “He said he’s having love problems,” Jeongin pointed to Seungmin innocently before turning to you. “So I thought of calling you. Aren’t you and Chan a thing?”

This time, it was you and Chan looking at each other and laughing. “No, no, we’re not a thing.” He clarified for you with a dismissive wave. “Y/N’s married in a poly relationship with academics and extracurriculars.”

“And Chan’s secretly a merman so it’s a hard pass.” You finished his thought jokingly, looking over at Seungmin after.

“You guys, I’m still in a situation here!” Seungmin frowned, lifting his head up to place on your lap. “I’m fucked, basically.”

“Well, since we came all the way here and gas is expensive, do you want to talk about it? Lix and I can cook dinner.”

With that (and a few more words to get Seungmin off of the floor), you managed to drag the lovestruck boy into the kitchen and cooked him tonkatsu with Felix and Jeongin on your tail. Chan kept him company the entire time, peering over his shoulder as he narrated the story of a certain figure skater he met at his Freshman welcome assembly. “We’ve been friends for a while and I really like them but they’re always getting into trouble!” Seungmin mostly rambled, making you, Jeongin, and Felix snicker with your backs turned.

“All the more reasons to see them often, then?” You suggested, much to Seungmin’s annoyance.

“Won’t I be too obvious? Or too doting? Maybe they don’t like that as much since they’re so independent. Agh, what do I do?!”

“Play it cool like you always do, kid.” You answered simply, patting his head affectionately as you passed by his spot to retrieve a basket of condiments “What do you think, Chan?”

You clearly caught him off-guard then by the way his eyes slowly widened and he instinctively sat up straight. “O-Oh, u-um—yeah, what you said...” He eventually agreed with a nonchalant shrug to cover up his shaky actions. “Don’t overthink it or else nothing happens.”

You re-joined Jeongin and Felix across the kitchenette with a chuckle, nudging Jeongin with your elbow after. “You kids are growing up! Ah, but it still kinda feels like yesterday when you two were just messing around back in high school.”

“We’re a year below you, what are you talking about?” Jeongin pouted, eyes not leaving the side dishes he was preparing. When you don’t tease him further about it with another side comment, he then adds, “Sorry for assuming you and Chan were dating by the way. That wasn’t weird, right?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No, it’s cool! I’m just curious where you’d get that from.”

“Minho said—“ And that was enough for you to give your aforementioned friend an earful the next time you saw him after.

“So, Chan’s not dating?” Felix asked next to which you nodded at. “Oh, cool!”

“Why? Do you have someone for him?”

Though Felix didn’t say anything more specific after that, Chan was then coerced into a friendly blind date to the movies a week after, you heard it at his new sideline podcast with Changbin and Jisung of all places.

“I—“ Seungmin’s first reaction was to clasp his hands together while the two of you were listening to the podcast episode in YouTube. “I spill out my heart to you guys and over tonkatsu then I find out that this happened right under my nose that night?”

It was a month since his dramatic confession and a little over two weeks since Chan went on the blind date and you’ve been taking the bus with Dahyun to visit the kids ever since. Chan thought he did something wrong but you’ve assured him multiple times that you’re just trying to be considerate of him since he now has an additional person on his plate.

Dahyun also wanted to visit Jihyo and Mina so you decided on commuting with her in particular.

“Ah, well, that’s life—or college...or maybe both.” You shrugged. You often studied in their dorm living room to pass the time if Minho wasn’t up for being bothered with in his apartment—you found out throughout this that studying with a Legal Management major like Seungmin motivates you to go through your rigorous readings. “How’s your crush by the way? Any progress?”

“They want to try speed skating! Do you know how dangerous that is? Not to mention, the legality of it all...”

“This person seems like they get you up on your toes. I like it! Makes things a bit more exciting, don’t you think?”

“It just makes my head hurt.” Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples dramatically for emphasis. “I can’t help but worry...”

“I think you’re sweet looking out for them like this.” You assured. “But it’s not sports if you don’t get hurt and we both know that.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Just look out for them. I’m pretty sure they’re not all that clumsy as you make them out to be—you said they’re an athlete, right?—but it’s still important to be there for support and help when they really need it.” You half-shrugged, not really knowing what else to say. “But not just as someone who has a crush. Be a friend first and foremost—I mean, obviously, since you’re not dating, you’re just friends, hopefully for now. Yeah, that’s it! Don’t overthink it, you’re friends not married!”

A thought then seemed to pass Seungmin as a small smile formed on his lips. He then pulled his knees close to his chest and leaned back on the sofa behind him. “So, is that how you are with Chan?”

“What?!”

“I mean he’s sort of dating right now but don’t you have a crush on him?” The younger boy asked in genuine curiosity. “Honestly, I was surprised that you let him go on that blind date with the Soyeon girl Felix recommended, much less a second date this weekend.”

“No—I mean no, I don’t have a crush on him.” You refused calmly though your voice clearly shook a little but not for the reason Seungmin thought it was. “We’re just friends. You’re going off-topic!”

Seungmin’s eyes lit up in interest. “Well, I thought about it so we’re talking about it now! Have you seriously never thought about it?”

“No, but I am now because you brought it up!” You shook your head back truthfully before smacking his arm with your reviewers, making him pout and wince at you. “Don’t do that! You’re like—you’re trying to brainwash me into having feelings or something!”

Seungmin instinctively held his hands up, filled with his own lecture notes, and shook his head at the accusation. “No I’m not!” He pouted at you to no avail. “I’m just saying that I’ve always thought there was something, with how you two are so close.”

“You and I are close, Minho and I are close,” You argued back with a small pout, crossing your arms. “Heck, Bam Bam and I are close and we grew up together since the 4th grade.”

Again, the boy shook his head stubbornly. “Yeah, we’re all different kinds of close, especially Chan,” He claimed with so much conviction. “You look out for me, Minho, and Bam Bam but Chan looks out for you as much as you do for him, if that makes sense.”

“See you can’t even reason out properly and you’re in Legal Management.” You scoffed playfully. “I look out for everyone the same way, Chan’s not that kind of special for me. Also, it’s basic human decency, Seungmin. I can’t believe you don’t look out for me back, to be honest.”

Though you came off as perfectly unbothered by this, there was a period when things started became awkward on your end and it frustrated you until the end of your second year.

Seungmin teased you to no end for it to make up for your equally endless questions about the person he’s taken interest in, Minho kept bringing it up whenever the two of you met or hung out in his apartment, and Dahyun only confronted you about it when it started becoming inconvenient for her as yours and Chan’s mutual friend.

“Chan keeps texting me if we want a ride to Minho’s but I already told him that we’re on the bus right now.” Dahyun showed you her phone on another one of your many commutes to Minho’s side of the city. By this time, it has been two months and three dates for Chan, with your time spend with said boy having reduced significantly. “Are you guys okay? Have you been talking lately?”

You furrowed your brows and nodded in genuine confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“It feels like he wants to ask me about you but he won’t say it directly.” Dahyun shrugged, leaning back on the seats. “It kinda gives me the impression that you guys fought or something.”

“We didn’t fight.” You assured with a small frown. “Nothing happened, really.”

“Then what is it?”

It took you a moment to answer as your mind instinctively went to the conversation you previously had with Seungmin. “I...you know when someone points something out to you in a different light and then it makes you think of a lot of things?” When you saw Dahyun nod slowly, you then took it as your cue to admit, “It’s something like that, I guess.”

And like you, it also took a moment for Dahyun to answer. “Well, how do you feel about it?” She asked back as a response. “I think I know what this is about but you don’t have to tell me if you’re uneasy telling me about it.”

And you were uneasy and confused, very much so. “I don’t think I’m feeling anything special about it, really.” You admitted in a smaller voice, finding your attention flitting down to your hands on your lap. “I feel like I’m just thinking too much on what that someone said and how they said it.”

“Then it’s probably nothing, easy as that. Don’t let people’s words get into your head too much, especially on things like this—if we are thinking of the same thing—or else it’s gonna feel like you’re being forced into having different feelings or think differently.” Dahyun shrugged with a reassuring smile. “If otherwise, even then don’t overthink it too much. Just let things happen as they are.”

When you didn’t respond immediately, she then took your silence to quickly add, “Anyway, bottom line is, whatever it really is that you’re feeling or thinking, don’t ignore Chan for it. Talk to him about it specifically if it helps just don’t make him feel left out just because you’re on a one-sided awkward situation.”

It was a tough love kind of advice but Dahyun pestered you about it until she saw you approach Chan first over a week later, when you personally asked him to carpool to Bam Bam’s place for a year-end party.

You’ve never seen Chan’s face light up as much as it did on that day at the campus library.

“R-Really?” He stuttered out in disbelief and suddenly, all hints of drowsiness had disappeared on his expression. “I mean, c-cool! Uh, what time should I pick you and Dahyun up?”

“Ah, well, what time should you pick up Soyeon if she’s going to carpool with us?” You asked slowly, rubbing your nape awkwardly as you stood next to his table.

His eyes widened in surprise before an equally awkward chuckle came out of his lips. “Soyeon’s not carpooling with us.”

“Hm?”

“She’s going with her own friends since they’re nearer to her place.” Chan nodded absentmindedly, pulling a chair for you to sit down. You took the place without hesitation, neck heating up in embarrassment over the thought that you seemed too eager. “We’re not actually dating anymore.”

“Oh?” You furrowed your brows as quickly as your expression almost lit up. “I mean, since when, if it’s okay to ask?”

“Since last week. I don’t know, we agreed that it’s really...not happening between us.” Chan shrugged nonchalantly, going back to his lecture notes. “It’s cool, though, we’re studying together next week at the new study hall near Itaewon.”

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding until then. “At least it’s not awkward or anything.”

“What about us?”

You immediately looked up at this, meeting Chan’s somewhat hopeful gaze that had you unexpectedly stammering, “W-what do you mean?”

“Did I do something wrong?” He pursed his lips nervously, voice growing smaller with each other. “It’s just that we haven’t talked a lot lately—or maybe I’m just overthinking it...”

You were quick to shake your head, mustering up a small smile. “No, you didn’t do anything.” You assured him gently. “I’ve just been—it’s nothing.”

“Really?”

You nodded, breathing in another sigh of relief. “Yeah, I just had a lot of things going on then. It’s okay now.”

And it really was okay then. Talking to Chan again assured you at the time that you liked him as a friend. You really really liked him at the time as a friend.

Third year meant preparing for your senior year and going on your Junior Year internship which is probably why Bam Bam scheduled a trip to his hometown in Bangkok in the summer before this. It was just him, you, Chan, Dahyun, Jihyo, and Minho as a kind of mini high school reunion—the small kind of gathering everyone naturally hopes for with the pacing of university life.

You stayed at his family’s house where his parents offered you the entire expanse of the living room to have a movie night and sleepover in on your first night, right before the overwhelming itinerary Bam Bam planned for the next five days.

“Rock-paper-scissors for the beds!” Bam Bam announced after your sixth movie of the night. The Meg really wasn’t that amazing in your collective opinion but that didn’t stop you from putting it at the bottom of your To-Watch list just to throw as much nonsensical comments as you can on it. “The expandable couch goes to first, second, and third; the smaller one goes to fourth, and fifth and sixth get the air bag!”

Unsurprisingly, you and Chan had to share the grey air bag because you simply were just unlucky that night (you accidentally got a Pringles bag that had more air on it than chips prior) and Chan was so sleepy right next to Minho from cramming a passion project with Changbin and Jisung on call. Not that you minded, you were actually glad you didn’t have to put up with Bam Bam kicking you in his sleep or Minho waking you up with his cuss-filled sleep talking.

“Are you okay with this, sharing an air bed, I mean.” Chan had asked you as you prepared to sleep some time at 3 AM. He was hunched over on the side of the mattress that wasn’t pushed to the wall, laptop perched on top of his area as he continued fighting sleep and finishing his project. Everyone else had gone to sleep earlier. “I can totally just ask Bam for a sleeping bag if you want me to.”

“It’s okay.” You assured him as you spread the blanket over the entire expanse of the small air bed before sliding in and taking your phone out from under your pillow. “Aren’t you slidi—tucking in too, though?”

His face lit up in genuine surprise, slowly shifting into appreciation and fondness right in front of you as he caught the concern in your own face despite the phone blocking his view. “In a bit...I’m just making a few adjustments with this.”

Changbin and Jisung erupted into yells on the three-way video call, their voices bursting so suddenly on Chan’s headphones that he immediately muted them before you could ask or even notice.

Fortunately, you didn’t. “Oh, then don’t stay up too late, Chan.” You pointed out in even more concern. You knew how he could get whenever he pulled all-nighters, you realized. “We have to start really early tomorrow—or later.”

He hummed absentmindedly with a small nod as he continued nodding, glancing back up at you again after a moment. “Then you should go to sleep already, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

“Who said I’m waiting up for you? I’m scrolling through my Instagram.” But despite your teasing tone, you still ended up scrolling through your phone until he finished his project, bidding Changbin and Jisung a quick good morning before ending the call and sliding in under his share of the covers.

“Okay now go to sleep.” He chuckled tiredly as he gazed down on you, hand accidentally brushing against your own in the small gap between the two of you as he placed it right next to his head.

“But you’re watching me,” You frowned disapprovingly. “turn around or something.”

“I sleep better like this and what if I closed my eyes and you took pictures even with my back turned?” He feigned a pout, bringing his hand under the pillow as he shifted more comfortably in place. “You sleep first.”

“You’re so childish.” You giggled, shaking your head stubbornly. “I won’t do that.”

“As if you aren’t too right now. You’re probably thinking about it.”

“On three, then? One—”

“Two—“

“Three.” With your cue, the two of you then closed your eyes at the same time, only to peek one each right after. “Ya!”

You eventually managed to fall asleep at the same time half an hour later with Chan reluctantly turning around for you once you had your eyes closed. He’d only see your sleeping expression a little bit later, when he woke up to use the bathroom at 7 AM and came back to check up on you sleeping comfortably and move more of the blanket to your shoulders.

“Look at these eyebags, you could carry souvenirs in them later.” Minho chuckled next to you on the ride to your first trip destination after, laughing even more when you swatted his index finger that moved up in an attempt to poke your eyes. “Nightmare? The Meg wasn’t even about ghosts, Y/N.”

“No, I just slept late.” You sighed, leaning back on your seat. “Chan and I stayed up a little longer.”

At this, Minho’s eyes visibly lit up and he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously at you, prompting a disgusted look on your face. “Ooh, did something spicy finally happen between you two?”

“No—and please never do that again, it’s disgusting!”

“It’s my eyebrows!”

Minho ended up teasing you throughout the whole trip, anyway, as you and Chan repeated almost the exact same routine every night.

You had your Junior Year Internship at a media network across the city and though Chan insisted multiple times that he can drive you to work before going to his own at an entertainment company in the opposite direction, you managed to convince him that you really can commute this time and spend the night at Minho’s if you went overtime. No hard feelings this time.

So with what his presence in your life suddenly lacked in being your everyday transportation, he made up for by spamming you constantly online.

“This place has Tim Tams in their cafeteria!” He’d send you the most random photos and videos of his day-to-day working in song production at the entertainment company, from actual work-related matters like sophisticated equipment he was allowed to use to the small things like the extensive cafeteria food and his boss’ pet Labrador. “What are you having for lunch?”

Being a P.A. at a media network, however, was much more fast-paced and required you to be running everywhere on your work hours. Chan understood, of course (hence the sudden influx of dog photos during a particular period that had you working overtime almost every day), but it still made you feel bad for replying so late because, whether you admitted it or not, his constant updates alleviated your stress.

More often than not, his spams would be responded with photos of you on the subway and video clips of Minho and his roommate who are always practicing cheer dance moves in their living room. “I had three Snickers today but I drank a lot of water so that should count for something!” You often replied, following with a clip of Minho falling on his butt after tiredly trying to land a flip. “This is your Minho update of the day. He’s getting there! I think he’s going to try out for cheer dance captain this year!”

At the end of the semester, Chan was more than happy seeing you again, so much so that he treated you with lunch and even offered you ice cream after. “You’re going to make up for all the full meals you’ve missed this semester!” He insisted as he picked you up from Minho’s place. The two of you ended up at a ramen house which was a far jump from your usual fast food dates—something you thought about the entire time.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” You laughed but you let him order you food anyway since it was free. “Extra nori and eggs, please!”

You exchanged internship stories throughout the entirety of your lunch, laughing along to his stories of falling asleep in the middle of work and hearing his endless teasing over you getting starstruck with assisting your favorite artists on the job. You didn’t actually miss out on a lot of his shenanigans (that’s how heavily he spammed you) but you stayed in the ramen house for more than two hours, unconsciously drifting off to different topics and gossiping about your friends until the slight embarrassment of overstaying creeped in.

“Speaking of friends, I haven’t seen everyone else lately too.” Chan mused on your ride back home. He had his CD he secretly produced over his internship period playing on the radio as well as one hand on the steering while while the other fought you over the air conditioning. “I just know that you and Jacob train for volleyball together on weekends, Lisa’s busy with club duties, Bam Bam’s on an exchange student thing and Jihyo recently introduced us to the person she’s dating now.”

You leaned back in your seat and shrugged, finally giving up on the air conditioning to open the windows instead and admire the Han river on your side of the road. “Well, you know how Minho’s been doing with my updates and I haven’t seen Dahyun in a while too since she’s taking the most classes this semester.” You explained, extending your hand outside to feel the gentle Autumn breeze. Chan, despite being the swimmer between the two of you, thinks you’re crazy for liking the cold better. “As for many many other people I know, they’re either studying really hard or starting work now. Time flies and friends come and go, I guess...”

When you glanced over at him again, you saw his face scrunched up in thought as his hands blindly found the gear stick to slow down at an intersection. Once you reach the red light, he then meets your gaze, uncertainty in his expression that he tried playing off with a shrug. “Yeah but...is it weird if I said I don’t want that to happen with us?”

“N-No?” You found yourself answering before you could fully comprehend the question. Clearing your throat, you tried joking it off, “I think you might’ve taken the ‘I’m class president let me show you around’ thing back in high school, Chan.”

He shrugged, smiling as well at this. “Maybe I did, who knows? I like spending time with you.”

“I force you, you’re my ride around the city.” You teased, hints of sincerity coming through your tone of voice.

“But that’s because I like you, isn’t that what people do with people they like?” He said it with so much nonchalance but you couldn’t help but feel flustered at this, a reaction you immediately hid by laughing.

“You like me too much, it’s going to cause a traffic with all this sentimental stuff,” You pointed out, the cars behind you suddenly honking annoyedly as if on cue. “See? Even the people behind us agree.”

Chan wasn’t offended, however, not one bit as he continued rambling about liking you all the way to your dorm after. It flustered you at first, especially with how casual he was being, but, as you neared the turn to your dorm outside of university, you eventually caught up with teasing him back about it.

When you thought about it on your own once he left, you realized that you somehow liked it. It felt very natural—as if it’s something that’s always felt right hearing from him.

“I like Chan.”

“Yeah no shit.” Minho agrees absentmindedly, Seungmin and Jeongin nodding along while emptying their take-out boxes. You carpooled with Chan today as he drove Felix and Jisung somewhere to help them finish their term research paper. You were only supposed to hang out with Seungmin and Jeongin but Minho decided to ambush the three of you with Jihyo and Mina on their way to join your group at the younger boys’ dorm. “What else is new, Y/N? We haven’t met up like this in a while so I was expecting something spicier!”

“No, I mean—” You roll your eyes at him, smacking him with your rolled up lecture notes but to no avail. The boy simply opened his phone to check his messages, frowning when he then comes across a message from Jihyo and Mina informing him that they’re stuck in traffic. “I really like Chan.”

“Okay, and then?”

“I’m telling you I actually like someone then you dismiss me.”

“And I mean that took you a record-breaking three years to say.” Minho points out, finally closing his phone and propping an elbow up on the table to face you properly. “What has you sharing this to us on this fine Saturday, hm? Did you get jealous over someone again and got so insecure that you realize your feelings? Did you get stuck in a really small space, admired his face a bit then realize that you think he’s cute? Which trope is it?”

You shake your head disapprovingly at him, briefly glaring at Seungmin and Jeongin when the two start snickering next to you before answering, “Nothing, just...we talked lately and I thought that I really like talking to him.”

“So you don’t like talking to us?” It’s Jeongin teasing you this time as he sipped on his juice box, earning him a crumpled ball of paper on the head. “I thought it’d be more grand like in those K-Dramas.”

“You flood your crush with Pepero boxes and now you’re talking big with K-Drama confessions.” Seungmin points out, making the other boy in question roll his eyes.

You open your mouth to speak but Jeongin beats you to it. “Talk to me when you’ve confessed to that figure skater at your university, baseball boy.” He says before turning to you again, placing a hand over Seungmin’s face and dramatically pushing him away by his head. “Anyway, back on topic! So, will you ask him out?”

“I don’t know, should I?” You frown, leaning back on the sofa behind you with your arms crossed. “Wouldn’t it be weird?”

Minho shakes his head. “It’s 2020 so go wild, my friend. Anyway, if it doesn’t work out I already got my driver’s license—though I will tax you since you live far away.”

You roll your eyes, hitting him again. When his roommate passes by, half-asleep and dragging their feet towards the kitchen, you hear them request another smack on Minho’s head on their behalf as if on instinct. “I mean, do you just go for it? What if you don’t feel enough for people for it to work out?”

A pause then follows in the room, even Minho’s roommate momentarily stopped gulping down water from across the open common area. Seungmin and Minho sigh while Jeongin only raises an eyebrow with the same curiosity.

“Yes, Y/N.” Minho answers after a moment, tsking at you as he does so. This time, you gather the energy to smack him for the fourth time as quickly. “It’s dating not marriage, just see what works and what doesn’t.”

Seungmin opens his mouth to say something else, probably to comment on how Minho doesn’t apply the sentiments to his own love life, but he nods in agrement anyway. “I think it’s like you always tell me: don’t overthink it.” He adds instead, briefly turning his head to Minho after. “But I’m going to pretend you didn’t bring it up first, hyung.”

Don’t overthink it. Even Jihyo and Mina agreed when they arrived, pestering you into going over your entire rant and dilemma again once they arrived with beer and convenience store food. Dahyun too, but only a little later when Jihyo puts her on FaceTime.

“Just wing it,” She even added to assure you, glitching a bit on video because public library wi-fi has never been better than that.. “it’s just Chan, what could go wrong?”

And really, with Chan, nothing ever does feels like it’s going to go wrong even when the situation has your heart on the line.

“Chan, give me your hand.” You extend your hand out to his side of the car with your palms facing upwards, chuckling when he glances over to you with wide eyes. “I won’t tickle you this time, promise.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asks as he reluctantly moves his hand from the steering wheel to your hand, alternating his gaze between the road and you on his side in long intervals. “I’ll have you know that we’re about to turn to a narrower road so don’t try anything funny.”

“Like I said, I’ll just hold your hand.” You feign a pout, bringing your hands down on the compartment in between your seats. “There.”

You won’t tell it to his face right now, of course, but holding his hand is comforting to you.

He invited you to a small film festival for today, a thirty-minute ride to a place he only heard of on the poster for it that he showed you at the start of the week. “Bam Bam’s too busy to come with so I thought I’d invite you since you’re free this week!” He explained over the phone and you knew Bam Bam is really busy when it’s you who Chan is inviting to these kinds of everyday. “They have lots of animated movies on the line-up too so I immediately thought of you!”

“Your hands are so small.” Chan comments after a moment, shaking your intertwined fingers gently as the car stops at traffic.

You poke on his knuckles in response. “You just have really big hands.”

“Your hands are clammy too.” He points out next with a laugh. “Are you okay?”

“Because you won’t turn the air conditioning up, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, scoffing when he doesn’t move his hand anyway. “So why don’t you let go?”

“Because I like holding your hand.” He shrugs, biting down a small smile. The traffic still won’t move and he takes this as an opportunity to look at you as much as he can. “I like you a lot—even with your clammy hands.”

“I—” You freeze with your mouth hanging open, finally catching onto his smile. “Ya, what’s with the smile? Did you...did Minho say something?”

“What? No. I can’t smile now?” And it’s the truth, you find out much later when Chan calls Minho for you and puts him on loud speaker to disprove your suspicions. “Why? What am I supposed to not know until now?”

You squint your eyes suspiciously at him, shifting your hands around his but to no avail. “That I—I was going to say it first today. I like you too—a lot.” You sigh in defeat, leaning back on your seat and twisting your body to face him properly. The traffic is slowly starting to move again and Chan briefly turns away to move the car, turning to you as soon as traffic permits him again. “It’s a bit embarrassing to say right now, my hands are so clammy and you’re holding onto them the entire time.”

“It’s not because you’re nervous, right?” He asks with the smallest glint of teasing in his eyes which you shake your head at immediately. “It’s just us.”

“I told you, it’s because the air conditioning’s too low.” You chuckle, finally relaxing your shoulders in relief. Chan then lifts your hands up to the air conditioning unit jokingly, turning up the level with his knuckles. “And it’s exactly why I’m not nervous, because it’s just us.”

“Me too, to be honest. I’d be freaking out right now if Minho or Lisa or just anyone else peered over our shoulders.” You hear him mumble under his breath in a sheepish giggle. A thought then crosses his mind as he glances over to you, the traffic now moving much more smoothly. “So, I can still ask you if this is a date, right? The cinema’s still five minutes away with this traffic.”

You pretend to purse your lips in thought, bringing your hands back down once they’ve dried with the sudden rise in temperature. “Isn’t this too last minute even for you?” You tease, making him frown. “Ah, well, better late than never I guess.”

“I’ll make it up to you on the second date, promise.” He assures you, turning right to your destination. “Jus don’t back out on this being a date now, okay?”

“Of course not.”

“So boring.” It’s Bam Bam teasing you this time, Minho agreeing on the side. The one time he’s actually free to hang out and he sasses you throughout the entire night. “I expected more from you two.”

“It’s...two people dating in college, not a romcom, Bam.” You deadpan before taking a sip of your soju.

He shrugs from across the table anyway, passing you another bottle. “I guess being in love makes you a little boring. I don’t blame you.”

You slap a hand up to your forehead while Chan is practically drunk and dying next to you in embarrassment. “Oh God...”

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velkynkarma · 4 years ago

Text

Big List of FMA Parental Roy Mustang Fic Recs

Recently a family member of mine has been enjoying Fullmetal Alchemist for the first time. I’ve been revisiting it too for fun. While I was at it, I decided to poke through the fandom, revisit old fic favorites, and see if there were any good new ones.

Turns out: there are!

I was always a big fan of Roy Mustang, and especially fics where he acts as a surrogate parental figure for Ed and Al, accidentally or intentionally. It was hard to find good ones though, so I thought I’d throw together a list of fic recs.

Everything here is platonic, and does not focus on romantic relationships. Fics can be from the 2003 anime, Brotherhood, or the manga.

To the Night Sky by Ranowa

Summary: They tell him he lost his mind. He doesn't remember anything else, so he believes them. But if that's the case, then why does he sometimes feel like he doesn't belong here... and neither does that little, annoying, blond kid named Ed?

Comments: In the author’s words, ‘not a traditional amnesia fic,’ and it sure isn’t. Long, eventful, has a ton of hurt/comfort but also a great background plot that ends up becoming more important the farther you go. This author also has a few other great FMA fics that are worth checking out, but this one stuck out to me the most.

War Heroes by Akarii

Summary: Drawn by rumors of a Philosopher's Stone, Edward travels to North City along with Roy and the soldiers of Eastern Command who plan to compete in the North vs. East Training Exercises. However, Ed and Roy find their lives at risk when they get captured by a rebellion group who aim for the end of all State Alchemists and the entire Amestrian government.

Comments: Great adventure fic with some good hurt/comfort, but also plenty of Roy and Ed both kicking ass and taking names. This author also has some other FMA fics that are definitely worth checking out as well, but this was again the stand-out for me.

Number Twenty Eight by Sevlow

Summary: As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days.

Comments: An oldie but still a goodie. Ed goes missing, and when he’s found again, he’s a Nina-esque dog chimera in bad shape. With Al on the other side of the country chasing down another lead on his missing brother, it’s up to Roy to try and fix Ed, and take care of him in the interim. Chimera!fic was a dime a dozen back in the days of the 2003 anime fandom, but this was one of the ones that delivered on the premise. Years later, it still holds up and remains a personal favorite, with plenty of hurt/comfort and dark humor moments. Sevlow has a lot of other Roy-centric fics that are equally good, though not necessarily parental!Roy.

Warning: Parts of this fic do get super dark, with references to suicide, gore, and implied sexual abuse during Ed’s missing months.

Bookwrm389: This author had some of my favorite FMA fics back in the day. Imagine my shock when I discovered their FF.net account has been completely deleted within the past year. Thankfully, they only orphaned their stories on AO3, so they’re still available. Since it is an orphaned account now, I can’t link to it for people to browse at their leisure, so here’s individual links to all my favorites:

Gold from Lead ~ There were whispers. There was absolutely no way to stop them. Ed would rip out his spleen if he knew what all those people were insinuating about the two of them.

Comments: Ed gets kidnapped by insurgents to be used as ransom against his father. The problem? Thanks to the rumor mill, everyone thinks his father is Colonel Roy Mustang.

Your Son ~ "I'm not your father. It's not fair that you can affect me this much." A military function becomes a nightmare when Ed accidentally takes a poisoned drink meant for Roy.

Comments: Exactly what it says on the tin. Somebody tries to assassinate Roy, and Ed gets caught in the crossfire. Excellent hurt-comfort. Also features Maes Hughes being awesome, and Roy having an existential oh my god am I a dad????? moment.

Tempest ~ Ed is adamant that he doesn't need a father. And it's only when he's about to lose the closest thing he has to one that he understands how very wrong he is.

Comments: Has a solid dose of both action-adventure and hurt/comfort and found family moments. It’s the full package.

Shadow of a Doubt ~ It was meant to be a simple inspection, but a disturbing dream makes Ed uneasy and fearful. His anxiety intensifies when the mission takes a dangerous turn, putting his and Mustang's lives at risk. Can he hold it together long enough to save them both?

Comments: Another nice, long fic with a good combination of action, hurt/comfort, and family moments. One of my favorites.

Likeness ~ One morning mere hours before an inspection, Roy is amazed to receive absolute proof that his young subordinate is growing up.

Comments: A surprisingly adorable fic in which Roy ends up being the one to teach Ed how to shave.

Bonus fics that aren’t specifically parental Roy but do still have some hilarious Roy and Ed interaction:

Military Courtesy ~ Ed learns how to do a proper military salute and promptly drives the Colonel absolutely insane (or not)

Who’s the Alchemist? ~ A Who’s on First parody that goes exactly like how you’d expect but still had me cracking up

Name Calling by Lost_And_Longing

Summary: From the start, Roy Mustang had always believed in Edward Elric. Even after he'd learned the horrific story of their attempt at human transmutation, Mustang had just looked at Ed and offered him a chance. He'd come when Ed was despondent, weak, and helpless...and offered him a way out. Maybe that was why, out of all the men Ed knew, Roy was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

Comments: A 5+1 based on all the different names and titles Ed uses for Roy. Has a nice dollop of humor, hurt/comfort, and parental moments.

Of Hospitals and Health by ReminiscentRevelry

Summary: Al is still recovering after the Promised Day, so Colonel Mustang pays him a visit.

Comments: Post-series (although not by much). A nice fic where Al actually gets a little moment with Mustang. Most parental Roy fics are with Ed, so this was a nice change of pace as well as as sweet little fic in which Roy shows he cares about both of the Elrics, even if only one is technically his subordinate.

Twelve Cups of Coffee by BeyondtheClouds777

Summary: Roy finds a sleep-deprived Edward in his office.

Comments: Just a cute little one shot in which a freshly appointed State Alchemist Edward Elric overworks himself trying to find the solutions to his and Al’s problem, and Roy makes sure he knows not to push himself too hard.

Point of Exhaustion by Took-Baggins

Summary: Roy never thought he'd be the one to be there when Edward finally pushed himself too far, but when the Fullmetal Alchemist suddenly collapses there's no one else to hold him down until he can stand again.

Comments: Another fic in which Teenagers Are Just Bad At Knowing How To Take Care Of Themselves, so the adults step in to make sure they do. Ed’s not eating or sleeping properly when he’s so obsessed with getting Al’s body back and makes himself sick. Features both a parental Roy and a parental Hawkeye, because both of them are fed up with the smallest youngest member of their team not properly taking care of himself and are not gonna let that stand.

When the Rain Falls by Marcellebelle

Summary: Colonel Roy Mustang has two problems: Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Comments: Still a WIP, but the first two chapters are definitely promising. A sickly Ed calls Roy asking for help when his brother is kidnapped, and now Roy has to find one and make sure the other is taken care of. Really looking forward to seeing where this one goes.

As always, if you take the time to check any of these out, try to leave a comment or kudos for the writers and their hard work!

#long post #fic rec #Fullmetal Alchemist #Roy Mustang #Edward Elric #Alphonse Elric #Parental Roy is my jam ok #FMA

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mightymorphingayagenda · 4 years ago

Note

cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!

then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here, x

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.

“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.

Humourless.

And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.

“This is the part where you-“

“Shhh.”

A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.

In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.

Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.

She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.

The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.

It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.

Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.

It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.

Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.

Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.

Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.

“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”

Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.

“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.

“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.”

Cue phase two of the plan.

Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.

Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative.

“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.”

“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.”

Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.

He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.

“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.”

Eris said nothing.

“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued. “To do as you’re told.”

She gave him strict instructions. Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me. Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.

“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.”

She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.

Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.

And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle: a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.

She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.

Who’s your daddy, now?

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.

They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.

Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.

“Damn it,” she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway…

“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.

She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…

“Ugh,” she said again, louder. Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time.

Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?”

He meowed again.

Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.

“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.

Cassian’s jacket.

Uhg.

Now she was thinking about him again.

Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.

He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.

She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”.

He purred.

Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath. Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him. The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.

Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.

The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.

Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.

Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.

Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.

Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.

She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.

Not a man. A boy.

A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.

Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.

Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex. Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet. In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.

But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it.

Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.

She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her.

Her screaming.

Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body. What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.

It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.

And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.

It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles. And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.

Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.

And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even. In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.

A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.

Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.

Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues.

No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.

And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.

Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь”

Her mother’s last words.

Ten numbers.

Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door. All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.

Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.

Like a phone number.

No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough. Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.

A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.

“Здравствуйте.”

Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.

Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.

“Who is this?”

Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?

“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-”

The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.

A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.

What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.

Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.

Go down for murder.

Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body. How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.

Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly. Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.

Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers. The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.

“If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”

“You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?”

“Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.”

“Woof,” Nesta had said dryly.

“Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”

“You offering to adopt me?”

“I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.”

Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.

“But you ever want job, you call me.”

Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.

Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.

In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.

She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.

And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice. Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.

Until Feyre had moved to the city.

Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics, selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit. Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.

At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.

Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner.

Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.

Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.

Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.

The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.

Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.

Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring. A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings.

If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain.

It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done. Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.

She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.

That and the fact they were really very good.

Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.

In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly. Sinking deeper into the basin.

A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-

Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.

Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.

“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.

“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.

Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.

“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.”

“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.

“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.

“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”

If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully.

It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.

“You told me to give him a chance.”

“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?”

Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.

Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.

“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on-

“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?”

“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”

“Ever heard of the third date rule?”

“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?”

Feyre sighed.

“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-”

“So why did you send him my way?”

Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.

“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.”

Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked.

Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.

“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.”

It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.

“Well I’ve been smoking.”

“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.”

“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.”

“He only smokes them on special occasions.”

“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?”

“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh so you did hear me?”

“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”

She hung up.

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.

When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.

It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.

Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.

But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.

Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.

Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.

What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client. An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could. Because it was just easier.

Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.

Fuck.

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.

Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot; but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.

Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong.

She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.

A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living!

Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.

But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.

—

Cassian had ignored her calls.

All three.

Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.

Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator. Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.

Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy. She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.

Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.

Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.

It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.

“All work and no play?”

Cassian looked up from his desk.

“I can fix that,” she said.

He’d never looked more handsome.

Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.

He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.

It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.

“What are you doing here?”

Rude.

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.

“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.

“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.”

She turned to find him watching her.

His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.

Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.

“You’re still upset about that?”

“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.”

“Oh really?”

“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.

She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.”

“You don’t have a clue what I want.”

“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly.

The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.

It was all very conflicting.

“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.

“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again. “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.”

The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.

“You’re right,” she said.

Cassian blinked.

Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.”

The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.

Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike. “Your emergency, of course. Which was?”

“Nothing to do with you.”

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.

“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.

But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.

“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.

“Shit.”

His head fell into those large hands.

“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up. So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.

“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.

“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.”

“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.

Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.

Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.

“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?”

She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.”

“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.”

Nesta slid of the desk.

“Go on,” she instructed.

“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.”

Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.

“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.

“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.

“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.

“I can tell.”

She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”

Cassian swallowed.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?”

“If you say please.”

“Please don’t screw around with me.”

Nesta faltered.

Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.

“I’m really into you,” he admitted. “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.”

The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.

“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”

She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.

Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.

Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.

“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion. “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.”

She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.

“Nesta-“

“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.”

“Someone could come back-“

“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.”

His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.

“Nesta-”

She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders.

“I want you,” she purred again.

He might have tried to breath. And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.

“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.”

His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.

“You want me,” he breathed.

She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.

The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously.

“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.

“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.

“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.

His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.

“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.”

“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.

She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter.

“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…”

“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.

“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.”

“And I’m saying you could be in me.”

She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.

The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over. The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.

“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.”

“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.

“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout.

“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.

The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.

Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.

“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.

“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.”

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.

Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.

“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.”

Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze, wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.

The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair.

“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.

And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.

“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.”

“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.

His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.

“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.

The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.

“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.

“More,” she demanded.

It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.

She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him. Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.

“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.

He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.

“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.

“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.

“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.”

“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”

His words sent her over the edge.

Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.

Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.

Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders. Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.

Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.

“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.

“Then get on your knees.”

Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.

“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.

“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again. “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”

His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.

Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.

Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.

“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.

“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.

He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.

In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.

Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.

She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.

“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.

Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.

The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.

Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.

Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.

“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.

His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.

His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.

“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.

“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.

“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.

Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.

“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.

She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.

Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.

He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.

She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.

“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.

He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.

Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.

“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.

Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.

“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.

“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.”

“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.

Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.

“Down boy,” she purred.

“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.

“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.

“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.

And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.

Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.

“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly.

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.”

Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.

“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.

She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.

“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.”

“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby”

Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.

“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.

She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.

Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth. Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.

“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.”

Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew. His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.

“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.

“Cassian,” she keened.

She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.

Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.

Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.

He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.

And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.

“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.

“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.

“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.

Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.

“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”

Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles. Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.

“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips.

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.

“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Cassian.”

“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there. “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Nesta smiled.

“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.”

Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.

She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.

“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.

His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.

It was so good.

Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him. And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl. Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.

His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.

“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,” She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.

“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit.

Nesta whined softly.

“Cassian…more…”

She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.

“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.”

She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.

“Oh!”

“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.”

His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.

“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.”

Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.

“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”

Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.

She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.

Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.

“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.

“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.”

She turned her gaze to him.

“Shame.”

He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.

Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.

“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.

Cassian grinned.

“You like Italian?”

Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.

“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.

Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”

“Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”

“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.”

Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.

“Lethal,” he whispered.

Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”

Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.

“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.

“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair.

Their second date had been incredible.

He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.

Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.

If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.

Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.

Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.

Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.

Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.

Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.

The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.

The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child.

Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.

Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.

Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.

But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.

Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.

As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.

Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.

Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.

“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”

Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.

She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?”

Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.

“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying. Which off course only made him like her more.

“What? Make you blush like a-”

“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them- like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?”

Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”

“Says the military man.”

“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.”

Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.

“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.

“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.

“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.

“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”

“That was so a line!”

“You’d know if I was giving you a line.”

“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.

“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive. “Because I’d love to take your top off.”

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.

“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”

“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.

“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.

“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.”

“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.

“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.

“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.

“What would you rather we talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.

Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.

Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute. It reminded you that you were alive.

The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.

So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.

The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore. Tame Impala playing from his pocket.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.

“Well you’re the only one getting it.”

She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.

“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.”

“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.

“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.

Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.

Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.

“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly, hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.

Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.

They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.”

“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.

“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.

She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.

“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.

“Yes please.”

Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower-

Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.

She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.

Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.

“What are you doing?”

“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did. Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.

“Congratulations.”

Cassian grinned.

“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”

“Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.

Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.

“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.

“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.

“Please do.”

She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.

“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.”

He pulled back abruptly.

But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?”

For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.

“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.”

“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-”

“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.

“But I-”

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.

He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.

“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.”

“More romantic than that sentence?”

“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.”

“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.”

“How have you already failed?”

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.”

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.

“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.”

“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.

They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf.

“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.

“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.

“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.

“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.

“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.

Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.

Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.

Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.

The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.

“Did you decline my call?”

“Yup.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.

“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.

“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”

“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.”

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.

“That why you’re calling?”

“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?”

“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m free.”

He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday.

“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.

“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-”

“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?”

Shit.

In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.

While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.

Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait. In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.

Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.

“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-”

“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.”

“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.

“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.

“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-”

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.

“Fine, your stropping-”

“Fuck off.”

Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.

“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.”

Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.

“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.

“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.”

“Hang on a minute-”

“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.

“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.

“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.”

“Alright, alright Don.”

“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.

“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.”

“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?”

Cassian sighed heavily.

“This a secure line?”

“Always”.

“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.”

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.

“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?”

“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”

“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.”

“Lucien?”

“Turns out the kid’s his.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.”

Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.

“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?”

Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.”

“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-”

“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.”

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.

Rhys went silent again.

“We could always just kill Eris.”

Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.

“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.

“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-”

“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.”

“Dick.”

“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.

“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-”

“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.”

“I’m fucking Persian!”

“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.

“A fanabla!”

“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.”

“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.”

“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-”

“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.”

“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?”

“If I said yes would you come back to us?”

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.”

“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.”

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.”

“Nesta’s no Feyre.”

Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

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