#but marie and i watched this match the other day and we were both taken by how.

[likesummerrainn]

NJPW STRONG Independence Day | 07.04.23

[barcaatthemoon]

party girl ii || lionesses x reader ||

You celebrate winning the Euros with your national team.

18+

The atmosphere of the Euros had been tense. Everybody wanted it so badly, and after the finals win, all of that tension had to go somewhere. Time with families was fun, as was the partying, but as you found yourself being led up to Mary's room, you knew that it was going to be a long night.

The elevator was empty aside from Mary, Millie, Lucy, and yourself. Lucy had taken one of Mary's keycards at the club, as had Leah. You weren't sure when your skipper would show up, but you knew that she'd be there. Lucy was fiddling with the card absentmindedly as she watched Mary and Millie try and shove each other away from you in between kisses.

You were beyond lucky that the hotel had been completely booked by the team. With the amount that you had been been partying after the game, you weren't sure whether or not anybody would have been able to really be quiet. Nights like these were your favorite, the ones where everybody was riding the adrenaline high of a good win. Nobody was as nervous with each other as you were on different nights.

"Come on now, we can't keep them waiting," Lucy said as she reached past both Mary and Millie to grab you. You stumbled along with Lucy, tucking yourself beneath her arm. Every couple of steps, you managed to coax her into turning and giving you a kiss, much to Mary and Millie's dismay. You could hear them grumbling to themselves, complaining about Lucy just plucking you away from them.

Lucy held onto you as she unlocked the door to Mary's hotel room. You stumbled your way through, partially being pushed forward by Millie and Mary. Lucy rolled her eyes as she placed the do-not-disturb sign on the handle and closed it. You turned to say something to Mary and Millie, but quickly shut your mouth at the feeling of very familiar hands squeezing your waist.

"Miss me?" Leah was smiling at you like a cat that was about to eat the canary. "Close your eyes, there's a surprise for you."

"Come on now, there's no time for that," Millie huffed as she just turned you around herself. Your eyes immediately fell to Keira, but you knew that couldn't be your surprise. Your surprise became much clearer when your eyes settled on Alessia perched on the edge of the bed in a very strikingly red lingerie set.

"Oh," you muttered. Leah pulled you away from everybody else and sat you down on the bed. Alessia nervously looked at you, and you didn't think that you had ever seen the woman look so shy before. "So, how did they rope you into this one, Less?"

"I, uhm, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They were talking about it a few days ago at breakfast, and well, it sort of seemed too good to be true," Alessia said. She was mumbling quite a bit, but you still could hear her pretty clearly. You remembered your first time sitting in her place. It was more than a bit nerve inducing, but it awakened something in you that ultimately brought you much closer to your teammates.

"Oh please, don't play coy, Less. She was being quite a pest trying to get herself an invite. I figured that all of us here tonight would be a lot after the match for you, so we worked something out. All she asked was that she get a little piece of you first," Leah said. Alessia blushed deeply, but made no attempt to argue against Leah's words.

"They can be a lot," you warned her. Alessia didn't seem phased by that at all, only nodding as she shifted to face you. Immediately, you were distracted by her chest, which was on prominent display in the lace bra. "Just don't go to Leah first, she's terrible at being gentle."

"Noted," Alessia giggled. You reached up and cupped her face, somewhat shocked by the way that she lurched forward to close the distance. Alessia was a gentle kisser, even with all of her enthusiasm. You let her push you back against the mattress until both of you were laying back.

Alessia broke the kiss as her fingers fumbled with the button of your jean shorts. You nudged her neck to the side, trying to get at every bit of skin that you could. Alessia's body was extremely sensitive, and you craved to coax every reaction out of her that you could. Most of the other girls didn't give you the time to be like with them, always wanting to see the various ways that they could push your body towards its limits.

"Get off her for a moment. Let her undress," Keira said gently. Alessia pouted as she sat back again. You stood from the bed and kicked off your pants as Leah came in behind you and tugged your shirt and bra off in one go. Alessia's eyes lit up at that, causing some of the other girls to chuckle at her reaction.

"Be nice," Lucy scolded. You cupped Alessia's jaw as you pulled her forward just enough for her face to be buried in between your breasts. You had never really seen yourself as particularly well endowed, but you had a bit more on your chest than a lot of the girls that you played with.

"Less, you should bite a little here-," Leah dragged her finger along the underside of your breast, "-drives her wild. Doesn't it (Y/n)?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but the mix of Leah tweaking your nipples as Alessia bit down stopped the words completely. You fell forward a little, but Alessia gracefully caught you and let you sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you there while she continued to kiss and nip at your breasts and nipples.

Behind you, there sounded like quite a bit was going on. You could definitely hear Keira and Lucy making out. You turned your head just enough to see Mary and Millie on the couch. Both women were practically naked as Millie ground herself against Mary's fingers, the goalkeeper whispering something that only seemed to make the defender work even harder.

"Hey now, you don't want to make Less jealous, do you? I think you should give her something to pay attention to Less," Leah said. Alessia looked at Leah for what seemed like approval, and once the older blonde had nodded, Alessia was moving from beneath you. "Don't worry, she'll be back. I can keep you occupied in the meantime."

You sat on the edge of the bed facing Leah with your legs spread. Leah kneeled in front of you and began to pull your underwear down your legs. Your eyes flicked between Leah and the two couples on the couch. Mary seemed to be on the verge of making Millie cum as Lucy was only just taking Keira's clothes off. You thought about how it was going to feel having everybody together. You knew that you'd be absolutely stuffed, as would Alessia, but it was more than worth it.

"Mary's gonna take your ass later. It's all she's been talking about during drills," Leah told you. Your stomach clenched at the thought of Mary fucking your ass from behind. The woman herself had mentioned it to you at the last City-United game, but since City had pulled out with the win, you had gotten to pick your activities for the night.

"Is she fighting Lucy for it?" you asked teasingly. Leah let out a small chuckle at the two women arguing over you. Lucy had a tendency to be a bit possessive over you in that way, despite you very clearly not being hers. She had Keira, they were off to Barcelona together without you. No matter how many times you found yourself in their bed, that didn't change your position as their friend.

"Apparently, they don't have to." You knew that you were definitely in for a busy night as you looked at the couch. Leah placed her hands around your waist to hold you steady as she dipped her head between your thighs. Immediately, your hands practically flew down to hold her head, directing her mouth and tongue to move against your cunt as you began to grind against her a little.

Alessia stepped out of the bathroom to see you riding Leah's face. For a brief moment, you glanced past Leah and made eye contact with Alessia before your head fell back as you moaned in pleasure. Leah tried pulling you closer, despite the fact that both of you knew that was practically impossible. There was a lot going on in the room, but all that Alessia cared about was getting herself over to you.

"It's not your turn yet." Alessia pouted. Leah smirked as she leaned back and stood up.

"Don't worry, I was just getting her ready for you. No need to get bratty." Leah grabbed onto the back of Alessia's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Alessia's knees crumpled a little, and you wondered how close the two of them had been getting together. You felt a twinge of jealousy, but only for a second. Alessia pushed Leah back to focus on you, eager to get things started. "I'll remember this Less."

"Yeah, I'm sure that you will," Alessia muttered as she helped you move further back onto the bed. Alessia sat on her knees in front of you now, hand absentmindedly stroking lube along the length of the fake cock jutting out from between her legs. It was very much a move that she had picked up from Leah, who learned it from one of the older players.

You weren't completely sure who had done it first, but it always amused you a little. It was rare that you got to wear the strap, but on the occasions that you had, you had never seen the point of acting like it was the real thing. Although, you had never really gotten as much power wearing it as everybody else seemed to. Even with it on, it felt like you were the one getting fucked instead of doing the fucking.

"I haven't, um, done this much before. Only once or twice maybe…" Alessia trailed off nervously. You were gentle in bringing her in towards you. It felt like a very private and intimate moment, despite all of the other people in the room. Leah seemed to be the only one of them watching, but even she knew to turn away as you guided Alessia inside of you. You could see her moving over towards Keira and Lucy from the corner of your eye.

You could see the whole couch devolve into a mass of writhing bodies. Mary and Millie appeared to have switched spots, with Mary riding Millie's fingers wildly. Lucy was teasing Keira, but now with a bit of help from Leah. Even with all of that going on, you didn't want to truly tear your attention away from Alessia.

It became very clear the conversation that surrounded this as Alessia tentatively began to thrust in and out of you. She was being overly cautious, something that many of the girls did whenever they joined for the first time. You didn't mind it, even if you did want to see Alessia let loose and give it everything that she had. There wasn't a doubt in your mind about the power that Alessia's thighs secrectly held.

"Harder," you whined. Alessia swallowed nervously as she gave you a slightly harder thrust. You didn't want to be mean, but you kept egging her on to give more and more until you started to feel a bit more satisfied. Alessia wasn't on the same level as Lucy or Leah, but you could feel the potential for it.

"A-are you sure about this? I feel like I'm going to hurt you," Alessia asked nervously. You nodded as you pulled her towards you. Your lips met in a clash that vaguely resembled a kiss. Both of you broke it with bruised lips, but it seemed to do the trick as Alessia pulled away with a wild look in her eyes. "I need to move a bit. I want to try something."

You let Alessia reposition herself to make it easier for her to fuck you into the mattress. Each of her thrusts was punctuated by the knocking of Mary's headboard against the wall. You could feel everybody's eyes on you as Alessia continued to thrust until both of you were cumming. You could have let her continue thrusting into you, but Alessia rolled off you panting instead. You weren't left wanting or waiting for long.

"On your stomach for me. Come on, don't leave me waiting." Lucy stood and hovered over the bed as Leah and Keira joined you and Alessia. You watched as Leah removed Alessia's strap-on and handed it over to Keira, who dutifully put it on the blonde.

Caught up in watching Leah and Keira, you hadn't moved quick enough for Lucy's liking. Her hands gripped your side as she turned you over herself. You glanced back at her briefly, but didn't pay her much mind until she started to actually touch you. She was strapped up, but you knew what was coming before that.

It would have been her or Mary coming over for your ass while everybody else was busy with something else. Alessia was recovering, Mary and Millie were still engrossed in each other, and Leah and Keira were starting their little game. You were ready and waiting for somebody else, and Lucy loved being the first one to have your ass. She preferred to be the only one but had gotten better at sharing you over the years, especially with Mary.

"Fuck, they did a number on you, didn't they? You're absolutely fucking soaked," Lucy commented as she spread your legs. Her fingers began to play with your cunt, doing little more than just spreading your wetness around even more. Lucy was making a complete mess of you, and once you heard the lube open, you knew that it was about to get even messier.

Lucy squirted a healthy amount into the palm of her hand. She rubbed it in a little and waited for it to warm up before she even thought about touching you with it. You wiggled your hips a little in an attempt to push back against her, but Lucy had positioned herself to hold you firmly in place without her hands.

"Come on Luce, please," you whined. You were really starting to feel just how wet you were, and it was uncomfortably so. Lucy bit her lip as she stared down at your ass. The first thing you felt was a sharp slap to each cheek. After that, Lucy seemed to refocus and remembered what she was over there to do.

"Just remember to keep breathing through it all," Lucy told you. She said it almost every single time that the two of you fucked like this. You knew that a lot of what went on could be too much, but it rarely was for you. Still, Lucy wanted to take care of you throughout it all.

She always made sure that you were wet enough. She made sure that you got breaks. She made sure that you got every single orgasm that you deserved. Lucy did all of these things again and again, taking care of you every single step of the way.

The start with Lucy was always a little slow. A single finger easing its way into your ass. Lucy tested your patience a bit with this part, but you were grateful for the lack of physical strain. Lucy built things up slowly, stretching you out until you could take her comfortably. And once you reached that point, she was slow with the way that she fucked you.

You knew that Lucy could fuck like an absolute beast. You had been on the receiving end of that multiple times, but never like this. Lucy treated taking your ass like the most sensual of experiences. She had been open about outright refusing to be rough with you like this. She would let someone else absolutely jackhammer into your cunt while she laid beneath you, but whenever that happened, Lucy stayed almost completely still.

"I think you should show Alessia a little love," Lucy suggested. Directly in front of you was Alessia. She looked a little lost as Leah fucked Keira's face in front of her, the midfielder cleaning up every trace of you that had been left on that dildo.

"Less, baby, come here," you told her. Alessia turned to face you, a slight look of shock on her face as she watched Lucy begin to thrust in and out of you slowly. She crawled across the bed over towards you and spread her legs. You bit your lip as you looked forward to see her visibly wet through the lace thong.

"That's fucking ruined," Lucy mumbled. There was a sense of pride in knowing that you had been a big cause of that. You pulled her underwear off to the side and immediately went in with your tongue to taste her. A quiet moan escaped your lips as you began to lap up every drop of her that you could.

"Does she taste good?" Leah asked as she watched it all. You nodded, not daring to take a break from Alessia to speak. Leah and Lucy shared a look between the two of them. Alessia was moving wildly, like she was on the verge of cumming again when you found yourselves separated.

"No!" Alessia cried out, having been so close to cumming. "Why would you do that?"

"I told you that I'd remember that," Leah told her. You pouted as you watched Alessia get dragged over to Leah's edge of the bed. Leah had her bent over as Millie and Mary made their way over. Mary cupped Alessia's cheeks as she slid her own strap past Alessia's lips. "Don't choke her up, not yet."

"Keira's got something for you," Lucy said as she pulled you up. Keira moved to settle between your legs as you laid on top of Lucy, the older woman thrusting slowly in and out of you. Keira held your legs apart as she lowered herself to grind against you.

"Fuck," Keira swore at the first bit of contact. You let out a loud moan, already fairly incoherent. The sight of Keira grinding against you was really something, as was the sensation of it. Paired with Lucy slowly fucking your ass, and you weren't sure how much longer you'd last.

"Oh my god!" you cried out as you felt somebody enter you. Behind Keira, you could now see Millie's body as the blonde added to the mix. She gave you a few harsh thrusts before pulling out and sliding the dildo in between you and Keira. She started a new rhythm in teasing the two of you before switching between fucking you both.

"It's okay, let go," Lucy whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against her shoulder. You knew that it was only a matter of time before all of it got to you and you came again. Keira seemed to be in a similar place, and it was the added lubricant from her cumming onto your cunt that helped push you over the edge.

"Oh my fucking god," Mary groaned as she watched the two of you. Millie was the one to pull you away as Keira moved to lay in between Lucy's legs. You found yourself laid out on the couch just watching as Millie took the spot on Lucy's face.

You had seen them together before, but you had never seen Alessia getting fucked before. Mary had a fistful of Alessia's hair, thrusting comfortably in and out of the blonde's mouth. You got hte sense that they had done this before, at least once. Behind Alessia was Leah, who was fucking Alessia roughly.

"Do you like that love? You're taking my cock so well," Leah said, punctuating every other word with a thrust of her hips. You could feel the familiar hum of your budding arousal throughout your body. Still, you knew that you needed to take a breather, especially since you were certain that Mary and Leah were keen on having their way with you whenever they were finished with Alessia.

Mary turned and locked eyes with you as she forced Alessia's head against her pelvis. You could hear the blonde begin to choke a little, but Mary still kept her there. Mary's hands were gently caressing Alessia's cheeks, a stark contrast to the rough fucking of her mouth and throat that the goalkeeper was doing. You knew what it was like to be in that position all too well, Mary often showing up to vent her frustrations with the club in a physical manner with you.

"Let up on her mate," Leah said as she leaned over Alessia to swat at Mary. "If you want (Y/n), go over there then. Get her ready for me."

"Goodnight Less," Mary said sweetly. She pulled out completely and leaned down to kiss Alessia gently. The blonde didn't respond at all, only moaning as Leah continued to absolutely rail her into the mattress. Mary made her way over towards you, joining you on the couch casually at first. "Hi, how are you?"

"Small talk, really?" you asked her. Mary shrugged it off, offering you a slightly awkward, but very endearing smile.

"I doubt you give Lucy grief like this when she checks on you," Mary huffed. You sighed and shifted to sit in Mary's lap.

"Shows how much you know. That's my favorite part of the night," you teased. Mary rolled her eyes at you. She had expected a bit of sass. You had a tendency to run your mouth until someone found a way to shut it for you. Mary knew how each of the other girls liked to keep you quiet. She also knew that her preferred method was a bit rough for you at the moment.

"But you'll be a nice, sweet girl for me, won't you?" Mary knew just how to play you. The subtle movements of her hands along the tops of your thighs as she looked up at you through her eyelashes were enough for you to agree to play nice. You let her wipe away the excess mess on your body and give you little sips of water as the two of you watched everybody else on the bed.

Mary's hand snuck between your legs, subtly rubbing against you. Millie was the first one out of Mary's bedroom and back to her own room just across the hall. Lucy and Keira followed her out shortly, but Leah just left Alessia to rest on Mary's bed for a moment. You could see them having a little moment, even if it was a brief one before Leah joined you over on the couch.

"Who do you want in first?" Mary asked as she let her hand move back to your ass. Leah stood in front of you, wiping Alessia's cum off of her strap. You could see the generous bit of lube she was applying to replace it, the same amount as what Mary rubbed along the length of her own toy.

You looked between the two women as you tried to figure out your answer. A quick glance over at Alessia only proved to be useless as the woman was not in any sort of state to help you decide. You knew that both women would be making you cum again by the end of the night, but you just had to figure out how you wanted it to happen.

"I've got a suggestion if you're willing to listen," Mary said as she brushed some of your hair off of your shoulder. She placed a kiss to the newly exposed skin there, catching your attention for a moment. "You've played very nice, and I bet that Leah would love to finish what she had started earlier."

"And what would you be doing while she does that?" you asked. Try as she may, Mary had never been good at being casual with you. You could always hear the eagerness in her voice whenever it came to you. It wasn't a bad thing, if anything, it made you feel a little extra special.

"Fucking you, of course. You can stay just like this, set the pace even," Mary said. You were nodding in agreement with Mary's suggestion before you had even fully thought it out. Mary quickly double checked with you, careful not to push you in any direction with her questioning.

You let her move you around and position you how she wanted as Leah knelt down in front of you. It was almost like how you had been at the beginning of the night, only now, Mary was easing you onto her strap as well. You could feel yourself being filled centimeter by centimeter.

Leah waited until you had bottomed out with Mary to make any sort of move. You were practically shaking already when Leah's lips wrapped around your clit. She knew that her fingers wouldn't feel like much with everything else that had been going on, but Leah was more than happy to just taste you. She moaned a little each time that you leaked out onto her tongue directly.

"Do you hear that babe? Leah can't get enough of the taste of you. I bet that she can't wait to fuck you," Mary said whispered in your ear. She pulled you to rest back against her as both of your hips started to rock in sync. You didn't say anything to Mary, not even as she continued to tell you how good you were being for the two of them. Her words of praise had you practically gushing out on Leah's tongue, the two women working together to tip you over the edge.

"Can you take one more?" Leah asked as she stood up. You nodded as you let Mary pick you up. Your legs were far beyond the point of working, so she helped you onto Leah's lap once the blonde had settled on the couch.

It was far from being perfect positioning, and you were certain that one of the would wind up breaking the couch, but you couldn't have wished for a different ending to your night. Leah had her hands on your hips as she guided you on top of her, helping you to move in between her thrusts.

"Fuck! Leah, that feels so good," you moaned loudly. You were all past the point of being quiet. Leah and Mary wanted to hear you scream, and they would have pulled every stop to make sure that you did so. They wanted to hear every single noise that your bodies were capable of making together.

Beneath the loud moaning and grunting was the harsh slap of skin agaisnt skin, and beneath that was the absolutely obscene sound of Leah fucking into your cunt. Each of her thrusts was punctuated with a squelching sound. You were starting to drip onto her thighs, wetness smearing all over both of your thighs.

Mary tried holding off for as long as she could, but her impulses won out. She moved in behind your body and timed things to slide in opposite of Leah. The two of them both began to pick up their pace, roughly fucking into you as you cried out on top of them. You could feel tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as your body tried to decide whether or not you wanted to cum again.

It was all becoming so much, but you felt so close. You swore for a moment that you were feeling absolutely everything. Overstimulation didn't feel like it could even begin to describe what you were feeling. Every sensation blended together in a sort of pleasurable pain. Your nails scratched down Leah's chest, digging in hard enough to draw a little bit of blood as you arched back into Mary.

At this, Mary placed the side of her hand into your mouth. You bit down as she pulled out, tears actually falling down your cheeks at this. Leah kept completely still as Mary slowly started to move you away. You clung to the goalkeeper as she carried you into the bathroom.

"It's so fucking cold in here. Why is it so cold in here?" you asked as you watched her turn on the shower.

"Just wait a minute, and I'll warm you up, okay? It'll only take a minute," Mary promised. She waited for the shower to reach a decent temperature before she helped you into it. You sat against the ledge as Mary helped you clean both of yourselves up. It was a fairly relaxing experience, and you found yourself nearly falling asleep before Mary had a chance to get you out of there.

"I don't think I can make it back to my room," you mumbled as Mary wrapped you up in her robe. She laughed at that as she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Good, I'd feel pretty bad if you left me all alone after that. I thought we had a special moment," Mary said. You knew that she was half-joking. "Which side is it that you like again?"

"Whatever side you're laying on. Goalkeepers make great pillows," you teased. Mary pretended not to be amused, but you could see the corners of her mouth tilt up a bit. Leah and Alessia were gone when you got back, leaving you and Mary to yourselves. "Is it still okay if it's just us here?"

"As okay as it is in Manchester." Mary had never kicked you out of her place before or even rushed you away the next morning, so you felt a lot better about sleeping over. "Alright miss, all I ask is that you keep your hands to yourself. I need my beauty rest, and I can't do that if you're frisky."

"I'm not the one with wandering hands." You poked Mary in the chest as you got into bed. You were planning on staying in Mary's robe, well aware that it'd be open within the next few minutes if Mary had any say in things. She had only gotten herself partially dressed, sleeping in an old t-shirt and underwear.

"They're not wandering, they're just active. Occupational hazard or something…" Mary trailed off. You rolled your eyes at her as you motioned for her to get in bed with you. Mary laid down next to you and pulled you to lay with your head against her chest as her arms wrapped around you. You weren't sure that you even lasted a minute longer staying awake, not with Mary's fingers running through your hair.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Darkest Of Angels

The latest instalment in the MAD MAX series, FURIOSA, is not as inventive as its predecessor, FURY ROAD. There are few moments to match the kooky joy of seeing the DOOF WARRIOR thrashing his guitar made out of a bedpan, atop a truck full of Taiko drummers in this movie. But FURIOSA delivered, and not in the ways expected. It is dark. A post-nuclear Dickensian western. A harrowing tale of an orphan taken to the Wasteland workhouse. With no inheritance to save her day, she wants revenge. There's plenty of George Miller’s signature kinetic storytelling. This isn't mere mayhem, but a thoughtful meditation on war, revenge, grief, and hope, told in 5 chapters.

1: The Pole of Inaccessibility

“Do Not Look Away, You Mustn’t Look Away.”

The tale begins in the “Green Place”, an EDEN hidden in the Wasteland. Instead of an apple, a peach is plucked by a little girl - a much younger FURIOSA. For the first hour, the titular character is played by Alyla Browne, who gives an absolutely riveting performance. Many of the traumatic moments that will shape the character are dealt with by this incredible young actor. 

Furiosa is soon kidnapped by the motorbike crazies that populate the MAD MAX films. Unfortunately for the goons, Furiosa’s mum MARY JABASSA is a veritable fury, and relentlessly hunts them down. Played by Charlee Fraser, the character isn’t in the story for long but she absolutely fizzes with intensity while she’s on screen. Leaving a white hot afterglow that lasts for the rest of the film. Unfortunately, she is soon dealt with by the villain of the tale. 

When we first meet DEMENTUS, he is clothed in white robes, like a desert messiah in his tent. Hemsworth’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. Dementus has a rural Australian accent, and a speaking style reminiscent of earlier generations. This may be lost on anyone without a small town Australian grandfather, but for me it had a chilling effect. At once folksy, familiar and terrifying. Most of the quotable lines from this film are from Dementus. He’s a bad egg, but eminently watchable. A Long John Silver of the desert.

2: Lessons from the Wasteland

"Who's got the goods? The bollocks, the testes to ride with Dementus?! "

Anya Taylor-Joy was arresting, and did wonders with a largely non verbal role. She was a strange choice for the role though. Alyla Browne believably played a child version of Charlize Theron, but Anya Taylor-Joy’s distinctive features and slight frame aren’t going to look like Theron in 10-15 years time. 

When Charlize Theron’s FURIOSA spoke with a north American accent in FURY ROAD, I accepted it as possible in Miller’s Wasteland. After all, we’d already learned years ago that way out in the middle of the outback, you might meet... TINA TURNER. So yeah, that accent made sense in 2015. However, we now know that Furiosa’s parents and childhood accent were both Australian. Then, she somehow acquires a North American accent growing up in the Citadel. Surrounded by Aussie War Boys?

George Miller deservedly gets praise for his imaginative visual world building and storytelling, but sometimes his world doesn’t make ‘sense’. I know that these films are best taken as kinetic & operatic comic books, taking place in a mythic world. However, inconsistencies sometimes break the spell, popping me out of the movie watching experience, to ask real world questions. 

However, Tom Burke’s Aussie accent was flawless, and his turn as PRAETORIAN JACK was wonderful. A stoic character, with as many wounds and losses as any other wretch in this misbegotten landscape, but who hasn’t lost the ability to be humane.

3: The Stowaway

“Didja see that? How they fought for each other, this little army of two? Where were they going, so full of hope?”

Each MAD MAX film thus far took us to a completely new part of the Wasteland. FURIOSA too shows us a new location, the Green Place. Experienced for mere moments, before being hauled to locations we’d previously seen in FURY ROAD. 

Though shown 15-20 years earlier, they looked exactly the same. Instead of seeing The Citadel only partially built, ruled by a younger Immortan Joe (perhaps not yet needing his mask, but already showing the signs of physical frailties?) characters & locations look as they did in a movie set 15-20 years later.The only character who shows the passage of time is Furiosa herself. 

George Miller takes big swings with these MAD MAX films, but in completely different ways with each one. FURIOSA is back to a revenge story, which is where the series began, but with a completely different structure this time. Ending on a dialogue in the desert, instead of blow-the-hinges off action sequence. After the excitement of what came before, a verbal showdown in the desert was anticlimactic for some. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, climaxing with jibber jabber instead of Leone’s gunfight. For me though, this ending (and Hemsworth’s speech) was one of the high points of the film.

The film has many images that stay with me - A time-lapse shot of a young tree growing from a discarded wig. A lizard eats flies buzzing around a skull in the desert, only to be crushed under a racing motorbike tire. Parasailing marauders attack a giant truck from the sky. The sadistically twisted villain wears a child’s teddy bear. Owned by a victim? Or his own children from long ago? What a grimly beautiful world this is.

4: Homeward

“There will always be war. But to get home, Furiosa fought the world.”

Some critics said FURIOSA was “an epic slice of myth-making”, while others called it “a joyless, pointless, pretentious and inartistic slog”. Generally though, critical response was effusive. 90% on Rotten Tomatoes with an 89% audience score. Interestingly, these action films are consistently rated higher by critics than by audiences:

FURIOSA: 90%/89% FURY ROAD: 97%/86%  BEYOND THUNDERDOME: 79%/49%  ROAD WARRIOR: 94%/86%  MAD MAX: 90%/70% 

Also interesting, is that FURIOSA’s audience score is the highest of all the 5 films. Stranger still is that this favourable response didn’t result in box office success.. There are many theories as to why this is so. Although some say that this is the best prequel ever, any prequel is by definition unnecessary. Perhaps those that focus on a sidekick character will have a harder time connecting with audiences. Especially if the franchise’s main character is a no show. (Likewise, SHORT ROUND: AN INDIANA JONES SAGA might tank at the box office too, if Indy only has a cameo of mere seconds.)

This gets to why an audience decides to go see a movie. Personally, I just needed to know that George Miller - a director I’ve followed since my teens - was making another movie. That’s it. I was already in line before I knew what it was about. But most people, even MAD MAX fans, lost interest when they heard the famous character wasn’t in it. Joe & Jane Public bond with actors and characters. Directors not so much.

5. Beyond Vengeance

“D’ya have it in ya to make it epic?”

Movies used to be cheap entertainment, that audiences could afford to take a chance on, but they are expensive nowadays. Especially with all the bells & whistles of IMAX and reserved seating. People have been burned so many times by gushing press luring them to lame movies, that positive reviews and ‘buzz’ are now simply assumed to be studio psyops. Flatly ignored. Instead, if it’s a film they are unsure of, many prefer to wait a few weeks and try movies at home, affordably. On the big screen TVs & sound systems bought during the pandemic.

Given FURIOSA’s poor box office, we may never get the 6th instalment in the MAD MAX saga; WASTELAND. Which makes me regret that George Miller hadn’t made that film before this one. FURIOSA isn’t my fave of the MAD MAX films, but ranks high in my personal list. A fantastic addition to this series, that deserved more success than it got, sadly. Seeing George Miller stretch himself, in this mythic world he has constructed over decades, is a true cinematic joy.

“To feel alive, we seek sensation — any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow!”

[noobiestnoober]

Plan F: Fabulous or Failure? (Damon X Reader)

This is a one shot-fic between Damon and Y/N Gilbert, who is the twin of Jeremy Gilbert. They are always upto no good and going around doing pranks. One day they decided to steal the moonstone from Klaus as a bargaining chip to make him leave the town.

I got this idea while going through story prompts. The link to the original post is here.

I hope you guys enjoy the story. <3

_____________________________________________________

"Let's just move on to plan F. F stands for fabulous."

"The way all your other plans have worked out so far, I would assume F also stands for failure."

Y/N rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk, "You know, Damon, your lack of faith in me is both endearing and annoying."

Damon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his trademark smirk firmly in place, "I'm just being realistic, Y/N. After Plan A was 'Avoiding Klaus,' Plan B was 'Befriending Klaus,' and Plan C was 'Running Away from Klaus,' I've noticed a pattern."

"Well, if you have any better ideas, Mr. I-Know-Everything, I'm all ears," Y/N shot back, placing her hands on her hips.

He chuckled, stepping closer, "You know I live for this kind of chaos. But let's hear about your 'fabulous' plan F. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised."

Y/N took a deep breath, dramatically flipping her hair, "Plan F involves us sneaking into Klaus's mansion, stealing the moonstone, and using it to leverage him into leaving town."

Damon raised an eyebrow, "Bold. Reckless. Probably doomed to fail. I like it."

"That makes one of us," Y/N muttered under her breath, then louder, "So, are you in or are you going to stand there and critique my plans all night?"

"What's life without a little danger?" Damon said, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, "I'm in. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."

"Deal," Y/N said with a grin, "And when it works, you owe me dinner."

Damon smirked, a playful glint in his eyes, "Fine. But when it fails, you're buying the drinks."

"You're on, Salvatore," Y/N said, turning towards the door, "Let's go be fabulous."

As they walked out, Damon couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. Y/N's plans might be a mess, but they were never boring. And deep down, he knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Their bond had grown over the years, ever since the Salvatore brothers moved to Mystic Falls. Damon had taken an immediate liking to Y/N’s fearless attitude and quick wit. She was the only one who could match his sarcasm and keep up with his schemes.

As they approached Klaus's mansion, Y/N whispered, "Remember the time we tricked Stefan into thinking the house was haunted?"

Damon chuckled, "How could I forget? He almost staked me."

Y/N grinned, "Good times. Let's make another memory tonight."

Damon nodded, his smirk fading into a serious expression, "Stay close, Y/N. I can't afford to lose my favorite Gilbert twin."

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, "I’ll be right behind you, Damon. Let’s show Klaus what fabulous really looks like."

___________________________________________________

Damon and Y/N crouched behind a row of bushes just outside Klaus’s mansion. The moon cast a pale light over the sprawling estate, adding an eerie glow to the surroundings.

Damon: "Alright, we need to be quiet and stealthy. Got it?"

Y/N: "Of course. Quiet and stealthy. My middle names."

Damon raised an eyebrow, "Your middle names are Marie Elizabeth."

Y/N huffed, "Details. Let’s focus."

They sneaked around to the side of the mansion, where Damon had spotted an open window earlier.

Y/N: "Boost me up.

Damon interlaced his fingers to give her a lift. As she climbed up, her foot slipped, and she ended up kicking Damon in the face.

"Ow! Watch where you’re aiming those!"

"Sorry! It’s dark!"

She managed to get through the window and reached down to help pull Damon up. As she helped him climb, Y/N knocked over a vase, which shattered loudly on the floor.

Damon: "Quiet and stealthy, huh?"

Y/N: "I’m doing my best!"

They tiptoed through the dimly lit hallway, trying to avoid any more mishaps. Suddenly, they heard footsteps approaching.

Y/N: "Hide!"

They dove into a closet, cramming themselves into the small space. Y/N tried to hold back a giggle as Damon’s elbow poked her in the ribs.

Damon: "What’s so funny?"

Y/N: "Nothing. Just thinking about how cozy this is."

Damon rolled his eyes, "Focus, Y/N."

The footsteps passed, and they slipped out of the closet, continuing their mission. They reached Klaus’s study, where the moonstone was supposedly kept.

Y/N: "Alright, how do we get in?"

Damon: "I’ve got this."

He pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and started working on the lock. Just as he was about to succeed, the door swung open, revealing Rebekah.

Rebekah: "What are you two doing here?"

Y/N: "Uh... surprise inspection?"

Rebekah’s eyes narrowed, "Really? At this hour?"

Damon: "It’s a 24-hour service. Very thorough."

Rebekah crossed her arms, "You two are unbelievable."

Just then, a loud crash echoed from downstairs, followed by a chorus of chickens clucking.

Y/N: "Chickens? In Klaus’s mansion?"

Damon: "Weird. Let’s roll with it."

Y/N: "Quick, we need a distraction."

Damon: "On it."

He grabbed a nearby bust and tossed it out the window, triggering an alarm. Rebekah turned to look, giving Y/N just enough time to slip into the study and grab the moonstone.

Y/N: "Got it!"

Damon: "Time to go!"

They bolted for the exit, but not before Rebekah caught on and started chasing them, "You’re not getting away that easily!"

They sprinted through the hallways, dodging more clucking chickens and slipping on feathers. As they reached the front door, Klaus himself appeared, blocking their path.

Klaus: "Leaving so soon?"

Y/N: "Uh, Damon? Plan G?"

Damon: "Plan G. Got it."

Klaus: "What’s Plan G?"

Damon smirked, "It’s for Getaway."

With that, he grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and sprayed it in Klaus’s face, creating a cloud of foam. They dashed past him and out the door, laughing as they went.

Damon: "I can’t believe that worked!"

Y/N: "Told you it was fabulous."

As they ran down the driveway, Damon held up the moonstone triumphantly, "We did it!"

Y/N grinned, "And you owe me dinner."

"Fine..." Damon gruffs.

Their escapade might have been chaotic, but it was also one they’d never forget.

[xtruss]

Noelia, a 19-year-old wrestler, poses for a photograph in her traditional cholita garb. Photograph By Luisa Dörr

Meet The Women Wrestling Their Way To Equality in the High Andes

Bolivia's stylish Flying Cholitas have merged modern wrestling with their community's history of activism.

— By Laurence Butet-Roch | Photographs By Luisa Dörr | August 30, 2018

“People need heroes, wrestlers, champions of their own who can be admired,” reflects Brazilian photographer Luisa Dörr, who spent ten days in El Alto, Bolivia, with a unique group of female wrestlers known as the Flying Cholitas. Recognizable by their colorful and elegant attire of multilayered skirts, embroidered shawls, and precarious bowler hats, cholitas emerged at the turn of the millennium—an expression of the indigenous renaissance taking hold in the Americas.

Angela, a single mother who uses her wrestling money to pay for her son's education, says, "People need some reason to fight, and mine is my son." Her 12-year-old son comes to watch all of her matches.

Left: Once a year in El Alto, Bolivia, wrestlers take part in a large-scale mixed-gender fight. Anyone wishing to escape the fight must jump the fence around the ring, and the last person inside is the winner. Right: Wara, a 19-year-old wrestler, says, "Thanks to wrestling, I have traveled to many places in Bolivia. For us, this is our profession."

Dörr, who likens them to Hollywood superheroes capable of flying, first encountered the wrestlers while her husband was working with local architect Freddy Mamani. She recalls attending Sunday matches at the community’s multifunctional center: “It's been a long time since I stopped liking the men's fights. They're the same as ever, but the Cholitas are the ones that save the show. The younger audience members identify with the good heroines, while the older ones prefer the rougher ones,” she says.

The Cholitas train twice a week and watch YouTube videos of Lucha Mexicana to improve their techniques and tricks. “The fight, more than anything, is a constant update of maneuvers. It's like riding a bicycle; if you learn to walk, you never forget. But if you want do tricks, you need to practice. The fight is the same. An eternal learning," explains Claudina, whose father, brother, and sister also wrestle.

Claudina, a Flying Cholita, comes from a family of wrestlers. She says, "My father was a fighter. My brother is a fighter. My sister is a fighter. I am a fighter."

Left: Wara, 19, raises her hands in the air as her portrait is taken. Right: The ring at the Dolores de El Alto Sports Center is surrounded by a fence—and, during matches, by cheering, shouting, and jeering fans.

And the better they get, the more they can assert their presence in a field dominated by men. At times, both genders are even pinned against one another. "When a woman fights 100 percent, men want to fight 1,000 percent. They do not accept that they are overcome. In our companions, there are also some anti-Cholas,” says Mary Llanos Saenz, known as Juanita La Cariñosa in the ring, who’s been fighting for almost 20 years. “In the beginning, we were not allowed to enter the men's room. We used to change in the stands and wait outside. That's why we created the Association of Fighting Cholitas. There, men do not get involved.”

Monica, a friend and social worker in the community, was Dörr’s way in. “[The Cholitas] don’t really care about journalists and fancy magazines,” Dörr remarks. “Many of them were not interested with wasting time with a photographer on a story they will not ever read.” Their attitude toward media is at least partly fueled by the fact that the cholitas have much more urgent concerns than becoming famous. For centuries, they’ve also been fighting outside the ring to protect the well-being of their community.

Angela, like many Flying Cholitas, is a single mother. Others have partners who are also wrestlers.

Left: The voluminous skirts women in Bolivia were forced to wear by Spanish settlers for centuries are now symbols of identity and pride. Right: Sonia, who owns a beauty salon, says, "Sometimes we get hurt and we have to stop [fighting] for a few months. I already broke my wrist, but I never had any injuries that would impede me [from fighting or working] again."

Most cholita wrestlers are Aymara, an indigenous nation residing in the high plains of South America. The group has faced ethnic oppression and exploitation since the Spanish colonization of the region. Referred to pejoratively as “cholo” or “chola” at the time, they were forced to perform menial tasks for aristocrats; required to adopt European customs; refused entry to restaurants, public transportation, and certain wealthy neighborhoods; and denied the opportunity to vote, own land, and learn to read.

Resilient, the community organized, leading several successful movements over many decades, the latest of which was the ousting of President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada—currently facing charges for extrajudicial killings—and the election of an Aymara politician, Evo Morales, to the country’s highest office. In the process, they’ve reclaimed the once-pejorative name and style of dress, turning both into symbols of pride.

“When El Alto gets angry with the state, because they have neglected their schools, their health centers, or their markets, or because of the absence of security in the neighborhoods, it is the women who go out and demonstrate,” explains Dörr. “And therein lies the essence, the reason why people enjoy watching and admiring the Cholitas fight, because it is the dramatization of the Chola Aymara woman from El Alto.”

When many members of Bolivia's indigenous community were forced to work as servants for Spanish occupiers, they were made to wear a particular set of garments. Some of these items, including voluminous skirts and bowler hats, are now symbols of pride for cholitas.

— Luisa Dörr is a Brazilian photographer based in Bahia, Brazil.

[tracidant]

The Muse has been active the last few days. 🙂

Writing prompt: the batfamily adopts multiple guinea pigs

Damian called an emergency Robin meeting.

"Father says I'm only allowed to have 1 guinea pig, but there are 5 total in the litter, so each of you must adopt one, so we can rescue the whole group. Before you start whining, Drake..."

"I didn't say a thing!"

Damian glared at Tim. "I shall take care of them, feed them, and clean the cages. All you have to do is say they're yours and play with them occasionally. I've already chosen tentative names, but if you wish to name yours yourself, I have a list of acceptable names from which you can choose. I have folders for each of you on proper guinea pig care, plus a picture of the ones I've chosen for you. Are there any questions?"

"Little D, what if someone doesn't want a guinea pig? Most of us don't even live here at the Manor. I don't even live in Gotham!"

Damian reached behind him and pulled out a folder. He handed it to Dick. "Grayson, this is the one I chose for you. She matches Haley's color perfectly, and I've chosen the name Mary for her to honor your mother."

Dick sighed. "Ok then. I guess Haley has a sister now."

Damian nodded at his oldest brother before turning to an excited Stephanie. "Brown, before you ask, yes. You may name yours Waffles. I have more dignified names on the list, but if I picked one of those, you would just give it a ridiculous nickname anyway. It's a boy, by the way." He handed Stephanie her folder.

"Sweet! I got a piggie named Waffles!" She opened her folder. "Oh yay! He's even got crazy hair!"

"Todd. Put your hand down. Yours is female, and you may NOT call her Pig. Creativity won't kill you. Speaking of what will, Crowbar is not an acceptable name either."

"Ouch, kid! Maybe I won't take one then."

"And maybe I have new evidence of a certain mysterious food poisoning incident at Blackgate that occurred at the same time you were a guest there a few years ago."

Jason and Damian stared at each other for a few moments.

Jason blinked first. "Fine. So what's my new pet's name?"

"Well, I know you've been rewatching 'Game of Thrones' recently, and your love of warrior women is no secret, so yours is Lady Brienne. I do have a list of other names..."

"Nah, Brienne is perfect."

"Excellent choice, Todd. Here's your folder."

"Drake, I've given a great deal of thought to the name of your guinea pig. It's a male, by the way, and I've decided on Peter Parker."

Tim was a bit taken aback and a bit suspicious too. "You named mine after Spider-Man? That's actually pretty cool. But why?"

"He reminds me of you. He's really one of the most powerful Avengers, yet he'll gladly step back to being the 'friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man' when needed. You didn't think twice about stepping back into the Robin role when I was gone, because you knew that's where you were needed."

"Wow. Thank you, Damian. I didn't realize you saw me that way." Damian nodded and handed Tim his folder.

"I'm not a child anymore, Drake. I can admit that others are better at things than I am."

"So what's your piggie's name, Damian?"

"Her name is Mademoiselle Marie, Brown. She was a leader in the French Resistance..."

"Wait, isn't that Alfred's baby mama's name?"

"Correct. Although I wouldn't refer to her by that term around Pennyworth."

A week later, the Robins got together again to put together the giant habitats for their new pets. (The empty bedroom next to Damian's was taken over for the newest members of the family.) There were two main sections, so the males and females could be kept apart, with a divider that could be removed for supervised interactions. Both sections had several water bottles, feeding stations, tubes, wheels, and sleeping areas.

Bruce and Alfred were watching the scene from the hallway.

"I know this was just Damian's way of getting all five of those guinea pigs, despite me telling him he could only have one, but at least they're working together."

"I've noticed Master Damian has been much more agreeable towards Master Timothy as well. They're actually working on a case together willingly. Perhaps five guinea pigs are a small price to pay, Master Bruce."

"Yeah, but Duke and Cassandra will be back next week, and I heard Damian mention something about a bonded pair of rabbits at the shelter."

The two men sighed. "Well, we do have plenty of extra rooms, I suppose."

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[apricotgojo]

felix and luka ( separately ) with a fem! s/o who has that pastely soft aesthetic and has the matching personality to go with it ! ( naive , kind , caring etc etc ) but can get very very bitchy when angry!

 HELLO! I’m super sorry about the wait but here it is hehe <3 i tried to make it as accurate as possible so i hope you like it ! 

Pairings: Luka Couffaine X Reader , Felix Graham De Vanily X Reader.

Warnings: swearing! 

Felix

 Felix Graham de Vanily has never imagined the day when he would be actually in love - but it actually happened and he wasn’t even prepared for it.

Needless to say, it hit him like a truck and sent him to heaven.

This was his heaven, being on a big bed with you and playing with your hair while you watched your favourite show on Netflix.

“I told you he was going to be the bad guy! I knew it all along!” You exclaimed and jumped up, startling him but ultimately, making him smile.

“It was quite obvious my love.” He chuckles and you pout, crossing your arms while you plop back down next to him.

“But he was my favourite character Felix! And he’s probably going to die now too.” You look up at him and he can’t help but smile at your adorable, pouting face.

He cups your face in his hands and you instantly smile when you see his smile. It was contagious. He rarely smiled so you just feel so much joy bubbling inside of you when the blond smiled at you and you couldn’t help it.

He quickly kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle before crawling on his lap, peppering his face with kisses and completely ignoring the show you were watching.

The room was filled with little kissing noises and giggles coming from both of you.

His hand moves from your waist to your thighs, caressing the fabric of the white thigh high socks you were wearing beneath your pink tennis skirt.

His touch comforted you and you close your eyes, resting your forehead on his and humming gently.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers out of the blue and you gently open your eyes, staring right into his.

A blush creeps on your cheeks and you part your lips, inching closer to his face to kiss him.

A thought bursts through your head move your lips could touch and you smile brightly.

“Can we go feed the ducks again?” You ask him, your eyes bright and excited at the memory of the last time you went with him.

He took you to the park last time and you fed the ducks together because it was something he enjoyed doing as a child with his nanny. You didn’t know that such a simple activity could bring him so much joy and you were looking forward to the next time you two did it.

His face lights up and he nods, “Of course darling.” He replies and you excitedly hop off of his lap. “Wait you meant right now?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

You were already lacing up your boots so you look at him over your shoulder and pout. “Yes?” You question.

“I thought we were going to..you know..” He looks away sheepishly.

You smirk at him. “Don’t worry Felix, you can have me all to yourself later, I promise.” You say and finish with a wink.

He nods and blushes, letting out a small chuckle.

You finish up putting on your boots and wait for him to get ready before the two of you head out of his house hand in hand.

You two walk through the park, his hand in one of your hands and in the other hand you held a small paper bag full of bread for the ducks.

Children were playing all over the park and people were chatting around you. It was nice to get out of the house with him sometimes, even if he does prefer staying at home.

“Oh look it’s Felix.” A male voice said which was followed by laughter.

You feel Felix tense up and he freezes.

You were quite confused as to what was happening so you decide to turn around and see two guys around the same age as Felix and you.

“Please ignore them my love, let’s go.” He whispers to you and you furrow your eyebrows at them before nodding to Felix.

“I see you got yourself a little girlfriend.” They speak again and you can hear their footsteps behind you. “You’re making a big mistake dating that little pansy babe, come with us and we’ll show you what a real man is like.”

You were livid.

You couldn’t control yourself so you turn around, letting go of your boyfriend’s hand.

“A real man huh?” You say and cross your arms over your chest, walking up to them. “I’d rather die than date one of you hideous mother fuckers.”

They were taken aback, wide eyed, probably not expecting you to talk back.

“Felix is more of a man than you ever will be.” You stare right into the bully’s eyes. “When was the last time you ever got some huh?” your lips curl into a smirk.

“I-i…uhm, well..” he stutters and the other nudges him, mouthing something.

“That’s what I thought.” You say and turn around. “Don’t ever come for my boyfriend again.” You state and grab felix’s hand, looking up at him.

His face was beet red, his eyes were wide and you couldn’t help but grab the back of his head and kiss him right then and there.

He smiles against your lips and you pull away before the two of you walk away from them.

“That was..” He clears his throat. “hot.” He blurts out.

You cover your mouth with your hand and giggle.

The two of you continue your day near the lake, laughing and throwing bread for the ducks to eat.

He made you feel safe and now you were at peace knowing you did the same to him too.

 Luka

 You’ve been waiting for this night for a long time.

Your boyfriend’s first opening gig with his band.

It wasn’t something grand and big – I mean, it was just a small pub downtown but you knew this was a big night for him and so it turned out to be a big night for you too.

You were ready to show him all your support and love, wearing your favourite flowy dress and his lucky guitar pick hanging on a silver chain around your neck.

Your friend Marinette was by your side, she even designed the costumes for everyone so both of you were super psyched for what was happening.

You made your way to the back stage and saw your boyfriend, Luka, sitting down on a chair and tuning his guitar, nodding his head to the beat.

“Luka..” You whisper and tap his shoulder.

He opens his eyes and looks at you, a smile instantly making it’s way on his face.

“There’s my favourite girl.” He says and gets up, hugging you tightly while you giggle. “I’m so glad you could make it.” He says quietly.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You say and kiss him on the cheek.

He kisses you on the forehead and pulls away from the hug, wrapping an arm around your neck.

“Hey Marinette.” He says and smiles at her.

The bluenette grins at the two of you. “Are you excited?” She asks.

“More like nervous.” Luka replies and let’s out a heavy breath. “I’m not usually this nervous but damn, I can’t believe we finally got a gig.”

You look up at your boyfriend with adoring eyes. “Don’t be nervous Luka, I know it’s going to go great.” You reassure him and he smiles down at you, nodding.

Luka is a really calm person so seeing him nervous means that this really means a lot to him. He has been practicing for weeks and you couldn’t be more proud of how far he’s come.

You gasp at the sudden realisation of something and move away from his grasp, rummaging through your little back pack.

“A-ha!” You say and pull out a blue bracelet that you made yourself.

You look up at Luka and smile before handing it to him.

“I made this for you and I want you to wear it tonight for goodluck.” You say, your cheeks heating up when you look at him as he stares at the bracelet you made. “Since you gave me your lucky guitar pick for me to wear, I thought I should give you some luck of my own.” You look down at your shoes sheepishly.

“You’re an absolute angel, have I ever told you that?” He says and grabs your hand, making you look up at him.

You glance down at his wrist and see that he already put on the bracelet.

You get on your tip toes and give him a small kiss on the lips.

“Thank you.” He whispers and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Guys get ready in 5” Someone says from the curtains and Luka instantly stiffens up.

You give him one last kiss on the cheek before walking next to Marinette.

“Goodluck.” You say and give him a reassuring smile as you wave at him.

He nods at you and runs a hand through is hair before grabbing his guitar.

You and Marinette leave back stage and make your way to your seats.

The pub was small so it easily got crowded with people.

You sigh and play with your hair. “I’m so nervous for Luka, Mari.” You tell Marinette.

She rubs your shoulder to calm you down and shakes her head.

“He’s going to do just fine girl, you’ll see.” She says and gives you a bright smile which comforted you.

The background music playing in the pub fades away and the lights start to dim.

“La bulle proudly presents, Kitty Section!” A voice says over the speakers and whistles and claps fill the room.

The curtains open and it reveals the band in their designated places.

You glance at Luka and smile at him before the music starts.

Rose was in front, singing her heart out to their original song and Luka was behind her, nodding his head as he played the guitar with passion.

You admired him and his talents, he used to write and sing so many songs for you, little did you know that one day he would actually be performing in front of a real audience.

Luka was vocalising to the chorus with rose and his eyes suddenly find yours.

He looked amazing.

The clothes that Marinette styled them with, his skin glistening under the lights and a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead because of the sweat.

You bit your lip as you kept looking at him. He was so into the song, so immersed in everything and it was so fucking hot to you.

He noticed this and his lips curled into a small smirk.

“Wow.” You breathed out quietly.

Marinette was beaming at the band and clapping. “I know right!” She laughs happily.

You grinned and sat up as they ended and clapped.

The whole pub was clapping for your boyfriends band and you were so happy for them.

Everyone was walking to talk to them of greet them and all you had on your mind was Luka, you just wanted to hug him and congratulate him and maybe even make out with him in the bathroom.

“Excuse me.” You mutter as you try to make way towards him.

Your eye catches a blonde girl in front of him, talking to him and laughing.

You freeze and something bubbles inside of you.

Jealousy?

You weren’t the type to be jealous but you couldn’t help the feeling.

You decided not to think much of it and gulped, continuing to make your way toward them.

“Can you like, sign my boobs?” You hear her say and giggle.

“Pardon?” Luka blurts out, looking at her with wide eyes.

Nope. That was it.

You quickly move between the last few people and walk up to them.

The girl started to unbutton her shirt and you furrowed your eyebrows.

Before anything else could happen you made your way to Luka and grabbed his shirt, kissing him.

The girl stopped her movements but held her hand on the buttons of her shirt.

You pull away from Luka and watch him as he blinks a few times, dazed as to what just happened.

“go show your boobs to someone else you skank.” You spit out, narrowing your eyes at her.

She scoffs at you and flips her hair before walking away from you guys.

You clench your jaw and Luka grabs your hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luka says and you huff.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You look away from him and frown.

“You know, I wasn’t going to sign her boobs.” He says and shrugs.

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You murmur.

“Didn’t know you could be so jealous.” He says in a teasing voice.

It was your turn to scoff and you look at him. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Uh-huh.” He says and you stare into his eyes for a moment.

He was smirking at you, so calm, while you were red and angry inside at the thought of some bitch showing her boobs to your boyfriend.

Next thing you knew though, you were sitting on the sink of the pubs bathroom, making out with your boyfriend.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

Prev

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie. 

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

 Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand. 

 “He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

 Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills. 

 “Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

 “Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

 Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

 “I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

 “What?” Mike frowns. How even…

 “It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

 “Why was I—”

 “We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

 He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb. 

 He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

 Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code. 

 The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment. 

 He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while. 

 *

 Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him. 

 He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting." 

 Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her. 

 He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

 Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough. 

 So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up. 

 Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it. 

 Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it. 

 Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time. 

 Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

 They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them. 

 One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine. 

 Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

 Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban. 

 There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off. 

 So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time. 

 He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person. 

 Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes. 

 Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks. 

 He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face. 

 You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him. 

 Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it. 

 He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is. 

 *

 "Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

 "It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

 Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay." 

 "I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

 "Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

 "Who's going?"

 The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

 "Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be. 

 "Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

 "Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

 "You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

 Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

 "Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles. 

 "Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

 Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch. 

 He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

 Mike ends up going. 

 After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius. 

 Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

 Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi. 

 "Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

 "Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch. 

 "I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

 "Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes. 

 Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'? 

 "Man, fuck off."

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of. 

 "Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles. 

 Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

 Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

 "If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs. 

 Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party. 

 They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight. 

 High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room. 

 It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

 It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil. 

 He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike. 

 Good. 

 Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date. 

 He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor. 

 Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be. 

 Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

 "Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him. 

 "Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

 Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in. 

 "Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle. 

 "You know what."

 Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

 Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry? 

 Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here. 

 It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity. 

 Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard. 

 Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones. 

 Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach. 

 If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg. 

 Not together his ass. 

 When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while. 

 He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away. 

 Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it.. 

 He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it. 

 But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

 They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

 Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

 It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

 So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts. 

 It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late. 

 There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

 “It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

 "Literally what did I just say?" 

 "If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

 "Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

 Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

 "That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

 "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

 "What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

 He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

 You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

 "If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

 "Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

 Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying. 

 "I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly. 

 You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

 "Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

 "You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

 "I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

 "Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

 "Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?" 

 "No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

 Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

 Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing. 

 So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did? 

 Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him. 

 And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay." 

 Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment. 

 "What time is it?" You speak into his shirt. 

 "About eleven thirty."

 You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

 But nothing. 

 You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

 Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it. 

 "Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to. 

 "Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard. 

 You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

 His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

 Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike. 

 "Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

 Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me. 

 "Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

 "I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

 Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around. 

 Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down. 

 "I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before. 

 You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

 Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand. 

 "That's not what I meant."

 It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

 That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited. 

 "If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition. 

 Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

 "You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

 You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?" 

 His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind. 

 "Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before. 

 "Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike." 

 There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly. 

 "And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

 He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should. 

 Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs. 

 "You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

 One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch. 

 "Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching. 

 "Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

 He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

 "That's fucked up," you somehow manage. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time). 

 You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different. 

 His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike. 

 It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place. 

 You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for. 

 Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car. 

 He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

 Dude obviously likes to be slapped around. 

 There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

 Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith. 

 You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?" 

 "I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

 "See what?" 

 "You and me—"

 "You and I," he corrects, and you shove him. 

 "You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

 "Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

 "That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

 "Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

 "Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?" 

 He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?" 

 "Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

 His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

 Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly. 

 "You caaare about meee."

 He scoffs and looks away

 "Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

 "Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

 "I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?" 

 He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?" 

 "Absolutely. Hundred percent."

 "You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing. 

 Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

 Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

 You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you. 

 "You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

 Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

 "Wow, fuck you."

 "That's the idea," he smirks. 

 "Har fucking har. You're so funny."

 Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?" 

 "Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

 "Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

 You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point. 

 Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction. 

 "Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

 "Sounds like a challenge to me."

 "Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

 After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin. 

 This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive. 

 "Stop making that face."

 "What face?" 

 "That—that—"

 You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back. 

 "What face, hm?" 

 The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down. 

 Damn. He's good at this. 

 "Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off. 

 He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants. 

 You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future. 

 Maddening. He's maddening. 

 You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him. 

 "I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath. 

 "It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

 "A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

 "Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it. 

 "Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?" 

 You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once. 

 Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle. 

 He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

 Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

 You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

 He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

 “Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

 Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

 You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face. 

 You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen. 

 “Feel better yet?” He smirks.

 You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

 Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off. 

 Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees. 

 If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it. 

 He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink. 

 “I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

 He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

 “You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

 “Oh, fuck, fuck—”

 His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

 That’s not important. 

 Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

 “Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

 You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths. 

 You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes. 

 “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

 You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out. 

 “Want me to wear a condom?”

 “I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

 “Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

 You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away. 

 “Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

 You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you. 

 “Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

 You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him. 

 He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders. 

 He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time. 

 Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?” 

 “Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

 He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

 “Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed. 

 You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

 “Shit, shit, shit—”

 Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep. 

 He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. 

 You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them. 

 Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

 But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type. 

 Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction. 

 Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

 “Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

 There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length. 

 You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows. 

 Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other. 

 He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

 Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out. 

 Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

 You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

 “Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice. 

 You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

 He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike. 

 Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

 “I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now. 

 Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

 Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

 “I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

 You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight. 

 “Fuck—shit—”

 That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

 Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

 He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching. 

 With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

 But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

 It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree. 

 The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

 That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

 He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened. 

 Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

 “I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess. 

 “Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed. 

 “It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. 

 You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

 Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

 “Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

 He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug. 

 “I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

 “Yeah, probably not.”

 You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

 Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around. 

 You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair. 

 You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

 As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly. 

 “M-Mike?”

 All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do. 

 “Are you drunk again?”

 “No. Little buzzed.”

 Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

 You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

 "What?" 

 "Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable. 

 "Mike?"

 "I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

 You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy. 

 But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at. 

 For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster. 

 “Why have you been lying to me?”

 And, there’s that drop. 

 You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

 “Bullshit.”

 “Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back. 

 “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?” 

 You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

 Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

 God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

 “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

 You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other. 

 “I… I’m sorry.”

 Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry. 

 “I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over. 

 Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn. 

 “Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

 “Why does it matter?”

 You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

 Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

 It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself. 

 Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

 “Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

 “I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

 “I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.  

 The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

 “Wh-what d’you mean?” 

 “I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

 “Mike…”

 “No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

 “I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

 “No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

 He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it. 

 So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop. 

 “I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking. 

 “Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

 “Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

 “Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

 Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option. 

 “Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

 Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

 “That I’m not good enough.”

 Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

 “Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

 He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

 “Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet. 

 Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

 Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter. 

 Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful. 

 His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

 You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

 “I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

 You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you. 

 Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

 “I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you. 

 “Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

 You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse. 

 “I won’t bother you.”

 “Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” 

 You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things. 

 You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

 But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

 Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares. 

 True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two. 

 He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room. 

 Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause. 

 Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

 Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

 He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his. 

 It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you. 

 That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall. 

 Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend. 

 It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it. 

 He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side. 

 But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

 He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life. 

[ next ]

[isthisthingeven0n]

darkest truths : s.r

returning from his time in prison, spencer joins you and the team on a mission that takes a darker turn than you could’ve imagined. (2k) 

darkest truths / brightest lies 

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everyone was a tad nervous for Spencer to return, yet despite the team's anticipation to watch him walk through the glass doors to the bullpen, a few kept a close eye on you.

“Todays the day, huh?” Penelope nudges you, snapping you from your deep thought about the situation in hand.

Spinning in your chair, you hum in response. “Yeah, today is the big day.” You laugh lightly, but Penelope as always can see straight through you.

Tutting under her breath, she perches herself on the edge of your desk. “What is it? You didn’t have a fight or something last night?” Penelope asks, but you shake your head.

“No, we, we’re good, I promise you.” You reach out, resting your hand on her arm as you listen to a long sigh of relief from Penelope. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, but nothing I can’t handle.” You assure her, wanting to move the topic onward.

“Thank the heavens for that,” She rises to her feet happily. “I can’t have my forbidden lovers at a loss.” Penelope dramatically claims before a gasp sounds from her.

Leaning back, you catch sight of the reason for her gasp; Doctor Spencer Reid returning to the bullpen, something no one thought was a possibility for a short while.

“You’re back!” Penelope yells as she rushes over, enveloping Spencer into a tight hug.

Spencer hugs Penelope back, patting her back as he looks over at you with a small smile. You knew he was nervous about returning, he’d been up half the night talking to you over the phone as he rearranged his book collection for the twelfth time.

Quickly, everyone welcomed Spencer back with open arms. JJ was the last to greet him, having a quiet word before glancing over to you. “Don’t leave her waiting any longer, Spence.” JJ mutters to Spencer, patting his arm as she smiles your way.

Rising to your feet, Spencer hovers in front of you. “Welcome back, Doctor Reid.” You chuckle, even after all these years, some things never do change.

“It’s good to be back, Y/l/n.” He tells you, his hand reaching out for yours as he squeezes it lightly. “Thank you for last night, and staying on the phone.” Spencer mutters, feeling you squeeze his hand back for a moment.

“Anytime, Spence. You know that.” You whisper back, hugging him briefly just as Emily emerges from her office.

“I hate to say it now, but we’ve got a case.” She announces, and you all quickly file into the conference room.

Taking your seats, Spencer sits beside you as Penelope places all your files down. “Can’t say this is the warm welcome I expected to be giving to the good Doctor himself but seems serial killers refuse to take a day off.” Penelope states as she picks up her remote.

Shuffling forward in your seat, you watch closely, oblivious to Spencer glancing out of the corner of his eye. Yet, despite your lack of knowledge, Rossi could see it clearly. Spencer could barely take his eyes off of you, admiring the concentration as your brows furrow together, the determination and focus in your gaze as you listen intently to Penelope. Truth be told, Spencer missed it, more than he allows to let on.

“Today you’ll be heading to Beavercreek, Ohio. Within the past week, there have been three separate homicides. All three victims have yet to be identified and were found with eight gunshot wounds, one of which in the head, killing them.” Penelope shudders as you all look through the case files.

“Shot execution-style, efficient.” You comment, looking at the photos of the two male victims found on the outskirts of town, dumped with their ankles and wrists bound.

“Do we have any leads?” Tara asks, and Emily steps in.

“Since we have yet to identify our John and Jane Does, we’re going based on missing person reports within the past twelve months. These victims were all taken and killed recently, so our unsub isn’t keeping them long. Wheels up in thirty.” Emily explains.  “Oh, Y/n, mind if I have a word?” She asks, exiting the room as she heads to her office.

“Someones in trouble.” Luke jokes as you roll your eyes, but Spencer glances over as a look of concern crosses his expression.

“It’s fine, Spence.” You assure him. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind.” You smile to him as he exits the conference room with JJ whilst you make your way over to Emily’s office.

“I know this is Spencer’s first day back, but I wanted to ask how you are.” Emily states as she gathers her things whilst you hover in the doorway.

Smiling softly, you nod. “I, I’m good.” You tell her, but Emily raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I promise, Em. I’m doing fine.”

“Okay,” She sighs, walking toward you. “but if there’s any change, you have to let me know, alright?”

“You got it, boss.” You salute to her as you both exit her office, catching up with the rest of the team as you enter the elevator.

*

Standing in the ME’s office, the sight before you made your stomach churn.

Usually, these sort of sights never had an effect on you, but something this time is different.

“Hey, you okay in there?” JJ asks, resting her hand on your arm as you snap from your daze as you stare at the bullet hole in the centre of the forehead, wishing that it was the only bullet hole on the John Doe.

“Sorry,” You mumble. “lost in thought for a second.” You clear your throat, stepping closer to the John Doe as you bend over, taking a closer look at the bruising on the wrists from the ropes. “So these victims were tied up, restrained and then shot seven times in the torso and once in the head?”

JJ walks over with the ME’s report in hand. “Actually,” JJ trails off and you stand up now, looking at her as her brows furrow. “it says seven shots were fired post mortem.”

“Why would the unsub shoot seven times after their victim was already dead? Seems like severe overkill.” You reason, and JJ hums. “Sometimes not adding up, we better let the others know.”

“Hold on,” JJ pauses, reading further into the report. “it says there’s something on each victim's mastoids.”

Turning around, you walk over and glance down. “It’s the letter T.” You tell JJ as she bends down beside you, taking a look for herself. “Could it be a signature?”

“I’m not sure.” She states. “Let me get the report for our first Jane Doe, see if there’s anything different for hers.”

As JJ exits the room, you exhale deeply and take a seat. “It’s fine, Y/n.” You tell yourself as you rest your hands against the cool metal cabinet behind you as you try to recompose yourself.

“Y/n,” JJ calls out. “we gotta talk to the team, look.”

Passing you the file, you sigh at the sight of what is on the Jane Doe’s ear.

“T & D?” You speak up, and JJ nods. “Let’s go.”

*

“Truth or Dare.” Spencer states as he stands in front of the boards. “Our unsub is playing truth or dare with our Jane and John Does. Answer truthfully, avoid being shot. Lie, and well.” He trails off as he motions to the pictures behind him.

“Any update on who our Does might be?” JJ asks as Penelope remains connected and the sound of her typing echoes through the line.

“I’ve found a potential match for our Jane Doe. Lucia Hanes, 24, went missing six months ago. On her way home from work but never arrived, reported missing since and never found.” Penelope explains.

“Garcia, can you-”

“I’ve sent you her families details to your tablets.” Penelope finishes before Emily could even ask.

Chuckling to yourself, you open your tablet, looking at the information. “Thanks, Pen.” You call out as you all split up, you and Luke heading to Lucia’s mother's house.

“So, how does it feel?” Luke asks as you pull up outside Marie Jakings house.

“How does what feel?” You question as you walk up the driveway, Luke behind you.

“Having Reid back?” He nudges you playfully. “Come on, he’s your guy, or whatever you two call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you knock on Marie’s door. “He’s my boyfriend, technically.” You comment, knowing Spencer has spent more time in jail than you have officially dating. “But my best friend first and foremost.” You add as the door opens.

“Hello?” Marie answers, crossing her arms as she looks between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings?” Luke asks as he holds his badge out. “I’m Agent Alvez and this is Agent Y/L/N. We’re here regarding the disappearance of your daughter, Lucia Hanes.”

Marie’s hand rises as she covers her mouth, muffling a sob. “Ms Jakings, I understand this has been hard for you, but we’re only asking for a few minutes if that’s alright?” Your voice softens as Marie straightens up and stifles her sob, allowing you both inside.

Sitting in her living room, you can’t help but notice the pictures of Lucia covering the mantelpiece and as you blink, you can’t help but vision Lucia lying on that metal table, lifeless.

“Thank you for your time, Ms Jakings,” Luke speaks up as Marie sits opposite you, her hands shaking as she picks up her mug of coffee.

“Do you have kids?” She questions, looking between you both.

“I, no.” You stumble over your words as she simply nods.

“So you have no idea how hard this is? Your daughter goes to work and never comes home, and has potentially been a victim of, of a serial killer?” Marie’s voice cracks as tears fall from her eyes.

“Ms Jakings, I’m sorry, I truly am. But right now, we’re just trying to find any connection between your daughter and our unsub.” Luke explains, leaning forward whilst you swallow the vomit rising in your throat. “Was there anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Lucia? Or had a problem with her?”

Marie hums to herself for a moment before glancing towards you. “No, she, she was a kind person. She studied hard, she was saving up to go travelling. I, I’ve never had an issue with her.” Marie states. “But, there was this incident in High School,” Marie mutters.

“An incident?” You ask. “What, what sort of incident?”

“Well, Lucia and her classmates took part in an online game. She told me it was something everyone was doing all around town.” Marie glances over to the framed photo of Lucia and herself on Lucia’s graduation. “I didn’t think much of it, none of the parents did.”

“What game was this?” Luke speaks up, now taking his phone out to record the conversation between the three of you.

“Truth or dare.” Marie tells you both, noticing the look shared between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings, I think it’s best if we bring you into the station, for your own safety and we can continue the conversation there.” You explain as you rise to your feet, Marie complying.

“I’ll call Garcia, have her check into the history of this game in the school.” Luke comments as you walk out to the SUV with Marie.

As you all sit in the SUV, Luke pulls away whilst you sit in the back with Marie. “It’s to do with that game, isn’t it?” Marie asks, her voice shaking now as you remain silent. “I knew it would catch up with them.” She mutters.

“Ms Jakings, what do you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Luke yells as a force collides with the car. Immediately you’re knocked to the side, slamming your head against the window as you faintly hear Luke calling your name until everything becomes black.

PART TWO

[sparkledfirecracker]

Sunny Fall Out

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , again congrats on reaching 5K 😊!

Title: Sunny Fall Out

Pairing: Frank Adler x Female Reader

Challenge: Frank Adler / Babysitting Mary

Warning: Swearing and fluff

My blog is an 18+ only zone, minors do not interact. Don’t let the fluff fool you.

A/N: My second entry for Synt’s 5K follower challenge. This fluff entered my brain while working on this dark filthy twisted mobster story. Took a break to write up this fluffy drabble for the lovely anon who requested this for the challenge. Lightly proofread, so all mistakes are my own. ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard found on Pinterest, credit to the respectful owners!

How it started:

Frank Adler, your next door neighbour, with his complicated character. He was your weakness, his toned physique, his hard working ethic and his devotion to Mary. Exhaustion had overtaken your body when Frank ambushed you. There he had stood; practically begging you to watch Mary for a couple of hours. Roberta being out for the day and he had no-one else to turn to.

You loved that little girl and wouldn’t — nor couldn’t — say no to an opportunity to watch her. Even when you were exhausted and all you wanted to do was catch up on some much needed sleep.

Hours had been filled with chatter, pillow fort building and currently; watching a movie allowing you to doze off. It hadn’t been long when your nap was interrupted, the snuggled up girl moving with impatience.

“How about we paint some nails?” You croak

“YES!” An exciting peep from the small human. “What colour?”

“We can check, there is tons of different shades.” You smiled, getting up and grabbing your keys out of your bag. “I’ll be right back, don’t burn down the house, okay?”

“I won’t.” A mini promise before you hurried next door.

Only briefly getting used to the comfort of your home. You grabbed the small basket with nail polishes and remover. Running back and settling back down in the homemade fort. It hadn’t taken you long to decide on a colour, pink with a glittery shimmer.

“Mary, sit still.” You chirped firming your hold.

“You’re tickling me.” The foot in your hand tried to wriggle out of your grasp. Loud giggles erupting from the small body on your opposite.

“If you keep this up you’ll have more nail polish on your skin than the actual toenails.” You giggle, hearing the door open and keys being tossed on the table with a loud thud.

Frank leaned his hands down on the table. He looked like he had a rough day with whatever he had to do.

“We’re painting toenails.” Mary gleamed showing him the foot we were working on.

“Are you serious?” He sounded aggravated. Mary’s face dropped at Franks annoyed words. Assuming she’d experienced a minor outburst from him before. You couldn’t get a good read on him and opted for the immediate apology.

“Sorry, I thought it might be okay, since it’s only her toenails -- they can be hidden.” Screwing the brush back on the bottle. “I should have asked first.”

“You should have indeed.” He growled

“Mary come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” The disappointed pout on her pale face made your heart sink. Getting up and holding your hand out for her.

“Thanks for watching her, but I didn’t expect to come back to all this girly nonsense and fucking mess.” Frank grumbled. His impatience growing when you weren’t moving fast enough “Just leave it and get out already.” His annoyance had softened when he spoke the harsh words, too late for an apology now.

“Shut up Frank, I thought it was a nice gesture.” Dropping Mary’s hand and pushing past Frank’s body. You turned around to look at him. “You just didn’t have to be a dick about it.” Slamming the door on your way out.

Large steps taken to your house next door, balled fists by your side while you mumbled angrily to yourself. Fighting the tears that were threatening to fall from being exhausted and emotional, clearly the lack of sleep coursing your body. A squeal escaped when you were tugged -- a little too roughly -- on your arm, making you spin around. Frank!

“Leave me alone, you ignorant prick.” You tried breaking free from his grasp, hitting his arm with your free hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” You spat tears now streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming tiredness consuming your body.

“It’ll have to do”

“It won’t and you know what,” You took in a sharp breath “You’re such an asshole you know that? I did something nice for Mary and here you come, barging in and being all rude and taking your shitty mood out on me. She looked devastated about having to take off some innocent nail polish. I did you a favour when you practically begged me to babysit her. It is just nail polish, Frank, not a full blown makeover to become the next pageant queen of the state…”

The anger unleashed onto him had made you feel slightly better. Before you could speak two large hands had pulled you in and enveloped your lips harshly. The shock made time stand still and then your thoughts recollected themselves at what was happening. Trying to push him off.

“I am really sorry,” Frank looks down at you taking in your features, his cheeks blushed. “I shouldn’t have taken out my rough day on you, it’s just -- it’s just Evelyn making life difficult for a second time ‘round”

You knew his mother was ruthless when it came to Mary. He had told you some small stuff, but knew their relationship was complicated. You’d seen her once and she made shivers run down your spine. She didn’t look like a pleasant person to be around.

Your face softened at his explanation “You want to talk about it over a couple of beers?”

“No, I don’t”

“You don’t want beer? I am truly shocked.” You feigned a gasp, clutching your chest in shocked surprise.

“I want the beer; I don’t want to talk -- I want to make it up to you.”

“For what exactly, Frank?”

“Being an asshole, can I persuade you with an offer of beer and pizza?” It wasn’t really a question, but it was a nice sincere suggestion.

You contemplated for a moment, you grabbed his face and risen to your toes. Pulling him down in your cradled grip and pressing your lips gently to his.

“Does this mean she can paint my nails again?” Mary shouted from the door. Breaking away from the kiss, Frank let’s out a grunt and you both turn your head towards the blonde girl grinning widely in the opening.

“MARY! Get inside”

“Play nice asshole.” With a giggle you slapped his chest playfully.

How’s it going – 6 months later

Your sundress clung to your body, yelping at the cold water from the exploded water balloon. You’re quick to grab the hose holding it in Mary’s direction, joyful shrieks filling the air.

“STOP! STOP!” She yelled, trying to fight her way towards you.

“No, you started it, you’ll finish it.” You laughed continuing to pour the cold water on her.

She fell down and let out a frustrated sob. You initially thought she’d gotten hurt, but when you reached her she full blown sprayed you with her water gun.

“That’s cheating.” You protested, you turn your head at the large grumble from the familiar truck you had been waiting to see. Mischief coursing through your body and you look down at Mary who expresses the same delight as you. “Let’s get Frank.”

“YES!!!” The exhilaration clearly visibly, jumping up and down.

Hiding around the corner you watch Frank approach the house, unknowingly, scanning through the mail. Mary runs up to him with her water gun and you throw some water balloons his way. Hitting him on his head and arm.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” Frank growled looking at the both of you giggling. “This is how I get welcomed home?” He opened the door and tossed the mail inside, before returning with a wide grin, grabbing a filled bucket by the door and running your way.

“RUN” Mary shrieked heading off, Frank followed in her tracks. Grabbing her by the arm and locking her between his legs. Her frantic movements were no match to his firm hold and she screeches when the cold water is poured down on her.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. Frank whispers something in her ear and she nods. He lets her go and he waves at you, raising your eyebrow in confusion, but soon realize that Mary is running your way.

“You traitor.” You chuckle pointing towards Mary.

Running away quickly, sprinting around the house trying to dodge Mary. She launches her small body at you, hanging onto you like a Koala. It has clearly slowed you down and before you know it Frank catches you, securing you in his grasp. Mary let’s go and runs away.

“I missed you.” You muse giving him a quick peck on his lips, batting your eyelashes at him.

“I missed you too, but that cute look is not going to charm me.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling back giving you a devilish look. “We’ve got other ways to deal with naughty girls like you.” With ease Frank lifts you over your shoulder, you slap his ass animatedly trying to get him to put you down.

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[plant-flwrs]

ruined parties // older brother draco (implied fred weasley)

masterlist!

a/n: i didn't know how to label this without it looking like an incest fic and I just want everyone to know it is most definitely not an incest fic and I don't know how to make it look better why is this my life

i just saw this in my inbox unreasonably late and I loved it sm so I wrote this little overprotective big brother draco fic :) I wanted to thank @gaycatlord-stuff for the message and the meme because I loved it sm and it rly got the juices in my sahara desert brain flowing.

summary: Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

(2k)

-----

Sometimes, you wondered how different your life would be as a muggle. You wondered if your wealthy parents would have shoved you off to a nanny rather than house-elves; if you would have gone to a muggle boarding school and studied classic literature for an actual class and not just for fun, which Draco loved to remind you was one of the weirder things about you; if you would have learned to do laundry and wash the dishes and comb your hair without the brush levitating with a flick of your wand.

You wondered, most of all, how Draco would manage to beat up all the boys who showed interest in you as you grew up.

Draco went through his phases of the ways in which he would 'protect' you. He had really enjoyed the bat-bogey hex for a while in your first year. In second year and most of third year, he went with the safe option of the jelly-legs jinx. By fourth year he had matured to more advanced methods of transfiguration. He had managed to turn Michael Corner into a raccoon for at least a whole day when Michael had offered to carry your bag for you in the hall.

Fifth year was bad. He had been taken in by Snape, who offered him a number of tips and tricks in the world of dark magic. You insisted Draco didn't need dark magic, and he insisted that you mind your own business.

Draco was irritable and nearly unbearable by sixth year. He hovered over you like a vulture, sending glares to anyone who even looked at you. Your friends started calling him Bloody Mary because he was always haunting over your shoulder. You knew it was because your parents were putting a lot of pressure on him and his crush on Harry Potter was becoming inhumanely large, but still. It was annoying.

It was even more annoying when Draco seemed to have met a suitable match in Fred Weasley.

You had a bit of a liking for muggle things. The school year was your only chance to inhabit this hobby, with your father removing all your muggle posters from your room the second you left for the train. You took Muggle Studies and begged Dumbledore not to tell your parents. You had mostly muggle-born or half-blood friends, which you also told your parents nothing about. Draco found this all the more reason to 'protect' you.

"You ought to dye your hair," you gritted out, sulking over your breakfast and resisting the urge to kick Draco's shin under the table.

Draco didn't respond, shoveling beans into his mouth with an unamused look.

"Seriously," you continued. "Your hair doesn't match your energy. Black would be very striking. You and your boyfriend would be matching."

Draco kicked your shin under the table, making you regret not taking your chance earlier. Harry was a sore spot for Draco, but Draco had just done a wandless spell on Ernest Macmillan before he could ask you to Hogsmeade, and he deserved it.

"What are you reading?" He grunted, offering an unspoken truce he knew you would take.

You shielded the cover, "Killing your brother 101. Enlightening."

"How far into it are you?"

"Almost done. I'd prepare yourself if I were you."

Draco hummed, unfazed by your murderous threats.

"You finish the notes for Charms?" you shut your book, stealing a piece of cantaloupe from Draco's plate.

"Yes," Draco looked at you eating the stolen fruit unapprovingly, pulling some sort of older brother superiority with just one look at you. Infuriating.

"What's the time?" You abandoned the Charms notes, no longer willing to admit you didn't do them.

"Just past 7," Draco pushed his plate away from him, standing and straightening his tie.

"See you at dinner," you began putting your things away and Draco mumbled a goodbye, setting off for his own classes. You were just shoveling the last of the beans he left on his plate into your mouth when a foreign group of bodies were across from you in your peripheral.

You lifted your head, hunched over the beans and still chewing, to see Fred, George, and Lee.

You squinted, chewing slowly and leaning back as to avoid any sort of tripwire for a prank.

"Malfoy," Fred said pleasantly, which was not how people usually said your last name.

"Big brother leave you by your lonesome?" Lee added, also not taking the cruel tone most would when talking about your brother.

This was odd.

"What do you want?" you swallowed your food, eyeing them suspiciously.

"I thought she was meant to be the better of them," George stage-whispered to Lee.

"We are here to formally invite you to a party we are hosting," Fred continued, unperturbed.

Lee and George watched you, waiting for your reaction.

"Alright," you agreed and stood, joining your friends in the hall to walk to class.

"That was easier than I expected," Lee said cheerfully, visibly relieved now that he was not in your presence.

"I told you," Fred puffed his chest out confidently and place his hands on the table as he stood, "Without Draco around, she's perfect."

-

The party was in full swing and Draco was drunk. With one guess, you would have to assume it had something to do with the way Harry kept offering to top off his glass, his hand hovering on the small of Draco's back as they talked into each other's ears.

Drunk Draco was a luxury you were not often afforded. Drunk Draco meant living a life of your own, doing things without his watchful eye.

So you also got drunk. Your friends used the term 'waisted' the next morning, but we will say 'drunk' for maturity purposes. And drunk you got!

Fred was always suspiciously close to you, and suspiciously nice once you thought harder on it. You tried not to leave any drink unguarded while he hovered and stayed with friends as often as possible.

You eventually found yourself on a large leather couch in the center of the room. Ron was next to you, stoned out of his mind, and digging around in the pocket of his flannel for more rolling papers. On the other side of you, Luna's head rolled around her neck, falling onto your shoulder and the couch and finally landing on Ginny's lap when she passed out. You watched Ginny stroke her hair, occasionally tracing a line down her nose. Sighing, you accepted the blunt when Ron finally passed it your way.

You were passing it back, sufficiently stoned out of your gourd, when it was plucked from your hands. You thought you had dropped it, jolting back and looking around frantically until you saw those awful, bony, white fingers dangling the now soggy blunt in front of your face.

"C'mon!" Ron groaned, face twisting through the stages of grief as he saw his ruined creation.

"Pot?" Draco said as if he were 40 and with a mortgage.

"Pot," you replied as if you were 17 and at a party.

One of you had an accurate hold on reality. The other held a soggy blunt.

Ron took the soggy blunt and attempted to salvage it, sinking down to his knees to work on the coffee table in front of you. Draco took his seat and set his drink on the table to his side. He didn't drink from it, presumably because of a blunt that had been swimming in it for a moment.

"I thought you were with Harry," you said slowly, torn between wanting to hurt Draco if something had gone badly with Harry and actually wanting to know why he wasn't still with him.

"Yeah, he went up to bed," Draco answered, not sounding pitiful and mournful like he had a habit of sounding after interacting with Harry.

"He didn't take you with him?" you slurred, leaning into Draco's strong and seemingly sober shoulder.

"Shut up," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your side and hauling you off the couch. You reached into his pocket, finding some loose bills you knew would be there, and slipped them to Ron as compensation before you left.

You felt accomplished, drunk and high, leaving a party after a fun time. It was also a highlight to have given Ron Weasley Draco's drug money.

-

As per usual, you didn't have a date for Hogsmeade. Your friends were all in Madam Puddifoot's with their dates, gazing over the table at each other like lovesick puppies. Draco currently had you in a headlock while he rubbed his knuckles into the top of your head.

You shoved your heal into his foot, making him release you.

You both returned to your drinks with slightly labored breaths and scowls.

Draco was upset because Harry wasn't at Hogsmeade and you were upset because you were in Hogsmeade with Draco. You would have fallen at his knees and begged him to release you from the chains of this sibling dynamic if he weren't the one buying lunch today.

You ate, still scowling, and walked around scowling, and returned to Hogwarts scowling. You hugged each other, scowling, before bed and went to your respective dorms.

-

It was hot and there was no wind. Really, absolutely no wind. The water on the black lake was eerily reflective and the trees were unmoving.

You were walking with some friends, charmed fans moving around you as they blew cold air in your faces. You were returning from Hogsmeade with ice cream, very happy from the outing without Draco.

Regretfully, Draco did not seem to be as happy.

Stepping into the courtyard, you felt a drop of your ice cream land on your hand, sticky and cold and messy, and at the same time, you saw Draco hurl himself at Fred Weasley.

Fred sprawled across the courtyard, landing on some poorly transfigured pillows that you guessed were the product of George's wandless magic. His head was cushioned from what would have been a nasty hit on the stone. He squirmed under Draco, long arms and legs flailing against the steady weight Draco was putting on him.

You watched Lee and George leaning against a wall, presumably letting Fred fight this battle on his own.

You decided to do something similar.

You watched as Fred wrangled himself free, both boys tripping over the pillows until George vanished them. In the free space, they circled each other with their hands raised. It was funny to see two pure-blood wizards fighting so viciously without a hint of magic.

Draco took a step forward with his left foot, tricking Fred out to lunge at him from the right. He had Fred's leg and then Fred was on the ground again, grunting in pain. Draco flipped him and pinned him, knee resting on Fred's back and hands holding his arms together. Deciding Draco had enough fun, you walked over.

"Fight Club?" you offered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade?" Draco ignored you, panting slightly. Up close you saw he had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and some blood coming from his nose. Fred must have gotten a few hits in.

"Yeah," you licked your ice cream, "bloody scorching out."

"Hm," Draco hummed, adjusting his grip on Fred's arm and causing Fred to yelp in pain.

"How are you?" you asked politely.

"Alright. You?"

"Alright."

Draco nodded.

"So, what's this about?"

"He said he was going to prank you," Draco said, shrugging and adjusting Fred's arm again on purpose.

You gasped in faux shock, crouching down to look at Fred.

"A prank?" you asked him, smirking.

"No!" Fred yelped when he tried to move his arms.

You looked to Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed. "I heard you! You said you were going to take her out!"

"Draco."

"Draco!" Fred yelped, finally getting his arms loose and crawling from underneath Draco's grasp.

"Oh my fucking god."

"Merlin," Fred mumbled, looking at your face and then Draco's guilty expression.

"Oh," Draco said simply, head tilting as he added up the moment's events in his head.

"Oh my fucking god," you repeated.

Draco got his feet under him.

"Oh my fucking god!" you hurled your ice cream cone at his back, hitting him hard as he ran. You chased him, narrowly avoiding the trail of melted strawberry ice cream he was leaving through the halls.

[springsaladgaming]

Another Short

Hi, everyone! I didn’t have time to prepare a snippet for today, so instead... Have another canon short story! (I finished this over a week ago. I’ve just been waiting to publish it.)

This one features Cherry, though it is told from another’s point of view. This story does not contain any spoilers for the main plot of Ninelives, but it does contain information regarding Cherry’s back story. This one is another that is a bit of a downer (because I like to write sad shit I guess), so I would advise against reading if you are not in a great headspace.

Content warnings: references to non-descriptive violence, references to non-descriptive injuries, references to mental illness

Continue below to read!

Together

Erik didn’t bother putting on a brave face before he entered the house. He knew before even turning the key to the front door: she would know. She always knew, somehow, that endlessly brave little girl with his green eyes and her mother’s red hair.

He opened the door and stared at her crestfallen face where she sat on the sofa facing the door. Sean, his neighbor, spoke a concerned greeting, but Erik ignored him and walked over to face his daughter.

Her eyes looked red with the threat of tears, but not a single drop fell. “Is it over?” she said, stalwart and unblinking.

Erik put a hand over hers where they rested in her lap and looked deep into her eyes. “Yes, Cherry. It’s over.”

A moment passed, the two of them the only people in the world. She was safe now, Erik told himself. He had to tear out a piece of his heart, but she was safe, and that was all that mattered. Bittersweet relief flooded him, and he let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Cherry matched his sigh, and they were both allowed to breathe. The days ahead would be hard, but the threat of drowning was gone.

Erik turned to his neighbor, his friend, the only one outside of his family who knew enough to be worried. “Thanks for looking after her, Sean,” he said. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

Sean nodded slowly, as if worried that any sharp movements would spook Erik or Cherry. “Are you going to be okay?”

Erik glanced back at Cherry. Her big, green eyes seemed to be looking directly into his soul. Even spoken to someone else, a lie was still a lie, and there was no point in lying in front of her. “Right now, no,” Erik said. “Eventually, we will be.”

The two friends shared a few more words before they reluctantly parted at the door. As soon as Erik closed the front door behind him, the world felt a little less bright. He wanted to curl up and cry, but he wasn’t alone here, and the night was not over.

After one more wordless glance at Cherry, Erik padded toward the kitchen to assess the damage. The floor was covered in glass and food and debris, broken plastic here, liquid spills there. The counters were covered in spices from broken spice jars, and there was blood still on the floor where Marie had cut her hand open after slamming a glass pitcher against a cabinet.

Erik crossed the kitchen, glass and rice and pasta crunching under his boots with each step. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the broom off the far wall and began sweeping the mess at his feet, the sound of detritus scraping against the floor filling the silence of the house.

Memories of shouting and crying and yelling flooded Erik’s mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder why it took him so long to see that his wife was unwell.

Then Cherry entered the kitchen, boots sloppily pulled onto her feet. She stepped across the mess on the ground until she reached the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a small hand broom. She too began sweeping up the debris on the floor, and Erik knew then why it had taken so long.

Erik turned away from watching his daughter and went back to sweeping. Neither of them looked at each other, but he spoke. “Did you always know?”

There was a long silence before the young girl answered. Her voice was small and fragile, but her words sounded aged beyond her years. “It got worse,” she said.

Erik nodded. “Yes. It did.” Once he’d gathered a neat pile, Erik gathered together a trash bag and bin and began collecting the debris on a dustpan.

“She was scared,” Cherry said. “Sometimes I think she didn’t know why. Other times I think she did, even though she knew it didn’t make any sense.” She brought her own small collection to the trash and dumped it.

Erik had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could reply. “I thought I was protecting you from it.”

Cherry looked up at him then, and Erik wanted to weep for this little girl who had experienced too much and too little. “Hiding isn’t the same as being safe,” she said, and it seemed as though she regretted the need to say it.

The two stared at each other then, so many unspoken words floating between them. The silence stretched on until some shards in the trash creaked as they settled, breaking the still moment and sending the two back to their sad task.

“Is she going to come back?” Cherry said, her tone flat and even.

Erik cursed his weakness then, cursed that he didn’t have the same awareness that Cherry did. How he would have loved to look into her soul, to know whether she was asking the question out of longing or fear. But he did not have her gift, and the only thing he could do now was tell the truth.

“I don’t know,” Erik said. “When she gets better, maybe.”

“Will we be able to visit her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not right away, but I hope so.”

“We should bring her flowers when we do,” Cherry said. “It always makes her feel good when you bring her snapdragons.”

Erik had to sit, no longer able to bear his sorrow. He pulled out a chair from the dining table and slumped into it, boneless and exhausted. He did weep then, for his odd and wonderful child who felt too full and too much. She knew every jab of fear, every pang of guilt. She knew what it was to drown in another’s sorrow and to burn in another’s rage. What kind of ‘gift’ was it, to be forced to carry the burden of others’ emotions as she did?

It wasn’t until he felt the tears being wiped from his face that he realized Cherry was standing in front of him. She cradled his face in her hands with a warm and loving touch, even as tears threatened to spill from her own eyes. “It will be okay, dad,” she said. “We still have each other.”

The words only strengthened the flow of tears from his eyes, and he could do nothing but nod at his daughter. He took her into his arms and held her tight, as much for her comfort as for his own. It had been a hard day, and the days ahead would be even harder, but they would get through them.

Together.

[theskywaslookingback]

[AO3] - [read the rest of the series here]

Martin has the TV set to a low murmur, letting Bake Off reruns play in the background as he combs his fingers through Gerry’s hair. It’s warm in the flat, the summer worming its way in through the cracks of the place and turning everything hot and tight. The fan is louder than the TV, oscillating back and forth between the two bodies slumped on the sofa and the one on the chair.

Jon grumbles as the movement rustles his papers, his glasses low on his nose and gaze intent on the paper he’s reading.

“You know,” Gerry says from his comfortable position on Martin’s lap, “if you didn’t assign so much work, you wouldn’t have so much to grade.”

Martin pinches Gerry’s ear in admonishment as Jon makes a noise of protest from his comfortable perch on the arm chair. Gerry yelps and then laughs, swatting at Martin’s hand.

“I’m just saying, you do this to yourself.”

“Hush,” Martin says, tugging gently on a lock of black hair, “It’s too hot to deal with you.”

Gerry hums, picking his head up enough to wink at Jon who just sighs in reply. Gerry settles back in and Martin resumes his petting. It’s nice, despite the heat, one of the very few days they have to spend together. Jon had offered to help out with a summer class at the university that had been overbooked and Gerry had recently been promoted to manager at the bar he’d been working for, which was all phenomenal and Martin was so proud of them both, but it left them all with shockingly little time together.

Martin’s thumb strokes down Gerry’s neck, rubbing over an old tattoo of an eye, pressing down slightly at the pupil. Gerry huffs a breath into his lap and turns just enough to look at him. “Hi,” Martin says.

“Hey.” Comes the soft reply, warm and fond.

Martin would very much like to kiss him, but that would require a level of flexibility he’s never possessed, so he settles for bringing his own hand up to his palm and kissing the center of it before setting it back down lightly over Gerry’s mouth. He can feel the smile tugging at Gerry’s lips before his palm is being kissed in return and Martin brings it back up to his mouth. “Tea?” He asks after finishing the ritual.

“Christ,” Jon says, letting his papers and pen fall onto the small table at his side. The pen jumps at the small shock and rolls off onto the floor. “Please? If I don’t take a break I may actually start pulling my hair out.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Martin says.

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Gerry says, tapping his finger to his chin as if in indecision, “Bald can be sexy. I seem to recall a time when you shaved your head and it didn’t look that bad.”

“Oh?” Delight suffuses through Martin like honeyed sunshine, “Now that’s something I would have loved to have seen.”

Gerry’s face lights up and he sits bolt upright. “Wait here a second,” he says before hopping off the couch and bounding toward the bedroom. There’s a loud crack, like the door has banged off a wall, and then the sound of things hitting the floor in a hurry.

Martin looks over at Jon, bewildered, but Jon just gives a helpless shrug, looking just as lost as he feels. He’s about to get up and go see just what the hell Gerry is doing when he comes tearing back into the room, clutching something in his hands.

“Look!” He crows, clearly pleased with himself, and hands out a book to Martin.

It’s not very large, about the size of a standard journal, and bound in worn, brown leather. The front of it is scuffed, the top corner bent inward like it’d been stepped on or stuffed somewhere and left like that for a long time, forgotten. “What is-“

From the chair he hears Jon say, “Is that-“

But Gerry drowns them both out with his plea of, “Open it!”

So Martin does.

Inside the front cover is a mess of pen drawings and doodles. A stylized eye, a moth, an anarchy symbol, a middle finger, half of them overlapping and the lines blurring. There’s a burst of black in the top right, a dark blot like a burst pen. In the center of the mess are big blocky letters, all caps.

PROPERTY OF GERRY KEAY

Below that, in a much smaller font that Martin can only decipher from years of recognition and practice.

and Jon Sims.

Martin looks up at Gerry who just grins and flops back down on the couch next to him, pressing hard up against his side like he’s eager to watch. Martin flips to the next page.

There’s a polaroid taped to the center, two young boys staring up at him with twin grins of mischief and joy. The boy on the left has chestnut brown hair cropped short. His mouth and hands look sticky and stained a bright red, the likely cause of which being the ice lolly stick still clutched in his right hand. The boy on the right is much smaller, with unruly black hair and red stains on his button down shirt and a matching red mouth. At the bottom someone had written in a tight, cursive script ‘Gerard and Jonathan, August 1999.’ Someone had drawn an ice cream van on the bottom of the page. At the top, in Gerry’s capital letter font, were the words PARTNERS IN CRIME.

The following pages are similar, photos taped onto the pages, sometimes overlapping each other. Some were clearly taken by Jon’s grandmother - the two of them dressed in suits for some function, the two of them sitting at a table and studying, the two of them asleep in the backyard. Others were clearly taken by the two themselves - Gerry smoking a cigarette and flipping off the camera, Jon holding a bottle of beer, Jon reaching for the camera and looking angry, Gerry riding a skateboard, Gerry on the ground with his skateboard upside down next to him. Some of them held commentary - WE LOOKED LIKE TWATS we were eleven!, Gerry has never once landed a kick flip HEY!!!!, we stayed up waiting for the meteor shower, BEST MATES FOR LIFE. Even more held doodles - ocean waves crashing against a rock, a pair of doves, zig zag mazes and tic tac toe, a lit cigarette and a bottle of beer.

“Ah-ha!” Gerry exclaims when Martin is more than halfway through the book, jamming his finger down at the picture taped there.

Martin jumps and looks at him.

“I knew it was in here,” Gerry says smugly.

By this point it looked as if Gerry had already started dying his hair black and growing it long, almost past his shoulders. His eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner and he had at least two piercings that Martin knew hadn’t come with parental permission. Next to him was Jon, hair buzzed down to his scalp and scowling impressively at the camera, wearing a too large leather jacket and a t-shirt for a band Martin had never heard of.

“Oh!” Martin says, grinning, “It looks so good!” He looks up to gauge Jon’s reaction, maybe even tease him a bit, but the words die quickly in his throat.

Jon’s looking right at Gerry, his face a mass of emotions that Martin is at a loss to try and describe. His eyes look wet.

“Jon?” Martin asks, concern tugging away his amusement and leaving it raw.

Gerry’s head snaps up, his own smile rapidly disappearing in the weight of Jon’s gaze.

There’s a long moment where none of them say anything and the room is stifling from the heat and tension. Martin looks between the two of them, trying to piece together what on earth could possibly be wrong, but he’s coming up short on pieces to work with.

It seems like forever before Jon finally says, “You kept it?” The tone of his voice is raw and brittle.

Martin very gently closes the book and sets in down on the coffee table.

Gerry’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, confused noises eeking out like the squeaking of a rusted hinge. He seems almost as lost as Martin is. Finally his words take shape and land on, “Yes? Yeah, of course I did. Why wouldn’t I have?”

Jon’s eyes flicker away, to the oscillating fan and then to the TV kindly asking if they were still watching. He picks at a loose thread on the chair, fingers working anxiously. “I thought…after your mother- after you left- I thought that…”

Gerry’s eyebrows pull together, his lips tipping down into a frown. “What? Did you think I’d thrown it away?”

Jon shrugs, first one shoulder and then the other, like the collapse of a building. “Just kind of...assumed.” His hands were wringing together now, picking at the skin gently and scratching at his wrist. “After the...after the funeral we weren’t really talking, and then you were just...gone. Thought maybe…” Jon shrugs again, this time lower, hunching himself down smaller, “maybe you didn’t want to remember.”

Oh, Martin thought distantly. Gerry’s mother, Mary, had died when he was only 16, apparently by suicide. It had been a sudden, violent thing that had sent Gerry’s childhood spiraling in a direction he couldn’t control. Less than a week from the time his mother had died, Gerry had been uprooted from the home in Bournemouth he’d always lived in and made to move in with a distant relative named Gertrude up in London. He’d barely had time to process any of it, let alone let Jon know what was happening. It was over ten years before they’d seen each other again, and the gap had always been a sore spot for both Jon and Gerry.

Gerry makes a choked noise and crosses the room in quick strides to kneel in front of the chair. He gathers Jon’s hands in his own, cradling them together. “No,” he says, so softly Martin can barely hear him, “Not you.” He brings their hands up so he can kiss the backs of Jon’s hands, brush his lips over the knuckles. “I never wanted to forget you.”

Jon’s breath hitches.

Martin watches Gerry hold Jon’s hands to his face and mumble something that he can’t make out. Jon’s fingers twitch in response and he huffs out a breath. After a moment he gets up and goes into the kitchen to make them all some tea, flicking the switch on the electric kettle and rummaging through the pantry to find the container of lemongrass tea that he knows Jon likes and the mint tea that Gerry prefers. It doesn’t take long, but he likes the ritual of it anyway. He gathers their two mugs in one hand, and his own mug of a spicy black tea in the other and heads back into the sitting room.

Jon has moved over to the couch, tucked under Gerry’s arm with the book in his lap.

Martin smiles and sets their tea down.

When Jon looks up, Martin bends down and kisses his forehead and then grins wider when Jon’s nose and forehead scrunch up.

“Okay?” Martin asks.

Jon waves at him dismissively but makes a grab for his shirt when Martin turns like he’s going to take the chair. “Yes,” he says, exasperated, “come here, please.”

Gerry squishes himself into the corner and pulls Jon closer to make room, so Martin sighs and fits himself in next to them on the sofa. It’s a cramped fit, but ultimately worth it for the way Jon relaxes against him, flipping absently through the book of memories on his lap.

“Gerry had a point, at least.” Martin says.

“Hm?”

“You looked good with a shaved head,” Martin says too lightly, “might be a good summer to try it again.”

Jon’s protests are drowned out by Gerry’s instant and joyous peal of laughter.

Jon says something about ‘nothing being sacred’, the tips of his ears burning, while Martin tries to hide his grin in his cup of tea. He almost succeeds.