#i also have a headache even though i only had one glass of wine yesterday??

[cheekblush]

i'm sooooooo sleepy but i need to study

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song iii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, lots of lasagne talk, flirting, kissing, fluff 🥰 words; 9,340

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After you had time to calm down, of course you ended up telling Soojung about what happened on the date. You kept some things to yourself, mainly about how giddy you had felt throughout the whole thing, but you were sure she could see that for herself – she kept looking at you knowingly, and for once she kept the teasing down to a minimum. You ended up staying awake quite late, Soojung opening a bottle of wine. You were still excited from the date and the thought of what was to come next, but somewhere along the line, you and your best friend started getting into your feelings. (Was it really a Saturday night until you and Soojung ended it with slightly drunk sappy heart to hearts and hugs? Obviously not…) 

For the first time in a while you felt comfortable enough to open up about your love life (or lack of one) and felt it easy to talk about the past and to even bring up Donghae. He was a forbidden topic for the most part, no matter how much you were over him, but tonight had changed something. You didn’t know how to explain it, and no, it wasn’t because Seokjin was somehow the man of your dreams who had magically made things better with just one date. That was dumb and only happened in cliché Hallmark movies. 

No, it was because tonight had shown you that life goes on. No matter what rock bottom you hit, or how long it took you to get over it, no hurt was forever. You’d been single for a long time, and happy at that – after you’d gotten over the heartbreak of Donghae cheating on you – but tonight you’d had fun. You’d enjoyed yourself, enjoyed Seokjin’s company. You didn’t know what would come of your second date, or if there would be a third, but you were okay with that. You were just living in the moment, and right now you really liked that infuriating-not-so-infuriating bastard. 

You were taking a chance, just like he was, and it was actually pretty exciting…

.

.

You woke up late the next morning, something you didn’t reprimand yourself for because it was summer break after all, but also, you had a raging wine headache that had needed all the shut eye it could get. Your head was still throbbing slightly as you reached for your phone on the bedside table but seeing a text from Seokjin waiting for you made it miraculously disappear. 

Seokjin (10:28am) Hi Y/N, Thank you for such a great time last night. I can’t wait until Saturday. Would it be alright with you if I kept in touch throughout the week?  Seokjin

You giggled to yourself at his insane formalities. Why was that so adorable? But most importantly how could he be both cute and sexy at the same time? He was hellbent on making you lose your mind. You thought about teasing him, asking him when he’d grown comfortable enough to drop the Regards from yesterday, but despite how well last night had gone, and despite how much you loved joking around with him in person, over the phone seemed different. You were still a little nervous – giddy nervous, but nervous, nevertheless. Your conversation from last night with Soojung came back to you, reminding you that this was all too real. You were potentially catching feelings for this man, and it was new, and exciting, but equal parts terrifying now that you’d woken up with a hangover. 

Everything you typed out in reply seemed way too stiff, so growing frustrated, you settled on an emoji to cut through the formalities. 

You (10:49am) I had such a lovely time too, Seokjin. Of course it’s fine to keep in touch. I’m looking forward to Saturday night! 😊

What did he mean exactly about keeping in touch?, you wondered as you got out of bed, padding your way down the stairs and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of ice cold water. A good morning text? A how are you? You knew he was busy with work all week, so you weren’t expecting too much, but just knowing he wanted to stay in contact until next Saturday made you smile to yourself as you waited for his response. 

You didn’t have to wait long. 

Seokjin (10:55am) Great! I’m so excited to try your World famous Italian lasagne 😁

Cute. He’d followed your lead, ditching the last of the formalities and even signing off with an emoji instead. You instantly felt more at ease, but – 

Oh no. 

Why did he have to bring that up and remind you of your humiliating blunder? You knew what would be taking up all of your time for the few days – you needed to perfect this goddamn dish. 

Soojung on the other hand was unbothered by your predicament. Mind in the gutter as always. “Do you think that’s a euphemism for something else?” She asked straight away once you’d shown her your messages a few hours later. 

“Soojung!” You exclaimed, feeling yourself get a little hot in the face. You wish she’d stop bringing up sex, it was stressing you out. You told her as much. 

“You’re the one who’s invited him to your house for a second date.” 

You stared at her, greatly unimpressed. “You know why I invited him here.” 

You’d told her last night. You’d been hit with a surge of confidence when you’d suggested it was your turn to decide on something. In truth though, you didn’t know the first thing about restaurants, you hardly ever ate out, and when you did it was either fast food or at the food court in the department store Soojung worked at. You knew he wouldn’t have minded any choice you’d made, but that didn’t stop the slight apprehension you felt. 

It was normal, given your difference in lifestyles, and whilst that seemed to be no issue thankfully, that difference was still there. However really, that’s why you’d chosen to cook for him. Seokjin had shown you something close to him last night – the restaurant he owned with his brother, and now you were to show him something close to your heart. Something that was you. You loved cooking and baking in your spare time and you wanted to share that with him however small. Granted it was things you were confident with, but lasagne couldn’t be that hard, right? A true perfectionist, you’d master it quickly enough…

Soojung rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could suggest McDonald’s and Dilf would be insanely happy.” She nudged you, squealing like a kid. “He’s just so into you!”

You wouldn’t bite. She was making you nervous again. “Stop calling him Dilf, he has a name.”

“Geez, sorry.” She held up her hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to offend your man.” 

You pushed her shoulder, silently telling her to quit it.

For the next few days it became your life’s goal to master the art of lasagne. Sunday night was spent googling recipes, trying to find the most authentic one. There seemed to be a lot of fuss on the right type of pasta. Flat edged would be fine, but the wavy edge was best. You made note of that. Next was the sauce. Two types. The tomato based one and then the white one – which you learned was called Bechamel. That seemed pretty easy to cook up, but the former seemed a little daunting. Every time you’d had pasta sauce in the past it had been premade, starting from scratch was giving you anxiety. Seokjin thought this was your expertise so you had to make it believable. What if you made it too salty? Too bland?

…Possibly you were thinking way too hard about this. Soojung thought the same. 

“Just buy it in a jar, Y/N, for Christ’s sake. You’re taking this way too seriously. You don’t need to learn fluent Italian to make your little white lie believable. It’s a goddamn lasagne.” 

She had a point. 

“He’d be happy with a sandwich. He’s coming over for you, not the shitty lasagne.” 

“Don’t call my non-existent lasagne shitty, you’re setting me up for failure.” You grumbled, looking at the ten tabs you had up on your laptop screen, all claiming to be the best most authentic recipe around.  

On Monday you went shopping for ingredients. You knew a small world foods store that was just outside of town, you’d been there a couple of times when you’d been baking with the children for class. With help from signposted aisles, you found what you were looking for in no time at all, so that night, you and Soojung both tucked into your first (sort of) homemade lasagne. Only the Bechamel sauces was harder to master than you’d first thought. 

“I think you added too much flour.” Soojung’s nose wrinkled as she spoke. “It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but the white stuff… I don’t know, maybe it’s supposed to taste like that?” 

Nope, she was definitely correct, too much flour, which was odd because you were pretty positive you’d followed the right measurements… 

Tuesday you had a day off from the sight, and even the word lasagne. You met for coffee with your mom but kept the date with Seokjin a secret. Not that she pressed about your love life anymore, she’d long given up on that topic. It was nice to catch up and you made plans for a trip soon. It was hard to find time to visit her when you were in work so you were always thankful for the summer and Christmas breaks. You were her only child, so it made your time together even more precious. She’d only remarried ten years ago, and while Jonathon had kids from his first marriage, they lived abroad. They were older than you and had families of their own. You weren’t particularly close for no other reason than the distance. You’d only met them a few times but they were lovely people. Your father had remarried while you were still in high school, having two more children (a son and daughter) with his wife. You were very close to them despite the age gap and saw them as regularly as you could. Your extended family had long been the norm and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Wednesday you were back on the lasagne. You purchased more pasta sauce and decided on the pre-made Bechamel sauce too, just to be safe. This time around everything went smoothly, Soojung had no complaints and neither did you, but you still invited Taehyung around on Thursday for a third go. He was way more enthusiastic than your best friend, singing your praises all night. 

“Y/N, that was amazing!” He exclaimed, leaning back in his chair to pat his belly. “Dilf dick – Uh, I mean, Seokjin, is going to love it.” 

“Guys, is that what you really call him when you’re alone together?” You whined. 

“Blame Soo,” Taehyung shrugged. “She’s rubbed off on me. But, I’m right,” he smirked. “He’s going to want to give you his DD once he tastes this, if you know what I mean.” 

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, you looked on unimpressed. Maybe if you gave them no reaction they’d stop? 

“Oooo. I wonder what his dick even looks like. I bet it’s as handsome as his face.” Soojung squealed, sat beside her boyfriend. 

“SOOJUNG!” He cried, mouth open in disbelief. 

“Can we just stop talking about his… y’know…” You sighed, unable to say the word aloud. “Imagine if it was the other way around and he was wondering about what I looked like naked.” Soojung wouldn’t be impressed, that was for sure. 

“Fine, you’re right,” your best friend sighed. “I’m just way too excited because you finally like someone!!” She was getting loud now, she always did when she was excited. “And I want it to work out because you deserve it!” 

You chuckled. “Soo, calm down.” But you had to admit her words were sweet. You reached for her hand across the tiny table, giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks. 

“What about Barman dick?” Taehyung asked randomly, totally oblivious that you and she were having a moment. “Huh? Soo? You want my Barman dick tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, a playfulness to his voice as he nudged her. 

She giggled but wasn’t having any of it. “It doesn’t really have the same ring to it, babe.” 

Highly offended he pulled away, pursing his lips. “Whatever.”

“Okay guys, let’s not have a domestic at the dining table.” You laughed. Which was a mistake because now Taehyung’s attention was back on you. 

“So, Y/N, when are you going to invite Mr. Dilf to my bar?”

You sniggered. “How about never?”

“Hey, you ladies are being very mean tonight. I complimented your lasagne.” Hm. That was true, you guessed. “What’s wrong with my bar? I think he’d love it. What does he drink? I see him as a dark rum type of guy.” 

You shrugged. “He was drinking red wine on our date last week.” It still made you feel funny to say the word date. You’d gone on a date. You were dating. A flurry of excitement found its way to your stomach, your excitement for Saturday growing. 

“Interesting,” Taehyung mused.

Soojung stood up, starting to collect your plates. “Okay, I’m washing, who’s drying?”

“Not me,” you sang. “I’ve cooked nearly every night this week.” 

Soojung eyes were wide when you met them, as if she was silently begging you. For what? “Just please promise me there won’t be any lasagne waiting for me after work tomorrow night? I’m going to turn into one at this rate.” 

Saturday arrived soon enough. You woke up the same time your phone went Bing and you knew exactly who it was. Seokjin had been texting you Good morning every day since Monday. He was no longer signing them off with his name, which was progress, and he was even adding more emojis, so you guessed you had rubbed off on him. 

Sometimes he’d drop a meme with the greeting. They were mostly to do with early mornings and workloads to which you’d tease him about because it was your summer vacation after all, you didn’t need to worry about work. But you always sent a Hope today runs smoothly his way too. You didn’t want to rub it in too much. 

Yesterday’s meme had been about dating, something about the guy trying to flirt but being garbage at it and asking if she liked cheese. You didn’t agree that was like Seokjin though – you were gradually learning that he was incredibly modest – but it had made you laugh. Only Seokjin could send you lame memes and you’d find it adorable… You were possibly whipped. 

Seokjin (8:01am)  Good morning. [Image sent] 

Today the meme was about lasagne, which made you question whether he was googling these every morning because no way had a lasagne meme popped up on his social media – if he used any at all. The realisation that he was searching for memes every day was even more endearing and your heart got a little gooey. You read the text on top of the image of lasagne. Dude, is that your new white shirt? Lemme just hop off this fork for a closer look. You genuinely laughed at that one, still wrapped up in your bed sheets. So incredibly lame, but equal levels funny. 

Seokjin (8:01am)  I will not be wearing white… I can’t wait to see you later. Just a reminder that I hope you omitted the garlic for tonight’s meal. I don’t want to embarrass myself by itching all night 😅😂

Immediately the smile dropped from your face and you shot forward, horror washing over you. Oh no. He was allergic to garlic. With the stress of perfecting the world’s best lasagne you’d totally forgotten. What were you going to do? Find a plain tomato sauce? Where the hell were you going to find one? Was that even a thing? You needed to leave now. Jumping out of bed you almost forgot to message Seokjin back. Looking at your phone again the image of the lasagne mocked you… 

.

.

Two hours later you were back at home, in need of a sit down after you’d rushed around town looking for a pasta sauce that didn’t contain garlic (very hard, by the way.) The stress had aged you about ten years. Soojung of course found it highly hilarious. 

“You’d have been in ER before 9pm,” she chortled, still in her pyjamas on the couch. She’d been still asleep when you’d dashed off, a woman on a lasagne mission. 

You ignored her. It wouldn’t have been that bad, right? He said himself he’d only be itching… Clawing off his own skin was probably better than his throat closing up… maybe… 

“How did you manage to forget?” She was still laughing. “AND you said you’d make a lasagne. Italian food always uses garlic. He must think you’re trying to kill him.” At this point you could hardly understand her, words blurring into one as she lost her shit. 

“We went over this. I wasn’t in my right mind when I said I’d cook lasagne.”

She stopped her laugher immediately.  “No way, you’re not blaming me again.” 

“Ugh.” You sighed, suddenly remembering something. “I was going to make my homemade garlic bread.” Now that was a speciality of yours. This night was going to be a disaster.

“Skip the garlic,” Soojung suggested. 

“So, just bread then.” 

She tried her best not to laugh again, not wanting to make it worse. “Yum.” 

It didn’t help. 

What did help though, was making her clean the entirety of the downstairs of the house. As the day went on you started to get more and more nervous, which was silly, but you couldn’t help it. You realised that your place was a shoe box in comparison to his, what the hell were you thinking when you’d invited him here?! It needed to be spotless, to distract him from the fact you would be eating dinner in the same place you would be cooking it… 

You knew there was no need to worry, it was just like last week when you’d grown self-conscious only to be fine once you’d set eyes on Seokjin. No doubt tonight would be just the same, he didn’t give a crap about stuff like that, so why would you even think he would? He’d probably be hurt if he knew… You just couldn’t help those little bubbles of insecurities from floating around inside your brain. You were a law unto yourself, and the garlic-less lasagne wasn’t helping. You’d had no time to prep for it. What if it tasted like cardboard? 

“Lasagne is lasagne,” Soojung reassured you, in the kitchen as you got all the ingredients together. “It’s not going to taste gross just because there’s no garlic in it. Put it this way, at least you can kiss without needing to pop a mint.” 

You whined, shaking your head, you couldn’t even dare thinking about kissing him right now. You’d spontaneously combust from anxiety. 

“Should we clean your room too?” She asked, picking up the jar of pasta sauce absentmindedly. You’d already read the label approximately fifteen times, double checking it was indeed garlic-less. 

“What? No,” you told her, voice all high-pitched. There would be no going upstairs besides from bathroom usage. “But hey,” you exclaimed, rounding on her with the spoon you were holding in your hand. “My room is always clean, bitch.”

She was the messy one.

.

.

Soojung left for Taehyung’s place at half 6, ready for Seokjin’s arrival at 7pm, a hug for good luck before you waved her off. You’d calmed greatly now, nothing like some table laying to ease some nerves. The lasagne was prepped and ready to oven cook, you had a fresh key lime pie in the fridge and you were dressed and presentable with ten minutes to spare. Wonderful. 

The doorbell rung not long after you’d made your way downstairs and you were quickly finding out that Seokjin was a very punctual man. Opening the door to reveal him stood at the porch your heart instantly warmed, skipping a beat when he gave you a dazzling smile and a soft Hey. You felt a little weak at the knees. Nope, you were not ready for tonight. 

In your tiny entryway he offered you a silver gift bag. “I didn’t know what to bring, so.” He said with a shrug as you pulled out a bottle of red wine. 

“Oh, thank you, Seokjin.” You hadn’t been expecting him to bring anything at all. It was a lovely surprise. 

“You probably have some waiting already. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you reassured him. “We’ll use this one.” You were going to use a bottle of white wine you had laying around, nothing special at all. Red wine seemed better, fancier, maybe it would go better with the lasagne?

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I was gonna get you flowers but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything.”

You laughed. What was he going on about? “Why would that freak me out?”

His smile was crooked as he chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. I’m new to this, I thought they would’ve been too forward.” 

You gave a small shrug, voice barely there when you replied. “I like flowers.”

He gazed at you, warm eyes softening as he stepped forward. “Next time.” He smiled. “Next time I’ll get you flowers.” 

You swallowed fairly loudly, averting your gaze as you outstretched your arms. “Let me take you coat.” Was it hot in here? You felt a little stuffy. 

He shrugged off the beige wool blend, revealing the tight fitting black shirt he had on underneath. It stretched over his shoulders, accentuating how broad they were, how hard his chest was and how much his waist curved inwards. The pants he was wearing didn’t help matters too. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, hair parted to the side, a piece curled above his left eye, softening the blow of his exposed forehead. You moved to hook his coat on the rack, realising you could’ve been gawping. Not that you could help it, the man was trying to kill you.

As you turned to face him again, he smiled. “You look really nice.” His voice was soft which just made it even more dangerous. “I think this may be the first time I’ve seen you in pants.” 

“Really?” You wondered. You were partial to a dress in the summer, so he was probably right. You’d chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a patterned chiffon blouse. Nothing too fancy, but he looked at you with awe-filled eyes. Unless you were imagining it. You cleared your throat. “You look good too.”

He stepped back, arms outstretched as he looked down at himself. “Thanks. No white.” He chuckled. 

You forced yourself to laugh too, nerves creeping back just because of your stupid damn lasagne. “No white.” 

Moving forward again he took your hand. It was warm and soft, just as you remembered from last week. Who cared about the lasagne when you were this close to him? When he was looking down at you with those brown, twinkly eyes? Not you anymore. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, Y/N.” 

Oh.

.

.

You invited him inside the living room first, pouring him a small (and his only because he the car) glass of wine as you chit chatted for a few minutes. Sat next to him was RJ, who you’d taken from your bedroom to join you both for the night. He wanted to say Hi, had been your opening line and Seokjin had found it hilarious, cracking up instantly. Although his “I missed you buddy, how have you been?” went rudely ignored. Maybe the alpaca was nervous… 

Ever the gentleman, he complimented you on the house, noting the décor with a fond eye. That surprised you, maybe he had played a part with the interior of his home. Well, you’d only seen the cosy family room – but it suited him very well. You knew there had been no need to be nervous when it came to inviting him into your home. There wasn’t a judging bone in Seokjin’s body. 

You talked about your weeks, yours had been fine, but of course you left out all the stress over the lasagne. Seokjin’s week on the other hand had been quite demanding, but that was nothing new he told you with an accepting shake of his hand. He was used to it by now, but he had to admit tonight’s date had made it easier this time around. He was full of the charm, not that you were complaining…

Misook was babysitting Arin tonight, he told you when you asked how she was. It was his weekend this week, he and Nana took it in turns – when she didn’t cancel, he added as an afterthought – but he seemed a lot more relaxed talking about his ex-wife this time around seeing as last weekend she hadn’t broken any promises. He was happy if his daughter was happy, and that made you smile. You remembered Arin’s sorrowful face that day her mom had cancelled on her, so you were glad they’d found time to spend time together. You also remembered how irritated Seokjin had sounded when he was opening up to you on the bench at the school fate… You wondered just how often Nana cancelled plans, and couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Arin and Seokjin… You hoped this marked the start of things being easier for them now. 

Soon after that, you served him your starter (“garlic – wait, no I mean, no-garlic bread.”), and you chatted some more over that and while the lasagne baked. It was surprising how little you’d touched the sides on your first date, so tonight you covered even more bases. Family mainly. You told him about your half and step siblings, your parents’ remarriages of course coming up too. He seemed interested in that, wondering about your views on it and if it had affected you as you grew up. As a divorcee you understood the relevance to him and because he was so easy to talk to you found yourself opening up freely. 

His parents were still married and Seokjin was the youngest out of their two sons, so it was quite unheard of for the second born to take over a family company. In fact, it was the first of its kind for his, which made it even harder for him. His older brother had been the rightful heir to LG Electronics but his passion had always been in culinary arts. His parents had been kind enough to let him follow his dreams, and thankfully, for Seokjin, that meant he could follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been eager to prove himself but it had been hard in the beginning. His status as the youngest son meant that a lot of people set him up for failure, but with his family’s love and belief he’d managed to succeed and confirm himself as the rightful CEO. You didn’t doubt it. It seemed he’d worked hard to get where he was now. That was admirable. 

The influx of information was so interesting to you and it didn’t feel real. While you could imagine Seokjin taking charge, visualising him in that tailored houndstooth suit he’d worn when you’d first met him, it was strange to think the smiley and soft-spoken man sat in front of you was from a long line of power and wealth. He should be untouchable, yet here you were able to reach for his hand across the table. Able to feel his forefinger stroking delicate patterns into your palm as you opened up and got to know one another more and more… 

“So, if your family’s a big deal, what about things like arranged marriages? Are they still a thing?” You asked, maybe confusing fiction for fact. 

Seokjin laughed at your wording. “They used to be, not so much anymore. I met my ex-wife through a friend. They concentrate less on things like that these days.” He shrugged, adding as an afterthought, “As a divorced CEO I think I’m a great example of that.” 

That was true, you thought to yourself, wondering how the breakdown of his marriage had also played a part in the stress of his early years as CEO. 

“I know it all sounds pretty crazy, but I like to think my family is just like anyone else’s.” He continued, smiling bashfully when you met his gaze. “That I’m just like anyone else.” 

You wondered how many people had immediately judged him because of his status… You’d been one of them, right? Even if you hadn’t known any of the details, you’d written him off as some obnoxious, rich guy who flaunted his wealth… You felt guilty thinking back. He was the complete opposite.

You nodded in agreement before grinning. “I’d have liked to see what college Seokjin was like.” 

“A complete nerd, to tell you the truth.” 

He answered so seriously, you didn’t know how to react, and then he was laughing loudly, cracking up at himself. You couldn’t help but join in. That’s when your stove alarm went off, shrill and incessant, signalling the arrival of the dreaded lasagne…

It turned out he loved it though. 

“This is amazing,” Seokjin praised, mouth still half full as he chewed. You did have to admit it was good. It tasted just like the original, despite the lack of garlic. Seokjin quirked an eyebrow, smirking your way. “So, how lucky am I to be able to try this World famous Italian lasagne?” 

“Very lucky.” You kept your answer short. Hoping he’d just drop it. 

He didn’t. 

“How lucky?” He tried to pry from you. “How many people have tried it?” 

You gave him a small smile, hovering your fork over the plate. Technically he was the third, but you couldn’t tell him that, could you? “I can’t disclose that.” 

He emitted a short laugh. “What about the recipe? Care to share?” 

You brushed him off with a soft chuckle. “A chef never tells her secrets.”

“Not even me?” His bottom lip jutted out as he looked across at you. 

Your heart did a little dance. He was being unfair. “Don’t pout like that, it’s making me feel guilty.” 

Thankfully the lasagne topic fizzled out after a couple more minutes, your cold sweat having time to dissipate while you chatted and ate together comfortably. However a few minutes later you noticed Seokjin fidgeting slightly in his seat. You politely ignored it to begin with, unsure if you were just imagining it, but then he started itching the back of his neck. You put your fork down, a sick feeling washing over you. “Is anything wrong?” You asked, now watching him itch up his forearm. “Seokjin?”

He looked at you in mild confusion, eyebrows creasing together as he opened his mouth. “Are you sure there wasn’t any garlic in this?” 

You swallowed away the panic racing up your throat. “I’m sure.” You’d read the back of that jar and then read it some more. “I’m positive.” 

… Weren’t you? You watched him scoot his chair back, leaning down to start scratching the back of his calves. He made noises of discomfort as he did so. 

“Oh, no…” You were up before you could stop yourself, racing around him to start hunting in the recycling for the glass jar. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

You could hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, sounding alarmed, but you were too panicked to really take it in. You needed to be sure. This was just your second date, you couldn’t ruin things already. Turning him into one giant itchy red blob had not been your intention.  

“I was only teasing you.” Still, his words didn’t sink in. That was until you felt a hand on your elbow, tugging gently for your attention. 

You spun around, worried eyes wide – even wider when you found him so close. He was on his feet too, bent a little to level with you, pretty much within kissing distance. His voice was soft when he spoke, you found yourself distracted by his mouth. “Y/N, I was just messing around.”

You blinked, not truly understanding with all those annoying distractions zooming around your mind, but slowly you pieced his words together. Oh. Despite the relief you felt, now you just felt silly. Plus, he was still so close to you… 

You took a step back, the small of your back pressing up against the counter. You needed a clear head. “Don’t freak me out like that.” You told him, but you still sighed in relief, hand against your chest. “I thought I’d poisoned you.” 

He looked a little concerned, but you could tell by his eyes he found your reaction amusing. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

“Make me laugh? You nearly gave me heart failure.” However, you gave him what he wanted, a laugh that sounded weak and shaky, but it was something – you did see the funny side. 

He joined you, shoulders relaxing now that he knew you were okay. He looked behind you, eyes on the trashcan, a bemused smile on his face. “What were you looking for anyway?”

“The jar.” You answered, as if it wasn’t obvious. You turned, deciding to fish it out anyway. Holding it up to him, you were adamant. “See, no garlic. Check.” 

He chuckled. “I already said I was joking.” He took one look at your desperate expression and gave in, taking the jar from your hand. “But if it makes you feel better…” You watched him as he read the label, silently soaking in his handsome features. He looked softer tonight, the curve of his jaw rounding as he smiled. It took you a moment to realise he was done. He handed the jar back to you, and you prayed to God he hadn’t caught you staring at him all gooey-eyed. “It’s fine.” He confirmed. “I’ll be itch free tonight.” 

You smiled and plopped the glass back inside the can. “I looked around town for hour trying to find lasagne sauce sans garlic.” 

He looked guilty. “I’m sorry for being awkward.” Then he paused, eyes narrowing, the hint of a smirk itching at the corners of his mouth. “But… Y/N, are you a fraud?” Huh? What did he mean? You didn’t need to wait long for an explanation. “I thought a certified chef would cook up a batch of her own tomato sauce.”

Oh. You’d gone and put your foot in it, hadn’t you? It was probably time to explain yourself… “I have a confession,” you began, sounding wary. Seokjin looked interested albeit it mildly confused. “I… may have told a little white lie.”

He shook his head, a puff of laughter leaving him. “You’ve lost me.” 

You took a deep breath, knowing you were going to have to spell it out for him. “I’ve never made lasagne before. Ever. In my entire life.” 

He looked confused as silence spread out between you. He sounded it too when he spoke again. “Then why did you say it was your speciality?”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands for one dramatic moment. “I panicked.” Peeking at him, you babbled on. “I know it sounds stupid but Soojung was curtain twitching and it was stressing me out and then you were asking me what I cooked and lasagne just popped into my head!”

Seokjin blinked, his mouth twitched and then he was laughing – loudly. 

“You find it funny?” You asked, relaxing a tad. 

“Very.” He laughed harder but seeing the look of bafflement on your face he tried is best to still it. 

“I’ve been practicing it like crazy,” you whined, happy you could finally tell him all about your lasagne struggles. “This is my fourth time eating it this week. Soojung nearly killed me.” You snorted at the memory. This started up Seokjin again. “And then I forgot you were allergic to garlic. Your text reminded me this morning and I had to rush out to the grocery store.” 

He was weak at the knees at that, and you were laughing just because he was. It was contagious. “Stop,” you wailed, attempting to get a hold of yourself. This week had actually been quite traumatic. “I’m glad you find it funny, I’ve been in constant stress ever since you drove off last week.” 

“I can’t help it.” He chuckled, although he did sound apologetic. “You’re just so adorable.” The air that settled around his effortless admission made your skin prickle. When he carried on, his tone was gentle. “You know I wouldn’t have minded if you changed the menu to something else, right?” 

You pouted ever so slightly. “But you were looking forward to it.” 

He gave a small shrug. “True, but… that was more so code for ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’ The food was just a bonus. I’d be happy with a Big Mac.” 

You felt your cheeks burn and you tried to shake yourself out of it. “So embarrassing,” you murmured. You didn’t know what for… The lasagne mess or the fact he could have this much of an effect of you? You were inclined to go with the latter. 

“What about the no-garlic bread?” Seokjin asked, changing the subject a little. Maybe he’d sensed your embarrassment and didn’t want to make it worse. He was sweet. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Well, I didn’t bake the bread. I just toasted it.” It was still a speciality of yours though. “It would’ve been much tastier with the garlic.” 

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. This body wants to turn me into a miserable old man.” 

Pfft. Old? Miserable? He was anything but. 

“Sit,” he prompted you, smiling as he motioned with his head to the table. “Finish your World famous Italian lasagne before it grows cold.” 

As you moved he delicately cupped his hand around the curve your waist, giving it a soft squeeze before he got to his chair first. Your stomach flipped, head dizzy as you sat and tucked your chair in. Last Saturday popped into your head, the way you’d loosely held hands outside and how you were sure he’d been leaning in to kiss you – properly. 

You knew one thing. You really wanted to kiss him tonight. 

Trying to get a hold of yourself, you glanced at him, catching his eyes. He was already tucking in again, and he grinned bashfully, as if embarrassed. “This really is great. All that practice paid off.” A pause. “You should show me how you cooked it sometime.” 

Your face lit up in surprise. “You cook?” In the back of your mind you were aware that he’d probably been hinting for a third date, but you were so shocked by the possibly of Seokjin cooking you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He chuckled quietly. “I mean, when I have time and can be bothered. I like cooking but it’s just easier to go to a restaurant or get it delivered.” He looked sheepish before adding, “Or Misook does it for me.” 

There was no shame when it came to that. Seokjin probably worked all hours of the day, no one could expect him to tie on an apron when he got home and start pulling out pots and pans. 

“Do you cook a lot?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Soojung and I take it in turns.” 

“So what is your speciality?” He smiled. 

This time around you were in your right mind and able to answer properly. “Veggie tacos.” 

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Then he tried again. “Can you make them for me sometime?”

He was persistent, you’d give him that. You shrugged, trying your best to sound impassive but the little smirk gave it away. “Maybe if you say please…” 

He laughed, leaning forward, a hand clasping yours as he tilted his head. The piece of curled hair falling into his left eye. “Please?”

Your heart did another little dance inside your chest. 

.

. 

After dessert you both made your way back to the living room, settling on your couch with two pomegranate mocktails Taehyung had prepared for you yesterday. All you had to do was add the pomegranate juice and lemonade to the ice cubes and crushed lime segments and mint before serving, easy-peasy. Seokjin was highly impressed, but of course you couldn’t take the credit. It was all down to your best friend’s very helpful barman boyfriend. 

You were glad Seokjin wanted to stay as you didn’t want the night to be over yet. It had flown by so fast and you’d had so much fun. You already felt like you knew him better, even after only two dates. It was strange to you, how you could feel so relaxed in a stranger’s company, but then again, you guessed he wasn’t a stranger anymore… Plus, he was so easy to talk to, so interesting to get to know…. Everything between you two came easy. 

Like opening up to him, being a bit more vulnerable… 

“I’ve been slightly nervous all week,” you admitted, clutching your drink to you before chuckling softly. “– and not just about the lasagne faux pas…” 

“There was no need to be nervous. I thought we left all that behind on the first date,” Seokjin reassured, smiling warmly your way. 

You were sat together, turned to face one another. It was intimate and cosy. He had one leg lifted, the ankle resting on the knee of the other leg, and where his pants had ridden up, you could see an inch or so of his calf before it met the black cotton of his sock. For some reason, you found that very, very sexy. Maybe you had been single for far too long. 

“We did,” you agreed, hesitating slightly. “It’s just… I haven’t done anything like this in so long.” 

You didn’t even think you’d ever invited someone around for dinner before. You were still quite young when you found yourself in a relationship with Donghae so your dates before him had been very basic. Your dates with him hadn’t really classed as such just because you became official fairly quickly, and your dates after him, well, it was already known that they had been few and far between. 

“You already know we’re in the same boat,” he smiled before chuckling bashfully. “No, but really, when I asked you for dinner that day at the fate I was expecting you to turn me down.” 

“How come?”

He looked down at his drink, lifting a shoulder. “I thought you’d think that I was crossing a line… or maybe the spark I was feeling was all in my head and in reality you just found me really annoying.” 

That was cute. He’d been doubting himself. Human after all. Not that you’d ever thought he wasn’t. You still didn’t miss the opportunity to joke around though. “I mean, both can exist simultaneously.” He taking a sip of his mocktail when you replied so he ended up snorting into his glass, amused by your wit. 

A moment or so passed and Seokjin gazed at you, smiling softly. If he kept this up, you’d be a puddle on your parquet flooring. “So, tell me,” he hummed. “How did I luck out so good?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. “How come an amazing person like you isn’t married or in a relationship?”

He must’ve seen the slight shock on your face and panicked instantly. “Is that a weird thing to ask? I feel like it is. I apologise.”

“No,” you insisted, sitting up a little straighter. He followed. “No, it’s not.” You wanted to open up to him. You really did. You just didn’t know where to start. Although, it was pretty simple. “I’ve been single for a while.” 

“How long?” Seokjin was instantly focused, attentive, noticing the change in your body language. 

“Three years. My last relationship didn’t end very well.” You paused, wondering if you should continue. But then… It had been a massive part of your life. No matter how much time had passed and no matter how okay you were now, it had still happened. And Seokjin, he had trusted you enough to open up about his divorce – even before you’d gone on your first date. You wanted to talk about it. You really did. 

“I found out my fiancé was cheating on me.”  

Seokjin’s eyes widened, unable to cloak his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “It was rough getting over it. Took me a while, but it is what it is. It’s in the past now.” 

“Did it put you off dating?” 

You were pleasantly surprised to find it was actually easy to talk to Seokjin about this. Your mouth was opening before you had to think about it. “I mean, at first. I was still very much in love with him, even after he broke my heart. But I got over him and I started dating again – briefly – It just didn’t feel right.” You stopped to smile. “It’s been over a year and I can’t say I missed it… but you…” Nerves growing, you pushed them away. “You’ve changed that. I’m having fun.” 

Seokjin’s face lit up and he chuckled. “I did hit second date status after all.” 

“You did…” 

“So,” he leaned closer, a small smirk on his face. “You could say, hitting your car that day wasn’t actually my fault because it was supposed to happen.” 

You snorted as you laughed, head falling against the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

He made a sound. “But we wouldn’t have met otherwise.” 

“We would!” You exclaimed. “The parent-teacher meeting.” 

He blinked, feeling dumb. “Oh, yeah.” 

It wouldn’t have had the same effect, granted, but you would have become acquainted with one another regardless. “Would you have still liked me?” You asked without thinking, surprising yourself. 

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I was instantly attracted to you after all, it’s just…” Instantly attracted? Definitely a charmer... “There would’ve been no way for me to get to know you like I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re really adamant that you had to reverse into my car to make this work, huh.”

He shrugged casually. “It was the only way.” 

You laughed quietly, finishing the last of your drink. Time was getting on, it was pretty late, Seokjin had already finished his, you watched him sit up to lean forward and place the glass on your coffee table. His shirt tightened across his shoulder blades and you could see his back muscles as he stretched. Oh.  

Settling back into the same position, he looked over at you and grinned. His teeth were perfect. Did this man have zero flaws? Why were you so whipped? It was embarrassing. 

“I had fun tonight,” you told him, trying to keep a lid on whatever was going on with you right now. 

He seemed pleased with that, nodding his head. “I’m happy to hear that you think I’m a fun person.” 

You scoffed, body falling closer to his. Your shoulders brushed together. Seokjin didn’t take his eyes off you. “Hm. I don’t think I said that.” 

“Hey, don’t be so mean.” He murmured, one side of his mouth quirking up. 

Like you couldn’t stop yourself, your hand reached for the collar of shirt. He had the top two buttons loose and your pinkie finger brushed against his collarbone. Sparks flew, but you tried to ignore them. “I thought you liked it when I was mean.” You teased, voice low. 

Seokjin hummed, his eyes still twinkled like they always did but there was something else to them, a depth that made you feel funny. He sunk closer to you. So close you could study the thick curve of his eyelashes, notice that both his eyelids were different. He really did have beautiful eyes. You could stare at them forever. 

Preoccupied, you slowly realised that he was watching you too, studying your features in the golden glow of the floor lamp that hovered over the couch. His lips parted, you heard them rather than saw it, but then your attention was on them again. Just like it had been earlier on in the night. He was staring at yours too as he spoke. “I wanted to kiss you last week.” 

You heartbeat quickened but you tried to keep cool. “You did kiss me.” You laughed. 

He sighed. “On the cheek.”  

You lightly tugged his collar, fingertips now brushing the skin of his chest. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do?”

You could feel his own heartbeat against your forearm that was pressed into him. It was definitely running a little faster than it was supposed to – stronger. “Yes, but…” He glanced up to your eyes. “I was just being polite. I wanted to kiss your lips.”

It felt like you were holding your breath. Maybe you were, you just couldn’t think straight. Time seemed to stretch out, but you knew what you wanted. So you went after it. Giving him a small smile, you replied. “Maybe I wanted that too.” 

He swallowed, voice so low now it was barely a murmur. “Is that an invitation?” His eyes bounced to your lips again, then back to your eyes as he asked permission. “Can I kiss you?”

You ever so slightly dragged your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you nodded, breath catching in your throat as Seokjin leaned forward and closed the distance between you. The hand in between your bodies moved to delicately hold the wrist of your arm against his chest, holding you there as his other hand reached for your jaw, angling your face to press a kiss to your mouth. His eyes were already closed so you followed. 

He hummed at the contact, his lips soft and warm and you let yourself sink. His actions were light at first, faint as he kept constant pressure, as if he was familiarising himself with the sensation. You couldn’t even let yourself think about how this was the first kiss you’d shared with someone for a very long time. All that was going through your mind was how good it felt to be touched like this by him. 

He readjusted the hand on your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to cup your cheek. You liked that. You liked it when he touched you, and he eased from your mouth completely before coming back with a firmer pressure. It was your turn to make a sound; a tiny gasp as your lips began to move together ever so slowly. He liked that, a hum of satisfaction vibrating against the soft skin of your lips. You clutched at his shirt, gathering the crisp cotton in your fist, that would surely turn it creased, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too preoccupied with reaching for the glass you’d forgotten was hugged to your body by your free hand. 

He unclasped it from your fingers and had no choice but to break away from your mouth to put it next to his on the coffee table. You whined, attempting to tug him back to you, and he chuckled, taking a hold of one of your hands. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, leaning forward to place the cocktail glass down. 

And he was. 

This time he used both of his hands to grasp your face and dive back in. He was more confident this time, moving in such a way his lips pried yours open. You reached for his shoulders, grasping them to hold him closer and this time you both made noises – sweet, quiet ones that worked beautiful together as your lips moulded with gradual urgency. 

When your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers through his hair, he had to drag the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You met it with yours, tasting hints of pomegranate and lime with each wash of tongue. A hand of his slipped down to your side, stroking up and down the curve as if he couldn’t help but to touch you. He settled at your hip after a moment, the other splayed against the side of your neck, his thumb rolling small circles under your cheekbone. 

This was getting addictive. You could tell by the way you moaned softly against each warm, wet curl of his tongue. This was everything you’d imagined and more – because you had imagined it. Late and secretly at night when you were trying to drift off to sleep and thoughts of lasagne were banished… You were glad your first kiss was here, inside, on your couch, because this wasn’t something for the open, your knees wouldn’t have been able to hold you up. 

You could have kissed him forever, you mean, you definitely didn’t want it to stop but you pretty much had to. Breathing was a necessity, right? If you couldn’t breathe you wouldn’t be able to ever kiss Seokjin again and that would be absolutely awful… 

You did it the right way though – gradually. Seokjin slowed it right down, only hints of his tongue left as he hummed indulgently, like he was savouring your taste before he had to inevitably pull away. It made your insides jump around like crazy, hearing him enjoying himself, and you tried your best to come to when he started easing the pressure of his lips, pressing small, chaste kisses to them instead as you ultimately (but slowly) broke apart. 

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, hands falling from his hair, aware you had become one with your cushions. You struggled to free yourself as he sat back and you watched him smile fondly at you. His breath was shaky – so was yours, and you were sure his hands trembled slightly as one reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His neck that was blotched with red, flushed, travelling to his cheeks. They were rosier than you’d ever seen them before. Your gut stirred. 

“I’ve been dreaming of that,” he told you, before making a face at himself. “Too cringey?” 

You giggled – it sounded foreign. “Just a bit.” But didn’t deter the fact you loved it. 

You warmed when you felt him squeeze your hip, realising his hand was still there and you reached for it, tangling your fingers with his. He pulled them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly. His expression was thoughtful when he lowered your hands. “In all seriousness, thank you for giving me a chance, after well, you know, everything.”

You smiled, touched by his earnestness, but it was hard to keep a sane mind when his lips were as kiss bitten as they were – deep pink and glistening. You wanted to kiss his face off. 

“It’s no problem,” you quipped, as if you were doing him a favour. 

He chuckled tenderly, and luckily for you he was unable to stop himself from kissing you again. He reached forward, hooking a finger under your chin to press his mouth to yours softly. “I’d really love if we could keep on doing… this.” He murmured. 

“The dating or the kissing,” you grinned, stealing another kiss in the process. 

“Hm,” he contemplated. “Both preferably.” 

And then you were on one another again, eager once more. 

Although, you did manage to pull away briefly to tell him something, his mouth moving to the side of your face to kiss there instead as your hands dragged down his back. You were somehow able to get the words out – ones that made him laugh against your wet jaw. 

“I’m so glad you hit my car.” 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[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 ]

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating for so long. I know I said I’d try to update more frequently while I was on uni break but life happened lmao. Classes are back, but I’ll try not left y’all hanging for so long.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You, Smells like petrichor and paper, The Sound of Music and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, part one, two, three, four and five of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

That being said, I hope y’all enjoy this chapter! We got a little bit of fluff, sprinkles of angst and a lovely plot twist ✨

Bloody Day and Ominous letters

Nesta woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her entire life. She really should not have drunk as much as she had last night but as she saw her friends and Morrigan having fun that little voice inside her head — usually her mother’s or grandmother's saying Do better, Stop being such a disappointment or Your only purpose is to marry well so forget about love — got louder and louder, judging her company and trying to make her feel ashamed.

But she had had enough. Her grandmother and mother had both passed away already. It was time to bury them for good. So Nesta took the wine bottle from Morrigan and drank half of it in one go, her friends cheering around her. And she had so much fun. Nesta would never have guessed that drinking could be so enjoyable, nothing like those uptight parties where the ladies sipped a lonely glass all night long while the gentleman lost count of theirs. The only downside was her killing headache and the fact that she had overslept, a fact she took notice of once she glanced at the wall clock.

She had just sat up on her bed —  massaging her temple to ease the tension on her head — when an insistent knocking on her door made her mumble a curse. No doubt it was either Emerie or Gwyn — maybe both of them — waking her up. Those two were quite used to drinking, so it was no surprise to Nesta that they would be up and about very early.

“Would you two stop it?” she said loudly, opening the door wearing only her chemise, probably having ditched her dress during the night while she slept “I have a killer headache and your banging is not helping at all—”

She stopped mid sentence when she came face to face with Georgianam, the young lady’s hand still raised to knock on her door, Cassian right behind her.

“Oh, I apologise Lady Nesta” Georgiana said “We had agreed that we would go on a nice early morning walk today, but when I did not spot Miss Archeron at the breakfast table I got worried.”

“Please do forgive me, Miss Georgiana. I had a bit too much to drink yesterday and ended up oversleeping.” Nesta quickly said, mentally kicking herself for her rudeness “I will be ready for our walk in a minute.”

“Lovely! I will be waiting at the parlor then!”

Nesta closed the door with a sigh. Her morning had not begun the best.

However, it was only while she was brushing her hair that her sleep fogged mind caught up to the fact that Cassian had seen her half asleep wearing nothing but her chemise and with early morning messy bed hair.

She definitely could not be allowed to drink more than two glasses of alcohol if that was how she was going to behave whenever she drank more than deemed proper.

When she arrived at the parlor ten minutes later, she could not help but avoid looking at Cassian.

“Mrs. Potts brought you a little something to eat” Georgiana informed, pouring Nesta tea “And also some headache medicine”

“Please thank her in my instead later, she is too kind to me”

“Oh, it was all my brother’s doing” Georgiana smiled in Cassian's direction, serving herself some cookies “He was the one who asked her to provide not only the medicine but also the food.”

“I appreciate the gesture, my lord.” Nesta hid her blush behind the teacup.

“It was nothing, my lady” was all he answered, refusing to look at her.

That made Nesta’s heart strangely hurt. She could not help but think he had been disgusted by her earlier appearance. Her hair was such a mess and her chemise was all wrinkled from sleep—

Wait. Why did she care so much of what he thought of her? Nesta Archeron was not one to give much attention to others opinion of herself, so why was she getting so worked up when it came to Cassian? Of course, one could not help but notice how he always looked so presentable, with his spotless clothes, hair combed to perfection every single time. She had never seen a gentleman’s hair be so… perfect. She could bet her first edition of her favourite romance that he had awfully handsome bed hair. And that he had a mint breath even when woke up. And that he probably slept shirtless, if the last time she saw him at midnight at his library was any indication of his sleeping attire.

Oh Mother, why was she now thinking about all of that? She waved an imaginary hand to disperse her not so proper thoughts, focusing on the small talk Georgiana was making.

Both Nesta and Cassian kept avoiding each other during their walk, which did not pass by Georgiana without notice, especially given how her brother had made sure to stay two steps behind them, giving the excuse he wanted to give both ladies “privacy to talk comfortably”, something he had never done. Their walk, however, was cut short when Nesta showed signs of being tired and admitted that her headache had not disappeared.

“I assure you it is nothing to fret over” Nesta told a worried Mrs. Potts when they came back “It must be from yesterday’s drinking. There is no need to call a doctor.”

“Nonetheless, I will ask Chef Ramsay to prepare some light food and my special hangover drink” the old headmaid said with a motherly expression.

Thanking Mrs. Potts again, Nesta went to her room to splash some water on her face in hopes of refreshing herself. But a painful jab low on her stomach made her freeze and the blood drain from her face.

~•~

“Just knock on the door, my Lord” Lumière said as he watched Cassian drop his hand once again. The maître d’ had been watching his lord pace in front of the parlor door for what must have been twenty minutes.

“I do not want to bother her. Maybe I should call Mrs. Potts or wait until the other ladies come back” Cassian ran his hand through his hair in distress. Emerie and Balthazar had gone out with Morrigan to visit some possible new business partners — her big circle of connections proving itself to be very useful in helping expand their business — while Azriel and Gwyn had gone to the town, which was helding a small music festival. Georgiana, on the other hand, had received a telegram from a friend who had returned early from their trip abroad, and she had promptly gone to meet them.

“This, dear brother, is your chance to speak to Miss Nesta” she had said before leaving “I do not know what happened to make you both so distant, but you better make amends. I already asked Emerie to design the gown I shall wear at your wedding.”

Cassian had told Georgie to mind her own business and stop being such a busybody, proceeding to stand guard outside the parlor.

“Leave the lord alone” Cogsworth hissed, elbowing Lumiére “Her ladyship has not asked for help so it must mean she is fine and does not wish to be bothered.”

“Nonsense, old friend!! The lady is simply too shy to ask for it and the lord too polite to risk disturbing her” taking a step forward, Lumière knocked on the door.

“What do you think you are doing?!” the major-domo whisper yelled, and Cassian was sure he would have throttled Lumière were it not for the faint voice coming from the other side.

“Please, do come in” Nesta said.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian opened the door, leaving behind Cogsworth and Lumière, who were trying very hard not to start a duel right there.

The first thing he looked for was Nesta.

Nesta, who was rather pale and was clutching a pillow very hard against her stomach.

“Are you alright?” he asked, not knowing whether to sit beside her or just stay standing a few feet away.

“I am” she said, although the deep breath she took had him thinking it was not true “Where are Gwyn and Emerie?”

“Gwyn went to the town festival with Azriel. An Emerie went with Mor and Balthazar to meet prospective business partners.”

“Are you really alright Nesta?” he asked again “You do not seem fine at all if I may say.”

“I assure you I am perfectly fine” Nesta insisted through clenched teeth “Where is Georgiana?”

“At a friend’s house. They returned early from a trip.” Cassian said, a bit annoyed she was asking for his sister when he was right there. It was a stupid jealous feeling, and he was not even more annoyed because he felt glad they got on so well.

“Do you know when any of them will be back?”

“I am afraid I do not know” daring to approach her, Cassian sat beside her on the sofa “But I am here. If there is anything I could do…”

“There is no need to bother yourself. I truly am—”

And that was when Nesta whimpered and clutched her pillow even tighter, doubling over a little bit.

“You are definitely far from fine sweetheart” Cassian said, rubbing her back in hopes of helping her, nevermind proper etiquette.

“It is really nothing. Just—”

“Just what?”

“Lady stuff!!” Nesta finally said, her whole face heating up like a fireplace.

“Oh. Oh! I see. I— I understand” he said, also a little bit flustered “Not that I actually get it but I have also experienced pain and—”

Nesta wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She was used to getting her period, it was a monthly occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, this time it seemed her body had decided to punish her more than usual. Not only had she gotten a killer headache — made worse by her hangover —  but she was cramping very badly, and they usually were not that bad. That was why she had gone to that walk with Georgiana, even though she was getting mildly uncomfortable soon after they arrived at the garden.

Not that she did not want to miss any Cassian time.

Him going with them had been a bonus.

A surprise, but not a pleasant one.

Maybe just a bit pleasant if she was being honest. Just a tiny tiny bit.

“I will stop talking now” Cassian mumbled, interrupting not for the first time her errant thoughts.

She wanted to die. To tell Cassian — even indirectly —  that she had gotten her period was the most mortifying she had ever experienced.

“I can get Mrs. Potts for you” he tentatively said, restarting the back rubs “She can get you some tea for pain. Or a bag of warm water. You can tell her anything, do not worry.”

Nesta managed to nod her head in agreement, despite her stubborn side that refused to ask for help from the maids or other servants at Pemberley.

Cassian himself went looking for the head maid instead of just ringing for her, assuring her he would be back in less than ten minutes. And he did come back in record time with Mrs. Potts, who gave her tea and pain tonic that she assured Nesta made wonders for stopping cramps. All the while Cassian hovered over Mrs. Potts, unsure of what to do.

“Do you require anything else? Maybe another blanket?” he asked after Mrs. Potts had left. He had made sure to bring back a blanket too and had even tucked her in with extra care “Or more tea? I can ask someone to come and bring fresh hot tea”

Nesta would never have imagined Cassian to be such an overbearing mother hen. He was being extra careful around her and it annoyed her beyond reason.

“Cassian, this happens every month. Has been happening since I was thirteen, alright? Can you please stop?” she snapped.

She regretted her words as soon as she realised how rude she had been and what exactly she had said. However, he was being so overweening. As if she was made of glass or was on her deathbed.

Yet all Cassian did was crack a smile and nudge a chocolate muffin towards her. Nesta had been in such pain and so quiet he had been concerned if Mrs. Potts’ pain tonic would really work. But there she was.

There was the feisty, sharp tongued and quick-witted Nesta he knew.

There was the Nesta he fell in love with.

He barely held his tongue back and risked blutering his feelings right in front of her. Again.

“May I get you a book then? It is a good way to pass the time until your friends are back.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely” Nesta gave him a soft smile, her previous embarrassment having died down a little.

He was gone and back in a record time, and Nesta delusioned herself into thinking he had raced to the library because he did not want to leave her for too long.

“I got the book you were not able to finish last night” Cassian said, handing her Sellyn Drake’s latest romance “And I also took the liberty of getting one of my favourites too. In case you finish this one quickly.”

She thanked him again, curious as to what book was his favourite, what made her even eager to finish her current read.

Turns out Cassian was a fan of epic poems, a fact that — combined with his admission of having read Sellyn Drake’s romances — once again made Nesta view him with new eyes. She had thought he would be more of a war strategy person, all business and serious matters. Yet it seemed that Cassian had a dreamer inside of him.

“How many times have you read this book?” Nesta asked as she turned a yellowed page. The book was old, but she could see it was very loved given its good condition.

“A lot of times. It was my favourite book as a child, and I could not part with it once I moved out of my childhood home” he gave her a smile “It was also my dear companion during long expeditions. I have most of it memorized.”

“I bet you charmed every single lady during your travels with your knowledge, wooing them with beautiful words” she teased, despite the small pang of jealousy in her heart.

You refused his hand and humiliated him, she thought, you have no place to feel jealous. Cassian is a wonderful gentleman, it is expected to have women falling left and right for him, not to say him pursuing them.

“You are actually the first person apart from my family who knows that I read poetry” Cassian admitted “And I also have never met someone that made me want to declare a poem to”

Nesta did not know what to say to that. They were bordering dangerous territory, something that seemed to happen more and more frequently.

And Cassian, seated right beside her, was thinking the same thing. He had allowed himself to get closer to him again, something that yesterday he had vowed to avoid, had tried to do that morning. But to see her in pain, uncomfortable and not talking to him hurt more than those moments in which he could see a life with her. Those moments with Nesta were a double edged sword: he craved and loathed them with the same urgency.

He would kill to have even a single moment with her.

He would die if he had even a single moment with her.

Nesta made him want to be selfish.

Made him want to declare poems to her, maybe even attempt to write her one.

At the moment, he could not help but recall a certain verse of the Epic of Gilgamesh:

What could I offer

the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?

Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?

I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.

You are the door through which the cold gets in.

You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch

that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.

You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe

that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall

that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky

water skin soaking the water skin carrier.

To Cassian, Nesta was the goddess of love. And he was the one who could not offer her a single thing for she lacked nothing.

“Well, I will not disturb your reading any longer” clearing his throat to break the new tense silence between them, Cassian gestured to the book in her hand “But do feel free to make comments while you read, I would very much like to hear your opinions about it.”

And she did just that. Every passage she found interesting, each line that caught her eye and interpretation she had about a certain phrase, she shared them all with Cassian. Somewhere during their conversation that awkward tension between them disappeared completely, with Cassian letting his arm rest on the back of the couch, getting closer to Nesta. And Nesta somehow ended up getting closer to him too, almost leaning on his side.

It was all very improper. Cassian staying alone with Nesta, so close to each other and acting as a married couple.

But Cassian would let himself be selfish one last time.

One last time before they had to go their separate ways.

~•~

The day would have ended perfectly were it not for the letter that Gwyn brought once she and Azriel had come back.

While Emerie, Balthazar and Mor had arrived late in the evening — with good news of new partnerships being agreed on —  Gwyn and Azriel had come back much later, just when everyone had finished dinner. Nesta had not been too worried, she trusted Azriel to take care of Gwyn and her friend was not bound by the stifling high society etiquette, but she breathed a little easier when they finally arrived.

“Oh Nesta, we passed by the inn we were staying at before and the landlady gave me a letter addressed to you. It seems she had forgotten to send it to us yesterday when our things were brought here.” Gwyn gave her the letter once they had moved to the game room “She apologised deeply for it.”

“I understand, it is a busy season for them.”

“It is a letter from Feyre” Nesta furrowed her brows in confusion as she broke the letter’ seal, which she recognized as being the one representing Feyre’ status as Duchess “She sent one barely a week ago, I wonder what could have happened.”

Nesta had guessed it would be another letter from Feyre asking about how their trip was going, if she had seen beautiful scenarios and bought any souvenir for her youngest sister. Or even a curious inquiry about what she thought of Cassian. Feyre had been quite interested to know if they got along — she had always been a busybody and matchmaker, and since marrying Rhysand had tried time and time again to nonchalantly push her to Cassin. If she ever discovered that Nesta had already been proposed by Cassian — and that she had refused his hand — chaos would befall upon Nesta.

However, as her eyes scanned the lines, Nesta’s assumptions of its contents proved to be far away from reality. She felt her blood run cold, her heart stop beating and fear. So much fear.

“Excuse me” she managed to say, getting up “I need a moment.”

“Nesta, are you alright? What did Feyre say? You are very pale” Gwyn said, her voice full of worry.

“I am fine. Just cramps” she brushed off her friend’s worries. She did not want to make the others notice that something was off with her, she did not want to alarm Gwyn..

Yet as she exited the room she failed to perceive that Cassian had been paying attention to her ever since Gwyn gave her the letter. He was always paying attention to his surroundings, especially when she was around.

He left the room a few moments after her, trying not to raise suspicion to his attitude. He did not know where she had gone — Pemberley was vast and her room was too far away for him to not have caught her faster — but something led him to the small outdoor patio just left from the small gallery he had at Pemberley.

As he got closer and closer there, he heard the sound of someone crying, which made his heart beat faster and a deep fear grow inside him.

He arrived outside to find an unimaginable scene: Nesta crying. Crying as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

She was a mess, her careful braided hair coming undone, as if she had ran her hands through it in desperation.

“Nesta… Nes dear, what happened? Is Feyre alright?” Cassian did not care that she most probably left the room to cry in private. He was worried, he needed to be beside her, he needed to help her somehow.

“I— Feyre she—” she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, let alone talk, making Cassian’s heart break in a thousand pieces.

“Shh it’s okay sweetheart. I am here Nes” he gently cupped her face, making her look at him “Take deep breaths with me.”

He took a deep breath, holding it in for three seconds before letting it go. He kept doing it until Nesta did the same, slowly calming down.

“Can you talk now? Do you want me to fetch you some water?” Cassian asked, tenderly brushing off her remaining tears.

“No, I— I can talk now” Nesta took another breath “Feyre is alright. It is Elain.”

“Elain? Is she sick? Talk to me Nes, help me understand”

Elain was the picture of the perfect lady in high society. With her numerous suitors, lovely and delicate behaviour — not to mention her singular beauty — it was hard to find someone who did not like her. Given that her hobbies — cooking and gardening — did not pose a threat to her health and well being, Cassian could not understand what would have made Nesta react so strongly. Perhaps Elain had fallen ill, something that rarely happened.

“No. She is not sick” Nesta shook her head “Cauldron, I almost wished she was sick.”

“Elain was…. Elain was kidnapped” she added, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Kidnapped? How?”

That made no sense, who would kidnap Elain? And why?

“She was going to visit Feyre. And when she didn't show up Rhysand went to search for her and—” Nesta started to cry, desperation filling her voice “They found her carriage turned over and hidden near the outskirts of the city. No sign of her at all.”

Cassian was speechless. He could only imagine how Feyre must be feeling after she got the news and hoped Rhysand was doing his everything to help find Elain.

“The coachman was killed and her lady in waiting was rushed to the hospital.” she cried even harder “This is all my fault. I should never have left her. We have no male relatives and Feyre is living too far from our childhood home. I was supposed to take care of her.”

“Nesta, it is not your fault. You could never have guessed something like this could happen.” he looked deep in her eyes, the blue in them even brighter because of her tears “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I am afraid there isn’t, '' she whispered “I have to go back home. Try to hire an investigator, talk to Feyre and hope Elain is not disgraced by society rumors. Hope she is alive”

Cassian could only nod in agreement and wait for Nesta to recompose herself before they went back inside. Their friends were as horrified and worried about the situation as he and Nesta, and decided to go back right that moment. The staff noticed something was amiss and made sure to ready the carriage in record time.

“Thank you for welcoming you at your home” Nesta said, her complexion a bit better “I can assure you we all had a wonderful time here.”

“It was my pleasure. Have a safe travel and remember that Pemberey is open to you and your friends whenever you want to visit” Cassian helped Nesta get on her carriage one last time, letting go of her hand begrudgingly.

And as Nesta and her friends got farther and farther from Pemberley, as Nesta got farther and farther away from him and took his heart with her, Cassian felt a calm fury settle inside him.

He had some letters to write to some old friends.

•

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[retrogradedreaming]

for the prompts/headcanons,, how about something abt cherry with allergies? (to food/animals/plants/whatever i'm not picky skdhgjf) also if you want to turn it into matchablossom somehow i would not be opposed

It started with his eyes. At first, Kaoru thought he was tired, too many late nights spent working and performing long overdue updates on Carla. But when a sneeze ruined the last character on his last commission of the day, he nearly threw his brush across the room. Instead, he abandoned his work, grudgingly cleaning up and watering the flowers he’d gotten from a client before he left for Sia la Luce. If any day warranted wine, it was this one.

And yet, when he got there, he wondered whether it had been worth it after all. His mood had long since soured, as had his appetite, and the look Kojiro gave him as soon as he stepped through the door only helped it along.

“You look awful,” Kojiro said as Kaoru took his customary seat at the counter and took up the bottle of wine to pour himself a glass.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion, nosey gorilla,” Kaoru snapped, and god, he sounded awful, too. The dull pressure behind his eyes had bloomed into a headache, and he wondered vaguely if maybe he was coming down with something. It would make sense, he thought, given that he’d just had one of his busiest—and, consequently, one of the most stressful—weeks in a long time, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten sick as soon as he let himself relax.

“Hey, you’re the one who came here,” Kojiro said, reaching across the counter for the bottle of wine and pouring his own glass. “If you don’t like my opinion, you don’t have to stay.”

Kaoru opened his mouth to retort, but sneezed instead, angling away from his wine at the last second. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sniffling sharply in lieu of a verbal response.

“Gross,” Kojiro said, dropping a handkerchief in front of Kaoru. “People eat here, you know.”

“Well, maybe you should clean better, if you’re so worried about it,” Kaoru quipped, though he accepted the offering. He pressed the material to his face, silently lamenting that he couldn’t smell anything, nor could he taste the wine as it warmed his throat all the way down. Kojiro leaned across the counter on his elbows, studying Kaoru with a single raised brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kojiro said innocently. “Just wondering what set you off so bad.”

“What do you mean?” Kaoru asked, frowning and tucking Kojiro’s handkerchief in his pocket. He didn’t doubt that he’d need it later.

“Seriously? You get like this every spring,” Kojiro said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kaoru said, even as he ran through a mental list of all possible things he’d come into contact with over the day. He didn’t have any events, and he’d spent most of the day in his studio working on commissions and taking client calls. “It’s not spring now, so there’s nothing…” He trailed off as it dawned on him.

The flowers.

He’d set them on the table yesterday after Mx. Suzuki sent them to thank him for the last project he’d done for them. He’d been so busy that he’d hardly done more than glance at them long enough to deem them suitable for display. He hadn’t even considered that he might be allergic to them, even as they sat right next to him all day. That’s what he got for getting so absorbed in his work, he supposed.

“If you really think you’re getting sick, I can make you some soup,” Kojiro offered, pushing off the counter and heading for the back.

“No,” Kaoru said, a little too quickly. Quickly enough that Kojiro sent a raised brow over his shoulder. “No, don’t bother.”

“Then go home and go to bed before you get me sick,” Kojiro said, and the words made Kaoru bristle, even if Kojiro didn’t actually care. It wouldn’t be the first time Kaoru had sought comfort at Sia la Luce when he wasn’t feeling well, and Kojiro had never turned him away before.

“I haven’t finished my drink,” he said, taking another slow sip without removing his eyes from Kojiro’s.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking then,” Kojiro said, feigning a grab for the wine. Kaoru pulled the glass in close to keep it out of reach, narrowly avoiding spilling it on his sleeve.

“I hardly need medical advice from an ape,” Kaoru said. “Especially when it’s wrong.”

“Pretty sure I’ve listened to you complain about being sick enough that I’m qualified now,” Kojiro said, and it was that smugness that made Kaoru set his glass down a little too hard on the counter, that made the words come out before he could stop them.

“It’s the damn flowers, alright?” he admitted, and just thinking about them had him wrinkling his nose again. “A client gave them to me yesterday, and I didn’t look at them carefully.”

“So, let me guess, you worked in the same room with them all day?” Kojiro surmised, and Kaoru didn’t have to answer for Kojiro to know he was right. “What were they this time?”

Kaoru sighed. “Lilies.”

Kaoru expected Kojiro to tell him how stupid he was not to notice. He expected him to say to get rid of them, that the client would never know, that he should probably say something to prevent this from happening again. What he did not expect was for Kojiro to laugh at him, loud and unabashed.

“How did you not notice before now?” he said when he finally finished. He drained the last of his wine before heading toward the stairs to his apartment over the restaurant. “I’ve got some allergy medicine upstairs. Come on, you can stay over.”

Kaoru meant to say that he didn’t need to stay over, that he could buy his own allergy medicine, that he didn’t even really need it. But his nose still itched and he didn’t particularly want to drive home after all this. So, despite himself, he followed Kojiro upstairs.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

brother of mine

aka an itabros character study (?) there are characters and they’ve been studied, idk what else to tell you. this has been in my head for a long while, though i got a lil experimental with how i wrote it. anyway, this is a bit important to me and i know there’s like a lot of really good takes about their relationship already out ther, but here’s mine! i hope you enjoy it!

(pov romano, written in present tense 2nd person, in case that’s a turn off for you. all of the emotional baggage you’d expect.)

6:09- Wake up, still tired. Nothing you can do about that, but you stay in bed a little longer, listening. Is your brother awake yet? Do you want him to be? It’s already noisy outside. 

6:13- Get out of bed after spending four minutes staring at that photograph of your fiance and you that’s taped to the wall. You wonder if you should frame it, but he hasn’t gotten you a ring yet, so you don’t know if he’s serious, or he’s also in love with you. And if you were to frame it, you’d have to take the tape off, and that would render your likeness without a face. Would that be so bad? And you don’t want to think about that, so you push the blanket off. Because you sleep naked, you get cold fast without the blanket. At first, you try to sink deeper into the bed, but that dosn’t work. There’s no goosebumps on your back. So you get up and put clothes on. 

6:15- You walk into the bathroom, pleased that the time is such an even number. A perfect quarter of an hour. But then you see your brother, standing at the mirror, straightening his wavy hair. You sigh, and ask him how long he’s gonna be in the bathroom. You need to straighten your hair too, and you can’t use the toilet with him standing there. Maybe you could’ve at one point, or on a better day, but today isn’t one of those days. 

6:39- You finish straightening your hair. Your brother is still in the bathroom, even though he doesn’t need to be. He’s crosslegged on the toilet, and you’re paying closer attention to your hair than his rambling, but you still know when to nod and fake-laugh. 

6:52- You don’t pay attention to traffic on the way to work, despite driving. It was your turn to drive, but you’re not in the mood to drive. But you can’t ask your brother to drive, because then he’ll worry about you, and you’ll have to tell him why you’re fine. He’ll never believe you. He says he wants to help you a lot, but he never does, at least not in the way you need. Maybe he doesn’t understand you, or maybe you’re just stupid to him. Can he see you, really? Is he even trying? Maybe you are stupid, or maybe you can’t be helped. You almost hit a woman and her daughter, and you scream out the window that they need to walk faster. You don’t believe yourself, and your brother can tell. You growl. Maybe that’ll change his mind. 

7:28- You arrive at the Parliament building. Your brother gets out of the car first, almost while it’s still moving. Don’t want to be late! he chirps, but the pair of you can’t be late. You can’t give the nation avatars their morning briefing if they’re not there. And you’re not even supposed to be there until eight, anyway. You say nothing of this and call him a dumbass. 

7:37- You’re walking slowly through the halls. You have 23 minutes, and you are alone. Some coffee would be nice. You don’t trust yourself to get coffee and get back in 23 minutes, so you don’t. 

8:00- You walk into the briefing room. Your brother is already there. He gives you a little wave when you walk in. Heat flashes through you, and you feel like you could rip a cork out of a bottle with your bare hands. There is no way to test that, because there are no bottles in this room. You sit beside him, in the chair unofficially designated as yours, and begin the briefing. 

9:00- Another meeting. A headache nips at your temples, and you tell yourself it’s not because you didn’t get coffee. It is. In the meeding, someone mentions your separatists, and you straighten your tie. You also shrink back into your seat. They blame you, or maybe think you have answers. You don’t. You are glad your tattoo is covered. 

10:00- You have nothing to do for now, so you read the news. Your brother is doing paperwork. You should be doing paperwork. If you didn’t share an office, you wouldn’t feel so bad about not doing the paperwork. The sound of his pen on paper grates at you. You can hear his progress as the ball-point gets scratchier. You keep scrolling down the news app on your government phone. 

11:00- You start your own paperwork after the third time your brother harrasses you about it. Hundreds of Lovino Vargas’s make your wrist hurt, but he looks smug about finishing first. 

12:54- You get a chunk of your work done. Your brother’s fucked off somewhere without telling you. You leave the office, leave the building, and find a wall to lean against. You smoke, watching your people. If they’re yours? Things are fuzzier in Rome. You wish they weren’t. No one else is so weak in their capital, and it’s only okay because Veneziano is weak here too. A girl smiles at you, and you blow her a kiss. Her blush is cute, but you can’t enjoy it because you’re engaged. 

13:12- Your brother finds you. He wants to get lunch. You say fine, unenthused. You get lunch from a street market. When the vendor hands your food across the counter, your fingers brush. The look in his eyes changes, and he gapes. He knows who you are. You wink at him, and he stands a little straighter. Your brother knows what’s happened too, and beams at him. He pays in a stack of coins. The vendor chuckles, and stares at your brother in awe. They shake hands while you hold your brother’s lunch. You need to get back to work, so you take your food without shaking the vendor’s hand. 

14:00- It’s another hour passed. Your pen sounds different when you sign your name, but the victory feels hollow. You’re slow. 

15:00- It’s warm. Too warm. You’re heavy, and you want to take a nap. You’re sweating again, and miss the ocean. You can’t remember the last time you saw your fiance. You should make arrangements to see him again. 

16:00- It’s still warm. You’ve sweated through your dress shirt. Maybe you should take your blazer off. But then people will know you’re sweating. And your brother isn’t sweating. You keep the blazer on, and wipe your forehead with a tissue. With the tissue still in your hand, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You wipe under your arms with toilet paper, and stare at yourself in the mirror. You’re behind, and you sort of miss the times when you didn’t have paperwork. It was better for your wrists, but worse for everything else. Even so, you could lean back on your fiance’s chest whenever you pleased. He had a soft spot for you. Everyone else’s soft spot is for your brother. You wonder if your fiance is the only person who will ever have such a soft spot for you. You splash your face with cold water and pat it dry. Your eyes looked better when they were lined with sweat. 

17:00- It gets loud outside. You continue working. 

18:00- It’s still loud. You’re still working. Your brother takes a break, smoking by the window. There’s sweat under his arms. A secratary walks in to deliver more papers. She likes his suspenders, and he thanks her. He blows her a kiss. You know, the whole point of smoking by the window is to keep the smoke from getting into the room. The secratary leaves. You ruined it. 

19:00- Your brother drives you home. It’s his turn. He pays attention to traffic. You pick at your nails, and wrestle some words down. Your head throbs, and you need a smoke. Or some coffee. 

20:11- You’re home. It smells like you, and you can breathe. It also smells like your brother. Maybe you smell the same. 

20:47- Dinner. You sit down, punctuated by an opening door. You brother’s boyfriend walks in, and he makes him a plate. You shake your head, and push food around on your plate while they talk about trade deals. You wish he wasn’t here. Or maybe you wish you were somehwere else. Maybe you wish you were on the beach, or maybe you miss your fiance. Actually, you always miss him, but most of the time you’ve forgotten. Watching them talk about the trade hurts anyway. It’s not even trade between the two of them. You figure it out and realize that you wish you were human. If you were human you never would’ve met your brother. You’d never have left Sicilia- Or maybe you’d be married to your fiance by now. Whatever. You wouldn’t know either of the men on the other side of the table, and it would be a better life. 

21:03- You brother’s boyfriend is gone. You’re screaming, and so is your brother. You’re both armed with wine glasses, and you feel yours slipping in your hand. You don’t want to drop it, because he’ll help you clean it. You can see it now- The glass falls and shatters, and you fall with it to pick up the pieces. Your brother’s hands meet yours as he does the same. You scream at him and someone bleeds while the other shouts into a pillow. You drink the rest of your wine. You try to talk so fast that you dribble wine down your shirt. Your throat feels tight and your voice pitches up, and now you sound like him. You tell him he’s stupid and obnoxious and he should’ve kept his half of the country. His eyes widen. Yours would too if someone was yelling at you in your own voice. You both ruin your shirts with tears, and Veneziano drops his wine glass. Good job, you say, and track footprints of wine out of the room. 

21:49- You need to go to sleep. You can hear your brother talking to his boyfriend on the phone. You wish it was light enough to see the picture of your fiance on the wall, and you don’t want to get out of bed to turn the light on. You know it’s there, and that helps, but you really wish you could see him. 

5:03- You didn’t sleep much last night. The quiet in the house hurts a little. You’re still in yesterday’s clothes. You wander downstairs. The floor is clean now, and the kitchen door is open. Your brother is outside. 

5:06- You’re not sorry and you let him know. He’s okay with it and you sort of wish he wasn’t but you’re glad he understadns. He makes you cry too much, but you also make him cry a lot. Maybe you shouldn’t live together. You don’t say that, because it might make him cry again. 

5:08- His head is on your shoulder. You can’t move. You think you’re supposed to put an arm around him and be comforting. Your hands were always too rough, too violent, too dirty. They never learned how to love gently. You wouldn’t know how to comfort. You were never supposed to learn what tenderness was. Last night, you wished you hadn’t. 

5:18- You hug him. He does most of the work. You bury your face in his shoulder pretending it’s someon else’s. 

5:19- He’s sorry. You don’t believe him. 

5:20- You say thank you. 

5:21- Niether of you talk. You might not be ready to talk yet. Is it okay, you ask him? He shrugs, because he’s not ready either. No one’s ever ready. 

5:24- You agree to try again today. You both know it won’t work. You try again. 

[elen-aranel]

Cards on the Table

For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Writer Wednesday. A break from struggling to write something else! Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: cursing, excessive alcohol consumption  WC: 2k A/N: I write for other characters named Pike now? I guess that’s a thing! I feel like I may have copied this concept from something I read a while ago. If that’s the case and it was yours I’m sorry and I’ll take it down. A small part of this inspired by Real Life Feelings!

This is the last time, you tell yourself, as you stare at your reflection.

You’re in the bathroom of a colleague’s house – Jakobson from homicide – and you’re giving yourself a talking to in the mirror. You keep it in your head – if this were you apartment you might speak aloud, but while you’ve definitely had too much, you aren’t that far gone. Yet.

You hate playing cards. You’re bad at it. You don’t even like beer all that much – alcohol is fine, but you’d prefer wine. And you had been close to saying no, you had weekend plans, even though you definitely didn’t, when Pike and the guys from art had swung by and you heard he was going too.

You need to stop deciding which work social events to go to based on whether you think Marcus Pike will be there. This is the last one.

He doesn’t see you that way – to him you’re just one of the guys. Even if today you’re one of the guys in a cute outfit, there are other girls here. You’re not going to pluck up the courage to ask him out, so once you get through the rest of today, that’s it. No more pining. No more, “did you ask the art theft guys?” No more listening for his name.

That’s it. You’re done.

Decision made, you walk out the bathroom, out the house, into the garden – it is pretty; Jakobson and his wife must spend a lot of time to get it looking so good, and the weather is gorgeous too – and back to the table.

“Good, you’re back. Marcus is about to deal. I stole your chair, I hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, Emma,” you say, smiling down at your pretty brunette colleague from fraud. You had forgotten that she has designs on DeLuca, who you had been sitting with. He’s also a homicide detective and one of Jakobson’s best friends but – good for her. Someone should be getting some.

You look around for a vacant chair – Emma is not the only one who moved while you were gone, other people going to get more drinks and snacks – and the only one open is next to Marcus Pike.

“Hey,” you say, smiling, as you sit.

“Hey,” he says, smiling back, as he shuffles the cards and gets ready to deal. His smile lights up his face, making him look even more handsome, if possible, and you want to say something more but the moment passes.

And those are almost the last words you exchange. The afternoon fades into the evening, your terrible run of luck and lack of skill continues, and being honest, you have much more beer than you should.

But it’s difficult. You want to talk to him. But you need to concentrate on the game, which is hard when he is right there. You chat to Libby Jakobson on your other side; she seems sweet, and is very happy when you compliment the garden.

You’ve definitely had too much – you have to concentrate on not blurting out something stupid, like how Pike has such pretty eyes, and no, you cannot embarrass yourself in front of all these people from work, or in front of Libby, so you hold it together, even if, as you get up as other people do, thanking the Jakobsons for hosting, the flower beds seem a little... blurry.

You stand alone on the street outside, fumbling with your phone. You don’t have a car, you need to call an Uber. You stare at the map on the screen, trying to make it make sense, and somehow the phone is on the ground.

“Fuck,” you mutter, as you try to grab it and miss, and suddenly you’re colliding with a warm presence and he’s holding you and helping you stand back up.

“Need a little help there?” Marcus’s eyes are amused but warm, and you find yourself gazing into them, losing yourself a little.

“ ’m fine,” you mumble after just a little too long.

“Of course you are. Let’s get you home,” he says, tucking your phone into your purse and getting his out his pocket. “My ride is almost here. Where do you live?”

“Dupont Circle,” you reply, as a car drives up.

He keeps hold of you, keeping you steady, as he exchanges a few words with the driver, then gently guides you into the back seat.

“Buckle up,” he says, as he sits beside you, but then he has to help you because your clumsy fingers won’t co-operate. “You still remember your address?”

“Of course I do. I’m not that drunk,” you say, defensively, and you give it to the driver, who pulls away from the curb.

“This is all your fault, you know,” you mutter as the car drives through the nighttime streets.

“What is?” His expression is curious, eyes still warm, but the amusement from earlier is gone.

“Me... being here. Like this. I only came out today because you would be there. I’m useless at card games.”

“Yeah, you are. But... why come out just for me?”

You scoff. “Have you looked at you in the mirror lately? You’re hot. And kind, or you wouldn’t be giving me a ride. I like you. But you don’t like me, so today is the last time I do that.”

You lapse into silence. He doesn’t reply, and the movement of the car lulls you into a light doze.

Your hand is bring squeezed. “We’re here,” he says, opening the door on his side.

“This is my place, not yours. Why’re you getting out?” You ask, as you open the car door. You’re momentarily confused about why you can’t get out yourself until you realise your seatbelt is still done up. You pop the clasp and step awkwardly onto the pavement.

“Here, let me help,” Marcus takes your keys from you as you fumble with the lock on your apartment building. “Which floor?”

“Second, but I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

“Of course you don’t.” He helps you up the stairs, to your door, and he helps you get that open too.

“Thank you so much, Marcus,” you say, over-emotional, as you flop onto your sofa.

“Any time,” he says. “I think you should be okay now. Have some water. Give me a call if you need anything.”

*****

The sun has no right to be so bright, you think, as you reluctantly get up to use the bathroom. Your head is pounding. At least you managed to change for bed, but you should have had that water last like Marcus suggested, and... fuck. That really happened, didn’t it.

You wash your face, washing off yesterday’s makeup. Trying to wake up a little since it’s gone eleven. You pull on a comfy sweatshirt and leggings, and eye the kitchen. You don’t have strength to do anything other than pour yourself a glass of water, which you take to your sofa for a good sulk.

Why did you even go yesterday? And why couldn’t you have made better choices? Switched to water before you got drunk? Before you needed help to get home? Before you told Marcus Pike how you feel? You hope no one else realised how drunk you were. You check your phone – there aren’t any messages, and surely Emma would have sent you something if you had been that bad? She likes to tease; it’s the sort of thing she does. But Marcus. Why couldn’t you have kept your big mouth shut for ten minutes longer?

Your sulking is interrupted by the buzzer. The sound is annoying and brings your headache back to the front of your mind. Maybe if you ignore it whoever it is will go away? But no. That would be rude.

You press the button for the intercom. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Marcus. Can I come up?”

Oh boy. “Sure,” you say, and you buzz him through.

“Marcus I’m so sorry about last night,” you say as you open the door. He is as handsome as ever, looking perfectly fresh. Not like you. “Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I was thinking,” you step back for him to come in.

“You’re welcome. No need to apologise—we’ve alI had a little too much at some time or another. I brought you breakfast. And aspirin,” he says, handing you a packet of pills.

“Oh Marcus you really didn’t need to,” you’re embarrassed. You don’t know where to look as you feel your skin heat up. You pop a couple of pills out and have them with your water, while he heads over to the counter separating the living room from the kitchen.

“I wanted to. I—I thought you would probably need a little TLC today.”

He hands you a breakfast burrito, from your favourite place, you realise, as you look at the wrapper. The diner down the street where you often pick up breakfast on your way into the office. He puts cups of coffee and orange juice on your low table, and takes a seat at the sofa. You sit down too.

“How’s your head? Did you have some water last night?” He asks as he unwraps his burrito.

“No, I didn’t. It’s beginning to ease now though,” you say, taking a sip of juice.

You eat the rest of your food in silence, saving your coffee to last. The burrito is good, and eating something makes you feel a bit more human.

You should say something to him, though, but it’s difficult. Finally your burrito is gone and you’re out of excuses.

“Marcus, about last night, in the taxi. I’m so sorry.” You stare down at where you have your drink, cradled in both hands. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much, and I never should’ve said those things to you, I—”

You trail off as you feel his hand on yours, and even though your breath catches as he touches you, you raise your eyes slowly to meet his, afraid of what you’ll see. But there’s an intensity there, and something a little vulnerable.

“But did you mean it? Was it you or the alcohol talking?”

“I—I meant it.”

“Because I should apologise as well. I—I like you too. And I should’ve found a way to say it a long time ago. But if you feel the same way... maybe we could... see where this goes?”

He’s still touching you, and you put your coffee down with one hand as you take hold of his with the other.

“I’d like that,” you say, and find yourself captured by his deep brown eyes again. You’re leaning in, he is too, and his lips are on yours, soft and gentle. You bring your other hand up to cradle his jaw, feeling his beard under your fingers as you as the kiss gets more heated. He nibbles your lip and you open your mouth, tasting coffee on his tongue as it tangles with yours.

You pull apart, leaning your forehead against his as you just breathe for a moment.

“Well, that was...” he says, leaning back on the sofa but still keeping hold of your hand.

“Yeah,” you say, as you lean back too.

“So normally I’d like to take a girl out, for dinner, maybe a movie, but—” he turns to you, expression warm, open, hopeful. “I think going out might be a bit much for you, today. Would you mind if I stayed, and we could watch a film together here?”

You shift a little on the sofa, getting a bit closer to him. “I wouldn’t mind at all,” you say, reaching for the TV remote and handing it to him.

His smile is warm, lighting him up again. “Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

[shijiujun]

thirst follow au for chuyao? (i dunno if you still take prompt requests for chuyao but i just discovered the prompt list you posted and if you do still take prompts i'd love read your version for chuyao of this!!)

new celebrity lu yao + ceo of the company lu yao is signed under qiao chusheng

---

The first thing that Lu Yao does once he’s alone these days is open his Weibo app and scroll to a particular account to look for updates. It doesn’t matter if he’s just started break after his filming sequence, or when he gets home after a day of long activities, before he does anything, Lu Yao is on his phone and checking through @/乔楚生mmc.

“Yao Yao, are you checking through Qiao-zong’s Weibo again?” his manager sighs as she enters the waiting room that has been allocated to Lu Yao for the duration of this period drama shoot.

“... Jie,” Lu Yao grins suddenly, showing her his phone, “Look at him at the ELLE Fashion event, he’s not wearing an inside shirt! It’s just a blazer over, I saw his fans yelling about this earlier but I didn’t have time to check, he just-”

Man Man-jie, his manager, tries not to be exasperated with him, but it has honestly been two months since Lu Yao discovered Qiao Chusheng, the CEO of Qing Long Ying Shi, the largest entertainment and media company in the country, after he visited one of Lu Yao’s shoots. 

Not for Lu Yao of course, but for the world-renowned director that Lu Yao and every other crew and cast member in this production is working with - suffice to say, Lu Yao laid eyes on their company’s CEO for the first time since he signed on a year ago, and he hasn’t been able to keep away from him since. 

It makes him wonder why Qiao Chusheng did not become a star himself, but Man Man said that the man has always had a knack for business development, and the company has only grown stronger after Boss Bai, the man who founded it and who is also Qiao Chusheng’s adoptive father, relinquished the position to him.

“How did you not know Qiao Chusheng is the CEO of this company?! Your paychecks are getting signed by him!”

“Aiya.... Jie, it’s not like I come across him at all... And I thought our CEO was some old man...”

Lu Yao immediately followed Qiao-zong on all his social media accounts because the man is certified exceptional in looks and body. He won’t admit it, but the best thing he likes about Qiao Chusheng aside from his arms, his muscles, his chiseled jaw, those sharp eyes, that hot body, is definitely the man’s smile.

It’s too embarrassing to say though, so Lu Yao stalks him online instead, on his private account that no one knows about. And because it’s a private and almost empty account, Lu Yao dares to leave emoji responses and some comments from time to time.

Today, Lu Yao replied Qiao Chusheng’s post with five thumbs-ups and five fire emojis. On second thought, he adds:

“哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~”*

Man Man looks over his shoulder to glance at the comment and rolls her eyes so hard that she almost pulls something in her neck. 

“You know, one of these days, if anyone finds out, you’re dead,” she shakes her head. “When that time comes, you’re on your own. Don’t expect me to clean up on your behalf. Also, Qiao-zong is only a year older than you are, and you’re calling him gege?”

“Hey!” Lu Yao exclaims, indignant, “I have to present myself as one of his young girl fans right? If anyone ever finds out about my account, i can at least roll my eyes and ask if I would ever sound this disgusting, and then people will think twice.”

“Okay, if not that, then could you please change your Weibo name? You’re embarrassing me!”

Lu Yao frowns, confused. He thinks @/三土葱油饼 is a great handle for a social media account.

The best thing is, Qiao-zong has been oddly responsive to social media post comments recently, and he banters hilariously with fans when he has the time. Lu Yao hasn’t gotten that privilege yet, but Qiao-zong seems to be liking a lot of his fans’ posts as well, at least for those who post in the first hour of his new post, and those get likes.

Recently, it has also been Lu Yao’s personal mission to leave a comment and get a like by his Qiao-zong.

“Yao Yao, you’re so stupid, you know that? Not every single fangirl has the opportunity that you do. You literally have an excuse to go see him, you actually have access to him, his office floor? Company events? What game are you playing, stalking him on Weibo?”

Lu Yao tunes her out a little. It’s pretty fun to him, to be able to openly appreciate all these hot and amazing photos of Qiao-zong. Here, he can stare to his heart’s content, and he doesn’t have to hold back when he makes his comments. If he met Qiao Chusheng in person...

Well, of course he wants that too, but would he be more disappointed if Qiao Chusheng barely looks at him, or ignores him? Lu Yao isn’t a small artiste by any measure, and he did win the newcomer award two years ago, but there are so many experienced and legendary colleagues in his company too. 

It is, after all, the country’s media and entertainment industry behemoth, and Lu Yao doesn’t have a complex - he knows what he’s worth right now, and it ain’t a whole damn lot.

When he comes out of the shower two hours later at home, he sees a notification on Weibo, and it says that @/乔楚生mmc has liked his comment! 

His day made, Lu Yao flops back onto his bed and conks out for the next 24 hours.

===

Lu Yao can only thank his lucky stars because someone up there must really be looking out for him. If not, how can anyone explain Qiao Chusheng turning up at his shoot so frequently the week after?

Before this, Lu Yao had literally never seen the man even once aside from that very first meeting that began this whole thirst journey for him, and this week, Qiao-zong has visited every single day.

Of course, it’s not like he’s here for Lu Yao. According to some of his cast mates, Qiao Chusheng’s younger sister Bai Youning wrote the script for the last stage of their filming before the production wraps up, and asked her brother to stay on set to watch every scene being filmed.

The scriptwriter is usually on set for the parts she writes, but this particular segment of filming happened to clash with her honeymoon period with her new husband, but did that stop her from being involved? Not at all, and so busy Qiao Chusheng has to sit his ass down, note down what’s happening, and report back to his adopted sister at the end of each day.

Sadly, this segment will only take five days or less to complete, which means Lu Yao won’t be able to stare at Qiao-zong for much longer.

When will he shine brightly enough to catch Qiao-zong’s attention?

At the thought, Lu Yao slaps his own cheeks.

He only thinks of Qiao Chusheng as eye candy. He’s after a visual feast whenever he logs onto Weibo to catch the man’s updates. Qiao Chusheng is a pillar of strength for him mentally.

Lu Yao has no other untoward fantasy or goals when it comes to Qiao Chusheng.

None at all.

===

Somehow, Lu Yao ends up all drunk and boneless in Qiao-zong’s laps at the end of the week. As they expected, filming wrapped up officially earlier in the evening after Lu Yao filmed his very last scene, and since the CEO was present, there was no reason not to treat everyone on the production to a good meal.

Man Man temporarily left ten minutes ago to take on a call for another possible role for Lu Yao, and the room was cleared when Qiao Chusheng offered to book three huge karaoke rooms upstairs for the crew and cast to continue their party at after their dinner.

Lu Yao has had a bit too much to drink, and Man Man isn’t around to direct him elsewhere, so when the room has emptied, he is still seated, staring at his empty glass of wine. 

Suddenly, he thinks of something, and immediately pats at his pockets for his phone. 

“... Lu-xiansheng,” a voice sounds, “You’re not going to join them upstairs?”

“Mmm,” Lu Yao nods, trying to focus on his phone screen. “Going home.”

A nice-sounding chuckle echoes through the room then, “Can you get home like this?”

“I’m going on Weibo. Man-jie will send me home,” Lu Yao responds, almost sulking a little as he tries to find his favourite Weibo account.

There’s a bit of silence after that, and before Lu Yao can even scroll through today’s updates, a hand closes over the screen.

“You’re drunk, Lu Yao,” the same person says again. “You really shouldn’t be on Weibo. What if you post something by accident?”

Lu Yao pauses, and then he shakes his head, “I’m not posting anything.”

He turns and shows his ‘friend’ his phone screen, “See? It’s a private account, and... and... and I’m just... going to check on my favourite account.”

“Even then,” the man says again, exceedingly gentle and patient, “You should only look at Weibo when you’re sober.”

“No!” Lu Yao protests. “I have to check. I check this account everyday. See? See?”

There’s a long, long moment of silence as Lu Yao scrolls his way down the account, detailing which are his favourite photos. The man lets him go on, and because he’s cold, Lu Yao inches even closer to him.

The last thing he remembers is his new friend taking his phone from him.

===

It’s painfully bright when he wakes up, the light triggering a headache even before he opens his eyes. When he does, however, Lu Yao has to take a long, long moment to figure out just where the fuck he is. 

He’s trying to massage the headache away with his fingers, seated up in bed but having zero energy to get out of it just yet, so when Qiao Chusheng walks through the door with a smile, Lu Yao just stares.

“You’re awake. Great, I got you some fried buns for breakfast, you okay with that? Man Man didn’t say you were on any sort of diet,” the man says casually, as if they are friends.

Lu Yao looks down at himself, and nearly jolts when he realizes he’s in nothing else but a bathrobe.

Before he can panic, Qiao Chusheng adds, “I thought you looked a little uncomfortable sleeping in your jeans and shirt yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao rasps, trying to wrap his head around why Qiao Chusheng is here, why they’re in a hotel room, and why the fuck the man is even speaking to him in the first place-

He must have inconvenienced the man last night while he was drunk, and instead of throwing him to Man Man, Qiao Chusheng decided to take care of him instead. Maybe Qiao Chusheng could have left him on the streets or something, but he is after all an artist under his company, and if anything strange happened because Lu Yao was drunk, it would be bad for the reputation and image of the company if word got out.

Yes, that’s the only explanation for this.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Qiao-zong,” Lu Yao says, inching his way out of bed. 

“No trouble at all,” Qiao Chusheng replies. “Come and sit, have some breakfast before you go. I called Man Man, she should be here in a bit to pick you up.”

With that said, it isn’t good for Lu Yao to reject him and just run off no matter how much he wants to right now. He sits down opposite the man at the table, and then picks up the buns.

After he’s literally swallowed three whole buns, Qiao Chusheng comments idly, “I thought it was random when you chose your Weibo account handle, but it seems that you really like cong you bings?”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods, wolfing the buns down because he’s hungry as hell, and so he doesn’t’ really register the first part of the man’s sentence, not until he’s on the last bite of his bun.

And then he chokes.

“How did you-?!”

At that, Qiao Chusheng raises an eyebrow, “You showed me your phone yesterday, and introduced to me your favourite account.”

Lu Yao blanches, because he knows which account that is, and then Qiao Chusheng continues, amused, “You were telling me how nice his smile looks. How pretty his eyes are. How strong his arms probably are hidden under that suit. And that you guessed right, he actually does have six-pack-”

“Please stop,” Lu Yao croaks, mortified. “I...”

The man takes pity on him and stops as requested. Lu Yao is frozen in his seat, like a deer caught in headlights, wondering what he should say next.

Qiao Chusheng nods, “Would you like to have lunch with me later?”

“Are you firing me?”

“It’s just lunch,” he answers. “I’m technically your boss, so I understand if you’re uncomfortable with the idea but... we could do lunch, and see how it goes from there.”

And then Qiao Chusheng looks away a little, “And.. I may have been visiting the set not to supervise the interpretation of Youning’s script.”

Once again, it takes him a few solid seconds to connect the dots, and when it does, Lu Yao flushes completely red.

“... we could do lunch,” Lu Yao agrees finally. “But I have to go home and change first.”

When he looks up again, it’s that smile he sees.

===

Weeks later, Chusheng makes Lu Yao repeat every single message he’s left on his posts, all the embarrassing ones, refusing to move if he doesn’t. Lu Yao’s hands balls into fists in the sheets, and says no.

He left a lot of messages! How is he supposed to remember every single one of them?!

Chusheng makes a a convincing argument though, towering over him and not giving into Lu Yao’s requests to fuck him properly until Lu Yao says them. It ends with Lu Yao trying to concentrate enough to speak, word after word.

He’s going to unfollow his boyfriend on Weibo after this!

---

Notes:

1. Qiao Chusheng’s Weibo account name is @/乔楚生mmc = Qiao Chusheng MMC, and this is taken directly from Zhang Yunlong’s own Weibo handle, which is 张云龙mmc. MMC, as I recently found out from Hanyi, stands for mao mao chong = caterpillar/worm? HAHAHAHA

2. Lu Yao’s handle is @/三土葱油饼 = San Tu Cong You BIng, which is a combination of the name San Tu and his favourite fried buns HAHAHA that’s how QCS was inspired to buy fried buns for Lu Yao the morning after

3. The comment that Lu Yao left in Chinese above is: “哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~” = Gege you’re handsome af, take a look at me please! Something like that, he was definitely kind of joking when he posted that, but you can imagine Lu Yao being a little troublemaker by posting those comments and once QCS realized it was him, it was payback time? Of course, QCS likes to hear his baobei Lu Yao say anything <3

[themorphine]

3rd Times a Charm, Chap 4

GUYS I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY I FINALLY HAD TIME TO WRITE, hope you enjoy!

I woke up shaking. No someone was shaking me.

"FEYRE." Someone screamed my name. Alis. I jumped out of bed. What was going on? Was Tamlin here? Was Alis's ex here? Did the bakery near us run out of blueberry muffins?

Alis's expression was not scared or frightened or angry but full of excitement. "Your tired ass fell asleep before I could get you to spill the beans on your date. So what happened? You don't have that it was a good date smile, why? TELL ME."

"Slow down Alis, your gonna give me a headache at 6 in the morning."

"It's actually 5 pm, and I made you coffee it's on your side table. I added a bit of creamer just like you like it."

"You're a lifesaver, Alis. A gift sent from the gods." she chuckled as I greedily took the mug from the side table and drank the coffee. I could feel the heavenly liquid coursing through my veins, making me more alert.

"Oh and that violet-eyed dude is in the kitchen." I choked on my coffee and whipped my head to her. "What." Rhys- Rhysand was here? For how long? Why was he here? To see me? Don't be stupid Feyre, I thought. I thought we agreed that disappointment was fake.

I leaped out of bed and stumbled to my closet, looking for something nice to wear. What hadn't I gone shopping with Alis when she asked? I rummaged through my closet when I noticed a bag near the door of my closet. I picked it up and looked inside. There was a deep blue blouse, baggy light-washed jeans, and tiny hoop earrings. Had I bought these? When? I never went shopping, Ha-

"I got that for you this morning!" Alis hollered. Alis was really a lifesaver. I thanked her 5 times and promised to make it up to her until she shouted at me to go change, and I ran into the bathroom, making sure not to run into Rhysand.

I put on the outfit, and I had to admit I looked good. Even though the jeans were loose, You could still see my curves and gods the blouse. For some reason, it reminded me of Rhysand and those impossible violet eyes. He was so beautiful, though I would never admit it because his ego would skyrocket. He looked inhumanly beautiful like he was something else, something much more powerful. I w-

"FEYRE WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?"

I jumped and slammed back into reality. Stop daydreaming Feyre, he doesn't like you. End of story. I quickly put on the earrings and opened the door, Alis was sprawled on the bed and jumped up when she saw me. She squealed and said "Feyre you look amazing! I knew those clothes would look amazing on you for your date-"

"DATE?" I screamed. Date?! When had I agreed to go on a date with Rhysand? He obviously wasn't interested in me, what was going on?

Her eyes were filled with suspicion for a moment, but then turned to shock and amusement

"So you don't remember anything from last night?" What the hell is she talking about?

"Obviously not! How the hell did I get another date?!"

Alis told me about last night, how I woke her up when I dropped a wine glass when I went to get some at 3 in the morning, how we ended up drinking wine, laughing, talking, and then going on my phone. She told me how I messaged another guy, I found out was Azriel, and asked for a date, he agreed and I told him to pick the place. Alis had then passed out but I must have messaged more because there were so many messages, full of random talks, and I realized we were talking about Again but Better by Christine Riccio, a novel we both enjoyed immensely but he seemed shy to admit it. Gods Feyre, what have you done? Wait isn't Rhysand in the house?! Wait why do you care whether he hears you, he DOESNT like you!

Alis must have seen my confusion, because then she smirked and said casually "Oh yeah, Rhysand isn't really here I just said that because that is the only way to get you out of bed."

I glared at her, but I couldn't really be mad at her, she was right. And that surprised me.

I decided not to eat breakfast because my date, Azriel was taking me somewhere. I was scrolling through the pictures on tinder and our past conversations. I had to admit, he looked gorgeous. He was muscled like Rhys and Cassian, but his eyes were different. Not different like Rhys and the same hazel like Cassians, but like they had shadows in them. He looked as if he would have shadows around him, curling in his ear to tell him things. There you go again Feyre, your artist's eye is very weird these days.

I shook my head and stood up. It was almost 6, and I had to walk to the restaurant we were going to. He had offered to pick me up when we were talking last night, but I was still too suspicious of paranoid to go in a car with a man. I thanked that my drunk self spared my embarrassment and did not tell him that.

I said goodbye to Alis and she wished me luck, with her nephews in her lap. I smiled and hugged them both before leaving.

Velaris was the perfect weather tonight, warm but with a cooling breeze that blew the hair out of my face. It was 5:40, and the sun looked like it was going to set soon. The clouds looked like a painting, and I was enraptured in them. I could never paint clouds like that, could never get the shadows right, c-

One second I was thinking about the clouds, and the next second my body slammed into something. Yet again, not something, but someone. I lost balance from the blow, but someones strong, definitely a mans, hands reached and put his arm around my waist. The hand felt familiar. The scent was similar too. I looked at who had saved me from probably getting a really bad butt bruise and saw a pair of violet eyes. Shit

"Feyre Darling, it seems I am always bumping into you. not that I'm complaining." He had his signature smirk, his violet eyes dancing with amusement. I wanted to paint those eyes so badly, to find the right-DATE FEYRE. You have a date.

"Prick" I mumbled, and he chuckled. He released his hold on me, and a small part of me wished he kept it there. His eyes widened a bit as he took me in, drinking in every. Single. Inch. Of. Me. He lingered on my lips, and something pooled low in my stomach. Shitshitshitshitshit.

"So why are you so dressed up? Not that I'm mad, you look delicious." I might have blushed a bit at that, but I was also annoyed that he had such a hold over me. I needed to get back on track. Date with Azriel.

"If you must know you busybody I am going on a date." Again his eyes dimmed a bit, but I told myself it was fake, how could eyes dim? A growing part of me snorted at that and said, Oh you wait.

"Last Night's one was that good? Damn, what did your date do?" I appreciated that he respected and did not make assumptions about my sexuality, most men I knew, scratch that, all men I knew other than Cassian and Rhys would do that.

"Yesterday's date and I realized we could be way better as friends, but I gave him my sister's number." His brows furrowed at that as if remembering something. They smoothed instantly.

"Well Feyre Darling, I wouldn't want to make you late for your date-"

"No, you wouldn't" I cut in. I might have sounded rude, but it was the only way I was going to go on my date with Azriel and not cancel it. I dusted the dirt off my pants, and walked off, making sure not to look back at him, not hearing him sigh, not hearing him say, "I'll be waiting, Feyre Darling."

The restaurant was extremely fancy, with gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The furniture was all brown, and though it looked expensive they all had a worn aura to them. It was like everything in here was well used. I could smell the food from the kitchen and it smelt heavenly. I walked along the hardwood floor, my shoes creating a little click-clack sound.

I spotted Azriel a few tables away. He was reading the menu, his dark hair falling on his face. He looks like a shadow. I thought. My hands itched to paint it, to have swirling black shadows around him, whispering to him, curling around his caramel brown ears.

GET IT TOGETHER FEYRE, god. I shook myself for good measure and walked up to Azriel's table. He must have heard the sound my shoes made because he looked up before I was at the table. He got up and pulled out my seat. I blushed a bit and thanked him.

"So, Feyre right?"

"Yep, the one and only."

"You are an amazing drunk texter." I whipped my head to his face and stared at him my eyes a bit wide. He had a small smile, his eyes full of amusement.

"Why thank you Azriel," I said smugly, not giving him the satisfaction of my embarrassment. No way in hell was I going to tell him Alis had looked at every text before I sent them.

"You know, it seems like it was too good," he said in a low whisper, gliding his finger across the rim of his glass of water. "Like somebody helped you."

I sputtered, trying to come up with a good explanation, and all the smugness I had before had mysteriously vanished. How did he guess?

"I'm in the CIA Feyre, I know how to find out people's secrets." Oh god, I said that last part out loud.

Before I could say anything the waiter came to ask what we wanted. I looked through the menu and smiled. They had mushroom ravioli. I had gone through a big Twilight Phase, and sometimes I wondered if I ever got over it. I ordered the mushroom ravioli, and I forced Az to get the same thing.

We started talking about Twilight, and I found out that he secretly loved the books and movies. I thanked the mother when he said he was Team Edward, gods knows what I would have said to him if he was Team Jacob. We talked about how there should have been more carlesme, how Rosalie deserved better, and we both had a love for Garrett. He also talked a bit about his time at the CIA, though he couldn't share much. The more I talked with Az, the more I realized that we wouldn't work as a couple, but I would do anything to have him as a friend, family even. Even though I was smiling, I felt huge guilt in me. I was going to have to hurt this man. I also realized that Elain would work well with him, I would give him her number. Dang Feyre you really like to play matchmaker don't you.

We finished our dinner, and we were outside the restaurant when I decided I would tell him.

"Az-"

"Yes, I would like to stay friends Feyre." His eyes were warm and kind, not sad or mad at all. I stared at him in shock.

"H-"

"I work for the CIA remember? I saw it in your eyes and body language."

"Oh. Thanks, Az, I'm super glad I made a new friend." I smiled up at him and hugged him. He stiffened for a second before hugging me back. I made sure to give him Elain's number before I walked back home. I felt so much lighter, Even though I wasn't making any boyfriends I was making friends, friends I knew I would remember forever.

Taglist:

@feysandandnyxsworld

message me if u want to be a part of it :)

[growingstrong-imagines]

Kissed by Fire // Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: What happens when the Queen kissed by Ice needs to turn to the Queen kissed by Fire in desperate times? Will the visit of the Dragon Queen cause unintentional anger and even unexpected feelings in the Northern Realm? People aren’t joking when they say opposites attract.

Word Count: 2k+

Warning: mentions of alcohol

A/N: okay this is a hot mess which took me way too long to write but hey after all im writing a fanfic based on grrm’s work amirite. it’s also going to flop but idc

Lyarra woke up with an awful headache attacking her temple, and it felt like her brain was about to burst out of her skull. She looked down at herself and realised she had fallen asleep in her gown which became quite wrinkled the night before. The Queen let out an annoyed sigh and she knew she was causing extra work for her servants, the thought of it making her feel ashamed of herself. 

She tried to stand up on her two feet as slowly as possible, but Lyarra still felt like her body was light as a feather and heavy as all the bricks making up Winterfell, at once. She almost collapsed back on her hard bed which was barely comfortable enough to even sit on it. 

Lyarra knew she had to get herself together, so she took a huge gulp of the glass of water sitting on her desk and she knew it would probably be for the best to call one of her servants and ask for something to treat the hangover but her thought process was cut short by her most trusted advisor, Ser Davos.

“Your brother would like to talk to you, Your Grace,” he announced, bowing slightly. Lyarra simply nodded and told the knight to let Jon inside, then wait for them outside. She recognised the worried looks Davos was giving her when he saw her uncombed hair and wrinkled gown, but she couldn’t bother thinking about it right now. However, Lyarra did start feeling uneasy once Jon closed the door behind himself and looked her up and down with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Are you here to tell me something important or to judge me again?” The Queen snapped and rubbed the bridge of her nose with eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, feeling like an actual mess.

Jon took a step closer with a worried expression on his face. He knew what it felt like to behead someone, though he had got quite used to the blood on his hands by now. However, his sister didn’t have as much experience and still wanted to appear strong, but Jon knew about her coping mechanisms and it worried him more and more, on a daily basis but every time he wanted to talk to Lyarra about it, all he got was annoyed groans and denial. His sister was definitely down on the wrong path, but he knew there was still a chance to pull her back.

Lyarra looked him in the eyes, and she couldn’t keep it anymore. All those weeks and months without touching anyone even in the most innocent way possible made her stone-cold and distant, but still starving for the feeling of a warm body against her seemingly frozen one. She knew that her title was turning her into something she had never wanted to become and that made her terrified and anxious, constantly on the edge, praying to the Gods to send someone who would help her get her real self back.

Lyarra suddenly collapsed into Jon’s strong arms and her brother held her as close as possible, reassuring his sister that she wasn’t alone in this fight. He ran his fingers through Lyarra’s hair and stroked her back gently, so she would calm down and feel at ease just again.

Once it happened, she pulled away from Jon and gave him a tiny smile.

“I’m sorry. It was harder than I thought it would be. And I can’t stop thinking about how much danger might be hiding among the walls of Winterfell. Among the walls of my home,” she said almost whispering while filling another glass with the cold water.

“We’ll work hard to secure the castle even more, Lyarra. After all that have happened, you’ll also need a guard constantly looking after you. And don’t even dare to say no. I know that you are the Queen but I’m your brother and want you safe and sound.” Jon looked at her with one of the most serious expressions Lyarra had ever seen on his face, and she knew it was no place for an argument right now. She simply lowered her eyes and tried to ignore the headache that didn’t want to go away. Eventually, she decided to change the topic. It was way too painful to talk about it right now.

“Does the Dragon Queen still want us to bend the knee?” she asked with a slightly disgusted face and Jon didn’t have to talk to answer her question; his long and deafening silence was enough.

Lyarra let out a chuckle and shook her head, taking another sip of the fresh water that she wished was a cup of great Arbor wine instead. She soon got ashamed of that thought.

“We cannot do that and she just wastes all of our time if she thinks otherwise,” Lyarra said, putting the empty cup down, all the while looking Jon dead in the eyes. Her brother lowered his head and sighed, knowing full well it would take an awful lot to convince his sister to think about other options. Jon saw the good in Daenerys, he saw the potential in her and genuinely thought it would be for the better to seek alliance with the Dragon Queen. However, Lyarra was just as stubborn as their father Ned and brother Robb, and she wasn’t convinced easily about anything, let alone such an important decision, which could influence the lives of thousands if not millions so easily.

Jon stepped closer cautiously, knowing full well how much his sister treasured her personal space. But as she stood there without her heavy crown and flawless gown, Jon realised how vulnerable Lyarra actually was. No matter what anyone said and thought, his sister was still a scared child at heart who had to grow up way too fast. And a part of Jon hated himself for not being there for her to protect her from all the harm that had reached Lyarra while they were apart, but he knew that his sister would be angry with him for saying it out loud, so he kept it all to himself.

Lyarra shook her head once again and forced herself to look the other way, so she wouldn’t see the worry in Jon’s eyes. It was the same bloody look every time they looked at each other, and she was getting tired of it. After all, she wasn’t the helpless little girl she was when her brother left for the Wall - she was the Queen in the North, a grown woman with ambition and cunning. A grown woman who had fought for survival for a big part of her life, who had already learned she was her only true ally.

So she despised that look in Jon’s eyes even though her brother meant no harm. Still, it took Lyarra back to dark places she never wanted to visit again, so it was easier to avoid eye-contact with her brother, even if it meant making him feel bad. After all, she had never learned how to confront an issue in a healthy way.

Finally, when the silence was getting too heavy for both of them, Jon sighed and pulled Lyarra into a tight hug. The girl was surprised at first, so she just stood there slightly shocked of the sudden display of affection from Jon. Then, slowly but surely, Lyarra let her muscles relax and leaned into her brother’s strong body, folding her own arms around Jon’s torso. She unconsciously buried her face in the boy’s chest and it made her feel safe and home. Oh, how dearly she had missed these feelings and finally, they were all there, lighting a fire inside of Lyarra – a fire that was ignited and kept alive by the feelings of love and safety. Just as this fire started had Lyarra realised how cold and icy she had become throughout the years spent alone or in the company of cruel people and traitors. She only needed a pair of safe arms to melt the ice and make her feel human again.

When they pulled away, Lyarra even flashed a weak smile at her brother, who was quick to return the gesture. However, their moment was soon ruined by Ser Davos, who informed Lyarra about the Dragon Queen’s desire to speak to her in private.

Lyarra took a quick glance at Jon, who lowered his eyes and was already holding his breath. He knew full well that his sister had a rather strong personality which not everyone was fond of and he had feared that Queen Daenerys would be too quick to judge Lyarra too without giving her time to warm up to her.

However, Daenerys was quite patient and understanding, some of her qualities which she only reserved for people she greatly loved or respected. As she stepped in the chambers of the Queen in the North, she had to try really hard to toughen up in front of her rival. Or, who seemed to be her rival. Daenerys had no idea what had happened to her and she tried to fool herself by telling herself it was the sweet wine she had had before visiting the Queen in the North. Of course, it was much more complicated than that and a part of her was aware of that.

Lyarra raised her eyebrows to let the Dragon Queen know that she was waiting for her response.

“I’m terribly sorry, I must have got lost in my thoughts. I simply wanted to visit you because we haven’t had the chance to get to know each other, I’m afraid. What you did yesterday- You’ve done it before, haven’t you, Lady Lyarra?” Daenerys cursed herself in her mind for letting such ramble roll off the tip of her tongue.

However, Lyarra cursed the Queen in secret for addressing her as a simple Lady instead of the Queen she was. Still, she managed to force a smile on her face and offered her a seat opposite of her by her desk before answering the Queen’s question.

“I haven’t had to behead too many people so far, if that’s what you’re curious about. But I have had my battles to fight, so I’ve learned to swing a sword the hard way.”

Daenerys suddenly didn’t know how to reply, but she was so desperate not to appear weak or ignorant in front of a possible ally, so she simply smiled and said how much she had always admired warrior queens at which Lyarra simply smirked and turned away, leaving Daenerys disappointed.

“I’m sure you’re already a legend, as well, Your Grace, so please, let’s skip the small talk to you telling me the actual reason you’re here,” Lyarra blurted out, staring deep into those violet eyes. I can’t lie, they’re beautiful, but beauty is lethal.

Daenerys couldn’t ignore the tone the Northern Queen used when saying Your Grace but she also knew she couldn’t let such petty little things get in the way. She had a goal to achieve here but it was getting difficult to keep her composure in the presence of Lyarra Stark. And it wasn’t the fact that it was her territory that intimidated Dany- it was something completely different, a feeling that she hadn’t been able to shake off since she first laid eyes on the Stark girl. As much as it annoyed her, it also made her scared. Scared that it might be the cause of her losing her place on the Iron Throne.

“You see right through me, my Lady. I am actually here to convince you to bend the knee and join forces with me to-,“ but she couldn’t continue without being cut off by Lyarra Stark.

“To help you get the Iron Throne where you could rule over my home? I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace, but I hope you can understand that I simply can’t do that. I can’t decide for thousands. And even if I could, my answer would still be no.”

Daenerys flashed a rather forced smile at the self-proclaimed Queen in the North and thought to herself she’s making it difficult for everyone, but if she wants difficult, let it be difficult.

[midnight-lightning]

Missed Calls

Bucky barnes x Reader

Warning: Character's death, Desperation, Sadness (hopefully)

You opened your eyes and had no idea where you were.

It was dark, however a small amount of moon light that fell through the small space in between the curtains enlightend your room a little.

Then you smelled the bitter scent of alcohol and the peaceful moment between sleep and awakening crashed down, returning the painful memories and headache all at once again.

You didn't remember how you had reached your bed yesterday, if you had even reached it at all or if Steve had to carry you back in your room, after you had fallen asleep somewhere else again, which had happened too often these last time.

But on the other side you could also remember that you in fact didn't get the chance to get drunk as you planned because Steve that ass of a friend had taken your bottle of wine away immediately after he noticed the red glass in your hand.

He didn't know it had already been your second.

Or was it your third?

Either way the thought made you grin a little even for moment.

Yes, you weren't drunk, but god you wished you were, not to feel this endless pain anymore...

If you'd only knew where Steve hid Tony's supplies...

You stood up but midst your movement you lingered. Your eyes went back down to your phone which was frantically clung in your right hand.

Your damn phone... in the last days it had probably become your most hatred and simultaneous your most treasured belonging.

It had been one month already... it felt like a whole life time.

You dropped your head back into the pillow, pulling the blanket above your head.

The sudden bright light of your phone made you close you eyes in pain but you didn't need to see the screen of your phone anymore.At least five times at day, five times at night, sometimes even more often depending on how you felt.

That's why your fingers had already automated every movement to find the right page and press the right number in your contact list.

You held your eyes shut when you brought the phone up to your ear, feeling your heart bumping through your chest, the sick feeling rising again in your throat.

And even though you've done it nearly a hundred time somehow you still flinched when the first ringtone chimed in.

One time ...

A second time...

A third time...

By know you had gotten to the point where you just wanted to throw up or just punch anything, anyone. Or both.

The fourth time...

After the fifth time and as always exactly 25 seconds-

"Hello?"

Your heart stopped.

"Here is Bucky Barnes and ... I'm not available right now, so - leave a message? Yes... good bye. Why are you laughing, Steve?"

"I'm not laughing!"

You could hear Bucky sighting, then he chuckled and then it seemed like he was saying something else but it was cut off by the beep, signalising to speak on the mailbox.

Your heart ached by the sound of his voice, his little laugh.

The memory of that day suddenly flooded into your mind, when you and Steve finally convinced him to make his own mailbox and honestly it was one of the cutest memories you had of him.

The chuckle at the end was because of something you said and he had given you THIS smile, the smile you adored, the smile you would do anything to see again.

You didn't cry. Though you wanted, you felt like crying, but you guessed by now even your tears were tired.

Suddenly you realised you'd waited way too long to say something now and all at once you got angry with yourself.

With an annoyed huff you pressed the hang-up button and kicked your sheets off with your feet's before you sat up straight in bed.

What were you doing...

It's in the middle of the night, you should be sleeping, and not calling someone who will never even hear the messages, yet alone would pick up the phone ever again.

This is pathetic. So pathetic.

Sitting on your bed you opened the curtains - a little bit too forceful.

Shining down at you was the moon in its full beauty, somehow you got the feeling it was watching you in full judgement.

You weren't blind, nor deaf if all. You saw the worry in their eyes, the whispering when they thought you couldn't hear, and above all there was the pity.

This goddamn Pity. God, how you hated it.

He was the man you loved, not only with your heart but with your soul and your whole being.

But no matter how much you suffered, how much you felt like your heart is being ripped apart again and again every time you look behind only to see an empty place.

No matter thow often the thoughts of a future without him hurt so damn much -  you weren't the only one who was in pain.

Right now nearly every single person in the whole world is experiencing the feeling of loss, grief and pure desperation in a completely new way.

The world it broken and honestly you saw barely any hope for the future. Thanos made sure of that.

And No matter how often Steve brought one of his speeches about hope, destiny, solidarity and never failing to mention 'moving on' at least three times, even he had moments in which he broke down. Felt like giving up.

You could see it in his eyes, he was broken, he felt like he let them down, the whole world, every single human being, his best friends.

So yeah, every lonely night you find yourself here in this room, staring up to the sky, talking to Bucky on your phone. Because even if he's gone forever, he was an for ever will be your pillar, your anchor.

You're telling him what's going on in the world, what you had done this day, how Steve keeps up in this mess, trying to help people, Natasha never giving up and that there still wasn’t any news about Tony, if he’s still alive or long gone like all the other.

But tonight was none of this times. Somehow you felt a strange emptiness when you stared up at the pale moon, pleading for answers or some help.

But like always the moon stayed silent.

"I-I honestly don't even know what to say anymore. I just wanted to-" you began suddenly, your voice sounded hoarse."To hear your voice again...

Steve said what I'm doing isn't right, that I should try and let go... 'move on' like he expressed."

You let out a dry laugh.

"Honestly I think it's the only words he said in the last time. But Buck I- I can't. I can't let you go. Just like that. You, I-I don't know. I just miss you. So damn much." The last part was only a whisper, barely hearable.

His death had broken something inside of you and you knew I'd would never heal again.

And Bucky was the only thing that could put you back together.

"Listen. I don't care if people say I'm crazy that I'm talking to you, to the moon, to what ever is there... but maybe you do hear me. Wherever you are. I know this wouldn't be what you wanted for me. Sitting here, crying like a little kid. And you have no idea how angry I am with my self that there's nothing I could do. Nothing. I'm constantly  thinking of all the possibilities we have left, what we can do and none of them is ever good enough.

But you know what? I was thinking about it for a quite time actually and I guess I will be joining Steve tomorrow in his self-help group. Or at least I will try. It won't help me, I know that but maybe I could help others, maybe I would be feeling like I'm doing at least something."

You nodded. Maybe...

A cloud suddenly clustered in front of the moon, making the room go darker again.

And with the darkness your loneliness returned

You reached under the pillow on the side where Bucky used to sleep, grabbing his shirt he wore at night.

When you curled your self in the sheets on his bedside you pressed the shirt against your chest, holding it like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And with his scent around you, you closed your eyes. Escaping into some more peaceful memories.

There’s got to be a way...

[elrielllll]

“Perfect” part 3

A/N: As promised :) Also updates after this should be every Sunday x

Today didn’t start well. 

She was late. Not to mention the pounding headache that came from marking into the early hours of the morning, and possibly a little too much wine.

She huffed as she turned into the car park, pushing her glasses up her face, annoyed that she had to wear them but with that headache she just couldn’t manage contacts.

As she pulled in she saw her parking space, or what it used to be, covered by a pile of bricks. 

Not today. 

Today of all days, not today. She didn’t need some thing else to contend with, she thought as she drove off to find another space.

She was still cursing those builders and the school’s long corridors as she ran, or as she preferred to call it, delicately speed walked to her room.

She only just got there in time before her students spilled into her room and she sat down, ready for a long day of teaching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all of the 5 years at this school this had been the worst morning by far. The noise and novelty of the build and the very shirtless sweaty builders, she couldn’t get her kids to concentrate for more than 5 seconds. And all of the previously intellectual questions she was used to receiving had now turned into, 

“miss how do you say “you’re hot” in French?”

“how do you ask someone out in French?”

“don’t you think French is a sexy language miss? I reckon if I asked in french first I’d get their number.”

And whilst she tried to ignore her students and act like the professional adult she was, she couldn’t help but think the same things.

But how did they expect her to concentrate? Let alone teach 30 teenagers. 

She came back to Lucien waving a hand in front of her face “Ellie? Earth to Ellie? Where did you go?” 

“Over there,”she grumbled, gesturing in the general direction of the building site, and the people that came with it. 

Lucien groaned, head in his hands, “not you too, I’ve had to deal with the kids all morning.” 

Elain laughed while also internally crying, “why do they all have to be shirtless?” she asked.

Lucien raised his eyebrows,  “Elain, only one of them is shirtless”

Elain froze mid bite of her sandwich, “No I swear there’s more”, but sure enough when she turned to look out of the window Lucien was right. 

And just her luck, It was Azriel.

She threw her head down and groaned. Typical that the first man she would find attractive since Grayson was her sisters boyfriends brother. 

It sounded like soap opera that she had absolutely no intention of being in. 

Lucien laughed and gave her a quick one armed hug ,“hope you’re less distracted the rest of the day” he said with a wink as headed off. 

But she wasn’t. By the end of the day Elain wanted the builders gone. After only one day dealing with them and being embarrassed by her class, she was fed up. 

So much so that she found herself walking towards the site and the one builder left.

“Hey!” she shouted as she neared, “ are you trying to make my job impossible? Have you ever had to deal with 30 teenagers at once? Well let me tell you it’s not easy, It’s like being in a pit of snakes!”

She stopped the man turned around and familiar hazel eyes met hers.

She stopped, unsure. Should she really be shouting at her sister’s friend?Azriel opened his mouth to speak but she carried on,

“And now with the noise, killing my head and making it a nightmare to teach, especially a different language! And if you wouldn't mind-” 

She stopped her rant as she looked at him. Still shirtless, taking in the tattoos and the muscles and the sheer size of him towering over her. She took a shaky breath and looked at the point on the wall over his shoulder, deciding that it was the only safe place to look.

She finished her rant significantly quieter, “-putting a shirt on”

She let her eyes flick back to him as she saw him reach down for a shirt and pull it on. 

She wasn’t looking at his tattoos swirling up and down the planes of his chest. 

She wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, his deep voice going right through her, “I’ll talk to my guys and we’ll see what we can do about the noise.”

Elain nodded, now daring to make eye contact, “thank you ,” she said, feeling ashamed of shouting, It wasn’t his fault and she knew that, but he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She stuck out her hand, “I’m Elain by the way,”

“Feyre’s sister,” he nodded as he took her small hand in his big one, “I’ve heard lots about you, I’m Azriel.”

She nodded looking down, noticing how her hand was completely enveloped in his, and for the first time noticing the scars that decorated his hands. She hadn’t seen them during his little speech yesterday, but then again she was a bit preoccupied. 

“Beautiful” she breathed. 

Shit. She shouldn’t have said that. Of all the stupid things she could have said, it was probably top of the list. 

She peered up at him, to gauge his reaction, feeling guilty when he blushed faintly and nodded just once. 

Way to make a good impression. 

Elain looked down, realising that her hand was still in his. 

“Well I have to go” she blurted out, withdrawing her hand and clenching it by her side, noting how his stayed in the air between them for just a few seconds longer. 

He nodded .

Elain stood blinking for a moment before he gestured to his work, “um I should” 

“Oh yeah, yes of course sorry,” Elain said plastering a smile on her face and waiting for him to turn around before practically running back to her room and leaning against the door. 

Nice one Elain.

Why did she have to be  so awkward. She just went out there and shouted at him for doing his job and hadn’t even apologised. What was wrong with her?

That was often the case with her temper, she always regretted getting angry afterwards, but never while she was ripping into people. 

She looked down to see her phone ping with a message from Feyre,

 F: Hey! Come round to mine tonight, we’re getting a Chinese x

Elain didn’t have too much work to do tonight and she could use a good catch up with her sister, and Rhys always had good wine. 

E: I’ll be there! On a side note will you apologise to Azriel for me? I may have shouted at him xx

F: Ooh he must have done something wrong if YOU shouted at him. But he’ll be there so you can tell him yourself! ;)

That probably wasn’t the best idea, she’d probably make a fool of herself again. Yeah that sounds about right. But she did owe him an apology and she was going to have to do it sometime. And preferably not in front of a group of teenagers. 

Not that Feyre’s family were much better. 

She grabbed her keys and headed out to her car dropping Lucien a text that she was off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Azriel had had one hell of a first day. When he took the job he thought he would be working over the holidays, with no kids. Or people in general. He though Rhys had known that and assumed he wouldn’t have brought the job up otherwise. 

Azriel had apparently underestimated how much his family wanted him home. 

It had started off with that speech yesterday, public speaking was not his forte, but he could manage talking to adults. 

Teenage girls however, were not manageable.

Every time he saw a group giggling in the corner while stealing glanced when they thought that he wasn’t looking he wanted to jump into the hole they were digging and stay in there, perhaps be buried alive. 

He wouldn’t have objected to it right then. 

And just when he thought he might finally have some peace Feyre’s sister came storming out, guns blazing. .

He’d seen her a couple times throughout the day in her classroom,  when he’d stopped for a moment  and she seemed invested, using wild hand gestures to get her point across. 

Though she didn’t use them when she was annoyed apparently. 

Thinking back he turned away from her too fast. It was rude and he was politer than that, but in his defence it had been a while since he had made an effort with someone, or even made a friend. He kept himself to himself while he was in London.

He  put it out of his mind as he pulled up to Rhys and Feyre’s apartment and headed up the stairs. He was pretty sure he could already hear Cassian’s voice echoing down the hall followed by Mor’s indignant cry. 

It was like he’d never left. 

He smiled as he pushed the door open and was bombarded with a hug from Mor. 

“I missed you” he said around a mouthful of hair.

“I missed you too,” Mor shouted in his ear, “I can’t believe that you didn’t come and visit once!”

Azriel winced, “ I was busy”

Mor waggled her eyebrows, “ I bet you were in high demand”

Chuckling, Azriel made his way next to the couch and sank down next to Cassian who passed him a beer with a grin. 

“Speaking of high demand, how was your first day at the new job?” Rhysand asked from where he was sat on the opposite couch with Feyre, eyes dancing. 

“Hell.” Azriel, cracking open his drink and taking a long swig. 

“Oh do tell,” said Rhys through a half smirk.

Azriel pointed at him, “you know very well how it went,”

Rhys only laughed as Cassian pushed, “Come on Az, it reminds us of being in school, tell us.”

“That is not something I want to re live thank you,” Azriel grumbled. 

“Oi we tried to make you popular but you were too damn scary” Cassian protested.

Cassian and Rhys were on the rugby team all through school, and everyone knows that the rugby team was a free pass to an easy ride through school. Azriel was more focused on important stuff like athletics, and Mor, who coincidentally came with it, being the star of long jump. 

Thank god that crush had passed, he was happy to see Mor with her girlfriend, they all were. 

“Where’s Emma?” Azriel asked, subtly trying to change the subject.

“Working late,” Mor replied, “but that’s not what we want to talk about” she sang.

“I had a gaggle of teenage girls staring at me at all times. And some of the boys.” Azriel admitted. 

They all burst out laughing as Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder and said, “Well you can’t really blame them” 

“I second that,” Mor piped up.

“I just want to work”, Azriel said, exasperated.

“Are you kidding?  Soak up all the attention, that’s what I do. Whenever I need an ego boost, I just head into Feyre’s class and flex a bit” Rhys said, demonstrating. 

“I thought you were coming in to see me,” Feyre said as she smacked him over the head with a pillow. 

Cassian’s laugh boomed around the room as Rhys yelped.

“I’m not trying to be a pig but where’s the food?” Mor said frowning at Rhys who was still rubbing his head looking betrayed.

“Pig,” Cassian quipped and got a pillow to the head as well from Feyre. 

“We’re waiting for everyone to get here.” Feyre said as she sat back down, glaring at the boys. 

They all looked around the room confused. Azriel could see Cassian counting on his fingers and looking at Feyre like she was crazy. They were all here, who where they waiting for? Amren was in Australia with Varian, and Nesta  had gone to school down south so it wasn’t her-

And just then the door cracked open and Elain slipped through with a shy smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Tags:

@stars-falling​ @abraxos-is-toothless​ @cirieael​ @suppengott @candid-confetti​ @nite0wl29​ @tyheronthorn​ @negativenesta​ @sleeping-and-books​ @awkward-avocado-s​

[shittylongcatposts]

After seeing your day was kinda meh, I felt like writing a little something for you! It’s nothing amazing, but I hope it cheers you up a bit ~ also I did not proof read this in the slightest so I’m sorry if this has mistakes lol would it really be me if I did though lbr lmao

I love you a ton!! Sending lots of hugs and fluffy Luca cuddles your way! You may even touch the butt I’m sure, since baby was in a slightly better mood today!! Still angy tho qwq 

…I can’t believe Tumblr forced me to use my real email address. Criminals! The lot of them!

Enough rambling from me lmao, enjoy yourself some well deserved Juju luv ^-^

Relieved to have finally made it out of the office, Jumin stepped through the door into the walls of his home. Lately work seemed to be piling up relentlessly. Despite the CEO’s amount of professionalism, the load started to get to his core. It was unnerving. Letting out a tired sigh, he freed himself of his jacket and loosened his tie. Due to all the excitement of the day, it almost felt like it was choking him. 

“Mc? Darling? I am home.” He looked around the penthouse, trying to catch a glimpse of his wife. To his dismay, she did not seem to be around currently. Not even Elizabeth came to greet him. A bit disappointing but not out of the ordinary. At least the absence of his pet assured him Mc was somewhere in their shared home. 

Sure enough, after searching through all the most likely places Mc could be holed up in, he recognized the back of her head in one of the chairs on the balcony. Happy to have finally found her, Jumin smiled to himself as he stepped outside. 

“Good evening, my love.”

Mc turned to him and greeted him with a court smile. “Hey.”

She was leaned back in the chair’s soft cushioning, softly petting Elizabeth and holding a glass of red wine. A glance to the bottle on the table revealed that she hadn’t had many glasses yet, but her eyes did seem a bit unfocused. 

“Did you eat? The wine seems to be getting to you quite quickly.”, he chuckled. 

Shrugging in response, Mc looked back over the city stretching in front of them. 

“Is something the matter? Are you drinking out of frustration?”

“Kind of. How was work?”

Jumin took a glass for himself out of the compartment hidden underneath the table and poured himself, before taking a seat next to her. 

“It was work I suppose. Lately it seems like the requests of our business partners are beyond nonsensical. It is infuriating and gives me a headache just thinking about it.” Not wanting to bore her with details, he kept it short, directing the conversation back to her instead. “What is it that has you reaching for wine out of all things. It’s not your favourite beverage.”

A bitter chuckle swept over Mc’s lips. “Couldn’t find anything else. Besides, it completes my suffering just fine.”

The dramatic wording was quite amusing to him. Yet, he did not dismiss the importance of the problem at hand. 

“Would you like to talk about it.” He reached out to touch her arm, giving it a light squeeze. “You know you don’t have to keep anything from me.”

Mc turned to look at him, her eyes filled with warmth as she took him in. She didn’t have to say anything to let him know how much she appreciated his concern. It was written all over her face and enforced by her relaxed posture. 

“Just the usual. I guess I’m just a bit tired lately, so it strains me a lot more than it would otherwise. There’s no real point at chewing it out.”, she explained calmly. 

Mc took another big sip from her glass, emptying it, before lifting the soft animal of her lap and placing herself in her husband’s arms. Jumin chuckled at her bold move but adjusted his seating to be more comfortable for the both of them. Then, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. Closing his eyes he let her closeness wash over him, taking the last bit of stress out of his bones. He could only hope his presence did the same for her. Humming a little melody, he let his hand wander up and down her arm, very slowly and just firm enough for her to be able to feel it through her clothes. Slowly but surely her breathing evened out more and more. 

“I love you, Jumin.” The little yawn she let out as she spoke almost drowned out her words. Even without her vocalizing what she was thinking, he could easily feel it just by holding her like this. 

“I love you too, Mc. Rest. I’ll stay here with you.” His low whisper drew a sight out of her. Smiling softly, she nuzzled her face into his chest. Adorable. 

His wife’s sleepiness seemed to take over him as well. His eyes started to feel heavier. It was a bit unfortunate, for he wished to watch her like this just a little longer. Just before he felt his consciousness slipping away, he tightened his embrace and placed a soft kiss on top of her head. Tomorrow, Jumin promised her in his mind, he would make sure her day would go a lot more smoothly. 

Ahhhhh!!!!!!! @space-kitten-606​ i saw this appearing in my inbox yesterday but,... well you know..red wine and me don’t get along too well... anyways! Thank chuuuu for this my dear, you’re the best!!!! This made my day soooo much better, I cried just a little bit and am still sobbing but i gotta say: THIS IS AMAZING!!! I love your writing! well you already know that too

[coffecatsandbooks]

Die From A Broken Heart

In which Peter wonders if he’ll die from a broken heart and his Dad’s are there to help him get through it.

Warnings: Just a heart break.

Based off the song Die From A Broken Heart by Maddie & Tae

-

Hey mama how do you get a red wine stain out of your favorite dress? Black mascara off a pillow case, cure a one too many headache? Mama can I come and maybe stay a few days this weekend or next? And hey, how do you get a red wine stain out of your favorite dress?

Peter didn’t know how he’d ended up at the Tower with tears already threatening to spill. He knew his Dad and Pops would welcome him with open arms, but he was scared that if they did so, he would crack. Peter didn’t understand how it all happened. It was so fast, one minute they were just fine and the next they weren’t and Peter couldn’t pinpoint when it all actually went to shit. Maybe when they’d argued in the car over classes being missed or when he started to come home to the stench of alcohol. He didn’t get what had changed.

Whatever it was, it had a good grip on Wade, because now they were through. Oh God, they were through. Four years wasted. Peter’s heart felt as though it’d been stabbed and someone was twisting the blade to make it all the more painful.

“Are you okay Peter?” FRIDAY’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” Peter didn’t even know he’d gotten into the elevator. His body felt as though it was on autopilot. “Yeah Fri, I’m okay. Just- I really want to talk to my Dad.” His voice cracked a bit and he swallowed back tears.

“He’s in the Penthouse Livingroom Peter, with your Pops. They are watching TV. Would you like me to announce that you are coming?” The AI system asked as the elevator slowly made it’s way up to the penthouse he called home. The Avengers Tower was his home. That made his lips curl up a bit. He was in one of the safest places on earth, no one would ever hurt him here and that thought calmed his mind out a bit. He knew that everyone here would die to protect him. Not just his fathers, but his aunts and uncles too. It made him warm inside.

“Yes Friday, you can tell them. It will be a surprise though, they don’t know I’m on my way up,” he explained. He hadn’t told them he was coming over and to be honest, he hadn’t even known he was. Peter had just started walking to clear his head, to get out of that apartment, his legs brought him here. Peter’s stomach churned at the thought of everything that happened just a few short hours ago.

When the elevator door dinged open, he walked inside. He didn’t have the faintest clue on what he was going to say to explain why he was here. He didn’t even know if he was ready to tell his parents that they were broken up. The wound was just a couple hours old and it burned him. It made his heart ache and limbs go numb and it made him cry until his ribs were sore. He didn’t know what to do.

“Hey Pete, what brings you here?” Tony asked, smiling, turning his head away from the TV to look at Peter. Steve turned his head to look at Peter too, smiling. Both fathers smiles faltered, however, when they saw the red around Peters eyes and the stained tear tracks down Peter’s face. His white shirt had a red blotch at the bottom left corner and his hair was a bit of everywhere. The boy looked like an absolute wreak.

Both fathers stood up and looked at Peter. “Are you okay Peter?” Steve asked first, a bit hesitantly.

Peter felt his throat close a bit and when he answered, his voice was strained. “How do you get a red wine stain out of your favorite shirt Dad?” He looked down at the ruined shirt and fiddled with the bottom of it.

“What?” Tony asked, confused. The boy was upset because of a red wine stain?

“H-how do you get a red wine stain out of your favorite shirt?” Peter asked again with tears building up in his eyes. A few slipped out and down his cheeks and soon, the whole damn broke. “How do you get old tear stains out of a pillow case? How do you cure one too many headaches?” Peter then fell to his knees and his body wracked sobs. It hurt so much, God it hurt so much. He gasped in breath in-between sobs. It felt as though he couldn’t bring in air and that only made him cry harder.

His fathers were by his side in an instant. Tony on the right and Steve on the left. Tony whispered soothing words while Steve rubbed his back, neither pushing Peter to explain why he was in the state he was in.

Peter didn’t know how long he was curled up, in the floor, crying, but it didn’t matter to his Dads. Both stayed by his side until, eventually, he could reign back in his emotions and his sobs had become small hiccups and sniffles. It was quite and he leaned into his Dad. “Can I stay here a few days?”

He felt his father nod. “Of course Petey. You can always stay here as long as you’d like.”

His Pops then spoke up, “your Dad and I would love the company too. We miss having you around.”

Peter nodded, looking down at the floor. “Wade left.”

Can you ask Daddy if he’s got time to come and look at my front door? It got slammed last night and now it don’t close right. And just promise that you won’t tell him everything to leave that pistol in the drawer and Mama please don’t say, I’m gonna laugh about this some day. You didn’t see the way he drove away. 

Not long after breaking the news that the love of his life just left him, his fathers swept him off his feet (quite literally, might Peter add, his Pops had carried him bridal shower) to his bedroom where he set him down on his old blue and red Captain America bed covers. (Laugh all you want, but his Pops was more than proud that Peter wanted covers that represented him and his shield). Steve and Tony turned, whispering in low voices and Peter just picked at the frayed edges of the comforter. Oh how he wished to be a child again. To not have any care in the world and not know what love was and how much it hurt when it broke. To be in this tower again, feeling like he do and be anything. He had been so tired.

Silent tears now streamed down the boys still dampened cheeks. End of the year exams were going to be here in just two short months and Peter had shut himself up to study in the library all hours of the night and then when he did come home, Wade was never there and if he was, he was being loud and drunk. Peter was spending more time in the lab these last few weeks, then he’d had the whole year. Between Wade’s loud drinking, the library, and the lab, he never got to see the bed. He also was out patrolling early every morning and some in the late afternoons, making sure the city was safe. He was so tired.

He was so tired in fact, that he didn’t even realize he was slowly drifting into unconsciousness.

The next morning, he awoke with the rush of memories from yesterday and a pounding headache. He groaned as light streamed in from the windows of his room.

“Now that’s not a way to great the sun,” a voice said and Peter jumped a bit, sitting up in bed. Across the room sat his Dad in a plush, black chair. He wore a gray robe and slippers accompanied by a pair of glasses and a book in his hand. 

“Have you been watching me sleep Dad?” His voice croaked out. “That’s weird.”

Tony gave him a soft smile. “Your Pops is on his morning run, he’s going to be a bit longer today, he’s blowing off a bit of steam.”

Peter’s heart sank. He knew what that meant. He was mad at Wade. “Oh Dad,” Peter brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. It was only then he realized that his stained shirt and his shoes had been removed. His jeans and socks from last night though, still remained on his body. He scrunched up his nose. He should probably take a shower soon.

“I don’t know what happened,” tears started to sting the back of his eyes. “One minute we were just fine and then the next... we just started hanging out less and staying out more, but it was for different reasons. I’ve been studying and patrolling and I’ve been in the lab working on some new webs and I’ve just been so out of here and Wade,” Peter sniffled, God he swears he could cry for hours upon hours over this. “Wade started staying out and drinking and I just thought that maybe-” Peter stopped looking at his Dad now, who had placed the book he was reading onto Peter’s old desk and taken a place at the foot of the bed. “Dad you can’t tell Pops everything, promise me! Tell him to keep that shield by his bedside drawers, it’s not needed, really Dad, please.”

Tony gave Peter a chuckle and grin. “I promise, but he only wants to protect you.”

Peter sighed. “I know, but he can get this silent mad and-”

Tony lifted up a hand and Peter stopped. “I know Pete, now continue.”

Peter looked down at his hands. “I just thought that he was doing it to take the edge off. School has been so stressful, so I didn’t pay it any mind until it started every night and soon, he started coming home, smelling of other people,” a fresh new set of tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks. “So I fixed him dinner and he didn’t come home until later. Dinner was cold and everything. I’d had some wine on me, so when he came in, I asked where he’d been. He wreaked of alcohol and sweat and cheap perfume,” Peter cried. “I just told him he couldn’t do it and he flipped out. Telling me that I was out too, but I was studying! Dad-” Peter leaped from the bed and onto the hardwood floor, now pacing. “he was cheating. He was drinking and when I confronted him, he went to wave a hand and the wine went all over me and the glass went onto the floor and shattered. He was so angry Dad, he just left. He told me he couldn’t do it and I can’t either Dad,” Peter’s voice broke and his next sentence came out a whimper. “I can’t and don’t say that I’ll laugh about this someday Dad, you didn’t see the way he left.”

Tony stood up and enveloped his son in a hug and Peter cried. He sounded so hurt like a wounded baby animal and Tony wanted nothing more than to kill Wade himself, but figured it not wise and it wouldn’t help Peter any.

Once the tears were replaced with sniffles, Peter asked, “Can Pops come and fix my door? It got slammed last night and now it won’t close right. It didn’t when I left.”

“Of course he can Peter,” Tony said softly and Peter smiled.

Can your knees give out from praying so hard? Can you go blind from crying in the dark? Was it ever really real, if he don’t feel like I feel. How does he sleep at night? Mama the nerve of this guy to leave me, so easy. Am I gonna be all right? How does he sleep at night? Mama the nerve of this guy, to leave me, so easy. Am I gonna be all right? I wanna kick myself for falling so hard, Mama can you die from a broken heart? 

Tony and Peter laid in Peter’s bed cuddling until Steve got home. When Steve got there they all decided that he and Peter would get a shower and Tony would order take out. They were going to have a movie day.

When Peter was young, if he was getting picked on too bad at school or if he was sad that his fathers had went away on a mission too long or if Peter was sick and stuck at home, they’d have movie days. It always cheered him up, just him and his dads with a bunch of cool and funny movies with take out food, lounging around in sweats. It was the days he’d live for when he was younger.

While Peter was in the shower, before Steve could hop in his, he looked at Tony. “Is he okay?”

Tony gave his husband a sad smile. “He will be. He’s just heartbroken at the moment. With time, it’ll heal.”

Steve gave Tony a hard look. “Wade?”

Tony stifled a laugh. “Keep your shield on you Cap.”

Steve nodded and headed towards the shower. Tony shook his head.

An hour or so later, they were all in sweats, cuddling on the couch with waffle house in their laps and a movie playing on the TV. It was some action movie with Dwayne Johnson and some female he couldn’t remember the name of and they had some love connection and it pissed Peter off a bit. Movies were so fake. When Mr. Johnson kissed the woman, Peter felt another piece of his heart crack, as if it weren’t cracked to bits anyway.

Peter looked down at the waffle in his lap. “Was it ever really real?” He asked and his Pops looked at him.

“Was what real?”

This had Tony’s attention. Peter rested his head against his Pops. “Was it ever really real, if he don’t feel like I feel? He’s probably out with-” again with the tears, Peter felt like screaming. The more his sadness peeled away, the more anger it was replaced with. He huffed. “How does he sleep at night? The nerve of him!” The tears that now stained his cheeks were born from rage. “To leave me, so easy. As if I wasn’t with him four years!” Peter’s voice started to become shrill and more tears fell. “I loved him so much. I loved him before I even got with him.” The heart that Peter had tried to keep together, shattered and he let out angry sobs. His fathers held him close to him, making it known that they were there and letting him cry out all his sorrows and woes. They knew he’d bounce back, it’d just take the boy time. “I wanna kick myself for falling so hard guys,” he looked at Tony and the boys broken look made Tony ache. “Dad, Pops- Am I gonna be alright?” He asked lowly, sobbing. “Can you die from a broken heart?”

Tony and Steve shared concerned glances.

“Hey bear,” Steve whispered and Peter sniffled. “You are so much better than him and one day you’re not even going to think about how sad and hurt you were because it’ll all be the past and you’ll have found someone to love you for you. This is hard now bear, but you can push through this.”

Peter curled into his fathers, “I just- the apartment-”

“You can come stay here for as long as you’d like. You don’t even have to go back if you don’t want too. We can clean it up and if Wade comes back-”

“We can hit him,” Steve said, interrupting Tony who scolded his husband.

“No, we can let him get his things and inform him of your move.” Tony finished, glaring playfully at Steve who just gave him a crooked grin.

Peter smiled a bit. “Really?” 

“Really, really,” Tony said, nodding. Steve too.

Peter sighed. He really did have the best family and he knew that if that’s what he wanted they’d do it. He had to say, it was an offer he didn’t want to refuse and in the end, didn’t. He nodded slowly. “Okay, so I can move back in?”

“Whenever you want Underoos,” Tony grinned, pleased that he had won his only son over to the idea of living with them again, at least until he finished college, that is.

“Tomorrow then, Today I wanna watch movies with the two fathers who are trying to fix a heart that they didn’t break,” Peter smiled and looked back to the movie.

He really would be okay and no. He would not die from a broken heart. His fathers would make sure of it.

Fin.

This was trash, thanks for reading! 

[baretklap]

Tales of Mind Control #5: A Debt Repaid

(Note: This is a direct continuation of Tales of Mind Control #4: A Debt Unpaid. You don’t need to read that to enjoy this but know that they are very well connected.)

Not even the very soft surface of the bed Liz found herself waking up made it more familiar to her. After gaining more of her sight through rubbing her eyes, it was even easier for Liz to come to the conclusion that she wasn’t just waking up in an unfamiliar bed, she was also waking up in a room she never remembered being in before. That was definitely weird and the only reason she didn’t consider the situation scary was because of the observation that the room not looking like a typical room anyone would mysteriosly wake up to. It was very pleasant room probably belonging to a young girl, actually, but still, it was a room that belonged to a stranger and Liz had to think and get some answers. The last thing Liz remembered was… …that she was celebrating her 20th birthday party at the club. It was a very intense party with strong alcohol, very loud music and friends even louder than the music so it was easy to come to the conclusion that it was a hangover situation for the girl that was the birthday girl just yesterday. Nothing said not being a teen anymore than having random hangovers and waking up in random beds like that. Though a discovery that was going to be made just a second later would prove that it wasn’t as random as Liz thought it was as a framed picture that was standing on the nightstand that was just standing next to the bed. The picture had two girls, one younger girl that Liz didn’t recognize but one older that Liz did. It was Victoria, one of her friends from college. But as old questions were answered, new ones arise but even before Liz could get the chance to search for answers, she heard a knock on the door and a voice that she was certain belonged to Victoria. “Liz? I heard some noises, are you awake?” Yes, that was indeed her. Liz needed no further proof to understand that she had drunk too much and went to Victoria’s home before who knows what had happened and she woke up in her house as well. But it seems getting lost in her thoughts did not make even the simplest conversation. “Oh, I guess no-“ “No, no, I’m awake. Come in.” Liz said after she was snapped out of her mental gymnastics about what happened last night. The door instantly opened and Victoria entered the room with a smile on her face. “Good morning, Liz. Have you slept well?” “I guess so?” Liz replied while scratching her head and pulling the sheets off herself. She then slightly raised her upper body to take a standing position because she was pretty certain she could fall asleep again if she continued lying in such a soft bed. “Good to hear that.” “What happened yesterday? Why am I here?” Liz said with reasonable concern in her voice. Victoria was quick to answer though. “You…were blackout drunk yesterday and it didn’t look like you could safely make your way home so I took you in and made you sleep on my younger sister’s room because she’s off the town with my parents.” “Oh. That makes sense.” Liz then stood up, got herself off the bed and let out a huge yawn. Staring at her friend, she once again asked a question she felt like she needed to ask because honestly Liz had heard lots of hangover stories before that was more than bringing someone home and giving them their younger sister’s room to sleep. “Did we…’do it’, yesterday?” Victoria quickly raised her hands and her eyes opened wide. “N-no! Of course not! You were blackout drunk, Liz, what kind of a person you take me for?” Victoria’s defensive nature and the fact that she had indeed (even if it was unknowingly) accused Vic of such a horrible act made Liz quickly backtrack. “I’m sorry, Vic. I’m…just confused.” “It’s okay, Liz, I’m guessing it’s your first hangover.” “Yeah, you can say so.” Liz let out a chuckle which Victoria replied with a laugh of her own. The hungover girl then headed for the door before giving her friend one last look. “Thanks for keeping me safe, Vic, you’re a true friend. But I have to return home, you know, Eva is probably worried to death right now.” Eva, the woman who dropped everything to take care of her after Liz’ mother had died in a car crash. Eva, who made her hair a broom for Liz. The fact that she was possibly worrying herself to death right now made Liz feel very uneasy and she knew she had a lot of apologizing to do. “Oh, I understand. No need to thank me, Liz, that’s what friends do.” Victoria gave her friend one last smile before Liz rushed down the stairs, took all her belongings from the living room and called a taxi that would take her back home. The driver was thankfully a woman because Liz was still in her party clothes and it wouldn’t be exactly true to call her clothing modest. The trip back to home was over after a few minutes. During the ride, Liz also checked her phone but surprisingly there were no missed calls or worrying texts from Eva, it was strange given how overprotective she sometimes acted. But she was twenty now, she guessed Eva also knew that and did not want to track down a grown-ass woman in order to save both of them the embarassment. Liz paid the driver before swiftly getting of her taxi and using her key to enter her home. Home sweet home. “Eva, I’m back!” She called out but nobody answered. That meant Eva was either out in the town or sitting in the balcony sipping on her wine alone and listening to the sad songs playing in radio. Liz didn’t exactly blame the older woman for mourning the life she could’ve had but given up in order to raise her. But she would be eternally grateful. Liz had just arrived home so going back in the town was out of the question, causing her to head for the balcony, well, after getting out of her party clothes and putting one new, more modest ones, of course. As she was walking there, the first sight she got was…very surprising. Eva didn’t look sad, for once. She was happy. And most importantly, she wasn’t sipping her wine alone. She was actually sharing her wine with another woman, they were chatting, laughing and seemed to have an overall good time. Liz didn’t recognize that woman but she could swear she didn’t look entirely unfamiliar. Still, she continued her march towards the balcony and tapped the glass, getting the attention of the two women happily drinking their wines. After realizing Liz was home, Eva got up from her chair and opened the door to the balcony with sliding it to the right. Liz entered the balcony and was immediately greeted by a hug from Eva. “Welcome home, sweetheart! How was your birthday party?” Liz hugged the older woman back, not that she could break free with how enthusiastic Eva tended to be with her hugs. “It was good, I think. Had a hangover for the first time!” Hearing that part about ‘hungover’, Eva broke the hug and gave a interrogating look at the girl she considered a daughter to her. “Hangover? Did…anything happen?” Eva also sounded she had very valid concerns about that fact but Liz was quick to extinguish those concerns for her. “No, no. A friend took me home and let me sleep in her sister’s bed. Everything is alright, Eva, no need to worry.” After being successful in calming Eva down, Liz got the opportunity to take a look at her friend closer than before. She looked beautiful, truly a unique kind of beauty with her eyes that seemed to be heterochromiac. Liz gave her a smile and a small wave (that earned a cute chuckle from the guest woman) before turning to Eva. “So, who’s your friend?” Eva replied with such a big smile that Liz could not even remember having seen such a big one in her face before. “Oh, she’s Katie. An old friend of mine. She visited me yesterday and then we hit it off and then…you know…” Eva then doubled down on her uncharacteristic happiness and actually let out a giggle that resembled one that would belong to a school girl, just when Liz thought she have seen everything. This time, she hugged Eva. “Oh my god! I’m so happy to hear that! Congratulations!” “Aww…thank you dear.” Liz broke the hug as Eva’s girlfriend grabbed a seat and adjusted it, patting it and inviting Liz to sit, which she did. “So, you’re the young Elizabeth that Eva told me so much about. Nice to meet you dear, I’m Katie.” Katie reached out with her hand to Liz, which the younger girl excitedly took and shook. “The people who know me usually call me Liz, but thank you, it’s also nice to meet someone that brings so much joy to Eva’s life.” “It’s not a big deal. She brings so much joy to my existence too.” More Liz continued to look at Katie, the more she was certain she recognized her from somewhere. While Eva and Katie stopped paying her attention and started flirting again, Liz almost got a headache from the way she tried to dive deep into her thoughts and memories to finally understand how she remembered that woman. But in the end, rather excitedly, she interrupted their conversation. “By the way guys, is Katie the woman in the picture inside that drawer? Because the entire time she looked so familiar and I tried so hard to remember how…” That revelation seemed to make Eva blush a little as Katie let a lovely laugh escape her lips. “Yes, yes, I also found out during my visit that Eva kept an old picture of us.” “Stop embarassing me, dear…” A lot of things could be said about Liz, and she having a strong memory was one of them. She didn’t remember when she last took a look at that picture but she remembered Eva being much younger in that picture, while Katie looked…exactly as how she looked now. “You look as young as you looked in that picture, Katie.” Another laugh came out of Katie. “Thank you! I have a very good skin-care routine.” That got an awkward smile out of Liz as she ran out of things to say. Instead, she let the lovers continue to talk while she didn’t touch the wine at all, it would be for the best if she didn’t touch alcohol for a while after what happened at her birthday party. In the end, Liz eventually got bored from being the third wheel as Eva and Katie just talked and flirted and cuddled to celebrate their relationship. She got out of her seat and offered the couple yet another awkward smile before heading out of the balcony again. “Well, it would be for the best if I just left the loving couple alone. Once again, congratulations to you guys and Katie, please, treat her right, she deserves it.” “Oh, I will.” The reply came instantly but got no reaction from the younger girl as she was out of the balcony pretty quick. Liz reached to her phone again and dialed up Victoria’s number. “Hey girl, things are fine in home. Eva wasn’t freaking out or whatsoever and I have nothing to do. Wanna meet-up again in the town?” Victoria accepted her offer and thus, Elizabeth packed some of her stuff and once again left her home to meet with Victoria. As two girls, two friends hanged out in the town, Liz started to think about Katie and Eva again. The sides to their relationship and mostly their conversation that she for some reason didn’t think of thinking about back when she was sitting in the balcony with the newly-formed couple. Katie…seemed nice but she was…a little…peculiar, to say the least. The words she used, her speech patterns, how she insisted on calling her Elizabeth, the way even she moved sometimes, not to mention her perfect skin-care that shouldn’t even be possible. Oh, and the worst of them was how Katie looked at her. With lust, with want. Thinking about all of that stuff initially ruined the fun she wanted to have with Victoria but after a few activities, Liz stopped having Katie living inside her head rent-free and instead focused on her time with Victoria. But even that time had eventually came to an end much to Liz’ displeasure. She returned home not too late after that. After entering her home again, Liz’ legs carried her upstairs so she can go to her room to finally get some rest after a tiring day. But when she was about to take a turn to the left and reach fort he door of her own room, she heard some…noises….coming out of…of course, Eva’s bedroom. And it was pretty clear what kind of noises they were. She hated that they were freely having sex knowing Liz will return home later…but Liz hated more that it actually aroused her. Eva, as much of a mother figure she had been to Liz during her entire life, was a very stunning woman even in her forties. Liz had more fantasies about her than she would like to admit, fantasies that she was one hundred percent sure she would never act on. And even with dozens of red flags, Katie was almost as beautiful as Eva and was a sight to behold herself. Liz would never act on her fantasies, for sure, but she didn’t have a rule against watching people who would……oh god, what was she thinking? Liz was just going to lock herself in her room, pull herself under a thousand blankets and act like nothing is happening in Eva’s bedroom…whose door happens to be slightly open… Within seconds, Liz finds herself just behind the door and peeking slightly, only being able to see the figures of two lovers…loving each other while one of her hands reach further down South to caress her wet spot while she actively commits voyeurism on her mother figure having sex, that was the barest possible explanation and it made Liz feel both worse and hornier. As Liz took another half step toward, one thought was on her mind: ‘If I’m going hell, then I might as well go all the way in’. After that, Liz found out that she could now even hear and understand the whisperings during their sex. Eva’s tone was much more desperate than Katie’s which indicated the new woman in her life was very skilled in that…not that Liz cared about that…did she? ‘Please, Mistress…’ Whoa, wait? Mistress? Damn, she definitely didn’t knew Eva was that kinky even if some magazines she found in home indicated she was at least a little kinky. “Please let me cum, you haven’t let me orgasm even once since yesterday…” Eva’s pleas totally fell on deaf ears as Katie replied with nothing but a chuckle. Meanwhile, Liz’s hand that was playing with her pussy was going even faster as Liz did her best to suppress her moans and keep her voyeurism a secret from them. She hears Katie’s voice after that. “You still haven’t paid your debt to me, Eva.” Debt? Just what kind of kinky roleplay they were doing? “But luckily, you’re about to…” Liz didn’t understand much about the situation but she understood very well that it was one of the hottest things she had experienced in her entire life despite how wrong it felt. Especially because of how wrong it felt. “I know you’re watching us, young Elizabeth.” That last sentence that came so smugly out of Katie’s mouth filled Liz with so much panic and fear that she let out an audible ‘eep’ before trying to run away…only to trip herself and fall inside the bedroom of Eva. She was caught red-handed and now she made a fool out of herself in front of them. Just as Liz thought nothing could go worse, the universe proved her wrong once again because she was pretty sure she heard the door shut before she got up from the floor and looked at Eva and Katie who were both naked and in front of their sex. But there was something really wrong. Eva’s eyes were glowing in a shade of violent and Liz took enough biology classes to know human eyes weren’t supposed to glow that way. Just what the hell was happening here and why it was happening to her, to Eva, to them? “Oh, don’t be upset! We were already waiting for you, weren’t we, Eva?” “Yes, Mistress.” Just in seconds, all her horniness turned into fear as nothing made sense anymore while Liz could do nothing but watch as the woman that raised her wrapped around another woman with magic or something like that. Liz’ hands reached to the door but it was locked, she didn’t even know why she tried either, of course it was locked. “Go and catch her.” “Yes, Mistress.” Liz at that point pretty much knew she had nothing to do but she still banged on the door. It wasn’t long before Eva walked to her, got behind her and pinned her arms behind herself. The woman that had given up so much for her had now betrayed her, her mind under a spell who knows how. She had lost. Still, that didn’t stop her from shouting at the vile woman that orchestrated all of this madness. “What have you done to her, you witch!” Katie seemed too amused at hearing her scream like that. “A witch, she says. Why yes, Elizabeth, I exactly am a witch.” Was that even a surprise anymore? “I did to your precious Eva whatever I’m going to do to you. Years ago, me and her made a deal. Whatever she wanted was just to reach her climax during a sex and she agreed to give up her most precious thing to me. After I made her cum, she was indebted to me, so I came here to collect. My debt is you, young Elizabeth.” As Liz tries to squirm in Eva’s clutches to break free, Katie gets closer to the young woman and just breathes into her face which seemed to pin Liz wherever she is. Her movement is stopped, but she could still feel her mind and still think how fucked she is. Katie follows that with an intense command. “Focus on me.” Instantly, Liz finds that she cannot take away her eyes from Katie. She cannot think anything not about Katie. She only sees Katie, only hears and smells Katie. If she could focus anything else than Katie, she could’ve seen that Eva was in the same position too. In fact, it had affected the older woman so much that her grip on Liz was practically non-existent now. Not that Liz could feel that. “Open your mind to me, Elizabeth.” “Yes….” Elizabeth replies with her mind even more open to the witch while Eva doesn’t because the command wasn’t directed at her. “Listen to my words as they imprint themselves on your mind.” “Listen…” “Yes…” Two women replied at the same time. “You are weak and helpless under my power.” “We are weak and helpless under your power.” “I have caged your minds and there’s not a key.” “You have caged our minds…” “I own you completely.” “You own us completely.” “Mind, body and soul.” “Mind, body and soul.” “You will surrender to me.” “We will surrender to you.” “You will submit to me.” “We will submit to you.” “You will obey me.” “We will obey you.” “You will serve me for the rest of your lives.” “We will serve you for the rest of our lives.” Repeating all of the mantras, Elizabeth truly let them imprinted onto her mind. The mind that belonged to Mistress Katie now. She would happily surrender, submit, obey and serve. She had no other purpose now, neither did Eva. They would happily be Katie’s slaves forever. “But most importantly, you’re finally mine, Elizabeth.” Katie said as she gently grabbed Elizabeth’s chin. “I’m yours, Mistress.” “Perfect, Eva, help her undress too.” “Yes, Mistress.” Eva quickly put her hands on Elizabeth’s clothes and four hands worked together to strip Elizabeth as quickly as possible. Once she was totally in her birthday suit, Katie licked her lips. “Now, kneel, Elizabeth.” She obeyed instantly, much to Katie’s pleasure. Then the witch’s head turned to the woman she enslaved earlier. Eva had a mindless smile on her beautiful face. “Your debt has been paid...” Katie said before her hand reached between Eva’s legs. Eva screamed.

[pietromelim]

A Thomas Lightwood Bisexual Story (Part 2 and final) takes place after Chain of Gold so will have spoilers!!

-That is quite the story. Though i must admit,i would never expect such a thing from you,Tom.-Matthew said,with a grin on his face.

Thomas really wanted to hide his face in a hole somewhere,he knew that at least one of his friends would make fun of him because of the way they found him at the Devil Tavern.

And of course,it had to be Matthew,which wasn't that surprising,since he was the Libertine of The Merry Thieves. James and Christopher were too shocked to tease him about anything.

-Not sure if i will ever even sit on that bed again. Perhaps it would be better if Christopher burned those sheets.-Said James.

-Indeed! I have always wanted to set fire in that bed. It annoyed me,though i can't recall the reason why.-Said Christopher.

Thomas rolled his eyes.

-Do as you please. It's not like something like this will ever happen again. I was a little drunk yesterday as well,surely we can blame this on the alcohol.-Said Thomas.

-If you say so. Perhaps we could just ask the Italian girl if we see her. It is very likely that she will appear at the Institute eventually.-Said Matthew.

-Then i should really make myself scarce.-Thomas said.

-Why worry? I was under the impression that she told you herself that it would mean nothing,and that it wouldn't be like you ruined her.-James asked.

-It would still be very awkward. I am such an awful pill! I was out of my mind completely! My mother would be ashamed of what i did! And Eugenia...-Thomas was saying,but Matthew stopped him.

-There is absolutely no need to fret over this,Thomas. Let it be then. This girl is probably smart enough to ignore you completely.-Said Matthew.

-That seems unlikely. We are having a gathering at the Institute today,to celebrate the destruction of the Mandikhor.-James said.

Thomas shook his head.

-Bloody hell! You have to be kidding me!-Said Thomas.

-I understand you frustration,dearest cousin. I was also hoping i could spend the afternoon in the lab,until my father literally told me he would lock me in the lab for an entire month if i didn't show up at the Institute today.-Said Christopher.

-Apparently,Uncle Gabriel maybe worried that you are lacking social skills. Perhaps he wishes to introduce you to beautiful ladies?-Said Matthew,smiling.

-Haven't i met every beautiful lady in the Enclave by now?-Christopher asked.

-Cease the conversation! Do you not see that our Tom here is deeply scared of seeing the italian girl again?-Said James,laughing.

Thomas tried to laugh as well,that is what he should be doing. But he simply couldn't,he was way too embarassed.

He did not wanted to see Giovanna again.

"Later"

The Merry Thieves were finally at the Institute,which was indeed,full of people. Seemed like the celebration was being taken seriously.

Thomas was feeling uneasy,knowing that Giovanna could literally pop up out of nowhere to haunt him. He could have avoided all of that,if he had listened to reason.

It seemed pointless to think about that now. It was probably better if he focused on acting as normally as he could.

-Is everything okay,Tommy? You look rather pale.-Said a voice Thomas knew very well.

Gideon. His father. Thomas could not help but wonder how Gideon would react if he revealed his doings of the last night.

-I am fine. Just wasn't really in the mood for a party now.-Said Thomas,without looking to Gideon's eyes.

Gideon shrugged.

-Just try to have fun. Your friends seem to be enjoying themselves.-Said Gideon,pointing to the rest of the Merry Thieves.

Thomas approached them,and Matthew pulled him close.

-Have you seen our ragazza already? You must be quite scared,eh?-Asked Matthew,laughing.

-How does he get drunk this quickly?-Asked Thomas.

-It must be his hidden talents,though i'm not really sure how that helps him. Thomas,i already told you,stop worrying about the girl. Your parents will notice your uneasiness.-Said James.

-If it were that easy. Where is Christopher? I thought Uncle Gabriel forced him to come?-Said Thomas.

-Oh he is here! You can see him there,probably explaining about the antidote to my stupid brother and Grace Blackthorn.-Said Matthew.

Thomas looked at them,near the door. Christopher speaked quite quickly about everything. Charles was probably pretending to be interested,since he wanted to become Consul and had to listen to people and their blabbering. Grace was likely dying of boredom.

-She looks stunning in that ivory dress.-James said.

Matthew slapped James' hand.

-You are engaged,Mr.Herondale. Have that in mind before you go drool all over the floor Grace steps on.-Said Matthew.

James seemed to have cursed in a whisper,which wasn't surprising for Thomas. Only their little group of friends knew that James and Cordelia's marriage was a sham.

But Thomas wasn't feeling patient to deal with those things today. He just wished the party would be over quickly so that he could leave the Institute without the risk of seeing Giovanna again.

One could only hope,and that was exactly what Thomas was going to do.

"Hours Later"

-Are you looking for anyone in specific,Tom? Or have you forgotten how the Institute's ballroom looked like?-Anna asked,she sat beside him,looking stunning as always.

-I'm actually trying to avoid someone that may or may not show up.-Said Thomas.

-That seems to be very dull. This whole celebration is actually turning to be quite a bore. Good thing my parents won't mind if i leave to go to the Hell Ruelle today.-Said Anna,smiling.

-Is that so? It doesn't surprise me that you prefer that scandalous place over a simple ball.-Said Thomas.

-Oh i assure you,the Hell Ruelle is more than just scandalous. You should come with me sometime. You will have the time of your life.-Said Anna.

Thomas didn't quite knew if Anna was being serious or not. She probably found him way too dull to enjoy a place like the Hell Ruelle. But he wouldn't have to worry about seeing Giovanna again if he left the party.

Thomas didn't knew if Gideon or Sophie would mind,but he wasn't worried either. The Hell Ruelle did seem to be quite scandalous. But after what he did,why not give it a shot?

-Anna,before you leave,please try to find me. I want to go to the Hell Ruelle along with you.-Said Thomas.

Anna's eyes widened with surprise. It has been ages since Thomas last saw Anna surprised with anything.

-Are you absolutely sure? You do know that the Ruelle has a reputation,do you not?-Asked Anna.

Thomas nodded.

-I do,and that is why i wish to go with you.-He said.

Anna simply smiled.

-Follow me then!-She said.

"At the Hell Ruelle"

-This is the Ruelle,Thomas! Be sure of this,you will never find a place like the Ruelle!-Said Anna.

Thomas could barely analyze the place,it was just so full of people,and every single one of them were downworlders. The blue fire of the warlocks gave the place a unique atmosphere.

He recognized some of the famous downworlders,like Magnus Bane and his cat eyes,Malcolm Fade and Hypatia Vex,that was smiling and talking to Anna.

Thomas wasn't expecting Anna to keep him company,it was obvious that she was there to entertain herself more than anything. Perhaps he should just do the same.

Thomas went to the bar table,where a Ifrit with four arms and jade colored skin was serving drinks. His expression changed slightly to one of distaste. Probably because Thomas was a Shadowhunter.

-Nephilim. Do you wish to drink something?-He asked,his voice was so husky.

Thomas took a few seconds to answer. He felt so out of place there,he needed something to make him feel more...at home.

-I want something strong. I wish to get drunk as quickly as possible.-Thomas said.

Weirdly,the Ifrit smiled,his teeth were as yellow as his eyes.

-That can be taken care of.-He said.

The Ifrit filled a glass with champagne,and then threw some pink colored powder in it.

-Drink it,Nephilim,and you will not remember a single thing when you wake up tomorrow.-The Ifrit said.

Thomas only nodded,and drank all the champagne,until the glass was completely empty.

He immediately felt quite dizzy,as if everything around him was spinning.

He walked to where the downworlders were dancing. It was quite a different dance,their bodies where so close,that was something Thomas would never see in the balls of the Shadowhunters.

-Yes! Shadowhunters are so dull! We are a great bore!-Thomas said,he felt like he was screaming,but the sound of the music was probably louder than his voice.

He bumped into someone,and nearly fell to the ground. Whatever it was the Ifrit gave him,it was definitely working.

Thomas looked at the boy whose he had just bumped. It was definitely a warlock,his skin had a very bright blue tone,almost white. His hair was pale as the moon,his eyes were star-shapped,just like the ones of Hypatia Vex,and were as green as the forest.

The boy was really handsome,in that magic and supernatural way only warlocks could be. He smiled to Thomas.

-An angel in the Hell Ruelle? Are you not lost,angel boy?-He asked.

Thomas shook his head.

-I want to be here! I'm not as dull as everyone thinks! And i'm not just kind!-Thomas said.

He barely had control of his words,but something inside him felt like he would have a huge headache tomorrow.

-You surely are not dull! As a matter of fact,you seem to be the more interesting here!-He said.

Thomas got closer to him,almost without realizing. The warlock was quite handsome. And he did seemed interesting as well.

It was almost like Thomas felt an attraction to him. Which wasn't that surprising for Thomas. He knew at least that much about himself.

Though he did not know what to do know.

-You are interesting too! Do you have a name,mate!?-Thomas asked.

The warlock boy laughed.

-Would you remember it tomorrow if i tell you?-He asked,smiling.

-I cannot promise you that!-Thomas said.

And all of a sudden,his mouth was on Thomas',and they were kissing quite fiercely. His mouth tasted like a combination of wine and blue ruin.

It was a bittersweet sensation,almost addictive. Thomas felt like he could use some more of that.

His skin started to feel hot,as if the entire place began to burn. He unbuttoned his shirt,but the warlock boy stopped him.

-If you wish to go further,angel boy,them it will have to be in a more private place.-He said.

Thomas shrugged,almost taking his shirt off.

-I don't give a bloody hell!-Thomas shouted,the warlock laughed and grabbed him by his tie,taking him in to one of the inner chambers.

This one had a sapphire color,full of blue diamonds and other blue gems,like lapis lazuli,aquamarine and indicolite.

He threw Thomas on the bed,and began to take his clothes off. Thomas kicked off his shoes and took off his socks,his shirt was open.

He wasn't thinking straight,deep down he knew that. His mind was rather foggy. But what he was doing now,it didn't felt wrong.

The warlock was nearly nude,he crashed on Thomas as he layed on the bed. His light blue chest pressed against Thomas' skin,they were burning.

They kissed violently,Thomas' hands running down the back of the boy whose name he didn't even knew.

But it didn't matter,he wouldn't remember it anyways. Thomas removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor,he left the bed and managed to somehow lock the door.

And then he was back to the bed,and the night went on.

"The Next Day"

Thomas woke up in a place completely unknown too him. The only thing he realized at first was that it was all too blue.

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't wearing any clothes. But there were no bed sheets covering him this time.

"Again? Must be a record or something." He thought.

And the third,and most surprising,was the blue warlock,nude as well,beside on the bed,still asleep.

Thomas quickly got up,looking at everything around him. He didn't exactly remembered what he had been up to. He couldn't remember the boy's name,and his head was exploding.

His clothes were in very unusual places around the blue room,much to his dismay.

-Did this really happened? Have i really done this? Oh Raziel! If my father could see me right now.-Thomas said,he was pretty sure the sleeping warlock was unable to hear him.

Thomas smiled,and then started to laugh a little bit. He was feeling many things,but regret was not one of them.

Perhaps it was just silly to think about Alastair. Thomas did not need him for anything. Anna was right about the Hell Ruelle after all.

He didn't knew if he would ever return,but he did knew himself a lot better right now.

And he was happy with that.