#like he's just picking up a spoon. but so effortlessly and smoothly. and it's to drink from a bowl of human blood

[fascinationstreetmp3]

Jacob Anderson as Louis de Pointe du Lac INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE | 1.07

[unconventional-lawnchair]

In The Wake of Us {Chapter Two}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

WC: 4461

Masterlist

Summary: The reader, Draco, Luna, and Hermione attempt to steal ingredients for the memory draught potion. An interesting conversation with Snape only lends to infuriate you further.

<--Prev/Next-->

The start of the next day was drastically easier than before. The smell of toast and eggs wafted through the air of the Great Hall, mingling with the distant rustle of owls delivering the daily post. You sat at the Gryffindor table, hunched over with Hermione, Luna, and Draco, the four of you tucked into a cozy cluster as you picked at your plates, murmuring in low voices.

“Alright.” Hermione said softly, her quill scratching against a piece of parchment as she jotted down notes. “We’ll need powdered asphodel root, crushed florafolimor, and fresh belladonna for the base of the potion. Those are all in the potions storage cabinet.”

Draco thinned his lips, leaning back lazily as he speared a piece of toast with his fork. “Snape’s cabinet, you mean. You do realize he probably has it warded to high heaven after what happened with the Weasley twins?”

Hermione grimaced. “That’s why we’re making a plan, Malfoy. We can’t just waltz in there and expect it to be easy.”

“Relax, Granger,” Draco chuckled, waving his hands up in defense. “I’ll handle the wards. You just worry about grabbing the ingredients before we get caught.”

Luna, seated across from you, was idly twirling her spoon in a cup of tea. “I think the belladonna will be the trickiest,” she mused. “It’s very temperamental, you know. It likes to hide in the shadows.”

Hermione paused mid-scribble, giving Luna an incredulous look. “What are you talking about? It’s an ingredient, not a sentient plant.”

Luna smiled serenely. “Oh, it’s very sentient. You just have to approach it with kindness.”

Draco snorted, shaking his head. “Right. I’ll be sure to say ‘please’ while I’m nicking it.”

You couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, the sound drawing the attention of a few nearby students. Leaning closer to the table, you gestured to Hermione’s notes, “Okay, so Draco handles the wards, Hermione gets the ingredients, and Luna… charms the belladonna, I suppose. What’s my job?”

Draco raised a brow, his smirk turning sly. “Distraction, obviously. You’re the golden girl- no one’s going to suspect you.”

You groaned, resting your forehead on your hand. “Perfect. I’ll just bat my eyelashes at Snape and hope for the best.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted answers,” Hermione sighed, her tone softening as she nudged your arm. “This is our best shot. We can’t brew the memory draught without those ingredients.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright. After Potions, we’ll slip back in and get what we need. Quick and quiet.”

As the four of you continued hashing out the details, you didn’t notice Harry approaching until he was right beside the table.

“Morning,” Harry said lightly, his tone cheerful but tinged with curiosity as he glanced at the parchment spread across the table. “What are you lot whispering about?”

The group stiffened almost imperceptibly. Hermione quickly flipped the parchment over, pretending it was nothing more than notes for class. “Oh, just going over Potions for today,” she said smoothly, her voice light and casual. “You know Snape- he’ll tear us apart if we’re not prepared. And after the success from her last class,” Hermione gestured vaguely in your direction. “We are seeing what else she might know.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on the parchment for a moment longer before shifting to you. His smile softened as he sidled up beside you, effortlessly squeezing between you and the other students beside you. His shoulder brushed yours, and the warmth of his presence made your heart warm. You couldn't remember the last time you spent true time alone with Harry. “You alright? You seemed… off yesterday. Not like you to go total zombie on us.”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting with guilt. “I’m fine, Harry. Just tired. Our N.E.W.T.s are coming up, and I guess I’ve been pushing myself too hard.”

His brow furrowed, skepticism flickering across his face. “Are you sure? You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

Across the table, Draco shifted in his seat, his expression tightening with barely veiled irritation, like he was begging you to just be honest. Luna continued stirring her tea as if she hadn’t noticed the tension, while Hermione darted a nervous glance between you and Harry, clearly calculating the best way to diffuse the situation.

“I’m sure,” you reassured him quickly, your voice firmer than you intended. “It’s nothing, really.”

Harry’s concern didn’t waver. He glanced at the flipped parchment beside Hermione, then back to you. “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he whispered, his tone gentle but insistent. “If something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

You hesitated, the knot in your stomach tightening. Harry’s green eyes held yours prisoner as he insisted, his hands folding together. “It’s just… I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all,” you insisted again, this time placing your hand on his arm and giving him your best, albeit small, smile. “I promise I’ll talk to you if it’s something serious.”

Harry studied you for a moment, his gaze softening but not entirely free of doubt. “Alright,” he relented, though his voice held the weight of worry. “But you know I’m here, yeah? Always.”

Your smile wavered for a moment before you nodded. “I know, Harry. And I appreciate it.”

He leaned back slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he gave you one of his rare, genuine smiles. “Good. Because you’re rubbish at hiding things from me, you know.”

“I’m not that bad,” you countered, your voice tinged with forced levity, though the guilt gnawed at you.

“Oh, you are.” He teased, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Don’t think I don’t notice. Just because I’m busy doesn’t mean I don’t see things.” He exaggerated as he pulled down his lower eyelids, earning an amused laugh from you.

Draco cleared his throat pointedly, his silver eyes narrowing slightly as he interrupted. “Speaking of distractions, Potter, shouldn’t you be focusing on Quidditch practice? I hear the Gryffindor team could use all the help they can get.”

Harry turned to Draco with a mock glare, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “I���ll see you on the field then, Malfoy. Let’s hope you can keep up.”

Draco smirked lazily, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, I’ll do more than keep up. You might even learn something.”

Harry turned back to you, his smile softening again. His green eyes lingered on yours, and the playful banter faded from his tone. “Let me know if you want to talk,” he said softly. “I mean it.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. Lying to him felt heavier than ever.

As Harry straightened up, he cast one last glance at the group before heading off toward the end of the table. The moment he was out of earshot, Draco let out a low whistle.

“Well, that was subtle,” he drawled, his tone thick with sarcasm. “Practically bleeding concern, isn’t he?”

You glared at him, though there was no real malice in it. “Lay off, Draco. He’s just worried.”

“Worried or suspicious?” Draco quipped, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.

“Both,” Hermione muttered, her gaze still fixed on the parchment she’d been furiously scribbling on. “And he’s not wrong. You were acting strange yesterday. Now we’re acting strange today.”

Luna, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke, her voice as airy as ever. “He’s worried because he loves you. It’s a different kind of love than the one you’re searching for, but it’s real all the same.”

Her words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily breathless. Draco and Hermione both looked at her, their brows furrowing in unison.

“Luna,” Hermione began carefully. “What are you talking about?”

Luna didn’t answer, instead tilting her head and gazing at you with a quiet intensity. Her eyes seemed to see through you. It made your chest tighten, the weight of her words settling deep inside you. It made your throat dry.

“Can we focus, please?” you asked softly, your voice cracking slightly. “We don’t have much time to figure this out.”

Hermione nodded, her expression softening as she returned to the parchment. Draco watched you for a moment longer, his smirk fading into something quieter as he finally leaned forward.

“Fine. But you’d better be ready to pull off this little heist of yours, Golden Girl.” He quipped, his tone lighter than before. “I don’t fancy getting detention for your little mystery.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll try not to get us caught.”

“Good,” Draco smiled. “Because if Snape catches us, I’m blaming you.”

The four of you laughed quietly, the tension easing as you returned to your whispered planning. But as you went over the details, you couldn’t shake the lingering weight of Harry’s concern or the echo of Luna’s words in your mind.

None of you noticed how Harry glanced at you all from across the hall. Or how he lingered there, even as the rest of his teammates rose to leave for practice.

~~~

The hum of activity in the hallways served as a backdrop to your group as you made your way to Potions class. The weight of the plan hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You glanced at Hermione, who clutched her notes tightly, her brow furrowed in concentration. Draco walked slightly ahead, hands tucked into his robes, exuding a nonchalance that didn’t fool you in the slightest. Luna drifted alongside you, her steps light as if she were gliding, her gaze occasionally flicking to the shadows with that dreamy but knowing expression.

By the time you reached the dungeons, the chill of the stone walls seeped through your robes. The familiar scent of brewed ingredients hit you as you stepped inside the classroom, the low murmur of students settling into their seats filling the space. Snape was already at the front, his dark eyes sweeping over the class with his usual scowl.

You slipped into a seat next to Hermione, Draco directly behind you, and Luna to the side. Despite the anxieties, you couldn’t help but glance at where Luna sat. Harry's seat. Looking up at the door, you caught sight of Harry entering with Ron and Ginny. His eyes flickered over to you, his lips twitching slightly as he noted the change, but he said nothing, allowing Ginny to pull him toward seats at the far side of the room.

Snape began his lecture on advanced Draughts of Living Death, his voice low and commanding, but your mind was elsewhere. Every now and then, you risked a glance at the others. Hermione scribbled notes with obsessive precision, Draco twirled his quill with a smug, casual air, and Luna’s quill moved in lazy loops over her parchment, her eyes occasionally drifting toward the jars on Snape’s desk.

The class dragged on. Seconds felt like minutes as Snape’s sharp gaze swept the room, each pass landing momentarily on you. Though it was routine, every glance sent your heart skipping. You knew he had no reason to suspect anything- not yet- but it did little to calm your nerves.

Finally, the lesson ended. Snape assigned the class an essay on potion clarity, and as students began filing out, your group lingered, exchanging subtle glances.

“Now,” Hermione whispered as the last student exited.

Draco straightened, his smirk sharpening into a look of determination. “You sure about this, Granger?”

“Positive,” Hermione muttered, glancing toward the door to ensure it had fully shut behind Snape. “He usually checks his office during each class, but we can’t risk him coming back early.”

Luna moved toward the storage cabinet without a word, her movements so natural it almost looked like she belonged there. You followed, your heart pounding as Draco pulled out his wand and began muttering a series of counter-charms. The faint shimmer of wards dissipated with a soft hum, and Hermione smiled faintly, impressed despite herself.

“Impressive,” she murmured, stepping forward to open the cabinet. Inside, shelves upon shelves of neatly labeled jars gleamed in the dim light.

Hermione scanned the labels, muttering under her breath as she located the powdered asphodel and florafolimor. “Luna, the belladonna-”

“I’ve got it,” Luna said softly, her hand hovering over a small glass jar tucked in the shadows. She smiled at it, her fingers brushing the surface lightly before lifting it out with care.

“And you-”

“Distraction, yeah…” You muttered, biting your cheek.

You squared your shoulders and walked with feigned confidence toward Snape’s office. If there was one thing you could count on, it was his need to assert his superiority through sharp remarks. It would give Hermione, Draco, and Luna the time they needed- hopefully.

Reaching the door, you gave it a light knock. Snape’s gruff voice called out from inside.

“Enter.”

Pushing the door open, you found him seated at his desk, his quill scratching against parchment. He didn’t look up at first, his dark eyes fixed on the paper before him, though the weight of his attention was unmistakable.

“Miss {L/N}. To what do I owe the pleasure of your intrusion?” His voice was as dry as ever.

You hesitated for half a beat before forcing yourself to adopt your most polite tone. “Professor, I had a few questions about the Draught of Living Death. I didn’t want to leave class earlier without asking.”

Snape finally looked up, his expression unreadable but his gaze piercing. “How unlike you to seek clarification. I was under the impression you preferred to muddle through and hope for the best.”

You forced a sheepish smile. “I just want to make sure I understand the finer points of the brewing process. It seems… delicate.”

“Delicate,” Snape echoed, his voice heavy with skepticism. He set his quill down, folding his hands as he studied you. “Hardly the word I’d use. Continue.”

You launched into a carefully prepared line of questioning about ingredient preparation, doing your best to sound genuinely curious. “I was wondering.” You began hesitantly, “about the timing of adding asphodel root to the base. Does it need to steep for the full eight minutes, or would seven suffice to maintain the balance?”

Snape’s quill stilled mid-stroke. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the parchment, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Seven minutes,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate. “And what, pray tell, leads you to believe that deviating from the established procedure would yield acceptable results?”

You hesitated, feigning a sheepish laugh. “I didn’t mean to imply deviation, Professor. I just thought… perhaps the reaction might stabilize sooner if the ingredients are particularly fresh.”

Snape’s lips curled into a faint sneer, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “Fresh ingredients are no excuse for shortcuts, Miss {L/N}. The idea that potioneering can be improved by clever guesswork is-”

He stopped abruptly, his expression tightening as though catching himself. You saw a faint shift in his features, a shadow of something; regret, perhaps? Before his voice turned cold again. “...a notion better left to amateurs.”

You felt your palms grow clammy under his gaze, but you pressed on. “It wasn’t guesswork, Professor. I may have read about a similar adjustment in an old potions journal- something about reducing reaction time in draught bases.”

Snape’s brow arched, his dark eyes narrowing further. “A potions journal, you say. And this mysterious author, whose work you have so diligently failed to cite?”

“I… don’t recall the name.” You lied, trying to keep your voice even. “It was tucked away in the restricted section, and the notes were... incomplete.”

“The restricted section,” Snape repeated, his tone sharp and cutting. “Convenient. Tell me, Miss {L/N}, why would a student of your… abilities suddenly develop an interest in obscure texts on potioneering? It’s hardly the kind of endeavor that suits your usual inclinations. I suspected your first few months of your sixth year would be spent on something closer to practical magics.”

Jerk.

Your jaw tightened at his words, the weight of his insinuation pressing down on you. “I just wanted to understand more.” You spoke carefully. “Potions are precise, and I thought learning a little extra wouldn’t hurt.”

Snape leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he regarded you with a mix of scrutiny and something far deeper. “Precision,” he murmured, his tone softer but no less sharp. “A rare quality in most students, and yet you claim it as your newfound aspiration. Tell me, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

The question hung in the air like a blade. His voice carried an undertone you couldn’t place, a weight that seemed to stretch beyond the walls of this room. “I’m not trying to accomplish anything, Professor,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I just don’t want to make mistakes.”

Snape exhaled slowly, his expression darkening. For a moment, his gaze flickered to the cauldron on his desk, and you swore you saw the faintest trace of something in his eyes- an old, unspoken memory.

“‘Mistakes,’” He repeated softly, almost to himself. “It is a noble goal to avoid them. But tell me, Miss {L/N}, what do you know of the consequences of precision?”

You hesitated, unsure of where he was leading. “I know that even small errors can be disastrous.”

Snape’s lips twitched, a faint and bitter smile ghosting across his face. “True. But precision,” he continued, his voice quieter now, “can also trap you. It demands exactness, inflexibility. One wrong step, one second too late… and even the most careful efforts can lead to ruin.”

His words struck a chord in you, though you couldn’t quite understand why. He leaned forward, his sharp gaze softening for a fraction of a second. “Does it ever strike you as curious, Miss {L/N}, how much of a person can be revealed by their interest in a cauldron?”

You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Snape’s expression flickered again, and this time, his voice carried a weight of old grief. Like you could feel his tone deep within your own chest. “There was a student I knew once- an irritating perfectionist who thought he could master the world through potions. He believed precision could solve anything, that each ingredient had a purpose, and that purpose could always be controlled.” His eyes darkened further. “He learned, eventually, that some things cannot be bottled, no matter how carefully one tries.”

A chill ran through you as he continued, his gaze boring into yours like he was searching for something just beyond your reach. “And you,” he said softly, “have that same look about you. The same restlessness. The same hunger for answers.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. There was something in his voice, something raw and vulnerable, that caught you off guard. You almost felt sympathetic for your scheme now. “Who was he?”

Snape’s eyes flickered with a mix of anger and sadness, as though the memory pained him more than he would admit. “Someone you would do good to leave behind,” he said curtly, leaning back in his chair. “Now, if you’re finished with your charade of curiosity, I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

The dismissal was sharp, but there was a tremor in his voice that lingered. As you turned to go, he spoke again, his tone quieter. “Miss {L/N}. Do you-”

Before he could finish, a faint crash echoed from the classroom. Your blood ran cold as Snape’s expression darkened, his head snapping toward the sound.

“What was that?” He demanded, rising from his chair in a single, fluid motion.

You scrambled for an excuse, stepping forward as if to block his path. “Probably Peeves, Professor. He’s been causing trouble in the dungeons all week.”

Snape’s gaze bored into you, skepticism radiating from him. “Peeves does not tamper with my storage cabinets,” he said coldly, brushing past you with a swish of his robes.

The sight that greeted you in the classroom froze you in place. Hermione clutched a jar of florafolimor, her face pale. Draco stood by the open cabinet, wand raised defensively, and Luna held the jar of belladonna like it was a fragile treasure. And there before them, a scattered jar of moonstone dust coating the floors in their pearlescent hue.

“What,” Snape hissed, his voice venomous, “Do you think you are doing?”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Hermione stammered, “P-Professor Snape, we-”

“Spare me your excuses, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped, his gaze sweeping over the group before settling on you. “And you, Miss {L/N}, how very typical of you to involve yourself in foolishness.”

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for an answer. But before you could speak, Snape dismissed the others with a flick of his hand, eyeing the ingredients as if they had personally offended him.

“Go. Now.”

Hermione hesitated, but Draco nudged her toward the door. Luna lingered for a moment, giving you a small, reassuring smile before following the others out.

As the door clicked shut, Snape turned back to you, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze heavy.

“You’re a good kid, Miss {L/N},” He started at last, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. You'd never expect a compliment from Snape of all people. “Too good to be meddling with things you don’t understand.”

The words hit you, the unexpected gentleness catching you off guard. You opened your mouth, but he cut you off.

“Tell me. Are you familiar with the myth of Pleiades?” He asked suddenly, his tone almost casual. His dark eyes watched you intently, searching for something in your reaction.

You hesitated at the unexpected question, furrowing your brow as you searched your memory. “The Pleiades? The star cluster, right? Seven sisters… something about them being chased by a hunter? Orion?”

Snape’s lips twitched, a shadow of what might have been a smirk. “Adequate, though simplified. The Pleiades were the daughters of Atlas, their fates bound by their father’s eternal burden. Each of them immortalized as stars, forever out of reach, yet always visible.” He stepped closer, his tone taking on a peculiar weight, as though the words themselves were more than just a myth. “Does that story resonate with you at all?”

You blinked, feeling a strange pang of familiarity at his words, though you couldn’t quite place why. “Not really,” you admitted softly. “Why?”

Snape studied you carefully, his dark gaze unwavering, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed almost... uncertain. “No reason,” he said, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him. He turned away, pacing toward the cabinet with deliberate slowness. “I find it curious,” he continued, his tone back to its usual cutting sharpness, “that one might be drawn to something so distant. Something they can never touch.”

Your chest tightened at his words, though you couldn’t explain why. “Are we still talking about the stars?” you asked hesitantly.

Snape stopped in his tracks, his back to you, his hands clasped behind him. “Perhaps.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you thought you caught the faintest hint of melancholy in it. “Or perhaps we’re talking about memories. About the weight of knowing something once and losing it.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach tightening. “You… you know, don’t you?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “About me. About what’s missing.”

Snape turned to face you, his expression carefully controlled, but his eyes held a depth you’d never seen before. “What I know, Miss {L/N}, is irrelevant. What matters is that you understand the dangers of meddling with forces beyond your grasp.”

“That’s not an answer,” You countered, your voice trembling. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Snape’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. “You are not entitled to answers,” he said firmly. “Not yet. But I will say this: there are reasons some memories remain buried. Reasons beyond your comprehension.”

The words stung, but they only fueled your determination. “Then why bring up the Pleiades? Why ask me if it resonates if you didn’t want me to think about it?”

For a moment, Snape looked as though he might argue, but then his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Because,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle, “sometimes the stars remind us of what we’ve lost. And sometimes, if we look closely enough, they remind us of what we still have.”

The cryptic answer left you reeling, your mind racing with half-formed questions and fragmented memories. But before you could press him further, Snape straightened, his usual cold mask snapping back into place.

“That will be all, Miss {L/N}. Leave. And if you value the fleeting trust I’ve shown, stay out of my cabinet.”

“That's not fair, Professor.” You snapped, tears gathering in your eyes. Frustration seeping through every part of your being. “I deserve to-”

“I have been nothing if not fair tonight, Vix!”

You both stared at each other in shock, just blinking at each other as your breath quickened.

“Who-”

“I could have you expelled. Attempting to steal from me, especially such expensive ingredients? I am sending you back to your dorms. Asking you, now, to leave it to lay.”

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of vulnerability, but he had already turned away, his attention fixed on his desk. With a heavy heart, you nodded and made your way to the door.

Just as your hand touched the handle, Snape’s voice stopped you. “Miss {L/N}.”

You turned back, finding him watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. Almost sorry for raising his voice. “Sometimes,” he said quietly, “Choices you don't remember making.. they have the best possible outcome.”

His words followed you as you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the conversation pressing down on your chest like a stone. You didn’t know what he was hiding, but you were certain of one thing: whatever it was, it was tied to the stars, to the past, and to something he wasn’t ready to share.

And somehow, deep down, you knew the Pleiades were more than just a story. They were a clue.

You did your best not to be overwhelmed. But there was an anger- bubbling in your chest as you made it back to the Gryffindor commons. Not caring to go to your next classes, not now. Even if Professor Remus was your favorite lesson of the day, you needed air. You needed a breath.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine @edb954 @juniorlore @milunalupin @ailoda @ellipsisspelled @nessielovesfood @yannew

[alewritesfics]

Shadows of us

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: unedited, mention of sex, idk what else

Masterlist

The first time you met Anthony Bridgerton was at a charity gala. The event was suffocating—an extravagant show of wealth and power where you felt like you didn’t belong. You’d only gone because your best friend insisted, claiming it would be a good place to make connections. You hadn’t expected that connection to be Anthony.

He found you lingering by the bar, drinking a glass of champagne and trying to avoid eye contact with the socialites surrounding you, when he approached.

“You don’t seem like you want to be here,” he said smoothly, his deep voice somehow managing to drown out the chatter around you.

You raised an eyebrow, offering a small smile. “Was it that obvious?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “To someone who feels the same way? Yes.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Anthony was charming in a way that didn’t feel forced. He was intelligent, funny, and far too handsome for his own good, as well as witty, and surprisingly down-to-earth for someone with his reputation. God, you already sound like a lovesick woman. By the end of the night, he asked for your number, and you, despite your better judgment and the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind, telling you that it was too good to be true and he would only end up breaking your heart, you gave it to him.

You knew who he was, a powerful CEO from a family of wealth and influence that dated back to the 1900s, old money. Was there even a person on earth who didn’t know who Anthony Bridgerton was?

One of the youngest CEO’s to exist at only 29 years old, as well as the youngest person ever to inherit his family’s company when his father died when he was 18. He was also considered one of the most eligible bachelors, considering he was as handsome as he was rich, meaning, a lot.

And you’d be stupid to turn him down.

The first few months with Anthony were intoxicating. He was attentive, passionate, and impossibly romantic. He whisked you away to exclusive restaurants, sent you flowers for no reason, and made you feel like the only woman in the world.

(And the sex was amazing but nobody needed to know that.)

But there were also rules.

Anthony never took you to public places where you might be photographed. He avoided introducing you to his family. Seriously! You both even came across his mother and brother, Colin, on a trip to Paris, and acted like you were his new secretary and you just brushed it off, thinking he wanted the relationship to be private, not wanting his family to smother him with questions.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the elegant Parisian restaurant, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. You and Anthony sat at a secluded table by the window, the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the distance. The city of love had never felt more fitting. 

Anthony reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve always wanted to bring you here,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection. “Paris suits you.” 

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. “How so?” 

“Because it’s beautiful, enchanting, and impossible to forget,” he replied smoothly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.  “Just like you” he grinned

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “That’s a line if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Moments like this made everything feel worth it—the stolen kisses, the late-night rendezvous, the quiet moments where it was just the two of you. In Paris, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness. 

The waiter arrived with your desserts, a delicate crème brûlée for you and a rich chocolate mousse for Anthony. You picked up your spoon, ready to dive in, when Anthony suddenly stiffened in his seat. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, noticing the change in his demeanor. 

His eyes darted to the entrance of the restaurant, his grip tightening on the tablecloth. “It’s… my mother and Colin.” 

You froze, your spoon hovering over your dessert. “What?” 

“They just walked in,” he said, his voice low and tense. He leaned forward, his expression urgent. “Y/n, they can’t know about us.” 

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Anthony—” 

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice almost pleading. “Not here. Not now. Just… follow my lead, okay?”  you nodded, thinking that he just still wanted to keep the relationship private.

Before you could respond, Anthony stood abruptly, pulling his chair closer to yours so you were sitting side by side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leaning in as if he were pointing out something outside the window. 

You stiffened under his arm, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. But as much as you hated it, you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as if nothing was amiss. 

“Anthony!” Violet’s warm voice cut through the restaurant, and you turned to see her approaching with Colin in tow. She was radiant as always, her eyes lighting up when she spotted her eldest son. 

“Mother,” Anthony greeted her with a smile, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you and Colin would be stopping by Paris on your tour."

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she said, giving him a quick hug before turning her attention to you. “And who is this lovely young woman?” 

“This is Y/n,” Anthony said smoothly, his hand slipping from your shoulders to rest on the back of your chair. “A… friend of mine. We met through mutual acquaintances.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Violet said warmly, extending her hand. 

“The pleasure is mine,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a polite smile. You’ve always dreamed of meeting your mother in law, dreaming of how sweet she would be. But now that you are, you just feel horrible.

Colin stepped forward, his boyish grin making you feel slightly at ease. “Anthony’s friends are usually dull business types, but you seem much more interesting.” 

“Colin,” Anthony warned, shooting his brother a sharp look. 

“What?” Colin said innocently, shrugging. “I’m just making an observation.” 

 Violet chuckled, patting Colin’s arm. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s always been incorrigible.” She turned back to you with a curious smile. “So, Y/n, what brings you to Paris?” 

You hesitated, glancing at Anthony for guidance. 

“She’s here for work,” Anthony answered quickly, cutting in before you could speak. “We happened to cross paths and decided to catch up.” 

Your stomach sank at his words. Catch up? You weren’t just someone he was catching up with—you were supposed to be someone he loved. 

Violet nodded, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. “Well, it’s lovely to see Anthony with someone so charming. I do hope you’re enjoying Paris.” 

“I am,” you said, your smile feeling more forced by the second. 

After a few more pleasantries, Violet and Colin excused themselves, leaving you and Anthony alone once more. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Anthony exhaled a shaky breath, leaning back in his chair. “That was close.” 

You stared at him, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and hurt. “Close? Is that all you have to say?” 

He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice low and trembling with emotion. “I just had to pretend to be a random acquaintance in front of your mother and brother, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” 

“Y/n, you know the situation,” he said, his tone defensive. “I can’t just tell them—” 

“Why not?” you interrupted, your voice rising slightly. “Why can’t you tell them? Why can’t you tell anyone? You said you wanted to keep it private but this is just excessive! Just tell me why.” 

“ It’s complicated,” he said, his tone firm. “You knew that when we started this.” 

You looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to form. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Like I’m some dirty little secret you’re ashamed of.” 

“Y/n, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening. “You know I care about you.”

“Do you?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just a convenient distraction. Someone you're with just as a passing time.” 

Anthony reached for your hand, but you pulled it back, shaking your head. The atmosphere had shifted, the warmth of the evening replaced by an icy tension that left you questioning everything. 

The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, but for the first time, it felt hollow—like a promise unfulfilled.

You later forgot that encounter, opting to ignore the signs, convincing yourself that he was just a very, very private man. But eventually, the truth came out.

It happened during a heated argument after you’d pressed him on why he was so secretive. Again.

“You want to know why?” he snapped, pacing the length of your small living room. His frustration was palpable, and it became harder and harder to hide the truth.

“Yes, Anthony! I deserve to know why you’re hiding me like some dirty little secret!” You exclaimed

He stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair before turning to face you. “Because I’m engaged.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stared at him, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “You’re… engaged?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart beating faster.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s an arrangement—an expectation from our families. It’s not about love.”

You took a step back, shaking your head. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Y/n, you’re the only thing in my life that feels real.”

He approached you “I don’t love her, baby” he grabbed your hands, looking you in the eyes, desperate. “please, believe me”

You swallowed, before you nodded. He sighed in relief, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face on your hair, breathing in deeply.

Despite your better judgment, you stayed. You told yourself it was temporary, that he’d leave her for you eventually. But as days turned into weeks and then turned into months, the reality of your situation became harder to ignore.

The heavy silence In Anthony’s bedroom pressed against your chest, suffocating in its intensity. You stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling estate before you. Anthony’s ancestral home was beautiful—timeless in its elegance, the kind of place you could see yourself calling home one day. But that dream, like so many others, was slipping further and further out of reach.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding as the words you’d been rehearsing all day threatened to spill out. Anthony was seated on the edge of the bed, his sleeves rolled up, his tie undone, exuding a kind of effortless charm that had once made you feel special. Now, it only hurt.

“How much longer will this go on for?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm.

Anthony looked up at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You gestured toward the bedside table, where a photo of Kate Sharma sat in a delicate silver frame. It was a picture of her smiling, radiant and confident. The kind of woman who belonged in this world. The kind of woman Anthony was expected to marry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and met his gaze. “End it with her.”

His eyes softened with something you could only describe as regret, but he didn’t move. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Y/n… you know I can’t do that. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “What’s so complicated about choosing the person you love? Or do you not love me?”

“You know I love you,” he said, standing up, his tone laced with frustration. “This isn’t about love. It’s about family, business—things that are bigger than you and me.”

“Bigger than us?” you echoed, taking a step closer to him. “Nothing should be bigger than us, Anthony. Not if you love me the way you say you do.”

He exhaled sharply, turning away from you. “It’s not that simple, Y/n.”

“It is that simple!” you snapped, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “You’re choosing her, Anthony. Every single day that you stay with her, you’re choosing her over me.”

He turned back to you, his expression pained. “I’m not choosing her. I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone.”

“What about what’s right for me?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “What about what’s right for you? Or are we just collateral damage in your quest to keep the company above everything else?” He didn’t respond, and the silence was deafening.

You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped at your cheeks. “If you won’t leave her… then let me go.”

“No,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. His voice was firm, almost panicked. “You’re not leaving me, Y/n. I can’t lose you.”

“You already have,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your words.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, reaching for your hands. “Don’t do this.”

You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “I won’t be your mistress, Anthony. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s killing me inside.”

“You know how the situation is, you’ve known since we started whatever we’re doing” Anthony stated, his eyes flickering between yours desperately, looking for a sign that you’re lying, that you don’t want to leave him “Ever since we I told you the truth, I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to find every reason possible to leave me…..Are you tired of me now? You don’t love me anymore?”

You shook your head as you sniffled “I love you Anthony. I am completely in love with you but I can’t keep on hurting myself anymore” you pulled your hands out of his, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, your tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t do this anymore, Anthony. I love you. But I can’t, and I won’t, keep on waiting for you to love me back.”

“You want to know why I’m leaving?” you asked, your voice trembling. “It’s not because I don’t love you. God, Anthony, I love you so much it hurts. But I can’t keep breaking my own heart waiting for you to love me back the way I need you to -”

“I do!” Anthony cut you off “I do love you, I do need you. I need you more than anything”

“Then why won’t you leave her?” you cried. “Why didn’t you introduce me to your family when we ran into them in Paris? Why do you keep hiding me?” Anthony didn’t answer but his silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

“It’s over, Anthony” you sniffled as you wiped your eyes “ I can’t bear to stand in the sidelines and watch as you form a family with her, as you love her-“

Anthony’s head snapped up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Y/n—”

You shook your head, stepping back from him. “It’s over, Anthony. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

His hand shot out to grab yours, holding on tightly as if he could stop you from leaving. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll fix it. I’ll figure something out.”

“You had three years to figure it out,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “And you didn’t.”

Anthony stayed silent

After a few moments of agonizing silence, you pursued your lips before sighing. Without waiting for a response, you pressed a trembling kiss to his cheek and walked out of the room.

 

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of your life. Anthony called you incessantly, leaving voicemails that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. He even showed up at your apartment once, but you refused to let him in.

You tried to move on, throwing yourself into work and spending time with friends. But nothing could fill the void he’d left behind.

For Anthony, life was equally unbearable. The engagement with Kate continued, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—your laugh, your smile, the way you’d looked at him with tears in your eyes that night.

It was a rainy afternoon when you saw him again. You were tucked into the corner of your favorite café, a steaming cup of tea in front of you and a book open in your lap. The sound of the door chime barely registered until someone approached your table. 

“Y/n.” 

Your head snapped up, and there he was. Anthony. Soaked from the rain, his suit clinging to his broad frame, his hair disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. He looked… desperate. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended, you sat up, closing your book and crossing your arms, as if to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak you know he will bring again

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice rough. He sank into the chair across from you before you could tell him to leave. 

You stiffened, your hands gripping the edge of your book. “Anthony, You shouldn’t be here.”  You looked away, knowing that if you looked at him any longer, you would cave in.

“I ended it,” he blurted out, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours. 

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “What?” 

“I ended the engagement,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “It’s over. Kate and I are done.” 

You blinked, your mind struggling to process his words. “Why?” 

“Because I couldn’t marry her,” he said, his tone filled with conviction. “Not when my heart belongs to you.” 

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Y/n, I’m serious,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve thought of nothing else since you left. I can’t—I won’t lose you again.” 

“You already lost me, Anthony,” you shot back, your voice colder than you felt. “You made your choice when you stayed with her for three years. You don’t get to come here now and think a few words will fix this.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’ll beg if I have to.” 

You scoffed, looking away. “Begging won’t change what happened. Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you know how many nights I stayed up wondering why I wasn’t enough for you? Why you always hid me from the world?” 

“You were always enough,” he said, his voice soft and raw. “You were more than enough, Y/n. I was the one who wasn’t enough. I was a coward.” 

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let the tears threatening to form fall. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, expecting me to forgive you just because you decided to grow a conscience.” 

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t let you think for one second that I didn’t love you. That I don’t love you.” You froze, his words cutting through your defenses like a knife. 

“I love you, Y/n,” he continued. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, I’ve loved you ever since I saw you in that beautiful navy blue dress at the gala. I’ve loved you ever since you told me your name. I’ve loved you ever since I first kissed you underneath the moon on that rainy night, and I will spend every day proving it to you if you’ll let me. Please, just give me a chance to make this right.” 

You looked away, your heart hammering in your chest. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself hope, but the memory of the pain he caused was too fresh. 

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did it take losing me for you to finally do the right thing?” 

“Because I was an idiot,” he admitted, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he were holding on for dear life. “I thought I could have both— I don’t mean that I’ve ever loved Kate, I just– I thought I could keep you without giving up everything else. Have you and evolve my company. But when you walked out that door, I realized nothing else mattered. Not the company, not my family’s expectations, nothing. None of it means anything without you.” 

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “Words aren’t enough, Anthony. You hurt me.” 

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I will never forgive myself for that. But I can’t let you go without trying. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. Anything.” 

You stared at him, your walls cracking under the weight of his sincerity. For the first time, you saw the man beneath the polished exterior—the man who was terrified of losing you, who was willing to fight for you. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. 

“Then let me show you,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Please, Y/n. Let me prove to you that I’m worth the risk.” 

You hesitated, your heart and mind warring with each other. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “This is your last chance, Anthony. If you hurt me again, I’m gone for good.” 

Relief washed over his face, and he reached across the table to take your hand. “I won’t hurt you again. I swear it.” 

You let him hold your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. Deep down, you wanted to believe him. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. 

 

[ama-kuu]

Abandoned and Rehomed Ch 2

Warnings: Panic attacks, Depression

Hawks brings you home after picking you up as an abandoned stray

Feline quirk reader

Sorry this is gonna be another sad one. I promise that it's gonna get better as the story progresses. 😅

Link for Chapter 1:

Hawks landed gently on his balcony, tenderly gazing down at your sleeping form. He lightly adjusts you in his arms, as few feathers detach to unlock the keypad and maneuver the sliding doors open. Now under the awning, he shakes out his wings, bristling each feather to expel the water droplets. Glancing back, the rain still falling heavily, he moves swiftly into his penthouse.

……………………

You groaned as your ears flicked at the sounds of a nearby shower starting. Ugh. Your head was pounding. You sat up from the very plush mattress underneath you, rubbing circles at your temples, you slid off the bed. You rocked slightly unbalanced when you straightened up. You peered around the room, your gaze catching at the large wet spot on the bed from your rain soaked clothes, you lowered your ears.

Guilt dug at your gut, your head quickly turned to bathroom the door, it was cracked but you didn't see any movement. You moved your attention back to the bed. In your mind, you were indebted to Hawks for graciously picking you off the streets only to inconvenience him.

You tried to work quickly to remove the sheets and bedding before Hawks returned. Once you had all the bedding gathered in your arms you searched around for the hamper. You were so absorbed in your task you didn’t even notice Hawks leaning against the bathroom door frame snickering at you.

He stealthily moved behind you. You were so focused that you didn't even notice him until his hands gripped your hips pulling you flush against his own. You yelped involuntarily followed by blushing hard.

He shook with laughter as you clutched the bedding close to you. “What are you doing Kitten?” His head cocked to the side trapping you with his intimidating golden gaze.

You faltered under his attention, “Oh..Um..” You looked down at the bedding in your arms, your ears drooping forward as you contemplated your response.

“I wanted to clean up after myself before you came back.” You kept your head down, unwilling to hold his gaze. Did you mess up? Was he upset with you for touching his things? Wha-

He clicked his tongue, breaking you out of your downward spiral. Feathers swarmed the bedding, pulling them from your hold and floated off out of the room. Hawks spun you in front of him, now facing him. He held your chin up to maintain eye contact.

“Kitten…” He leaned in closer, “I didn’t bring you home to be a maid…So let me pamper my new pet properly.”

Your mind was spinning leaving you speechless as you gaped at him. Your mouth hung open stunned for only a brief moment before you sighed in relief, leaning up on your tip toes and purred loudly against his neck. Thank goodness he wasn’t mad. He pet your head gently before gathering you up, his arms scooping you up under your thighs. His hands brushed over your tail causing you to shutter against him. In the short time you were with him it seemed like you spent most of it in his arms rather than touching the ground, it was amusingly pleasant. You melted against him.

You couldn’t help but notice his own wings flutter gently at your reactions. You leaned over him as he carried you towards the bathroom, your fingers gingerly batting at the feathers at the peak of his wings. He deeply inhaled and dipped through the bathroom doorway, careful to make sure you didn't hit your head on the door frame.

He set you down on the marble vanity. The steam from the shower caused a thick fog to coat the room. You took in the room, not only the counter was marble but the floors and the walls as well. It was honestly intimidating to take in. Beside you sat a neatly folded pile of his clothes. Your attention was quickly redirected by a brief flap of his crimson appendages, as he leaned into the shower to check the water temperature. You sat there in a trance as your senses zoned in on his wings. You fought your quirk’s instincts to run your claws through the feathers pulling and tugging at the quills.

Hawks felt the intense stare on his back. Peeking his head subtlety over his shoulder, his pupils narrowed at the sight. You sat there, eyes fully dilated with your claws flexing in between your spread thighs. He slowly expanded his wingspan, eager to watch your expressions. You reacted immediately, claws elongating and digging into the stone counter. Fuck. Watching you restrain your impulses to jump him was HOT.

He shook his head, he was in control. At least that’s what he told himself as he raked his gaze over you. Still in your soaked outfit, he knew he needed to make sure you were taken care of first, before his own needs. He slowly exhaled, regaining that control, he stepped closer to you.

“Kitten. You are going to shower then change into these.” He motioned to the clothing beside you.

Your pupils readjusted back to normal as you listened to his commands.

“Got it kitten?” His eyes flashed with dominance challenging you……

“Yes.” His eyebrows raised surprised to hear you for the first time since you woke up. You smiled gently at him, your heart warm at his efforts to pamper you.

His hands braced your shoulders, “Kitten if you need me, I’ll be right outside the door.”

You nodded as you slid down from the counter. When your feet were planted on the floor he gave your forehead a light kiss before retreating out of the room.

With Hawks no longer around to distract you, the headache you woke up with became more apparent. Your head throbbed as you slowly peeled the heavy clothes from your body. They fell to the floor with a thud as you stumbled to the shower. The steam was now thick and difficult to see through, as you entered the luxury glass shower. You stood under the water stream with your ears tucked down to prevent water from getting too far down into your ear canals.

Your hands grazed up your body as the shower heated you back up. Heat. You froze when your fingers made contact with your collar. Your stomach dropped. Hands become numb as they clenched onto the collar. Even though you were the one left behind, you could not help but feel… guilty… Dabi….Tears flooded your eyes as your legs buckled under you. You couldn’t stop what came next. You began to hyperventilate, you choked on the shower steam as you tried to get air into your lungs. You needed to collar OFF, NOW. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle as you fought back sobs.

“HAWKS!” You screamed for him, fighting to get the words past the tightness forming in your throat. It was getting harder for you to breathe, it felt as if the collar itself was strangling you with your own feelings.

He was on you in seconds. Red blurs flew around you as the shower was shut off, plush towels wrapped cocooned around you and mainly the collar choker removed from your neck. You got one last glimpse of it before it was flown out of the room. Taking deep breaths, you cling to his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Everything’s okay kitten, you are safe with me.” His hand cradled your head against him. He didn't dare move you, not until you calmed down. “I’m going to be right here. You can get through this, just keep breathing with me.”

You focused on him and made a conscious effort to sync up with him. In and out. He continued to rub gentle circles on the back of your head with his thumb, as your respirations became slower.

You nodded against his chest, “I’m okay.” Your heart was still pounding in your chest, but you felt better.

You lifted your head and wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, “ I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” You smiled to ease your embarrassment.

“No. No apologizing, If you ever need something, you call me. Period.” He squeezed you against him. “Am I alright to pick you up now?”

“Yea, can we go back to bed.” You tugged lightly at his shirt in your hold.

“Anything for you”, he scooped you up effortlessly and carried you back to the bedroom.

You looked at the freshly made bed as he passed it and set you down on the bench at the foot of the bed. It puzzled you as you turned up to look at him.

He leaned down to you, “I'm gonna dry your hair before we go to bed, hang out here for a second.”

You sat there in silence. What time was it anyway? Glancing around you noted the large thick curtains that covered what you assumed to be a large wall of windows. Knowing Hawks, you bet he lived somewhere high up. You internally kicked yourself for not being able to stay awake during the trip here, to get a general idea of where you were.

Hawks returned shortly with a small hair dryer and wet brush in hand. He kneeled behind you carefully brushing through your hair. You pulled your knees to your chest so you could rest your head against them.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He paused to wait for your response.

“No, it’s nice.” He continued to comb through your hair until the brush passed smoothly. Then began section by section blow drying.

You soaked in the warmth as you purred in content. Your chest vibrating from the sounds, you would honestly be surprised if Hawks couldn’t hear it.

You dozed off as he tended to you. Once he finished, used his feathers to return the tools into the bathroom. He pulled you up onto the bed throwing the covers over you and positioned you as the little spoon against him.

His wing covered you, as you held his arms around you. It felt nice to be wanted again. His arms pulled you tighter against him, it was very noticeable now that he was shirtless. Your face flushed at the realization that you never put any clothes on, after your episode you completely forgot.

“What’s the matter?” he blew seductively into your ear. “Your heart rate seems to be increasing rapidly.” He chuckled as he teased you.

Fidgeting with the blankets, you pulled them tighter to your chest. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment, you turned to face him and pouted.

Hawks spun you in his arms, so that you were now fully facing him. “Kitten relax, tonight I’m just gonna cuddle you.” He moved his arm to prop his head up on the pillow. “Besides I wanna make sure you are a little more settled before I scare you away” He winked suggestively at you.

You giggled into his bare chest, “I’d like to see to try”. You scraped your teeth against his skin, giving a brief nip before curling into him and drifting off to sleep.

Taglist:

@sunaswife @viol3tcr3am

This isn’t the end. I promise there will be more chapters to come. I have a lot of ideas and directions for this story to go. I hope that everyone is enjoying it. This is my first series, so I’m doing my best. Thanks for bearing with me. 😸

[serotorin]

you don’t know my name

kuroo tetsurou x reader

1767; language, secondhand embarrassment

everyone has a breaking point.

and ever since kuroo started working for this banking company he feels like he reaches his at least three times a day. maybe that's why he finds himself walking over to the yogurt shop a couple of blocks away every lunch break. he figures a small treat would be a nice pick-me-up in the middle of the day.

"thanks for coming, enjoy your dessert!"

well, frozen yogurt isn't the only treat that makes his day a little bit better.

kuroo's met with the sound of your voice the moment he steps into the shop, and a sense of ease washes over him. somehow this little yogurt spot became his mid-day safe haven and you've unknowingly become part of his routine.

maybe it's because you're always there when he comes in. or maybe it's because you always look so cheerful, your smile radiating with warmth, a lively aura surrounding you. or maybe it's just because he thinks you're cute.

he doesn't know why or when it happened, but you caught his eye.

and not to be creepy, but kuroo likes watching you work. something about the way you move so effortlessly behind the counter reminds him of what it was like to be on a team. how everything flows smoothly when everyone connects. there's always a bit of time before his order is ready, and he uses it to observe the workflow in front of him. he hopes you don't notice him. really, he'd hate for you to think he’s some kind of weirdo.

but this is usually when he catches the small moments that show off your teamwork. it's just you and your co-worker—she's helping customers at the register while you're behind her preparing the orders. it’s the two of you against a sea of people, but somehow a hint of your smile still remains, your movements so fluid that you’re not even breaking a sweat.

the sound of the fridge door opening catches your attention, and his as well. kuroo’s gaze shifts to see your co-worker take something out and place it on the counter next to her before going back to help the next patron.

he watches as you finish up the smoothie mixture you’re working on, placing it in the blender and the sounds of whirling blades fill the air, echoing throughout the store and muffling the gentle hum of the customers’ chatter. you quickly wipe your hands on the apron before jogging over and picking up the package.

his eyes follow your figure as you make your way over to the toppings bar. you rip open the bag to refill the mochi, but a couple of pieces fall out of the container and you not so discreetly pop them into your mouth.

cute, he thinks.

maybe it’s because he’s dealing with numbers and data all day, but kuroo misses being around people. he’s surrounded by stuck-up businessmen and dissatisfied clients, but everything’s always about budgets or spreadsheets or stocks. seeing how you connect with other people and actually enjoy your work makes him miss nekoma’s team camaraderie, even if he did bicker with yaku over every little thing.

maybe finance isn’t for him.

“number 281!” you call out over the crowd, breaking his train of thought.

“thanks for coming, enjoy your dessert!” you chirp as you hand him his order, red spoon, and a couple of napkins in tow. his fingers brush against yours, and thoughts of how your hand would feel in his flood his mind. kuroo quickly shakes the images out of his head, but when he sees you beaming up at him so genuinely, creases at the edges of your sincere eyes, he can’t help but daydream a little.

+

kuroo’s had a bad day.

actually, it’s been a bad week. between the long hours he’s been putting in at work and the pressure he’s been getting from the higher-ups, he's fucking exhausted.

there’s nothing he wants more in the world right now than to sleep. or move to hawaii for an early retirement. both would be great.

but then his stomach growls, and he remembers he missed lunch today. he’ll get a sandwich or something for dinner on the way home, but for the preservation of his sanity, he decides he needs froyo now.

no, he deserves it.

there’s a handful of people in the store when he walks in—a mom with her two kids, a man working on his laptop, a group of high schoolers sharing one yogurt. it’s much quieter than the afternoon lunch rush. then again, it is late.

his body feels like it's on autopilot. is he even moving? he can't even tell, mind clouded only with thoughts of getting home and passing out on his bed. he doesn't even realize he's already in front of the register until his feet hit the counter.

"hi, what can i get for you today?"

on instinct, he looks up at the menu above, reading the long list of flavors available. he doesn't know why he does this. he almost always orders the same thing every time he comes in.

"i'll just have my usual," he huffs, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

"um, your... usual?"

kuroo glances over to see that it's you behind the register today, confusion written all over your face, and he wants to combust on the spot.

shit, shit, shit.

my usual? what the fuck? it's his first time actually speaking to you and he asks for his usual? does anyone even say that in real life?

"sorry," he says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, a habit he's picked up when he's nervous. "i guess it's usually someone else that takes my order." it’s warm all of a sudden and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. kuroo hooks his fingers into the knot of his tie, pulling it away from his neck to loosen it up.

you give him an apologetic smile, eyes sympathetic but practically begging him to move past this moment of awkwardness. "uh, i'll take a medium coconut yogurt," he says in an attempt to put you out of your misery.

you breathe out a quiet sigh of relief as you grab a medium cup and start punching in his order.

"any toppings with that?"

"yeah, mango, mochi, and captain crunch."

“oh, i was wondering where you were today," you blurt out and kuroo looks at you, raising an eyebrow at your comment. you’re still typing in his order, remaining blissfully unaware of what you’ve just said before suddenly tensing up, fingers freezing just above the pos system.

well, that moment of relief was short-lived.

"oh my god, did i say that out loud?" you mutter, eyes almost as wide as the yogurt cup.

his lips start to curve into a tiny smirk. now it's your turn to be embarrassed.

you push yourself off the counter and quickly turn towards the yogurt dispenser, avoiding his gaze. he's not letting you get away that easily.

"so you do know what my usual is?"

okay, now he's just picking on you. but he can't help it. you look so nervous and he thinks you're cute even when you're flustered. he's used to seeing you so composed, not that he'd tell you that, but he just wants to savor this moment a little longer.

"i'm not usually at the register, so i can’t always match orders with faces," you admit, pulling the lever down, yogurt flowing into the cup. "but i recognize yours. you're the only one who gets captain crunch."

it takes him a moment to compute what you just said. his brain might've even short-circuited. "what?" kuroo asks, a little louder than he intended. he’s just… shocked, maybe even a little offended. he can't be the only one who has taste.

"but that's the best topping," he exclaims.

excitement lights up your face as you turn back to him. "right? it's my favorite! but everyone goes for the healthy stuff like fruit… or granola,” you explain, your face scrunching up in disgust.

he lets out a low chuckle, feeling the stress of the day begin to slowly leave his body. “they’re missing out. but hey, more for us.”

your lips curve into a small smile as you head over to the toppings bar. “don’t tell my boss,” you glance back, making sure your manager isn't around, “but i always give you a little extra, just so it looks like customers are getting it.”

“ah, so you’re the reason for these few extra pounds lately,” he teases, giving his stomach a few light taps.

the back of your hand covers your mouth as you let out a soft giggle, and kuroo suddenly wonders what your laugh sounds like.

"sorry, i just don’t want my boss switching the best topping out for something like,” you pause, pursing your lips. “i don’t know, raisins.” your nose scrunches up once again.

"what's wrong with raisins? they're just persevering grapes."

you playfully roll your eyes at him. "i'd rather have wine than raisins,” you tell him as you place a lid on top of his order, squishing the peak of the yogurt down.

“well, here you go.” your arm extends over the counter to hand him his dessert. "it's on the house, take it as my apology for forgetting your usual.”

he gives you a small smile as he hesitantly takes his yogurt, wanting to stay with you for just a little while longer.

“so, um, i’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask quietly. there’s a hint of hope in your tone.

he looks back at you, his smile growing wider even though he’s trying so hard to maintain his composure.

"yeah,” he grins, “see you tomorrow."

and for the first time in a long time, kuroo's looking forward to tomorrow.

the commute home suddenly doesn't seem so long anymore, not when kuroo's replaying your interaction over and over in his head.

his imagination starts to run wild, and he wonders what it’d be like to have you in his life. he wonders how you look outside your work clothes and what the first date would be like. he wonders if that'll lead to the first kiss, and he blushes at the thought of you in his arms, your lips against his.

there's a sudden realization that he doesn't even know your name.

but despite this small mishap, his fantasies don’t stop. and maybe he's letting his imagination run too wild, but he wonders how your name would sound with his last.

special shoutout to @megumidulce ​for beta-ing. i luv u <3

[eerythingisshaka]

That One Time...

[Yahya Abdul-Mateen II x Jason Momoa x Reader]

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings:  Issa threesome, so...

The sun warms your body as you may across your towel soaking up the evening rays.  Your energy is pulled out of you little by little as you lie there cooking, taking your sun hat off your face to fan it.  

"You gettin hot, baby?" Yahya asks, sitting next to you.

You nod, "Gettin?  I'm already there.  Its stupid humid out here."

Yahya has a bowl of cubed watermelon that you drowned in some moscato, hovering a piece above you mouth.

"Say ah."  

You open up, taking a bite at first.  The added sweetness of the moscato brought the natural watermelon flavor out even more. Yahya waits patiently until you're ready for the rest, with which you grab ahold of his fingers to suck the residuals juices off.

Yahya's eyes buck as your lips pull on his finger, giving his hand back.  

"See, thats why you running hot.  You in HEAT is what it is."  Yahya snorts.

You sit up to look over the waves crashing onto the beach, wiping your brow.  "Maybe so.  Any time I sweat profusely I get horny."

Yahya smacks on his share of the watermelon loudly.  "Well damn, I know you hell on wheels in the summer then.  And remind me to sign up as your workout buddy."

You look at his glistening arms with mountains and valleys of muscle, firm and pronounced chest, with abs you could play hopscotch on.

You scoff.  "Yeah like you need a workout buddy."

"Aloha brother!"  

You and yahya turn to see in the distance Jason Momoa walking across the sand, wind whipping his mane in front of his face.  He whips his hair back effortlessly as he puts his shirt over his shoulder.

Yahya holds his hand out, welcoming him. "My man, what's happening with you?"

Jason spreads his arms wide, showing off his wingspan in a royal fashion

"Enjoyin the surf, sand and sights!  Speaking of, who's your lady here?"

Yahya points to you.  "Yeah this is (y/n).  We've been hanging out for a bit."

You start to get up but Jason holds up his hands to stop you.

"Ah ah,  don't get those feet in the hot sand.  I'll come to you."  He high steps over to you, squatting down to hold out his hand.  "I'm Jason."

You give him your hand, catching your heart with your other as he firmly shakes it.  Strong manly hands, treating yours tenderly is a wonderful contrast you behold as you greet him.

"So I've heard.  Nice to meet you." 

Jason's eyes meet your body for a second before he continues, "You all been out here very long?  Its gonna start to get dark soon."

Yahya responds.  "I think we were about to head inside for some shade and A/C.  Miss Thing over here is starting to melt."  He teases you, running his hand down your sweaty arm.

"It's true, I'm turning into a puddle as is."  

Jason chuckles, pulling at his beard thoughtfully.  "Well we can't have that!  I was hoping to catch up with you though.  If I ain't cramping on you and your lady's style, maybe I'll come by, bring some beer?"

Yahya rubs his hands together.  "Sounds like a plan to me.   We not far, just in bungalow 3 up there."

Jason looks to where he points.  "No doubt.  I'm gonna take another quick dip and see you guys later, aight?"

Yahya gets up as Jason holds a hand out for you to use as he brings you to standing.  You almost fly forward but his grip is steady on your arms.  

"I'll see you in a bit."  Jason says to you, so low you felt your scalp tingle in response.  You nod, picking up your towel and watching as he walks towards the water, rising up his legs to the dip in his back until he is waist deep in it.  He has a solid torso, plentiful mass You can see yourself pushing against.  The heat must really be getting to you for such thoughts keep creeping in.  Yahya and you walk back to the bungalow as the cooler room temperature evaporates the moisture on your skin instantly.  

"Ohhhh that feels nice."  You moan, patting your scalp as you sit back on the couch.  Yahya plops down next to you, laying a hand on your thigh.

“This is better, right?”  He asks, leaning back next to you, sighing audibly.  You feel his fingers working your inner thigh as you relax with your eyes closed.

“Thank God for air conditioning.  I’m liable to go crazy without it.”  

As you become calm, you feel a tickling on your neck, making you crumble away from the sensation.  

“Come here…” Yahya begs as he leans further into you, reaching for the side of your face to hold you still.

“That tickles, Yahya!  Stop!” you laugh hard feeling his lips nibble from your earlobe to your neck.

“I just wanna eat you up.  I’m sorry.”  he says, but he doesn’t mean it.  He reaches his hand to palm the mound of your pussy over swimsuit, firmly feeling for center through it.

You grab his offending arm, holding tight.  “That’s dirty of you.”

You tongue runs circles around your neck, in rhythm with his fingers on your mound until he pulls the material to the side.  Yahya sits up to look at you opening up for him as his middle finger fiddles with your clit.

“I got all this good pussy in my hand and you think I ain’t finna get taste?”  he asks, looking at you as you grab ahold of the pillows behind you.  Your eyes lock with his  as he pushes two fingers into your depths.

He smiles as you gasp under his come hither motions inside of you, keeping your clit occupied with his thumb.

“Aloha!”  You hear a knock at the front door accompanying a familiar voice.  Yahya pulls his fingers out of you quick as you close your legs promptly, pulling a towel over you.  

“Fucking shit!”  You whisper into your hand.  Yahya heads to the front door to greet Jason.

“Hey man, I got the goods!”  Jason says cheerfully holding up a case of beer.  Yahya takes the box, smoothly licking his fingers like he just finished off a Krispy Kreme.

“Thanks dawg.  Come on in.”  Yahya takes the beer into the kitchen as Jason meets you on the couch.

“He pretty lady.  You ok?  Cooling off too fast?”  Jason looks over the towel covering your body up to you chin suspiciously.

You’re still trying to calm your pussy down as you answer.  “Sure, uh, yeah.  Just a little chilly now I think.”

Jason nods, looking away then back at you.  “So you and Yahya get along good then?”

“Swimmingly.”

Yahya comes out with three beers, tops popped and ready to go.  “So how long you out here for man?”

Jason takes a generous swig followed by a belch.  “Just a few more days, then I gotta head back to Hollywood City!”

Yahya nods, taking a sip of his beer, squinting at you nursing your drink.  He laughs under his breath.

Jason looks between the two of you.  “Did I interrupt something here?”

Yahya begins to nod before you say, “No!  I was just cooling off, and Yahya was about to fix me some ice cream to help, right?”

Yahya rolls his eyes.  “Ok, sure.  I’ll get you a spoon.”

“No, I want a bowl, not the carton.”

Yahya looks at Jason.  “You see this?”

Jason beams at you.  “Listen to her man, she means business.”

As Yahya goes to fix your ice cream, you and Jason sit silently.  You finally have some of your beer, setting the bottle on the coffee table.  Looking over at the bottle in his hand, you take a closer look at his arm.  

“I love your artwork.”  You pick up his arm studying the triangles varying in pattern from black ink to his skin.  

“Thanks.  They are supposed to resemble shark teeth.”  

“Aww, these are too pretty to be shark teeth.”  You say, tracing the shapes like you’re supposed to feel them but all you feel is his skin covered in soft hairs, kissed by the sun, protecting a beefy forearm.

“Sharks can be beautiful when people know to keep a safe distance.”

You feel Jason looking at you and put his arm back down when you start to feel hot again.  “I was thinking about a tattoo but I’m not sure what to get yet.”

Jason holds his arm where your hands were.  “Well, I’m sure you can get anything and it’ll look good on you.  Something that will bring attention to your body more than usual is just extra blessings for people like me, right?”

You glug down the beer almost choking on his compliment when you see him smiling wide at you, touching his knee with yours.  You couldn’t believe the blatant flirting as you start to fan yourself, calming yourself down again.

“Ice cream is served, your most high!”  Yahya declares, spinning with the bowl outstretched, giving a flourish with the spoon until he plops it into the bowl.  “Shall I feed you as well?”

You take the bowl from him, making a face.  “No thank you.  That will be all!”

You take a spoonful into your mouth, moaning with content.  The sugary coolness hit all your taste buds just right.

“Can I get a taste?”  Jason asks.

You look at Yahya then him.  “He can get you some.”

Jason shakes his head.  “I just want a little bite, not a lot.  Watching my figure.”  He pats his barely belly as he rests his arm behind you on the couch, sitting up expectantly.

You fix up a spoonful and turn it to his mouth.  He leans in slow until he opens wide, clamping down on the spoon. He holds tight onto it when you tug until it pops out, some ice cream getting on his beard.  You instinctively wipe away the drop off his chin and you notice how close he is to your face.  And you can’t stop stroking his beard.

“Should I give you all a room or…”  Yahya asks with furrowed brow.

Jason chuckles as you bury yourself in your bowl.  “I didn’t mean to.”

“Jason, how long you tryna be here man?”  Yahya asks defensively, taking a swig of beer.

Jason leans back, moving his knees back and forth.  “I mean, I was hoping for a while.  What do you think?”  He asks you. 

You shrug.  “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you to leave.  You’re Yahya’s friend.”

“Eh, we can be friends too I think.  Yahya, you good if I stay a while?”

Yahya scratches his head.  “To be honest, we were bout to fuck so if you not tryna be a part of that, you can go.”

Jason laughs out loud, holding his chest.  “I knew I was in on something.  You didn’t tell me you were about to get some, girl!”  You set the bowl down.

“Despite Yahya being too loud about it, he’s right.  We were kind of about to...yeah.”

Jason leans on his knees, setting his beer down.  “So…”

Yahya looks at you then Jason, and back again.  “(Y/N)...”  he gets up to sit next to you.  “You know how you had that thing you dreamt about once.”

You search your brain for this conversation he’s bringing up.  “I dream a lot, what do you mean?”

“Well it was me and you, and some other dude and we were…”  Yahya peers at you to finish the sentence.

You cover your mouth in surprise.  “Oh my God, are you serious.”  You look at Jason.  “Was this a plan?”

Jason shakes his head.  “Not at all.  Just chance.  Nice dream though.”

Yahya holds your hand.  “Look, I know him, and you both seem like you’re vibing.  So if you like him, I ain’t opposed.”

Jason leans back, turning further towards you.  “I just need an ok.”

You think about this for a second.  The thing about threesomes intrigued you but whenever you see them in porn you can tell it’s about male dominance and their pleasure and the woman is just a prop for their dicks.  You don’t wanna just get pummeled, if this happens, you’re the star.  You look at Jason, taking his beard in your hands once again, pulling it playfully.  He rubs it feigning injury as you then check out Yahya.  You already know he’s ready to rock you.  You sit up and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him with renewed zeal.  His hands snake up and down your back, pulling you into him as your intentions are translated with your tongue.  You pull away to face Jason.  “If we doin this, it’s gonna be about me.  Y’all getitn your dicks wet regardless but I will not be turned into a pulverized melon cuz y’all wanna drill me from both ends to kingdom come.”

“Goddamn!” Yahya gasps in shock.

“Jesus!”  Jason bursts out.  “That’s not what I’m here for anyway.  I only want to see you in your element, however we can bring that out.”

You feel yourself grow anxious as you settle back into the couch picking at your cuticle.  Jason looks cool as ever, eyes in a brooding squint, hair wild from the outdoors.  Yahya just stares at you legs like he’s standing in front of the microwave with 10 seconds left.

No longer wanting to feed the silence you say, "Well I don't know how to start this."  

Yahya smiles, teeth bright and inviting.  "I'll let myself do the honors on that.  Continue where I was before I got interrupted, you know."

Jason holds his hands up in surrender.  "By all means."

Yahya gets on his knees maneuvering himself in front of your knees, kneading the outside of your thighs.   You take a deep breath to control your heart rate, giving Jason a small smile as he sits idly by with his arm around the back of the couch.

You feel Yahya squeeze your legs to get your attention.  "You good?"

You start to massage your temples.  "Yeah, yeah, just nervous."

He leans up towards you, inches from your face.  "I got you.  I'll be here the whole time, you'll be great." He raises his eyebrows, to which you not as he plants a kiss on your lips.  You hold his face, allowing his lips to tenderize the kinks in your mind.  When he pulls back, he looks over at Jason.  "I know he looks like he was raised wild, but he a softie.  You'll wear him out before anything."

As Yahya cackles at him, Jason says, "Alright, that's the last time I wanna know your opinion.  This is her show, don't delay it."

Yahya reaches for the waist of you swimsuit bottoms tugging them past your hips.  You lift up to allow him to expose your privacy, taking his hands to lift one leg up, then the other.  You look at Jason who glances down at you, tucking his lips.

Yahya keeps your thighs in his hands before asking, “You ready?”

You exhale, adjusting your seated stance before affirming.  Yahya dips his head closer to your you center, looking up at you as he opens his mouth.  His soft pink tongue unfurls slowly towards your aching core before finally making contact.  You hiss with pleasure under his gaze.  Yahya studies your reaction as he works his neck, surfing his tongue back and forth between your labia.  He takes one hand to spread your lips further, allowing better exposure of your clit to the tip of his tongue.

His eyes on you the whole time feels invasive but shame does not stop you.  His leer only fuels your inner passions.  You squirm under his mouth work as Jason enjoys the show, adjusting himself from time to time.

“Look at you go, girl.”  Jason mutters with a smile.

You cover your face for a second with embarrassment, forgetting almost that it wasn’t just you and Yahya.  You feel the concentrated suction of your clit, bringing your attention back to the man between your legs.  Yahya hollows out his cheeks, giving your pussy prime attention.  You grip the top of his head to keep him in your right spot, curling your body up as your mouth slacks open in the sudden crash of orgasm ravaging your body.  Your whimpers subside when Yahya finally turns your clit loose, kissing your mound and inner thighs.

“Let me try that.”  Jason offers, giving your inner thigh a squeeze.  

You don’t feel so anxious as before, but the shift in partners makes your mind race.  Yahya sits beside you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling your face to look at him.

“I’m good, if you’re good, right?”  Yahya’s eyes have a sparkle to them that you adore.  His look of honesty is so adorable to you, you forget what’s happening until it happens.  You feel the tickle of his hair on along your thighs before you feel his soft kiss on your vulva.  You watch Jason slowly pull on your inner lips  with hips, softly sucking your juices off little by little. 

“Just as good as I imagined.”  Jason growls, winking up at you as he thumbs your clit. 

You lay your head back, eyes glazing over the ceiling whilst enjoying the feel of his tongue dipping into your opening.  Yahya’s lips suck on your neck as his hand covers your breast.  You use your chin to push Yahya away from your neck and kiss him, twirling your tongue in circles with his.  As you kiss, your hand travels Yahya’s solid cobbled abs and reach into his shorts, gripping his already hardened dick.

Yahya grown into you mouth kissing you hard as you pull him out and begin to jerk him off.  You love the feel of his skin tightening as he grows under your touch.  Licking your hand, you work his tip fast as Yahya grips the hair at the nape of your neck, looking at you with agony.  You lick your lips breathing harder as Jason’s fingers stroke your walls, lapping up your clit as you baptize him.  Your other hand reaches his hair, gripping his tresses like reins as your hips buck toward him while you continue to squeeze the life outta Yahya’s dick.

“Shit, nah, Jason move out.  I gotta get me some of this pussy here.”  Yahya demands, pulling his shorts off.

Jason gets up, beard moistened.  “I could live in that.”

You sit up and give Jason a kiss, licking yourself from his lips greedily. 

“You did good.”  You say, smacking the side of his face playfully, making his whole face smile.  

“Why thank you.  Compliments to the chef.”  

As Jason stands up, Yahya takes a hold of your legs, pulling them to the side so you’re laid across the couch.  

“Turn over.  I want that ass on me.”  You oblige Yahya, turning on your belly and pulling your knees up under you.  As Yahya positions himself behind you, you tell Jason to take his shorts off.  Jason, does so hastily, getting comfortable on the couch again, tugging at his erection.  

“Arch that back for me girl.”  Yahya insists, pulling your hips back to him.  You look back, twisting your hips from side to side.  

“You tryna show off with all this ‘do this, do that’ shit in front of your friend?”  You say.

Yahya smacks your ass with a loud pop, making you straighten up.  Even Jason jumped from the noise.

“Shit!  My bad!”  You say, backing into him some more until you feel him poking.  Yahya’s body looked like carved stone, so solid with the right curves where it counts.  Yahya slides his dick up and down your center, stirring your wetness around and making you seethe.  Your pussy felt sensitive enough for him to just tease you some more.  He plants his hand on your lower back, pushing into you slowly.  You start to collapse under his girth, the pressure of him hitting your G spot makes you lose your cool.  

“Aye, don’t lose that arch on me.  Come on back here.”  Yahya warns you, gripping your hips tight as you feel him pushing deeper.  You sit up on your hands, arching again.  Jason kneels in front of you, taking your face in his hands.  

“You are so sexy,” Jason says, kissing your shoulder.  When you meet Jason’s eyes, your tongue meets his, lapping each other up as Yahya works you out.  

Yahya pulls out of you, and back in again, picking up the tempo as you’ve grown accustomed to his fit.

“That’s the pussy I like.  That’s that happy pussy.”  Yahya moans as he stroke your walls vigorously.  You writhe in Jason’s face, kissing him deeply between various curses as Yahya blows out your back.  Once your skins get to slapping, you feel your strength begin to build.  You don’t like Yahya to hold all the cards in this position for long, matching his pace to push your ass back on him.

“Shit, shit.  Chill for a second with that!”  Yahya warns, pushing you body down until it’s prone with the couch.  He hovers over the top of you, rolling his hips into your ass to his you from a ne angle and you feel every inch of that newness.  You break from Jason’s kiss to look up at Yahya hovering right above you.

“You don’t play fair baby.”  You pout.  

“And you play dirty.”  Yahya responds, cupping your jaw to bring your mouth to his as his hips snake himself in and out of you.  Your grip the cushions hard, feeling helpless to his pleasure.  When Yahya turns you loose, he lands kisses all over your ass peppering a smack or two in between.  

“Aight, your turn.”  Yahya lets Jason knows as he strokes himself, collapsing on the free section of couch.  Jason takes your hand, helping you to sit up.

“You think you can handle a ride?”  He says, slapping his thighs.  

You smile as you meander over to him.  “Question is can you?”

You bring your leg over him to straddle him.  Jason cradles your ass on his hands, smiling at you.  You break your cool for a second, almost laughing right in his face but recovering.  

“Cutie, you’re funny.  You’re having fun?”

You nod, looking over at Yahya, who looks amused by you straddling his friend and preparing to fuck him.

“You wanna put it in or should I?”  Jason asks.

You bite your lip, reaching between the two of you for his member.  He felt more than ready to go, moving himself further under you.

“Make sure your seat is fluffed nicely right.”  He says, putting his hand behind his head, stroking your leg with the other.  

Finally you line up his tip to you, inserting him before sitting down on his length.  It was easier this time but the new dick still made you curl your fingers into Jason’s chest.  You watch Jason’s face scrunch up as you slide up and down his dick.

“Fuck, that’s good.  Ah!”  

You roll your hips on top of him, keeping your face stern enjoying having his body underneath you.  His hands search his hair for stability, tweaking over the feeling you gave him.  You take his wrists and guide them to your breasts, inviting him to an additional stimulus for the both of you.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me.  Touch me…”  You moan as Jason filled you out just right to stimulate you, overrunning your ability to function.  Jason’s hands roll from your breasts to the meat of your hips, thrusting himself into you deeper.  He bites his lip as he holds firm to you, your hands hold on to the top of his, squeezing on tight as he smacks into you at full speed.  You collapse on top of him, nuzzling into his chest to catch your brain up with your body.  Jason locks his arms around you, slowly gyrating into you, you feel your clit becoming more aroused.  You moan together as he keeps you clamped down, taking advantage of your pleasure.

“Oh, Jason, I’m cumming, don’t stop!”  You shriek with each penetrative motion, tightening around him.  Your body naturally pushes against his hold but he doesn’t let go.

“Ah you’re so wild.  I’m almost done, you’re taking me there.”  Jason says, grabbing you as he sits up.  He holds your back as you lean away from him, rolling your hips on his lap, gripping him until he can’t take it anymore.  He stands up with you in his arms, plopping you back on the couch before he pulls out of you, spewing his seen along your belly.  You lay back, feet to the sky as he empties himself onto you.

“Wow, just wow.  This girl, man.”  Jason kisses you again, holding himself until he sits himself down by your head.  “You take it like a champ, girl.”

“Come here Yahya.  We not done.”  You say motioning for him to come over, teasing your clit for added temptation.

Yahya eagerly positions himself between your legs.

“You tryna make me jealous over there?”  He asks, running his length along the outside of your swollen pussy.

You shake your head.  “If you felt that way, that’s just cuz your hand’s not as good as me.”  

Yahya chuckles.  “You damn right about that.”  He says as he enters you.

You both moan in harmony giving into lust.  Yahya lifts one leg over his shoulder to dig deeper into you, driving you crazy.  You run your nails into his sides, squeezing tightly into hardened core for stability as his hips slap into you.  You feel his breath on you, tilting his face to yours to kiss him through his stroking, playing with yourself at the same time.  You grip his neck, feeling his heartbeat into your palm.  

“Fuck this pussy, harder baby.”  You say before another wave hits your pelvis, spreading throughout your body, causing you to lose control.  Your legs lock around him tightly, forcing all of him inside you as you scream his name like a pep rally cheer.  

“Ah that’s fucked up.  Locking me in like that.”  He rests his head into your shoulder as he lays his final strokes into you, grunting in your ear.  You feel an overwhelming accomplishment as you feel him spill onto you in the same spot as Jason had, mixing the two cums together on your stomach.

“Baby, you nasty as hell!”  Yahya exclaims, standing over you with a proud grin.  

“That’s a beast right here!”  Jason says with vigor, kissing you one final time where you lay.  “I can’t say enough how amazing you are.”  

You get up slowly with the help of Jason while feeling works it’s way back into your legs.

“You guys got paper towels?”  Jason asks as he pulls his shorts back on.

“Yeah, in the kitchen just take one of those.”  Yahya instructs, pulling his shorts on before planting another kiss on you.  “Did you like it?”

You laugh a little long, clutching your pearls.  “Enjoyed it?  That was a fucking blast, are you kidding?  I think you were trying to show Jason up but I didn’t mind it.”

Yahya sucks his teeth.  “I wasn’t worried about him.”

“‘Oh YoU TrYnA mAkE mE jEaLoUs?’”  you say mockingly.

“Think fast.”  Jason tosses the towel at Yahya.  

“There you go, smart ass.”  Yahya says, cleaning your stomach off.

“I gotta hit the road guys.  Thanks again for…” Jason takes your hand, kissing the back of it, “...an exceptional time.  Call me if you’re up for another round.”  Jason offer, shaking Yahya’s hand as he lets himself out.

Yahya lays across you, settling his face between your breasts.  “I am so tired.”

“My bad.”  You say, smiling when he gives you a look.

“Have you cooled off by now?”  He asks.

You shrug.  “I’m getting there.  But it’s supposed to be hot all week, so…”

A/N:  How many of y’all can tell I have had a horned up week, huh?  If this gets no notes, I deserve it.

[irishtowriteabook]

-Growing Pains- Part 2

🌸Continuation of the last part which isn’t a necessity to read but I would recommend it! Enjoy!

Dedicated to @caras-fabulous-corner for being absolutely fabulous (I’m sorry I had to) and just a genuinely lovely cutie to talk to! 💕

...

Bottles upon bottles and packages of packages surrounded Natalie. She sat cross legged on the bed utterly drowning in Pandal, Neurofen, and store own brand painkillers. You name it, she had it in arms reach. Or at the very least was sitting on it.

Natalie skimmed over the labels, heaving sighs as none seemed to be strong enough dosage for neither David or Zane. She genuinely felt like some old timey alchemist from David’s Dungeon & Dragons game. Or Jeff.

Zane’s complaints of his pain fell on mostly deaf ears and so he bit on the various pillows surrounding him. Nice.

Both her and Matt pilfered through the bottles but to little success. It was a pain. Hah! Matt ruffled his hair in annoyance as he side eyed the alarm clock, 12:32pm. Another half an hour, at best, for the chemist to be ready with the proper wisdom teeth removal numbing creams and whatnot.

Carly peeped her head around the doorway a fair few times to check on Zane, now called Toothless, and warned the pair of a hangry and hungover David’s awakening. Way to make it sound like he’s a vampire.

Natalie laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear as Zane beckoned her forward with puckered lips. She leant down on his shoulder, resting a bit of her body weight on the man. Mission narrow avoiding of bloody drool dripping from Zane’s gaping mouth: success.

Matt rolled the most suitable bottle of medication over to him with a “Yoink!” and began crushing it into Zane’s drink. He masked his irritated semi well when Zane played with (read as: yanked roughly) Matt’s locks.

This morning had been up in the air to put it lightly. David half woke up with a bare recollection of last nights events and the severe urge to puke up his soul (mostly) into the toilet bowl. Due to his rare indulgence in the Vodka floats his camera manning skills were not exactly up to par, so to speak. The footage came out blurry for the most part despite the (top of the range) camera focuser. Read as: Unusable vlog material.

Natalie sighed as Zane squeezed her much too tightly. She hated seeing David so stressed and worse yet disappointed in himself. Oh and Zane got his wisdom teeth distracted and was in excruciating pain. That too.

“What’s up?” A rhetoric question sounded as the bedroom door was pushed open. Natalie’s eyes trailed up David’s body to his face. He was still wearing his red striped pyjama bottoms and short sleeved black vest and was still looking as cute as he was last night.

Natalie noticed it. It was lighting but she seen it. David’s grin faltered as he ran his brown eyes over Natalie and Zane’s position but he quickly recuperated.

Wordlessly recording the going’s on Natalie found she greatly missed his usual commentary. It was replaced by a brief question directed towards Zane about his pants, or lack thereof.

Natalie smoothly (hastily and very obviously) evacuated Zane’s hold. He pouted but didn’t try stop her.

“Will I tell Taylor to pick you up some Chipotle Dave?” Natalie questioned to which David shrugged.

“I’ll ask her myself. Your usual Nat?” His eyes were averted from hers the moment he could. Zane’s garbles distracted her.

“Go away Dave, you’re too loud man!” He said with little hesitance in his delirious state. The silence in the room was tangible as David merely shrugged and went to turn on his heel.

Natalie braced herself in the seconds it took to crawl to the edge of the bed and of course shoulder Matt in the process. Her knee landed on something suspiciously squishy. A pillow. Zane could still have kids.

David paused as her small hand wrapped around his wrist, ultimately stopping him.

“No-“ Nat dragged out the o’s. “You can’t leave me here with these guys.” David watched her closely as she sat back on her knees pulling him so that he leaned over her.

“You seemed pretty alright when I got here? I’ve got get to get extra footage anyways.” David, despite his excuse, made absolutely no attempt whatsoever to dislodge himself from her.

“Extra footage is my middle name. Yours is Julian.” Natalie tilted her head to the side, mischievous swimming in her eyes as David pulled a face.

He looked extremely tempted to stay but dramatic laughter arose from the living room, taunting him. Natalie rolled her eyes before kneeling upwards; Her fingertips reached up to gently nudge David’s face towards her. He fumbled over his word choice as he realised there are certain closeness. The brunette bit her lip which may Davids eyes hone in on that one spot. Above her lip. A zit really. Okay no, he’ll admit it, just her pinkish lips.

“I really- I really would love to stay and spoonfeed Zane but-“

“We can get under the covers and edit together. Hm? You never know, maybe there‘s some footage still usable.” His eyebrows the road as he reminisced on his shaky camera skills.

“Besides..I want you here.” Natalie included nervously. David is wide eyes snapped back to hers and that was it.

After much clambering over limbs (instead of walking around the side of the bed like a normal human being), disgruntled complaints from Zane as he chowed down on the metal spoon instead of the cinnamon jelly, the pair finally budged up beside one another on the bed.

...

The camera whirred and buzzed as the lens centred in on Natalie. She recited and rehashed the days events and some story on Zane’s behaviour that incited laughter from the attentive trio.

Natalie rolled onto her side from her back and turned away from the camera towards David. His double chin protruded in the cutest of ways as he waited.

“You should put like text below when editing- no comic Sans- saying Natalie cam” David’s eyes lit up as that new segment idea came to mental fruition.

Natalie smiled contentedly even though her arm holding up the camera was starting to ache.

“Extra work!” David groaned jokingly to which Natalie mocked. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed this easy flowing banter of theirs.

“It’s easier then freeze frames” They shared knowing smirks. Natalie leaned over David to the point where she could feel his breath as she placed his camera down.

David sensed her sore throat from her storytelling and handed her his water bottle to take a grateful and greatly needed swig from.

“Guys, David is going to get us a puppy!” Natalie directed to the camera on the nightstand.

David nodded his head at the camera but shook his head at Natalie.

“Nope” He popped the P. “Not happening!” Natalie gently smack to hand down over his mouth, successfully cutting him off.

“10,000 likes and he’ll do it” She interceded and Matt and Zane damn near guffawed.

“He’s a YouTuber with 8 million views and 500 K likes on the daily!” Matt chuckles in a know-it-all tone.

David suddenly grabbed Natalies wrists in one hand and acted as a catalyst for her play struggling. She glared at him as he effortlessly slugged down his water bottle contents.

“I’m going to get that puppy.” Natalie replied. Her eyes drifted over his jawline unabashedly.

She leaned over him determinedly and he hitched an eyebrow, looking such a way that made her thoughts wander. She was like a river. Cute boy turned 50 shades of smouldering. Not okay.

“Oh yeah? Good luck.” He grunted, squaring up. Natalie groaned and swatted him with the sleeve of her merch hoodie before flopping down on his chest, defeated.

“Heard that!” David laughed as she cursed him out. His grin was the tell-tale that he wasn’t just this happy over the footage.

Natalie felt him contemplate for a second, as if revving up his bravery engine reserves. The camera lens clicked to focus on his unexpectedly strong arms as they wrapped around Natalie.

“Come here.” he said. Natalie felt herself being hooched up directly onto his chest and his arms encircled around her.

“Does this mean we’re getting a puppy then?” she wondered aloud. Being flush against him she could feel his laughter rumbling in his chest.

“You never give up!” he teased affectionately as he rested his chin on her head. This was major. For him. For her. For them. This newfound old connection! Things had changed between them lately, she knew that. Did he know that too? And this was only the beginning.

“Mark my words!” Natalie mouthed to the camera. David swayed her from side to side as she glowered at the lens. However when she realised she didn’t have to like hide her happiness anymore like usual? She allowed a smile to form. Zane mumbles as David banged into him slightly but otherwise stayed lost in his own world as Matt cleaned out his mouth with salt and water solution.

Natalie reached out and tilted the camera away. As it was shoved aside the entangling of their legs, her short covered tan ones and his pale as a ghost tracksuit bottom covered one, was recorded.

“I am assuming this is the second channel gold then?” she giggled, her lips brushing the skin of his neck as she spoke.

David brushed her back gently, soaking up this rarer-than a-white rhino-moment. He relaxed beneath her fully.

“Main channel.”

Natalie popped up at that from the crook of his neck. She met his eyes before closing hers. With a fellswoop she leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. Holding it for few seconds, her hand crept up to tilt the opposite side of his job with the knuckle of her index finger. Not that he’d pull away anyways.

David’s hand paused midair, shocked at her lack of hesitation in front of Matt. Is fingertips barely touched her shoulder because all’s that he could focus on was how near illegally soft her lips were.

...

Hello there! Hope this met any expectations 💓

Comments and likes really do help any and all authors or creators (artists etc) so please consider that before moving along with your day! Thank you to those who submitted ideas, I’ll be working on them over the weekend and anyone who wants to submit some of their own please go ahead as it’s never too late or too much -Ella ♥️

[yodawgiherd]

Crime and Punishment

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Sneaking in not one but two small requests this time. Who is this guy??

Enjoy!

The coffee swirls were interesting to watch, especially for someone as tired as Eren was. Tiny black whirlpool, going round and round, endlessly chasing after the trail left behind by the spoon. Fruitless activity, as they could never catch it, yet they kept trying.

“How’s the talk with your mug?”, Ymir walked in smirking, coming to stand next to his table, “Anything interesting?”

“Not much.”, Eren shrugged, taking a sip instead. It hit the spot.

“He isn’t answering.”

“That’s good, since we have to go anyway.”

Nodding, Eren stood up, legs feeling just a tad bit unsteady underneath him.

“How’s the patient?”

“All prepped and ready. Waiting for us to go and cut him open.”

“Then we better not keep him waiting.”

But when he tried to push his way out of the room, Ymir stopped him, casting an inspecting eye over his disheveled visage.

“Hey, are you sure you’re up to this? That’s some serious case of dark circles under your eyes man.”, she looked him up and down, more unsure by the second, “When was the last time you slept?”

“Oh, come on, what are you, my mom? Let’s go.”

With half playful and half firm shove, he got around her, making his way to the operating theater, with Ymir hot on his heels. Honestly speaking, Eren couldn’t answer her question even if he wanted to. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

The patch of skin in front of him looked like any other, white and eerie in the intense light, waiting for him to cut. It was a bit blinding, making Eren’s vision swim, flickering from time to time. But it didn’t matter, he had to do this, there was no other way. Taking a deep breath, Eren planted the point of the scalpel right against it, preparing himself.

“Making the first incision…”

Fingers closed around his wrist, preventing the cut, making his gaze fly up to see who it was. Ymir was staring at him from across the table, eyes hard above the surgical mask.

“Eren what the fuck!”, she hissed, “Your fucking hands are shaking!”

She was right, he realized, looking down at his work. The short trail he left behind, quickly filling with blood, was jagged and zig-zag, ugly against the white. Horrified, he put down the scalpel with a clink, taking a step back.

“Get out of here.”, Ymir rounded the table, taking his place, “I got this.”

“You… good to finish it yourself, need something?”

She shook her head, already working.

“Go.”

Under the puncturing gazes of nurses and the weight of his own failure, he stumbled out. It took all the mental fortitude he had to keep himself on his feet.

“Eren.”

Voice he knew very well, deep and rich, radiating calmness. A chair scraped the floor, and someone took a seat across, shifting a bit to get comfortable. Eren was afraid to meet the judgmental gaze, but there really was no way around it, so, steeling himself, he looked up, right into Erwin’s eyes.

“Hello sir.”

“I trust that you know why I’m here.”

“I believe I do.”

“Good.”, a nod, “Then listen closely, because I want you to remember everything I say.”

Erwin leaned back, fingers drumming against the desk.

“Last time I saw you, it was Monday. Have you been home since then?”

“No sir, but its been just a day right? It’s Tuesday?”

“It’s Thursday, Eren.”

Wait, so he went without a proper sleep for three straight days? There were an hour or two long naps he managed to squeeze in, but that was far from enough. Dropping his head to his hands, Eren let out a pained groan. He really did fuck up.

“I had someone give a quick look over your work for the past days,”, Erwin continued, “and they didn’t find any big faults, so that’s good. But we did find some smaller mistakes, especially in the last hours. I think it’s safe to say that you are in no condition to do a surgery.” His eyes grew hard, “Yet you still attempted to do one, and would probably go through with it if it wasn’t for Ymir.”

“Sir, I’m sorry I…”

But Erwin didn’t let him speak.

“You not fucking up big time and the previous perfect record you have, those are the only reasons I’m not firing you on the spot. Got it?”

“I…”

“Why the hell did you pull this? Four days in a row here?”

Eren’s throat was somewhat dry, and he had to swallow a few times before he could croak an answer.

“I wanted to ask for vacation soon, so I thought that I’ll put in a few more hours to compensate.”

“You already did more in the last month than others do in three. Listen, if you want time off, you come to me, ask for it, and I’ll very gladly give it to you. Okay?”

There really was no room for discussion. Then again, not like Eren deserved to have any.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Now, you will pack your things, go home, and think, really think, about what happened, could have happened. Sure, maybe the surgery would go smoothly, maybe nothing would have happened. But I think that we both know that way more likely is the possibility of you fucking up, and having the person either have some serious complications, or dying outright. There, on the table, just because of you and your stubbornness.”

Erwin stood up, towering in all his impressive height, looking down at Eren.

“I already called your girlfriend to pick you up, so get changed, pack, and wait for her.”

“I can drive…”

“In this state?”, Erwin shook his head, “You will do as I say in this. And Eren, if I see you at work before Monday, I’ll fire you on the spot. Understand?”

“Crystal clear.”

Gamer headset: on.

Knuckles: cracked

Boyfriend: at work (again)

Yep… it’s gamer time.

Watching the loading circle do its endless loop, Mikasa took a sip of her coke, reclining on the sofa. To Eren’s credit, he did say that he has to finish his assignments, because logically, a surgeon can’t just say fuck it and pack and leave in a single day. So no, she wasn’t mad at him, they talked about it, but still. Spending basically the whole week in a hospital…. It was just weird. The leave he promised to take couldn’t be here fast enough. Gaming the evening away was as nice plan as any other, but just before she loaded in, a ring of her phone interrupted Mikasa, making her frown on the screen. Unknown number was calling, and she considered just hanging up for a moment, but in the end decided against it.

“Hello?”

“Miss Ackerman? Hi, this is Erwin Smith, I work at the hospital your fiancé is at?”

Erwin? That was Eren’s boss right? A bit of fear creeped under her skin.

“Of course, sir, I know who you are. Did something happen? Is Eren okay?”

“That’s up for discussion. Miss Ackerman, we need to talk.”

Eren found Mikasa in the lobby, leaning against the wall, lips pressed into a tight line. When she spotted him, her expression didn’t change a bit, and she quickly walked out, not even bothering to check if he was following her. With a sigh, he did. She was already seated on the bike when he reached her, wordlessly giving him the spare helmet.

“Put this on.”

“Look, Miki, I…”

She shook her head.

“Eren, don’t. Just don’t.”

The ride home was silent, with just the wind around him for company. Mikasa’s attitude was about as cold as the weather, as she immediately stormed off as soon as she parked, closing the door after herself with a bang. Shuffling after her, Eren did his best to prepare some sort of speech inside his head, a way to defend his action, but there really was no excuse. He fucked up, plain and simple. Mikasa had her back to him when he entered the living room, hands squeezing the armrest of the couch, the tension in her shoulders clearly visible. Reaching out, he put a hand on her, not missing the way she flinched from his touch.

“Miki, I’m sorry.”

No response.

“What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Because I’m not doing that.”, this silent treatment was starting to piss Eren off, and he could feel his temper rising. “I know I fucked up, but you acting like a bitch isn’t really helping so…”

Quick as lightning, she turned, grabbing Eren by the collar and pressing him against the wall, his body sliding upwards. Before he realized what was happening, Eren was hanging in the air, with Mikasa effortlessly holding him up. Her rage was not that quick to boil, but now she was pissed, properly, and it showed. It was scary to realize just how strong she was, when she wasn’t holding back, the grip on his shirt like iron, with Eren having no chance to get out of it unless Mikasa lets him.

“You know it? You know just how badly you fucked up? Great! So, lets just forget about it, right?”, jaw clenching in anger, she shook him like a sack of potatoes, “Fuck sake Eren, do you realize what could have happened? Do you?”

“I’m sorry, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right. Erwin said that you could have killed someone, just because you are so fucking stubborn! This shit you do, acting like a child, unable to be reasoned with, it just makes me want to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

“Why don’t you then?”

Grey eyes blinked in surprise, looking right into his greens. She had every reason to be taken aback, now that Eren thought about it, but sometimes, people are just weird. Mikasa was angry at him, rightfully, and deep down, Eren wanted to be punished, because it was his fault, no one else’s. Erwin, Mikasa, Ymir, they all told him to stop, go back to normal shifts, go home, rest. But no, he knew better, wouldn’t listen, and ended up almost killing someone. He did act like a child, spoiled and unreasonable, so maybe getting punished like one was exactly the thing that he needed.

“You know,”, letting him down, Mikasa took a step back, “I just might…”

She was still looking for the confirmation that he was serious, and Eren gladly gave her one.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Right. Follow me then.”

Up and to the bedroom, Mikasa removed the decoy punching bag from their old friend, the hook, rummaging through the drawers after. On her command, Eren removed his shirt, holding up his hands in front after for her to cuff them.

“I think that you are a bit too old for over the knee stuff, so we’ll have to improvise.”

Connecting Eren’s wrists together with a chain, she led him to the hook, clicking the things together. Now he was naked from waist up, hands raised, tied to the ceiling, while still having no idea what was about to happen. Mikasa was doing something behind his back, out of sight, most likely choosing the instrument of her wrath. Finding it, she came to stand right behind him, clearing her throat.

“Eren, why am doing this?”

“Because you are a control freak?”

A pause.

“Why am I doing this?”

Well all right, if she wanted to play it like this…

“Because I made a mistake, a big one, which endangered the lives of my patients.”

“And?”, she prompted him to go on.

“And I almost fucked my whole career in the process.”, Eren took a shaky breath, “I ignored every advice, everyone who meant well, and kept going, hardheaded like a kid. So, I’m being punished like one.”

“Good boy.”

The whip bit into his skin painfully, forcing Eren to clench his teeth in order to remain silent. Fuck this was great. It was weird, the primal need he felt, the need to feel some sort of reaction to his actions. He fucked up, big time, and the punishment in the form of a short chastising speech from Erwin just didn’t quite cut it. He wanted the pain, needed it. But tonight, he was feeling especially guilty, and decided to push Mikasa a bit, to see if she would perhaps go a bit harder than usual. After all, what could go wrong?

“Oh? Was that it? I hardly even felt it.”

After a bit of silence, she hit him again, noticeably harder. Good, but somehow not enough.

“Are you scratching my back? Could you move a little bit to the left, I have this itch there…”

Mikasa finally couldn’t hold her tongue.

“Eren. Shut up.”

“Make me.”

With a shuffle of clothing, she appeared in front of him, frowning.

“What the hell do you want?”

“I want you to hit me.”

She held up the whip.

“I am hitting you.”

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

Mikasa’s eyes immediately widened, the wariness easy to see.

“That’s dangerous, I can’t…”

He yawned, interrupting her.

“You done?”

“Eren…”

“Come on, what are you so scared of? Hit me!”

The conflict inside her was noticeable, the way her jaw tightened and loosened, the way her fingers played with the handle of the whip. Mikasa wanted to go hard on him, both for the shit he pulled and the bratty mouth, but hitting him as hard as she could? With this whip? But if he really wanted it….

“Fine. You want me to hit you as hard as I can?”

He nodded.

“As you wish then.”

Coming to stand behind him again, Mikasa pulled her arm back, working her wrist in small circles. If he wanted it so bad, then he can have it.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

“Here I come.”

The sound was earsplitting, a quick whoosh of the whip flying through the air ended with an audible crack as it connected with his back. It was a nice hit, beginning at right hip and going all the way up to the left shoulder. Seeing how he clenched his muscles against the pain, the whispered “Fuck.” that escaped him, Mikasa was very satisfied with herself for about five seconds. Then, Eren sagged in the bonds, and the line on his back started turning red.

“Oh my god,”, Mikasa threw the whip away, rushing to the front, taking a hold of his pale face to see. Eren’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was swallow, as the pain must have been overwhelming. “Eren! Eren, you’re bleeding! Jesus, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want..”

He whispered something she didn’t quite catch, so she leaned forward, hoping that he will repeat it.

“Red…”

Safeword, he’s going to say a damn safeword when he’s bleeding from his back. As if Mikasa didn’t know that she had to stop. God damn it. Reaching up, she undid the cuffs, gently lowering Eren down to the floor. She didn’t know if moving him was a good idea, so after a few panicked thoughts Mikasa just knelt, putting his head on her lap, letting him rest there.

“Eren? Please say something…”

He swallowed, grimaced, rolled his shoulders a bit and winced immediately. Fuck, it hurt.

“You’re bleeding on the floor.”, she noticed, the horror inside her creeping up. She should do something, right? “What can I do?”

“Give me a second.”, Eren finally spoke, getting his breathing under control. “It’s not that bad, just ripped skin. Blood is all right.”

“What should I do?”, she repeated.

“Need to clean the wound and bandage it. Don’t worry I’ll guide you.”

“No stitches?”

Even with the pain, Eren had to stifle a laugh when he imagined coming to the hospital for stitches on his back. Hey dude, how did it happen? Oh, you know, my girlfriend whipped me so hard that she cut through the skin. Anyway, how’s your day?

“Nah, no stitches.”

“I’ll go get the things then.”, as gently as humanly possible, she lowered his head down from her legs on the floor, standing up, “You’ll be okay here?”

“It’s really not that bad.”, braving through the sting, he offered her a smile, hoping to ease her worries a little bit, “I’m okay.”

But when she left, and he tried getting up, his body folded almost immediately, refusing to move. Not that bad, but not that good either.

Mikasa was a quick student, cleaning and bandaging the cut very efficiently, following his guidance almost flawlessly. After her care, he was able to relocate to the bed, with her help, laying down with a sigh. Finally, Eren was feeling as tired as he should be, the shock and adrenaline dying down to the overwhelming need for sleep.

“Again, I’m so sorry.”, Mikasa sat down next to him, playing with his hair, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“And I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard. It was my fault too.”

“The dom is supposed to be in control…”

“But we weren’t really playing, were we?”

Mikasa sighed.

“Guess we both fucked up then.”

“Yea, but we found ourselves in that situation only because I did the dumb stuff at the hospital.”

“I just hope you finally realize just how terrible it would be for you if something serious happened.”, she looked down, voice shaky, “If he died because of you, Eren, it would have destroyed you. If you lost your license…”, eyes meeting his again, Eren realized that hers were wet, unshed tears in them, “You need this work, to help people, if you couldn’t do it anymore…. I don’t even know what we would do.”

Taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice, Eren could feel his cheeks burning. She was right. He needed this work, and today he came so damn close to losing it, just because he was dumb. A rude awakening, but a needed one.

“I know, and I promise I’ll change.”

They both fell silent for a time, with Mikasa dragging her fingers through his hair endlessly, lulling him to sleep. But before he let the darkness take him, a last thought struck him.

“Miki?”

“Hm?”

“I think I won’t take the days off now, but later.”

She frowned, confused.

“Why?”

“Because now I would have free time, but you are in a middle of your projects. And I prefer spending my free time with you.”

A flattering statement, one she rewarded with a kiss on the forehead.

“So, I’ve been thinking, how about I take my vacation when you are free too, and then we can be together. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”, another kiss, this time a feather light brush of the lips, “Now go to sleep.”

To appear at least a little bit rebellious, Eren rolled his eyes at the order.

“Yes mom.”

“What, should I tell Carla that you want me to take her place?”

“Erm… No?”

Mikasa arched an eyebrow down at him.

“You know what, I’ll just be silent. Night baby, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Mouth right at his ear, the next whisper tickled him.

“My dear son.”

[tobiologist]

swipe right (if you like me)

Keith/Lance // met on tinder!au // 7.6k+ // sfw // part 4/?

Summary: “I’m doin’ it. Lance giggles under his breath and drags the cat meme picture to the right side of his screen.

But this, friends, is why one shouldn’t tempt fate over Tinder.“

or: Lance finds the most unlikely match on Tinder and (might) gain a boyfriend in the process

Keith

Keith really should’ve anticipated this now that he and Lance were dating.

Well, not officially dating-dating but working towards dating. Neither of them wanted to slap a label on their relationship quite yet, an agreement they’d come to about a week ago now. But that’s not what’s important. What is important is the discussion the two are currently having.

>> READ THE REST ON AO3 <<

Lance taps his chin, peering at the ceiling. Meanwhile, Keith studies the Jenga tower. It balances in the center of the table amongst a few stray textbooks and notebooks. Pens and other writing utensils litter the area, along with a couple sets of plastic triangles, geometric stencils, and protractors. The stubby end of a pencil protrudes from the metal grip of a compass.

It started as a chance to study together. Lance invited Keith over to finish their latest flight dynamics assignment. At first, Keith suggested they meet at the library, but it was the perfect opportunity for some quality time together. Without Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Matt— just the two of them. Even if it were spent slaving over stability and control derivatives. Keith would’ve felt like an absolute dick had he rejected the offer.

Plus, the completed assignment would probably span a whopping twenty-some, if not thirty, pages. Collaboration was crucial unless he wanted to live at the library for the next two days.

As a reward for finishing ahead of schedule, Lance pulled out the Jenga tower. According to him, it kept the trio occupied on nights they didn’t engross themselves in video games or binging a new Netflix show. Especially since their last binge had involved watching The OA until 4 in the morning.

Keith leans a bit closer to inspect the miniature wooden skyscraper, granting it a thorough once-over. He reaches for one of the bricks. Lance continues to ponder over the ceiling and comments, “I can’t believe you didn’t like that one. That’s a personal favorite of mine.”

“’Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see,’” Keith repeats in a purposeful monotone. “Really, that’s it? Seems kind of unoriginal to me. Besides, you’ve said that about every single one so far, Lance. Which pickup line is actually your favorite?”

“That’s the fun part. The real mystery. It’s like a guessing game.”

“Guessing which horrendous pickup line you like the most?” The tower wobbles the slightest bit, and Keith slows his movements. “Sounds like a blast.”

“If you must know, the Tennessee line is probably my third favorite. Eh, maybe fourth. And, by the way, I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.” Lance sinks in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re honestly the worst.”

“Says the guy who knows more pickup lines than I thought was humanly possible.”

The Jenga piece just slips free when Lance blurts, “Guess what my shirt is made out of?”

Keith curses under his breath. Thankfully, the structure holds steady, and Keith gently places the block on top. “I don’t know, cotton?”

“Nope, better than cotton.” Lance pauses for dramatic effect. “Boyfriend material.”

Why do I have feelings for this dork again? Keith groans and gestures for Lance to take his turn. “Of course.”

“No? You don’t like that one either?” Lance scrutinizes the current arrangement. His tongue pokes out of his mouth in a gesture that’s way too cute to be fair. “That’s a classic. I thought everyone knew it.”

“I appreciate the fact you think I know anything about pickup lines. I guess? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“I mean, yeah. You’re cute.” Lance withdraws the Jenga brick with a flourish of his hand. “And smart and cool.” He slides it on top alongside Keith’s block. “Even if you are a dick sometimes. Not in a truly dickish way, though, because you’re a good dude. My best dude, other than Hunk. No offense.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I pretty much expected you heard most of these lines already. You have a Tinder! Well, you had a Tinder. Thirsty guys would kill to score a guy like you.”

Warmth settles in the pit of Keith’s stomach. His stupid face is probably red. Dammit, Lance.

“So I guess it is meant to be a compliment,” Keith comments, hoping his tone comes off as nonchalant. What with his burning cheeks and the butterflies flapping around in his stomach. “Thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me for complimenting you,” Lance scoffs. “I’m your boyfriend, dude.”

Keith freezes, fingers poised inches away from the Jenga tower. “Uh…”

“Okay, ‘kind of boyfriend.’” Lance flashes some lackluster air quotes. “But I’m allowed to compliment you now. One could even argue compliments are encouraged. I should be drowning you in them.”

“Oh, good,” Keith drawls. Although he can’t help but think how much he enjoys Lance’s compliments. They’re always completely out of the blue, which gives them a genuine sort of quality Keith isn't used to. It isn’t like Keith goads Lance into showering him with praise either. “I’m ready for the onslaught.”

“No, no, we’re not doing that right now.”

“Oh?” Keith very carefully pinches a Jenga bar between his fingers.

“Yeah, we have more important things to worry about. Like… Oh! I don’t know if you noticed, but I was feeling sorta off today.”

“Really?” Keith subconsciously tilts his chin, trying to gauge the structure’s stability. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry.”

Keith wiggles the block free and heaves a tiny sigh of relief when nothing topples over. “You sure?”

“Definitely. I mean, I’m doing a lot better now.” Keith finds a spot for the brick on top, just as the next words leave Lance’s mouth. “Because you certainly turned me on.”

Keith has to physically restrain himself from bashing his forehead into the table. “Oh my God.”

Lance bounces excitedly in his seat. Somehow, he avoids shaking the whole table. The pivotal Jenga match carries on. “Okay, that was a good one, though! I had you going there for a second. Admit it!”

So what if Keith had been worried?

“It was only a little better than the others,” Keith decides on. “Also, your turn, Mr. Champion.”

“Hey, that title is not to be mocked. It is to be revered… praised…”

“Lance, I’ve told you a million times. It doesn’t count as a nickname if you come up with it for yourself.”

“Oh, it totally does.” The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips once again. Lance squints at the tower, spinning his pointer finger in a circle as he tries to pick. Eventually, he stops, mutters, “aha!” and reaches for a piece. “Is this how you’re going to be about pet names, too, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud?”

Keith’s mouth tugs into a frown. “Stick in the—seriously?’

“Or would you prefer ‘babe’?” Lance makes his move far too quickly. Keith has never seen someone so clumsy transfer a Jenga block so damn smoothly. “Because that one rolls right off the tongue. It kinda suits you.”

Two can play at this game. “Oh no, Lance, we’re not discussing pet names right now.” Keith tips his head to the side and flutters his lashes innocently. “Remember? We’re on pickup lines.”

But then it backfires on Keith. Because of course it does.

“Hah! So you admit that you’re enjoying them,” Lance cries triumphantly. Keith tries to tune out his overzealous reaction and contemplates his next move. “I knew it!”

In a strange sort of fucked up way, Keith supposes he does enjoy them. Sure, he’s received passing compliments in the past from strangers. Lance’s teasing, on the other hand, is a totally different story. Because Keith sees the ridiculous pickup lines for exactly what they are: affectionate.

Maybe Keith is weird, but he enjoys his banter with Lance. The back-and-forth of their arguments, no real malice behind their raised voices and, in Lance's case, flailing arms. No one can get a rise out of Keith quite like Lance can. Effortlessly, without the threat of flying fists or broken noses.

And Lance is the most flirtatious person Keith knows. Before they were even friends, Keith begrudgingly watched Lance hit on classmates. Tossing around exaggerated winks and cringe-worthy compliments like they were going out of style, in the halls and in lecture halls, in the fucking line to buy lunch. When it comes to Keith, though, Lance takes a very… unique approach.

Lance is far more of a gentleman than Keith would have ever pegged him for. Not once has he pushed Keith too far, and physical contact is kept to a minimum. Gentle fingers resting on Keith’s forearm or tucking stray hairs behind his ears. An arm around Keith’s shoulders when they sit on the couch, sometimes a head pillowed on Keith’s shoulder. They have yet to do more than spoon whenever Keith accidentally falls asleep against Lance during a movie, forcing the two to spend the night in the same bed.

Hell, they haven’t even kissed yet.

But the elephant in the room has yet to be addressed. Keith refuses to bring up the subject and turn it into an issue when it legitimately isn’t.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith mumbles. It’s his go-to in situations such as this, when Lance has him at a loss for words. He hopes Lance doesn’t see through the act and instead returns his attention to the game. He finds his next target, shimmying the Jenga block free. The column of little wooden bricks teeters but rights itself.

“So, you kinda remind me of a Wheel of Fortune puzzle,” Lance remarks offhandedly.

Oh no. “And why’s that?”

“Because I wanna hang out with you before and after.”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Really, Lance? I think they’re getting worse.”

“Fine, geez, let me step up my game then.” Lance observes as Keith deposits his piece. “I don’t know why it matters, though, if you don’t even enjoy them.”

“If you’re going to keep this up,  you might as well use decent ones,” Keith explains. And immediately wants to stick his foot in his fucking mouth. Now Lance will never quit. “Or, you know—“

“I’ll hit you with another winner after this round.” Lance flicks his wrist and, in a freakish display of competence, moves one of the pieces. “Okay, get ready.”

“I was born ready.”

“So, important question for you.”

“Oh, please, lay it on me.” Keith withdraws his next Jenga brick and, this time, totally expects the framework to crumple. Strangely, it doesn’t.

“Are you a parking ticket?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Keith.”

“Alright, fine. I don’t know. Why?”

Lance grins, buzzing with smug satisfaction. “Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

Keith almost drops the block. “Fu—Lance!”

“That one must’ve been better. You only get that flustered when they’re good.” Lance leans over the table to take his turn. “Keithy McMullet likes my smooth pickup lines,” he singsongs.

“I—I can’t believe the tower hasn’t fallen over yet,” Keith laughs. He needs to change the topic of this conversation before Lance realizes he actually enjoys his stupid pickup lines, oh God. “Fucking Jenga.”

“Are you an astronaut?”

Keith pauses, Jenga brick held in midair. “Not yet.”

“Well, you’re definitely getting there because“ –Lance aims finger guns in his direction—“that ass is out of this world.”

“Yeah, you already used that one,” Keith scoffs.

A beat of silence.

“Shit! I did?” Lance digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Frantically, he scrolls through what Keith can only imagine are their texts. “What day was— when?”

“Nope, not there.”

“Oh… um.” There are more wiggling hand motions before Lance audibly gasps. “Okay, but it isn’t exactly the same. ‘Is your mom an alien? Because dat ass is out of this world.’”

The way Lance says ‘dat’ is enough to make Keith snicker. Only Lance can get away with saying that word out loud in a totally serious manner. Dat ass. Keith adds it to his mental list of ‘Ridiculous Phrases Lance Uses on a Daily Basis that Somehow Work.’

“See? In that stunning example, I used your mom. Not the fact you were an astronaut,” Lance spells out, like he would be explaining the difference to a five year old. “So obviously they’re separate.”

I’ve never met my mom, Keith almost rebukes. But stops himself before the admission slips out. Not yet.

“Besides, any variation of that gem works. I could use it a million times, a million different ways, and it would still be just as amazing every time.”

“Right…” Keith gestures toward the tower. “It’s you.”

Lance pulls one of the bricks and, for the first time since they’ve started playing, the structure sways. More than it has during any of Keith’s turns and certainly more than it has during Lance’s. For a moment, Keith pictures the entire structure collapsing, bricks piling in Lance’s lap. It’s a strangely gratifying mental image.

But, a second later, it readjusts itself.

“That was a close one,” Lance breathes, wiping invisible sweat from his brow. He places the Jenga brick in its new space. “But you know how it is. Me? I play a mean game of Jenga.”

“I’m pretty sure no one says that,” Keith quips.

“They totally do!” Lance huffs and purses his lips in a pout. “Go for it, Mr. Sore Loser.”

Okay, Keith would rather Lance use sickeningly sweet pet names than these uninspired and, frankly, insulting nicknames.

“Oh, I am. You’ll see.” Keith puffs out his chest, never one to back down from a challenge, and scouts for his target. A piece near the middle seems like a smart choice. “Just watch me.”

“Oh I am, hotshot—“

Hotshot? Really?

“And, while I’m at it, I noticed something weird on the seat of your pants.”

Keith forces himself to ignore Lance’s taunting and reaches for the block. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like you sat in sugar.”

“Ah,” Keith deadpans. Nope, not happening. He won’t lose his focus.

“But that could just be my imagination.”

“Probably.”

“I mean,” Lance starts, and oh no. Keith knows that tone. The drawn out syllables and significant pause, the set of Lance’s jaw and splay of his palms as he props his elbows on the table. “You do have a pretty sweet ass.”

And that’s it.

“What the fu—“ Keith’s arm jolts, and the Jenga brick in his grip jostles any nearby bricks. The entire tower sways to the left, then forward, before starting to topple over right before Keith’s very eyes. He swears the disaster happens in slow motion, block by block, layer by layer.

Looks like he’s the dumbass with a lap full of Jenga bricks.

---

Keith

This is a normal day for Keith and Pidge.

A bag of nacho cheese Dorito’s sits on Keith’s mattress, open and missing half of its contents. A stack of notecards held together with a rubber band, various pictures, and a spool of yarn, strewn across the covers in a semi-organized fashion. The printer on Keith’s desk whirrs softly in the background. He hadn’t bothered to unplug it because he knew they’d be using it again.

Keith steps closer to the bed and snags a thumbtack. Considering the size of the sheet, though, he’ll likely need more. He grabs three more thumbtacks, just in case, and turns back to his work.

The board.

Or ‘the wall of horrors,’ as Shiro sometimes joked. Pictures cover the wall opposite his bed, connected by string and worn notecards littered with Keith’s familiar scrawl. A few were clearly written by Pidge, but, as a permanent fixture in Keith’s room, he did most of the note taking. Underneath lies a full map of the United States. Several places on the map have been marked with red circles, question marks, or stars. To anyone else, it would look like a bunch of gibberish. But Keith and Pidge have been working long enough to make sense of every symbol and handwritten code.

“So, you think the meteor shower from a couple weeks ago is connected to a crash landing?” Keith slides comfortably into the spot at Pidge’s side. She has yet to look away from the board. “I haven’t had a chance to go out to the woods and check but…”

“I’d put my money on it.” Pidge twitches her head in a nod and holds out a hand. Keith rolls his eyes, plopping a Dorito in her palm. He’s rewarded with a quick flash of teeth. “Thanks, partner.”

“Don’t mention it, partner.”

After watching Westworld together, Pidge discovered Keith’s secret love of Westerns. It was one of many closely guarded secrets Keith kept under wraps to avoid jokes— specifically from Lance. But Keith unfortunately hadn’t been able to dismiss Pidge’s accusation.

Of course, she then had to bring up the time he said, “It’s been an honor flying with you boys,” after meeting his untimely demise during a flight simulation game. Shiro and Matt hadn’t been much help in the matter either. Matt laughed so hard, he cried. There were actual tears streaming down his face.

Yeah, just a tad embarrassing.

“If a ship crashed out there, though, we’ll have to take a look soon. Before the government can get their grubby hands on it,” Pidge carries on, watching as Keith hangs the latest picture. A somewhat blurry view of the meteor shower, taken on Keith’s phone, is added to the menagerie of information. “It wouldn’t be the first time they beat us to a crash site.”

Try the fifth fucking time. Not that Keith’s counting or anything.

“Oh yeah,” Keith agrees. “The faster we find it, the better.”

Rover chooses that moment to trot into the room. The pug has belonged to the Holts for a couple years now, all wrinkles and stubby legs. There’s something unspeakably cute about his little black nose and curly tail. Keith often dogsits the adorable pug whenever Matt or Pidge are out. He gets along with Keith’s regrettably picky tabby cat, Red, and never causes trouble around the apartment. He’s also one of few dogs to actually take a liking to Keith. As a matter of fact, the first time Keith watched Rover, the dog didn’t want to go home.

Keith bends over to scratch behind the pug’s ears, delighting in the pleased noise he gets in return.

“You think Lance will wanna come?” Pidge wonders.

“What? On the hunt for a crashed UFO?”

He doesn’t need to burden himself with my bullshit. Not yet. Not this bullshit.

“Uh, yeah, duh. It’s Lance. He may not have the same, uh, level of interest as the two of us. But he’s always down for crazy shit that may or may not get him into trouble. I haven’t invited him in the past because—”

“We didn’t get along.”

Pidge’s brows creep up into her hairline. “Right… but now that you’re at least pseudo-dating, I can bring the both of you without it being awkward as fuck.”

Then, realization dawns on her face.

“Oh no. I hadn’t even considered— please, for the love of all that is good and scientifically efficient, don’t taint my innocent—”

“Innocent? Are you—”

“—eyes with your PDA. I draw the line at handholding and the occasional kiss. Oh, and hugging is fine. With minimal ass grabbing.”

“I don’t think that will be, um. Much of an issue?” Keith can only imagine the color of his cheeks. Rover pads over to his mattress and hops up, nudging the chip bag over to make more space for his tiny, furry body.

“It’s Lance. You honestly expect me to believe that?”

Oh boy. “Yeah, but, you know. Sometimes, when two people are new to dating each other, they don’t. Well.”

Pidge’s facial features morph into something more quizzical. A hand on her hip, nose scrunched in the trademark Holt expression of skepticism. “Yeah?”

“We haven’t exactly”—Keith interrupts himself, wetting his suddenly dry lips— “kissed yet.”

“Wha— really?” Pidge clears her throat. “I mean, uh, really?”

“I know it's weird,” Keith mumbles. His fingers hover over their newest piece of evidence, brushing over blurry streaks of white light. “But the last time I kissed anyone was back in fucking high school.”

“Ah, good ole Nick Splaine. I remember catching you two in the hallway senior year, sucking each other's faces off,” Pidge reminisces, disturbingly wistful.

That's not exactly how Keith remembers it. Nick was conventionally attractive. Dark curls covered his head, jawline sharp enough to cut through steel, and a sturdy torso supported by thick thighs and strong calves. Quarterback for the school's football team, the son of a wealthy family. And deep in the closet.

Older and maybe a bit jaded Keith recognizes the arrangement for what it was. Nick “Denial” Splaine needed an outlet, and Keith's persistent curiosity made him the perfect candidate. He would sneak into the locker room or they would meet in the halls, whenever no one was around. Nick refused to go over to Keith’s house— mostly because he was intimidated by Shiro— so they took advantage of any free time between classes or football practice.

Admittedly, it had been fun. Nick was a decent enough kisser in they eyes of seventeen-year-old Keith. And, on the bright side, Keith learned a valuable lesson from the whole charade: he was infinitely more attracted to guys than girls.

Not that girls weren’t nice. His best friend was a girl, after all. But there was never a spark when he kissed them. So, yeah, he was gay.

Thanks, Nick Splaine.

“I can’t believe you threatened to chop off his dick if he hurt me,” Keith recalls.

“That surprised you? Come on, you know how I felt about douchewad Splaine.” Pidge slides back and snags a notecard from the bed. She retrieves the pen from behind her ear. “Anyway, yeah, I'm a little shocked you and Lance haven't kissed yet. Mostly because Lance is, well, Lance, but he's also a good guy so I know he hasn't yet for your sake.”

“Yeah…” She has a point; Lance may be many things but pushy is certainly not one of them. Not once has he tried to force himself on Keith. “I know. But…”

I think I… maybe… want him to kiss me?

Keith keeps that thought to himself.

Right on cue, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Lance? A surge of nervous anticipation overtakes him, and he silently curses his body for betraying him like this. Keith digs out his phone, zeroing in on the notification bar.

 Lotor: I certainly hope this is the correct number.

 Keith stares at the screen. He stares and stares and, fuck, he can't tear his gaze away. The name sounds vaguely familiar. And then he remembers— the creep from the bowling hall bathroom. What the hell?

Thankfully, Pidge appears too distracted to notice. “Alright, back to the good stuff, lover boy. Based on the trajectory of the ship or, in this case, the biggest meteor in this picture, we should be able to determine where it crashed with a maximum 5 mile margin of error.”

“Yeah, um. That sounds about right.” Keith hesitantly unlocks his phone. Does he even answer? More importantly, how the fuck did Lotor have the time to add his number? And why? “We can figure it out.”

 Keith: how did you get my number?

 Keith has always preferred the straightforward approach. Lotor’s response comes seconds later.

 Lotor: I simply added it to your phone and sent myself a message.

We did not have the opportunity to talk much so I assumed this would be more favorable.

 His grammar and formal speech unnerve Keith, even through text. At Keith’s side, Pidge jots down notes on the ship's flightpath and most likely point of impact. She murmurs to herself and pays no attention to Keith's pinched expression and typing fingers.

 Keith: oh okay

I have a boyfriend

 And isn't that weird to think about? Not in a bad way, of course. There's a pleasant sort of finality in seeing the word written out. Blinking back at him, concrete and very much real. Boyfriend.

 Lotor: I see.

Although I was not trying to proposition you, this is important information to have.

Keith: shit I'm sorry

I just kinda assumed…

Lotor: The thought is certainly enticing but it is quite alright.

May I ask what his name is?

Keith: lance

 Some random guy Keith met once— in the bathroom, no less— doesn't deserve to know Lance's full name. For all Keith knows, the guy could be a serial killer.

Pidge hums loudly, tapping a spot on the map. “I'm sure we could take the Jeep. Matt and Shiro aren't going anywhere anytime— wait, what are you doing?”

Keith immediately locks his phone and crushes it against his chest. “Uh. Texting?”

“Obviously, dude, but who?” Pidge cranes her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Keith's phone screen. “I would say Lance, but I have no idea why you'd hide it from me. His mushiness isn’t anything new to me.”

“Um—”

“Unless! No, it has to be someone else. Someone I don't know…” Pidge flicks the finished notecard at Keith. “Spit it out, Kogane. Who is it?”

There's no sense in lying to Pidge. Besides, she's known Keith longer than she’s known Lance. She'll keep it hush-hush.

“You don't know him…” Keith trails off, and Pidge jabs her elbow roughly into his side. “Hey!”

“What the hell? You just started dating Lance! I love you and whatever but I won't hesitate to kick your ass if you cheat on him.”

“I'm not— You know I wouldn't do that.”

“Not to sound like a dick but you're not one for making new friends. You have to understand why I'd jump to conclusions.”

“But I also never date?”

“Ugh, fine, that's true, too. Still! I'm so confused right now,” Pidge huffs. She shuffles over to the bed and slides the bag of chips over, making herself right at home. Rover slides gracefully into her lap, tail wagging, and gets comfortable. Pidge points a Dorito at Keith before popping it in her mouth. “Explain.”

Keith straightens up, taking a deep breath. “Okay. So. Remember when we were at the bowling alley? When Lance and I…” He swallows. “danced?”

Pidge scoffs. “Of course I remember. Wait… oh. This is gonna be good, I can feel it.” She scoots around and crams her hand into the bag, cellophane crinkling as she pulls out a clump of chips. “What about it?”

“Well, I left my phone behind. Right?” Keith fidgets in place. “In the bathroom?”

“Oh boy,” Pidge replies, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “Yeah.”

“It was in the bathroom and… there was this guy there. He held onto it for me.”

“Okay?”

“And, uh. Yeah.”

Pidge chews, suspicion written into every line creasing her forehead. A stretch of heavy silence passes before her eyes widen, and she smacks a hand over her mouth. Rover lets out an irritated grunt. “No,” she cries through Dorito-stuffed cheeks.

“Yeah.”

“What a creep! Finds a stranger's phone and adds his number? Who does that?”

A thought strikes Keith, and the phone nearly slips out of his grasp. If Lotor added the number before Keith showed up, did that mean he'd been watching him? It was the only way he would've known who the misplaced phone belonged to.

“He was watching me,” Keith whispers, disbelieving. “Pidge, what do I do?”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Pidge deadpans. She leans back, bunching up the covers. Her canine companion curls into an even tighter ball in her lap. “Plain and simple.”

Maybe Lance is rubbing off on Keith. In the past, he would've been blunt without worrying over the consequences. But now—

“Isn't that a little too harsh?”

“Nah,” Pidge answers with a shrug. “You need to drop that as soon as possible. And to answer your next question, because I know it’s coming, I won't tell Lance.”

Keith breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Pidgeon.”

“You get a free pass this time, but you know how I feel about nicknames, especially that one,” Pidge gripes. “Be glad you're you or your ass would be grass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Keith insists through a smirk. “I really do appreciate it, though.”

“You're getting soft on me, McMullet,” Pidge practically purrs, savoring Keith's full-body cringe at the jab. “Now, let's get back to business. We have a UFO to salvage.”

Pidge stands and reclaims her rightful place in front of the board. Rover growls, clearly put out by the change in position, and leaps off the bed. The pug scampers over to Keith and sits, gazing up in wonder at his third favorite human. Meanwhile, Pidge pins her notes to the meteor shower picture and steps back, appraising her work. The red pen finds its way into her grip once more as she sketches little circles in certain places on the map.

Keith looks on silently before glancing down at his phone.

 Lotor: I once was involved with a boy named Lance.

 And another message, sent a couple minutes later.

 Lotor: But I can see you're concerned.

You do not have to worry about any more messages from me.

 Keith’s skin prickles as he reads. He abruptly locks his phone without dignifying Lotor’s last text with a response.

—

Lance

Another week, another party.

But this one is different. Special in Lance's mind, at least, because this is the first party they've thrown since he and Keith started dating. Which means it'll be the best party to date. Food? Check. Drinks? Check. Keith? Definitely check.

“There's a lot of people here tonight,” Keith says, raising his voice to be heard over the music. Lance's playlist currently blares through the speakers in the living room, and everyone in the nearby area sways and bounces to the beat. “What's the occasion?”

“Us,” Lance replies proudly.

“Lance—”

“Kidding, kidding.” Lance grins. Everything has been going smoothly, and he can't help but feed off the positive energy swirling around them. “But, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I am lowkey using this as an excuse to celebrate you saying yes.”

“To dating-not-dating?” Keith mirrors the satisfied curl of Lance's lips.

“You know it,” Lance laughs. With this many guests, it's easy to excuse their close proximity. That and the fact they're exclusive now. Barely a foot stands between them. “To being boyfriends-not-boyfriends.”

“You're such a dork.”

“Says you, Mr. President’s List.”

“Okay, we really do need to have a talk about nicknames,” Keith grumbles. But Lance doesn't miss the step he takes closer. “And, for your information, I haven't made the President’s List since freshman year.”

“Well! My point still stands. You're a dork, through and through.” Lance cocks his head, appreciating the flush coloring Keith's cheeks. Partly from the beer and partly from their closeness. “Not that it's a bad thing. And you're my dork.”

“I take it back,” Keith whispers. His voice is husky, darker, heavy with the promise of things to come. Of course, what those things are, Lance has yet to figure out. But he's definitely intrigued. “You're more of a sap than a dork.”

“Aren't they interchangeable?”

“For you, yes.”

“Why am I attracted to you again?” Lance hums softly under his breath. What he wouldn't give to smooth his fingers over Keith's cheekbones, to feel the warmth of his skin. It takes him a moment, in his tipsy state, to realize he actually can now. “Oh, right. Because you're Keith.”

The statement seems to stun Keith into silence. There's a glaze over his eyes from the alcohol, but the blue-voilet of his irises glitter under the low lighting. Beautiful.

“Wh— What does that mean?” Keith eventually asks. His chin juts upward, just enough to bring both of their mouths level. The faint odor of beer lingers on his breath. “Because... I'm Keith?”

“You know… you're smart and tough and stubborn and… you put up with me all the time and... and you love pineapple and planes and aliens and Oscar Isaac and… you're really. Really good.” The words spill out of Lance in a flood. “I like all of that about you. I like that you're Keith.”

Keith inhales sharply, and Lance feels it against his lips. The air steadily grows thicker around them until Lance gives in, slipping an arm around Keith's waist, pulling them completely flush. Like at the bowling alley, he savors the contact. Keith is a solid weight against him, muscle and soft skin, hot to the touch. His face flushes even redder. Lance's other hand aches to brush along the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the swell of his bottom lip and the sensitive spots behind his ears. His fingertips yearn to smooth out the barely there wrinkles that line Keith's forehead as his brow furrows, quietly contemplating Lance.

They make eye contact for an instant before Keith steals a glance at Lance's lips. His stare is unwavering and raises goosebumps along Lance's arms. Pink darts out from between Keith's lips, tongue lazily dragging across chapped skin.

How long has Lance wanted this? The effortless intimacy and insatiable yearning, the tugging in his chest from a single moment of charged eye contact alone. Is this normally what it feels like before kissing someone you… oh no.

Lance feels like he might explode. “Keith—”

“Spin the bottle!”

The sudden cry startles them both apart. Keith looks like someone poured ice water over his head, expression open with shock. Lance imagines he doesn't look much better. He turns his attention to find the source of the voice: Nyma.

She proudly holds an empty beer bottle up for everyone to see. Rolo slings an arm around her shoulders and laughs, sweeping his arm around the room. “Let’s get it going!” he echoes.

Lance watches in stupefied silence, brain still trying to reboot after his (maybe) moment with Keith, and swallows nervously at the sight of people claiming their seats on the floor. Rolo and Nyma plop down, bottle in her grasp, and encourage everyone to huddle closer for the game. It comes as only a little bit of a surprise when Pidge lowers herself to the floor, legs crossed, and beckons Keith and Lance over.

“C’mon,” she slurs, fingers fluttering in a ‘come hither’ gesture. “Aren’t you two gonna get in on this action?”

Hunk snorts, and Lance turns, met with his friend’s disgruntled face. “I’ll sit this one out.” Shay appears to agree with him. “Have fun, though.”

Lance hesitantly looks at Keith, searching for an answer in the arch of his brows. Constipated, that’s the only way Lance can think to describe the set of his mouth and narrowed eyes. He stifles a laugh and grabs for Keith’s wrist, lightly squeezing. The pressure jolts Keith and, in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty, he levels Lance with a questioning stare. ‘Should we?’ it asks. And maybe he’ll regret it later, but inebriated Lance thinks it’s a brilliant idea.

Drunk Lance lives for spin the bottle. Seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare— you name it. He loves them all.

“Why not?” Lance settles on.

The hint of a smirk plays at Keith’s lips. He nods and gladly follows Lance's lead, moving to join the others in their makeshift circle. The two of them take the spot between Rolo and Pidge. Unfortunately, Lance finds himself stuck next to Rolo. He’ll take it, though, if it means keeping the occasionally belligerent party guest away from Keith.

“Lance should go first,” Pidge snickers, glasses askew.  One sleeve of her tank top falls, but she doesn’t bother to fix it.

“Why me?” Lance whines.

“I don’t know. Just ‘cause.” Pidge shrugs and, as if just noticing the state of her shirt, glares at the dropped sleeve. “As long as I don’t have to kiss you. Bleh.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that kissing these lips is an honor.” The bottle is shoved unceremoniously into his lap, and Lance gapes at Rolo. The dude has the nerve to wink as he hands it over. “But, yeah, that’d be real fuckin’ weird. The old rules are still in place. You and I can’t kiss and” --Lance bumps his shoulder fondly into Keith’s—”and neither can you and Keith.”

“No complaints here,” Pidge replies all too quickly. “I figured that was a given.”

Lance practically jumps out of his skin at the feeling of Keith’s lips, pressed to his neck, pulse fluttering wildly at the sensation. “I’m glad you said something,” Keith whispers but it comes out as more of a sultry purr than anything else. “There’s only one person in this circle that I wanna kiss.”

He’s going to be the death of me. Lance mulls over the statement and corrects, Drunk Keith is almost definitely going to be the death of me.  

“Oh yeah?” Lance prompts, full well knowing the answer he’ll get.

“Mhmm,” Keith mumbles and, shit, it feels like a kiss along the column of his throat. “No one else.”

“Well, if you want—”

“What did I say about PDA?” Pidge bemoans. “Let’s get this game going, love birds.”

A flush, unrelated to the alcohol flowing through his veins, creeps up Lance’s neck. He decides to humor her and sets the bottle on the ground, spinning it with a flick of his wrist. Brown glass, spinning, before finally coming to rest on… damn. It’s a new girl, someone Lance doesn’t recognize.

“Well, alright,” Lance chuckles awkwardly and shifts onto his knees. The girl in question grins back but, seconds later, pales. Confused, Lance inspects the group and— wow. If looks could kill, Keith would have easily struck Lance’s partner dead in an instant. “It’s just a kiss, Keithy. Don’t worry,” he murmurs hurriedly under his breath.

His kissing partner edges closer, eyes darting anxiously between Keith and Lance, and stops with their mouths a hair’s breadth away. Slowly, she moves in for a kiss. Lance foregoes any sort of finesse and simply sits still. He swears the girl mumbles a brisk, “sorry,” into the press of their lips. It’s a chaste kiss, if it can even be called a kiss, and she pulls away a moment after it begins.  

Now, Lance has played these games for years. As a bit of a partier in high school, more so in college, Lance has kissed several strangers. They’ve been nothing more than fleeting kisses for silly party games but, every now and then, there have been ones that sent a spark of excitement through Lance.

This kiss, however, isn’t anything close. Not Keith. You want to kiss Keith. It’ll be your first kiss. With Keith. Kissing Keith. Keith, Keith, Keith.

Lance tells his brain to kindly fuck off for now because they’re in the middle of a game where he’ll likely have to kiss people other than Keith. But the barrage of thoughts refuse to stop. It’s about to be a long, grueling game of spin the bottle for Lance.

The girl— Amy, maybe?— wastes no time returning to her original spot in the circle. The other girls around her giggle and playfully slap her on the back. “His boyfriend’s got claws,” one of them stage whispers. Or at least that’s what it sounds like to Lance.

Several rounds pass. Pidge kisses one of the Amy’s friends, a tall brunette with striking green eyes behind wide-rimmed glasses. After a few long minutes, Pidge leans back and smirks like the goddamned cat that caught the canary. She’s the real master of this game.

Rolo kisses a few different guys and girls. Nyma kisses Pidge, but it’s brief. Hardly notable in the scheme of things. And, by some miracle, Keith hasn’t kissed a single person by the time the bottle falls into his hands.

“Oh,” Rolo coos, “Who will be Kogane’s first kiss of the night?”

Me, Lance nearly blurts.

“Maybe it’ll be me,” Nyma teases. She flips a braided ponytail over her shoulder, observing Keith from beneath hooded eyelids, painted gold. “I’ll show him a good time.”

A few other people take their own guesses, but Keith blatantly ignores them. He stares down the neck of the bottle, fingers gliding over the label. Lance tracks the movement, the rounded knobs of his knuckles, as Keith sets the bottle down and spins.

There’s no way it’ll land on Lance.

Turning, turning.

He’s hardly ever that lucky.

Turning, turning.

Nyma is probably right. Or maybe it’ll be Rolo?

Turning, turning…

And it gradually comes to a stop.

The mouth of the bottle rests in front of—

“Oh,” Lance gasps. Because there’s no mistaking the direction the bottle is pointing.

“Um,” Keith says, echoing Lance’s sentiment. “Well.”

It’s Lance. Keith is supposed to kiss Lance.

Keith’s hands are sure when they reach for Lance. He doesn’t hesitate or stall. Confidence steadies his fingers as he cradles Lance’s face in his palms. Nails lightly scrape over his cheeks, eliciting a tiny noise that Lance doesn’t have the brainpower left to be embarrassed over.

“Easy peasy,” Lance chuckles because, hell, he can’t think of anything better to say.

“Easy peasy,” Keith mimics, voice gone hoarse. “Easy… peasy…”

Their lips are practically touching already. Keith cleary has no problem with sharing this intimate moment with relative strangers. Of course, if he’s anything like Lance, he’s been dying to do this for weeks and refuses to wait even a second longer.

Keith licks his lips and, in the process, his tongue brushes over Lance’s own slightly parted lips.

Oh my God. Lance sneaks his arms around Keith, coaxing him into his embrace. This is really happening.

“So this is where everyone ran off to!”

Both Keith and Lance immediately freeze.

No.

No, no.

No, no, fucking no.

Lance reluctantly pulls back, slowly angling his head to pinpoint that horribly familiar voice. Cloying, deadly sweet, like the crisp flesh of the evil queen’s apple from Snow White. Each word dances through the air like the note of a song, and Lance wants to scream.

Him. Oh yeah, it’s him alright.

White strands of hair, practically silver in the light, frame the sharp lines of his face. Thin lips stretch to reveal two rows of glistening white teeth, irises a dizzying blend of yellows and oranges. He wears a black turtleneck shirt, long legs accentuated by the faded blue of his jeans. Svelte, sleek— the son of a bitch has always had that sort of presence about him.

Lance hardly trusts himself to speak, but he’ll be damned if he sits here quietly. “What… the fuck are you doing here?”

Lotor blinks at him, pressing a hand to his chest, spindly fingers like the legs of a spider. “Me?”

“Lotor?”

Lance is surprised his neck doesn’t snap as he rounds on Keith. “You know him?”

“Uh…” Keith’s body is visibly taut with fear. “He’s the guy who… found my phone the other night at the bowling alley.”

Red creeps into Lance’s vision. His breath catches in his throat, lungs fighting to keep him from hyperventilating. This is impossible. Lance attempts to climb to his feet and wobbles with each jerky motion. He shouldn’t be here. I told him to never come back.

“What did he say? He didn’t do anything to you, right? Like touch you?” Lance hardly recognizes his own voice. Desperation pulls his gaze to Keith, staring back from his place on the floor.

“No, no, he just…” Keith averts his gaze. “He just gave me back my phone.”

Lance wants to believe him. This is Keith, someone who means the fucking world to him. But Lotor… Lance knows how this asshole operates.

“Get out,” Lance whispers. He can’t even tell who he’s addressing at this point. But everyone needs to be gone, needs to get the fuck out of his apartment.

Lotor tips his head to the side. A silvery strand of hair frees itself from behind his ear. “Now, Lance—”

“I said get out!” Lance’s hands clench into fists at his side. Red, red, the room is bathed in red. “Everyone just— Get. Out.”

Someone has the decency to turn the music off. The partygoers on the floor clamber to their feet and make a beeline for the door. Each of them is careful not to jostle Lance as they pass, providing him a wide berth.

Lance glimpses Keith and Pidge who have yet to budge. Pity flickers in their gazes, lips pursed, wearing identical expressions of concern. Once everyone else clears out of the room, Lance picks up Hunk’s unmistakable footfalls approaching from the kitchen.

And, of all the people to stay, Lotor.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Lance hisses. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“I certainly did. But I do believe that you and I—”

“No, if you heard me, you’d be gone already.”

“Lance, please, you and Keith—”

That’s the final straw.

“Get out!” Something primal rips the words from Lance’s throat.

He can feel his body shaking, from the peaks of his shoulders to the tips of his damn toes. A shot of pain courses up his arm as the sharp edge of a fingernail digs into his palm. But his hands remained clenched tight.

Thankfully, Lotor obeys. His gaze flicks to Keith, fast enough that Lance nearly misses it, and then he’s heading for the door like the rest of the guests. He slips quietly out of the apartment without causing further trouble.

Lance glares holes into the door, hoping he can somehow burn Lotor to a crisp through the power of intent alone. He doesn’t have to look to know three sets of eyes are fixated on him. The strongest of them focuses on the back of his skull, frightened and confused.

“I’m sorry,” Lance croaks without turning around. He simply can’t. “I’m sorry.”

No one else has the courage to speak and break the tension.

“I’m so sorry.”

[spirify]

Artificial Flower― CH. 1

Chapter 1  ― by. Rielin | Add x Eve

“Behind the flashiness of an eternal flower petal, there’s a liar who has never bloomed nor withered.” -Eddy Kim.

BGM | GOT7 Never Ever Piano Cover - Smyang Piano

Effortlessly, she rested her lifeless body on the couch as she stared off into nothing but space. Her fragile limbs were barely moving as her lips were slightly gaped, claiming that she was breathing and is alive. She hadn’t eaten anything for hours and she couldn’t even remember the last time she walked outside the front door.

Just at that moment, she heard light footsteps tapping on marble floors from the other side of the door.

What time is it…

Rustling noise of keys and chains tangling with each other haunted into her mind.

Is he here already…

The sounds combined with one another once again, reminded her of a nightmare within reality. Then click― the door opened.

“Eve!”

A husky voice which was rather filled with joy echoed into the vast mansion as he walked closer to the living room. Before her eyes was a silver haired male, rather tall and dressed neatly in a suit. Within his right hand, he was gripping onto a rather expensive box of chocolate as he handed to her.

“I know you like chocolates, so I decided to buy them,”

He smiled brightly like a little kid as he sat down in front of the female. Her soulless eyes slowly transitioned to the male sitting before her. His amethyst eyes  which shined under the bright chandelier sickened her heart, yet she could not gaze away from them.

“Oh― did you eat the dinner I made… oh you didn’t,”

As if he suddenly realized something important, he stood up and with startled eyes, he glanced toward the tabletop placed right in front of the sofa. He glanced down, and came to another realization that hasn’t even lifted up the spoon to eat the dinner he had prepared for her.  He let out a silent sigh, yet the female quickly caught onto his stressful mind.

“You need to eat, Eve…”

His speech drifted apart as he grabbed the dinner box he had prepared just for her. He slowly walked over to the kitchen and threw the box filled with cold food away into the trash can. With another sigh, he glanced toward the female yet her eyes have already averted away into the space once again. As the male walked over to her, Eve’s shoulders jerked slightly, alarmed by his quick movements.

“At least eat these…”

He whispered underneath his breath as he sat down in front of her once again. He teared up the box of chocolates rather roughly, throwing the wrappers into the ground with hint of anger raging within his amethyst eyes. Yet, his movements were soft and careful as he held onto the chocolate, slowly moving it toward her rosey colored lips. The scent of sweet chocolate drifted into her nose, yet she had no effort to consume the rich vibrance. However, she knew for a fact that if she does not gape her lips within this moment, the tender eyes of his may transition in all of a sudden. As sickening as it was, she slowly opened her lips and the fancily decorated chocolate entered her mouth as the sensation of sweet aroma spreaded inside. The sweet quickly dissolved on top of her tongue, the fragrance of the sugar lingering within her lips.

Add watched the female as she slowly chewed onto sweet he had given her; his eyes were glistening with hint of triumph and joy by the fact that she had accepted his offer. His eyes curved into a shape of moon as he smiled at the sight of the female. His eyes slowly sank into her physical appearance which seemed to radiate off natural beauty. Her skin was snow white, which was complimented by her naturally soft, red lips. His gaze remained permanently locked into her lips as she softly chewed.

She could feel the sensation of heat rising to her cheeks as she could feel his gaze locked into the sight of her face. She quickly averted her eyes away from the male, however that seemed to ignite the hidden ambition of his. As she finished swallowing the chocolate, he slowly gaped his lips and whispered,

“Can I kiss you,”

With startled golden eyes, she quickly turned to face the male, but at that exact moment, his eyes curved into the shape of a crescent moon with satisfaction, and slowly he leaned forward― embracing her soft lips with his.

“Mhm..”

She let out a quiet moan with discomfort as she slightly backed away, however that only seemed excite the male as he slowly reached for the nape of her neck. And with gentle yet somewhat forceful touch, he pressed the back of her neck closer to his lips, however she could only wince away this sickening situation as she slumped her shoulders down.

‘Eid’ wasn’t like this before. Before his  mysterious ‘accident’, he was indeed, extremely sweet. The ‘Eid’ she had once known is nowhere to be found, and in front of her was someone entirely new that shared exactly the same physical features as Eid. She would often wonder to herself, who is he?  Yet the only answer that would echo back into her is his voice saying, ‘I am Eid’. Perhaps the accident caused a personality changed within him, or that he was afraid to lose her again, she would answer her own question. However that seemed to be an incorrect answer. The feeling she felt towards the new Eid was not love, it was sympathy. She was his entire life before and even after the accident. The only person that defined his life was Eve, herself. She would feel guilt if she left the lonely male by himself. Therefore, she promised her ownself and Eid, that she would never leave his side.

  The sound of clock ticking echoed throughout the vacant room. Her long strands of eyelashes fluttered gracefully, slowly revealing a beautiful hint of gold eyes that were hidden under her skin. She glanced about, and realized that she was in her large room that consisted of nothing but one, lonely bed. She softly raised herself up and walked out of the room. She trailed down a long, luxurious hallway, which unveiled a tremendous living room. Three sides of the walls were painted with clean, pure white, while the other wall exhibited a large glass window that displayed an awe―striking view of downtown of the city. She glanced down the window, the view from the fifty third floor of a luxurious condo was indeed, gorgeous. If only she could just walk out of this trapped building and experience the life of the downtown instead. She turned her back toward the city view and glanced around the vast living room. The room itself was neatly decorated, but lacked furniture that gave off a cozy feeling. Then her gaze was locked into the red and white wrappings lazily spread around the floor. After ripping off the chocolate box wrappers, Add didn’t even bother to pick the leftover trash from the ground. As Eve picked up the wrapper he had left behind, she glanced over to the wall clock hanging above. The hands of the clock were pointing 9:40 AM. She guessed that he must’ve left the apartment around 8:30, since his work starts at 9:00. Eve tilted her head as she locked her vision within the clock, thinking about the average time he comes back home.

“...7.. PM?”

She whispered to herself with caution. She concluded that it’s way more than enough time to leave the apartment and enjoy the freedom outside, as long as she stays hidden from Add’s views. He would not leave the company in middle of working unless it’s lunch time… which would be around noon. After brainstorming her plans for today, Eve finally concluded that she would leave the apartment around 1PM and come back during the evening. It was the perfect amount of time to do whatever she wanted to do outside from this trap. Although she have constantly thought about leaving the apartment without Add noticing, she never had the courage to do so; she knew for a fact that Add would become furious and insane, that she left the house by herself, all without his permission. However, after realizing that he wasn’t even home by the time she woke up somehow gave her the ambition to step outside of the front door for once. She was extremely sick of staying indoors, being trapped within a tremendous apartment that caused a lonely sensation due to vacantness.

As long as I’m home before him…

She constantly thought the plan over and over again, whether to actually step outside. However, the thought of always being chained up inside made her ambition to go outside stronger and stronger.

It’s only today…

Every minute she would glance up to see the clock, until it reaches 1PM.

The door smoothly attached itself to the wall behind her and automatically locked with a bell sound, which startled the innocent female. After realizing that nothing was happening, she decided to step into the elevator and press the button displaying ‘1’.

“Today is the day…”

“Today is the only day, Eve… don’t do this again,”

The female constantly murmured to herself as the red numbers displaying on top of the door decreased in number. After continuous waiting the clock hands have finally reached the time she was constantly waiting for. The female cautiously walked over to the table top and grabbed her wallet and her keys― which have not been touched for awhile. She slowly opened the front door, however her fingers quickly slipped due to her sweaty palms. She breathed in heavily and as if she have made a decision, she turned the handle open and stepped out of her nightmare.

 5:23 PM.

Was the time displaying on the lock screen of his phone. With a smile that seems to radiate off a warmful sensation, Add placed his phone into his pocket and walked out of the large glass door that opened automatically. During the entire time he worked on multiple documents and requests from other companies, the CEO’s mind was filled with no one but Eve. As the thought of meeting his beloved one after his work, he decided to finish his loads of paperwork with a fast pace in order to see her earlier. The male drove back to his condo with excitement―

only to be surprised by the fact that she wasn’t there.

He glanced at his locked screen once again, which was displaying 5:41 PM. He drove above the speed limit in order to see her earlier, yet she wasn’t here. His pupils within his amethyst eyes started to shake with fear and his palms started to sweat with nervousness.

Where is she…

Rage started to build up within the male although he tried to remain calm. With rather violent actions, he brushed his silver bangs with his fingers as he speed dialed her with his phone. However, he could not remain calm; he heard her phone ringtone from afar, possibly from her room as he realized that she didn’t even bother to take her phone with her, wherever she went. He kicked the door open which led to her room and walked over to her phone, the screen displaying ‘Eid’ without any picture. Just ‘[Eid]’

 Was she like this to him…

He thought to himself,

Probably not.

After answering his own question, Add suddenly felt extreme jealousy over his own, dead brother. With anger being piled upon one another, the furious male threw her phone to the ground and with force, he slammed the door behind him and walked outside.

5:52 PM.

He shouldn’t be here yet. He usually comes home a little after 7.

She thought to herself as he unlocked the door and walked in. With careful, silent steps she walked inside. As she heard no sound coming from any of the rooms, she sighed with relief. Then her phone came to her view. She quickly walked over and flipped the phone around, realizing that her screen has shattered. Suddenly, she felt a cold sweat rolling down her spine as her eyes started to shake with fear.

He was here…

Should I stay… should I find another place to stay…?

She constantly thought to herself as she walked over to her room, biting her fingernails with nervousness. Then at that moment, the sound of the door unlocking echoed into her ears. His footsteps were becoming louder and louder as it came closer, she could feel the rage within these sounds. Then at that moment,

her door slammed open.

His bangs were wet as beads of sweat rolled down his face, his amethyst eyes were silently screaming with anger, his veins were extremely noticeable as he was catching his breath. His clean suit was all ruffled and his silver locks were brushed rather roughly in the wrong direction.

“Where were you,”

note:

name change [iReii] -> [Rielin]. sorry for the long hiatus! i’ve been lack of ideas and just couldn’t write any story, until this plot popped into my mind! add is bit of a psycho here.. so please be aware lol.

information:

this story may be confusing so i thought i should explain. Add has an older twin brother by the name of Eid, who have died of car accident. Eid was Eve's boyfriend, who was way nicer than Add. The two brothers look and sound exactly the same. The one currently is Add, who has tricked everyone saying he is Eid. Now everyone thinks that Eid didn't die, but just woke up from a year long coma. Once again, Eid is dead. Add is faking himself as he lives as 'Eid'.

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