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starlit-dreaming · 2 months

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[prologue] re: All in the Past

Fandom: Persona (3 & 4) Rating: M Major/Eventual Ships: Akihamu Minor Ships: Jundori, Minayuka AU: Twin Protags + Somebody Lives/Not Everybody Dies + Post-Canon AU Note: Cross-posted on AO3 under the same title.

Summary:

Kotone Shiomi might be an idiot. No, actually, she is undoubtedly an idiot, because no one in the right mind would choose to stick around in the same city that took her loved ones away, a place that had nothing for her. She knew that her parents loved this wretched place, that they often swung by to play concerts when they were alive. Her brother had loved this terrible place, enough to want to finish his schooling, enough to actually consider opening up that bakery she always joked about. Her brother made friends here, he even had a girlfriend (which, gross, someone actually thought her gloomy brother was attractive), and he was finally opening up his heart to people. On their phone calls, he had even asked Kotone questions of her life! Questions that he’s never bothered to ask before! And then he died. He died, leaving everything behind — money, his cosplay crap, the letters she sent him over the years, and… He left her a goodbye letter. //In which the aftermath of Minato's death affected those outside of SEES.

A/N:

I wrote a fanfic around 2014 on FFN under my first fanfic writing account (and I want no reminders of its existence, but if it gets found, just know I will scream and cry if you do find it). It was intended to be a one-shot, although it was very open-ended and I didn’t really want to think too deeply on it. Originally, this was meant to hype me up for P3: Reload, but I haven’t touched it yet because I’m still mourning over the fact that there’s no Female Protag. Hamuko is a nickname; Kotone Shiomi will be used as her full name! Also, I’ll be including Japanese suffixes to better portray relationships. Fun fact: The University is named “Hankyō” (反響) which means “echo” and “reverberation”, which I found to be poetic, because Hamuko’s following after the traces of her brother’s memory in order to solve the mystery of his death. @hwang-lucas because I'm posting this fic for you instead of letting it collect dust in my google docs LMAO

Chapters: [prologue] 1 | 2 | 3

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0. prologue

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Beginning of March, 2011

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This will be the third time in her life that she visits the Iwatodai Graveyard, and she wishes that it never went beyond the first visit.

But that’s the thing about life.

Like it or not, you don’t always get what you want.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” she politely bowed at the handsome silver-haired young man.

“No problem, Shiomi-san,” Akihiko Sanada gave her a sympathetic smile as he hands over the bucket of water — for cleaning the graves, she idly reminds herself as her eyes linger on his muscles for just a second too long. “Will you be okay from here?”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Yeah, no worries,” she replied, smiling at the stranger despite the clenching of her fists. It was very hard not to grab his shoulders and shake him for answers about her brother, but she knew better than to do that.

Easy. Just take it easy. They don’t know you, and he might not be one of them.

It was, predictably, harder to watch him walk away without any answers to any question of hers.

When she first arrived in the area, she got lost — plain and simple, and flat out embarrassing. Her phone was dead, and she couldn’t contact anyone who might know something — not that she knew anyone in Iwatodai, much less Tatsumi Port Island, to begin with. Maybe Mitsuru Kirijo, the person who helped fund her brother’s funeral and arranged everything, but she’s not sure if that’s how she wants to get back into contact with her brother’s friend…

Anyway, that was how she became acquainted with Akihiko Sanada — she wound up finding the police station and asked for directions to the graveyard. The officer at the desk was a rather intimidating fellow, and maybe it was obvious that she was gradually getting more and more confused at the older man’s instructions as he mentioned the names of streets and buildings, that Akihiko Sanada, a handsome young man who had been in the room, had politely offered to show her the way.

Which, she supposes, has been the only good thing about the day for her.

Talking to Akihiko was easy, and maybe that was because he was easy on the eyes. As she glanced at their surroundings throughout the journey to the graveyard, he made it easy to feel as if she hadn’t been an outsider looking in. He made recommendations to some of the food places, she asked about things like the bookstores and cafés. Eventually, they touched on the topic of why she was visiting the graveyard, and he sympathized with her by mentioning his younger sister after she spoke of her brother.

His name sounded familiar enough, so chances are, Akihiko had been one of her brother’s friends. There was a brief mention of an Akihiko-senpai, and she had suspicions that they were one in the same. She would need to revisit the letters her brother sent her as well as the emails to be sure. Detective Shirogane was arriving next week, so the sooner she figures it all out, the better.

Still, it was clear that Akihiko managed to walk forward with his grief, even if it still hurts.

She wondered, then, that if it was her who left this world, would her brother mourn for her in the same way as Akihiko had done for his sister? Would he miss her, often, but still find the strength within him to still push forward?

Or would he be standing here, alone in a world that feels strange? Alone, and unwilling to let sleeping demons be, to touch upon matters that were best left behind as everyone had advised? The past is in the past, but would he let himself feel angry at the world? Would he get frustrated when things feel hopeless, despair when it starts to feel pointless? Would he deal with detective after detective, the constant confirmations that he’s in over his head, and that the only logical explanation ought to be drugs and a friend wanting to protect their reputation?

Oh, but she knows. She knows her brother better than anyone else in the world prior to his death. And, maybe, the only thing she never knew was the him before he died. He would wear his apathy to mask the painful aches, if he ever allowed himself to feel in those fleeting moments.

But, unlike her, Minato had friends that he could trust. Friends he could count on.

Her brother was strong, both physically and mentally.

And, more importantly, he isn’t her.

He’s not Kotone.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She won’t break down like this. She hasn’t cried in years, and she’s not gonna start now, when she knows absolutely nothing about the man her brother became. Oh, she certainly raged at his death, cursing the world for all that it’s taken from her, but she had yet to shed honest tears over his death.

And instead, she smiles. Smiles were a good thing. Smiles made people feel safe and reassured. Smiles made her likeable. Smiles hadn’t failed her, even when she’s alone and tired and sick of it all—

Eventually, she manages to find her brother’s grave, settled beside her parent’s gravestone. Her parents eloped and ran away from their respective families after marrying, but only her father was disowned by his family. The Shiomi Family was matriarchal, and because Kotone was the only girl born in her generation and was therefore the heiress — at least, until one of her cousins were born and Kotone was more than happy to pass on the hat, so to speak — she was accepted into the family with open arms after her parents died, even if they criticized her mother often.

So, it was a bit surprising to know that her parents didn’t have their gravestone in the Shiomi Family Graveyard. For Minato, it was probably thanks to his friend who likely argued in his favor. Did he ever talk to her about their maternal family? Or did he just leave the thought alone?

Vaguely, she recalls a blurry memory of her crouched down in front of their parent’s grave. She was just a little kid sobbing, her brother hugging her, traumatized and different because the adults said so, saying that he had been awake when the accident occurred.

(She woke up in the remnants of the accident, after their parents had passed, with her brother shaking her and trembling all the while, with an expressionless look on his face and tears falling down. In the midst of burning flames and blooming pain that looked almost like an ominous green, she was traumatized in a different way.

But that is neither here nor there.)

Kotone shakes her head, settling down and opening her yellow backpack for the cleaning rags and got to work cleaning her parent’s grave. Her brother’s grave was much cleaner and well-cared for, likely visited by his friends more than her parent’s have ever been. But, his stone sits beside them, like his cremated ashes placed beside their parents in her room.

Seeing his name engraved in the stone was a very jarring thing. It’s a strange sight, one that she never expected to see before she’s even considered a young adult. Like her brother, her name will also be carved in this place when she passes, and she hopes her family honors that request.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Kotone rinses out the cleaning rag and places the flowers for her parents.

Seventeen.

Minato died when they were both only seventeen.

And now here she was, eighteen and in a world without him.

Living in the same city where their parents died, the same city that traumatized him and left them both orphans. The same city that she recently moved to, just to cling onto the could-haves and should’ve-beens.

Eighteen and alone, when they promised to move in together so she can finally escape the Shiomi Family and he can finally live without them threatening to hold their parent’s inheritance against him.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

When she attended his funeral, her family — her mother’s side of the family, because father was disowned after he eloped with mother and adopted his own mother’s maiden name — was solemn and quiet, but all of them only showed up for appearances. Most inquired about possessions, and only some of them realized that she was still there. Everything went to her, except for certain boxes that he himself had set aside and noted for who it would go to. He drafted his own will, apparently, and left it with the same lawyer their parents used who looked at her with sympathy and pity.

All of his belongings had been neatly tucked and packaged away, as if to make it all easier.

Her brother had told her that his time was coming to a close, that he was tired. She thought he was joking when she first read that email, with him talking about graduation for his senpais. She thought that with how animated his letters and emails became after befriending his friends, that he was finally coming out of his shell. Maybe he had a flair for dramatics, something she never knew, and wouldn’t that have been nice to have in common with her brother?

She thought wrong, when she received that dreadful phone call from a stranger whose name she’s only known through her brother’s letters and emails.

It sickened her, really. She had months worth of letters and emails from him, and as his letters stopped, descending into short phone calls and even shorter emails, she thought nothing of it. He sounded tired, and she could only assume that he hadn’t been sleeping well again.

Final exams often did that to people. So what? He missed a few phone calls, and he sent her apology texts whenever he missed five. Whatever. He’s a busy guy.

How naïve of her. Did she really think it was normal?

She thought it was strange, maybe even suspicious at times. His first week there was odd when he emailed her about it, no matter how much the detectives justified it as delusions or just pure exhaustion. He even claimed it, but it still stood out to her.

Because apparently he was so exhausted and thought the city turned into some sort of deranged graveyard in greens, with blood oozing in places and the moon yellow. She even thought it was a dream of his, since he mentioned dozing off on the train at some point, and that maybe it’d be a great premise for a suspenseful horror story he wanted to write. At some point he mentioned his dorm mate-turned-friend-turned-girlfriend, Yukari Takeba, had pointed a gun at him. Granted, she supposes that having a gun was probably for the best safety-wise since only two girls and a guy lived at the dorms until her brother came along, as well as the others.

She wonders if this Yukari girl had known about her brother’s condition. Apparently, from what was told, the doctors claimed that her brother passed away in his sleep. How that was possible at such a young age, she hadn’t the slightest idea.

It was like one day, he was spirited away.

At one point in all their correspondence, he mentioned that his friend asked him to kill him, and that he felt horrified at the idea of it. She doesn’t blame him, but since she couldn’t even find a Facebook profile of this Ryoji guy, she wonders if her brother was… if he was talking about himself, rather than an actual friend. She hopes not — God, she really hopes not. How much was her brother struggling? Did he actually rely on his friends, or did he only tell her that so she’d feel at ease?

She… was too distraught at the funeral to take notice of them. His friends did show up, at least, she thinks they did, but they mostly didn’t approach her, and she kept to herself. A young woman, Mitsuru, had expressed her condolences to her directly, saying that she was her brother’s friend, and offered her phone number if she ever needed it.

But Kotone never called her. The number was saved on her phone, but… she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Her nails were digging into her skin painfully, and the pain quickly washes away when she immediately releases her clenched fists upon realizing this fact. She’s been staring at the bouquet of flowers resting before her brother’s gravestone — pinks and blues, seeming almost symbolic of something.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Vision is shaking, but that’s normal.

Right. She can think this over and over again a million times, and she will, but now she’s here visiting her brother’s… grave. What should she even say to him? Should she apologize for being unable to visit his grave because she hadn’t fully moved to Iwatodai yet, even though she prayed to him and their parents often? Should she tell him how exhausting it was to unpack everything by herself? That her university admissions made a mistake with her transfer paperwork, so she ended up wasting maybe an hour having to wait on getting that crap sorted out? Does she talk about the journey to the graveyard because she got hopelessly lost?

Does she talk about the detectives, all of the ones that rejected her case? Or what about the ones who threw insulting remarks about him or his friends, or the few believing that the Kirijo Group had some involvement? Not all of them were bad, she supposes.

But what does it say about all those full grown men, when it was a kid barely into his first year of high school who reached out to her first?

The same kid who asked her if she was still looking for someone to look into her case?

What the hell do normal people really talk about, anyway? What should someone say, despite the distant relationship they shared prior to them passing on?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Hey,” she settles on a smile. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Before he decided to attend Gekkoukan High School, they were only able to meet up a few times in a year if they were lucky. All of them had been for family gatherings, and Minato had been shoved into house to house among their relatives because none of them wanted to deal with the more traumatized twin.

They only stayed in contact through her sheer stubborn will, and she doubts her brother would agree to it if she hadn’t been intentionally annoying and nosy about his life. The letters were meant to be his reprieve from her constantly trying to contact him by phone.

(Maybe she should’ve tried harder.)

It was a good thing that she didn’t give up on staying in contact. She doubts that she would be excluded from it as his twin sister, but if she wasn’t one of his contacts, maybe she wouldn’t have even known about the funeral. Some of their relatives still didn’t find out until recently.

(And they were all disgustingly the same, murmuring feigned sorrow with greedy eyes as they reluctantly ask about whatever was left of their inheritance from their parents.

She knows they wish she were out of the picture, too.)

“I know you didn’t want to talk to me about a bunch of stuff, but what the hell, big bro?” she dryly laughed. “What’s up with all the money and cosplay crap?”

Part of her thinks that maybe he really did do some shady jobs — the money he left behind to her was enough to buy her several houses and live comfortably unemployed for years, and that didn’t include the inheritance from their parents and the royalties they still received from their music. If she was smart with her money and didn’t waste it, if she made a few investments, then she’d be set for life.

(One detective thought that maybe he sold raunchy cosplay pictures, a mental image that was, and still is, very much unwanted and unneeded and made zero sense with what she knew of her brother. It helps that the detective seemed just as uncomfortable with the thought as she was.

Another suggested it was from video game competitions, which sounded much more likely and vastly more doable and preferable.)

Similar to their parents, there were royalties coming in under his name. Maybe she ought to revisit those papers and figure out why that is. The past few months, she’s been more focused on graduating and planning what to do next, so she tried to avoid thinking about most of the unpleasant aspects that come after someone’s passing, which included those royalties.

Still, he really did leave behind a lot of stuff. Weapons, clothes, accessories, books, and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff. The few detectives willing to entertain her case before declining after hearing that the Kirijo Group was involved considered that maybe his school club was one of those Dungeons and Dragons thing, but was much more serious to the point that they’d embody their character. His phone’s background was also proof that he was really into gaming. It explained half the problems and nothing more.

So this whole green world thing from the first letter was maybe a mistake, which was possible. He might’ve been tired and started writing a scene and forgot that it was a letter to her. Debatable, questionable, but not impossible. The weapons thing felt odd, but her brother had never been very forthcoming about his interests other than music, so that left room for possibilities. Books were normal, but the random outfits and accessories made sense when lumped together as part of the cosplay stuff. He had an armband with “SEES” on it, which was apparently one of his after school clubs.

What concerned her was the random health stuff.

He had a notebook. It mentioned the names of the items, the effects of it, the HP and SP — that was one of the tip offs that it must’ve just been a group game thing. Some were items were relatively harmless, but the more concerning items were what he noted to be “Rancid Gravy” and “Odd Morsel”.

She supposes that it was fortunate that Mitsuru Kirijo had offered to buy most of her brother’s things for her, even if she sent an assistant to handle the deal. Even if she was sure that the Kirijo Group covered up her brother’s cause of death, she did seem guilty about it. And ashamed, if the avoidance of a second in-person meeting was any indication.

One of the suggestions for her brother’s cause of death was overwork, despite being at the pinnacle of health. That was the official story, anyway.

(How the hell does the rising star of the track team die in his sleep, without an ounce of drugs in his blood?)

It was painful going through his belongings, and the whole thing felt rather ironic. She would want for nothing thanks to her brother’s passing, and yet him being alive was the only thing she wished for.

She crouches down, feeling so incredibly small and sad and angry at the world. It looked like the grave was well-maintained. His friends, she thinks, because their family hadn’t thought kindly of her and her brother, except for a few who were never able to care for them.

A passing thought flickers in her mind, wondering if her brother ever visited their parents while he was here.

Probably not.

He didn’t like reminiscing any more than she did.

She places an incense, a habit that’s become second nature since the death of their parents. Even if she doesn’t believe in an afterlife, she finds comfort in the gesture. It helps, knowing that if it really did exist despite her disbelief, then she could make her loved ones happy even if just for a short while.

“I don’t even know if melon bread is still your favourite,” she admits softly, placing the plastic wrapped bread on the grave as an offering. “I’d like to think it still is.”

It’d be devastating if she were ever told otherwise, but she likes to pretend that she still knows her brother well. Her brother would eat anything placed in front of him, but he had minor dislikes that popped up from time to time. When she first started learning how to cook back when they were younger and still lived together, she was absolutely terrible, but her brother never complained and simply made suggestions little by little. He sent her compliments when she sent him cookies every once in a while, and she promised to cook for him whenever she had the chance to see him.

Her brother was always the better chef, though. He was always sending her recipes, mentioning alterations he’s done. She didn’t really have the chance to show off when they reached high school, but she promised she would. Hell, he entertained the idea of a restaurant, purely because he had a senpai who was good at cooking.

And now, she’ll never have that chance to cook for her brother.

“You promised,” she muttered, feeling so horribly hurt and broken as she smiled with gritted teeth. “Did you remember? We were going to be grown-ups and open up our own bakery or restaurant. I’d deal with the customers, and you could stay in the kitchen cooking and baking all day, rocking out to music as much as you want, and then when we close up shop, we can just go upstairs and be at home relaxing in minutes.”

It was a what-if, a possible future plan, but she wanted to be with her brother because he was the only person left who understood. She wanted them to live an easy and simple life, because it was hard to move from place to place with no one to return home to.

And that’s what will happen now. Moving to a new place with no one to come home to.

Again.

“You liar,” she muttered, bitter and hateful, burying her face into the palm of her hands. Part of her wants to cry, but she won’t, and she hasn’t. This dreadful place doesn’t deserve her tears. She could smell the sandalwood incense, and yet again, she’s reminded of that time during their parent’s funeral.

How could he leave like this? Did she even cross his mind?

Ah, but she knows. She knows that whatever happened to him, he didn’t want to leave her.

It wasn’t said outright, but there was a chance that he’d be fine. That he was going to hang in there.

Something happened to him, but what ?

She clenched her fists, her nails once again digging into her skin.

It’s very easy for her, she thinks, to feel resentful about everything. Resentful of her brother, of his death, of herself — everything.

Between the two of them, she was always selfish, something that she didn’t mind until now, always wanting things to go her way. She was always more resentful, she knew hatred so intimately well that it made her feel bitter to her bones. Maybe that was why she knew that he’d tell her to leave it be, let bygones be bygones, and to not even try to look into his death.

But her brother was gone, so he can’t really tell her what to do. And she won’t take the imagined advice — not even if he were to rise from the dead to tell her himself.

She’ll damn well figure out why he died.

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[Unsent Letter]

From: Minato Arisato

To: Kotone Shiomi

January – 2010

Dear Hamuko,

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

I’m not sure if this letter will ever reach you, but if it has, then. Well, I’m gone, and the world hasn’t ended like we thought it would. This day came sooner than I thought, and it’s hard sometimes, but I think I get what you mean now. About rising above challenges as long as you’re with some friends, even if you were only talking about manga. I have a promise to keep to my friends, and I’ll die trying to achieve it.

Maybe in another life, or another world, you could understand what I’m going through. Or maybe we would live normal lives and build up that bakery you keep yapping on about.

I’m sorry for never really being present in your life. You always reach out to me, even when you get upset at me for something I’ve done. I do feel guilty about that, and I can’t make anyone happy here no matter what I choose to do. I know you’ll be okay, you always manage to bounce back up no matter what, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.

I’d like to tell you I’m sorry in person, but if you received this letter, then I can’t do that.

My choices have brought me to this point, and I can’t say I regret anything about my life now that I understand what true relationships are like.

I do regret one thing, and that’s leaving you behind. I’m sorry, Hamuko, for breaking our promises. I won’t ask you to forgive me.

This is just another consequence of my actions, and I will bear it as my responsibility.

You will always be my little sister.

Goodbye,

Minato

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‘Now what?’ She thinks, staring blankly at the gravestone. ‘I bought an old dormitory to renovate so I can feel less guilty for using brother's money one I start getting tenants — I need to do some tidying up, but it’ll be a good place to rent out, so I can have a little extra money just to be safe. I don’t have a meeting with the detective until next weekend, and I need to wait to hear about my enrollment to University.’

She looks up into the sky, watching the clouds floating by amidst the sunset skies.

How long has she been standing here?

“Shiomi-san? You’re still here?” comes the familiar voice, surprise and a hint of concern in his voice. Looking up, she finds herself staring at the man she’s seen only several hours ago.

“Oh, Sanada-san,” she politely greeted after a moment of silence.

She knew that seeing him again was inevitable, considering that he was a student at the university she’s enrolling into, but it’s only been a few hours. And, unlike before, he wasn’t alone. Standing a little away was a group of young adults, with a teen, a dog, and a foreigner girl.

“I was actually just about done,” she smiled at him. “There’s been a lot on my mind, so it’s rather refreshing to get it off my chest.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie — she really did feel better, even if she had a minor headache from all the things that she needed to deal with. Renovations. Paperwork. Meeting the detective. University.

Paperwork was no joke, but solving a mystery with almost no clues was the absolute worst.

Ah… so much to do.

“I see,” he looked at her, understanding in his eyes as he simply nodded.

“Well, I ought to get going before it starts getting dark out, Sanada-san,” she bowed to him, smiling politely. “Have a good evening.”

She walks past him, getting a better look at the group. What a colorful group, she thinks. Blue baseball cap guy, a lady in a pink sweater, a petite lady in green, a blonde foreigner, a teen in an orange sweater, and…

Kotone instinctively smiled, bowing politely at the group and glancing up at Mitsuru Kirijo, the most famous among the group. The heiress, or rather, the leader of the group. Wasn’t she her brother’s friend? If that’s the case, then everyone here must’ve been the group who showed up at her brother’s funeral.

So she was right. Akihiko Sanada was the same Akihiko-senpai her brother mentioned in passing.

“I take it that you and your friends have been taking care of my brother’s grave,” she bowed again. “Thank you for looking out for him even now.”

She bites her tongue, her mind cursing at them. How much did they contribute to her brother’s death? There’s been shady rumours of the Kirijo Group, they were wealthy and had more than enough influence to keep things hidden.

Kotone will never know.

Before they could say anything — surprise, shock, or just downright confusion written all across their faces — she takes her leave. Fists clenching, she bites her lip and wonders how she ought to go about this.

She can’t take any risks right now.

It was safe to assume that they were all dorm mates or or they were all part of the same club, otherwise they wouldn’t plan on visiting together with an almost carefree air to them. It was also possible that they all happened to know her brother from separate instances and came together to grieve after his funeral. He’s mentioned quite a lot of names, so that’s her first step: rereading everything and writing down names and his relation to them. That’s already her plan for before the detective arrives.

She wasn’t going to demand answers from them. Not right now.

For starters, a cover-up was still in the realm of possibility with the Kirijo Group involved. And it was very obvious now that they might know something from how they acted at the funeral back then. They grieved for her brother, but it was different from all the other funerals that she’s been to. Back then, she thought nothing of it because her mind had blanked and she couldn’t focus.

But Kirijo recognized her after she thanked her, with a flash of guilt and understanding. Maybe she’s grasping at straws for something, but it doesn’t matter.

She will find out the truth.

#ilyusha tag #wynter writes #p3 fic #re: all in the past #fic: all in the past (rewrite)#akihamu

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starlit-dreaming · 2 years

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[ch2] it was only one night

Rating: E Ship: Lucathy (main), Calena (side), Felily (mention) TL;DR: Modern Setting + Lawyer Athy + IT Expert Lucas + Unplanned Pregnancy from a One-Night Stand Note: crossposted to Wattpad under the same name; crossposted to AO3 under Starlit_Dreaming

1 | [2] | 3 | 4

big shout out to @lithi and @hwang-lucas for being the best of friends to inspire the creation of this fic and its continuation by fuelling the lucathy flames and being fantastic buddies.

note: i barely edited the explicit scene, but there should be a lot of things different about this compared to the drafts

EY YO THIS CHAPTER’S EXPLICIT THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING TO LOOK AWAY CAUSE IM NOT GONNA CENSOR SHIT

athanasia and lucas are both consenting adults that are both using alcohol as an excuse. if that ain’t your jam then y’all shouldn’tve continued reading a fic thats been advertised as a one night stand au for the longest time

my works are always posted to tumblr first, ao3 second (sometimes swapped with tumblr), and wattpad third.

Summary: There are three things in this world that Athanasia truly regrets. 1. Being kind to Jennette Margarita, her cousin. 2. Giving Ijekiel Alpheus her many firsts. 3. Having a one-night stand with her co-worker and friend, Lucas Hwang. (And if she doesn’t regret sleeping with him, waking up in his bed, and wearing his clothes, then that’s just something she’ll keep to herself.) // In which Athanasia and Lucas fall in love, get married, have a child, and get their shit together by reconnecting with their respective families. Possibly in that exact order… or not.

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ii. passion [EXPLICIT]

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To start off with — despite the fact that The Lovely Success sounded like a title for a cringy romance novel or one of those published self-help books about how having self-confidence was the key to success, it was actually the name of an international law firm with multiple branches in different parts of the world. It was highly reputable, and the majority of the clients she'll end up meeting are in the upper class. Some snooty or entitled customers, but many polite and the slightest bit nosy — ignoring the annoying customers who flirt with her.

So, it stands to reason that for their company's holiday parties, it would require men in stiff suits and women dressed up in fancy-looking dresses. There was alcohol and champagne and treats on a buffet table, and some people who danced informally to the music.

However, because it was a company party composed of her co-workers and their partners, with a few outside businesspeople, the quality was nothing reminiscent of her days as an heiress as it was more informal. Admittedly, it did remind her too much of when she still lived with her family, but it was different enough for her to feel comfortable with the idea of attending.

Not that she'd be able to get out of it easily. There's either going to be networking opportunities or none at all, and for Athanasia, it tends to be the latter.

On her first end-of-the-year company party at the law firm, she somehow ended up drifting over to Lucas and befriending him, so it wasn't all for naught. They were aware of the other's existence, and had spoken on a few occasions as Lucas often had to fix the crummy company computers in her parts of the building.

They both mutually benefited in hanging out together that night — Lucas repelled the single men who tried to flirt with Athanasia with only an uncaring glance that intimidated them, and Athanasia ended up warding off the women who were pining for Lucas just by being the prettiest person in the law firm standing at his side with a thin smile. It was the start of a misunderstanding among their co-workers, who started to think that she and Lucas were romantically involved, but the two of them still didn't confirm or deny the rumours and simply ignored the question to this very day.

And why would they? It helped them, so there was never any reason to clear it up. For Lucas, it reduced his ever-growing headache when the majority of his co-workers stopped trying to flirt with him while on the job. For Athanasia, it lowered the number of flowers from secret admirers that she would find in her office, as well as put a halt to the rumours about her leading people just because she smiled at someone that day. Neither outright lied, but they didn't insinuate a damn thing. It was just too convenient, and they both knew it benefited the two of them.

Suffice to say, after that first party, it seemed like a given for her to stick with Lucas. They'd always sit at the same table with Cabel, since they both decided to start eating together in their shared camaraderie, and later, with Helena joining them after she graduates from law school a year after.

There was no reason for their unspoken routine to change when their third end-of-the-year company party came around.

It was supposed to be the same as usual.

But then everything changed.

——————————

(She remembers everything about that night with startling clarity.

And why wouldn't she, when she looked at the photos Lillian had sent her? Photos of Lillian's smile, of the pretty blue engagement ring that was now on her former nanny's finger, of the bouquet Lillian was thinking of making for her upcoming wedding.

And how could she not? When she remembers watching Cabel stand on one of his knees as if he was proposing — which he wasn't — holding Helena's hand as he dramatically asked her for a dance. Remembers how she would wistfully watch as Helena giggles with a bright and happy smile, leaving the table and going to the dance with their hands intertwined. She remembers that envy, making her feel just the tiniest bit of guilt at the happy couple's sweet moment.

And if only she could stop thinking of it all. How one glass of cheap-tasting and horrible champagne doubles and triples throughout the night. And how she'll mope and sulk at the table with Lucas, who stays by her side, talking to her lest she keeps reaching out for more champagne. And how she would be relieved, knowing that her cheeks were red from the alcohol and not because of her fluttering heart. How she vividly remembers vermilion eyes staring into her eyes, and how he takes her breath away, how she felt so incredibly warm and pleasant in his arms, how he held her in a tender embrace that her heart aches. How attractive he was, when he loomed over her, their bodies pressing closer and closer together with skin touching skin—

Ahem.

Suffice to say, she remembers that night very clearly.

Not that she'll admit it.)

——————————

Athanasia never really cares to remember much of the start when it came to parties. It was the same as previous years, in which a semi-mandatory Christmas party was held. For the most part, the people who first started this party had it with the intention of making it one of those matchmaking parties for singles. Now, it was just an excuse for a party and to gossip and matchmake whoever was single. Or unmarried; that was an important distinction. Granted, married couples still attend to show off their spouses.

As per tradition, she was seated at a table, sitting between Lucas and Helena. She arrived with Lucas, to fuel the implications and because it was easier for her to catch an Uber with him than for both of them to drive when they're going to be drinking tonight. After all, the alcohol will make this whole headache of a party be much more bearable. Worse comes to worst, she'll just crash on his couch if neither of them are sober enough to get an Uber for her. She's done it before — hell, everyone in their friend group always crashed at Lucas's place after having one too many drinks.

Absent-mindedly, she takes a sip of her glass of cheap champagne — it was disgusting since the day she first tried it, but time helped her adapt to the taste. At least it was a better brand this time, still bitter, a little too dry, but better — scrolling through the pictures Lillian had texted her. She was already pumped about the engagement since she knew Felix would propose the day before the Christmas party, and she was happy for Lillian. The wedding ring was a custom-made ring with a sparkling silver band, with little light blue gems shaped in a flower that matched Lillian's pretty blue eyes.

Athanasia had to help Felix with picking out the ring, since he had no eye for jewellery, but he was the one who noticed the blue gemstones on another piece of jewellery. He had the ring custom-made and ordered it the previous year — nerves got to him, but he did end up proposing eventually.

Oh, that was pretty, Athanasia thought, looking at the flower arrangements Lillian made at her family's flower shop. The bouquet was composed of soft blue and white flowers, with a bit of light silvery grey. Lillian was definitely going all out with their eye colours as a wedding colour theme, and Athanasia definitely agrees.

She finishes her drink before she gets a new glass of champagne as a waitress passes by.

A giggle is heard, light and familiar and obviously Helena's. Athanasia glances up from her phone with a flicker of her eyes, watching Cabel holding Helena's hand with a flourish. Like a nobleman holding a noblewoman's hand, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, flashing Helena a charming smile.

"May I have this dance, my dear?" Cabel grinned, knowing full well what his girlfriend's answer was going to be.

"Of course," Helena giggled as he stood up, guiding her to stand up as well before he whisked her off to the dance floor.

It was a very strange sight to see Helena be so overjoyed with dancing. In fact, when they were younger, Helena confided in Athanasia that she dreaded going to any sort of party where she was expected to dance at least once. Her mother would often try to push boys their age onto Helena, as if trying to play matchmaker, and all of her friends were scrutinized and valued based on their family's worth.

Granted, it did help Helena form connections with their peers, and some of them did end up meeting Athanasia when she went on blind dates, but at least Helena didn't outright expect sparks to happen.

Helena smiled wide as she and Cabel danced.

She was sure Lucas had probably gagged over how lovey-dovey the two of them were being, but Athanasia couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Having a partner was always nice, but it was always a strange thought, knowing that she would've been married by now if her life didn't take a turn in her university days. Of course, she never thought of herself as a housewife, so she wanted a partner that wouldn't hate the fact that she would be the possible breadwinner of the household.

Maybe she'll end up alone? She could adopt a dog or two...

Athanasia sips on her glass, blinking when she realizes that she finished yet another glass. This time, she gets another glass of champagne from a waiter.

Lucas slowly takes a sip from his own glass as he eyed the two empty glasses in front of Athanasia. He frowns, seeming irritated as he heaved a heavy sigh. She very clearly noticed how much his eyes narrowed as if something was bothering him.

'What's his problem?' Athanasia thought sullenly as she downed another glass.

"Alright," Lucas grumbled before diving straight to his point as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "Out with it. What's eating you up inside?"

"Well, you don't have to be so rude about it," she grumbled. "What are you even talking about?"

"Seriously. I thought you hated champagne," he stated as she was halfway finished with her third glass.

"Ugh. Let me wallow and drown in my loneliness," she groaned, slumping in her seat as she pouted like a petulant child. "If you must know, I'm going to die as a crazy old cat lady, Luke."

Lucas stared at her blankly before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Meanwhile, Athanasia opened her purse, taking out the container for her coloured eye contacts. She takes out her eye contacts; blue jewelled eyes were now showing as she took out the rose pink contacts. Even though she was still feeling incredibly sober — it took more champagne than two and a half glasses' worth to make her tipsy, let alone drunk — she was always an emotional person when she had alcohol. She sniffed, starting to feel the full brunt of her feelings. Plus, almost everyone were starting to get a little too tipsy to care about appearances, or they already knew who her birth father was.

Lucas grumbled before reluctantly rubbing her back in an awkward attempt at a comforting gesture. "I'm sure that everything's... okay."

"Everything's not okay," eyes tearing up as she downed the rest of her champagne, she had answered in a wobbly voice. She knows that she'll feel embarrassed about blubbering over everything at Lucas again, but it isn't the first time, nor was it going to be the last time it happens. She really should stop drinking the champagne, but in her defense, it was free. "I'll end up old and alone with an army of cats."

"Why are you like—" Lucas started off with a disgruntled look before taking a deep breath. With a calm and flat voice, he starts over, "You can be crazy sometimes, but why do you think you're going to end up all alone? And why cats? I thought you loved dogs more."

"Helena was the only one willing to marry me, but now she's with Cabel, and I'm happy for them, but now I'm stuck watching them be lovey-dovey while I'm still single."

She and Helena always joked about being the other's fiancée, but in a way it was still accurate. After going through a rough breakup with Ijekiel, Helena assured her that she'll find someone better, and if not then Helena herself would marry her if either of them remained single by their 30th birthday. Athanasia wasn't in any rush to get married, especially since she was focused on her career, but the what-ifs plagued her.

(Plus, Helena only made the offer because she was always down for ruining her parent's expectations of her when it came to marriage. Apparently they only approved of Cabel because of his family, but Cabel was an absolute menace when they were younger, and Helena's parents remembered that very clearly. They don't approve of them living together as an unmarried couple, however.

Not that Helena cared, of course. She was the one who insisted they moved in together.)

"You do realize that I'm their friend, too. I have to deal with their lovey-dovey shit, so why do you think you're alone here?" Lucas dryly asked. He knew better than to ask about the other details like, for example, being a cat lady.

Athanasia paid him no mind, lost in her own thoughts.

What if she was 30, and still single? It wouldn't be a big deal, but she was just tired of always being alone. She wanted to get married, she wanted to find a partner to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted this, and that, and everything else that she feels is too much out of her hands.

"I'm only 27," Athanasia slouched over the table, twirling her glass of champagne before taking another sip and sighing. "What if I do find a guy, and we end up getting a divorce? I know Helena will always be there to represent me in a divorce court case, but what if we end up going to court fighting over the custody of our dog?!" She looked at Lucas with teary eyes. "Kids are common in custody battles, but not pets! What if I never get custody of our dog and I get so distraught that I have to resort to adopting cats because of the painful memories of losing the custody battle?! Not only would I have wasted years on a failed marriage, but I'd be losing my dog!"

He stared at her, an incredulous look on as he stared at her, thinking, why is she like this? What exactly was he even supposed to say to that? Was she having an existential crisis again? Is this what her existential crisis is supposed to look like? Why does this happen to him? He's a good person, he's beautiful, he's the best in his job field, so why does he have to deal with something as troublesome as this?

"You're kidding me."

"It's happened. Ask Helena — she had a case where a financially stable couple, amicable towards each other and agreeing on a 50-50 split of their assets, got into an argument of custody over their dog," she looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. "What if that's going to happen to me?! I don't want to be one of those crazy people in Helena's cases! People are crazy from beginning to end or they're crazy about one specific thing. I don't want to be one of them, refusing to accept any kind of agreement to the point that I end up going to court over whatever!"

"I think," Lucas slowly said, eyeing her warily, "that you're the one that needs to go outside more."

"Lucas!"

"Athena," he sighed. "Look, you're not going to be alone. I'm here too, I'm not in a relationship, so you don't have to worry if you think every couple will leave you by yourself."

"That's even worse!" she cried, propping her elbows on the table as she buried her face into the palm of her hands. "I'm gonna end up all alone with you. It's just not possible! You like cats more than dogs. And yeah, sure, cats are cute, but dogs. That's a dealbreaker, Luke — we're incompatible!"

"Gosh, I'm a sensitive guy, you know, that sort of statement kind of hurts my feelings," Lucas blandly states.

Well, it didn't actually hurt, rather he found her comment to be rude. Had she been someone else, he would've said something ominous or slightly threatening for insinuating that he wouldn't be a good partner.

Instead, he watches her cheeks flush pink as she finishes off the rest of her third glass before getting a fourth one. "Also, I never said anything about liking cats more than dogs — I don't have a preference, so don't worry. Feel free to form an army of dogs instead of cats," he shook his head, sipping the remainder of his champagne.

"Really?" she brightened up, looking at Lucas with watery eyes. "You would still be with me even after I get a bunch of dogs and be a crazy dog lady?"

"Yeah, sure," he rolls his eyes. "I support you."

Hopefully, she didn't actually take that seriously, he would later think. He didn't want to imagine her getting god knows how many dogs in a fit of insanity.

She had to have known he wasn't serious, right?

. . .

Hopefully.

——————————

(And, she'll later recall, looking back on all of this, that it was hard to forget that at the end of the day she was Athanasia de Alger Obelia. It wasn't a secret that she was the former heiress of her father's business, but it was easy to pretend she was someone else entirely the moment she left home and changed her surname to her mother's.

There were plenty of blondes named Athanasia out there in the world, some with different spell variations or similar sounding names like Anastasia. Probably with blue eyes, too, if they didn't notice the jewelled part of her blue eyes, but it was an easy fix with coloured contacts and her mother's maiden name.

Lily, Felix, and Helena constantly reminded her of that past, that Athanasia Lebedeva was considered the unloved daughter, that she would still be connected to her father.

It was never malicious, of course, but it always weighed down on her, knowing how much they knew.

But Lucas didn't. He didn't even care about who she was.

Maybe that was why she...)

——————————

And it's after her mini sob fest that things start to feel a little hazy.

She justifies every word and action as something done because of the alcohol that was running through her veins. Athanasia has never actually gotten drunk off of champagne, and all champagne ever does for her is make her head float as if she's on cloud nine, but when it comes to herself, Athanasia isn't a very honest person.

Lucas is more aware than she was, she's pretty sure, but the alcohol's making him grin more, and she's giggling and happy and bright. She's not an alcoholic, but she can understand why people would willingly drink and drink and drink.

They don't even realize that Cabel and Helena had already gone home for the night, not until they decided to leave. It was 10PM, only two hours after the party started, when Lucas says that he'd rather go home than stay any longer than what he was obligated to, and Athanasia agreed with the sentiment. He was only sticking around her to help keep their so-called relationship image to their co-workers, she reasoned.

She's had one too many drinks, and since their respective best friend ditched them, he was just being a good friend by being there for her, she reasoned. So that's why he lets her lean into his side, with an arm wrapped around her shoulder to hold her steady. Because she's just the slightest bit on the side of being too tipsy to walk straight.

So, she's honest when she's had one too many drinks. Her footsteps are unsteady, she gets more emotional than she'd like to be, and she relearns a fact that she's ignored for years: she's still lonely.

She feels it deep in her bones, stuck in a place of aching honesty.

She's lonely.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment," the words slip out as they wait in the elevator, waiting together, alone and just the two of them.

"I don't want to be alone again," her whispers roared in her mind, and her eyelids would flutter shut, focusing on the warm and comforting weight of his hand wrapped around her shoulder.

"That place just doesn't feel like a home," and she's not sure if she's talking about her crummy apartment or her father's estate. Maybe it's both.

"There's no one waiting for me there." Silence.

She feels the hand squeeze her shoulder, a light pressure, a reminder that there's a hand there, or rather, that he's still with her.

(Athanasia wonders if Lucas ever realized how much that minor gesture meant to her at that moment.)

"What do you want to do, then?" Lucas eventually asks, when she finally looks up at him. Sapphire blue meeting cinnabar red. "You're always welcome to stay with me tonight."

A pause.

And suddenly, there's an implication there, an unspoken question that she did not intend to happen.

And, Athanasia would reason to herself for the sake of preserving their friendship and keeping things Not weird, that it's just the alcohol that made her feel turned on by the implications. That her loneliness amplified a desire to fall asleep beside someone who'll keep her company.

"If that's what you want," Lucas eventually said as if it were an afterthought, staring into her eyes. It felt as if his eyes, his beautiful, unwavering eyes, were searching for something in her eyes.

(She doesn't know if he ever found what he was looking for.)

All she says is, "I do."

——————————

Athanasia would like to state that for the record, she is not normally carried away when she's tipsy.

Or at least, that's how she justified her actions. They were both sitting in the back of an Uber driver's car, and something about sitting next to each other just seemed to... spark something. She's not sure what it was, attraction, yeah, maybe something like lust — she's no stranger to hookups, but it's a first for it to involve one of her co-workers.

Something inexplicable sparks the moment their eyes meet in the backseat, because Lucas is staring at her, and she's looking back at him. Their fingers were interlocked, and they gravitated towards each other.

Maybe there was something between them all along, or perhaps it was a feeling spurred on from the champagne.

Perhaps both.

Their friendship is on the line here, but they both have an excuse of being drunk, with the alcohol thrumming through their veins. It makes them float, inclines them to do something more. They won't have to address any awkward feelings or confront anything personal in the morning.

All that matters for now is that they want to make a mistake.

(And a mistake they will commit.)

They do end up kissing in that same backseat. Her hands were loosely wrapped around his neck as Lucas ran one of his hands through her hair, effectively undoing the hair bun she had for the occasion, as he placed his other hand around her waist. She felt so warm, and she wanted more, more, more.

It wasn't a chaste kiss.

Their kiss leaves her with swollen lips, a face flushed red, and with burning lungs. She pulled away to breathe, and when she breathed, it was the first time in years that she'd felt so much more alive — she could taste the champagne that they both had, still felt the feeling of his tongue against hers.

She doesn't think about their friendship, about the possible consequences of the two of them doing this, nor does she think of the fact that they weren't supposed to be doing this.

(The thrill of being intimate with Lucas would be worth that risk, she thought.)

Instead of their friendship, she thinks about his eyes — molten cinnabar trapped in an intense stare, for her and only her at this very moment. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about how pretty he looks with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way his voice sounds, the way it lowers with a raspy tone as he whispers 'Athy' and how pleasant it feels for him to say her nickname like that.

And instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way he feels, his lips on hers, the way their fingers intertwined, the weight of his hand around her waist, or the comfort of his fingers that were now running through her hair.

Because instead of their friendship, all she can think about is wanting more, more, more.

So she makes her move, her fingers wrapping around his tie to pull his lips back down to meet hers in a rough rush. It's hot, it's breathier than the kiss before, it's heavy with unspoken promises, and still, it doesn't feel enough. And it's this time that Lucas is the one to pull away for air, and he stares at her with half-lidded eyes.

He looks at her as if he wants her and no one else, as if he wants more than just a bruising kiss to remember this night by.

And... she knows that she wants more, too.

Her heart is bursting, pounding hard the longer she stares into Lucas's eyes in the back of a stranger's car, as they're undoubtedly breaking seatbelt laws. And Lucas's hand creeps up the skirt of her dress, a warm hand resting on her thigh as he leans in close. It was enough to convey that it wasn't just her that wanted this, but also a reassurance that he could still back off at her say so.

Not that she would ever want him to.

"Let me have you," he mumbles into her ear, quiet for her to hear, before pulling back enough for him to look at her eyes. His other hand cups her cheek — feeling refreshingly cold against her burning skin. And as she looks into his half-lidded eyes, she finds herself effectively ensnared by his charming good looks that she often cursed.

"Okay," she breathes, thinking about how she wants his hand to crawl higher than just her thigh right now. She didn't care about the what-ifs or what-happens-next. The only thing on her mind is his touch, his kiss, his stare focused on her and nothing else.

"Okay?" he echoes with a teasing smirk, his lips so close to hers that it feels almost torturous.

She frowns.

Again, her hand yanks on his tie for another abrupt kiss.

However, Lucas has the gall to huff in amusement as he turns his head slightly, causing her to kiss his cheek instead as if he predicted that from her. And he gives her a teasing smirk when she puffs up her cheeks at him for avoiding the kiss. And instead of saying anything else, he simply grins at her unspoken frustration, his hand holding a lock of her hair, bringing it up to his lips. Her hair was loose and messy from their make-out session.

It's only when their Uber driver states, "We're here," with relief in their voice as the car reaches to a halt, that she realizes that this must've been the reason why Lucas put an abrupt pause to their backseat kissing.

(It's only later, when she thinks back on this moment, that she'd like to profusely apologize to the Uber driver.)

Athanasia no longer feels tipsy enough to need help with standing and walking, but their impromptu make out session does give her slightly weak knees. Lucas still uses her being "tipsy" as an excuse to hold her in a princess carry to his apartment.

And despite her initial protests, she doesn't actually mind it.

In fact, she never wants him to let go.

——————————

Lucas drops her onto his bed, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie — it's a sight she's only seen in her guilty pleasure romance movies, a sight she's only fantasized about until now. He hovers above her which makes her heart leap, and there's something about the look in his eyes, something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy, and she thinks she's going to go crazy from how hard her heart beats.

There's an ache in her skin that makes her burn for so much more that it's beginning to feel unbearable. She wants him inside her, wants to feel him being rough against her, to scratch his back.

"I want to hear you scream my name, Athanasia," he whispers against her neck, his breath and the way he says her name causes a shiver to go down her spine. He chuckles at the reaction, seeming almost smug about it, too.

That was kind of annoying, she huffed.

He's lucky that he's cute.

"I'm not a screamer, Lucas," she cheekily states, and she's pretty sure that it's true. She'll gasp and pant and quietly moan, but she's never cried out, she's never screamed her partner's name before.

She kind of wants to scream tonight, though, and she thinks that if it's Lucas, he could succeed. If it's him, she might scream his name and cry when they twist and turn in ecstasy.

But she does want to wipe that smirk off his face. It would be tempting to stay quiet.

"Not for long," he murmurs, sounding awfully confident.

"Think you're up for the challenge?"

"It's a promise, Athy."

With her clothes off and undergarments remaining, she's feeling more exposed than she's ever been. Her panties and bra are black and lacy — a matching set she bought to make herself feel prettier and confident, and she feels incredibly relieved to know she wore the best pair of her underwear tonight.

She just didn't expect to feel so much more than that when Lucas sucks on her neck, his knee pressing up against her panties that she knows are getting soaked more and more and — oh god, she quietly moans.

And he swallows up her moans by kissing her lips, tongue pressing against tongue, and it leaves her breathless and aching, her eyes nearly tearing up as her hips press down against his knee. It's not enough friction for the throbbing need that she feels, the heat pooling below her stomach, and she clenches down on nothing as the ache only continues to grow relentless and insatiable. She's not normally reduced to tears, but Lucas has been hitting all the right spots since their night together started.

He starts to leave a trail of kisses, starting from her jaw back down to her neck where he leaves another hickey or two — it causes her to shiver and moan. Then a kiss to her breast trailing down to her hip, his body sliding down only to stop when he's eye level with her panties. And she removes the arm covering her eyes to look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

There's an insufferable smirk on his face that turns her on, but it also makes her want to punch it off.

Preferably both. Undoubtedly both.

"Well, now," Lucas seemed just about ready to tease, his hands brushing against her inner thigh, causing her to gulp from how sensitive her thighs were. As if he figured that out, his hand absentmindedly brushes her inner thigh back and forth with his index finger, slowly and almost torturous. Again, she clenches down on nothing. "I know I'm handsome, but I never would've thought that you would be this wet for me already."

"Ugh, will you just get a move on already, you insufferable—" As if anticipating her frustrated response, he presses his finger against her clit through her silk panties. The sudden sensation causes her to let out a startled squeak, there's a spark as he rubs against the bundle of nerves that causes her eyes to tear up more as she gulps and breathes, her hips arching up, grinding into that single finger through the thin, wet layer of her panties.

Just as she was about ready to snap at Lucas again, to demand that he stopped teasing her, the insufferable tease knew the perfect way to catch her off guard.

He tugs her panties off, leaning down to lock his mouth to her clit and suck. The unexpected force of it causes her to gasp loudly, back arching as she throws her head back against the bed, the balls of her feet pressing against his back. Two of his fingers slip into her, sliding in and out with ease as he leisurely stretches her open, and the relentless pace, the unwavering pressure that keeps building up more and more — it makes her melt and cry out as she bursts.

And for a minute, he just keeps going, drawing out the overwhelming pleasure as she cries from the overstimulation.

She can feel the smug curve of his lips against her body before he finally stops, giving her a moment to breathe.

"You're terrible. Absolutely terrible," she grumbles, shooting him a withering look.

"I thought I was doing pretty good with all those cute gasps," he states impishly, that smug grin still on his face. "Do I need to do something to redeem myself, your highness? Should I properly eat you out this time?"

That was not what she meant, and he knows it.

And right now, that's not what she wants from him, either. (At least, for now, anyway, the thought of him eating her out did sound good.)

"Just fuck me already!"

——————————

Lucas is the type of person who likes to take his time, she quickly learns.

He takes his time to explore her body, making her squirm and moan and gasp with every purposeful stroke in a way she's never known. She's known that he's always been the teasing sort of guy, but she only now realizes how that translates into the bedroom as he presses his teeth across her skin, only biting down when he hears the slightest stutter of breath coming from her lips just to hear her gasp and moan. His lips kiss her inner thighs, and she finds herself sighing and humming as he leaves behind love marks wherever he touches — the reddening marks easily hidden, but will undoubtedly be felt with every movement she makes.

And yet he still manages to tease her, the way his tongue licks and presses against her breasts, sucking on each nipple until they're pert and stiff while he fingers her open. It's the first time she's ever burned with a need for more. It's the first time her eyes tear up in years, and for her hips to still uncontrollably move.

It's the first time that she desperately wants to feel everything, to be touched and held and loved and, and—

And all she can think about is "Lucas, please, right there, more, oh god—"

When he sinks into her, his entire length inside her, he groans. It's a low and raspy tone of voice, and while she's heard him groan out complaints, heard him murmur her name in a low tone, this was different, this groan causes her to shiver with eager anticipation. And as he gives her a moment to adjust to that feeling of being full, he kisses her, soft and sweet enough that it could rot her teeth.

She whines at the feeling, feeling herself adjust to the very noticeable length inside her, planning to cover her face only for Lucas to stop her arm. And he kisses her, whispering against her lips, "Don't hide, I want to see your face." And it's quiet, paired with a softened gaze.

(She'll deny it in the aftermath, but these are the moments that she'll hope to repeat.

Her heartfelt light and full of affection.)

Athanasia begs him — without prompting — to move.

And he obliges, sliding in and out with ease. The second time he slides back in, she easily decides, was much better than the first. The third time was certainly a charm. And when he slams in on the fourth, she cries out, no longer judging the movements as long as he does it again, faster, harder.

And when he drives his hips forward, she trembles, losing herself in pleasure. And it gets even better when her legs widen, and he slams down against her, hitting the spot that makes her scream the loudest she's ever been. And Lucas, ever the man who pays attention to every little thing that he's done to draw out noises that she didn't even know that she could make until now, repeats that action and makes her writhe against his bedsheets and weep out pleas.

"Please, please, please— Lucas!"

She screams his name, in the end.

——————————

In the aftermath, when they're both finished, they just lay there together in each other's arms, cuddling. She was tired, she felt sticky and gross from the dried up sweat and the smell of sex in the air. Still, she could tell that they were both satisfied and content, and too exhausted to do much else.

Her cheeks burn red at the feeling of cum dripping out of her — she really ought to go shower and clean up, but she'll do that tomorrow. She'll need to buy a Plan B tomorrow, anyway. For now, she just wants to do nothing.

And as she lays in his bed, with his arms wrapped around her, she starts to doze off with her head tucked in the crook of his neck. His fingers ran through her hair, and she sighs, relaxing against his. She allows herself to indulge in this warm comfort, and she curls up against him with a smile.

They can worry about the world tomorrow, for all she cares.

That'll be a morning problem.

——————————

The first thing that registers in Athanasia's mind is that she doesn't want to get up.

When she awakens, she allows herself another indulgence, a fantasy, a what-if scenario. "What if we were actually together and hopelessly in love" type of scenario. It's not hard to imagine, with her naked in a big and comfortable bed that doesn't belong to her.

And it's just so easy, when Lucas lays at her side, propped up on one hand as the other hand runs through her hair, fingers twirling her hair.

There's a moment, where he caresses her cheek, and she'll reason with herself, that it's just on the spur of the moment, or that he's just sleepy when he pecks her lips. A chaste kiss that's softer than anything she's ever known.

As she lays in his arms, in his warm embrace, she wonders if she should pursue this.

Ultimately, she doesn't.

Not yet, anyway.

(But, to be honest, that is neither here nor there.)

——————————

She manages to take a shower without much of an issue. Her muscles are sore, her legs a tiny bit weak and wobbly, but she's warm and clean. The process was a pain in the ass — literally — but she can't say she regrets a damn thing. It was the best lay she's ever had, and Athanasia has been with other people.

When she leaves his bathroom, she's wearing a large clean shirt that makes her feel like a dwarf because Lucas was a jerk who just had to pick the biggest shirt for her to wear. He did have a small pair of shorts that he kept in storage with all the other stuff he hadn't worn since his high school days. So she at least won't be stuck in a shirt the whole night.

She could still smell his shampoo in her hair. Even though she adored her apple-scent shampoo and her flower soaps, Lucas at least had the same shampoo and soap brand as her. He had the standard stuff, but apart from that, he had a shelf of lotions in his room. Helena always lamented about how unfair it was that she hardly ever needed facial cleansers or face lotions to have such smooth skin. Athanasia wonders how much Helena would find a sort of kinship with Lucas after hearing of his vast collection.

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, they don't talk about last night.

She finds Lucas moving leisurely around his kitchen, the smell of warm eggs and bacon simmering in the kitchen. He was dressed in a loose t-shirt and a simple pair of black shorts.

Apart from him stopping and staring at her, with the way his eyes trailed up and down as he took in the sight of her, blatantly checking her out, everything felt simple and normal. It was nice, domestic, even, with just the two of them without their friends.

They're both clearly aware that there's something new between them, something that wasn't there prior to last night. They talk about anything, anything except for last night.

Granted, she almost smacked him when he didn't even try to hold back his snicker at the obvious limp in her steps. It's not her fault her hips and legs were sore!

Still, she finds out more about Lucas as they sit and eat together. They talk about their upcoming holiday plans. Lucas would be going to visit his grandmother for a week, since she's been nagging him about not seeing her much, about how he never visits. She knew that he has two brothers, but apparently he's the grandmother's favourite.

She tells him about her plans to celebrate Felix and Lillian's engagement with her bridesmaids, Hannah and Ces. As she excitedly tells him about being Lillian's bridesmaid, as her mother was originally supposed to be, there's a look in his eyes that she might consider to be... fond? Athanasia tries not to think too deeply about it.

Something does change between them, after that night. Because sometimes Lucas would twirl his fingers through her hair mid-conversation. Because sometimes Athanasia would hold his hand, and he would let her hold it without a single word or any sort of complaint. There were times when he would linger around her at work — he still did his work efficiently as possible, but he was more willing to talk. He'd ask questions, he'd stay around her for a fee extra minutes after he finished, ignoring calls until he decided to grace other departments with his presence.

They don't kiss, and that suits her just fine. It's clear that they're in this awkward in-between stage, that their feelings are mutual. She's fine with staying as friends for now, and he is, too. Eventually, she'd like to date him, but she's not sure how serious she wants them to be, because she's nearing thirty now, and she does want to have a family of her own one day, and Lucas doesn't give off the feeling of being a family man...

Still, she likes how different things are. It's in the little things — the lingering stares, the secretive smiles, and their brief touches.

It makes her heart flutter, and she doesn't know what to call this feeling.

. 'I regret nothing,' she ultimately thinks.

#fic: it was only one night #wmmap au #wynter writes #lucathy #lithium tag #ilyusha tag

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