#I am both hooting AND hollering

[shortsighted-owl]

Having some thoughts about the Buck bike scene in 6x04 and it made me realise this is almost like Buck and the crane climb from 4x14 again except this time Eddie isn’t stuck in the hospital fighting for his life not knowing Bucks putting himself, his body, in harms way so his family and those he loves won’t be the one who get hurt.

This time it’s Eddie shouting after Buck when he takes off on the bike - he’s going to watch Buck make that decision and take off after Chim - who is basically Bucks brother - and the drunk driver. And Eddie can’t stop him. Only watch him disappear into the distance.

[royslovelanguage]

one thing about me is i will make any love triangle i like poly.

that being said rooting for roy/keeley/jaime and the absolute drama about to unfold

[betweendoctorsanddetectives]

dean literally telling sam the phone works both ways 😭 he had to be more than just a brother he had to be a father and a mother FOR REAL

[multifandom-worlds]

Party Like a Rockstar....Fuck Like a Pornstar

Genre: Almost smut? Like, smut adjacent.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Alcohol, fairly descriptive talk of sex, mild derogatory language

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader x Theodore Nott

Authors Note: This is my first fic for this fandom. Probably pretty out of character for them. Please let me know if there is anything I missed, anything I should do differently next time, etc. Thanks for reading!

“I don’t understand why they prefer to spend time with her rather than with us?”

You listened to a group of random Slytherin 5th years as they fawned over Theodore and Matthew, watching them at their Quidditch game against Gryffindor. You were used to other students wanting your boys, even though the three of you did not keep your relationship with each other a secret. It just came with the territory—you had two of the hottest Slytherin boys wrapped around your finger, doing whatever you asked of them as the obedient little dogs they really were. 

“Look at her, seriously? Look at all the hickeys on her neck. She’s so trashy!”You chuckle to yourself, stretching out in the bleachers and enjoying the sun on your face. If only they knew how you got those hickeys, how fuck drunk you were on their cocks just the night before as they ruined you, leaving you a dripping, overstimulated mess on Theo’s bed. If only they knew how you had Theo whimpering,  begging to be touched while you rode Mattheo’s face. 

You watch, along with the other fangirls, as they fly around overhead, watching their muscles contract. You press your thighs together, feeling heat start to grow between them—they were losing, and you knew whenever they lost, especially to Gryffindor, they would be angry and take all that pent-up emotion out of you. Not that you mind, you had no issues being their little fuck toy, mainly because they would shower you with praise once they felt better. 

While you were daydreaming, Slytherin had caught the snitch and won the game. The entire Slytherin bleachers erupted into hoots and hollers as they descended on the field. “Party in the Slytherin common room!” Blaise shouted above the din. 

You watch as that gaggle of 5th years swarm Mattheo and Theodore, pressing themselves all up over them, batting their eyelashes and flirting relentlessly. 

“You played so well!”

“You looked so hot up there!”

“Come back to my dorm, and I can help…relieve those sore muscles of yours. I’m really good with my hands.”

Theo dramatically gags, hearing what they have said, causing the rest of the team to laugh. He turns his attention to the 5th year directly in front of him. “And what’s your name?”

“Lacey, Lacey Goldrun. You’re Theodore Nott! My friends are Tara, Serena, Elena and Sophia. We have been yours and Mattheos' biggest fans ever! We come to all your games and know your whole schedule, even where your dorm is!” One of them responds, her face lighting up at the fact that Theodore Nott was talking to her.

Mattheo looks at them suspiciously. “That’s stalkerish.” 

“Well, Lacey Goldrun,” Theo began, looking down at her, eyes boring a hole into her. “You must be new here because everyone knows Matt and I are spoken for, so if you dare touch me again, I will…” 

You stick your finger and thumb in your mouth, letting out a high-pitched whistle, attracting the attention of every person on the Quidditch field. Theo draws his eyes away from Lacey before he and Mattheo begin to push their way through the crowd to you. 

“Walk 'em like a dog, sis!” Lorenzo shouts as you begin to walk back to the castle.

“Walk am like a dog!” Draco echos, erupting into a fit of laughter.

Both of them roll their eyes and flip the group the bird before diligently following you back to their dorm for their after-game ritual. Most would assume they planned on bedding you, but the reality was much softer. They took turns taking a shower to clean off all the sweat before the player who scored the most points in that game got to steal you for a nap.

Theo came out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his hips, seeing you and Mattheo fast asleep on his bed. The faintest smile pulled on his lips before he kissed both your cheeks and went to get changed and go for a smoke. “He scored one more point than I did, cara mia; how is this fair?” He chuckled to himself before leaving the dorm.

You moan into his kiss as he presses his body into yours from the front. You could feel just how hard both of them were, and it was all because of you. With Mattheo’s lips on your neck, your free hand slides down between your bodies to palm Theo through his jeans. 

Hours later, the Slytherin common room was packed - drunks were flowing, music was blaring, and the party was in full swing. You were grinding against Mattheo, your arms around his neck while his hands were on your hips, holding you tight against him. “You’re so fucking perfect, mon petit coeur. This dress..” He trails off, his hands sliding down your legs, playing with the hem of your admittedly concise dress. You continue to gride on him, making eye contact with Theo, sitting a few feet away.

“Fuck, cara mia, you look so fucking good griding on him like that.” Theo groans, walking over to you and Mattheo. He grabs your cheeks in one hand, forcing you to look up at him before he claims your mouth, his hand falling from your cheeks to your throat, squeezing gently. 

“Merlin, I wish that was me,” A very drunk Lacey whines. She was trying to make it look like she was talking to her friends, but she was staring straight at the 3 of you. You pull yourself away from your boys, strolling over to her before leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

“You want to be this trashy, do you little one? You want to be so cock drunk that you don’t even know your name, and you can’t sit on your ass for weeks because of how many times their hands came down on your ass?” You give her a quick once over, clicking your tongue in disgust. “You couldn’t handle this being you; you’d break before they even got started.” 

Lacey looks at you, eyes glassy in her drunken state. You squeeze the bridge of your nose. She didn’t understand a single thing you just said to her—which is probably a good thing. You didn’t necessarily want to traumatize the poor girl. You turn to her friends, “Take her back to her dorm; make sure she stays there. I don’t want to see any of you until morning. Do you understand me?” 

The other girls nod quickly, fear prevalent on their faces as they quickly pull Lacey away, disappearing into the crowd. You walk back to Mattheo and Theo. “That was one of the hottest things I have seen you do in a long time,” Mattheo says, grabbing your ass and pulling you close, stealing the words right off your tongue. 

You hardly had a moment to breathe before Theo's nicotine-stained lips made contact with yours. Mattheo lets go of your ass, disappearing into the hordes of people. You were so lost in Theo’s kiss that it barely even registered that he was gone. 

He bites your bottom lip, pulling away every so slightly before letting it go. “If you weren’t so drunk right now..” He began, hands on your ass, “I would drag you update and fuck that mouth of yours. Matt was right; that was one of the sexiest things you have done in a while, telling people what kind of perfect slut you are for us.” 

You go to say something, but you are interrupted by a shot glass getting shoved between your tits. You know who that hand belongs to - you look up at Mattheo, fire whiskey in his hands. “Celebratory shots, Theo?” He questions, pouring the alcohol into the shot glass.

“After you,” Theo says, taking the bottle from the other boy's hand. Mattheo smirks, shoving his face between your tits, wrapping his lips around the shot glass before lifting his head up and back, downing the liquid in one swallow. He takes the glass out of his mouth before handing it to Theo.

“My turn, Cara Mia, be a good girl now, and I might reward you when you sober up,” Theo says, placing the shot glass back between your tits. He poured some fire whiskey until it was overflowing. “Whoops,” he smirks before he, too, shoves his face between your tits and takes the glass between his lip.

[lueurjun]

enemies to lovers with soobin.

soobin x reader! in which a single misunderstanding sparks years full of dislike on both ends—or so you assume. enemies to lovers but it’s mainly idiots to lovers really. soobin x reader. i am literally starting to run out of ideas and it’s now 7 am and i haven’t slept but we move — pls cut me some slack if this one is bad. i am in the trenches rn. it’s also really long, i got carried away … my bad

reading the title probably made you giggle

because how on earth could anyone have beef with choi soobin?

the 6ft tall human embodiment of the word cosy

well, the thing is, you don’t actually hate soobin

it’s okay to admit it if you do, it’s not like imma jump you or anything hehe 🔪😐

for legal reasons that was a joke

so now you’re probably all like ‘but soobin would never hate me! he’s too soobin to hate anyone’

and you’d be correct because he actually doesn’t hate you

id jump him too. let that lanky mf admit he hates you and watch how fast i gather the crew ( my crew is the ninja turtles )

somehow, the two of you started this whole fiasco of believing that you hated each other

this dated back to when the two of you were starting high school and ended up falling in with the same group of friends

everything was fine at first and there was no beef with you and soobin

until one fateful evening when the group decided to hang out at the park

squad goals if you ask me. friends that go down the slide together, stay together trust me 🤞

everything had been running smoothly

aside from the fact that beomgyu almost got stuck inside a swing

after his panic attack and yeonjun had stocked up his camera roll with videos of the incident, beomgyu managed to be freed

thank you to taehyun who managed to yank him out

lord and saviour taehyun. saving beomgyu’s since he was in nappies 💪

after the whole ordeal, you sat next to soobin to gossip about how idiotic your friends are

and neither of you had realized just how close you were sitting

until one of your friends so generously pointed it out

fucking little tell tale RAT

which of course sent the rest of the group into a spiral of hoots and hollers

that then lead to the shipping and ‘oh you guys would be so cute together!’ comments

and they wouldn’t be wrong because you and soobin were actually a lot alike

the two of you shared common interests and could talk for hours about nothing

he was easy to talk to and that’s one of the things you liked about him

so, perhaps you didn’t mind the comments

oooooh not you crushinnnnn 😏 y/n and soobin kissin in a tree- sorry

in contrast, soobin’s expression was far from pleased as his gaze flickered from the group to taehyun and then to you, who stood with your eyes focused on the ground sheepishly

“what? i don’t like them. like at all. we’d be hideous together.”

record scratch. moment ruined

of course, he hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh

and he felt exceptionally bad when he saw your face fall

making matters worse, your friends quickly fell into an uncomfortable silence, the tension in the air so thick you could practically feel it

oh well done! gone and made it all awkward now

from then on, you kept your distance from him

you were hurt by how disgusted he seemed at the idea of dating you

i would literally die for you. bruno mars would catch a grenade for you? jump in front of a train? nah bitch. i’d let a thousand bullets shoot me just because you you asked me to. i’d even step on lego for you-BEAT THAT SOOBIN #imromantic #imbetterthanhim

of course, you didn’t hate him

you could never hate him because he’s damn near impossible to hate

but soobin was unaware, believing his comment had shifted your opinion of him

he wanted to apologize, but you made effort to avoid him at all costs

so, he gave up and just decided to let it be because he wasn’t going to harass you into accepting an apology

which meant he also started avoiding you

so naturally, you assumed he now hated you

both of you jumping to conclusions higher than fuckin snoop dogg at this point-

whenever the friend group would hang out, the two of you would keep your distance

if someone made a comment about said distance, the pair of you just shrugged it off and changed conversation

you kind of just started to co exist

and this went on for quite some time and by some time i mean… the rest of high school

it wasn’t until you were a year into college did the misunderstanding finally get revealed

yeonjun had arranged for a mini reunion since you all hadn’t had much time to hang out in your separate lives

sure, you saw each other a lot but it wasn’t nearly as frequent and the groupchat had kind of died down

the meeting spot just so happens to be the same park where soobin crushed your soul that night

and for a moment, you considered not going

ha pussayy……..i am so sorry

but something deep inside tugged at your heart, and a gentle whisper echoed in your mind, encouraging you to go

so you did

the catchup was nice, and the group reminisced on high school memories

one of them being when beomgyu got stuck in the swing

and that topic opened up a can of worms

“wasn’t that the night that y/n started despising soobin?”

kai had bluntly pointed out, laughing along with everyone else

except, you weren’t laughing

them: 🤣 you: 😐

“despising soobin? i never despised soobin?”

everyone looked at you as though you had grown three heads

because what? what do you mean you never despised him?

“yes you did? when he made that comment about the pair of you being hideous together? you two stopped talking after that…”

after taehyun’s statement, you turned to soobin who looked just as confused as everyone else

“i didn’t hate soobin… soobin hated me?”

you had never seen anyone laugh as hard as the boys in that moment

kai was almost purple

not him almost cosplaying violet beauregarde from charlie and the chocolate factory

with all of them unable to breathe from laughing so much, you prodded soobin for an explanation

“well… after i made that comment, you kinda stopped talking to me and when i was going to apologize, you avoided me so i assumed you hated me and thought it was best to leave you alone…”

oh.

okay.

so you spent your last moments in high school believing that he disliked you

and he didn’t?

mhm. that’s fine. okay. yeah.

beomgyu, who was finally calm enough to speak, pointed between you

“wait… so… you didn’t hate him?”

and you shook your head

“i was hurt at first and needed some time but i didn’t hate him? i could never. it was quite the opposite really”

yeonjun let out a low whistle.

“perhaps we should leave you guys to talk this out.”

beomgyu gasped. “no? absolutely not! it’s just getting good.”

someone get beomgyu some popcorn

he was hastily yanked away with the group, leaving you and soobin alone in the spot where the miscommunication first took place

you could still hear beomgyu’s cries of protest in the distance

it was silent between the two of you for a brief moment

neither of you really knew how to start

until finally, the curiosity overwhelmed you and the silence was broken

me and the silence are the same fr 😔

“why was the idea of dating me so repulsive to you?”

soobin was stunned by the bluntness of your question, his face conveying surprise.

“i-i really wasn’t.”

“then why did you act so disgusted?”

grill him bae! like he’s a steak! grill him!

soobin looks perplexed for a moment and then his phone dings

you almost can’t believe the audacity of this man as he pulls out his phone to check the text

and then, his shoulders slump and he slides the phone over to you which displays a notification from taehyun

‘tell them the truth, i don’t mind.’

huh?

“taehyun had a crush on you back then… he had confided in me and i didn’t want to upset him…”

taehyun had a crush on you?

not you collecting txt like infinity stones

your head was starting to pound

“why didn’t he ever tell me?”

soobin shrugged. “i think it was just a passing crush. he started liking someone else a couple months later.”

thinking back, there was a period of time where taehyun had acted different towards you

you had noticed his lingering gazes and ignored them, chalking them up as nothing significant

and suddenly, his silence during the teasing made a lot of sense

“so… you weren’t repulsed by me?”

soobin shook his head, now looking rather shy

“it was quite the opposite. i’ve always found you quite spectacular.”

spectacular 🤓

“i’m really sorry for avoiding you.”

“me too, and im especially sorry for acting repulsed by you… though if you’d let me, i’d love to make it up to you?”

soobin was timid, his shoulders hunching as the words nervously slipped out of his mouth

you cheeks burned, but you tried to rein in your hopefulness, the last thing you needed was another miscommunication

“how would you do that?”

“well, i’d love to take you on a date if you’d let me… and then many more after that if you’ll have me.”

his question strikes a chord deep within you, instantly soothing away the torment of the past and restoring a spirit of hope that maybe you could be something more

in that moment, the october breeze felt like a scorching wave of lava, scorching your skin

“i think i’d really like that.”

[obsolescent]

You’re gonna hate seeing my name every time you open this app from how much I do and will resquest you 😭

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJG8npPb/

Here me out. This but^

Single mother y/n with a kid and ghost just came back from a mission and needed to buy something for his small house and sees y/n struggling to pick some heavy things up while her kid keeps laughing and saying everything like the girl in the video. i have so many other requests I’d love to because you’re writing is probably my favorite /srs. hope you have a nice end of the month. Love ya 🩷

The Necessity of Saints

Part Two (NSFW)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Ough, I had fun writing this out. Love these prompts so much, you don't understand! I will never tire of requests I promise, they fill me with so much motivation and I'm so happy I'm one of your favorites, that means so much to me!! I hope you enjoy this and hope you’re having the best month!! I am not opposed to writing a spicier second part to this, just let me know ♡ Once again I am thinking about Simon showing off his muscles and being happy to help someone in need.

Content warnings: Feminine reader, reader uses she/her pronouns and uses mom, your daughter is named Rhea.

“Good Lord, why does wood have to be so HEAVY,” you grunt out, trying unsuccessfully to pull the wooden beam out of the pile. Your kid stands off to the side, stifling her giggles with her hand, finding much enjoyment in your predicament. You stand up and stretch your limbs, getting ready for another go at it. You take a deep breath, bending with your knees, and begin pulling again, with more force behind it. 

Sweating dripping off your brow, you continue to tug at the piece of wood, pleading with it to just MOVE. “Can someone help my mama?” Your kid finally yells out, causing you to whirl towards her with a panicked look on your face. “Rhea!” You hiss, seeing your phone in her hands, recording your ordeal. “Please, someone, my mama won’t ask for help and she needs it!” Rhea exclaims, drawing out the end of ‘please’. 

“Stop filming me struggling, dammit!” You try to contain your own laughter, hurrying back to continue pulling, hoping to finally get it to move before anyone hears your daughter’s yelling, not wanting an encounter with a random stranger. Rhea continues to hoot and holler, hoping to garner attention to you both. Your face now red from a mixture of stifled laughter, exertion, and embarrassment.

“What’s all this, then?” A gravelly voice booms out, halting yours and your daughter's movements. You both turn towards the voice, finding a large, tall man, standing off to the side, hands on his hips. His brown eyes glitter with what looks to be amusement, probably been watching quietly for a while. Your ears burn, straightening up and wiping your hands off on your shirt. 

“I’m so sorry to bother your shopping, please ignore my–” “My mama won’t ask for help and she needs it! Please help her!” Your daughter cuts you off. You put your hands over your face, groaning. “Is that all?” He asks, raising a blond eyebrow at your kid. She nods, finally putting the phone down after succeeding in her mission. 

“Alright then, let’s have at it,” British accent now noticeable after the initial shock, he walks over to the wood you’re standing in front of, easily lifting a beam into his arms. “How many?” He asks, looking towards you. You stand there in shock, at how easily he was able to lift it, to his bulging muscles now able to be seen through his shirt. 

“J-just that one, sir. I need it cut into three 6-inch pieces, though,” You stutter out, realizing your gaze had been on him for too long. That glint in his eyes doesn’t go away, you assume he noticed the staring. “To the wood-cutting area, then?” He turns, walking off in the direction of the wood-cutting services. You and your daughter share a look before scurrying after him.

Once you arrive, you tell the associate what you want, and they begin the process. The three of you stand off to the side while they cut, looking over at the man, you begin speaking. “I really appreciate what you did for us, thank you…?” “Simon,” He offers his name, you giving your own and your daughter’s. “Thank you, Simon. Is there anything I can do to repay you for helping?” You ask, reaching for your bag. “Don’t worry about it,” He grunts out, walking forward to grab the pieces they’ve finished with, loading them onto a cart. 

Once they’re done, he wheels the cart towards the checkout, paying for the wood. “Oh! Sir, you don’t have to–""Don’t worry about it, love,” He says again, adding ‘love’ to the end of this one, causing your cheeks to redden. Once the transaction is complete, he pulls the cart outside. “The car park is pretty big, you can pull your car up to the entrance, I’ll load it.” He says, You nod, you and Rhea walk quickly to your car, getting inside and buckling in. 

You pull your car around to the front of the store, opening the trunk. He begins loading the wood inside, making quick work of the now smaller pieces. Once done, he comes around to your side of the car. You roll your window down, going to thank him again, when he holds his hand up. “Could’ve hurt yourself. Just ask for help next time, yeah? Don’t have to do everything alone,” He says, causing your mouth to fall open, like he read your mind. “But, if you’re privy to certain help, you can always give me a ring,” He hands over a card with a number on it, with his full name, ‘Simon Riley’.

“Thank you, Simon. I’ll be sure to let you know,” You say, bashfully. He smirks, “Have a lovely day, you two,” He says, before walking back inside the store. You roll your window up, pulling away from the entrance. You’re driving for a bit, both silent, before Rhea finally speaks up, “He was really cute, and nice. You should text him.” You sputter. “Rhea! I have no idea who he even is–""Get to know him! He was, like, totally checking you out, and so were you,” She says, looking over at your blushing face. “I don’t know…” You trail off. You hadn’t done much dating in a very long time. Not having much time for it between your daughter and work. Now that Rhea is a teenager, maybe you could have some time to find a relationship?

Seemingly reading your mind (ya’ll gotta stop doing that), she adds, “I’m old enough to watch myself, go have some fun!” You roll your eyes, a smile forming on your face. Maybe he wouldn’t be against seeing you under different circumstances?

Arriving home and maneuvering the now much easier to handle wooden pieces, you set them in a pile inside the garage, for your upcoming project. Once inside and settled in, you pull out the card and contemplate what you’ll say. You add his number to your contacts and pull up a message screen for him. You let him know it’s you and add,

‘I would really like to get to know you more, if you’re not opposed?’

A few minutes later, he responds.

‘Not at all opposed, love. Just let me know what time is best for you x’

[xekstrin]

Xekstrin Arbitrary Writing Rules V2

1) Sentence variety and paragraph variety is important.

Quick and dirty fix: make sure the FIRST WORD of EVERY SENTENCE and EVERY PARAGRAPH doesn’t repeat too much. (Some repetition is inevitable as you will see later.)

“Huh???” I hear you say.

Ex:

Here’s my example text. Here is another sentence. Here once again is another line of text and even though it has a different length (good) it still starts with the same word and it repeats a bit too much.

Here we have a whole new paragraph, a completely new sentence with commas and everything. However it still starts with the same word. Here you might say, “but I’m repeating it on purpose!” Repeating on purpose is usually fine. Repeating unthinkingly means you aren’t diving into your edits deep enough.

Not a hard and fast rule by any means, but it starts you on the path to thinking more closely about your work down to the itty bitty details.

2) Adverbs are fine… depending on what you want to do.

“It’s not like she loved me or anything.” Sally laughed sadly.

This is a fine brief sentence that still tells us a lot! We can move on to other things while still keeping Sally in mind.

But! If you want to linger for whatever reason… give us some physical details. Tell us what things feel like and sound like. Describe what is happening.

“It’s not like she loved me or anything.” Sally choked when she laughed. Tears were streaming down the distraught lines of her face. Every inch of her was pale and cold to the touch.

Both sections can be equally sad, depending on the context. More words does not mean more emotion! It merely is a tool to let the reader sit with something a bit longer than they might otherwise. You can then try to control the speed a reader is introduced to things, and set up a “wham line” by forcing them to linger somewhere else a bit.

Not every line has to be a poem. Unless that’s your thing. Use your best judgment! Every writer is different and will want to write a scene differently.

3) Said is not dead

I see you, trying to replace every other “said” with “exclaimed” “shrieked”“hollered” “hooted” “ejaculated” or otherwise use another verb to replace “said” for no other reason than you are trying to avoid “said”.

At first this rule seems to go against rule number one, not to repeat words. But “said” (or “says”) is a special word.

Why?

“Said” is effectively invisible.

Readers tend to skim or skip it on instinct. When you use any word OTHER than “said”, however, you are forcing them to make a brief pause and absorb this. Are you wasting their time? Is it notable or otherwise important that this character is doing anything other than saying their words? Use your best judgement.

4) Shi shi shi shi shi shi shi… who is “she”?

We’ve all seen that chinese poem about Shi eating the lions, right?

Writing a lesbian threesome feels a lot like this poem. When in doubt, even if you feel like it breaks rule number one, just use a character’s name rather than an epithet (“the long-haired girl” “the shorter girl”.)

This is less of a problem with het romance but still worth mentioning.

Epithets have their place, if you’re doing it with intention. If you want to talk about swift-footed Achilles, you know your story better than I do! Just don’t use epithets as a backup because you’re scared to repeat yourself. Readers can smell your fear.

5) Readers can smell your fear

Don’t force it. Don’t write for an imaginary audience that is out to punish you. Don’t write defensively in case someone misunderstands. We can smell your fear and it distracts from the story. Trust in your story!

6) Words mean things.

Flexing your vocabulary is sexy. Using big words incorrectly is the writing equivalent of slapping yourself in the face and smugly saying “see how strong I am?”

7) No one knows your story but you. This is both good and bad.

When you are writing, you are trying to show off what’s in your head. The reader does not, CANNOT, see what you see. Mind-reading is impossible.

It’s YOUR job to immerse them in your fantasy as completely as possible. Be clear, be vivid, and engage all the senses. They should know how your fantasy feels, how it looks, what emotions are wrapped up inside it, how it smells, and what it sounds like. What it means.

But also you’re not gonna please everybody so you should just do what you like anyway.

Bye!

[thegoblinboy]

So like I am not huge on prison aus, it’s not my personal cup of tea but I just watched Shawshank redemption (and idk if anyone else gets like this where they see a movie and idea fill your head but that’s what happened to me)

A scared, barely twenty year old Eddie Munsons life ends with the clack of the gavel. The eyes of the judge staring and judging down at him, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as the guards on either side of him move forward and take his left and right arm.

He’s in shock.

He didn’t do it.

Eddie Munsons world ends when he’s stripped naked, sprayed down, ass checked and tossed into a cell with his new identity in his hands. The hoots and hollers of other men echoing into his cell as he puts a brave face on.

His father didn’t raise a bitch, even though he barely raised him at all.

Eddie becomes what society wants him to be, after so many years of trying to prove them wrong he becomes the crook that everyone has seen since his birth. Not necessarily a monster but not necessarily an angel either.

The first two years in prison he finds himself in solitary confinement for numerous reasons. Looking at a guard wrong, making the wardens breakfast wrong, getting into a fight, caught fucking around, or his personal favorite talking too much.

The next two years he becomes pretty popular amongst fellow cellmates. Known to be able to entertain when things got boring. Not in a sexual way, as much as that sounded like an innuendo Eddie Munson actually made everyone laugh. With his story telling, jokes or charm. His talkative nature earning friends amongst the crowds.

Which was a good thing, he was living here for life.

Eddie’s twenty five when his world starts spinning again. His brown eyes landing on a newbie. A man whose name was currently blasted all over the radios.

Steve Harrington was a peculiar man. Walked around like he owned the place, something that most men around here didn’t appreciate. Whenever his eyes landed on Eddie, his stomach did flips. The guys joked about how he was pretty much drooling, twirling his hair and kicking his feet all at once when prissy boy was around.

It was no secret that Eddie had a thing for men, it was also no secret that Eddie never fucked around with anyone who didn’t give consent.

It must have been some sick joke from one of the guys, who must have pulled some strings to get the joke done. Eddie had a bunk mate already, one that slept above him and had ever since he got there. So when it was announced he was transferring out Eddie was suspicious.

His suspicions were answered when a certain brunette landed in his cell.

Neither of the say anything to each other the first three nights of sharing the cell. Eddie had taken over the top bunk, an unspoken rule that whoever was there first got it.

Steve slept on the bottom and didn’t put much fight to switching. It’s on the fourth night when the radio silence was broken. It was one of the guys from the cell next to them.

“Do you think they’re silently fucking in their frank?” Whoever had said it purposely made it come out louder so that both men could hear it.

“Nah, you know how loud Eddie gets his men. He’s been caught how many times by the guards?” Another voice returns, it’s further down the hall and Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up frank! Or I’ll make sure the guards hear you choking on my fist!”

“Is that a promise pretty boy?!” Laughter goes through out the hall. Eddie’s rolling his eyes before he moves to glance down at the man below him. Who seemed a little red in the face and a bit scared, this was the first time Eddie’s ever seen him hold any obvious emotion to his face.

“Don’t worry sweetheart you’re not my type if I ain’t yours.” Eddie assures. Watching the others shoulders relax a bit.

Eddie’s hair is falling forward, hanging down as he grins a little. Moving his hand forward to the other. Careful not to fall as he holds his balance with the other. “Names Eddie.”

Steve hesitated before he moves forward and shakes his hand carefully. His hands smooth like he’s never worked a day of his life.

“Steve.”

“I know.” Eddie grins as he asks, “so how long you in for. Need to know how long I got before I get a new face coming in here.”

“Oh- uh two years.” Steve answers gently.

“Oh that’s a cake walk, you’ve got this princess.” He winks before he moves to lay back on his own bed.

“How long you have?”

“I’m here until I stop breathing Stevie,” Eddie chuckles as he messes with the guitar pick he had. Scratching at it gently as he listens below him carefully.

“Oh.” A pause, “what did you do?”

“They say I killed a cheerleader,” Eddie answers easily. No longer bothered by answering that question. There wasn’t any point in trying to fight anymore. He was stuck in here forever anyway.

“Did you?”

Eddie snorts gently, “Nope. But lesson number one darling, we’re all innocent in here. Never gonna know who’s guilty until you get to know them, and even then that’s difficult.”

Silence falls over them once more before Steve asks, “how long have you been in here?”

“Going on five years,” Eddie moves and hops down from his cell. Moving to the built in shelf they had and grabs one of his comics.

“That’s a long time,”

“That it is.”

After that conversation things went more smoothly between the two of them. Casual conversations here and there, neither of them bothered bringing up the jokes that other cell mates made about them.

They don’t start to really get close until a year later. When Steve starts to grow out of his own shell and not the manufactured one his father made him. Eddie can feel the slight movement of his life going again, moving a few centimeters every couple of months.

It’s not until eight months after that when he starts feeling alive again. The hidden kisses, the silent moans and gentle touches of Steve Harrington fuel every beat of his heart.

It’s close to six years since Eddie’s been in here, and now he can confidently say that his father didn’t raise no bitch, because he didn’t raise him at all. It’s Wayne Munson who didn’t raise a bitch, he raised a lover.

And boy does Eddie love Steve Harrington. Every time the others hand carefully slides into his pants he feels like he can explode in more ways then just the obvious one. The way he tilts his head back and lets his mouth fall open, he doesn’t let a sound leave his mouth. Not wanting this place to claim anything else from him.

Though it’s not the prison that ruins it, it’s time. Steve’s last night comes way faster than either of them had expected. Both of them lay in the bottom bunk, carefully holding each other. Stars started to dim in both of their eyes as they talk about everything they wished they could do together.

Neither man knows what to do with themselves.

Eddie’s world stops spinning again when Steve leaves, his life leaving with him as he walks out of the cell and doesn’t return. He comes to visit once or twice but it hurts both of them more than it does any good.

Two years pass and it’s Eddie’s eighth anniversary of being in this cell. Cellmates coming and going.

It’s when a man comes to meet him when things start to change. Claiming to work for the innocence project who has gotten evidence (from another case similar to his) that proves Eddie didn’t do it. Eddie doesn’t know all the basics but he does end up walking out the door of that prison two years later. After a lengthy legal battle.

It’s been ten years and Eddie’s now thirty and unsure what to do with himself. Finding a job and place was difficult before he finds himself back at home with Wayne Munson.

Eddies life and world begin again when he hears the knock on his trailer door at the age of thirty five. When his eyes meet Steve Harringtons, whose eyes now have crow feet.

And as they land in his bed minutes later like they were at their prime Eddie lets the world, his world, Steve Harrington hear him for who he truly is.

[britany1997]

hello hello! i would love to request watching wrestling with paul which leads to play fighting him and either fluff or smut is fine. it’s up to you! ily & i hope you have a good day 🩵🩶

Pinned

Ofc I can write this for you! Hope you love it💕💕

Note: I wrote this before I realized you didn’t ask for Marko in this request lol😭 but I know he’s your favorite so I hope you don’t mind I left it as is!

Paul x GN Reader x Marko

Warnings: spice but no smut (Minors under 16 DNI),

You sighed from your place on the ratty couch in the middle of your boyfriends’ cave, faced with another night of losing the ‘what are we watching tonight’ coin toss.

Marko had to be cheating. You were convinced he’d somehow been using a coin with heads on both sides. How very two faced of him.

Paul plopped down next to you on the couch, jostling you from your thoughts. “Don’t look so down babe,” he said while nudging you with his elbow, “who knows, you might even like wrestling.”

You snorted, “doubt it.”

Paul’s smile slipped just a little, causing a pang of guilt to run through you. Hurting Paul was like kicking a puppy, it never felt good.

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder and pouting, “it’s just…we never watch anything I wanna watch.”

Paul placed his head on top of yours while you rested on him, “you can pick next time baby I promise.”

He moved to whisper in your ear, “I’ll hide Marko’s coin, don’t worry.”

You weren’t sure if Paul could actually pull one over on Marko, but a smile tugged at the ends of your lips anyway. Your boyfriend was too cute.

Your sweet moment with Paul was interrupted by Marko vaulting over the back of the couch and landing on your other side.

He draped an arm over your shoulder, a cocky smirk painted onto his face as he grabbed the remote. “Ready to watch some wrestling baby?” he asked.

You glared.

“What? ‘The world is watching,’” he quoted in an exaggerated tone, only serving to frustrate you further.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you grumbled while Paul’s frown grew. You knew you were being kind of a brat, but you couldn’t stand Marko’s smug face.

He winked at you as the WWE intro began to play. You couldn’t have stopped your eyes from rolling if you tried.

You felt your eyes glazing over as you reached hour three of non-stop wrestling. Made worse, of course, by constant hoots and hollers from your boyfriends as they watched from the edge of their seats.

You knew you should be patient, you knew you should be a good sport, but three hours? Enough was enough!

You groaned, “this is so stupid!” you accused as you watched a man in a Speedo throw his elbow into another man, “you know all this is fake right?”

As soon as those words left your lips, both boys turned to you. “Not true!” Marko argued, his brow furrowed in frustration.

You scoffed, “you don’t really believe that right?”

You gestured at the screen as dominik mysterio was knelt above Ricochet, grinding him into the mat as Ricochet’s legs were spread up in the air.

“C’mon! This Ricochet guy could totally just kick him off! There’s no way he couldn’t get free from that hold,” you argued.

Paul raised his eyebrow and looked across you to try and meet Marko’s eyes.

Marko was obviously not happy with your little outburst as Paul had to clear his throat to get him to stop glaring daggers.

Paul smirked at Marko before jerking his head to motion at you.

Marko shot him a confused look.

Paul sighed, his eyes rolling back into his head.

While you were distracted, hand slowly slithering to Marko’s lap in an attempt to steal the remote, Paul desperately tried to explain his plan. He pointed at the tv, gestured between him and Marko, then gestured to you with a wink.

The curly haired blond’s eyebrows raised in understanding as he worked out what Paul had been trying to say. He moved the remote to the edge of the couch just before your fingers could wrap around it.

Marko sighed dramatically, “maybe you’re right baby.”

“I am?” You asked as your face morphed in surprise, there were few things your boyfriend hated more than admitting he was wrong.

“Mhmm,” he hummed slyly, “it probably is all fake…which is why it should be easy for you to get out of Paul’s grip.”

“What?” your brain didn’t register what Marko had said until Paul pounced on you, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you in the air.

Your mouth fell open in shock, “Hey! Wait no! This isn’t fair!”

Your protesting was silenced as Paul pinned you to the floor, your legs splayed in a V, just as Ricochet’s had been.

You kicked and struggled to get him off you, but it was no use. His hands were on top of yours pressing them firmly to your chest and securing you to the ground. His body was wedged between your legs, keeping them apart and keeping you under his control.

You threw your head back in frustration as your struggling proved to be pointless. Paul smirked down at you, one of his hands sliding off your chest to grip your jaw and turn your face towards his.

“Wouldn’t mind having you like this more often baby,” he flirted.

Your cheeks flushed red as you realized the nature of your position, Paul firmly planted between your open legs, his hand enveloping yours… You were completely restrained and at his mercy.

Paul slithered closer to your face as he flipped through your mind, searching for all the things you wanted him to do to you like this.

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from your chest and holding them down on either side of your head.

Marko had had enough of watching. He slowly slunk down from his place on the couch to lift your head into his lap. He ran his hands through your hair, tugging gently every now and again.

Your heart raced as they manhandled you. You could have sunk into the floor from embarrassment when a soft whimper left your lips.

Paul pulled back a bit so Marko could lean down over your face, “watching wrestling might not be your thing, but it seems you like when we’re a little rough hmm?” the curly haired blond whispered.

Paul pressed a kiss to Marko’s lips before squeezing your thighs, “we’d rather play with you than watch TV any day baby.”

Paul’s smile grew as he stared down at you, “look at you, so helpless and cute,” he shot you a mock pout, as he motioned for Marko to take over holding down your arms.

Once Marko’s hands wrapped around your wrists where Paul’s had been, the blond rocker slipped his hands under your shirt, caressing and squeezing the skin.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he toyed with you.

Marko laughed softly to himself, “maybe if you’re good and still for us, we’ll reward you.”

Your heart pumped in your chest as your vision was clouded by their predatory smiles. You were in for a long night.

Maybe wrestling wasn’t so bad after all.

Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @6lostgirl6 @pixielostboy @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @lostboys1987girl @consuming-karma @flower-crowned-lady @kurt-nightcrawler @mickkmaiden333 @arenpath @gothamslostboy @softchonk @memphiscity69 @walmartfairy69 @bitchyexpertprincess @solobagginses @ria-coolgirl @dwaynesluscioushair @warrior-616 @dwaynedelight @vampirefilmlover @rynsfandomsfun @arbesa-mind @peachpixiesstuff @aspenreaper

[weebsinstash]

Do you think Nolan or Thragg would ever be a GirlDad (TM)? Like, I can imagine Nolan finding out his wife is pregnant with a girl, and he thinks he's going to treat her the same as Mark, but then he holds her in his arms for the 1st time and all of a sudden she's Daddy's Little Princess and he's teaching her how to subjugate her enemies during her "princess tea parties" and they're both wearing tiaras cuz "Please daddy?" with puppy dog eyes.

Hooting hollering howling and slapping my knee because I never finished the goddamn post but if you take a gander over here in my drafts

SAME BRAINCELL WOO WOO

That gif is his response to you asking when you get to date lmaooo

I almost wrote like something short for it, and I kind of am constantly bouncing around between "Do I want this to be short or long or what" but I can just imagine daughter Reader and Nolan going at it "you just don't want me to date because you want me to save myself for a VILTRUMITE man, don't you?! Humans aren't good enough, huh?! I'm 'too good for a human man'?!" And he just loses it and shouts back "you're too good for ANY man, you don't NEED any man, I'M the only man you need, I'M your FATHER!!" Like. Nolan is one of those super dare I use the term emotionally incestuous yandere dads

Like. Ok I guess this is a throwaway spoiler because I would be absolutely fucking shocked if they bothered to animate this, it's such a small deal, but like. Idk. Idk. How do I phrase this. "There's another character in the series who also has to deal with their daughter wanting to have A Ho Phase and Daddy Doesn't Like It" and for the love of fucking god Nolan and Thragg wouldn't let you date for absolute shit. No dating, no fucking, you are, their pure innocent sweet but also savage little fierce warrior princess and you are untouched by no man like the goddess Artemis to them.

God. Having a yelling screaming argument where you're just so upset, "OH YEAH WELL YOU KNOW YOUR CHANCELLORS SON, THE ONE I MET THE OTHER WEEK? YEAH, YEAH, I FUCKED HIM, I FUCKED HIM IN MY BED, IN THE HOUSE YOU PROVIDE FOR ME, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, DADDY" and that's like OH MY GOD you've cut them so deep it's like actual fucking sacrilege to them. The EMOTIONAL DAMAGE. Fists are nothing knives are nothing bombs are nothing BUT HEARING THAT THEIR BABY GIRL GOT DEFLOWERED? It's like a fucking DEBUFF. Imagine you scream at Nolan about how you sucked off a Viltrumite HIS AGE and he just PHYSICALLY STUMBLES, HAS TO REGAIN HIS BALANCE, HAND OVER HIS HEART

And Thragg is, obsessively hollering about how you're the Grand Regents daughter and you're of too high status for any of these males, just screaming at you, "WHY DID I CATCH THAT MAN'S TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH? HE IS BENEATH YOU" and you hit him with "YEAH HE WAS BENEATH ME, AND BEHIND ME, AND ON TOP OF ME--" and Thragg gets so fucking RED, I feel like he's one of those wall punching dads. He won't ever hit you but he might manhandle-grab you and physically intimidate you at times. Thragg can just give you The Look and you INSTANTLY know you're in for a punishment, or that he's absolutely furious, and you're on your knees, "Please Daddy I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was angry, please don't be upset with me, i-i-i just dont like you being disappointed in me, i love you and i want us to get along 🥺" and like. Obviously it works. But. He's not mad at YOU, he's mad at THE GUY, so, as cute and effective as buttering him up or even just genuinely being afraid and pleading earnestly is, you're not his target. The guy's still getting, tortured and maimed or something. But thanks for telling Father you love him, that'll perk him up during his next planet raid ❤️

BUT NO LITERALLY ACTUALLY Nolan with his knees bent in a little tiny plastic chair nearly on the ground with his little fake cup of tea as he sits there having "tea" with you and your Princess Ladybug doll and he's all, "now sweetheart, what did we learn today?" "That if we defeat our enemies, we should also take out their family and their allies, so they don't come back for vengeance?" "Yes sweetie, that's so good, you're so smart 🥰"

Nolan/Thragg getting in a physical fight and they could be getting maimed and disembowled or taking punches and it's like whatever, they're still chilling, but, do some shit like, knock their treasured keychain out of their pocket that you gave them or an embroidered handkerchief or just a little personal photo of you they keep on them gets ruined in the scuffle, oh, oh, NOW they're fucking pissed, NOW they've got some serious unfinished business in this fight and their opponents get DEMOLISHED and they're sitting there pouting with their broken/ruined thing you gave them because even if they got a new one from you, this one still had memories and sentimental value

I feel like similar to parents keeping baby teeth, Thragg would keep things like, first weapon you ever trained with, memorial photo of your first spar with another child that you won, your first flightsuit, a toddlers toy that was crushed on accident because you suddenly got your powers and had far too much strength than you knew what to do with. And Nolan, if he's raising you on Earth with Debbie, he's at all your school functions, whether it's dancing or sports, and if you aren't in those things, he encourages you HEAVILY (it totally isn't. Training or anything or making sure you're staying fit and active for anything in the future hahaha). He's taking photos and cheering in the crowds. He wants your art in his office. He wants to play games with you once you get your powers. He buys a case for any medals and trophies to proudly display.

Also like do you have any idea how much of an actual phenomenon it is, I've seen videos of it, where dads basically have infinitely more sympathy for their new daughters when they already have sons. I distinctly remember a video where a man was holding his second-born, his first daughter, and he was like weeping because he was feeling intense empathy for his infant daughter because she was crying and looking at him as he held her, and the wife was filming and it was captioned "he never did this with our son" and like. LMAO, THAT'S NOLAN WITH YOU WHEN YOU CRY. THAT'S THRAGG SUDDENLY GIVING A FUCK ABOUT ONLY YOU SPECIFICALLY AFTER LIKE TONS OF KIDS.

Daughter Reader would definitely be their spoiled little princess but you're also their spoiled little princess under very specific terms of CONTAINMENT AND SURVEILLANCE. You've got curfews, they need to know who your friends are, what families do they come from, what do their parents do. They'll treat you like a princess but they'll also socially isolate you from others and. Basically control your life. And if you ever try and pull away from Dear Old Dad, well. Viltrumites can have some pretty extreme reactions. Will Nolan have to disfigure that boy you won't stop talking to? Will Thragg have to build a pretty little cell so that his adult daughter doesn't sneak out to drink and fuck unknown men? That's up to how much of an obedient faithful daughter you want to be. Don't make them do something only you will regret ❤️

Jfjfkfm EDIT; I ALSO TOTALLY MISSES YOU SENT THIS

No but absolutely you're sitting there in your little costume jewelry as you twist a barbie doll and wring her like a towel "for disobeying High Queen Princess Barbie" and here's Thragg, "that's very good. The chain of command should always be respected" and you just happily start chattering away in that "im a small child and I don't know how to keep secrets or lie" kind of way

"Then Teddy Mason from down the street chased me into the woods and I kept telling him to stop but he kept using a stick to pull up my skirt so I grabbed him by the leg and threw him up into the air so he went SPLAT when he came back down!!" And you bang your little hand down on your table and Thragg is nodding in approval and Nolan just comes in looking mortified because he has no idea why Thragg is there until he. Sees that you're putting all kinds of stupid plastic hair clips in the man's hair and even his mustache and giggling and putting stickers on him And Thragg Is Just Totally Letting It Happen. Just totally casual, "Ah Nolan, you're finally here" and stands up to talk to Nolan with you in his arms or on his shoulder or just, hovering around him continuing to play with all the hair clips while your very horrified father is wondering what alternate dimension he just stumbled into to see the Grand Regent so. Calm.

The two men go into the other room "to have a grownup talk" and are they talking about the invasion? About Viltrum? No, Thragg is demanding to see all your baby photos as Nolan starts pulling out all his photo albums with absolute glee

[gxdsfavgal]

Step Aside

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Kook!fem!Reader

Warning: arguing, just a very short blurb that could potentially be a short series, not edited

-

-

There was a party happening this afternoon, I didn’t know who’s it was but everyone knows I’m up for anything.

I got invited by Kelce, my first friend on the island. He taught me the in’s and out’s of the island, in his words I am basically a native now.

But all I know is Pogues and Kooks is a thing here. I’m still not used to it, not used to how Kooks looks down on Pogues.

Anyways, I had a busy day with helping my parents with some paperwork and meetings but I definitely needed a break from reading fine print.

I got ready for the party at Cannyhill? Someplace that ended in ‘hill’. I just knew it wasn’t that far, and that it was definitely a Kook party.

The sun was still beaming even though it was late afternoon, so I decided that shorts and a regular top was the way to go. People here dress differently for these types of parties, designer all around even though they know it’s going to be covered in vomit later on in the night.

I quickly grabbed my things, spraying myself with my signature scent, and left in my car that I always dreamt of when I was younger. 

I sped down the streets with the salty wind in my face as I followed the GPS to the address Kelce sent me. 

As I arrived, I immediately could tell the vibe of this party. It was Kook Central, filled with expensive jungle juice and collared shirts. The loud music was definitely found through social media, because they definitely did not grow up around trap music.

I parked my car on the side of the road for easy access if this party turns out a bust. I walked through the pathway and into the grassy lawn where everyone was at. The music was loud and so was people’s cheers once they saw me.

“Heyyy! Look who’s here!” Kelce and his friends crowded me.

“Finally got out of that damn office.” I joked to them as one of the girls handed me a red solo cup, which I accepted and chugged.

Everyone else waved at me and said their ‘hellos’. 

I began to walk around and talk to the others there, creating conversation about parents and the beach club. Normal “Kook” things I guess that’s what they call it here in the OBX.

“So yeah, my dad got me Hermes sandals from his trip to New York but I hated the color so I just gave them to some lady on the main land.” a random girl whined about to me and her boyfriend ignoring the repetitive story.

“Oh wow. That is so sweet of you.” sarcasm flowed out with my words as my smile didn’t drop once.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Kelce apologized to the couple I was talking to as I pulled me away. “Forgot to introduce you to the host.”

“Lead me to it” I followed behind him as he led me throughout the house, up until I reached the balcony that looked over the party.

There was only a few people up here, exclusive, seemed like you needed to be on the guest list to be up above everyone else.

“Rafe.” Kelce hollered.

A tan and tall body turned towards me, his arm around a shorter girl. Once both of them turned around I was able to see who the girl was.

“Sofia.” I nodded towards her with a friendly smile, and she nodded back with a awkward one.

“Who are you?” Rafe snapped. 

First red flag, having an attitude in the first interaction.

“Y/N Y/L/N” I held out my hand with a smile, hoping to change his tone.

He scoffed and ignored my handshake.

“So what’s got everyone hooting and hollering for you?” he twisted his neck, arm falling off of Sofia’s shoulder.

“That’s a good question. It’s weird, people call me the Kook Queen? I’m new so I do-”

“Kook Queen?” he laughed out loud, clutching his chest as if he was going into a heart attack.

“I mean she basically is the Kook Queen.” Sofia said softly with a chuckle from beside Rafe, which earned a hard stare.

His face was in shock, his eyebrows furrowed, and neck tilted.

“Dude. Her like great great great grandfather-

“I am a descendant of founder of the Outerbanks. It’s nice to see that you guys know your history here.” I laughed to his face while lightly smacking Kelce’s shoulder.

“Hey! Kook Queen has arrived!” I heard from behind me.

“Barry!” I walked up to him to give a light hug.

“How the fuck do you know her?” Rafe asked harshly.

“Calm down Country Club, she lives at Corolla.” Barry laughs as his hand rested on my shoulder. “A lot has changed when you went on your little vacay.”

“Holy shit.” Rafe mumbled under his breath.

“Big ass house ain’t it. Rich ass mofos.” Barry clapped as he left to go back inside Tannyhill.

My head turned quickly at the shadow in the corner of my eye, Rafe’s shadow that was very quick and heavy.

He cleared his throat and bent down to my level. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Rafe Cameron.” he put on a fake friendly smile as his hand was reached out for me to shake.

I happily took his hand and shook it firmly. “Nice to finally meet you Mister Cameron, it seems we have a scheduled meeting coming up soon.” I gave him a smile and a pat on his back. His eyes seemed to almost bulge out of his skull.

[valiantstarlights]

[The Proposal AU] The Bachelorette Party

Previous Chapter: The Babymaker Blanket

I told @valeriianz I imagined Corinthian being the stripper character in this AU, and this is me having no self-control because I just started writing about it as soon as I said it. 😂 (Also tagging @voukkake because this AU is inspired by her art. 😊)

The song playing at Dream's bach party is Pony by Ginuwine because it's the most stripper-y song I could think of rn 🤷‍♀️

CW: Stripper Corinthian, strictly hobsexual Dream, tabletop games, and as a treat, seductive Dream (towards Hob) 😏

"Bye, Hob!" Jo calls as she drags a very confused Dream behind her. "We're going to see Cori for Dream's bach party!"

Dream hears a crash from the kitchen as Hob rushes towards them, still holding a potato peeler, looking wild-eyed and frantic. "You're going to see Corinthian? For Dream's bach party?"

"That's literally what I just said," Jo says as she starts to put on her shoes. Dream just stands between them, baffled at Jo's flippancy while Hob looks increasingly apprehensive. "You gone deaf or something?"

"Absolutely not," Hob says. "Dream--"

"--is allowed to have a bach party organized for him even when you declined to have your own," Jo continues. "And besides! I wanna get some calamari from The New Inn after. We'll be back soon." She glances at Dream and smiles innocently. "Or maybe it's just me and Gran who will be back soon."

Dream turns to Hob. "Corinthian?"

"He's a part-time stripper," Hob says.

"A very sexy one," Jo adds. "He might make you rethink marrying my brother, actually."

Dream doesn't know who this Corinthian fellow is, but he definitely, definitely thinks he's not going to cheat on Hob with him. Even if he and Hob aren't actually a real couple.

"I doubt it," Dream says to Jo. "I am quite set on marrying your brother." To Hob, he says, "I will be back soon, my love. Do you wish for me to get you anything while we're out?"

"No," Hob says. There's an intense look in his eyes that Dream doesn't know how to decipher. "I don't need anything else. I just want you to come back home to me."

Dream...doesn't quite know how to handle that, but he's pretty sure the tips of his ears are getting redder by the second.

Jo makes a retching sound. "Both of you are disgusting, but I'm still taking Dream to his own bach party. Now come on! Even Gran is already there!"

"I'll see you soon, love," Hob tells him, and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes are dark, and more than once Dream sees him glancing down towards his lips.

He nods mutely, wishing he had the courage to reciprocate--for pretend purposes, of course, since Jo is considered part of the audience they're trying to sell their romance to--but in the end, he does nothing and just puts on his shoes before turning around to follow Jo out of the house.

--

Corinthian, it turns out, is the flirty waiter from the welcome party.

"I thought you were a waiter," Dream says as Corinthian slowly stalks towards where he's sitting in the middle of the stage, sexily taking his shirt off. Around them, people (mostly the women of the town) started hooting and hollering as Corinthian's muscled upper body is revealed, and he bodyrolls a little to the music, one hand on the backrest of Dream's chair.

"I can be anything you want, dreamboat," Corinthian says huskily. Dream cringes at the nickname, but allows Corinthian to dance nearer. "No? Too on the nose?"

"Quite," Dream says. "Do you really have to do this entire routine?"

Corinthian shrugs, but even that looks seductive when paired with his half-lidded eyes. "It pays the bills better than being a part-time waiter."

Dream sighs as Corinthian starts grinding and humping the air in front of his face. Dream understands that he must endure this for the sake of wedding traditions, but the music playing over the speakers irritates him, with the hook sounding like someone saying 'bleugh' over and over again.

"This doesn't do anything for you?" Corinthian asks. When Dream shakes his head, he chuckles but still very professionally continues his routine. Dream blanches as Corinthian moves his pelvis closer to Dream's face--still not making physical contact, but definitely too close for comfort. "A pity. 'Cause, not gonna lie, dreamboat, you're pretty cute."

Dream lifts his left hand where Hob's fake engagement ring sits prettily on his ring finger.

Corinthian just lifts both his hands up in a peaceful gesture, then starts unbuttoning his trousers and swaying side to side, his long legs straddling Dream's thighs. More hoots and cheers as Corinthian unzips and teasingly runs the tips of his fingers over his bulge.

"Noted," he says, as the song keeps 'bleugh'-ing in the background. "But feel free to spank me anyway. It'll get me extra tips for the night."

Dream doesn't like the way Corinthian winked when he said the word 'tips,' but what he says next is even worse. "And hey, I promise I'll try my best not to cum when you do. Your fingers look so pretty I want to choke on them."

"This is sexual harassment," Dream says futilely as, with a single rip of the fabric, Corinthian tears his trousers off completely and throws the ruined clothing towards the crowd, where Grandma Johanna successfully catches it one-handed.

"Spank me," Corinthian says to Dream as he starts to gyrate in front of his face again, this time while running his hands over his abs and pecs. "Before they inevitably peer-pressure you to do it."

"What?"

Right on cue, a large beefy guy in the crowd yells, "Spank him!"

"Smack his ass!" an old lady's voice adds. Dream recognizes it as Grandma Johanna's friend Betty's voice.

"Give him a proper lap dance, Cori!" Jo shouts.

Corinthian helpfully turns around and bends over, looking over his shoulder coquettishly as he gives Dream quite the view of his toned legs and shapely buttocks. His black thong doesn't really leave much to the imagination, especially when he's bent over like this. "Go on, dreamboat," Cori says, smiling widely and lasciviously. "It's a show. But if it makes it easier for you, spank me like how Hob spanks you."

And. Of course, Dream thinks. Of course it's a show. This entire trip is a show, and he's supposed to be acting like his life depends on it. Because it does. His life--everything he built for himself away from his toxic parents, depends on how well he acts like the beloved fiancee of this small town's golden boy.

Dream imagines Hob, with his lazy morning smiles, and his strong arms, and his capable manner in the workplace. If Hob ever spanks him, it would be because of something Dream had done. Something unforgivably naughty. If Hob ever spanks him in a sexual way, it would be like--

Dream lifts his dominant hand and strikes Corinthian's ass like how he imagines Hob would spank him if he had been a brat all day. It's easy to imagine, because Dream often feels like a brat, especially when he orders Hob around unnecessarily, asking him to get complicated coffee orders and making him work overtime even when Dream is fairly sure he can get the work done by himself. It's just, Hob is so competent and amazing at what he does, and surely two heads are better than one. And if Hob sometimes unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his shirt sleeves up, exposing his forearms--

The sound echoes throughout the room, and Corinthian's small moan of "oh fuck," and "Daddy," is lost as the crowd goes absolutely wild.

--

"Hey," Hob says as Dream enters his bedroom. He's sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, open book held in one hand. He doesn't look like he has made much progress. "Welcome back."

"You shouldn't have stayed up," Dream says as he looks at the wall clock pointedly. It shows that it's well past midnight. He and Jo just got back, with Grandma Johanna returning hours before they did.

Jo had dragged him over to The New Inn to get her calamari and, as luck would have it, it turns out that tonight is game night at the inn--a fact that Johanna definitely knows--and Dream was roped into playing Cards Against Humanity and half a dozen other tabletop games with names like Carcassone, which was probably inspired by the French city with the same name, and Tsuro, which means 'route' in Japanese.

(Jo called him a nerd when he took out his phone to get the English translation of the game's name.)

(And yes, apparently, Corinthian also part-times at The New Inn during game nights, where he becomes the DM to a group playing Dungeons and Dragons. Dream was mortified when Corinthian saunters up to him and leans over to whisper in his ear, "Fancy seeing you here at my other workplace, Daddy Dreamboat.")

(He's pretty sure Jo and everyone at their table heard everything.)

"Yeah, well," Hob says, which isn't much of an answer at all. "How was your party?" he asks, when Dream takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat hook behind the door.

"Exhausting," Dream replies honestly. He didn't think Jo would have that much energy in her body, but apparently, he was wrong. She must have drank more than ten cups of coffee before they went out today.

"Yeah?" Hob says, his voice sounding strangely tight.

"Yes," Dream says. "Your sister has too much energy and the appetite of a blue whale. She must have eaten three family-sized plates of calamari by herself, and beat me thoroughly at Sheriff of Nottingham. It's a pity The New Inn doesn't have Scrabble, or I would have decimated everyone at the table."

"Oh," Hob says, and now he sounds relieved. Dream is too tired to parse out what the tone of his voice meant at the moment, but he will definitely be examining it at a later time. "Yeah, no. I can't beat Jo at Sheriff of Nottingham either. She always knows when I have contraband cards."

Dream huffs a laugh as he goes to the ensuite, keeping the door cracked open a little as he changes his clothes and does his nightly routines. "I managed to smuggle golden apples past her tonight, and she accused me of trying to start a war, which was very nice of her."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Hob says from the bedroom. "Game nights at The New Inn are really fun."

Dream hums and starts washing his face. "I saw a game that looked promising on the shelves, but the owner wouldn't take it down for us to play because Jo already borrowed too many."

"What was the game?"

"Betrayal at House on the Hill."

Hob laughs a full-bellied laugh at that, and the Dream in the mirror blushes and ducks his head at the sound. "Of course it's Betrayal," Hob says. "Remind me to bring you to the New Inn next game night, and I'll play with you."

Dream's hand pauses as he applies his night cream on his face. He knows Hob meant 'I'll play with you' in an innocent way, but the note of warm laughter in his voice made the chill from Dream's bones melt entirely.

It's a sensation he did not feel even when Corinthian explicitly told him he wanted to choke on his fingers while dirty dancing in front of him.

He hurries to finish his nightly routines.

"So?" Hob asks, when Dream had been quiet for too long. "You interested?"

He is, but perhaps not in playing the horror-themed game they're currently talking about. Still, he says, "Yes," and is glad that his voice does not shake, even when his hands do as he arranges the creams and serums in his travel toiletry bag. "The game looks very intriguing."

"If you like that, then I think you'll love the other dark or horror-themed games available at The New Inn. Like Nemesis, which is...a lot, or Gloom, which I think you'll win every time. Or, hey, maybe they still have Unspeakable Words. It's not quite Scrabble, but Jo will agree to play because she adores the little Cthulhu minis."

Dream re-enters the bedroom just then, clad in Hob's old university shirt and his own side split shorts, and watches as Hob's Adam's apple bob as he takes him in. "Will you play with me?"

Hob blinks and his eyes lift from looking at Dream's legs to his face. "Wha--huh?"

Dream smiles. "All the games you mentioned," he says, then crawls into bed--not seductively, he doesn't think he can quite manage that, but slower than usual. More intentional. "Will you play all of them with me? Teach me all the rules and go easy on me?"

"Yeah," Hob says, and shifts a little to make more space for Dream on the bed. Or perhaps to shift the fall of the blankets over his covered lower half. Dream unconsciously licks his lips. "I'll...yeah."

"Then I'm looking forward to it," Dream says. Then, with the courage he lacked earlier that evening, he leans closer and kisses Hob's cheek. "Good night, Hob," he says, lips brushing against Hob's stubble, their breaths mingling together.

"Good night," Hob replies belatedly, when Dream is already lying in bed and has turned on his side so he's facing the windows. He turns off the lamp on his side of the bed and says in the dark, "Sweet Dream."

Dream smiles and subtly nuzzles against his pillow--Hob's pillow, which smells like Hob, and pretends that he's actually resting his head against Hob's strong chest.

He falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

[drunktuesdays]

Often people say, "he would not fucking say that" or "this makes me back button out of a fic" but my question for you as someone who has read everything on Al Gore's green AO3 is, what's something you read in a fanfic that makes you start hooting and hollering for joy? Like what in a fic will activate you immediately and make you go HELL yeah babey let's GO!!! and then you experience an unmatched earthly delight?

ohhhh this is such a good question!!!!!!

as everyone knows, i'll read in basically any fandom indiscriminately--definitely any rpf fandom, but i can't even tell you how much voltron fic i've read without having any real understanding of the canon. mama HAS to read a little romance before she falls asleep, and i am NOT picky about who's doing the romancing.

the thing that will make me absolutely apeshit in any fic of any scenario is a misunderstanding that is just absolutely nailed. like, misunderstandings are my fucking KRYPTONITE and they're so so so hard to do well because the temptation is often to write someone bullheaded, you know. someone who is being given clues and is determinedly ignoring them past the point of believably. i think when people say they hate misunderstandings in fic, they're often talking about that kind of thing--where someone is saying "the sky is green. it's green. i know it's green. i don't care if we're all standing outside and i'm looking up at it. i know it's green." that kind of shit can be sooooo frustrating.

but when someone nails it. my god. when i am able to read something where someone says, "and of course. you know why i'm saying that." and the other person goes very very still. feels a flush rise on the back of his neck. the mortification hot in his veins. you know why he repeats back in his head, cradling each jagged word. you know why. and he know. he knew it even as he hoped--stupid. it was stupid to hope anything different. "yeah," he manages. "sure."

BUT KASPER HE DON'T KNOW. HE DIDN'T KNOW. HE DIDN'T KNOW THE WHOLE TIME. KASPER THE THING HE'S SO SURE THE OTHER PERSON IS SAYING ISN'T RIGHT!! KASPER, HE'S BEEN LOVED AND WANTED AND CHERISHED AND HE THINKS HE'S NOT!!!!!!

hand in hand with that is saying--i really like it when people make a point to describe the physical effects a feeling has on the person's body rather than just naming the feeling. i activate BIG time when i'm reading about someone's blood pressure or their muscles tensing, or sweat at their temples rather than "he was stressed" or "he was upset."

@vivathewilddog and i often talk about the chuck palahniuk "thought verbs" essay which both of us were really influenced by. my FAVORITE style of writing now cuts way down "he thought" which really does make such a huge difference in the IMPACT of everything you're doing. especially if you're working with something with heightened emotions. it's SO delicious to read someone working so hard not to think something rather than letting them think it.

WRITING RULES!!!!!!!!!!!

[angelica-takach]

Bada Lee - You Are Not Alone.

Warnings!: Angst, Fluff, Self-harm, FemReader!, Abuse (both mentally and physically.) also reader is a member of jam republic.

part 1 - part 2

We all were invited to be on Street Woman Fighter and so we all are here now. recording will be starting soon for the first episode, so we all are arriving and getting into our outfits for the show, I wore a sleeveless crop top with baggy cargo pants, but I put on a baggy zip-up hoodie to cover me. We all went out to sit in our seats and what I seen across from our seats was team bebe! I low-key was so fucking excited and Kristen knew that, and elbow bumped me gently. "Calm down Y/n you'll get to meet her soon, I'm sure." I nodded. "I know it's just I've been her biggest fan for a while now and I love her so much." Kristen giggles at my excitement but turns to the Kang Daniel who is the host of this show. He welcomed everyone and we listened to him explain the rules and then it started. the first one to go was Redy of 1million she chooses Bada as the no respect dancer and not going to lie Bada was hot while she danced along, and she totally wiped the floor with her. It was next Kristen against Waackxxxy and then it came to me to pick someone. I held the mic up to my mouth. "I choose Bada Lee of BEBE." She smirked and got up and I obviously was excited for her to be my opponent. I held the mic up to my mouth. "Bada, I hope you're ready because I'm going to show you who is boss." She smirked and so did I. I passed her the mic and she raised it up to her mouth. "Y/n-ah I hope you're ready because I am the boss." I blushed but hid it as best I could and got started. I went first and my song was goodies by Ciara, and I shook my ass and grinded against the floor I even got up on Bada and rubbed into her a little she smirked and pulled her hat down more so you couldn't see her face, but I noticed. I finished and now it was her turn. Her song was Smack that by Akon ft, Eminem. I watched her roll her hips and move so slick and relaxed at the same time to it and she got up on me too like I did her everyone started hooting and hollering she got close enough to kiss my lips but stopped and it was the end of her turn. The judges didn't know who to pick but finally turned their cards around and two said Bebe and only one said jam republic. I hugged her and told her she did great but she pulled me close and whispered in my ear. "Meet me after this is over I want to take you out on a date for that." I nodded and she winked and smirked at me. I walked back over to my team as she did hers. This episode was over and she came over to me and gave me her number and I gave her mine and we went back to our places I have a house her in Korea and in the states. Neither of which I am at really ever because I'm always in the dance studio or doing choreographies for famous artists I'm never home which suck because I want a cat but the last one I had I couldn't take care of and had to give him up. :( anyways I showered then did some light makeup and did my hair into a ponytail and wore a lighter blue dress that hugged my slim yet fit body and I put on some converses. I heard the door bell ring and knew it had to be her. I opened the door and there she was tall and sexy as ever. I smiled at her and she returned the smile. I seen she wore a lighter blue button up and paired it with black pants and some Nike's her hair also in a ponytail but lower instead of up high like mine. She held her arm out for me and I obviously didn't reject the offer. We walked to the car and she opened my door for me and closed it once she made sure I was seated and walked around to the driver side. She started up the car and then turned on the radio. At first the ride started quiet but. "You look beautiful Y/n." I blushed but not too hard. "You look beautiful too Bada." She giggled. "You can change the radio if you want." I nodded and changed started cycling through the stations. I gasped when I hear angel baby was about to come on. [singing: I need a lover to keep me sane, pull me from hell bring me back again, play me the classics something romantic give him my all but I don't even have it.] She smiled at me and I returned the smile.

We reached the restaurant and got seated. I picked what I wanted and since we are at a Korean restaurant, I picked my favorite Korean dish. (Japchae) While we waited for food to come, we started talking. "So, Y/n what is new in your life?" I sighed. "Nothing much mostly stressful stuff." She furrowed her brows but didn't pressure me into talking anymore about it. I broke the ice again by continuing the convo. "So, what's new with you Bada?" She liked that I asked about her life. "Lots of stuff I keep working with idols for their choreography, also the show is making me stressed because I don't want my team to lose or yours but I know only one can win." She sighed at the end. "I understand same here but I won't be upset if your team wins because you guys deserve the win." "You guys do too though." I grabbed her hand and gently caressed it. "Well no matter what we'll always be there or each other." She smiled at this but pulled away cause food arrived. I drooled but started munching on this shit hard as fuck. She giggled. "I'm glad you like it beautiful." I blushed realizing I didn't tell her thanks. "Thanks Bada it is yummy." I continued eating and she did too. Soon we were done and left se drove me back to my place with her hand resting on my thigh. We get to my place and I offered for her to come in. "No I can't got to get ready for tomorrows recording of the next episode so I need more sleep. and to gather some small things to bring with me." I nodded and went to tell her goodbye but then...she kissed me. she pulled away and smiled proudly at me. "I had such a good time with you Y/n-ah." She rubbed the top of my head. "T-thanks I had a good time with you as well Unnie." I waved and she did too then she got in her car and drove off. I slammed my door behind me and slid to the floor. My phone rang and scared the shit out of me. I looked to see who called it's my parents. I answered it because I didn't know if I should or shouldn't. "Hello Y/n. This is your mother who you never seem call to check on I was wondering how your not so successful career doing for you?" I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "It's going great mother not that you would know because god forbid you actually watch me dance." I swear I could hear her smirk. "I don't think your doing something worth a fuck for a career Y/n. You are making not enough for you to live on." 'The fuck does she know I make plenty but of course she could give two shits less.' "Well mother I hate to break it to you but I'm happy and make enough to live and at least I'm happy with my career." She scoffed. "That reminds me you need to come visit for the Weekend." I rolled my eyes. "I will and I'm bringing some friends because they support me unlike someone." She laughed. "Sure, they do dear." "They do mother not everyone thinks dancing isn't a career." She hung up on me which had me fuming but I went on to bed because it was getting late. I looked at my phone and messaged Kristen and Audrey to see if they wanted to come with me to my family home for the Weekend which they both said yes. Then I messaged Bada to see if she wanted to come since I could really use her comfort through out this whole trip.

(My Angel is y/n nickname in her chat and Bada's is My Sexy Fox.)

My Angel: So hey Bada?

My Sexy Fox: Yes beautiful?

My Angel: How would you feel about coming with me, Kristen and Audrey to my family home for the weekend?

My Sexy Fox: Why not just me? :(

My Angel: Because I need all the people I trust during this trip. PLus they'll be in the guest room so you'll have me all to yourself. ;)

My Sexy Fox: Yes! Okay I'll come too. Where do we need to meet?

My Angel: At my house It's only a couple hour drive.

My Sexy Fox: Okay I'll be there.

I went to bed smiling so hard and touching my lips because I can't stop thinking about her lips on mine.

[firein-thesky]

Act I, Part I

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 13k || ao3 || masterlist || Act I, Part II -> ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: it is finally here!!! this is apart of a lovely collab with my buddy @lorelune that you should check out!! i've linked their fic above!! thank you so much to @acerathia for beta reading this!!! this is the first act of three that will be posted but this act has been broken into two parts because tumblr hates long posts so i will link that shortly as well! everything will also be on ao3!! thank you so much and i'd love to hear your thoughts!! <33

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, eventual smut (not in this chapter), mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically

SCENE I

Our story begins first in the open night, beneath torchlight and on an ancient, well-loved stage in Springvale. And then our world should open up to the wilderness, to the Mondstadt streets, until we end up in Kaeya’s home; it’s as mysterious and stylish as he is. Everything could or couldn’t tell you everything about him, everything might or might not mean something to the Cavalry Captain. 

The night sky shudders into shades of endless plum blue, kissed with silver-burnt stars and the gentle curve of a sweet moon. 

Kaeya’s eye catches its brilliance, reflects it back like it was made from the very same moonbeam, the very same starshine. 

You roar to life in the darkness.

Fire bursts from your mouth in a red-gold crush of heat, swinging in an arc around your head to illuminate you. 

The audience cheers, hollering and clapping, murmuring excitedly at the way you leap from your pedestal above the stage into a crouch. 

Your costume twinkles, shimmery and scale-like, jangling like mora in the pocket. It’s slinky, baring midriff and thigh, the curve of your bare feet, ankles and wrists adorned in jingling, scale-like jewelry. Your hair is wild, horns twisting out from your head. 

It’s cute, Kaeya thinks, watching with an amused, little smile. 

“The dragon careened from the sky and bore down on the knight!” Your narrator exclaims and with a flash of movement, you and the other actor clash in the darkness. Your fire lights up the stage only briefly, to catch another flash of movement, before plunging back into darkness. And then again, a burst of flames in another sharp picture;

The knight’s sword raised above his head to strike you down. 

Darkness. 

Before your fire explodes out in a plume to make the knight stagger back. The audience gasps. 

You twist and turn and move serpentine, fluid like water, or the licks of your flames. 

Kaeya hasn’t seen you perform in awhile, perhaps years, but it brings back memories of childhood. 

The way you’d light up a room and perform whether it was to sing or dance or entertain.

As a child, you were bursting with it, with freedom and joy. He remembers nights in Ragnvindr manor, tucked away in smoky parlors with adults who cooed to you, who encouraged you to sing for them, to play the piano or violin. He remembers candlelight and the way it seemed to glow brighter for you as you opened your mouth and let all of that wonder out of you. 

Your audience adores you here, too, out here in Springville, at this little outdoor theater which is perhaps just a couple half-hazard pieces of wood nailed together. Nonetheless, you make it feel like the rocky terrain of Dragonspine. 

And by the end, your audience is hooting and hollering, on their feet, perhaps a little drunk, but adoring nonetheless. 

Though it’s nice to see you perform, that isn’t exactly why he’s here tonight. 

He sips at the mug of ale in front of him, leaning back in his chair. 

He waits until you appear again in plain clothes, changed from your pretty costume, fresh faced. 

And my, my are you popular. Everyone stops to talk to you, to snag you, to hug and hold you and laugh with you. He can tell, though, that you’re making your way to him as the night grows later and longer.

He waits.

Until you are in front of him once more, moon a halo above your head. 

“Riveting performance.” He purrs. 

“Captain Kaeya,” you say his name like it bursts sweet and sharp on your tongue. 

He says your name in return, honeyed and slow, taking you in all your glory. 

Then you say, “you came,”  and your smile is an infectious little twist of lips. 

“Of course I did.” He responds easily, looking up at where you’re standing in front of him, and then as if it was innate, only natural of him, “you asked me to.” 

Your eyes flicker just behind him, catch someone in the darkness, before settling back on him. 

Call it instinct, but he feels his hackles rise, hair on the back of his neck stand up. Kaeya knows danger well and can feel it now, the way you can smell a storm that is approaching. 

You offer him your hand, palm up, and in the firelight of the torches around you, it shimmers in his vision, dancing with shadows. 

He quirks a brow at you.

“Your place or mine?” He asks.

“You’re not even going to get me a drink first?” You ask, feigning scandal. 

Kaeya feels the corner of his mouth tick up, “call me impatient.” He says, but he finally puts his hand in yours, envelopes it in his and realizes he has not taken your hand in many years. Perhaps not since you were children together. Your hands have grown, but so have his. Calluses rough up against your smooth, soft palm.

So untouched. So unscarred. Soft as–

“Yours.” You say decisively.

And you pull him up and into the fray of people, into the sweet night, turning away to guide him but with your hand still in his. He trails after you and if it looks suggestive, if there are some hollers and calls to you–

“The good captain, even?” A fellow actor of yours crows, ale sloshing in his mug, “is there no one in Mondstadt safe from your wiles?” 

“Not a soul,” you vow with a laugh and the group roars with cheers, drinks spilling. 

“Don’t tell me you two are leaving already!” Another says, “the night is still young!”

“All the more reason to leave now,” Kaeya sings and there is even more uproar, whistles and suggestive howls. 

You seize his hand tighter and pull him closer, pick up your pace as if to show your eagerness, leaving all their laughs and hollering behind. 

Your shadow persists, though, and Kaeya doubles his step to get closer, to sidle up next to your side. To guard your back. 

“Been awhile,” Kaeya hums, “you must be desperate to have reached out to me.” 

“Well, in all of Mondstadt, I could think of no one else I’d rather have.” You grin at him and the trouble is, you’re being honest. He can feel it, or perhaps he just wants to, that you would want his presence beyond this, beyond–

As you wander over trails and stones back to the city, hand always in his, he helps you along, or keeps after you like an eager dog. He lifts you off of a stone ridge you climbed, hands fitting along your waist like they belong there. He laughs when you dart away from him, chasing after you only to catch you around the middle, letting you yelp and twist in his hold, tossing your head back onto his shoulder to laugh up into the heavens. 

It feels like he’s a child again, a teenager, stepping through time and into another. Nostalgia rips at him, tugs at the seams of him. He wonders if you feel it, too, but doubts it. 

Not with the person loping not too far behind, keeping distance but not too much. Not enough. 

The gates of Mondstadt are alight with torches. 

You walk backwards to face him and for a moment, he really does almost lose his footing, because there is something so bewitching about you. He can’t stop looking, the curl of your smile, or the raise of your brow. It’s a natural sort of beauty, one born from within, he thinks, something in you that’s just so–

Wonderful. 

And then you turn back over your shoulder and take off, pulling him after you. Nimbly, he is your shadow. Footsteps on cobblestone, clattering together, until you yank him into a dark little alcove. You press your back up against the stone curve, pulling him by the front of his uniform so that he crowds you, shrouds over you. 

“Kaeya–” you say his name a little breathlessly and it echoes in Mondstadt stone streets, voice throwing so that someone could hear you. Will hear you. 

He’s quick to catch on, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, though not close enough to touch. 

Your follower has paused at the entrance of this alley. Kaeya  can see the shadow in the torchlight.

You suddenly pinch his ear hard enough to make him yelp a little. 

You laugh, but it’s warm and sultry, head falling back against the stone like you’ll give him more room. 

“Right here?” He asks, but his gaze glances past you, at your follower. 

You nod to his real question, but pitch your voice up in the charade, “please–” 

The sound makes him flush a little. 

And it makes your shadow scurry away when he realizes what you’re getting up to, clearly embarrassed, or in the least, shy about being a voyeur. Kaeya fights the urge to snort. 

He does realize your hand is still curled in the front of his uniform. And the column of your throat is exposed, pretty, and open for the taking. 

He focuses squarely ahead, listening closely to see where the footsteps have gone. 

He only catches the grin on your face out of the corner of his eye, before you suddenly let out a louder, lewder moan. 

He shushes you, almost reflexively, but he has to fight the urge suddenly to laugh. You do start to giggle this time and although it still sounds deeply intimate, he covers his hand over your mouth so you can laugh into his palm. So that you won’t blow your own ruse. 

You keep this up until he finally takes your hand and pulls you away from the wall. You stumble with him, until he’s got you tucked up under his arm. 

You’re still laughing a bit, clearly pleased with yourself, as he takes you a strange, meandering way to his own place. Your follower is gone, perhaps for the night off, assuming that you’ll be in Kaeya’s bed. He wonders if your shadow will find you again come morning or if he’ll scout out Kaeya’s own place for the night.

He leads you into his own apartment building, up the wooden stairs, and into his home. For an apartment, it’s rather spacious. Open. There’s a balcony off the bedroom, one that overlooks a great deal of Mondstadt’s streets. The bustling world below and the peaks of Mondstadt’s skyline above. It’s his favorite part. 

Once the door is shut and the lock nestled into place, you finally drop the act. 

His hand leaves yours, body leaves yours, for the first time that he’s seen you tonight and instantly, he can feel the rush of cold ease in. 

“Make yourself at home,” he says, slinging off his own coat, setting his boots to the side. 

He wanders in only to collapse on his sofa, eyeing you as you toe off your own shoes and carefully hang your own jacket beside his. 

He forgets sometimes, what it's like, to have someone else here. 

To have a coat beside his own, shoes kissing his. 

“I take it you figured out my letter?” You ask, padding deeper into his home. 

Kaeya smiles, “well, you can imagine my surprise when Jean handed it to me.” 

“Jean saw that?” You ask, eyes rounding out in horror. “Does she think–does she know we’re not actually–?”

“Sleeping together? Romantically entangled?” Kaeya asks, standing suddenly to move to his office. You follow tentatively after him, only to watch him rifle through his desk and produce the very letter in question.

The envelope is covered in lipstick marks. 

“You could’ve been a little more discreet.” He says, before inhaling a little sharply, “did you spray your perfume on this?” 

“Do you like it?” You ask in return, “it’s new.” 

He laughs, low and soft, “it’s nice. I think you traumatized Jean, though.” 

“I wanted people to be too embarrassed to look inside the letter.” You retort, “clearly, I succeeded.” 

“That you did.” He agrees, “and even if they did–”

An excited glow comes to your eyes, “did you figure it out?” 

“Well, I knew it was some sort of code since the content of the letter was—fabricated, to say the least.” 

“What? You don’t remember our clandestine trysts? I’m hurt—“ 

“You’re very clever.” Kaeya says then unabashedly and he thinks you melt a little at the praise. Or at least, you quiet down. “And it seems you’re in quite a bit of trouble.” 

When you speak this time, it’s hushed, like you’re worried someone is listening now somehow. 

“Can you help me? I had no idea who to turn to without tipping them off.” 

“Well, if it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s dealing with secrets.” He muses, but then he gazes at your letter again, perhaps scouring the contents of it once more. 

On the surface, it seems like a love letter, filled with winding, romantic phrases and memories of old; romps under star bright skies and hurried instances in the library. Nostalgic flashes of youth, when you danced the nights away with him. It details a sort of on and off again fling that neither of you can seem to quit. 

But beyond that, there are ciphers, a code to uncover. And Kaeya pulls a slip of paper from another drawer of his desk, lays it out on the surface. Your true message reads very clearly in his messy scrawl;

Help. Fatui watching. Must be careful. 

Kaeya gestures to the chair across from his large desk. You sink down into it with a nervous little breath. 

“How long has this been going on?” He asks and perhaps the air changes, or the way his shoulders settle back. It’s the voice he uses as captain, twinged with authority and coolness.

“I noticed them following me about a month ago. Maybe longer, though.” You answer. 

“Do you have any inclination as to why?” Kaeya asks now and he sets your letter aside. 

You take your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment and Kaeya watches the movement, before you release it. 

“It isn’t a secret that I’m not their biggest fan.” You finally answer. “I tend to toy with them if they get too close.” 

Much like Diluc, you harbor a deep loathing for the Fatui. 

You are a vocal and known defender of Mondstadt’s freedom from Fatui and their meddling hands. Notoriously, you’ve openly mocked them on stage and even worse, outwitted them in social entanglements. At every turn, when they tried to use your family’s name, coerce you financially, or corner you with social politics, you’ve managed to weasel by. They have tried endlessly to get you to bend to their whims, whatever they might be, and you have refused. 

For the past few years, they have tried desperately to get someone as loved and known in Mondstadt in their pockets. 

And for years, you’ve escaped them. 

You’ve done much to outwit them. You’ve caused all out personal brawls between underlings, made a fool of yourself at one of the largest balls between nations, led them on wild goose chases that amounted to nothing, and even gone so far as to reveal salacious scandals to get your way. 

Socially, in a battle of wits, you are a wicked opponent. 

But physically? You are a sitting duck. And as beautiful as those flames of yours are on stage, you’ve never once used them in battle. 

Kaeya remembers you as a child, trying to keep up with Jean and Diluc, well on their way to being knights, and all you did was cry and cry and cry.

It was so clear you were never meant for battle, always been more of a lover, in his mind. Crybaby that you were, you were meant for the arts; your sword a pen, your battle cry a song. 

“No,” Kaeya agrees, “but many people are not fans of the Fatui, to varying degrees of vocalness. I can’t imagine they’d be so foolish as to target the very Heart of Mondstadt for no other reason than your disapproval or mischief now.” 

The world has coined you Mondstadt’s Heart. It’s Light, it’s Shooting Star. You are as close to an adored princess (—and you’d scoff at the idea of royalty, like a true Mondstadtian—) as you can get in this nation and though you carry the bloodline of Imunlaukr, you have spent your days with the everyday man. You traveled and performed and dined and drank with those far from nobility. 

As soon as he and Jean and Diluc had joined the knights, you had already joined an acting troupe. You were already off, free as a bird, to compose and write and perform and sing and dance your way across Mondstadt. Across the world. 

But you always flew back home.

At one point, he’d been close to you perhaps, in his youth. You’d grown up alongside him and Diluc and Jean.

He always assumed, actually, that you and Diluc would—

Well, you’re both the beloved figures of Mondstadt. 

It’s light and dark, truthfully, blessed by the Pyro Archon.

But everything had fallen apart when—

Kaeya had assumed you’d sided with Diluc and never wished to see him again. Or, in the least, you had nothing good to say to him. You’d never been rude to him, but he’d kept his distance nonetheless. 

Perhaps for fear of your scorn. Perhaps he couldn’t face it. Of all the people who could scold him or reject him, yours felt particularly hard for him. He blames it on your otherwise playful and loving nature; to be despised by one of the sweetest of Mondstadt would be hard to stomach. 

You used to write to him, more than just coded letters when you were in grave danger. But slowly, the letters stopped, and he assumed Diluc must’ve said something or—

Your paths were easy to keep from crossing.

Kaeya deals in secrets and shadows and is busy with the knights.

And you deal in brilliant light and open-hearts, your whole life on a stage. 

Nonetheless, he’s surprised by your warmth.

“What are you thinking?” You ask softly and the way you’ve said it makes him think you could tell his mind was spiraling.

Kaeya sets down your letter, “that you’ll have to stay here for the night if you’d like your little shadow to believe your ruse.”

You open your mouth, perhaps to protest, to ask again—what are you really thinking about?

But you don’t.

“I suppose I’ll have to crash on your couch.” You answer, before a wry smile curls at your lips, “unless you’d like to stage a grand argument where I storm out.” 

“You’re still trouble.” Kaeya hums, eyeing you perhaps more fondly than he should.

“And you were my partner in crime once! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t now—“

“I would, if it benefited us.” He assures you, smiling himself, “but for now, I think keeping up a false relationship for the eyes of others may help us a great deal.” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You tease. 

“I think it would give me an excuse to be around you frequently to protect you. No one would think twice about two lovers recently rekindled.” 

“Surely, I don’t need—“

“In the least, I’d like to observe your observer.” Kaeya says smoothly, and then, “you’re not seeing anyone else, are you? We won’t have to worry about your real lover, do we?” 

The question hangs in the air for a moment, suspended.

“No,” you say then, something strange in your voice, a little shake of your head, “what about you?”

“I’m far too busy with the Knights of Favonius for a relationship.” Kaeya says flippantly, forcing his voice to remain even. “At least that makes things less complicated.” 

“Right,” you agree and there is a moment of silence as the situation settles around the two of you. There’s a shyness in the silence, a sudden uncertainty. Kaeya does not do well in it. And apparently neither do you, because at the same time, you both try to say;

“You can take my bed for–”

“I’m sorry to intrude on–”

You both laugh a little and try again;

“You’re not intru–” 

“I can’t take your–!” 

Silence again. 

Your eyes meet and there is a smile in the corners of them, laughing eyes, crinkled with their life.

He opens his mouth to speak again but this time, you lurch forward and beat him to it, “I can’t take your bed!” 

“I’ll change the sheets, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He says easily.

“No! It’s your bed and I’ve just–dropped in on your life!” You exclaim, voice pitching upwards. Dramatic little thing that you are.

But Kaeya can’t help but feel as if it’s a little true, not in any horrible way, rather in a way that is worse;

It feels poignant. 

Right, even. 

To have you fall back into his life the way you used to fall as a child, reckless and with wild laughter. 

“Not at all,” Kaeya says and he finds, surprisingly, that he means it, “besides, the couch is comfortable–”

“Then I can take it.” You counter. 

“No, I’m afraid it’s my home and I’ve already decided” 

“Kaeya.” You say, as if to scold him.

He says your name in return, in the same tone, as if to mock you.

Eyes locked again, Kaeya takes you in fully. 

After all these years, you have only grown all the more beautiful. Everyone knew you would be, but somehow you’re more than he remembers, a full bloom, a perfectly ripened fruit. A fledged angel. You’re more than he could ever fathom, somehow in his home, after years, and showing him a warmth and kindness he perhaps doesn’t deserve. 

Faintly, he wonders if he should work up the courage to apologize. 

For what exactly, he can’t name. 

(But for years now, he has felt the urge to apologize. To everyone. For everything. And yet it will never loosen from his throat, lodged there, down deep.)

“Would you like to borrow clothes to sleep in, too?” He asks and if his eye skips down to your body briefly, he is quick to avert it. 

Sheepishly, as sweet as ever, you smile and say, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he purrs and then he stands, stretches a little, hands raised above his head. “Shall we?” He asks and begins to move towards the door. 

You stand to follow him.

“Kaeya,” you say suddenly, his name flying from your mouth like a freed bird. 

He pauses in the doorway, the arch between two places; where you are and aren’t. One foot in and one foot out. 

He can tell by the look on your face, so painfully expressive, shuddering with several emotions, that you want to say much. You’re like an open book for him to plainly read, so vulnerable. 

He hopes you won’t say a thing, doesn’t think he can quite bear to hear it. 

“Thank you.” Is what you settle on and it’s soft, painfully earnest. 

Kaeya swallows, hides it all behind an easy, flippant smile, “of course.” 

And he turns away from you, turns his back on your seeking face because he can’t be what you find, doesn’t want you to pry. Your eyes are too searching and he has to be careful, so careful–

He gives you soft, worn clothes of his. He is careful not to look too long at how you fill their shape, or how you look with your hair undone or your face free of stage makeup. 

He is sure all the world wishes to know you this way. 

He tries not to make you laugh or smile and is certainly careful not to hold your gaze. 

He sleeps with his eyepatch on, shirt carefully buttoned and irritatingly twisted up over his body.

He stares up at the ceiling of his living room as you lay in his bed and he forces himself to think 0f anything but, to think of his duties in the morning, or the look on your face all those years ago. 

Why are you being so kind to him?

He turns the question over in his mind like a coin, over and over and over, as if it may land on a side and reveal to him an answer.

He hardly sleeps. 

And in the morning, the birds sing and so do you, humming under your breath as you dorn your clothes from the night before. 

“My great walk of shame,” you sing with a laugh. “Hopefully all of Mondstadt notices.” 

“Wait,” he says and the morning sun makes him lighter, your laugh brightens his whole home, and he disappears into his room momentarily to fetch his bottle of cologne. 

If he were a worse man, he would dab it onto your neck with his own fingers.

But instead, he hands you the bottle, “if you’d like them all to really talk.” 

You laugh again, full bellied and beautiful. So beautiful that you put the morning bells to shame.

You dab it on your neck, against your pulse points, the smell of sweet mint and amber, something boozy, almost like bourbon, hangs in the air and–and you smell like him. And your own perfume, the crush of vanilla and dark berries. 

They’d almost compliment each other.

And then you hang in his doorway like the light beams that linger as the morning turns to day and finally you say, “it was good to see you again.” 

“You’ll be seeing much more of me now,” he replies breezily. 

“And I’m glad for it.” You tell him, “at least something good has come of this.” 

He swallows hard. He averts his gaze from you and onto the Mondstadt streets beyond. The birds that flutter and coo as the day blossoms and grows. 

“Go,” he says gently, “and spread your rumors about us.”

You laugh again and promise to do just that, skip in your step, as you turn to take on the world as if not a thing could touch you. 

And he shuts the door quickly–to his apartment and home, and to his heart. 

He doesn’t dare think about it as he throws the lock into place.

But he’ll hum the tune you were singing this morning for the rest of the day and well into evening.

When he sleeps that night, it is with the thought of your form burning in his bed the night before and he thinks if he prayed much, he’d say oh Archons, what have I done? What have I gotten into? 

What does the world have in store for me now?  

***

SCENE II 

In Angel’s Share, warm and glowing, a love shared between the patrons. 

You— have the uncanny, incredible talent of prying open all that is around you, so that it bursts sweet like a ripe fruit into your waiting hands. You have known this since you were a child; if you listen, the world will reveal its secrets to you. If you sang, something sang back. And when you danced, all was moved with you. 

And now, all that world seems to hang on your every breath, the tavern hushed as your voice carries over the sounds of a lyre. All the patrons’ faces are relaxed, open for you, as you sing. 

Venti plays beside you, fingers plucking carefully, stroking into a fuller sound as your voice carries and rises. 

It’s a slinky little song, playful and flirtatious, heart-warming as the room coos and sighs. Not a soul is spared–and they never are, Venti always tells you with a laugh. You can feel it, the energy that simmers, that you manage to reach for and control. 

You’re singing about love. You don’t do it often. 

But the song is an old one, about young lovers, and petal blossoms. Spring fevers and moonshine. You trill and chirp like a bird, voice soaring and floating above the room. 

Until the last note blooms from your mouth and the patron’s of Angel’s Share erupt into applause. 

You hadn’t planned on singing tonight, only sitting with Venti and Diluc at the bar. But, as what often happens on lovely, slow-warming nights of spring, the tavern fills and the customers beg for a song as they grow drunker and louder. 

You know they will likely ask you for one more—a rowdier one that you will kick up your feet to and dance. You will clap and stomp and pull a drinking man into your arms briefly and everyone will hoot and cheer as you teach someone clumsier than you how to dance to your tune, for a moment so that he might see the world the way you do.

Or hear it with your ears.

They never quite can keep up, but it’s fun nonetheless.

And then, for Diluc’s sake, you will play a slow, soft tune with a violin perched on your shoulder. It will be an old drinking song that you have slowed and made into a minor chord so it rings with melancholy and not cheer. 

But it will lull the patrons and urge them to leave for the night, arm and arm, bumping shoulders.

You will help Diluc clean up and he will urge you to head home, too. Venti will linger, though hardly lift a finger.

For now, though, you retreat from your place of spotlight to take up your stool at the bar once more. Venti perched up beside you. 

“Another round, barkeep!” He announces.

Diluc looks flatly at you, before his eyes shift to Venti and drawl, “with what money?” 

“I’ll pay for it, Diluc.” You pipe up and he sighs and shakes his head like he always does. 

(He never charges you for them, anyways. You’ll still try to leave money for the both of you at the end of the night.) 

Instead, he says, “that was quite the song.” As he sets a glass of valberry wine in front of you; it is one of your favorites. 

For Venti, an ale.

“A love song!” Venti adds, waggling his brows as he loops his hand around the mug of ale. He takes a large sip, throat working, gulping it down far quicker than he should be. 

“I was in the mood,” you say breezily, lifting one of your shoulders in an easy shrug.

Diluc cocks an eyebrow but otherwise does not press you. He returns to wiping down the bar. 

Unlike Venti, who slams his mug back down onto the bar (sloshing some of the ale and Diluc, the poor man, sighs as he runs his rag over the splash) and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “you’re seeing someone!”

Now, technically, you are supposed to be sharing this little rumor in hopes of it spreading like wildfire.

But lying to Venti? To Diluc—

About Kaeya, no less. 

So instead, you say, “I wouldn’t say that, per se.” 

Venti pounces excitedly, “but there is someone! Who is it? Do we know them?” 

You swallow. Though you are an actor, you are hardly a liar and even now, it turns your stomach over itself to do it. You’ve never been good at lying; your heart has always been on your sleeve, emotions written so plainly across your face. Lying makes your skin itch, you can hardly ever do it, even rarer can you pull it off. 

“Well,” your voice goes high.

“We do, don’t we?” Venti asks, impish grin hooked onto his lips. .

He mistakes you for shyness or awkwardness over a crush, rather than nerves or guilt. You let him. 

Venti is a dear friend of yours and has been for several years now. It was a sort of instant connection with him; even stranger and more wonderful than that, once the world had given him to you, it had felt like he’d always been in your life, at your side. Your bard. Your drinking and dancing partner. Your confidant and mischievous accomplice. The games the two of you play are far beyond anyone else; you send each other all over Mondstadt with scavenger hunts and puzzles–for new sheet music he’s written for you to sing or exciting news you wish to tell him– tongue twisters and poems, cherished clues and inside jokes. Your letters are often in code or riddle. The two of you are always disappearing to secret places and hiding spots. 

He’s your dearest companion. 

Lying to him troubles you greatly. 

You’ll have to ask Kaeya if you can tell him, if you could explain to Diluc that–

Still, you swallow, “you do, yes.” 

“Let me guess!” Venti then says, tapping his chin in contemplation. And for a moment, you have half a mind to lead him down a riddle, instead of this guessing game. The wine is muddling your head, though. “Is it Franz?” Venti asks. 

You laugh, surprised, shaking your head quickly; Franz is a fellow actor. He’s great fun but—

“Franz is seeing Emil!” 

“It’s not Rosaria, is it?” Venti then asks, “I thought you said that was a one off sort of—“

“It’s not Rosaria!” You cut him off, cheeks suddenly blossoming into an embarrassed heat as you glance at Diluc. Venti had been the only one who knew about that. 

Until now, of course. 

You smile sheepishly.

“Rosaria?” Diluc questions, surprised as well.

“It was a one off sort of—“ You begin to repeat Venti, laughing nervously. 

“I just had to be sure!” Venti then cuts you off, before taking another long sip of ale. He makes a show of mulling over his thoughts. 

“Is it…” He trails off, before his eyes suddenly sharpen and pin you to your place. You swallow because you know him and you know that look. Sometimes, you think Venti knows too much. You don’t know if it’s intuition or–

“…Kaeya?” 

You freeze. 

“It is!” Venti crows.

“What?” 

You wince.

“It’s just—it’s nothing—really!” You squeak out. 

“I had heard you went home with Kaeya!” Venti continues, loud enough that, yes, this rumor will certainly spread now. 

And more importantly, you believe it’s loud enough to reach the ears of the man who has been following you all day; the undercover Fatui member sits not far off, keeping his eye on you. He pretends to drink alone. 

“You went home with Kaeya?” Diluc repeats and if he sounds as if he might scold you, you suppose you wouldn’t exactly blame him. 

You lean in towards them and instinctively, they do the same, the three of your heads ducking close to each other. 

“It wasn’t like that,” you whisper to them, “but if anyone else asks, it was like that.” 

Diluc’s brows furrow and a frown settles onto his lips. Venti throws his head back and laughs. 

“What are you two up to?” Diluc asks scornfully, eyeing you.

“Nothing!” You chirp but it isn’t very convincing. 

“I knew you had feelings for him,” Venti continues, perhaps a little too loudly again, and somehow, it’s as if his voice could carry. Like he’s thrown it playfully, caught it on the breeze from the open window. 

Venti has always been rather magical to you. In the same way it feels as if you’ve always known him, it feels as if he could have always been here, in Mondstadt, even before he appeared. There is something in Venti that sings to you, the way the wind does on a beautiful day, rushing through your hair and into your heart. You couldn’t name it, but you know it as well as you know the streets of your home, as well as you know your favorite sonnet or song.

You make a show of shushing him and he laughs heartily again before he throws you a wink. 

You grin mischievously yourself this time. 

“Has Kaeya ever taken a lover?” Venti asks now, perhaps wondering out loud. 

“Too many.” Diluc grouses. 

“He’s strange that way, isn’t he?” You muse, taking a slow sip of your wine. You consider your next words. “He somehow has the reputation of taking countless lovers, but I couldn’t name you a single one.” 

Venti’s eyes twinkle, as if he knows something you don’t. Like a child, you sometimes wish to beg him to tell you what he seems to know, what the world has given him, but you know that is no way to learn.

“Diluc?” You question. 

Diluc gives you another flat look, “I am not privy to Kaeya’s romantic life.” He puts away a glass a little more forcefully than necessary, the glass twinkling, “and I have no wish to be.” 

“You can’t name a single paramour of your brother’s?” Venti presses and the two of you lean against the bar in intrigue now, excited, shining eyes turned to Diluc. 

“No, thank the Anemo Archon, I can’t.” 

Venti snorts at a joke you can’t seem to grasp. 

But then you and he share a look, and this time, you can read very plainly what is in his face. You wear twin smiles, impish, and all trouble. 

Diluc shakes his head, “don’t look like that in my bar. If you’re going to cause trouble, do so elsewhere.” 

“You’re such a grouch,” you snip back at Diluc, taking another sip of your wine, the sweet burn settling deep in your belly. Warmth blossoms. “You’re not curious at all?” 

“No,” Diluc says again quickly. 

You narrow your eyes, “liar. I know some part of you cares, no matter how badly you pretend not to.” 

Diluc huffs, “if I cared, I’d know.” 

Venti hums, “then you do know.” 

“I just said–” 

“I think it has more to do with Kaeya, don’t you?” Venti then says lightly, perhaps too lightly, “if Kaeya wanted you to know, you’d know. Kaeya keeps his cards close to his chest.” 

Another sip of wine has you feeling flushed. Open. 

“Well, I’m just going to ask him the next time I see him.” You declare to the two, to the bar, perhaps to the whole world. 

As if maybe it was you who asked for the truth, he’d answer. 

“Good luck with that.” Diluc says dryly. 

“Good luck to you!” Venti cheers, jerking his mug of ale out to you so that you may clink your glass of wine against his. You do so, just as he laughs;

“Good luck on your endeavor to capture our Captain’s heart! If anyone could, it would be you!” 

***

SCENE III

The Mondstadt streets, early morning; bustling and lively. A flourish of colors as people pass to and fro. Our lovers meander, as if in another time entirely. Kaeya is often shrouded, by people, by vendors, by the world. 

You walk beside Kaeya, shoulder to shoulder, past vendors of food and flowers and jewelry. Children yell and chase each other past you, mother’s hollering after them. The smell of fresh food and perfume floats on the breeze. 

Kaeya swaggers beside you, sword at his hip, in his full knight’s uniform. You, on the other hand, are in simple skirts; white ruffled fabric beneath an outer layer of peach. A corset of flowers, woven, but hardy and loved, with silk ribbons in the back all tied up and tangled in your hair. Despite the dress, you’ve decided today to bind your chest. Some days, you bind, some you don’t. Some days you are more masculine and others feminine.

And often, you live in between, perhaps around the two. Both and neither all at once. 

Heads turn as you pass but this is what Kaeya wanted. 

He ducks his head now to say, “your shadow is certainly persistent.” 

His voice is low and soft, kept hidden from prying ears. 

You look up at him, “they always are. I swear, one day, they’ll follow me into the bathroom–”

Kaeya snorts, casting his eyes back outwards at the moving streets. 

Now, he says, more obviously, “what have you got left on your list?” 

You look down into the basket on your arm; the loaf of bread that is still warm, the couple of fruits and vegetables that fill in with color around it like large jewels. 

“Milk and eggs,” you respond, “but I like to look at the flowers, too.” 

“As you wish,” Kaeya smiles and you feel his hand at the small of your back, leading you through the crush of people, towards where you will find your milk and eggs. 

“Kaeya,” you say, soft as the breeze. 

“Hm?” 

“I have questions.” 

He quirks a brow at you now, intrigued, perhaps even wary. It’s hardly a flicker of his expression. But still, he asks, “of what kind?” 

“Mostly the secretive kind.” You answer; you’d like to ask who you can share this false relationship with. You want to know if he’s informed Jean. 

You step up to the vendor for milk and eggs with Kaeya at your back. 

“You should save those for later, when you’re in my home.” 

“Oh?” You ask, head turning over your shoulder to look at him,“I’m coming over later?” 

Your eyes meet and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tension is real, the little fissure of heat that kindles inside you makes you flush with warmth in the face. Along the tips of your ears. 

Kaeya really is handsome. A true knight in shining armor or–he looks like a prince from a fairytale, you think. The regal line of his nose and pretty dip of his cupid’s bow lip, the depth of his blue eye; you swear it could be a shade of blue you have never seen before. One that you could give a new name to. 

“If you’d like,” he says breezily, his smile sharp and handsome, “I’ll provide dinner.” 

“And wine?” You ask, a smile of your own tipping up into a mischievous curve.

“Always wine.” He agrees and this time, you think his smile is more sincere. 

You purchase your eggs and milk with twinkling coins that you press into the warm, wrinkled hand of the old farmer who sells them. And then you are on your way again, meandering the streets at Kaeya’s side. 

“I do have a question that can be asked now, though.” You return, cradling the basket on your arm filled with your goods, letting it rest against your hip. 

“By all means,” he replies, as if he’ll be that easy to give you an answer. He gazes back outwards, at the world around him. 

And before you can lose an ounce of courage, you look up at him and simply ask, “have you taken many lovers?” 

He laughs, surprised, and his head turns sharply to look at you again. “Is this a trick question?”

You laugh now yourself, “not at all! I’m being earnest.” You implore him with your eyes now, expectant, and honest.

 He laughs again, softer, shorter, as if he can’t believe you. He returns his gaze to the street in front of him. “I’ve had a few.” He answers simply.

“A few?” You prod.

“My, you’re nosy.” He teases. 

“I’m curious. I want to know!” You defend, nudging him a little, “I want to know more than just the elusive rumors about the casanova of the Knights of Favonoius.” 

“Is that what I am?” He purrs, “a casanova?” 

“Don’t change the subject!” You respond with another laugh and it’s almost a little dizzying, watching him work in real time to slip from your grasp. You feel heat in your cheeks, up along the nape of your neck. 

But you adjust your grip, you try again. 

“I’ve had quite a few.” He amends sheepishly, boyishly. “I hope you’re not the jealous type.” 

“I am.” You snip back playfully, honestly, but still, “were any of them serious?” 

You can tell he is weighing how to answer as he lapses into a brief silence and then, as if he’d manufactured it, he urges you suddenly to a vendor for flowers, with her large bushels of them, beautiful and bright and fragrant. He ducks behind a burst of them, appearing around the other side with one in hand, which he offers to you. 

His grin is lopsided, handsome. “For you, my lady.” 

It’s blue and beautiful, full of fragrant petals and blooming a deep purple at the center. 

You snatch the flower from his grasp, “you’re avoiding my question.” 

Still, you bring the flower up to your nose and inhale deeply. 

Kaeya meanders around the other bunches of them and you follow after him, keeping the one in your hand close to your face, by your nose. It’s sweet smelling, soft and mellow, and fresh. 

“What do you define as serious?” He returns your question with one of his own finally. 

“Have you been in love?” You ask now.

“Sure,” he answers with a secretive slip of a smile. 

You don’t know why, but you almost think he’s bluffing. 

“So it was serious?” You encourage, trying to ease more out of him. 

He shrugs gracefully now and gives you another, “sure.” 

“Did you think you would stay with them forever?” You pivot now, knowing you have to be specific. The question bubbles from you without thought, as if you are asking if the weather is alright, or if he’d prefer the red or gold flowers this morning. 

He stops up short. 

He looks at you very strangely for a moment. 

And perhaps it is one of the first straightforward and honest things he’s said to you, “nothing lasts forever.” 

“No, but you could promise your own forever to someone.” You respond, letting the petals of his flower brush up against your cheek, soft and silky. 

“Well, what about you?” He returns smoothly, carefully avoiding what you’d just said. 

You smile, because you know now, you can tell he is an expert of avoidance. You smile like you’ve caught him. 

And as if to teach him, you answer very honestly, “I have been in love many times, but I only promised forever once to someone.” 

Now it’s your turn to meander around the flowers, turn over your shoulder and wander away from him a little. 

He follows tentatively. 

“And what happened?” Kaeya asks carefully. 

You pull another flower out of the bunch to admire it next to the one he gave you, a wispy white one, twinged peach at the edges. 

“I got stood up,” you admit and pick your head up from your flower searching to look at him briefly, “we were going to elope.” 

The look in his eye is perhaps a little too delicate for your liking. 

You return to fiddling with the flowers, pulling another, and another, to create your own, small bouquet of them. It’s easier when your hands are busy to speak about this still, which even years later, feels raw and prickly. 

“It was while I was touring in Liyue–we were supposed to meet at some old ruins–an altar– and be married at dawn. I was going to leave the acting troupe, leave Mondstadt behind forever, and disappear with him.” You say, carefully arranging your flowers, delicately shifting and changing them. You offer a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and try to joke, “it was all very romantic at the time.” 

You let out a breath, admiring your bouquet, “I waited all morning. And then all afternoon. All night. I thought something horrible happened to him but–”

You pick your head up again and this time Kaeya offers you another flower; one to match your bouquet. You accept it and it fits beautifully into the bunch of them, carefully placed at the center. It’s another blue one, soft and lovely and full to bursting. 

“It turns out he just got cold feet. He married a Liyue girl a year later.” 

“And what did you do?” He asks softly. 

“I went on to perform in Sumeru, Fontaine, Natlan, and Snezhnaya. And then I came home to Mondstadt, licking my wounds, and haunting poor Diluc and Venti at the bar. Singing too many heartbreak songs, drinking a little too much–you know, the whole spiel.” You say and this time, you do smile, because despite how hurt you were, memories of Venti trying to cheer you up, causing a ruckus, and poor Diluc trying his best to help you as well flood to you. 

Jean taking you out on girls’ nights and your fellow artists banding together to keep you afloat. Lisa finding beautiful copies of your favorite plays and stories. Good people who came back into your life and tried to put you together again. Good moments, despite it all. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Kaeya begins smoothly, reaching out to smooth a petal a certain way, “I think that is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of any man doing.” 

You snort and Kaeya continues, “I’m serious.” But you can’t tell if he means it or not, “Imagine losing the very Heart of Mondstadt.” 

He suddenly takes the bouquet from your willing hands and goes to pay for them with shimmering coins. He returns the flowers moments later, settles them into the crook of your arm, but not before stealing one and tucking it carefully behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmurs, eye flickering over your open face, unreadable as always, “perfect.” 

And with that, he saunters away and you are left staring after him, on his coat tails for a moment. 

But he pauses, he waits for your skip of a step to come back into place at his side. 

The flowers fill the space of your kitchen with the color of blue you can’t name, the one that is caught in his eye, and the one you dream about in Mondstadt skies. 

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Late afternoon. Outside the monumental Cathedral. Once inside, light pours from stained glass windows in a kaleidoscope of color. The way it touches you is almost a mystery, a vision. The audience should never fully see Kaeya’s face as he turns and moves, always partially shadowed. 

“I need to check on something before we see Jean.” You tell Kaeya and he hustles to keep up with your steps. 

“In the Cathedral?” Kaeya asks, brows rising over his face in surprise. 

“Sort of!” You chirp and then you glance over your shoulder, throw him a smile he knows means trouble, and say, “it’s a secret.” 

Kaeya masks his face well as he follows you around a sudden stone bend that veers away from the main room. He assumes it will go up, to the spires, but instead, it goes down. He stares at curled stone steps that lead into darkness. He glances around for a moment as if someone might stop the two of you, but no one does. 

You disappear into the shadows and Kaeya follows behind quickly. 

Now at a door, you turn, press your back to it and Kaeya comes up short. It’s a tight space, this narrow crook, and if Kaeya were to step away, he’d have to take another step up above you. 

“Will you guard the door?” You ask sweetly. 

Kaeya can’t help but laugh, a little surprised, “are you supposed to be doing this?” 

“I have a key.” You protest, fishing out a necklace from beneath your buttoned up shirt–today you are in trousers, with your chest bound, but a pair of heeled boots. You hold it up and a gold key shimmers in dull light. It looks old and perhaps once illustrious, with a whirling, intricate design. 

“Who gave that to you?” Kaeya asks. 

You look perfectly innocent, “I found it myself.” 

Kaeya can’t help the smile, “does anyone know you have it?”

You narrow your eyes, “you’re not going to tattle on me, are you?” 

His smile turns into a fond laugh, warm and softly echoing in this little hallway, the arch of the door. “No. Should I be worried?” 

“No,” you respond and he’s fit to believe you as you turn back to the door and fit the key into the lock. With a gentle, easy click, the door creaks open. “I’m just going to fetch my diary.” 

“Your diary?” 

Without an answer, Kaeya watches as you disappear behind the door, which leads to another, darker hallway. You lift your hand and light fills the space, a flame of yours licking to life. There is another door at the end of the hallway. He assumes you’ll go on, push through that one as well. 

But instead, you turn to the side to face a bookshelf lining one of the hallways. There’s plenty of them. You push on what appears to be a small statue fastened to the shelf and use it as leverage to begin sliding it over.

Your eyes flick to Kaeya only briefly and you lift your finger to your lips as if to ask him to keep your secret. 

The door shuts before he can stop it, sealing him away. 

Instantly, he frets. 

He pushes against the door but it’s locked now. And you have the key. 

He tries to remain calm. He feels suddenly foolish or tricked. He just thought–

Well, he assumed you were a goody-two-shoes. Mondstadt’s proper, most beloved girl. He thought you didn’t have a rebellious or secretive bone in your body. He assumed, for all intents and purposes, that you were something of a prude in this way. A rule follower. 

Huh. 

Kaeya glances back from the way he’d came, to the door. 

Perhaps he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. 

He tries not to worry the longer the minutes grow. 

He doesn’t want to call for you because he doesn’t want to attract attention but if you don’t return shortly–

The door suddenly creeks again and Kaeya has to step out of the way as you reappear behind it. 

And in your hand is a small, leather-bound notebook. 

You shut the door behind you, sealing your secrets away. 

“Diary found.” You tell him with a smile, holding it up. Then, you tuck into the crochet bag on your shoulder.

He stares at you, still rather surprised. 

“What?” You ask, brushing past him, to head back up towards the curved stairs. 

“What secrets do you have in that diary that warrant such a hiding place?” Kaeya asks, still astonished. 

You laugh, warm and bubbling, as you return to the main floor of the Cathedral. The colors of the stained glass in the afternoon sun shimmer on you, dancing over your skin in a wash of violets and peaches, blues and crimsons. Emerald colors your shoulders. Gold along your face. You look like a wonder. A fairy. Part god–

“Nothing so important–just my feelings. Songs I’ve written. Snippets of poetry.” You tell him and he wishes he could believe you. You say it so earnestly. “Secrets of the heart, I suppose.” You joke. 

Kaeya glances behind him, then back to you, “and where did you–find that place? How did you–?”

“I know many places in Mondstadt that others don’t. I’ve stumbled upon them ever since I was a child.” 

You catch his gaze over your shoulder, shimmering in his vision, and smile, “maybe I’ll show you more of them sometime.” 

The afternoon light almost blinds him as you swing the massive doors open once more. He dumbly follows after you, taken aback, enamored, in awe. 

“Come along, Captain!” You sing like a bird, “Jean is waiting!” 

***

SCENE IV 

Jean’s office. Golden hour. The light turns the wood of her desk and floor and the walls bronze. Papers are scattered around her desk, haphazardly organized. Her hair is a halo glow in the last rays of the sun. Kaeya’s back is turned, towards the bookshelves and away from the audience, like he might be searching for something. He is careful not to look at you. 

You sit across Jean’s desk as the afternoon wanes into evening, the sun dipping you in honey rays, soft and dreamlike. Kaeya busies himself with the rows of books, keeping his back carefully turned away from the two of you. He listens closely, though, even as he pretends he doesn’t. 

“So you’re not actually…seeing each other?” Jean asks. 

“No,” you laugh, “did I scare you with my letter?” 

“Yes.” Jean says seriously. 

Kaeya fights the urge to turn and offer her a cold look. Still, she continues, “I thought I was going to have to lecture one of you. Though, I’m not sure which one–”

You laugh now, fuller, warmer. 

It’s a lovely sound, it fills the space with warmth. 

“Who else knows? Kaeya, I don’t appreciate you withholding this from me at first.” Jean says and Kaeya can feel her eyes touching the back of his shoulders like the tip of a sword might. 

“You know I deal in secrets.” He responds flippantly. 

“This is different.” Jean responds and perhaps he does know that. 

You and Jean are childhood friends, he knows Jean cares a great deal for you. Or harbors some sort of over protective, sisterly feeling towards you. And even when you went away, even when you hardly saw each other, he knew the feelings didn’t wane. 

No, he knows how childhood bonds are. 

“It’s alright, Jean, we’ve had to be careful. We needed to establish a believable cover.” You are quick to mediate, perhaps defend him. “I started this, anyways.” 

Jean won’t get mad at you, nor will she blame you for much. 

“Currently, we’re the only three who know.” Kaeya pipes up, allowing his finger to trace over the spine of a book gracefully. 

“I’m trying to convince him to allow me to tell Diluc and Venti.” You quickly add and Kaeya knows now that he’s lost that battle. 

Jean will side with you.

“Diluc doesn’t know? Wouldn’t he be a useful ally now? She spends a lot of time at the tavern; he could keep an eye on her when you can’t.” Jean says. 

Kaeya takes a moment too long to respond, he knows it, senses his mistake, because Jean pounces–

“You two are a pain.” 

“Now, now,” Kaeya begins smoothly, “I just think the less people know, the better.” 

“You know you can trust Diluc.” Jean scolds. 

“Diluc is a terrible liar.” Kaeya snips and his head snaps to the side to glance at Jean over his shoulder. He quickly rights himself and shields his face once more, returning to his perusal of books. 

“I’m sure if he knows what’s at stake, he could keep it together.” Jean responds, tone firm and unmoving. 

Kaeya sighs heavily, but his next reply is cut off by your own voice, “I don’t like lying to him or Venti.” And then, because you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, you add, “especially about you.” 

“I think both would readily help us. The more eyes on her, the safer she is.” Jean agrees. 

Kaeya can not explicitly express why this makes him bristle— or perhaps he simply doesn’t want to admit it. He knows it, somewhere inside of him, knows that the thing that claws and scratches looks a little too close to jealousy. It is perhaps just a little too green. Maybe, he wanted to keep you to himself just a little longer. 

But he knows, logically, Jean is right. And if it’s for your safety–

Kaeya finally turns to look at the two of  you. Which is foolish, because the sun is setting, and you are in its window. You are caught in its light, warm and relaxed, with your chin in your hand as you turn to look at him.

“As you wish, Acting Grand Master.” Kaeya says evenly and offers a (frankly) rude little bow. Jean will know he’s mocking her a little and that he doesn’t particularly like the decision made. And then he says to you, “shall we? I’d like to get you home before sundown.” 

You prick your head up, concern and surprise on your face, “am I staying with you for the night?” 

Kaeya is careful to let the tone of your voice roll off him and not take it or covet it. 

“No,” he muses, “I thought I’d stay with you for the night.” 

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way you brighten or the way you jump up from your seat to follow him. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but he hears your soft goodbye to Jean, and her murmuring something in return. Your sweet little laugh. And then your quick steps to catch up to him once more. 

When you exit the Knights of Favonius headquarters, taking the steps with a little skip, you suddenly sidle up to his side. 

Right underneath his arm, attaching yourself. 

He is careful to school his features, dropping his arms around your shoulders easily. Yes, he supposes it’s wise to look like a couple heading home together. 

“Sorry we ganged up on you,” you say and the way you peek up at him would be enough to send any foolish man’s heart into a tailspin. 

Kaeya is desperately lucky he’s never been a fool. 

“No,” he soothes, “Jean is right. And you shouldn’t have to lie to your friends.” 

He feels your fingers flex at the bend of his rib, in the fabric of his clothes like you’re tightening yourself to him. He walks in step with you, with your side pressed to his. 

Has he ever done this, he wonders, so openly with someone? Walked through the cobblestone streets with a lover under his arm? Or has he kept everyone in shadows and secrecy? 

It doesn’t matter. This is a secret, too. It isn’t real.

And still, the question flies from his mouth before he is prepared for it, “why didn’t you ask for Diluc’s help?” 

You stop walking and as he continues for a moment, you slip from his embrace. 

He turns to look at you. The sun is a crimson flare, catching on your ruby Vision, on the look in your eyes. 

You smile like a cat that’s caught a canary. 

“Kaeya,” you say his name like a melody, “are you the jealous type?” 

For a heartbeat, he almost feels harpooned, caught, suddenly struck in place. It’s frightening to be picked apart so effortlessly, with that smile on your face. Earnest. Horribly lovely. 

What a strange creature you are, he marvels. 

But then he laughs and lies, “not particularly.” 

You hum and begin to saunter towards him, walk on past him, and he is caught in your shadow. He follows. 

“It would’ve made sense to ask him.” Kaeya continues. 

“But I asked you,” you say simply, “you’re who I thought of.” 

Carefully, he reaches for your hand, the brushing of his pinky to yours. As if to ask, may I play pretend with you? As if to ask, may I take up the role of the one who gets your hand? 

You readily accept it and the part, too. And then you smile at him again, impish, filled with mirth;

“Besides–can you imagine how scandalized Diluc would’ve been if I’d given him the same letter I gave you?” 

Kaeya truly laughs now, deep from his belly, and you laugh with him as you pull at his hand, as you press up against his side. Your fit of giggles fills the sky. 

And the world must watch as you stroll through Mondstadt together and wander up to your home on the hill. He thinks the world must watch as he slips through your door, through your fingers, like a serpent in a garden. 

Like a sweet sinner, a non-believer, slipping into the back pew in the house of a love-spun god. 

***

SCENE V 

The trail from Springvale to the main city should feel familiar to us. Though lonelier now, shrouded in darkness that was easily chased off with two. Later, Kaeya’s apartment; a rapidly growing safe haven. 

After your rehearsal on the stage in Springvale, you meander back to the city. Kaeya said he would meet you halfway, but currently there is no sign of him. As the hush of night descends, a feeling of wariness overtakes you. You hear the owls begin to hoot and the distant, far off call of a wolf. The wind rustles the bushes. 

You turn to glance over your shoulders, again and again, half afraid that one of the times you may find someone staring back. 

You try to calm yourself. You swear you’re being paranoid; you have taken this road countless times. There is little to fear. 

And still, the feeling persists. It grows. 

You turn fully to look behind you, allow a burst of flame to erupt in your palm to illuminate your darkening world. 

“Is someone there?” You call out. 

With everything in you, you wish to hear Kaeya’s voice reply. Or Diluc’s. Maybe a fellow actor lollygagging behind? 

Your heart thuds hard in your chest, quickening. 

And even before you see the rush of a shadow, something instinctive, something ancient in you, tells you to run–

You take off as you plunge yourself into darkness, fleet-footed and desperate. 

You run hard and know certainly now that someone follows. You can hear it, feel it, the press of them behind you. The city lights of Mondstadt in the night sky are your beacon. 

If I can just get to the city, to the light, to my city of light–

You run harder, more wildly. Fear sharpens and quickens you. 

A flash of silver ahead of you. 

Your heart knows it before your mind;

“Kaeya!” 

You nearly collide with him but he’s got you, hands on your shoulders to steady you, eye flying over your face desperately. 

“What is it? Are you hurt?” He asks before looking past you. 

“There’s some–” you turn to look with him. 

But the forest behind you is quiet. The darkness is hushed. Almost unnaturally so. Goosebumps erupt over the nape of your neck. 

Your words die, dwindle in your mouth. 

You swore–

You try to catch your breath, try to quell your racing heart. “I thought there was something behind me.” 

Kaeya has gone inhumanly still, too, listening, watching. You think he senses something, too. He must know danger, know its call, no matter how silent. 

He’s got his hand on your lower back, corralling you closer to him protectively. He doesn’t stop eyeing a spot ahead, though, in the darkness. 

He hums. “Perhaps it was an animal.” But he seems to know differently. 

After a moment, when you have your breath under more of your control, you manage to get out, “must’ve been.” 

“Let’s go,” Kaeya turns you away, hand slipping around your waist for support. 

You lean into him. 

Belatedly, you realize you’re shivering. Hard. Trembling all over. 

He ushers you into his apartment above the city once more. The moment the door is shut and locked tight, he moves with more urgency to guide you to his couch. 

He disappears momentarily and you almost want to call him back, like a child, you want to reach for him. He returns with water and sets it on the coffee table. 

He kneels in front of you now, like the knight he is. 

“Are you okay?” He asks first and again, he searches you. “Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head, the movement jolted, unsteady. 

“I just feel–strange.” 

Kaeya’s eye softens fractionally, “probably an adrenaline crash. I’ll grab a blanket.” 

Again, he disappears and you want to stop him. You want to grab his wrist before he can slip from you, you want to sink into his arms. You want to be held. 

But you sit and you tremble. 

When Kaeya gently fixes the blanket to your shoulders from behind, you jolt, startled. 

“I’m sorry,” he says then, “it’s just me.” He comes around again to kneel in front of you. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders, affixing it to you, bundling you in it. 

It smells like him. You try and take in a deep breath to still your trembling. 

After a moment, you say, “there was someone.” 

“I believe you,” Kaeya agrees softly, “someone was chasing you–I heard the second pair of footsteps and came running.” 

You inhale shakily. Tense silence fills the space. 

You can hardly speak, “do you think–do you think they were actually trying to–?”

Kaeya inadvertently answers your question, “I think we should be more careful from now on. I want eyes on you always from here on out.” 

“I thought it’d be fine–I always walk home from rehearsal and–”

“I know,” Kaeya soothes, “I thought I’d get to you sooner. I should’ve been. I’m–” 

“They’d just followed me around before.” You say uselessly, almost in disbelief, “why would they–?” 

“We’ll find out,” Kaeya says gently, “but for now, you should rest. How do you feel?” 

“Shaky,” you answer, “I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep tonight.” 

“I’ll be right out here,” Kaeya promises, “they won’t try anything now. It’s clear they’re waiting until you’re alone.” 

You want to beg him to allow you to stay on the couch with him, or for him to sleep in bed beside you. You feel needlessly clingy, like a scared child. How silly, he must think of you, to be so frightened of a little chase. You’re sure he’s seen so much worse, faced danger you can only conjure in storybooks. 

You bite your lip, catch between your teeth so it won’t wobble. You nod. 

Kaeya studies you for a long moment before you feel the careful press of his hand on your knee, the delicate swipe of his thumb in a soothing caress. 

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Kaeya asks softly. 

For a moment, you’re surprised by him or perhaps his attempts at soothing you. A bath does sound appealing though being alone doesn’t.

(Instantly, an image flashes hot in your mind, of you in the bath, and Kaeya leaning against the counter to chat idly with you. Or seated beside the basin, his sleeves rolled up, or–)

“No, I don’t need–” you’re quick to try and assure him. 

“It’s no trouble at all,” he stands with grace and ease and makes his way to his bathroom. In a moment, the water is running and steam is filling the small space. The scent of iris and eucalypts. 

You force yourself to stand on trembling legs, astonished with how thoroughly adrenaline has riddled your poor body. You’d think you’d be used to adrenaline in some way, the sharp plummet of your heart because of stage fright. 

But performing dangerous tales is significantly different from being a part of one. 

“Thank you,” you say gently, catching Kaeya’s hand to squeeze momentarily.

“It’s nothing,” he brushes you off and slips from you, allowing you to disappear behind the door to the bathroom. 

All alone you can hear the drum of your heart again. 

Your reflection looks strange to your own eyes in the mirror. Everything feels different; unreal, almost. You look away quickly, towards the running water, the filling bathtub. 

You try not to think, to strip yourself bare, and to leave the jitteriness on the floor with your clothes. 

You slip into the warm water. 

Kaeya left you clothes of his, a towel. 

You want to call for him. You want your heart to quiet. You want your fear to dissipate like the steam. 

You force yourself to take deep breaths. You force yourself to wash and scrub at your face and neck. You are okay. Kaeya is outside the bathroom and you are safe. 

Still, your feeling of unease doesn’t leave you. 

Even after you have donned Kaeya’s clothes and stepped from the warm bathroom. 

You linger in the archway of his bedroom. 

He looks like he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “will you stay with me? In your room?” In your bed? 

You watch Kaeya’s brows raise in surprise before he quickly schools his features. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

“I’m asking you,” you respond and perhaps there is a note of vulnerability, perhaps there is a wobbling, small part of you that sounds a little too desperate to his ears. 

You find some form of embarrassment in the press of heat in your face. But you don’t retract it, let your honesty hang between the two of you like a pendulum. 

“I’ll sit on the armchair in there until you fall asleep,” Kaeya compromises, “how does that sound?” 

Relief is sweet and cool and winding around you. You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding tightly to. 

“I’d appreciate that.” You say and you turn to try and make yourself comfortable in his bed once more.

There has been several nights now where you have slept in his bed alone while he sleeps on the couch. Each night, you offer to take the sofa, and each night, he denies you. 

Tonight, he drapes himself over the lovechair in the corner of his room.

He settles deep, eye flickering over you as you turn the covers over and crawl into bed.

In the silence, you can hear your heart again, “I’m sorry for making you do this.”

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Kaeya says smoothly, waving away your concern, “I’m glad I could help.”

You wonder if he means that or if he’s saying it because it is the right thing to say. You don’t dare ask him. You don’t dare press; some truths you would rather not be revealed to. 

“You look like you’re about to tell an incredible bed time story in that arm chair.” You joke instead.

Kaeya snorts, head rolling a little onto his chest. He looks tired, too, disheveled a little in a way that he rarely is. 

But he’s still so buttoned up; you wish he’d show you the defenseless side of him. The one not in perfect ruffled blouses or knights’ coats. The one without the eye patch or the carefully charming smile. 

“Would you like me to tell you a story until you fall asleep?” He asks dryly.

But when you laugh a little and say, “yes, actually,” you mean it.

Kaeya’s brow quirks upwards. 

“I don’t have many bedtime stories.” He tells you. 

“That’s okay,” you reply, “I’m going to fall asleep soon, I’m sure.” 

Kaeya hums lightly, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. He hangs there for a minute, revealing the lovely brown shade of his exposed throat.

Finally, he says, “I’ve got one.”

“Please share,” you encourage.

Kaeya draws in a slow breath, allowing the silence of the room to be sucked in, too. He holds it so the only thing you can do is wait, watching him in the near-dark.

Finally, he speaks and his voice is nothing like you’ve heard it before;

“Once, there was a prince from a far away, forgotten land…” 

The soft cadence of his story, hushed, and almost tentative, lulls you. It eases your heart and your mind. It reminds you of the wash of the waves against the shore or the wind as gentle as can be. 

In no time at all, you are drifting off into strange, plum-darkened dreams of lost princes and beasts in the night. 

And unknown to you, Kaeya gently pulls the covers of his own bed up over your shoulders. Gingerly, he tucks you into bed and watches your sleeping face for a moment. 

With a breath loosened, he finally leaves your side and finds his place on the couch. 

And in the morning, for once, you are awake before him and find him on the couch. 

Carefully, you tuck the blanket he’d thrown over himself up around his shoulders. You brush a strand of his long hair from his face. You let loose a quiet breath. 

He sighs in his sleep and turns towards your touch, chases it in his dreams. 

And though you linger, you don’t bother him again, but turn to begin making coffee for the two of you. 

You hum softly, an ancient little melody from a faraway land, and it stays in your head the entire day, with thoughts of a lost prince who, in your mind, surely looks like Kaeya; handsome and refined and beautiful. He must be noble and kind and charming like him, too. 

And more than anything, his eyes must be stars like his, too, and his hands must be calloused and gentle. 

And his voice must be like his, too, when he murmurs sleepily, rubbing at his eye, “where did you learn that song?” 

“I don’t remember,” you reply and you set a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, “I think from a traveler, a long time ago.” 

“I haven’t heard it since I was child.” He admits. 

“You know it?” You ask.

“Thank you,” he says softly, voice still rough with sleep, “for the coffee.” 

“Thank you,” you respond, “for staying beside me last night.” 

“It was nothing,” he assures gently. And then he finally answers you, perhaps in a way that you know is personal to him, “it’s a lullaby.” 

You smile behind the lip of your own mug, gentle and sweet, and say;

“Then the coffee is nothing, too.” 

***

Act I, Part II –>

[thecameronchronicles]

The Light Behind His Eyes

TW: Fluffiness galore!

SUMMARY: Drew's response to you walking down the aisle. 

WORD COUNT: 700

REQUESTED 

Hello, i hope you're having a great day today!

I wanted to request how about drew or Rafe getting prepared to marry the reader and when he sees her walking down the aisle he gets all emotional and excited and if you want you can add soft smut

The Light Behind His Eyes

No matter the months of preparation that came into this moment, nothing could have prepared him for this. The second those doors came open to reveal your chosen attire, you'd appeared as an angel on earth before his unworthy eyes. But your beauty had not come from the dress, even if it had fit you to perfection. Not even the choice of hair or makeup crafted across the features he favored observing him. Your true beauty came in the way you looked at him. That simplistic gaze that spoke in masterful intelligence and compassion beneath a single batting of lashes or rise of coquettish intrigue. That very gaze he now knee he would have the favor of looking into everyday until life would separate you. 

"You alright, Starkey?" You teased, unheard by your guests, as he dabbed his eyes when you took his side at the altar. Either side of the church having been lines with your mix of friends and family brought together by this union as he collected your hand into his own. 

"Just one second-" He interrupted your ceremony before bending you back into a kiss. Your friends erupted with boisterous cheers as the hoots and hollers would echo around you as you smirked. 

"Okay...continue..." He brushed away the lipstick from his mouth as you attempted to recuperate from your blush as he tightened his hand between yours. As if speaking in Morse code with each squeeze, you were left in the understanding of his love and desire. You recognized the way his fingers fit perfectly in yours just as your heart had been reminded of the security and warmth in his overall presence. 

"The vows?" Before Drew had even begin, your eye swelled with tears to see the effect behind his eyes. Literate and knowledgeable of the things you learned on a daily basis, you were taken back by his continuation of such teachings. Adjectives in the description of his feelings for you and the life he was exhilarated to know you would soon share, made your heart swell well beyond its normal existence. 

"And yours?" You were asked as you took a moment to collect yourself. 

"How am I supposed to follow that?" Your congregation chuckled before you cleared your throat. Those soft blue eyes focusing on you just as they had whenever you were before him. Only now, it had been in the final moments without the promise of matrimony in effect. 

You spoke of your favorite memories, most humorous or tender, and left the more sultry ones behind your dilated pupils he read well. Following this, you explained your commitment just as he had done only doing so with the vow of patience he teased you never held. Sincerity would finalize your string of promises until the only thing to remain had been that of your final "I Love you" spoken as his fiancee. 

"The rings?" You collected Drew's from Madelyn as he had done the same with yours from his brother's grasp. But as you stood in wait, you caught a cute wink from his brother and supportive pat that also reminded you of that close relationship as well. The family you were soon to be married into, that had already accepted you wholeheartedly. Just an addition to the love you already felt at this moment. 

"Repeat after me." You were both instructed as Drew stumbled over himself. 

"How am I supposed to focus, look at her?!" He ran his pointer finger across his cheek to wipe away his tears as the collective smirked once again. 

"You memorize lines for a living..." Madelyn teased. 

"Not having to look at her...A bit distracting…" He reminded as you smirked, validating your support in the pressure brought to his hands before the rings were finally set on those sacred slots on each other's left hands. 

"Although we've already seen a bit of a preview to this...You may kiss-" Before the words were finished, Drew pulled you into him.  

His parents at their feet as your family responded accordingly, applause sounding in symphony as it sealed the perfect moment that began the rest of your lives. 

Husband and wife. Mister and Missus Starkey. 

Until death do you part. 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

DREW STARKEY MASTERLIST