#he calls them “babe” so flippantly

[fandomfloozy]

Hozier confirming that Too Sweet was a contender for the Gluttony Circle only for the tiktok girlies to still misconstrue the song as a REJECTION of its subject is honestly gonna be my villain origin story

[gacha-incels]

“Arknights/Limbus Company/etc is obviously very political, why are these incels playing it?” Here’s a longer answer if you’re interested.

If you haven’t been watching gacha communities for the past decade this might be confusing to you, but these guys see the games as just apolitical stories with a majority or all-female cast being there to titillate the male viewer. They are for his consumption. It’s why in both eastern and western “gacha game” communities you can see them talking about how these games are better for having “beautiful” anime women versus the hideous hags of western media. I’ve seen so many people asking “how are incels playing a game with so many strong female characters?” They see them not as “strong female” characters but rather “eyecandy made for me”. tbh when it comes down to it I wouldn’t call any of the designs in these games absolutely groundbreaking for the anime genre they’re aiming for. Arknights even follows the standard “fully animal faced-guy” and the female equivalent “small featured anime animal girl with some fur”. This doesn’t mean the designs are bad or you’re foolish for enjoying them of course, there are a lot of fun ones. Anyway, you can see the same sentiment in the majority of anime communities as well. Like do you think that stereotype of an anime nerd who “loves 2D women but hates 3D women” means he’s a feminist because the 2D girl is still female?

To be frank, after some of the actions taken by these companies (ex. the firing of women for posting anything vaguely feminist) can you honestly say an “apolitical game with anime babes” is not the way the games are often enjoyed? The company Yostar who publishes Arknights in Korea literally wrote a statement saying the game is apolitical and calling feminism a dividing force. If the publisher can say something so flippantly like this just to appease their incel fanbase, how can the game be making any meaningful, hardline progressive political statements? I am of course not saying this renders any positive message you get from these games moot nor am I saying it’s impossible for the writers to be passionate about their work, I’m just relaying the thoughts of the incels/“gacha gamers” playing them because there seems to be confusion. What I’m writing here doesn’t mean the worst interpretation of these games are their defining interpretations. I’m trying to explain how the games that many people see as being antithetical to incel beliefs can have these same men as high-spending fans.

Gacha games are unique in the world of consumer media in their extremely close and constant relationship with the consumer. You have to not only love each character’s design (and sometimes story) but also be willing to drop serious gambling money to “buy” them every single month. It’s like merchandizing on steroids. I think the term “whale” has been watered down since younger kids have started playing, but these people spend thousands per patch. Over the years I’ve heard about multiple games like this being sustained by just a couple of high spenders. In 2018 there was even a western news article about a man who had spent $70k+ on FGO. The publisher can’t rock the boat too much to displease the consumer too many times without risking EoS. Every character design and story of a gacha game is affected by this FIRST while any artistic intent comes second.

A Korean woman who had lost her job due to similar “feminist hunting” tactics wrote an article describing the way these incel men think. I posted it here and part of it summarized: the men that play these games see themselves as buying and “owning” the female characters in gacha games, who are often dressed and presented to them in a highly sexualized manner and will obey their commands. In the same way they “own” these 2D women, they also want to own the thoughts of the real live female illustrators who work on the games. Therefore, if these women have expressed ideas that the male gamers find upsetting, they will be angry she doesn’t conform to what they want like the servile 2D girl and do everything to get her fired (this is where she mentions Limbus Company as the most recent example of this happening).

You can argue for some of these games, maybe the girls aren’t dressed super provocatively and give (you) shit instead of being a simpering doll, but in the end it’s not like they can physically walk away or stop speaking to you. For the “waifu” hunter guy it’s just a different type of anime girl to collect.

The stories in these games are generally not what gets targeted as much by incels. In gacha “gamer” communities, especially the Korean incel ones, their main concerns are: how revealing are the summer swimsuits? How many women work for the company designing characters? and related, Are the male characters designed for women or for men and do they “look gay”? If you search through this blog, you can see them directly speaking about these things in regards to their hatred of Genshin Impact and Star Rail. All of these have also been encapsulated in the original Limbus Company incel attack: they hated that the summer female character looked more “clothed” (wearing a skintight suit instead of a bikini) than the male summer character. They thought the collar necklace and open shirt on the male summer character meant he was “a slave” for the female viewers, so obviously it was designed by a woman. When they learned a man designed and illustrated those characters, they searched to find a female illustrator who worked in the game and went after her instead. These guys WERE FANS that played the game beforehand and didn’t think anything in the story was upsetting enough to attack the company about. They were familiar enough with the works of Project Moon to name their little group after an antagonizing force in one of PM’s previous (non-gacha) videogames. And Project Moon saw them as such a significant part of their gacha fanbase that they wrote an immediate apology and fired the artist. How do these actions in reality inform their fiction and the interpretation of it? Getting this out of the way, they were NOT in any danger, the “fans” were not clamoring to get in their offices or camping outside, they were let in and calmly had a meeting with some employees at the office. You can still find photos of them goofing around, the ridiculous write up they brought with them and a transcript of the conversation. This was not a “guy shows up at Mihoyo’s offices with a knife” situation. In the end it was a financial and moral loss for the studio with many new and longtime fans completely dropping the games and Limbus Company taking one of the biggest financial and D/MAU drops for a gacha I’ve ever seen. You can read more regarding the ramifications of this here, this post is already pretty long for this website anyway.

Again I’m not writing this to shame anyone who plays these games, loves their characters or enjoys their stories. I don’t really care either way, and I obviously find the genre interesting or else I wouldn’t have been monitoring it and the fans for a decade. I just want to shine a light on the thoughts of the more “incel” gamers that play some of these games since I have seen a lot of genuine confusion as to why they would play them. In the future my aim is to write a more in-depth post about these issues, their history and the way antifeminists think.

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 3: 'a killing spree through eternity, the devil stabs you in the back'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter 3 Summary

A minor training accident lands Adam in hot water with Sera.

Author's note:

I have a confession to make - I lied. At the end of the last chapter, I teased we'd hear the first time we'd hear Adam call Lute 'Dangertits'. I grossly underestimated how long this chapter would be, so you'll have to wait until next time for Lute's nickname. It's worth it, I promise! To everybody who has read, liked, commented, reblogged - thank you so very much!!! I hope you're enjoying reading about these two as much as I am writing them <3

Slight content warning - this chapter is Adam-centric, so expect plenty of swearing and mention of sexual activity.

***

Sera’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Adam hated waiting outside the door of Sera’s office. It usually meant one thing, and one thing only: he was in trouble.

Leaning against the wall, he turned his head and pressed the side of his helmet to the cool surface that separated him from the two occupants inside the room. Holding his breath, he remained still, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation he had been excluded from. If only he could catch a word or two, he could give himself something to work with when he was inevitably summoned before Sera to plead his case.

Shit.

Exhaling in frustration, he located his phone in the pocket of his robes, unlocked it and opened his favourite dating app. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the sight of the first profile he came across. Ah, Layla. A gorgeous brunette Exorcist, her beauty would have rendered most angels speechless as they madly tapped on her photo, hoping for a chance to connect with her.

Not Adam, however. Well, not this time, anyway.

Fucked her - twice. Swipe.

Boring. Swipe.

Into pegging a little too often for my liking. Swipe.

Ugh. The same babes, same bodies, same personalities that he’d become so familiar with over the years. It almost felt like they were all beginning to morph into the same woman, into one collective being. It didn’t matter anymore what their name was or where they came from – there was no discernible difference between any of them.

Not that they were aware he felt like that, of course. After all, he was the First Man, the Original Dick. His title alone granted him an untouchable celebrity status of sorts in Heaven – women literally threw themselves at his feet daily. As a man with needs, this suited him just fine. After an introduction, the roadmap to his bed was simple, almost formulaic: he’d flatter them, then back it up with some light flirting – never too heavy, or else they’d get the wrong idea. He was after a good time, not a long time. After the usual small talk, he’d flippantly mention something about not wanting to go home lonely, and his new lady friend would be only too obliging to accompany him not only to his home, but to his bedroom too. His method was foolproof, to say the least.

And yet, if he was perfectly honest with himself, it was also a little…boring. Sure, the women he bedded were hot, their personalities were…fine, and the sex perfectly enjoyable, but they were all totally predictable. Lately, Adam found himself craving something new, something challenging and… dare he say it, chaotic.

Too bad Heaven was as far from chaotic as realms came.

He sighed and shoved the phone back into his robes. Oh well. Better luck next time, maybe.

An abrupt scraping sound suddenly caught his attention, a tell-tale sign that the conversation inside Sera’s office was finally coming to an end.

About fucking time.

The door to his right creaked open, and without looking he knew exactly who was about to walk in the hall where he stood. He could practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he felt the hall grow colder with her nearing presence.

Lute.

The bane of his existence. A permanent thorn in his side, if you will. He was sure she’d be the eventual death of him – and given her penchant for bloody theatrics, it would be a drawn-out, brutal, excruciating demise that would have him painfully suffering until he drew his very last breath.

Well, if angels could die, anyhow. Unluckily for him, they couldn’t, which meant he was stuck with the she-devil as his second-in-command for God-knows how long. For-fucking-ever, probably.

Play it cool, dude. Just ignore her. Don’t -

“Have fun running off and telling Sera about our little incident today, Lieutenant?” he found himself blurting out, against his better judgement. “Though, I’m not surprised – coming to me first like an adult isn’t really your style, is it?”

Lute didn’t bother acknowledging his question, opting instead to salute him with a stiff middle finger over her shoulder, her other hand supporting her lower back as she walked gingerly down the hall. Adam couldn’t help but notice the slightly unnatural way her right hip rose and fell with each step that she took. Satisfied at the sight of her vulnerability, he smirked to himself as he watched her limp out of sight.

Bye, bitch.

“Adam, can you come in here please?” Sera called, interrupting his joy at relishing in his lieutenant’s injury. Anticipating the lecture he was about to endure, he rolled his eyes and strolled into Sera’s office, shutting the door behind him.

“Heyyyyy, boss-lady,” he chirped, scooting into one of Sera’s sterile office chairs. Knowing he’d have to kiss some serious ass to come out of the conversation unscathed, he took his helmet off, shaking his thick, brown hair out of his eyes, before setting it down on the adjacent chair. He never took his mask off for anybody. Ever. In fact, only Sera knew what he looked like underneath it – and that’s only because she’d been around for as long as he had.

Without fail, the women he took home would beg and plead for him to remove it during more intimate moments, but he’d gently chuckle and deflect the conversation.

‘Babe, that’s what makes this so hot, am I right? The mystery of it all? Wondering what the First Man really looks like as he fucks you?’

The line worked, every time.

Still, perhaps showing some vulnerability might win him some brownie points with his boss. “How’s my favourite Seraphim?  Busy day?” He flashed her a rare, charming smile, his golden irises twinkling, charisma oozing from every inch of his body.

“Adam,” Sera ignored his greeting completely, her interlocked fingers supporting her chin as she glared at the man opposite her. “Can you tell me about what happened in your training session just now?”

Adam’s smile faltered, and he knew by her matter-of-fact tone and pointed look that his suspicions were confirmed: he was in Trouble with a capital T. Fucking Lute, running off to tell Sera about their minor mishap. This conversation was going to be a real uphill battle if he had any chance of coming out the other end unscathed.

“Mmm, not really, no.”

“Would you like to try answering me again?”

“Ser-aaaaaaa.” Adam groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Fuck it, he had no hope of escaping without some form of reprimand. May as well drop the act. “Why are you pulling my dick about this? It was just a little accident.”

“Your lieutenant doesn’t seem to think it was an accident.”

“Yeah, well, my lieutenant can go and get fuc-”

“Adam.”

He groaned and threw his head back, the nape of his neck resting atop the frame of the chair. “What do you want from me, Sera?” He squinted up into the fluorescent lamp directly above him, attempting to distract himself from the conversation at hand.

Ah, that’s bright as fuck.

“I want you to tell me what happened this afternoon.”

“Why? So you can lecture me on how I’ve supposedly fucked up – even though this was her fault - and then punish me by making me apologise to her? Nah, I’m good thanks, boss.” Blinking rapidly to rid himself of the dark spots that danced across his vision, he sat upwards again and crossed his arms, glaring at his superior.

Sera rubbed her temples, a tell-tale sign that a dull ache was beginning behind her eyes. Not an unusual thing to happen when she was in Adam’s presence.

“Adam, please. Lute can barely walk, she’s in that much pain.”

“I saw her walk out of here just fine, she’s putting it on. Come to think of it, she would be the kind to fake it.”

To his surprise, the word ‘fake’ stirred up a recent memory; one he thought he’d filed away. It was from when Lute had unveiled the new training plan to the Exorcists. More specifically, the sound Lute had made as she massaged her head after removing her helmet. A throaty ‘mmm’ totally unlike a noise he’d ever heard her make before as she’d closed her eyes, tilted her head back and arched her spine, clearly enjoying the satisfaction the feeling gave her.

‘That sound she’d made that day wasn’t fake though, was it?’, an unfamiliar voice in his mind questioned tauntingly, sending cool shivers down the back of his neck. ‘What if you could make her moan again like that? ’

What the fuck was that?!

Adam shook his head, pushing the unexpected image out of his mind. Whatever that was, it was fucking weird, and unwelcome and wrong and…and…

“I’m not going to ask you again. Please stop with the petty name calling and tell me what happened. Now.” Sera sat back in her chair, arms folded, waiting for him to fill in the gaps of the story Lute had told her moments earlier. Welcoming the rescue from his overactive imagination, Adam wearily eyed the faint outline of many ethereal eyes beginning to etch over Sera’s body. It wasn’t often that she lost her composure, but when she did her usually calm demeanour turned from ‘mildly annoying authoritative figure’ to ‘downright frightening, head-bitch-in-charge’.

“Alright, alright, fine. Jesus Sera, put your weird-ass eyes away, you know they scare the shit out of me.”

“I would have thought after thousands of years, you’d be used to them.” Sera motioned with her hands for Adam to begin before settling them back underneath her chin, her extra eyes fading back into her hair and clothes until there was no trace of them left. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply, glancing out the window, searching desperately for something else to focus on. He’d hoped for a distraction, but the quiet streets below failed to give him inspiration for a reprieve from his inevitable interrogation.

“You’re really gonna make me do this, aren’t you?” he scowled. Sera simply raised her eyebrows in response. “Fine, today was the first day the girls were allowed to start sparring with one another. No weapons or anything badass like that, just hand-to-hand combat. Like a shitty version of a catfight.”

“Why do you think it’s taken six weeks for that to happen?”

“Um,” Adam ruffled his hair again. “She didn’t think –”

“She has a name, Adam.”

“Fucking seriously, Sera?!” he exclaimed. “You know who I’m talking about!”

“I do, but if you’re going to move forward from this incident – and I’d think about this very carefully, Adam - you need to start to refer to Lute by name.”

“Ugh, fine.” Adam rolled his eyes. He usually found great entertainment in pushing the boundaries with other people’s patience, but Sera was one of the few people with the capacity to genuinely terrify him.

Plus being unmasked meant he was without his usual layer of defence.

Focus, Dickmaster.

“So for the past six weeks, Lute – happy now? - has been getting the girls to focus on improving their physical strength. Y’know, lifting weights, high intensity exercise, yada yada yada. Said she didn’t think they were ready to move forward until she saw they were fitter – mind you, I’ve always thought they were pretty fit myself, if you know what I mean.”

“Do you think they’ve improved?”

“Mmm…” Adam rubbed his chin, considering her question, shadowy stubble prickling his hand. “Look, they can run for longer periods of time, I guess? And she – Lute – isn’t dishing out as many burpees as punishment as she used to, so I s’pose they’ve also stopped fucking around as much during training. Anyway, this afternoon Lute got the girls to pair up and she forgot she needed a partner to demonstrate the manoeuvre on. ‘Coz there were uneven numbers, I was the sucker who ended up as her training dummy.

“So she starts telling the girls that if they find themselves alone and unarmed in Hell – which, can I just say, wouldn’t fucking happen under my watch - they need to know how to knock those demon cunts out – ”

“Her colourful language or yours?” Sera grimaced in disapproval at Adam’s word choice.

“Mine. Although I’m not sure if you’re aware, Sera, but your little pet project has the filthiest mouth –”

“Back to the point, Adam.”

‘She would be filthy, wouldn’t she? Bet she fucks nasty.’ That smug voice in the back of his mind whispered again tauntingly. Adam groaned.

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“U-uh, n-nothing. Anyways - you interrupted me, remember, boss.” Adam waved a hand dismissively, recovering quickly from his outburst. “Lute tells them they need to know how to render a demon unconscious by beating the shit outta them so they can call another Exorcist for backup or escape the situation. Then, she has the fucking nerve to grab me and say, ‘allow me to demonstrate’!” He folded his arms. “She shows them where on the body to strike – can’t remember all of them, but I do remember one.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he winced. “The groin.”

“The groin,” Sera echoed.

“There was no way in Hell I was letting her get her hands on this,” Much to Sera’s horror - but not surprise - Adam gestured towards his crotch in a downwards motion with both hands, spreading his legs apart for full effect. “Literally the goods that created all of humanity, and you think I’m going to let some tiny, psycho murder machine get her vicious hands on them? Not a fucking chance! Anyways, before she got the chance to manhandle me, I got to her first.” He crossed his arms again defiantly. “I tackled that bitch to the ground.”

“Adam…” Sera groaned, putting her face in her hands, her feathery, grey hair spilling around her face onto her pristine desk. “You do realise she wasn’t going to actually hit you, don’t you?”

“Sera, have you seen her in action? Like I know you’ve read all her boring reports and shit so you know her stats and whatever, but have you actually watched her tear a demon limb-from-limb? She’s like one of those animals that plays with their prey for fun before finally putting them out of their misery and killing them. She’s a bloodthirsty motherfucker. Tackling her - it was practically self-defence!”

“Self-defence is when you protect yourself after somebody attacks you first, Adam. Did she hit you at all before you decided to tackle her?”

“Well… no.” Adam admitted, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. “I just have her figured out, and knew she would have used me as her personal punching bag.”

“Adam, I’m going to cut to the chase and be honest with you here.” An amber glow from the late afternoon sun now trickled into the room, and as Sera stood, drawing herself up to her full height, Adam couldn’t help but notice the reflection of the light flicker in her eyes. Creepy. “You need to figure out a way to work peacefully alongside your lieutenant. Fast.”

He eyed her wearily. “Why?”

What’s going on?

Sera narrowed her brows “I feel that over the years I’ve made it quite clear that I feel deeply conflicted about the yearly exterminations. Yes, it helps reduce the overpopulation problem in Hell, but given the falling numbers in recent years I can only conclude that your focus has shifted. When you pitched the idea to me, I was under the impression that it was a genuine attempt at population control. Now, it seems that it has become an excuse for you and the Exorcists to take a field trip to Hell once a year and slaughter demons for a little bit of fun. Then, when you return to Heaven, you throw a great, big, raging party and all you do for the next year is show up to work, until the next Extermination, where the cycle repeats.”

“O-kay… great story and all, but what’s that got to do with me getting along with Lute?”

“Everything. Lute’s training regime has been designed to dramatically improve stats, get back to basics and ensure we get the job done properly. If her plan is successful, and we bring Hell’s population back under control, I won’t have such a moral conflict with your yearly excursion because we’d be succeeding in what you initially proposed to do. If not…” She stared out the window, golden sunlight now illuminating her entire face in an eerie glow. “Then this upcoming Extermination Day will be the last. Which circles back to my point, Adam.” She looked him dead in the eye, holding his gaze. “If I cancel Extermination Day, you no longer have a job. Something to keep you occupied on a day-to-day basis. And I know you don’t do well with boredom.”HeH

Adam’s cheeks puffed as he exhaled deeply. Breaking eye contact with Sera, he ran a hand through his hair again. She was fucking strong-arming him. Either work with the most infuriating angel known to existence – well, second to Lucifer, or lose his job, the one stable, constant thing he’d had in his life for eons. The very job that he, up until mere moments ago, had been under the impression he’d been doing perfectly competently.

Turns out, he was a big, fat fucking failure and the future of said job rested on the tiny shoulders of his least favourite being in Heaven.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Yeah, wow.” He muttered darkly, feeling his cheeks grow warmer with anger. “Cool. Way to make a guy feel valued after centuries – actually, no, millenniaof dedication, Sera.” The familiar sound of scraping metal filled the room as he signalled the end of the meeting. He reached down and grabbed his helmet, jamming it over his head and obscuring his face from view. Despite the electronic display, he felt a sense of relief that he now hid his glowering face from the view of his boss. “Does she know about this?”

“No. I’m not putting that pressure on her, she’s under enough stress as it is. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to her.” Her direct tone implied the matter wasn’t up for negotiation, either.

“Right. So you’re worried about stressing her out, but you’re happy to pull the rug out from under my feet. Got it.” He let out a hollow laugh. Fuck, he’d really slipped down the pecking order in a short matter of weeks. All because of that infuriating, antagonistic, mouthy little bitch.

“This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly, Adam,” Sera said gently, “In fac –”

“Forgive me,” he interrupted coldly, “For saying that I don’t really give a shit how you’ve made the decision. You’re not fucking forcing me out of a job, if it’s the last thing I do.” The yellow eyes of his mask paused to glare at her, wanting her to meet his eye. Needing her to understand that he wasn’t going to take this shit lying down. He was fucking Adam, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t that count for anything anymore?

She didn’t even have the decency to look him in the eye, instead choosing to gaze at a spot somewhere above his left shoulder, her features set in a blank poker face. He scoffed, shaking his head in disgust.

Pathetic.

“I’m out. See ya.” Turning his back, Adam strode quickly towards the office door, desperate to put as much distance between himself and his boss as possible before the shock of the situation wore off and the rage kicked in.

“Where are you going?” Sera called, worry evident in her voice. Adam paused as he pushed the door open, the handle clattering slightly as he tried to suppress the anger that was beginning to radiate through his body like the fire of a thousand suns.

“To find my fucking lieutenant and get her to play nice.”

***

Next time: we really do find out how Lute earned the nickname 'Dangertits'. She should also really remember the importance of locking her door...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Plus One

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing, Only One I See, One Thing Leads To Another, One Message Waiting, One Day Closer to You, I’m the Only One

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

You smile at your phone and Inez nudges you with her elbow. You barely hide the screen as she peeks over. You turn it face down and push her off the armrest between you. 

“So you and Jake? That’s a thing?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You lie poorly.

“Don’t. He asked me for your number, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, “I didn’t know he was your type.”

“We’re friends,” you shrug, “he’s funny.”

You press your hand to your neck and look around the lecture hall, students filing in as Professor Rogers stands at the front, transfixed on his screen as the projector remains blank. It’s not like you hid Jensen, you mentioned that you ran into him and it’s not that deep. You need more friends than Inez. And he really is hilarious. Well, he knows where to find the good memes.

“Sure, funny looking,” she scoffs, “tell me, what does Professor Pretty Boy think about your new fling?”

“In,” you face her, “me and Jake are just texting and me and Professor Rogers are working together. There’s nothing going on between any of us. Besides, don’t you have your own web of lovers to get tangled in?”

“Oh, yeah, Brianna found out about Jacob, so…” she flutters her fingers carelessly, “I didn’t lie to either of them. I said we were having fun and they weren’t into having fun all together, I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t seem too broken up over it,” you remark.

“Eh, it’s college, you’re not here for life,” she dismisses, “speaking of, you should hop on Jakey Boy. He’s a nice guy, a good way to dip your toe in the water.”

“Do you ever think of anything else?” You challenge.

“Mmm, my grades would say no,” she chuckles and leans into you, “I’m just saying, if you got that puppy dog sniffing around, it’ll get the wolf off your doorstep.”

She sends a look towards the front of the class as the projector finally lights up with the week’s slides. Professor Rogers looks up and clears his throat, calling attention from the muttering rows of students. Inez turns her head, shielding her mouth behind her hand, “you don’t wanna get tied up with a professor. I’ve heard stories…” she pauses and glances behind her, “Laufeyson.”

“What?” You turn to her with a sharp whisper, “no–”

“Mm, apparently he makes the rounds on first years,” she utters flippantly, “Mona, sits in the first row in history… that was in September. I think he’s moved on to Larissa.”

“Shhh,” you hush her, “you shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

“From the mouth of babes,” she sighs, “they told me themselves.”

You frown and peer down at the podium. Professor Rogers isn’t like that. You can’t imagine him doing anything like that. He’s so awkward, you only imagine him combusting at the very thought. Laufeyson might be a dog but he’s his own breed.

💭

“I know it’s a bit cramped in here,” Steve leads you into his office, “but I have a kettle if you want some tea.”

“It’s fine, Professor,” you assure him as you leave the door open behind you, “so I sent you my lesson plan…”

“Ah, yes,” he rounds his desk and puts down his bag, “I did go over it. Just let me get set up.”

You take the chair across from him, letting your coat rumple behind you as you shed it. You take out your laptop and balance it in your lap as you feel your phone buzz. You ignore it as you power up and search through your cloud for the file. You see his icon already present in the doc.

“Got it,” he announces, “right, so, starting with horror…” His eyes scan his computer, “you’re a fan of Shelley?”

“I… I liked Frankenstein, yeah,” you answer as you watch his cursor on your screen.

“I can tell, which is good, being passionate about what you're talking about,” he says, “I might cut back a little on her personal history and spend more time on Stoker. But it’s good you touch on Gaskell…”

You start a comment on the doc, taking note of what he’s saying, “oh thanks, I’ll definitely go over that.”

“Your slides are good though, informative but not crowded,” he taps his fingers on his lower lip.

You listen to his feedback, relieved that he’s not so wound up as usual. He seems calmer somehow. You don’t know why but there’s not the usual tension. Maybe because he’s talking about what he knows.

He sits up as he pauses. He feels around his blazer and slides out his phone, “excuse me, this damn thing keeps going off. I’m just gonna turn it to–” He blinks and goes quiet, “sorry, give me a minute.”

He stands and exits without waiting for a response. You don’t think much of it. Some emergency or another. 

You slip out your phone from your coat pocket and sit back. Inez would eat her words if she was there. Professor Rogers is distracted, apathetic even. Maybe he’s just used to your presence.

You flip open the chat with Jake. ‘So, they’re having a showing of Young Frankenstein at the Film Club tomorrow night. You into it?’

Your phone bubbles with suggested responses; ‘sure’, ‘I don’t know’, ‘no, sorry, I’m busy’. You hover over them and select the textbox instead. Is he asking you out? You’re too shy to ask him directly.

‘Oh, I love Frankenstein!’ You key in, trying to repress a grin, a giddy flicker in your chest.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘It’s a hell yeah!’ You almost giggle at your own response and flinch as you hear the door click behind you.

You straighten up and rest your phone on your knee as you glance back at Steve. He forces a smile as he strides around you and places his phone face down on the desk.

“Sorry, my mother,” he shakes his head, “well, you know how parents can be.”

You nod and don’t comment. You never really thought of him having parents. Maybe that’s unfair, he’s not that old. You could laugh but you keep your face placid. Your phone vibes again and you look down at the gif flashing in the chat. Jensen is such a dweeb.

“So, ready to get back to it?” Steve asks and you look up at him. His eyes are on your phone.

Embarrassed, you tuck your cell away, “yes, sorry, it’s just Inez being silly.”

[huntingingoodwill]

paradise // paralysed (k.k.)

masterlist

send in asks for my 1.3k sleepover 💕

pairing: yan! kurt kunkle x (hints of mean!) reader

“Kurt, come pick me up.” You mumbled into the receiver, voice raspy with exhaustion. You pressed your temple against the graffitied wall of the phonebooth, heavy eyelids falling shut. You fingered the ridges of the metal cord that spiralled out of the weighty phone. 

“I can’t do that, babe… I’m in the middle of a ride.” He fumbled through his excuse, glancing nervously at the rear-view mirror, his last rider’s limp body curled in the backseat. 

He looked out the windshield, watching you stand in the glow of a streetlight. With his headlights off, shrouded in the darkness of the alley across the street, you hadn’t even noticed him as he watched you leave work, rummaging through your pockets for some change before slotting the coins, one-by-one, into the payphone. His heart pounded as his phone rang after you dialled. You were thinking of him. He was the first one you called. You loved him back.

“Pick me up, Kurt.” You bit out through gritted teeth. 

He had only intended to sit outside your work for a half an hour before heading to the junkyard to dispose of the body, hoping he’d catch a glance of you through the window, or get to watch you have a smoke break. He wasn’t expecting you to call him. He couldn’t pass up on it, though. He was lucky you wanted him. 

“...Okay.” He whispered, conceding almost immediately. “Ten minutes.”  

He circled around the car, flashing a smile to the backseat cameras before shoving the leaden body out of the car, positioning it behind a dumpster, under cover of darkness.

He kept the headlights off, the car just a silhouette as he circled the block, only flicking them back on as he approached you to make it look like he had just arrived. 

“You’re lucky I was in the area!” His voice was cheery enough to give you a headache. You slumped into the passenger seat, eyes screwed shut, not responding to him as he fell quiet, eyes running over your profile. He leaned over to fasten your seatbelt before starting the car. 

You sighed, eyes fluttering open as you reached out your hand, finger lazily turning on his radio. You flipped to the oldies channel, the saccharine vocals of an 80s pop song blaring to life through the speakers, bright, lively synth cutting through the silence. 

He turned the music off. 

You glared at him, reaching out for the radio dial to turn it back on.

“Babe, c’mon…” He said, taking your hand before it could reach the stereo. He tried to lace his fingers with yours, but you wriggled out of his grasp, annoyed. “The fans don’t like this kind of music.” 

Your eyes flew open. 

“The fans?”

“Y-yeah.” 

“You didn’t turn them off? Seriously?” You asked, reaching out toward the camera in front of you. You knew he streamed, but you thought he’d at least have the decency to turn them off when picking you up. “Christ, Kurt-” 

“Put the camera down, (Y/N).” He muttered. He kept his eyes on the road. 

“I can’t believe you-” You spat, fumbling for the “off” button, hating the way it felt to have the lens aimed at you as the camera’s red light blinked mockingly. 

“Put the camera down, (Y/N).” He snapped. 

You jumped. He never took on that tone with you. He was usually so sweet, so gentle. You withdrew your hands, folding them in your lap as you stared out the windshield. 

“How was work?” He asked, the brightness in his voice returning so quickly you wondered if you had just imagined the harsh ring to it in his last sentence.

“I quit. How do you think it was?” You shot back, patience running thin. You didn’t look at him, flippantly playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“What?”

“Well, I can’t just keep working there. I’m moving away.” You said, matter-of-factly. 

His grip loosened on the steering wheel, and you felt the car begin to veer, the wheel bumping against the sidewalk as you began to swerve. 

“Jesus Christ, Kurt!” You exclaimed, reaching over to steer you back into the lane. His hands tightened around it, knuckles white as he anxiously drummed his long fingers against it. You stared at him, blinking at him in shock as his jaw tightened. 

“Stop here.” You huffed, nodding at a parking lot you were nearing.

For a moment, the both of you sat, quiet in the stillness of the parked car. You kept your eyes trained on the food truck parked nearby, the lines of chattering, slightly-drunk people, the neon lights of its sign casting Kurt in a pink glow. 

“I thought we went over this, Kurt.” You broke the silence, voice sad and gentle, like you were speaking to a child. 

“I didn’t think you were serious!” 

“Why wouldn’t I be-” You inhaled, stopping yourself before you worked yourself up over it, tamping down the anger that bubbled in your stomach. “I'm leaving, Kurt. Really. I’ve got the plane ticket booked. My suitcase is packed. You can’t continue being in denial about this. It’s happening."

“What, so you’re breaking up with me?” His voice cracked in desperation. 

“I told you you could come with me.” Your voice quiet. Next to him, his body brimming with pain, his fingers trembling like he could barely contain it, you felt impossibly small. 

“But-” You heard his sadness bubble in his throat, the word coming out as a gasp. “I can’t just pick up and move to the middle of nowhere! I’d never be able to make it over there-”  

“You’re not even gonna make it here!” You yelled, watching him flinch as the words stung him. “It’ll be paradise out there.” You nodded, determined in your self-assurance. “Aren’t you tired of doing all this?” You gestured at the cameras, their lenses trained on you like wide, curious eyes. You imagined how you looked on stream. Pitying, probably. “Isn’t it hell, to keep trying? To be surrounded by all these shitheads, trying to prove something to them? If you come with me, you won’t have anything to prove. We can forget about it.” 

He let his head fall to the steering wheel, drooping forward. You watched his shoulders shudder. 

“Turn off the cameras, Kurt.” You felt numb. You were giving up on him, you could feel it. Your emotions began to dissolve. 

He looked up, staring out the windshield. His cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes dull and blank. He reached up, flicking the cameras off. 

“I’m not leaving.” He mumbled.

“Fine.” You shrugged. “Well I won’t make you drive me to the airport or anything. Just…drive me home, and I’ll get a Spree once I get to my charger. My phone’s dead.”  You sighed offhandedly, settling into your seat. 

“That’s good.” He said coolly, starting the car up. He pulled a sudden sharp u-turn, the force of it causing you to slam into the passenger door. The sound of screeching tires and the horns of the other drivers he completely disregarded as he cut across their lanes to make the dangerous turn sounded out around you. 

“Shit!” You gasped, chest heaving from the adrenaline. “What is wrong with you?!” 

You swallowed thickly, the breath knocked out of you as you registered his words. “What do you mean, ‘That’s good’?”  

“It’s good that your phone’s dead.” He said nonchalantly, nodding as if it were obvious.”It’ll make this easier.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked out the car window, watching the buildings zip by as Kurt pressed his foot into the accelerator. 

“Kurt, this isn’t the way to my house.” You protested, noting the difference in the route. 

“Yeah.” He hummed casually. “We’re going to mine.” 

You sighed, screwing your eyes shut. 

“C’mon Kurt, I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to go back to yours tonight. There’s nothing else I have to say. Just take me back to my house, the plane leaves-” 

“You’re not leaving.”  

You felt yourself still. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not leaving.”  

Your heartbeat stuttered.

“Kurt, just take me home-” 

“I am taking you home.” He turned to you. His brown eyes, the same that once seemed so sweet, were dark, hollow pits. “You live with me now.” He said it like he believed it, like it was the truth. You were going to stay with him. If you liked it or not. 

You opened your mouth, but all that could escape was a shaky breath. 

“I’m not letting you leave.” He spoke. “I’m never letting you go.” 

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 127: Fake Dating

"It's just annoying," Draco continued as he and Harry packed up for the night. "Literally every single party or brunch, I am hounded about when I'll start dating someone." He slammed his desk drawer closed, "I'm a bloody auror! I haven't got time to date anyone," he groaned. "And now I have this party tonight and I just know-"

"I'll go with you," Harry offered.

He broke off and stared at the other man. "What?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug, "I'll go and be your pretend boyfriend, it would be easy to fake that we're dating since we already know everything about each other."

"But," he started, tilting his head at the other man, "Then people will think we're dating."

"I thought that was the point?"

He stared at Harry, waiting for it to click. When no click was forthcoming he said "but then people would think you're dating me."

"Am I missing something here?"

He rolled his eyes, "I don't think you quite understand what dating me entails."

"Ah, need to be pampered, darling? Wined and dined? Roses on Tuesday and dinner on Friday nights? I could bring you coffee in the morning-"

"I- What?" Draco spluttered. "No! No. Merlin, that's not what I'm saying, although, yes if we're being honest I want to be absolutely doted upon," he added.

"Obviously."

"Wait," he said, shaking his head to clear it, "You're missing the fucking point."

(Read more below the cut)

"Sorry," Harry said, smirking at him and not looking sorry at all, "What's the point?"

"The point," Draco said, poking him in the chest, "Is that dating me is not a pleasant experience."

"Oh come on," Harry teased, "You're not that bad."

"I am a fucking delight," he replied, exasperated, "I am saying that the press will make your life hell."

"Ah," he said, nodding, "I have no idea what dealing with the press is like."

"The press has been kind to you for at least the past decade because of the whole saving the world nonsense," Draco replied as he opened the door and held it open for Harry.

"Except for the lurid months after I came out and all sorts of lies were spread about me," Harry replied wryly.

He shook his head and headed toward the floos, "Even those were mostly flattering," he added with a lewd glance.

Harry laughed, "Whatever. My point," he said, poking him in the shoulder, "is that I'm not afraid of the press." He bumped his shoulder against Draco's, "Come on. What have you got to lose?"

"Fine," he huffed but his stomach was silently doing back flips while his heart did a complicated tap routine in his chest. "Meet me at the Screaming Goblin at 7:00pm sharp." He stepped toward the floo and turned, "Don't dress like a homeless person," he added before stepping into the floo.

---------------

Harry did not dress like a homeless person. In fact it was quite the opposite.

Harry looked fucking hot.

He was wearing tight dark-wash jeans and a lightweight jumper that hugged his body, making his strong, broad shoulders look even broader and his trim waist even narrowed. He'd done his hair, putting enough product in his curls to make them look artfully tousled and not a mess. And he'd arrived before Draco but instead of waiting, he'd gone in and bought Draco's friends a round and was sitting and yammering away at them.

As Draco approached, Harry turned his head and gave him a wide grin, "Hey, babe," he said, standing up and pulling out Draco's chair for him.

"Hi," he said weakly.

Harry pressed a kiss to his temple and a thrill shot through Draco's body as his brain went pleasantly fuzzy.

And thank Merlin for Harry because Draco hardly answered a question all night, hardly even heard a question all night because he was too busy focusing on the way it felt to have Harry's fingers trailing through the hair at the base of his skull. Harry talked and laughed with Draco's friends like they'd all been friends for ages as he sat with his arm resting on the back of Draco's chair.

When it was time to go, Harry helped Draco into his coat and bid all of the former Slytherins goodbye as he wrapped his arm through Draco's.

The bar wasn't far from Draco's but still Harry murmured, "Can I walk you?"

And Draco found himself charmed into saying yes.

Harry hummed, quiet now that all of Draco's friends were gone, but he still kept his arm looped through Draco's as they walked. When they arrived at Draco's front door Harry asked, "Everything alright?"

Draco's eyes snapped to his and he nodded, "I just can't believe how well they took to you."

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and grinned up at Draco from the bottom step, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, I can be very charming, what can I say?"

"It's a little strange-" Draco started but Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth and every word that Draco knew disappeared.

"Don't overthink it," he said with a wink. Then he turned and started off down the sidewalk calling, "See you tomorrow," over his shoulder.

Draco was half way to bed before he realized that there was no one watching when Harry kissed him on his door step.

------------

They spent the next two weeks fake dating and it was the best dating experience Draco had ever had. Harry was sweet and doting, just like Draco had said he wanted and Draco enjoyed that thoroughly.

But what he hadn't expected enjoying as much as he did was being good to Harry in return. While Draco loved to be praised and brought little treats, Harry loved to be touched. He melted when Draco ran his fingers through his hair; when Draco held his hand, he got a huge dopey grin on his face that took hours to disappear; and even a casual touch, fingers trailing over the small of his back when Draco walked by, made his lips twitch up as he leaned into the touch.

Draco was quickly, and disconcertingly, becoming addicted to those smiles.

Smiles were in short supply that day, though. The case they'd worked had been tough. Harry was scowling at the folder splayed out in front of him, his jaw clenched as he filled in paperwork.

"Hey," Draco murmured as he slipped behind him and slowly rubbed Harry's shoulders.

Harry dropped his quill and leaned back into the touch, "Hey," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

He nodded, "I just hate the ones with kids."

"They're going to be alright, though," he said.

"Yeah," he agreed, "But it just brings up bad memories." He shook his head and covered Draco's hand with his own. "Want to get out of here?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked as he combed his fingers through Harry's soft curls.

Harry tipped his head back to look up at Draco, "this is nice," he said softly. "Want to go back to mine and I'll make you dinner? Then I'll lay with my head on your lap and you can stroke my hair?" he asked wistfully and Draco's heart stuttered in his chest.

"That sounds an awful lot like dating."

"Yeah," Harry affirmed.

"But there's no one there-"

Harry pulled away, breaking Draco's contact with him, "You're right," he said, nodding as he stood up and started shoving files into his bag. "Forget it."

"Harry-"

"No, it's fine," he said, giving him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. I'm just," he shrugged helplessly. "Forget it," he repeated as he grabbed his bag and headed to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"But-" Draco started before realizing it was useless because Harry was gone. He packed up his things and headed home, this was what he should have been worried about; pretending to be dating had been a terrible idea.

When he got home he flooed Pansy and told her everything. "And now I don't know what to do," he finished, imaging Harry at home all alone make dinner.

"You're such an idiot," Pansy groaned.

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes. "You do know that we all knew you thought it was fake, don't you."

"What?"

"We all knew. Potter told us that first night when we met up for drinks," she said.

He frowned, "Why? Why would he say that? And why haven't you said anything?"

"Because he asked us not to. He said he was really into you, or whatever," she said flippantly, "And that he thought he could win you over by showing you how great dating him could be. He begged us to play along."

He stared at her, mouth open, "He feels the same?" he breathed.

"Yeah," she said. "Obviously."

"I've got to go," he said, abruptly ending the call so he could floo to Harry's flat.

He stumbled out of the floo and immediately called for the other man, "Harry!" he shouted, heading toward the kitchen. "Harry!"

The other man's head appeared outside of the kitchen doorway, "Draco?" he asked as though he couldn't believe his ears.

Draco took one look at him and then closed the gap between them in three steps before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

Harry dropped whatever he'd been holding and it shattered at their feet but Draco didn't care because he was kissing Harry Potter and that was all that mattered at the moment. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss and Harry met him with the same.

"Me too," he gasped when he pulled back.

"What?" Harry asked, looking a bit dazed and Draco could hardly blame him.

"I'm into you too," he said. "Or whatever you said to Pansy that first night."

"I told them I was in love with you," he confessed. "You still want to own that?"

He nodded and threw himself at Harry again, kissing him and wrapping his arms tight around his neck.

The next time they parted Harry asked hopefully, "So, do you want to stay for dinner?"

"How about I stay forever?" he asked, grinning wide at the other man.

He nodded, "Even better."

--------------------

Day 126: Arranged Marriage | Day 128: Snake

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 21.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Yoongi and Sera heart to heart?, Lots Of Money Thrown Around, A Surprise Guest, Suggestive Content, Crying Yoongi, Fluff

A/N: Always the biggest thanks to my babes @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx, @ppersonna

There is nothing Yoongi hates more than public spectacles. He really detests it.

He hates how fake people are at these events. Especially when they're looking for something to get out of them.

People use these specially coordinated events to prove how much money they have and to show how much better they are then the others attending. It's all smoke and mirrors.

But this event today is different. It's practically painful for him. For him to have to go with the leech and not you… it hurts his entire being.

You didn't speak much at breakfast. You didn't speak at lunch. He could see you practically vibrating with nervousness and it breaks his heart.

He knows you well enough now to know that yesterday won't mean a goddamn thing when you get into the thick of it. When you see the sea of rich stupid fucks -- you'll forget everything. And he can't bear to see your face when it happens.

"I love you," he tells you for the umpteenth time as he fixes his skinny black tie.

The gown that covers your body is simply breathtaking. You're breathtaking.

"I love you too, Yoongi." you whisper, turning to him.

He can hear the nervousness in your voice and it renders him almost incapable of looking at you.

"Y/N." he breathes out.

You smile at him then and he scoffs.

"Don't… Don't do that. Don't do that fake shit with me." he practically begs.

You snort gently, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be positive. But it's hard."

He nods, running his hands over your belly. "I know you are, little dove. Listen, it's only one night and when it's all over I'm going to come into bed and lay with you and only you. I'm going to sleep beside my woman and my child. Alright?"

"YOONGI, LET'S GO!" Sera screams and his eyes flutter shut.

"In a few months, we won't have to be apart. Alright? We can go to these ridiculously tedious events together." he mumbles, tilting your chin up to look at him.

You hum in agreement, nodding to him. He kisses your lips passionately and it grounds you even for a moment. He loves you and you love him. That's what will get you through this evening.

"Just a few hours." you speak aloud, more for yourself than for your boyfriend.

"That's right, gorgeous. Just a few simple hours." he replies, kissing you once more.

"ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"

His teeth grit as he pulls away from you and he shakes his head slowly.

"You'll be having much more fun than me I'm sure. I have to chaperone a kid all night long." he jeers and finally you smile properly.

"Ready Freddy?" Jin asks peeking into your closet.

You hum to him, watching Yoongi fix his suit jacket.

"Just remember how much I love you, hmm?" he quips, bending down to your belly.

"I love you, kiddo. I'll see you in a few hours. Don't miss daddy too much okay, I'll be around." he tells your son, kissing at your clothed stomach.

He scoffs loudly when he hears Sera scream once more. "Stupid fucking bitch," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

"Love you!" you call to him as he leaves.

"And I love you, little dove. So much so it hurts me."

"HELLO?!" Sera screams.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LEECH. I'M COMING. GODDAMN!"

Not even the biggest limo would give Yoongi enough space from his wife.

He can barely stand to look at her. But she takes up such a large chunk of his peripheral vision and her constant huffing and puffing is irritating.

When she huffs again, he just about loses all of his sanity. "What?! Why are you stealing so much oxygen?! Jesus Christ!"

Sera turns to him, scowling at his calm demeanor. "I hate you!" she seethes.

"Same. So stop huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf." he retorts, crossing his legs.

God, he misses you.

Sera watches him pull out his wallet and she can hardly contain her scoff.

His thumb drifts over the sonogram picture and he sighs loudly, leaning back into the leather seat. He misses his son.

"Why did you take my money away?" Sera barks out.

Her grating voice makes him cringe and he feels offended to have to look away from his son's photo to have to look at her. "Because you make enough money on your own and it's time you stop leeching."

The car is riddled with tension and the driver puts up the soundproof glass between them and him. Yoongi finds it fair, he wouldn't want to listen to Sera either.

"That's my money too." Sera bickers.

Yoongi pulls out a cigar, lowering his window. You're not around and he can finally smoke just one again which will probably help with his anxiousness and anger.

"It was your money. Now it is not." he replies simply, lighting the Cuban cigar.

"You were always fine with our arrangement! I don't know what's changed!" his wife scoffs.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut. Fine? He hasn't been fine since their wedding day.

"Excuse me?" he growls, turning to look at her.

"You always seemed like you were perfectly content with us being the way we were. Now everything has changed." she says flippantly, looking down at her nails.

"I fell in love. Of course I wouldn't be happy with you beating me over the head for money and using me for status. After the night before our wedding, I've been stuck with you. You think I wanted to be in a loveless marriage?!" he chastises.

She blushes furiously, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders.

For fucks sake, he cannot get through this night without you. He doesn't know why he pretended he could. You're the only thing tethering him to the fucked up planet and now without you he's going to just fly away.

"Well, you never got rid of me." the actress caterwauls, folding her arms.

Yoongi begins to laugh, ashing his cigar out the window. It's a humorless, cold laugh but a laugh nonetheless.

"I couldn't get rid of you. Because you threaten people and use them for your liking so you can get what you want! You're honestly the most disgraceful, undignified thing I've ever met in my life. You're an actual fucking bloodsucker. You always bitch and complain about Y/N and how she's a 'gold digger' but my woman doesn't even want my fucking money. It's you, who always has. And that's probably the reason why Jin doesn't even fucking want you."

Ouch.

That's gonna sting.

"EXCUSE ME?!" she screeches at the top of her lungs.

It feels good for Yoongi to get all of this off his chest. It feels like the biggest relief in ages. He's always held it in so he wouldn't have to hear her incessant screams but at the end of tonight he'll get to cuddle up in bed with his woman and his growing baby and he couldn't really care any longer.

"Jin. He said you have no relationship to my grandmother because he hates the person you are, Sera. I should tell him about what you did to me the night before our wedding. That'd really make him run for the hills." Yoongi fumes.

Sera is fast, especially in the way she jumps across the whole long limo to sit beside her estranged husband.

"P-Please. Don't tell him." she stutters.

Your boyfriend snorts loudly, clamping the cigar between his teeth and looking down at the sonogram picture once more.

He rolls his eyes gently, this isn't his fight. He couldn't give a care in the world for what Sera wants. He hates her… But if she can get out of his hair…

"Maybe." he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yoongi." Sera whines, grabbing for his wallet.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth, widening his eyes at her. "Never touch my wallet. Never touch my son's pictures." he seethes, pushing himself across to the opposite seat.

Sera swallows thickly, watching his anger expand ten fold. He really loves his baby… As any father should.

"Please don't tell Jin!" she whines, gripping her clutch to her breasts.

He can sense her fear, he can practically see her shiver and it humors him.

"Why not? He already knows you're a bitch." he jeers, lowering the window.

She's an incessant whiner. Apparently when it comes to Seokjin.

"But, I don't want him to look down on me for it."

"And why not? Everyone that knows you already does?" Yoongi jeers.

What's with her being so nervous? Does Seokjin actually mean something to her?

"I want him to… see me differently." she replies, turning her nose up to her husband.

"Then change how you behave. Men don't want a fucking brat every day of their lives. All the men you liked, all the men you've had under your skirt… They didn't really like you. They just wanted your attention for a little while. You have to change yourself. That's what would make a man want you." Yoongi murmurs, throwing his cigar out the window.

"You liked me!" his wife accuses.

"That's before I knew who you actually are. You'll never get a real man if you continue on this way. You'd better make sure Seokjin knows how much you want to be with him or like him for that matter… he will leave the mansion if you don't."

Sera opens her mouth to retort but she can think of nothing. Because Yoongi is right. She's always been this way.

"We're here, Sir Min." Sera's driver announces and he hums in agreement.

"I don't know what the fuck happened to you when you were a kid Kim Sera. But be a better person." the CEO announces, gripping onto the door handle.

The constant bulbs of flashing light remind him of where he is and he groans long and low, shoving the door open.

You really don't want to do this. You struggled against Seokjin the whole way he dragged you to his car.

"If you look upset when you get there, the camera will catch it. What will you do if your son looks back at these pictures from tonight? He's going to see how sad you were, Princess." Jin chastises, pulling up to the large museum.

You're more than grateful for the black tinted windows that shroud you from the flashing lights that seem to assault from all angles.

"God, I hate pictures." you breathe out.

"Just smile and wave, you're an upcoming artist. Think of it that way. Instead of worrying about Yoongi and Sera. Okay?" your best friend asks.

That's a good idea.

"Sesame, we're going to see daddy in a few minutes. Okay?" you whisper, putting your hand to your stomach.

Jin chuckles gently, smoothing his hair down in the rear view mirror. "Good. I like that, just keep thinking about the baby above all." your best friend says finitely, opening his door.

You watch him round the car, smiling and waving handsomely to the many cameras that capture his every move. You take note of this. You can remember a time when you ran away from cameras with Leena around… Maybe you should embrace them this time.

"Okay, let's go bid on some overpriced garbage, Sesame's mom." Seokjin jeers, opening your door.

Planting your foot outside of the car, you accept your best friend's hand to help you climb out. The flashes from the cameras are positively blinding.

"Jesus," you whisper.

"Just smile and wave. Like you own the universe," Jin whispers through clenched teeth as he waves.

You take his advice, smiling and waving to the multitude of people that call for different angles of you.

"MISS THING!"

You turn quickly to the scream, a genuine smile plastering to your face. "Leena Beena!" you whine happily.

She practically throws herself out of the Bugatti she arrived in. You were so nervous about tonight that you didn't even ask who would be here, but now that both of your best friends from childhood are here you can maybe relax. Just a little bit.

"Look at you!" Leena cheers, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands falter to your belly and you roll your eyes at her excitement.

"My nephew is getting so big!" she coos, pulling you towards the entrance.

"Yu Leena," Taehyung calls her, getting out of the Bugatti.

"Look at her belly!" Leena calls back, stamping her feet on the ground.

You give Taehyung a small wave and he does the same, flashing a large smile.

"Come on!" your best friend cheers, pulling you into the museum.

The loud classical music that sweeps through the entire hall makes you feel as if you're at home. You know Yoongi really cherishes classical music, it was a way for him to keep calm after interacting with his parents when he was younger.

"You just stick with me the whole night!" Leena announces, hooking her arm underneath yours.

There's so many faces and so many different colors that you could practically have an overload on your senses. If Leena wasn't practically joined at your hip, you'd want to run away almost immediately.

Your eyes linger on all of the pieces on sale for auction, they're all lined up on carts with white fabric draped over them for secrecy.

"How much of my money are you going to spend?" you hear Taehyung jeer.

Your best friend clicks her teeth, grabbing a champagne glass off a tray as a waiter whizzes by.

"As much as I'd like to, Kim Taehyung." she replies, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"As you wish, my lady." he replies sweetly, winking at you for extra effect.

You find yourself giggling at their silly interactions before your eyes reach your boyfriend. Your stomach rolls at the sight of him hooking his arm around Sera's waist. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to her though, he's having a heated conversation with Jeongguk. Your heart aches at the sight, especially when Sera's hand, adorning her large engagement ring, slides over his shoulder.

To comfort yourself your hand slides below your stomach but it doesn't stop your anxiousness.

It's hard to rip your gaze away. But you only do so when someone calls your name.

"Y/N? Is that correct?"

You feel pitiful when Yoongi doesn't notice you. Like he's in his own world and he couldn't care less about anything around him.

"This is her!" Leena exclaims, turning you towards the voice.

"Y/N, this is So Kyulsoo. He's a very famous art distributor who works with upcoming artists." Taehyung notifies you.

You bow your head to him, trying to find something to smile about. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. So."

"It's me who has the honor! I saw your paintings at Luck Art Studio and I was floored at how simply gorgeous they are." Kyulsoo gushes.

The compliment makes the tips of your ears burn. It's so rare to hear compliments and want to accept them. But the man that stands before you is chic and unyielding.

"Thank you so much, that's so sweet to hear. I'm so glad you liked them." you whisper, clutching onto Leena harder.

"I'd give you my business card but that would be rude at an event like this. I'll call Myeyoung on Monday to talk about buying some of your art!" Kyulsoo says happily, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off a waiters plate.

"That'd be wonderful. She's also creating the art for the new Gangnam Mall and Hotel." Taehyung announces.

You are so not great at business talk but you're grateful for the hotel CEO at this moment.

You watch as Kyulsoo's eyes widen at the news. "Well! I'll have to buy as much art as I can! I think we have a new famous artist coming up in our midst!" he cheers and you smile gratefully.

"There's a piece up for auction tonight," Jin adds, rubbing your upper back.

"Well my wife will have to deal with losing a couple thousand, won't she?" Kyulsoo jeers, winking at you.

Your giggle makes the others around you brighten up and you're incredibly grateful for your friends.

You give the art distributor a wave goodbye before turning back to the large crowd who continues to chat loudly.

When you spot Yoongi's grandmother, you bow your head to her and you don't miss the coy smirk she gives back. She's on the arm of an older man that you deem to be your boyfriend's grandfather. He looks incredibly serious and dominating.

"Please don't come over here," you whisper under your breath.

Turning back to the CEO, you watch as he laughs with Jimin. His arm is still nestled around Sera and his fingers are splayed out as if he's comfortable.

"Why don't we go mingle? Hmm?" Leena asks, noticing how wrought you become on her arm.

You scoff gently turning away from the sight before you.

"He doesn't even notice that I'm here." you accuse, grabbing a sparkling water.

"I'm sure he does, he's just playing a part, princess." Jin assures you, pulling both of his best friends away from the sight.

"Can you let me go?" Yoongi seethes through his teeth, trying to wriggle his arm out from beneath Sera's.

"No." she says simply.

He scoffs loudly, looking away from Jimin to search for you. You're nowhere to be seen and it fills him with dread.

It's been maybe twenty minutes since the start of the night and he feels so empty.

"I should introduce Anna to Y/N before we leave." Jimin calls the father of your child.

"If you can fucking find her, I've been looking for her for forever." Yoongi whines softly, turning to his friend.

"She was watching you but I don't think she liked what she saw." Anna announces.

Yoongi's heart plummets at her words. Jimin shushes her gently, placing his hand on her large stomach.

"Anna." he chides softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm just saying. Why spend your time with a peasant when a queen is in your midst." Anna calls loudly, kissing Yoongi on the cheek goodbye.

Sera looks over with wide eyes, sneering at Jimin's pregnant wife.

"It's… It's the pregnancy hormones." he bleats, widening his eyes to his friend as an apology.

Your boyfriend chuckles, gripping onto his estranged wife's side and pulling his arm away from her.

"Min Yoongi." she seethes through her teeth, turning away from the group of girls that have flocked around her.

"I need more liquor to be in your presence." he replies with equal grit.

He fixes his suit jacket, looking over the crowd. Shaking his head, he sighs. You must be upset… And his heart breaks at the thought.

When he approaches the bar, he's grateful for the small freedom he's gotten.

Hearing Sera talk so incessantly is like having a mosquito constantly flying by your ear that you swat at it but it doesn't ever go away.

"Whisky on the rocks." he tells the bartender, turning towards the large crowd.

He's said hello to most of the people that litter the floor but not all of them and he dreads knowing he'll have to.

"Yoongi."

The sound sends chills through his body.

"Mother." he addresses, grabbing his glass of whisky.

He can feel his whole internal system shutting down. No one puts fear in him like his parents. It's just a conditioned response to fear them at this point.

"I hear you're ruining our family." she announces.

His tongue licks at his lips nervously and he doesn't know if he has the strength to look at the woman who watched him get beat without a second thought.

Sometimes he can't remember what she looks like and it's the most comforting feeling in the world.

"Oh?" he asks, keeping his back to her.

"Will you continue to cower in front of me? People might think you hate me." she scoffs.

His shaking hand clutches the whisky glass tighter and he downs the burning alcohol in two large gulps.

"One more, please." he practically begs the bartender.

"What do you want?" he inquires, turning to look at the crowd.

He can see her out of the corner of his eyes and he can feel his stomach become queasy.

"An explanation." she says simply.

"I'm doing what's best for me and what's best for my family." he insists, pushing off of the bar.

"Well. Looks like you've grown into a man with my help." his mother says, folding her arms.

He lets out a loud laugh. "You mean Maya's help. Stay away from the mother of my child, Mother. She isn't one for you to think so lowly of." he threatens, walking away.

"Are you threatening me, son?" she calls to him, pulling his arm to look at her.

He's taller than her by all accounts and so it's easy to look past her and keep his eyes trained there. He couldn't stomach looking at her.

"I'm not threatening you, Mother. We all live our own lives. You live with your four young boyfriends and your decisions and I live with my decisions. I hope you have a safe flight back to France."

He bows his head to her and the scoff she emits makes him want to whimper.

"Well… I guess I'll send you a wedding present when the time comes." she says, fixing her shawl.

"Please. Don't bother." he seethes through his teeth, catching sight of you.

He sighs with great relief, heading off towards you.

"I have so many new pieces of furniture you must see!" Go Artemis gushes.

You've become fond of this woman in such a short time. She went to school with all of you and you never noticed how absolutely quirky she is.

"I'd love to see them." you reply earnestly, sitting down on the marble bench.

Your ankles were really starting to fucking hurt.

"I'll send you a catalog!" Artemis cheers, pulling her phone out of her handbag.

"Okay, Art. Take a breath. This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Y/N." Yoona says with a laugh.

Artemis nods happily, clutching onto her handbag tighter. She seems to be vibrating on a frequency you've never seen before.

"Alright, cousin, why don't we get you a glass of champagne." Namjoon says, pulling her away with a smile.

"Bye, Y/N! See you later!" Joon's cousin exclaims.

"Bye Art!" you reply with a giggle, waving her off.

"She's fun," you tell your best friend who leans against the marble column.

"You should see her at family dinners. I learn every single material a piece of furniture can be made from." Yoona jeers, nudging Leena.

"Little dove."

The voice makes you want to weep. You stand up quickly, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. He looks flustered and completely incapable of standing on his own.

"Are you alright?" you whisper, widening your eyes at the CEO.

He looks around quickly, making sure no one notices him before he's pulling you away from everyone.

"Yoongi!" you hiss, looking back at the crowd.

You notice his grandmother narrowing her eyes at the both of you and you swallow thickly at how much in trouble you could get in.

You let yourself be pulled by him throughout many hallways until he reaches a blocked off room. He shoves the door open, pulling you in with him.

There are old Greek and Italian marble statues that sit artistically dotted around the large room.

When he closes the door without a sound, he turns to you. His eyes are soft and his expression looks so terrified, you don't know what to do.

"Baby," he whimpers and you open your arms immediately.

He accepts the invitation, wrapping himself in your embrace.

"I saw her. I was so scared." he gasps, burying his face in your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut at how his body wracks within your grasp. "Who?"

"My mother." he breathes out and you sigh gently.

You hug him tightly, running your fingers through his hair.

When he feels your fingertips against his scalp, he thinks he might be able to breathe again.

"I c-couldn't… I had to… I needed you." he whines, running his hands over your back.

The simple terror in his voice makes you want to cry. He's so fragile.

"I'm right here." you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He nods softly, running his hands from your back to your belly. He scoffs gently, kissing the soft skin of your neck.

"You must be so mad at me." he murmurs, pulling away to look at you.

You were annoyed, you were hurt but now when he's in your arms like this… it isn't possible to be upset with him.

"Not anymore," you reply honestly.

He hums gently, cupping your face with both of his hands.

"I love you." he breathes out, leaning in to kiss you.

"I love you, too." you reply.

His lips are gentle and soft against yours, you could feel all of his emotions so far from this night passing to you and you accept them willingly.

Then from his soft touch, it becomes needy. It becomes sharp and demanding.

"Little dove," he gasps, shoving you back against the closest wall.

His forehead presses to yours and his hands are absolutely quick with lustful intentions as he balls up the skirt of your gown in his hands.

"God. I've been so fucking lonely all night." Yoongi groans, running his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

"Yoongi, we shouldn't, someone could catch us!" you whisper fiercely.

Your head lolls back when he cups your pussy.

"I don't care. I feel like I've been away from you for years." he seethes, kissing down your neck.

You whimper gently, your back arching off of the wall at his touch.

"I'm so upset that you were mad at me, I'm so sorry, little dove." he groans, running his hands over your bump.

You gasp gently, eyes fluttering shut at how sensual his hands are on your skin.

"HI MRS. MIN, I'M LOOKING FOR YOUR GRANDSON!" you hear Jimin scream.

Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth, backing away from you in an instant. He fixes your dress, eyes on your face as he cringes.

"As am I Park. Have you seen him?" Seyoung asks through the door.

Yoongi holds his breath, pulling you behind a large statue. You cup your hands over your mouth, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"No, I haven't but if I do see them, I will let you know!" Jimin calls to her.

You can hear her muffled hum through the door and the distant sound of heels clacking on the floor.

"You're safe, you perverts." Jimin whispers fiercely through the door.

You smack Yoongi's chest a multitude of times before looking back into his eyes. There's silence for a second before both of you burst forth with a case of the giggles.

"Oh my God," he chuckles, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, gorgeous."

It's gotten a little easier to be alone with your friends without Yoongi.

It's just the simple fact of knowing that you had a secret rendezvous not long ago that keeps you going. You notice that he's also made an effort to look at you from time to time, even secretly.

"Hey guys." you hear from behind you and your whole party turns to look at him.

"Hey Yoongles," Yoona cheers, setting her glass of champagne down.

"A lot of people have been coming up to me about the artwork for the mall." he quips.

And everyone realizes this is all a ploy to be able to talk to you.

"God, it's like we don't even exist." Leena teases, pulling her boyfriend's arm around her waist tighter.

"Looks like you're already more famous than we thought." the CEO quips, sipping his whisky.

"Oh yeah! Speaking of famous. Kim Bongjoo came by the office yesterday and was very interested in my latest painting." Namjoon announces, raising his glass of brandy.

"THE Kim Bongjoo?!" Taehyung gapes.

The lawyer nods, nudging you with a smile.

"Kim Bongjoo is so famous, even his kids that are in kindergarten are held to a higher esteem than the President!" Leena gushes, leaning into the group.

"Guess my woman will make more money than me, hmm?" your boyfriend whispers conspiratorially to the others.

You roll your eyes with a snort, elbowing him.

"Why are you over here anyway?" Taehyung quips to the father of your child.

"Because I'm all by myself with the leech, all of my friends have left me." he whines.

"That's because we'd rather spend time with the baby. No one wants to hear your… whatever she is, bitch and whine all goddamn night." Leena retorts, earnings nods from everyone in your group.

Yoongi sighs loudly. "Fine. But you guys fucking suck."

But then finally, as if the Lord was tired of keeping up the charade, you all finally hear the words that will get you out of here quicker.

"Everyone, the auction is about to begin! Please have a seat!"

Somehow, in some way, Yoongi sat down right beside you. It's comforting to feel his knee pressing into yours even if it's just the slightest touch.

The only annoying thing is that Sera is sitting beside him.

"Whatever you want, little dove, just bid on it and I'll transfer the money over to your account." Yoongi whispers softly.

His wife scoffs loudly, folding her arms. "I fucking hate the both of you." she seethes through her teeth.

"Fucking relax, mouse. Don't start a scene where there shouldn't be." Seokjin seethes from behind you all.

She huffs out softly, rolling her eyes.

You lay your head on Leena's shoulder, watching as the first item up for auction is revealed.

"This first item for auction comes from Go Artemis. It's from her latest collection of furniture from 2021. This piece of furniture is a black and grey chaise lounge with pure diamond and cerulean beryl studs that compliment whatever room you would choose to place it. We'll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars."

The price practically makes you choke on your own spit but you try to hide your surprise. Yoongi chuckles beside you, tilting his head in your direction slightly.

"Money is nothing here, little dove." he whispers.

You stare at the chaise lounge and your boyfriend speaks your thoughts for you.

"Baby boy's room." he whispers and you hum in agreement. It does go with the aesthetic.

But you can't bring yourself to raise your hand, the thought of spending that much money makes you feel sick.

"Leena, do the honors." Yoongi whispers to your best friend.

"No! Wa-" you gasp as she raises your hand high up in the air.

"One hundred thousand. Going once… Going twice-"

You cringe in anticipation, elbowing Leena when you hear her giggle.

"Sold to paddle 73!"

You sigh loudly, pulling your arm away from hers. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, folding your arms.

"Naturally," she jeers, raising her champagne glass to you.

The constant ebb and flow of money being released in the room is a complete contrast to how you've lived your life. You've spent your life saving money and these people spend it on fancy dog collars and one day trips to vineyards in California like it's nothing.

Yoongi has even purchased some items that you don't deem necessary like the finest cigars and a trip to a secluded spa and hotel in Japan. When you shook your head gently at the price he'd just repeat the same thing.

"It's for charity."

While you can try to understand, it's pretty much going over your head.

"The next piece we have is from Kim Sera."

Sera's eyes widen and she sneers at Yoongi when he snorts into his whisky glass.

"What have you done?" she growls softly.

Her estranged husband shrugs and you sigh gently at their childish tit for tat.

"Having fun," he quips, leaning back in his chair.

"This is a one of a kind Alexander Shin piece made of pure diamonds. It was her first wedding present from her husband Min Yoongi. It was given to her two days before their wedding and it's said that Alexander found it so beautiful he almost couldn't sell Yoongi the necklace. We'll start the bidding at three million."

"My prized necklace?!" she hisses, shock written all over her face.

When paddles go up immediately, you cringe. Yoongi is being a brat.

"Yoongi." you mumble embarrassed and he shrugs in reply.

"I have four million. Going once. Going twice-"

"Six million." Seokjin announces from behind you and you turn around to him with weary eyes.

You can see Anna and Jimin chuckling amongst themselves and you hold back the great sigh that threatens to tear forth from your body.

How absolutely petty of your boyfriend.

"Sold to paddle 81!"

Jin looks over at you, sticking out his tongue with a wrinkled nose.

He too couldn't give a fuck about money.

"Finally the last piece of the evening belongs to an upcoming artist."

Your head whips around and you try everything you can to make yourself smaller. This feels like you're being called out in class to answer a question, you know nothing about.

"This art piece entitled Glass House," your cheeks heat up and you feel quite faint in this very second. There are a multitude of eyes on you from strangers that you don't yet feel comfortable with, "was created by Y/N. She is creating the art for the Gangnam Mall coming into creation soon. And she also has gorgeous pieces at the Luck Art Studio. Many say she's on the list to become one of the greatest expressive and artistic minds of this generation."

WHAT?!

This man cannot be serious. How could he say such high praise about you when he doesn't even know you?!

"Oh jeez," you murmur, cupping your stomach.

"We'll start the bidding at two million."

Oh, that price.

You're going to faint. You're about to pass out.

Holy shit.

"I have two million. Anyone for two and a half?"

Your breathing slows down and the voices in the room seem to echo in your ears. This is an out of body experience like you've never had before.

You paint for fun and now one of your pieces is going for millions!? It's absolutely insane!

"Five million. Do I hear five and a half?"

When you met Yoongi… you certainly didn't think this was going to happen! You didn't know anything would transpire and now look at you. Pregnant, cowering in a comfy armchair while people bid on a picture of a glass dome filled with roses. It's completely ridiculous!

"Jimin, buy me the painting!" you hear Anna whine.

Turning to her, you shake your head. "I can just make you one!" you whisper fiercely.

She giggles in turn, pointing to the painting on stage. "I want that one." she says with the flourish of her hand.

"I have nine million. Do I hear nine and a half?"

Sera scoffs and for once you agree. This is completely absurd. When Yoongi raises his paddle with a humorous expression, you elbow him without a care for others.

"It's for charity." he murmurs, chuckling above the lip of his glass.

"I hate you," you mumble, looking around at all the raised paddles.

"I have thirteen million. Do I hear fourteen?"

"Just put me out of my misery." you gasp, rubbing your stomach as your son kicks inside of you.

"Twenty million!" Anna calls loudly, shoving Jimin's hand high up in the air.

You groan long and low, putting your shaking hand to your forehead. She cannot be serious.

"Sold to paddle 95."

You give a small smile as people clap demurely turning their heads to look at you. When you meet eyes with Min Seyoung, she sends you a small wink.

"Good girl," she mouths, turning back around.

You want to run and hide quite soon after that but the amount of people that come up to you and congratulate you are too many. After the wild display of money, people make you out to be the next Van Gogh or something.

"Anna!" you gasp, bowing your head to all the people surrounding you when she grabs your arm and tugs you away from everyone.

"If you want her art, you can find it at Luck Art Studios!" she calls to them.

"I can't believe you just spent so much money on one painting. I could just make you one!" you gawk as she pulls you towards the entrance.

"I wanted it for the nursery. Besides, you make money when people flaunt theirs. This was my last hoorah before I give birth next week!" she giggles, waving over Jin.

He rushes over, shaking both hands happily at you. "You did it Princess! You're famous!"

Slapping him with your clutch, you narrow your eyes at him. "Shut up! You're embarrassing!" you bark out, looking around with shy eyes.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure today was just a whirlwind for you."

Anna waves at you, accepting her fur shawl from her doting husband.

The night chill is welcome as you wait on the steps for Seokjin's car to arrive from the valet.

A whirlwind is right but maybe you could equate more to whiplash than anything. You can understand just how this was supposed to set you up for success when the time comes for Yoongi to leave Sera but you didn't think it would be this explosive.

"Well, looks like you're coming up in the world."

The voice is not one you've heard before and you turn to it without a second thought.

The woman is simply gorgeous with a younger man clasped to her arm. Her dark blue gown with sapphire accessories stand out to you and she looks like the epitome of money.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Yes, of course. You don't know me, but I know you." she says, stepping down the marble stairs.

When she gets closer, her facial features resemble Yoongi's almost perfectly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her.

This is Yoongi's mother.

Oh no.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Min." you say softly.

Her eyes light up and she points her clutch bag at you with a wide smile. "So you are a smart little bird."

You'd hate for Yoongi to see her talking to you. You know how much he despises her.

"Well, I guess I'll welcome you into the family. It's not like I have much of a choice, what with my grandchild in your belly and your legs being spread for my son." she muses, accepting a long cigarette from the boy toy on her arm.

Jin goes stiff by your side, eyes widening at the pavement at her truly free mouth.

"What's the gender?" she inquires, pulling from the cigarette.

"A boy." you reply as kindly as you can.

"Good. Then you won't have to try again. Lord knows I was over the moon when Yoongi came out of my twat and I was finally free."

You shiver at how completely crude she is. No wonder Yoongi hates her. You hum gently, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Cars here." Seokjin says quickly, putting his hand to your back.

"It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Min," you say, bowing to her.

"Yes. And you… small bird." she mumbles amused, turning to her boytoy and patting his suit jacket.

You can't get to the car fast enough and when you climb in, you can feel your body shuddering with weeping intentions. Your hands shake as you put on your seatbelt.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is her problem?! Holy shit!" Seokjin breathes, putting on his seatbelt and backing up as quickly as he possibly can.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You're truly stunned in silence.

"No wonder Yoongi grew up the way he did! His mother is the fucking devil!" Jin gawks, driving towards home.

You were first to get home and it was such a relief to take off the heavy gown.

Now laying in your comfortable bed, you can't hold on to a thought long enough before you're on to the next.

The night feels like such a blur. You were introduced to so many new people, you mingled with some of the richest people in society. Your boyfriend spent more money than you would know what to do with. You met his absolutely despicable mother. You were mad at him for some reason or another in the beginning… It's all just so fleeting.

But the one thing that's probably stuck the most with you is how high of a pricing one of your paintings went for. It wasn't the most perfect painting, it wasn't your greatest piece, but it still went for twenty million dollars. All of the emotions from that moment still resonate deep within you.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you can do this. Maybe you can be worthy of Yoongi and his lifestyle. Maybe this fate is pure and as grand as you'd like to think.

"Where's my babies?"

The sound of his deep voice makes you smile and when he steps into your bedroom, all of your worries just melt away.

His body is highlighted by the great moon that hangs high in the sky.

His gummy smile breaks your heart to bits as he pulls his tie off with a quickness.

He strips down to his briefs in what seems like seconds and you can see the utter joy and excitement he feels to lay in bed with you.

"Look at the greatest expressive and artistic mind laying in our bed." he quips, pulling back the covers.

You giggle gently, giving him a second to get comfortable before laying on his side. He sighs gratefully, putting his chilly hand on your warm belly.

"God, this is amazing. To come home and lay in bed with you like this beats everything in the world." he breathes out, kissing the top of your head.

You hug him tightly, laying your head on his shoulder.

"My little dove."

His voice is filled with warmth and love. And now you know that no matter how things start to shape and form, the end of the road always ends with your boyfriend.

"Missed me, kiddo? Daddy missed you and mommy a lot." Yoongi mumbles sleepily, burying his face in your hair.

The comfortable smirk that sets onto your lips is welcome and you're thinking of your family as you drift off to sleep.

Next Chapter ------>

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[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

[4stars-uswnt]

If I Hated You [Alex Morgan x Reader]

requested by anon: Hey I love your works!! I was wondering if you could do a fic based on fletcher’s new song ‘if I hated you’ with Alex x reader, if possible with an eventual happy ending? If not I totally understand but thank you so much for all the fics you’ve shared and done for us.

requested by @eclipses77​: Hey I was wondering if you could write a fix based off Fletcher’s new song ‘If I Hated You’ with any person you want but with a happy ending if possible.

A/N: thank you to both of you who requested this! and to the anon: i’m so glad you enjoy my fics. i have a great time writing them for you guys. 

this isn’t really a song fic with lyrics and everything. it’s mainly just inspired Fletcher’s song, so i hope y’all still enjoy it anyways :) also i may have gotten a little carried away with it.

ps. thanks to @sauceysonny​ for talking through this prompt with me and letting me rant through my ideas

warnings: swearing

Listen to “If I Hated You” by Fletcher here

You throw the sheets off your body for what feels like the hundredth time that night. You had been tossing and turning, unable to sleep with the other side of the bed being so empty. You reach for your phone to check the time. 2:13 am. The photo on the lock screen makes your heartache. It was a photo of you and Alex that Kelley had captured in the locker room after the World Cup, your foreheads pressed together, oblivious to the rest of the world. Shutting your phone off, you turn over and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you’d gotten here.

—————

“I can’t wait to see you this weekend.” You chirp, smiling at your girlfriend through your computer screen. There had been a week break in the NWSL season, so Alex had decided to visit you up in Seattle for a couple of days.

Alex gives you a sheepish look. Being able to read your girlfriend like a book, you feel yourself deflate with defeat.

“You’re not coming, are you?”

“Babe, I’m sorry. I have to go to LA for some meetings with the Olympics committee and with Angel City. I am so sorry.” Alex apologizes.

Her apologies felt useless at this point, as your girlfriend was always cancelling on you, putting you second. You look down at your hands, ignoring Alex’s gaze.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I’ve been really busy lately.” She tries again, hoping to get a response out of you.

“You’re always busy, Al.” You mumble.

“I know, babe, and I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.” Alex defends.

You roll your eyes, annoyed at your girlfriend’s excuses. “Yes, Alex, there is something you can do about it. You can tell them that you already have plans. Or that you have to go visit your girlfriend, who you haven't seen in almost two months. Or that they can fucking wait because Angel City isn’t happening for another year and the Olympics aren’t for another eight fucking years.”

Alex sits on the other side of the screen stunned by your outburst. In your arguments, you were usually the calmer one, Alex being the one with the temper, but you just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You sigh, tired of fighting with the other woman. “Al, maybe we should just take a break.”

“What?” Alex sits up at that, leaning closer to the screen.

“Look, I know we love each other and everything, but recently it just feels like our relationship is strained by the distance and all of our commitments.”

“You mean my commitments.” Alex countered.

“I didn’t say that, Alex. Stop putting words in my mouth. We are both to blame here. I just feel like we need some time to ourselves to figure out what we want from this relationship.”

Your heart aches, as the words leave your mouth, and as you see tears form in Alex’s eyes.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t wanna take a break.” She whispered.

“Al, I don’t wanna take a break either, but all we’ve been doing lately is arguing, and I just think we should take a little time to evaluate our own lives.” You feel tears pooling in your eyes.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, love.” Alex nods, wiping her face.

“I think it’s what we need.” You swallow the knot in your throat. “This isn’t the end, Al.”

“It better not be.” She lets out a watery chuckle, and you fondly smile.

“See you later, Ali-gator.”

Alex smiled at your nickname for her. The two of you vowed you would never actually say ‘goodbye’ to each other because you always knew you’d see each other again.

“See you in a while, crocodile.��

—————

That conversation was almost two weeks ago, and since then, you had been an absolute mess. Although you were used to being alone in Seattle, being on a break from your relationship made you feel even more lonely. In the past couple of weeks, you had barely left your apartment, only going out for training, games, and the necessary grocery shopping.

Your phone had been blowing up with text messages from your national team teammates, who were all concerned about you after hearing the news. Not bothering to give any of them any details, you responded to the group chat with an ‘I’m fine, you guys. Please respect me and Alex’s privacy.’ Alex soon replied, adding ‘What (Y/N) said. We love you guys, but we need to work through this ourselves.’ Both of your texts received many hearts and likes, following with ‘We’re here’ and ‘Love you guys’ from the women, and the texts stopped after that.

In Orlando, Alex hadn’t been faring any better. After returning from LA, she spent most of her time moping around her house in sweatpants and a hoodie she’d stolen from you. Ali, Ash, and Syd would all stop by or invite her over to cheer her up, but Alex was heartbroken without you.

—————

The next morning, after having gone to bed at around 3 am, you slip on a pair of shorts and one of Alex’s Cal hoodies and drag yourself to training.

As you walk into the locker room, Allie and Megan exchange a look of concern, noticing the bags under your eyes and your hood pulled over your head. Your two national team teammates had been worried about you for the past couple of months, even more so in the recent weeks when you and Alex had decided to take a break. They knew the distance was causing you stress, and now the separation was causing you heartbreak. But every time either woman tried to approach the subject, you shut them out, insisting you were okay, when you clearly were not.

Towards the end of practice, after another one of your passes goes awry, Farid calls you over.

“(Y/N), you doing okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. He had heard the whispers in the locker room, your teammates voicing their concerns, and he could tell something was bothering you, so much so it was disrupting your play.

“Yes, coach.”

Not wanting to push you, he hums. “Okay, then you better start playing like you’re doing okay.”

You nod, embarrassed by your own unprofessionalism. “Of course, coach, sorry.”    

He blows the whistle, ending practice, and you scurry back to the locker room.

Back in the locker room, as you’re taking off your cleats and packing up your bag, Allie slips into the seat next to you.

“(Y/N), you wanna come over later?” Allie places a hand on your knee. “We’re having a barbecue. Megan and Sue will also be there.”

You snort. “And be a fifth wheel? I’m good, Allie, but thanks for the invite.”

“(Y/N),” she starts again, “even though I’m Alex’s best friend doesn’t mean I don’t care about you either. Megan and I, and the whole team really, are here if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Allie.” You smile, as you stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll stop by for a little bit.”

“Awesome.”

—————

Later than evening, you made your way over to Allie and Bati’s place, ultimately deciding that being a fifth wheel was better than sitting at your apartment alone with another box of takeout.

You enter through the side gate, heading into the backyard, where Bati is barbecuing and Megan, Allie, and Sue are chatting around the table. Hearing you open the gate, Bati looks up from the grill.

“Hey! Look who made it!” He gives you a big grin, opening his arm up for a side hug, which you accept.

“Hey, Jose. Thanks for having me.” You softly smile.

“Of course, (Y/N).”

“Aye! (Y/N)! Get your butt over here!” Megan calls from across the yard, waving you over.

“The queen is calling, so I must go.” You joke, making your way over to the table.

“(Y/N/N), I’m glad you could make it.” Allie gives you a brief hug. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water would be great.” You thank her, before turning to Megan and Sue.

“Long time no see, Birdie. Good game the other day. You played, eh, okay.” You smirk at the basketball player, who just rolls her eyes.

“It’s good to see you too, (Y/N/N). Thanks. A triple double is okay. But I dunno if I could say the same about you. I hear you’re not playing like the superstar you are.” Sue teases, resulting in a slap from Megan, who gives her girlfriend a warning glare.

You ignore the pink-haired woman and the ache in your chest. “Just having a couple of bad practices. I’ll be tearing up the field in no time.” You boast flippantly.

Seeing past your confident facade, Megan narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay, (Y/N)?”

“P, I’ve told you a million times. I’m fine.” You give her a tight smile, silently telling her you don’t want to talk about it.

Before Megan can ask you anymore questions, Allie and Bati approach the table with plates of food in their hands.

“Time to eat!” Allie cheers. “Oh, and, (Y/N), here’s your water.”

You mutter out a ‘thanks’, and take a large gulp, pushing down the knot forming in your throat.

—————

Dinner went smoothly the five of you discussing an array of topics, ranging from the upcoming NWSL and WNBA season to the election to the newest Italian restaurant that opened downtown.

By the time you all are finished eating, it’s dark out, leaving only the fairy lights to illuminate the yard. You go to clear your plate, but before you can stand up, Bati grabs it from you.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N/N). I got this.” He motions for you to sit back down, before reaching to collect the rest of the plates. “Why don’t I clean up and leave you ladies to chat?” Bati quickly pecks Allie’s cheek, before heading back inside.

Once it is just the four of you, Megan turns to you.

“(Y/N), seriously, how are you feeling?”

You internally groan. You should’ve known this was gonna turn into an intervention. Before you go to respond, the older forward continues.

“And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine. I’m good’ bullshit.” She raises her eyebrow, daring you to challenge her. “Because obviously you’re not fine, and you’re not good. For the past two weeks all you’ve been doing is moping around your apartment, wearing nothing but sweats. You’ve barely eaten an actual meal until today, nor gotten a good night’s sleep. And to top it all of you’ve been playing like crap!”

Sue hits Megan’s arm and scolds her. “Megan!”

The pink-haired woman faces to her girlfriend. “No! I’m not going to sugar coat it. (Y/N) needs to hear this, and she needs to talk about.” Megan turns back to you and softens. “(Y/N/N), you can’t keep bottling up all your feelings. We care about you, and we’re here to listen, so please talk to us.”

Both Allie and Sue nod along with Pinoe’s words.

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, before starting, “I’m a mess. Like before, I was annoyed and angry that Al was making me a second priority, but now I’m just sad and heartbroken that she’s not here with me.” You finally confess to the other women, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest. “And, I mean, I didn’t want to take a break, but our relationship just felt strained. Like we weren’t communicating, and I think the distance was getting the best of us, especially with all of our commitments. I don’t know. Do you guys think I made the right decision?”

Not knowing what to say, the three woman look at each other, searching for answers. Finally, Sue speaks up.

“(Y/N), none of us can know if you made the right decision.” She reaches to squeeze your hand. “Only you and Alex can know what’s right for yourselves and your relationship.”

You nod in understanding. “I love her so much, and I wish we could just be together because all I want is to be by her side.” You whisper, your eyes getting misty. “Ugh, I just miss her so much.”

“I miss you, too.”

You whip your head around. There, in all her glory, stood Alex Morgan. She doesn’t look any better than you, your Reign sweatshirt hiding her muscular frame and dark circles forming under her eyes. Your lips part, as you’re completely speechless.

“You’re car wasn’t in your lot, so I assumed you were either here or at Pinoe’s. This was my first stop, and here you are.” Alex shifts uncomfortably in the silence, her usual confidence faded.

You turn back to face Allie, Megan, and Sue, your eyes narrowing. “Did you three know about this?”

“No!” They all exclaim, Megan holding up her hands in innocence. You continue to stare at Allie, not convinced she had no part in this.

“I swear, (Y/N), I had no idea about this.” She insists, as you relent your accusatory glare.

“(Y/N),” Alex comes up from behind you, “they had nothing to do with this, so please don’t be mad at them. I came here all on my own because I wanted to talk to you. I needed to see you.”

You nod. “Ok.”

“So, can we talk?” She sheepishly asks. “Alone, if that’s okay with you?” She adds, pleading her friends to leave you two to talk.

The three women take the cue and head back inside, leaving you alone with Alex, who sits in Pinoe’s seat across from you.

You sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing where to start.

You decide to break the silence. “How’ve you been?”

She looks up from her fidgeting hands. “Uhh. Good. I’ve been good.”

You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “Al, c’mon, I know you like the back of my hand. How have you actually been?”

Alex sighs. “To be honest, I’ve been miserable.” She looks up, locking eyes with you. “I missed you, and I just wanted be with you, or even just hear your voice.”

You nod, knowing the feeling. “I missed you too, Al.”

“But you were right.” She confesses, as you tilt your head, confused. “We, or at least I, needed this break. It helped me realize what was important in my life, and that’s you, (Y/N). I can live without all those brand deals and sponsors, hell, I can even live without soccer, because none of that means anything if I can’t share it with you.”

By that point, both you openly had tears streaming down your faces.

“So, I promise to be better and to be more committed to our relationship. And I’m sorry that I ever put you as a second priority because you’re not. You’re my number one.” Alex concludes, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You let out a small chuckle at her cheesiness. “Thank you for your apology.” You take her hand. “And I’m sorry that didn’t make enough of an effort either.” Before Alex can protest, you squeeze her hand. “Al, a relationship is between two people. This wasn’t just your fault, okay? We both played a part.” You assure, quelling her guilt.

“So can we end this break and be back together?” Alex whispers hesitantly.

Beaming, you pull her in for a searing kiss, your first in almost three months. Her soft lips melt against yours, and you could taste the sweetness of her vanilla chapstick mixed with the saltiness of her tears. Before you could deepen the kiss, you hear Allie call from inside.

“No sex in my yard please!”

You rest your head on Alex’s shoulder, as the two of you laugh at your friend’s antics. Your girlfriend caresses your cheek, guiding you to lock eyes with her pleading blue orbs.

“Do you forgive me?”  

You nod. “Yes, Al, I forgive you.”

“Good. I thought you hated me.” She mumbles.

“I could never hate you, even if I tried.”

Alex smiles, leaning in for another kiss, before you hold up your hand.

“But, Al, your words are nice and all, but I have to see it. You have to prove to me that you’re committed to this relationship, especially if it’s long distance. And I will work to do the same. Okay?”

“Of course, (Y/N/N).” She nods her head eagerly. “So, I’m guessing it’s okay if I stayed here with you in Seattle for the next week?”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“They had to cancel training and matches for the next week because of some flooding issues at the facilities. So I’m all yours until next Sunday. That is, if you’ll have me.”

You jump off your seat and into Alex’s lap, pulling her in for another kiss. “Who am I to refuse such a pretty lady?” You tease, giving her nose a kiss.

“Alex and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…!” Allie sings, as her, Megan, and Sue approach the two of you.

“I take it you two made up?” Megan gestures to your position in Alex’s lap.

“Yes, we made up.” You grin, as your girlfriend kiss the top of your head.

“Good. I’m glad.” She returns a smile, and you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her.

“Me too.” Alex beams, turning to look at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bring her in for a sweet chaste kiss.

“Hey! What did I say about no sex in my yard!” Allie playfully scolds.

“It’s not my fault (Y/N) can’t keep her hands off me.” Alex smirks.

You gasp, jumping out of your girlfriend’s laugh. “Hey!”

“I’m only kidding, babe.” She rolls her eyes, pulling you back into her lap.

You cross your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

Alex chuckles, as she buries her face in your neck, giving you a kiss. “No you don’t.”

You smile, turning to the woman you love, and give her a quick peck. “You’re right. I don’t.”

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟔)

pt. 15

note: missed u baddies~~~!!! this chapter was so hard to write but i love how it turned out, hope y’all loved it tooooo ♡ 

playlist *new additions!*

word count: 7.6k

warnings: age gap, smut 

Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone on the end table beside you. It was positively buzzing with notifications, and you were a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of them. You furrowed your eyebrows as you skimmed through the notifications from the bottom to the top— you had a bunch of missed calls from your parents, more Snapchat notifications on your regular snap than ever, and a plethora of texts. 

You wondered if something had happened, chewing slightly on your bottom lip. Was everything okay at home? Did you post something meant for your cam site on your Instagram? A hundred various circumstances fled through your mind, but none of the situations you had made up could’ve prepared you for when you opened a text from Aaliyah with a picture attached. It read:

    - Attachment: 1 image

    - BITCH, THIS IS LITERALLY YOU!!!

     You sat up immediately, your stomach twisting nauseatingly as you looked at the image on your phone screen. You blinked a few times, rubbing furiously at your eyes like this was all a bad dream and you’d wake up in a few seconds. Because this couldn’t be happening. There was no way that you were looking at a picture of you and Steve that neither of you had taken, walking out of a restaurant you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of right now. A sense of urgency flooding your veins, you nudged Steve harshly. He shifted in his sleep and put his arms around your waist, unaware of what was going on. 

     “Steve!” you hissed, your face burning. 

     He woke up relatively quickly, hearing the seriousness in your tone, sitting up against the pillow and facing you, his brows knitted together, muscles flexing as he supported himself on his arms. 

     “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, leaning forward to see what you were showing him on your phone. 

You watched his expression change from one of confusion to one of concern as he began to grasp what had happened. But, instead of talking it out with you as you expected, he cursed under his breath and ripped the bed sheets off of him, getting up out of bed. You leaned forward, your naked bottom half getting exposed to the air while he pulled on some clothes and made his way out the door. 

     “Where’re you going?” you called out after him, and he didn’t even bother to take a look back at you as he marched out of the apartment, muttering,

     “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You tried to catch up to him, but it was too late. He was gone, and now you were alone in this apartment which felt eerily empty without him now, your phone pinging with a new notification every few seconds. 

| | | 

     As expected, the headquarters were abuzz when Steve entered them. He had arrived in a haste, driving stoically on the busy New York streets, his mind racing just like the cars that zoomed past him. The first person to face him once he got inside was Bucky, who just gave Steve a sympathetic look and held the door open for him— Bucky already knew everything, he had figured it out a few weeks ago on his own. You and Steve had already dealt with that hiccup, and you had hoped (perhaps naively) that the situation with Bucky was just a fluke, and that nothing more like that would happen again. But you had been sorely mistaken. 

     Steve gave Bucky a nod, and they both made their way to the meeting room, where Steve already knew everyone would be waiting for him. Quite immaturely, he rolled his eyes at the fact that everyone was there. This matter was something personal, it had nothing to do with the rest of the Avengers, though technically it did, because Steve’s actions affected the rest of the team and  he knew that. But to his own credit, he had just woken up and he was already being bombarded with messages from PR and the rest of the team about this mishap. He had to compose himself before walking in, taking a deep breath and relaxing his clenched jaw. 

     “Are you insane?” was the first thing Steve heard when he walked in, no doubt coming from Tony.

Steve sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets, glaring at Tony,

     “Save the berating for later.”

     “Were you not thinking? Is this what you were doing during your time off?” Tony continued, his hands up in the air in a questioning motion.

     “Listen, Tony. I’m not here to hear what I did wrong. I’m here to solve this issue right now, whatever that means.”

     “You’re gonna wanna see this,” Sam said reluctantly, sliding a magazine across the table for Steve to see. 

     It was one of those ridiculous celebrity gossip magazines, and multiple pictures of Steve and you were highlighted on the front page. Steve prepared for the worst as he read the headlines: “Captain America with Mystery Girl?” and “Who is Captain America’s New Boo?” He opened the magazine to more unsavory headlines, and to his extreme dismay, pictures of you from your personal Instagram highlighted. 

     He raised his eyebrows as he read: “More on Captain America’s New Girl.” They had found your name, your age, and worst of all, your profession. Steve was seeing red as he forced himself to keep reading the salacious article which made you out to be a deviant with ulterior motives, abusing inaccurate phrases like, “an unemployed college girl turned porn star” and, “the face of Captain America’s midlife crisis!” 

Steve’s face burned white hot as he scanned the article, barely even registering the content and instead finding himself growing more and more angered by the inflammatory statements that were being made. 

     “That’s enough,” Nat finally spoke up, watching the expressions on Steve’s face grow more and more catastrophic.

She snatched the magazine away from Steve and shoved it across the table, folding her arms and glaring down the table at Tony. 

     “You okay?” Bucky asked, reaching a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He could feel Tony’s angry glare focused on him, while everyone else gazed at him pitifully. 

Steve sighed, jerking his shoulder away from Bucky’s touch. He couldn’t even pinpoint his emotions, all he was feeling right now was rage. He was angry at himself, feeling like he somehow let this happen, even though deep down he could hear your voice telling him that he was doing everything right and that it wasn’t his fault. He was angry that now, your privacy and safety were on the line, and people who didn’t know a thing about you were making absurd assumptions about you. 

     He felt like yelling, punching something, doing anything to let out this anger so he could at least have some sort of vessel for this fury he was feeling. But he stood painstakingly still, trying to hear your voice over all the noise, your voice telling him everything was okay even though right now all signs were saying that everything was not okay. 

     “You have to deny everything,” Tony sighed after moments of awkward silence. “She’s your assistant and you were undercover acting as boyfriend and girlfriend, something convincing but not as exposing as that. And you’re getting your legal team to sue all these publications for false claims and defamation.”

Steve furrowed his brows, staring at Tony,

     “They aren’t false claims.”

Tony shrugged flippantly,

      “If you want everyone to think Captain America is sleeping with a porn star, then so be it. But it’s going to cost you if you think for a second I’m gonna let that slide on our team-”

Steve cut him off, losing the calming hum of your voice in his mind in a new wave of anger, 

     “She’s not a porn star, she’s a college graduate and the owner of an online brand and a sex worker, and that’s more than a lot of people her age can say, so don’t get brave because of these god damn articles, Stark.”

     “Listen, Cap,” Tony spat sarcastically. “I don’t give a shit who she is. The point is that in this case, your opinion on her doesn’t matter because everyone else is going to say whatever the fuck they want to say. And that’s bad for you, it’s bad for us, and it’s bad for her, if you care as much as you claim to.”

     “Don’t act like I didn’t think about this,” Steve lurched forward, slamming his hands on the table. “She’s more than just some girl to me. Don’t act like every waking second I didn’t worry that something like this would happen. Like, like I didn’t take every precaution I could, look over my shoulder every five seconds. I’m not as stupid as you want me to be, Stark.”

Of course Steve cared about his team and how this would affect the Avengers, but the last straw was the media coming for you, putting your privacy and your safety at stake. Your job and the details of your job were extremely sensitive, and you were just beginning to make a name for yourself in the real world. Steve honestly felt like this was worse for you than it was for him. He knew he had to take care of this first, for logistical reasons, but when he was done, he’d get right to you as soon as possible.

     Tony sighed, softening just a bit.

     “Listen. You know what you have to do. After the Accords, this… this isn’t the kind of attention that we need. Regardless of that, we can’t have this. You’re making a statement today, and you know what you have to say. PR’s already contacting the publishers of these bullshit articles. As for your little girlfriend, if we’re not careful, she could be in huge danger. You know the kind of people we deal with, and how fast they would swing at a chance to grab her when they think she’s unprotected. That’s exactly why you need to deny everything, and we’ll do all the damage control possible. Not that there’s even much we can fix at this point.”

      Steve glared all around the table, only to see faces of the rest of the members of the team looking up at him expectantly. He needed to explain himself. How’d he even get into this mess, what was he thinking, the usual. And Steve knew that that was his responsibility— as Captain America. As the leader. As a part of the team. Right now, he was just himself. Steve Rogers. And all that Steve Rogers was worried about was you. Regardless of what you said, the fact that you could be in danger scared the shit out of him, and also put him into this almost primitive, dominant mode. He needed to protect you. He didn’t care about reactions and rumors, he needed to make sure you were safe.

     “Talk later,” was all Steve said, turning out of the room and ignoring Tony calling his name. When he got into the car he slammed the door shut and began the drive home. 

      His mind was swarming with thoughts, about what this meant for his team, for his job, all the things he’d left unaddressed in the meeting room. He knew this wasn’t his fault, he knew that’s what you would say, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself off this easily. He was livid about the fact that the magazines and web articles had found you out so quickly and had posted pictures of you, giving away personal information about you and jeopardizing you as if you deserved it at all. So he drove home in a silent, fuming rage.

      By the time Steve came home, you, too were beside yourself with anger. You’d seen the posts your friends and family were sending you, and your social media was getting flooded with spam and comments from people who didn’t know the first thing about you. Some were downright cruel, others were oddly interested in this situation that was meant to be private all along. You hadn’t even called your parents yet or explained yourself to anyone, all you did was text them and tell them you’d get back to them later when you figured this all out. The only person you wanted to talk to at this point was Steve, and he wasn’t even there, nor was he answering his phone and you knew he had it on him. 

     The fact that he had seen the news and just left immediately, not giving you any sort of comfort or advice, not even beginning to work through this together, had you fuming. You knew that just like you, Steve had people to explain himself to and others to reach out to. But as far as you were concerned, you should’ve been the first person he talked to about this— he should’ve worked with you to at least talk about how to fix this before he just marched out the way he did. 

      You thought you had both worked past his eternal faithfulness to his job and the pressure to be dominant that he felt all the time, felt you had reached the core of the superhuman. But him leaving as promptly as he did only proved you wrong. You didn’t want to go through this alone, you wanted to go through this with him, as it was about the both of you in the first place.

     He came in and you looked up from your phone, where you were scrolling worriedly through the trending Twitter hashtag about you and Steve. Everyone was giving their unwarranted opinions, and you honestly worried how this would impact you— tons of information about you had been revealed without your consent, and it did not at all make you look good to the typical eye. 

     “Where did you go?” you asked him quietly, glaring up at him. 

He seemed to sense your anger and sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned manner,

     “Headquarters. Had to sort some things out.”

     “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here scrolling through pictures of me that are from my fucking cam site? Strangers exchanging information about me on the internet, seeing all this shit about us? And you just— just left? You didn’t even try to talk to me, Steve, honestly, what the fuck?” you snapped, your upper lip curling up angrily.

     Steve glided over to you, sitting beside you on the side of the bed and trying to get close to you. He truly felt sorrowful for leaving you alone, he wished you had known how much he wanted to talk to you while he was being berated by Tony. He only wished you had known how little he cared about the logistics because you were on his mind the whole time. 

     But he knew you were right, he had left without even trying to sort things out with you, left you to handle things on your own without even giving you an inch of support or telling you where he was going and what he planned for when he got back. 

     “You’re right, I’m sorry,” Steve apologized, his tone genuine, trying to catch your eye. He finally did, and even though you still glared angrily at him, he grinned at the fact that you were at least looking at him. “I should’ve been here for you, and dealt with all the other logistics later. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, honestly, angel. I didn’t… I didn’t know-”

He didn’t know that your image was being plastered around everywhere, that you were being unpacked by attention-seeking publications. Your safety and your privacy came before the reputation of his team, before all the logistics. That was all he had wanted to protect this entire time. You. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you could see that they were almost glassy, and you shifted from anger to concern quickly. 

     “Baby,” you cradled your arms around his head, frowning. “No, no, I’m… I’m being stupid, of course you have to handle shit with your job first, I should know that. I just wish we could’ve processed this emotionally first. Instead of separating from each other first thing.”

     “No,” Steve said firmly, pulling away from your touch and placing strong, grounding hands on your shoulders. “No, you are completely valid, and you’re right to be angry with me, doll. I should’ve taken a moment. That’s- that’s what we’ve been working on this entire time and you’ve been trying to teach me to step outside of my anxieties and all my duties. And I should’ve been here for you. I didn’t even take the time to comfort you. I’m sorry.”

      “Thank you,” you smiled softly, and he pulled you in for a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

     This was the warmest you’d ever felt with him, just sitting there with him calmly in the midst of all the chaos, finding peace and stillness in each other’s arms. Anywhere else but in each other’s arms felt dangerous and uncertain, and now that you were here together, you were starting to look up. Everything was still shitty, but maybe together, things would feel less shitty. 

     “Listen, you’ll be okay. I’m sorry for all of this, I know what you’re going to say, but I know that I’m partially responsible. I just wanted to keep you safe, and, fuck.”

You chuckled quietly to yourself, your faces only inches apart when you brought your hands up to cup and graze Steve’s cheeks lovingly,

      “You still blame yourself for everything. You can’t control what these fucking publications do. You know that. And selfishly, the risk of getting caught is worth taking, if it means I get to be with you.”

Steve melted into your touch, but still there was that stiff part of him that wanted to blame himself for this mess,

     “We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, doll,” he laughed wistfully. “But, you didn’t teach me for naught. Instead of pitying ourselves, we’re gonna work on this, right?”

You nodded with a smile, 

     “Yes, yes, exactly.”

Steve sighed before continuing, frowning as he remembered the hostile air in the office.

     “They told me to deny everything and get my legal team involved, but I…” Steve paused, feeling his anger and defiance resurge. 

     If they were going to expose you two, then so be it, it was true. If he didn’t tell the truth, if he denied all the “allegations,” he was just letting them win. He was letting them silence him, letting him think he was doing something wrong because he had found you, his happiness. And sure, your relationship was easy to publicize and critique because it was controversial for many obvious reasons— the age difference, the sensitive nature of your jobs. 

     But Steve didn’t care what they had to say. All he cared was that this didn’t push you apart. And if it meant telling the truth, he’d do that. The bombardment of rumors and questions would pass eventually. Nothing could soil the Avengers for long. If he handled this the way the public expected him to handle it— with some spineless apology or some weak minded statement, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Not when you and Steve were together. 

He continued,

     “I’m not going to. I’m not denying a thing. I’ll release a statement on my own… I’ll… I’ll tell the truth. I’ll get them to leave you alone and take down whatever they’ve posted about you. I don’t care what they have to say about us. Just… they can’t mess with you.”

     Steve’s fists balled up inadvertently in frustration and anger, but he was also feeling a surge of pride, courage. He didn’t have to deal with this the way everyone wanted him to. This was a personal matter, and even though it affected his job and his team, Steve had been through too much in the past few weeks to let the public play him the way they wanted to. There would be drama, and talk, but it would all subside as it always did. He’d always be Captain, and as long as he had a good heart and good intentions, and did his job right, he didn’t give a shit about what strangers had to say about who he was in love with. 

You blinked, shocked and puzzled by Steve’s words. This was like a full 180, you weren’t used to Steve rebelling like this. You figured maybe he was just worked up, and you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble. You knew he had his responsibilities, regardless of how you felt. You didn’t expect him to put you above everything, you knew he had to deal with matters like this in a specific way. You tried to calm him down,

     “Steve, you’re sweet. But you should go through with what your team wants. I mean, it’s what’s best, isn’t it?”

Steve cocked his head at you,

     “And keep doing this in secret? I mean, we can’t keep this up for long, doll, you know that. If I deny it now and the truth somehow comes out, that’d be even worse. I know my team is saying the opposite, but I think this is what’s best. The rumors, the gossip… it’ll come to a stop. What we have is stronger than that.”

You grinned, your eyes glossy,

     “I know, but I don’t wanna be the reason you get in trouble.”

Steve inched closer to you and cupped your face firmly with his hands, looking into your eyes,

     “You’re not. And you won’t be. Don’t blame yourself for a second. I’m taking care of this, alright? You’ve done so much for me and you don’t even know it. It would be a disservice to the both of us if I didn’t stand up for us. Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my job. I was wrong to ever make you feel like that was your responsibility more than it was my own. We’ll be alright.”

     Steve was true to his word. As the day progressed and word spread even more, soon enough there was a statement to match the rumors. It wasn’t what the publicists or his fellow Avengers wanted to hear, but it was what he thought was right. And there was no reversing it. Later that day you sat on your laptop, scrolling through the recently updated articles on your situation. 

     Superhero Captain America, known to those in his personal life as Steve Rogers, admits that he has been in a private relationship for the past few months. Rogers and his team ask that their privacy be maintained and respected despite the shocking, unexpected news. At the time, Rogers and his fellow Avengers will not be taking any further inquiries about the matter, and they are taking this violation of privacy and security very seriously. 

     You breathed out a sigh of relief as you read the statement, mulling it over a few times in your head. All Steve wanted was to keep you safe and get as much information that had been revealed about you taken down. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do from here on out— your sensitive profession had been exposed and this was something that would quite likely impact you for the rest of your life. 

     How could you be expected to be taken seriously to get a career when you had been trashed and defamed on the internet for your job? It seemed that still, no one quite understood sex work and that it was just as legitimate a profession as anything else, and you knew from the start that sex workers were looked down upon. You had done everything right— you used an alias, you didn’t give away personal information. And now, your face was plastered on gossip websites, with links to the very cam site you used. 

     Needless to say, you were stressed. But, you weren’t panicking. You were processing everything and it was all so overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t being nitpicky about the specifics. You had faith that you would figure this all out, that everything would be back to normal soon. Whatever that meant for your future, you weren’t sure. But you refused to lose hope. Not yet. You’d pick yourself back up from the ground and dust yourself off, just like you’d done so many times before. The difference was that Steve would be there for you every step of the way.

     Steve was out again handling important business. He’d talked to you before leaving and you understood that he’d have to be gone for a few hours trying to juggle this insane situation. In the meantime, you decided that since you had time, you’d call back everyone who had been bombarding you with messages and calls. Firstly, you’d call your parents. You dialed your dad’s number and he picked up almost immediately. 

You could hear him calling your mother’s name so she could talk to you too, and you heard her scramble up to the phone to talk. 

      “YN, what the hell is going on?” your mother asked, but she sounded more concerned than upset. 

     “We’ve been calling all day, we’ve been worried sick. Everyone’s been asking about you and we had no clue what was going on,” your father continued. 

You were surprised at their tone. Perhaps ever since your awkward dinner with them where you’d revealed what was likely your biggest secret, there had been a shift. You were surprised when they were so quick to accept you despite being so distant from you your whole life, being the root of your emotional issues. You sighed, rubbing your forehead,

     “Look, I know it’s a lot.”

     “Are you okay, sweetie? Be honest,” your mother pleaded, and you made a face,

     “I’m fine, it’s been a stressful day, but-”

      “No, I mean in general. We… we know we haven’t been talking much, but this… this whole thing, it’s-- we’re worried about you. You just go off to New York without saying a thing to anyone? You’re in some secret relationship with a man twice your age?” 

You understood their concern, but at the same time, you knew you weren’t being irrational by doing these things. Instead, you were doing what made you happy. This wasn’t a spontaneous, crazy decision. You and Steve were both extremely logical people, and you weren’t unstable just because you did this without anyone knowing. You had your reasons. 

     “Look, I… this is something I did on my own. I’m an adult and I’m doing what's best for me. And, obviously, there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, he’s- he’s not just some random guy. And what we have is… you might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

     “I just wish you felt like you could talk to us.”

     “Yeah. Me too. Listen, I just wanted to call you to let you know that I’m fine. I don’t really know what’s next, but I’ll try to keep you updated, alright? Don’t worry about me, everything will be okay.”

      “What about all those posts about you? The things people are saying, it’s- and your safety! This is serious.”

     “Dad, I know. We are working it out, believe me. I’m just as worried as you are. I’m probably more worried. But you know what, I knew the risk in coming here, and I knew what I was doing. And I’m still glad I did it. Steve means so much to me, and I’m not gonna let this change that. But all that matters is that I’m okay. I just wanted to call you and tell you that.”

      “Well, we’re glad to hear that you’re okay. There’s just so much about you that we’re just now finding out, we have every reason to be worried.”

     “Yes, you do, and you’re right. If things were different… well. Anyways. I love you both, I’ll call you later,” you said, hanging up without waiting for them to reply.

At least that was off your plate. 

| | |

     The next morning, you woke up with Steve by your side, holding you in his arms. Needless to say, yesterday had been incredibly eventful, and by the time Steve got back home, there was nothing left to do except sleep the day off. It seemed as if your troubles were far in the past, considering how quickly everything had been handled. You had to hand it to Steve, he was the one who had to talk to so many people yesterday- legal teams, PR, his team members, just to clear the air. And of course, people were still talking about everything. But the initial shock and widespread reaction from yesterday was already beginning to calm down. It was still a bit dark in the bedroom, and Steve was still asleep, his arms wrapped around you.

     You stretched to reach your phone on the side table and started scrolling. There were still articles up and pictures of you up, but Steve was working to wipe those out to protect your privacy. You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly. Even after this was all over, you’d have to figure out what the hell you were going to do. Would you have to stop camming? Would you have to throw away all hopes of any other career as well? This was all on your mind.

     Suddenly, Steve’s hand was wrapped around your phone, pulling it out of your grasp. He sighed sleepily, his voice still groggy and deep, 

     “What’d I tell you about that?”

     “I know…” you pouted, turning to face him. His eyes were closed, but you knew he was listening. “Shouldn’t keep looking for updates.”

     “Mm,” Steve hummed. “You’ll be alright, YN. I’ll make sure of that.”

     “Promise?” you asked.

     “I promise.”

That was all the reassurance you needed for now.

     Eventually, you both woke up and got ready for the day. You weren’t doing much of anything, since you’d have to stay low for a few days. But it meant you got to be in each other’s company all day, so you weren’t exactly complaining. You were laying in between Steve’s legs on the couch, your head resting on his chest. 

     Today was supposed to be your last day, but due to recent events, there had been a change in plans. You would probably stay here until this all settled, then go back to Cali and deal with business back home. Luckily for you, your friends were supportive all the way. They were astonished and shocked of course, but incredibly happy for you. They’d be there for you just as much as Steve would. 

     “You okay, doll?” Steve asked, and you glanced up at him.

     “Good as I can be. Are you okay?” you asked.

     “Better than yesterday,” Steve chuckled, his blue eyes glimmering. “My team is still working on taking down any private information about you, by the end of this week, we should be all good-”

     “Steve,” you flopped over, straddling his legs now. Instinctively, he reached up to caress your arm and your thigh. 

     “Hmm?” he hummed, looking up at you. 

     “What happens after this? I mean, as far as I’m concerned, any hopes of getting a serious job are kind of fucked now.”

     “That’s not true,” Steve furrowed his brows, frowning. He didn’t want you to feel like this incident would mess up your whole future.

     “Steve, I majored in environmental policy. That’s like, government job type shit. I have to be someone who’s reputable. And I don’t know many people who are looking to hire a porn star sugar baby. I mean, that’s what everyone’s been calling me.”

     “But you’re not that. And once we clear up all this, I promise you, no one will think that about you. you’ Besides, Stark Industries is always looking for people like that, you could work for-”

You put your finger to his lips, shaking your head with a small smile,

     “Ah ah ah. You know I like to do things myself.”

You didn’t want to just beat around the bush and take the easy way out of all this. You liked knowing that you were accomplishing what you were accomplishing all on your own. If you worked for Steve or his team, it would just feel like giving up.

     “I know, and I love that about you. But why make things so hard on yourself?”

You shrugged,

     “I don’t see it like that. I see it like… like making my own way. You know? I’d probably be set for life if I worked for Tony Stark. But… I don’t know, it’s just a thing I have. I like to get it myself.”

Steve sighed slowly, shaking his head with a sly smile. His girl, such a go-getter. That aspect of you was honestly a turn-on for him. You didn’t want anyone to be able to say they did something major for you, and even though there were flaws within that ideology, he had to give you credit where credit was due. You were a hard worker. You liked to do things on your own and know that you were where you were because of your own discipline and hard work. Not because your boyfriend had recommended you.

     “You are something else,” Steve shook his head.

     “Mm hmm,” you grinned knowingly, stretching your hands along his chest. 

     “Listen, I can’t predict the future. But I will be there for you. And I know how much you like to hustle and do things on your own, but it’s good to accept help sometimes, doll. And I want to help you through this. Don’t think the worst of everything. You’ve always managed, even in the worst of times. This is no different. No job you apply for is going to try to judge you, I can guarantee you that. I’ll make sure of that, no matter how much you try to stop me.”

You scoffed, smirking,

      “You’re such a guy.”

      “I do it for you.”

Accepting help. Maybe Steve was right. Just because you accepted someone’s help didn’t mean you hadn’t done something on your own. And when it came to something like this, you needed all the help you could get, even if you didn’t want to admit that. It didn’t make you any less of an independent woman. 

| | |

      You woke up to thousands more follower requests the next day as you ate breakfast sitting at the kitchen counter. Steve was at the stove, finishing up his own plate, and you were chewing your eggs pensively as you scrolled through your Instagram. Ever since the day everything went down, you’d been getting a lot of attention. Most of it was honestly unwanted. Magazines you actually read were DMing you, asking to interview you, wanting the inside scoop on “the life of Captain America’s girlfriend.” You didn’t pay them any mind, because that was attention you didn’t want. You cringed to think of yourself being interviewed by a reporter about personal matters for fifteen minutes of fame. 

     But the attention wasn’t all bad, and now that you thought about it, maybe your future wouldn’t be so scary. Whether you liked it or not, you were almost like a celebrity now, and celebrities always had their scandals and their speculations, and they still got booked. Maybe this was meant to be, to steer your life in a different direction. 

     It didn’t seem ideal, and you didn’t even want fame. You certainly didn’t want to be known as “Steve Rogers’ girlfriend.” If you knew one thing, it was that you were going to make a name out of yourself before people tried to make one for you. Now that you were thinking about it, you could honestly seize this opportunity. 

     Even the sales for your clothing brand had hiked up since that day. People actually took an interest in what you had to offer, and you’d rather they take an interest in that than your personal life. You had no real interest in becoming some mystical figure or some it girl who was on Steve’s arm. You were just a regular, hardworking girl from California, and you wouldn’t lose sight of that. But if this was going to happen, you were going to take advantage of it. 

     “Steve,” you said his name, and he turned to face you, putting his plate together.

     “Yeah?”

     “Look at my Instagram,” you pointed your phone screen towards him and he squinted. “All these follower requests. And I keep getting orders, this is insane.”

Steve grinned, beaming. He was glad that something good was coming out of all this for you. He knew you didn’t want or like attention, but this went to show that all eyes on you wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He knew you knew how to flip it and turn it into something beneficial for you. You weren’t the kind of girl to bask in attention just because. You would make something out of this. 

     “I’m proud, YN, honestly. You know that’s all you, right?”

You chuckled, shaking your head,

      “Kinda crazy to wrap my head around. I don’t wanna be this sensationalized person or this public figure, but, fuck. This isn’t at all how I imagined my life going. I could make something out of this. It’s such a turn around, but maybe it was supposed to happen.”

     “I’m sorry about all this unwanted attention. But if I know you, you’ll make it work.”

It was interesting, this unwanted celebrity. You had to accept that people would start to know you. You could capitalize off this and highlight your brand, make people pay attention to that instead of your private life. You could even put your studies to work and create an environmental company. You wouldn’t just work for Stark Industries, you’d create an industry of your own. Of course, this was all in theory, and you had to gather yourself before you did those things. But the fact that this was possible just because of some unwanted attention reminded you that you could always flip a bad situation into something ten times better.

| | |

     “Fuck, Steve, I can’t,” you were panting heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead as you grasped onto his biceps. 

      Safe to say, since you were laying low and there wasn’t much to do, this was a very reliable option, every time. Now that the stress of the past few days was winding down, you were finally able to focus on what you had both been neglecting, which was each other’s bodies. Every time Steve was inside you, it was as good as the first time, if not better. You’d been going at it for hours now, partially because Steve didn’t have anything else to do and his endurance was ridiculous. You almost wanted to slap his pretty face for being able to go so long like this, drawing out your pain and your pleasure so effortlessly, only to kiss his cheek afterwards. 

     “Yes you can, doll, I know you can,” Steve said, not nearly as breathless as you were— it was safe to say sex with Steve was a workout. “Come for me just one more time.”

     “Mm,” you whined, lifting yourself up with the help of Steve’s hands clasped beneath your shaking thighs, feeling him shift inside you. You cursed, biting down on your lip and glancing down at where you two met with your brows wrung together. 

You were a mess. Both you and Steve had already came multiple times, but Steve wasn’t in a rush. He was honestly handcrafted by the devil. And since you were together, Steve had grown so much more confident. You switched in bed, sometimes you took the lead and sometimes Steve did, and sometimes it wasn’t about who was in the lead. But right now, Steve had you about to beg for mercy. 

     “Fuck, that looks so good, just watching me stretch you out like that,” Steve groaned, his eyes lowering to watch you slowly drop up and down on his cock, which was coated in your slick arousal. “You like this? Riding me for hours, coming over and over again on my cock?”

You shuddered with an almost humiliating moan, nodding your head because you weren’t able to speak. But Steve wasn’t letting you off that easy. He gripped your jaw with his hand, prying your mouth open.

      “Use your words,” he said, nodding slowly and mouthing ‘yes.’

      “Yes,” you stuttered out, feeling as Steve pulsed inside of you. You sounded ridiculous, pathetic, and you knew you looked absolutely filthy in the best way possible. You began to ramble. “Yes, yes, I love when you take me like this and— fuck— force me to come for you.”

     “Mmm,” Steve hummed like he was taking your words into consideration, mulling it over in his mind. “Yeah. You love this. You look so pretty like this.”

Pretty wasn’t the word you’d use to describe it. It was messy. You were practically drooling, and your body felt as exposed as it had ever been. Steve’s own cum from the previous times he came was pouring out of you each time you slid down onto him, and you were incredibly wet still. The sound your bodies made meeting was almost criminal. You were hot and sticky and sweaty and still somehow ridiculously gorgeous to Steve, and you looked even better when he was torturing you with pleasure. 

     You gasped raggedly when Steve had the audacity to bring his fingers down to your clit, those thick, unforgettable fingers that he used to stretch you out every time before you took his cock, rubbing harsh circles against your sensitive clit. Your whole body seemed to shudder, and Steve chuckled lowly, not even trying to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. Oh, you would so be getting him back for this. 

     “That feel good, doll?”

     “Fuck,” you whined, your hand flinging to his wrist to keep his fingers there doing the same motion. 

      Your body seemed to tighten and coil up, your eyes squeezing shut before you let go, and before you knew it, you were cumming on his cock. Or more like squirting, the way it seemed never ending and made your whole body convulse. Steve groaned as you soaked his torso and his legs, stilling yourself on his length and riding your orgasm out. He must have come inside you a few times while you were squirting. Wet tears, the good, hot kind, were forming down your cheeks as you come for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of a few slow, tantalizing hours. 

      “There you go, darling, I knew you could do it,” Steve finally pulled out of you, still hard against his stomach. He reached up and wiped the tears off your face. “Now do that again on my face.”

Fuck. You’d get him back another day.

| | |

      “Oh fuck, right there,” you sighed in ecstasy. 

     Steve’s hands were kneading into your back with expertise. He seemed to know just what he was doing, relieving all the tension from your spine and shoulders, and god knows you needed it. It had been about a week since the news came out, and everything seemed much less urgent now. 

     Reports about you two were dwindling, especially because you had stayed lowkey and didn’t flaunt your relationship about town. But it was almost freeing that you had the liberty to do so now, even if your relationship had been unfairly exposed. At least now, you could go out together without wondering if you’d get caught. 

     Steve chuckled and finished up, rolling off of you and facing you on the bed, his eyes glittering as he smiled at you. 

      “You know,” you started, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek. “I’m kinda glad this all happened. Is that selfish?” 

      “No,” Steve grinned, shaking his head and reveling in the touch of your hand on his cheek. He grasped your wrist, gazing into your eyes. 

      These past few months had been such a whirlwind for the both of you. The both of you were doing things that surprised you, that made you endlessly happy. Steve had never felt more grateful for anything or anyone in his life. You helped him grow, and he did the same for you. He couldn’t see his future without you, and he didn’t even want to imagine it. He knew you were irreplaceable, he knew this was meant to be. Your odd circumstances and the unconventional way you met seemed to emphasize that truth. There was a reason why he had been so blue without you, and there was a reason why he had come back. Deep down, he knew all along that it was worth it, that you were worth it. Nothing else had ever been so clear to him, especially in that moment, gazing into your deep, warm eyes. 

His heart blossomed with that irrevocable feeling, and before he could stop himself, the words were bubbling out of his mouth, 

      “I love you.”

You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to second guess yourself before you replied. You knew it all along, it was just a matter of time before one of you actually said it. And now, after you’d been through so much together, after you’d taught each other so much, and healed from so much as a collective, there was no reluctance. You weren’t scared to admit that it was true.

      “I love you,” you said, with a soft grin and a dreamy look in your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there together, looking at each other and kissing and holding each other, but it was enough time to make you forget the world. 

ayeeee!!! as a bonus, i’m including this lil thing i made, it’s supposed to be what i imagine moonrose’s IG to look like! the pictures are not her faceclaims, they’re just black women that i imagine moonrose to look like LMAO but she’s free to look like whatever u want her to ♡ this is her aesthetic!!

ENJOY! new chapter soon hopefully!!!!

tags added later ♡ 

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 9

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! Sorry this chapter took forever! But I hope you enjoy it! I have the rest of the series planned out, and it should be about 6 more chapters. I’m excited about where it is going and I hope you are too! Stay healthy, safe, and enjoy! Let me know what you think! Tags are open!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

The following Wednesday you were at practice. Bednar had the team gathered in a semi-circle as he informed them of the upcoming schedule before the holidays. “Oh and Coach Y/L/N. In case you didn’t know, we are playing Anaheim this Sunday,” Bednar turned back toward you.

           “Oh yay!” you said, clapping your hands together quickly. You couldn’t help but be excited to see some of your friends on the Ducks again. As soon as you said that though, you had many unapproving looks shot at you from the team. “I mean, oh no?”

“Who are you really rooting for Coach?” Tyson called out.

           “You guys, obviously,” you stated flippantly. “I know how they skate and I know how their skating coach skates so we got this.” Bednar chuckled.

           “I was going to ask if there is anything we should know about your time with the team?” he asked, and you looked at him questioningly.

           “No?” you said, confused at where he was going with this.

           “Just asking. Hockey players make comments and I would like for us to be prepared if they say anything about you,” he explained.

           “Oh,” you said, and thought for a second. “To be honest, I was mostly just around them for a quick showcase, charity events, or galas that they had. I have a few good friends from the team but I don’t think they would really say anything. I was more like everyone’s little sister when I was with them,” you said and everyone nodded. “Oh! If you hear the term ‘little dove’, that’s me.”

           “Little dove?” Gabe asked, and you shrugged.

           “A few called me little duck at first. But then after a showcase at one of their events I had performed in this greyish-pink dress and Getzlaf started to call me little dove. The rest of the team just followed along,” you explained. You caught eyes with Nate, and he smiled softly. You had just told him about that nickname last week when he saw a comment on your Instagram post from Hampus Lindholm. You had posted a funny picture from practice of Tyson laying flat on the ice and you doubled over laughing at him because he had seemingly tripped over nothing. You accompanied it with a caption of how the team always seems to brighten your day with a laughing emoji. Hampus commented “We feel so betrayed little dove.”

           After practice that day, Nate was over at your apartment after having gone to the store to get stuff for dinner. You wanted to cook that night, so he thought it was only fair if he bought the groceries. Since the two of you had started dating, you tended to stay in at his or your place, not wanting to fuel rumors. A picture of the two of you dancing at the gala was posted recently, the media team not thinking much of it, but oh boy did it spread like wildfire. While your fans thought it was cute, Nate’s fans were a mix. You were starting to see how vicious some hockey fans could be.

           You were finishing the shrimp for shrimp scampi when Nate came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I have a question,” he mumbled into the hair at the top of your head. You hummed, encouraging him to go on. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked. You smiled, forgetting that it was already December.

           “Nothing,” you said simply.

           “There has to be something,” Nate stole a shrimp from the pan and you batted his hand away. He chuckled and kissed your cheek. You finished the dish, turned off the stove, and turned to face him.

           “Well, there is something,” you smiled up at him. Nate smiled back at you, raising his eyebrow in question. “A unicorn.” Nate’s face fell and you couldn’t help but laugh.

           “Seriously Y/N?”

           “Actually, in all seriousness, I want a unicorn that poops rainbows. But I know those are hard to find,” you laughed as Nate rolled his eyes at you. He maneuvered you away from the stove and lifted you onto the counter, standing in between your legs.

           “Why are you being difficult?” Nate asked, humor in his voice.

           “Well what do you want for Christmas?” you asked, smiling widely at him. Nate shrugged.

           “I don’t need anything,” he said.

           “It’s not about what you need. What do you want?”

           “Nothing.” Nate smiled mockingly at you.

           “You can’t say nothing and expect me to tell you something!” You laughed. The conversation went on like this for another 10 minutes, neither one of you giving in. You kept up with wanting a unicorn, much to Nate’s dismay. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic, and really wanted to get this right with you. Since he wouldn’t tell you anything though, you didn’t budge either. It seemed like you had both met your match when it came to stubbornness.    

           A while later, Nate had just got out of the shower and you were finishing putting the dishes away from dinner. As you turned your lights off and made sure your front door was locked, you looked out the window and immediately smiled. It was snowing. Running into your bedroom, you started to grab your big coat and a beanie, shoving your feet into a pair of boots. “Going somewhere?” Nate asked as he walked out of the bathroom, highly confused.

           “It’s snowing outside! Let’s go!” you squealed, throwing his shirt and sweatshirt at him.

           “This isn’t the first time it’s snowed since you’ve been here Y/N,” Nate chuckled, but continued to get dressed to go outside.

           “Yes, but it usually happens when I’m sleeping or at the rink! I haven’t been out while it’s snowing yet!” You bounced around your room, continuing to check the window to make sure snow was still falling.

           “It’s just snow,” Nate said, finally finishing putting his shoes on. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to your front door.

           “Yes, but I’m from Southern California! I always had to drive to the snow. I want to go outside while it’s coming down actually!” You grabbed your keys and left your apartment. Nate allowed you to drag him along, silently amused at your excitement. Luckily for the two of you, your apartment building had a secluded courtyard in the middle so you didn’t have to go out front to the main street. This allowed Nate and you not to worry about being seen together this late at night. That would definitely be the source of more speculation.

           Once outside, you giggled with excitement and ran to the middle of the empty courtyard. Looking up toward the sky, you stuck your tongue out to catch the snow as it came down. Nate walked up beside you and grabbed your hand. You took out your phone and had Nate take a picture of the two of you, realizing you really didn’t have any. What better way to commemorate your first snow in Colorado than with Nate? After spinning around all excited for a moment, you walked back over to Nate and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his sweatshirt as your nose was starting to freeze. Nate held you close to him, looking down and tilting your chin up so you met his eyes. He chuckled softly at your red cheeks and nose, leaning down and fitting his lips to yours. The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in a blissful bubble you had created.  You pulled away slightly and shivered, the cold starting to get to you. Nate smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze,” he muttered, taking your hand and leading you back up to your apartment. Once back in your apartment and in your pajamas, you crawled into bed and over to Nate who was already laying down looking through his phone. You cuddled into his side and weaved your legs with his.

           “Jesus babe! Your feet are freezing!” he jumped slightly, putting his phone down. You laughed but didn’t move.

           “Poor circulation from tying my skates too tight over the years. Sorry,” you giggled. Nate shook his head, but didn’t bother moving. If being with you meant dealing with cold feet, he didn’t think that was a bad price to pay.

~ ~ ~

           Sunday had arrived and it brought with it the Ducks. You were currently standing by the bench with the other coaches as the team was warming up. You had just finished talking with Bradie Tennell, the skating coach for the Ducks. The two of you were on the Olympic team together and had become good friends. She let you know that the team had been good to her so far, and that made you happy. You were leaning against the board when Ryan Getzlaf skated up to you.

           “How are they treating you, little dove?” he asked, and you smiled at the familiarity of the name. The question didn’t surprise you; he had always been protective. You were young and talented when you first started to skate in Anaheim, and some of the rookies took interest in you. Being so focused on making the Olympic team though, you barley noticed. The captain announced one practice that you were off limits, and they complied. After that it seemed the whole team had become extra protective of you.  

           “Good! They’re a good group. I like it here,” you answered honestly. He nodded and looked back out over the ice.

           “Is that why it looks like I’m about to get in a fight with 29 tonight?” Ryan smirked at you. You found Nate on the ice and smiled at him, and the tension in his jaw seemed to release as he went back to what he was doing. Nate knew you were friends with the Ducks and figured some may go talk to you; but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that they could talk to you so openly and no one would question it while the two of you had to date secretly.

           “He’s just protective like you are,” you tried to laugh it off, but Ryan gave you a look that said you were not fooling him. You smiled sweetly and he shook his head.

           “Whatever you say little dove,” Ryan said and skated off.

           “Be nice!” you yelled after him and he let out a laugh.

           “Will you stop fraternizing with the enemy Coach?” Tyson asked skating into the box.

           “Just for you Tyson,” you winked at him.

           Later, the third period had just began and the teams were tied. The whole game had been a back and forth with scoring. A few times when one of the Ducks would skate by, they would say hi, wave, or wink at you. The winking seemed to happen only when Nate was on the bench, and you were wondering if Ryan had said anything. You needed to work on being a better liar.

           Nate was on the ice when Hampus Lindholm skated by before a face off. “You know, we were all sad when Y/N left us to come here. I would think she’s a good coach,” Hampus judged Nate’s reaction. Nate side-eyed him, but didn’t say anything. “She’s cute too,” Hampus pushed a bit further. The Ducks’ captain had said that chirping about Y/N was off limits, but he had also said he felt it may get under MacKinnon’s skin. When you talked about being friends with some of the Ducks, Hampus was one of them. He didn’t want to be disrespectful toward you, but he thought it would be fun to see if he could push the center’s buttons. Nate took a deep breath and continued to ignore him. “You know she was my date to a charity event once,” Hampus continued. Nate did know this; you had told him you went as friends since you were going to the charity also. He knew it was nothing, he knew Lindholm was trying to dig at him, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t bother him. When the puck was dropped, Nate threw himself into the defenseman, promptly flattening him out on the ice.

           Nothing was called and the play kept going, but you stood behind the bench with wide eyes. What had just happened? You were so distracted in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realized the buzzard had gone off, signaling an Avs’ goal. Turning your attention back to the team celebrating at the end of the ice, you saw them all gathering around Nate. Of course you had missed it. That was the only score of the third period, the Avs winning 3-2.

           After the game and interviews were done, you had said bye to some of the guys and Bradie. Nate had asked if you wanted to stay at his place that night, so you made your way to his apartment. You texted him that you were there, and he told you the front was unlocked. Upon walking into his apartment, he called you over to the couch where he was laying down and pulled you down on top of him. You gave him a quick kiss, then settled your chin on his chest, looking at him expectantly. “So,” you started. Nate knew where the conversation was going.

           “You really did just go to the charity thing with Lindholm as friends, right?” he asked, furrowing his brow a little.

           “Yeah, that’s all it was. Why?”

           “He said you were his date,” Nate shrugged and started to play with your hair, twisting and untwisting a strand around his finger.

           “As friends. I have no feelings for him whatsoever,” you explained, then realized why he was asking you to clarify. “Is that why you hit him so hard during the game?” Nate averted his eyes from you, slightly ashamed he let what Lindholm had said get to him. You giggled, knowing that was the issue. “Nate, babe. There was nothing there, nor will there every be anything there. And that goes for the rest of everyone. Don’t let it get to you okay,” you said, kissing him softly. You pulled away and rested your palm against his cheek. “Plus, he’s not my type.” That perked Nate right up.

           “So, what is your type?” he wrapped his arms around you with a smirk.    

           “Big, burly, 6-foot Canadians with blue eyes who are just as stubborn as I am,” you smirked at him. Nate rolled his eyes, but laughed and pulled you in for another kiss. He flipped the two of you so that your back was to the couch now with him hovering over you. Nate started placing quick kisses all over your face and you giggled as his stubble tickled your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a while longer before ordering take out and getting ready for bed.

~ ~ ~

           The holidays fast approached, and you were thankful the team had four days off for Christmas. You had already booked a flight back home for the morning of Christmas Eve, and would be flying back to Denver on the morning of the 26th. For you, going home was easy as it was only a two in a half hour flight. You had booked it when you first got the schedule back in September. You were starting to feel bad that not everyone on the team would be going home though, Nate included. If you had known that you would have been in any sort of relationship, you may have opted to stay as well. When you brought this up to Nate, he told you not to worry about it, and that he would even take you and pick you up from the airport.

           On the 23rd, you and Nate had just got back to your apartment after having dinner with everyone who was still in town. Since there were multiple people going, you figured nothing would come of it to be seen out with Nate in public. The two of you were still keeping your relationship from mostly everyone on the team, so it was easy to act like you had been at practice. To anyone who didn’t know, it just looked like you two were good friends.

           You showered and put your pajamas on, setting out your present for Nate on the coffee table and finding a movie to watch while he showered. You had settled on watching a Hallmark Christmas movie, because who doesn’t secretly love the cheesiness of it all? Nate sat down next to you on the couch and pulled you into his side. Placing a blanket over the both of you, you settled into watching the movie, pointedly trying to ignore the Christmas gift bag he had set down on the coffee table next to your gift to him.

           After the movie, you turned the tv off and just enjoyed being in each other’s company. The only lights on were the Christmas lights from the fake tree you had set up, and other Christmas lights you had decorated with. Your apartment looked a bit like Christmas exploded in it, but it made you happy and Nate laugh. You made some hot chocolate, and sat back down facing Nate. Handing him his, you took a sip and set your mug down on the coffee table, in turn picking up your gift to him. “Present time!” you sang, handing him the gift. You weren’t sure what he would think of it, realizing it was difficult to buy for someone who seemingly had everything he wanted.

Nate unwrapped the gift, and smiled upon taking it out of the box. It was a wooden watch, one that you had found on Etsy. It was a dark stained wood that you had engraved on the back of the watch face. As Nate turned it over in his hands, he smiled wider and chuckled. You were able to convince the designer to engrave a hockey skate and a figure skate. Above the skates read “Merry Christmas” with the year, and both your initials. “I know you already have a watch, but I thought the wood was neat and I was excited when the person said they could engrave the skates on it, and…” you were cut off from your rambling by Nate pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“It’s perfect Y/N. Thank you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead and admiring the thoughtful gift. He set it down and handed you the gift bag. You smiled while you took the tissue paper off the top, feeling fabric at the bottom of the bag and took it out. You laughed, seeing the familiar burgundy and blue. Holding it out in front of you, you saw the 29 on the arm, turning it around to see ‘MacKinnon’ on the back. While you unfolded it though, a smaller box fell into your lap. “I know you can’t wear it to games, but I wanted to get you my jersey,” Nate explained as you slipped it on over your pajama top.

“Thank you,” you said, blushing slightly and turning your attention to the box. Opening it up, you saw the most beautiful, small and delicate figure skate charm you had even seen. It was gold with diamonds encrusted into it. Taking it out of the box, you noticed it was attached to a delicate gold chain as a necklace. You turned it over in your hand, feeling something on the back of the charm. You giggled, noticing a ‘29’ engraved onto the back.  “Nate, it’s beautiful.”

“I thought you could at least wear my number to games this way. If you don’t like it we can go get you something else,” Nate looked at you unsure, and you shook your head.

“Help me put it on?” you asked, and turned around. Nate deftly clasped the necklace together. “How does it look?”

“Perfect,” he said, and you grinned at him.

“I love it, thank you,” you said, and leaned in to kiss him. What was an innocent gesture quickly turned heated as Nate pulled you onto his lap, you straddling him. Your fingers carded through the hair at the nape of his neck as his hands pushed the hem of the jersey and your pajama shirt up, gripping your hips. You pulled back after some time, needing to take a breath and maneuvered yourself to where you were sitting in Nate’s lap and leaned your head on his shoulder. Nate chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you can’t wear my jersey to games. I don’t think I could concentrate,” he mumbled. You giggled and pecked his neck, the both of you settling back down.

The following morning Nate drove you to the airport. Thankful for his tinted windows, you kissed him quickly before anyone would figure out who the both of you were and grabbed your bags. “Merry Christmas Nate,” you said, slipping out of the car.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” he said with a soft smile, and you felt your heart tug at the thought of leaving him for a few days. It struck you that this was the first time since September you wouldn’t be around him almost every day.

“I will,” you returned his smile. Nate quickly reached over the center counsel for your hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he said lightly, realizing the same thing you were. You grabbed your bags and smiled, waving as you shut the door and headed into the airport. Nate made sure you were inside the building before he took off, not being bothered by the honks he was receiving from annoyed holiday travelers.      

Tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @comphybiscuit​ @calesykar​ @andreiaafaria​

[missjanjie]

Santa Ana Winded | Gottrosé

Title: Santa Ana Winded Summary: Rosé is visiting Los Angeles just as the infamous Santa Ana Winds are kicking into high gear. On paper, that's fine, but staying with Mik certainly isn't going to make handling the potential effects of the 'devil winds' any easier. Word Count: 1823 Relationship(s): Gottrosé (Rosé/Gottmik) Rating: E

and thank you to @nickysjaida for beta-ing! ♥

read on ao3 | ko-fi

“Where are you staying, again?” Jan asked as he helped Rosé finish packing.

Rosé smiled as he propped the suitcase against the wall. “I’m staying with Mik. You know, he lives in that fancy house with all those influencers, and he was so insistent with that cute, little LA vocal fry, it’s impossible to say no to.”

Jan arched his brow – he knew his friend and he knew that smile. “You better watch yourself, sis,” he warned. “Especially going this time of year, that’s when the Santa Ana winds start hitting hard.”

“Why is that relevant?”

“They call them the Devil Winds,” he explained. “It’s known to cause weird dreams, usually about your deepest desires and fears. It also triggered the shit out of my allergies, but that’s not the point. It might cause you to act a little impulsive, is all I’m saying.”

Rosé’s brows rose in curiosity. “The fuck were you dreaming about at summer camp, huh?”

Jan blushed and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter because unlike during season twelve, I wouldn’t have had the chance to even consider acting on it, and I was having normal dreams on the plane home,” he said flatly. “You, however, are going in a lot more vulnerable to those devil winds,” he teased.

He scoffed. “Fuck off, I don’t even have allergies. And I think I’ll be able to control myself… you know, as long as I don’t drink,” he murmured. He was well aware that Jan and the whole internet knew what happened when he and Mik were left alone with alcohol.

“That’s a tall order for you, babe. Good luck.”

------

By the time Rosé landed in LAX, he had stopped thinking about Jan’s warnings about the wind. Jan was known to be dramatic, after all. He was sure his friend was just getting him riled up for no reason, or using it to justify whatever sex dreams he’d had about a certain other NYC queen, not that he was going to name names, but he could’ve.

It didn’t take long before he spotted Mik, but he’d only taken a few steps in his direction before the other queen came barrelling towards him at full speed, launching himself into Rosé’s open arms.

“Hi, baby,” Rosé greeted with a fond laugh, picking Mik up and spinning him around quickly, then carefully setting him back down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you so much, gorge,” Mik grinned as they made their way out of the airport. “This is gonna be so much fun. We should go live, the fans always go nuts for that,” he suggested. Once they stepped outside, he winced. “Fuck, it’s still windy as hell.”

Rosé nodded, “ah, the infamous Santa Ana Winds,” he observed as he loaded his luggage into the trunk of Mik’s car. “Jan gave me a whole warning about them. Do they actually fuck with your head and all of that?”

“I guess it, like, depends on your mental state or whatever. Last year we had to talk Gigi out of buying a plane ticket to Missouri, she was feeling it real heavy, like, she was either going to pull some teen romance stunt with Crystal or murder her boyfriend,” he explained with a casual flippancy as they made the drive back to his house. “Why, you worried the devil winds are gonna come for you?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, gaze avoidant. “No, just wanna be prepared for whatever chaos I’m walking into, you know? Knowing you, I could be walking in on an orgy or a crime scene.”

“I don’t see the problem here, gorge,” Mik retorted flippantly as he pulled up in front of the house.

Rosé laughed softly as he got out and grabbed his things. “Of course you don’t,” he retorted with a dry laugh as he followed him inside.

------

As it turned out, Rosé’s resolve not to drink was weak. He wouldn’t claim that he gave in to the peer pressure of a group of young twenty-somethings, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t allow himself to give in so his mind and body would shut up.

But he had fun, Mik was a good time and the group of them knew how to party without being over the top. Nothing happened between him and Mik throughout the night beyond some too-close, sloppy, dancing, so he went to bed that night considering it a success.

It wasn’t long before Rosé fell asleep, the powerful gusts of wind serving to soothe him. The way the palm trees creaked and rattled from the relentless devil winds turned into little more than white noise. The dream that followed, however, played out what he had prevented in reality.

The dream wasn’t coherent and linear, but the content was clear – he was in bed with Mik, both of them naked. Their hands and mouths were all over each other, moans spilling from their lips. It felt real, too real.

When he jolted awake, Rosé swore he could still feel Mik’s fingers lingering on his skin. His face and chest were bright red and his breathing was heavy. He looked under the covers and groaned at the tent that was pitched in his boxers.

Before Rosé could address the situation at hand, he heard the bedroom door creak open and he quickly repositioned himself on his side to cover his erection. “Mik?” he squinted his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness, adjusting enough to make out the familiar frame.

“Oh, perf, you’re awake.” Mik’s voice normally had such a casual nonchalance about it, but when he spoke this time, there seemed to be a mix of both strain and relief. “Look, I know this is gonna sound fucking lame as shit, but I had a, um…” he shook his head, just getting the words out was impossible with the strength of his pride.

“A dream, perchance?” Rosé chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, “because that would make two of us.”

The tension left Mik’s body and a spark of confidence took its place. “So, you feel it too,” it was somewhere between a question and an observation, but he didn’t wait for Rosé to clarify. He crawled onto the bed and straddled his lap, his eyes instantly going wide. “It really was the same dream, huh?” he smirked.

Rosé couldn’t even be embarrassed when he met Mik’s eyes, the lust he saw in them erasing any emotion beyond unbridled desire. Logic and reason were gone with the wind and the next thing he knew, his hands were on Mik’s face and he was pulling him into a kiss. It was deep and heated, their tongues swirled together and their hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Very few words were spoken – if they talked, they might start overthinking and psyche themselves out. They were already in too deep, there was no turning back now. It was too fast, fervent, clothes were being tossed aside in every direction. The only time they came up for air was when Mik reached into the end table drawer to grab lube and a condom.

They switched positions, Rosé rolling on top of Mik. He took the bottle of lube and slicked up two fingers, working in one, then another. His eyes were trained on Mik’s face, watching for any expression that he should stop. Instead, he watched his face contort in pleasure and listened to the moans that spilled from his lips.

Mik took the condom that was still on the bed and tore it open with his teeth, then rolled it down Rosé’s length. “This is your last chance to back out,” he warned, though there was a clear, unspoken ‘please don’t’.

“I’m not,” Rosé assured. He had already gotten to this point and god, he was aching to see it through. He carefully eased into him, one hand guiding his length while the other steadied himself by holding onto Mik’s waist. He let out a grunt as he bottomed out, then slowly picked up a steady thrusting pace.

“Fuck…” Mik exhaled in a breathy moan. His hips bucked up, picking up the rhythm of Rosé’s thrusts and writhing in tandem. He didn’t realize just how deeply and intensely his lust for him ran until it culminated in that moment. His fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder blades, blunt nails still leaving indentations.

Even during sex, little was said between them beyond whispers of praise or dirty talk. Their moans and whines were loud and passionate, culminating sharply when they rode out their orgasms in tandem.

Rosé had to catch his breath before he pulled out, rolling the condom off his length and throwing it away. He laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, heavy breathing and wind blowing the only noises remaining.

Mik shifted over to Rosé, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his chest. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “Just… don’t say it.”

And Mik was right, so he didn’t.

------

“You’re looking pretty guilty,” Jan observed as he sat with Rosé during the uber ride back from the airport. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with a certain LA-based season thirteen drag queen?”

“Nope, I didn’t even see Symone.”

Jan crossed his arms and arched his brow. “Come on, Rosie…”

Rosé groaned, getting out of the car and grabbing his luggage from the trunk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted before they walked up and took the elevator into his apartment. It wasn’t until they were alone in his bedroom that he sighed and confessed, “I had sex with Mik.”

Even though Jan suspected as much, hearing his friend make that confession still caught him by surprise. “Oh shit,” he gasped softly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t fucking know!” he ran his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth across his bedroom. “How am I supposed to explain that I ignored the very clear instruction of ‘do not hook up with Mik’? I know being stupid is part of my brand, but this is crossing a line that I don’t know if I can bounce back from if I even deserve it.”

Jan stopped Rosé by grabbing onto his shoulders. “Listen to me, whatever happens, however it turns out, I’m gonna be here for you,” he promised. “I’ve gotta head out now, but I will drop everything in an instant if you need me, okay?” and after they exchanged goodbyes, he was on his way.

Rosé rubbed his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He shook his head, then his heart dropped to his stomach when he heard the front door rattling, then opening. “I’ll be right there, baby!” he called out, then refocused his gaze at his reflection. “You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.”

[omgitscharlie]

𝖕𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖇𝖔𝖝𝖎𝖓𝖌

ɪɴᴜᴋᴀɢ | ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴏɴ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ | ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛ

@horriblehowl YOU WANT IT YOU GOT IT BAYBEEE. 

i have been working on this for lol too long but i’m HOWLING (get it) at what i just created. it’s an abomination in the best way. enjoy.

SUMMARY: Inuyasha helps Kagome open her PR boxes on camera and is astounded at what she receives. tagging:  @princessinume, @rightoveryonder, @digital-art-monster, @heathersmusings, @nectarine500, @biancam70, @keichanz, @mickisketch, @mamabearcat , @littlestuffstohide, @misteria247, @aizawa-slaysme, @preciouslyours, @clementinesgulag, @sailorbabydoll92, @trepidatingboarfetus, @karibookat, @liz8080, @chimichangadude, @kagometaishostory, @shinidamachu, @blairex, @bluejay785, @ruddcatha, @inuyashasimp, @bluehawaiicat, @caribmiko, @ghostinluke, @hnn-wnchstr , @horriblehowl, @lavendertwilight89, @anxietyaardvark, @i-dream-of-soup, @sistasecbhere, @neutronstarchild, @kaze-ranna, @bigjakenenergy, @holi-holy, @marak7, @its11-11, @pinkpigeonstudio, @ntkrrs, @mymidnightnightmare, @smmahamazing, @sailorlolo​

AO3 + FFN

“Please tell me this is the last of ‘em.”

How many times had they gone to and from her car, grabbing boxes and boxes of PR that they’d picked up from her PO box. Watching him carry many more boxes than herself towards the front of her apartment building, she let out a small giggle, knowing that he’d become used to this by now.

“Yup!” she chirped before following after him with the three boxes that she’d grabbed from the backseat. Kagome followed after him, managing to press the lock button on her key and hear the familiar beeps.

Taking their millionth trip up the elevator, Inuyasha adjusted some of the boxes he was holding with a grunt, “Some of these boxes are fuckin’ heavy, Kagome. What the hell is in here?” 

“I honestly have no idea. You know how some brands are. Remember when I showed you that box that had a small screen inside that played a video? They’re intense sometimes.” It seemed as though brands were trying to up the ante these days, making their PR more elaborate and opulent. A waste was what Kagome called it. She’d asked some brands to just send their products in a simple box, nothing else. Some complied and others seemed to have missed the memo.

Hearing the ding, the doors opened and Kagome walked out first, knowing she would need to open the door and let him in. As much as she would find it easier to just leave the door unlocked, she knew there was already thousands of dollars worth of product inside that people could easily steal. 

Holding the door open, she watched her boyfriend carry the last of the boxes in before kicking the door shut behind her. Kicking off her shoes, she followed Inuyasha to the living room, where they’d been stacking the boxes in front of the couch. It was too crowded to open boxes in her studio and Inuyasha didn’t feel comfortable filming in his home, so Kagome opted for the living room. 

Typically, Kagome would film while Inuyasha did some work in her bedroom, but today she’d roped him into coming on camera with her and participate in a PR unboxing haul, “Thank you for carrying those boxes up, babe,” she praised, watching as he carefully stacked the boxes on top of one another.

“Yeah well, if I didn’t do it, you’da been doin’ this all day,” he countered in an attempt to deflect her thanks, an old habit that he’d yet to break. Placing the last box down, he placed his hands on his hips to marvel at his handiwork, “There. Done.”

“Looks great,” she complimented as she moved to stand beside him, gently maneuvering him so he faced her so she could get up on her tiptoes and wrap her arms around his neck. Easily, Inuyasha sank into her touch, wrapping his arms around her waist and happily letting her press a kiss to his lips. Allowing it to linger for a moment or two before pulling away, Kagome smiled up at the man that she’d been dating for the past year and a half, “I’m excited,” she stated honestly, not surprised by the perplexed expression on Inuyasha’s face.

“Why?”

“I like filming with you, is all,” stated as if it were obvious, she could see his cheeks flush as he averted his gaze, “My followers like it, too.”

“Keh. I ain’t interesting to watch,” he scoffed while feeling Kagome’s lips press to his jawline out of comfort. Turning his head back to her, he stole a kiss from her, unable to help himself. 

“Yes you are,” she murmured against his lips, still keeping her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled away enough to find his gaze with her own, “You gunna take your hat off?” she knew it was a sensitive subject, and by the way he tensed in reaction to her question, Kagome understood that he wasn’t ready, “It’s okay. You don’t need to,” she reassured, unwrapping her arms and running them down the front of his chest as she lowered back onto her heels.

Inuyasha knew that Kagome loved his ears, she made that blatantly obvious whenever she could; rubbing them while they lay on the couch, teasing them with her lips if she wanted to get back at him for making her beg, and he knew if they were in public she would take every chance to touch them. Yes. Kagome was accepting and loving towards his appearance and what it meant, but he knew not everyone was like that. Hell, before Kagome, every person he showed them to found them strange. 

“Uh, yeah. Not yet,” or ever.

Nodding in understanding, she released herself from his grip and began making her way to her studio, “Gunna help me move the lights and camera?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he conceded, subconsciously adjusting the beanie on his head as he followed in after her.

They had to sit on the floor, the camera and her more portable lights set up in front of them on the other side of the coffee table. Adjusting the white balance, lighting and contrast, she finally settled on an image that suited her taste. All the while, her rather impatient boyfriend remained seated cross legged with his arms folded across his chest. Wearing a black henley with the first two buttons undone, it was easy to see the hint of fresh ink that began to sprawl over the entirety of his chest. 

“Okay, got it,” Kagome finally said, pressing record and moving to sit beside him before adjusting her light grey tank top topped by a thin black cardigan. 

“About time,” he murmured with the intent to only do so to himself, but soon saw Kagome shoot him a glare. 

“I need to make sure it’s in focus and properly balanced - this isn’t something we can just do over,” she explained in a rather scolding tone, only to see her boyfriend give her one of his infamous eyerolls. Not in the mood for his attitude, she smacked his arm with the back of her hand, looking up at him with her own scowl.

“Hey! Jesus. Can we just start?” He snapped, glowering down at her with a furrowed brow. Kagome continued to glare at him, Inuyasha unsure just what she wanted him to do and he wanted to figure it out soon; he could only handle that glare for so long.

“Apology kiss,” she demanded, keeping her face close to his while Inuyasha scoffed in faux inconvenience before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. It was short and sweet, rewarded with a bright smile on her face as she broke away, “Okay, we can start now.”

After a quick introduction to her channel, she let her followers know that Inuyasha would be helping her unbox PR, “As you can see we have...a wall of boxes that Inuyasha graciously carried up and stacked so well,” she stated with a soft giggle, looking to her boyfriend as he peered behind him with a grin, “Do you wanna choose the first one we open?” she asked, seeing his gaze flit towards hers and back to the boxes.

“Sure.”

As he gently gripped random boxes, trying to see which one was loose enough to grab without toppling the whole thing over, Kagome continued, staring back towards the camera as she did so, “As I always do with my PR unboxings, I’ll be putting things aside for a giveaway. All you gotta do is go to the link in the description and complete everything there to enter - the end date to enter will be there too.”

Grabbing a medium-sized box, he pulled it down without disturbing the structure behind them and placed it in his lap.

“Oh! Let me grab a knife,” Kagome stated while climbing to her feet and running to the kitchen. Inuyasha was about to tell her to not bother, but simply shrugged when he heard her patter around the kitchen. 

By the time she’d returned with the knife, holding it rather valiantly and proudly, the package was already sliced open, “Wait. What?” she asked, only to see Inuyasha lift his hand with a face full of disbelief towards her lack of realization that he had claws, “Oh!” she gave a slightly embarrassed laugh, “Right!” she waved her hand at him flippantly, as if she’d known the whole time. 

Shaking his head in bemusement, he looked down to the box and opened it, seeing a bunch of extra packaging before finding the products that lay beneath, “I don’t know what any of this is,” he stated bluntly as he pulled a few products out and held them out for her to take without looking at her so he could rummage around for more. Taking the products, she looked at one of the boxes and lit up with excitement.

“Oh! This is the new Milk Makeup™ foundation and primer. I’ve heard you guys tell me that you want me to review these so I’ll put those aside,” and she did just that, prepared to make two separate piles: one for the giveaway and one for her to keep. As soon as she’d put those products down, she saw Inuyasha holding out another handful for her to take. Taking those, she talked through what each product was until Inuyasha reached back to grab another box.

Opening it with his index finger, he pulled it open before scrunching his nose and turning his head away on the verge of coughing, “Fuckin’ hell. This box reeks,” he choked out before finally letting out a cough to try and get the taste out of the back of his throat. With his head turned away, he shoved the box into Kagome’s lap while lifting his tattooed arm to shove his mouth and nose into the crook of it.

“Are you okay?” she asked, somewhat amused by his visceral reaction, especially since she knew exactly was in the box, “I guess I should tell Bath and Body Works™ to not send any more candles,” she stated as she pulled out a three-wicked candle that supposedly was scented with sandalwood and pine, “Or I’ll just burn them when you’re not around.” 

“Like hell you are! Burnin’ ‘em would just make the whole apartment smell,” he countered, only to hear Kagome release an amused giggle. He wasn’t wrong, it would make it smell for at least a couple of days and would likely end up causing her to hold the same scent. As much as she adored burning a nicely scented candle, inconveniencing her boyfriend held precedent, especially if that as his reaction.

“Guess they’re going in the giveaway,” she stated before closing up the box and setting it as far away from Inuyasha as possible. Though the scent lingered, it was far away enough for the scent to not burn his nostrils and shoot down the back of his throat, “Can you grab that huge box by the end of the couch? I think that’s gunna take a while to go through,” she prompted, seeing Inuyasha climb to his feet with a nod.

Needing to slide the box into frame, it reached Kagome’s shoulders as she sat, “This one was heavy,” Inuyasha stated bluntly as he knelt down as used his claw to open it up. Leaning over, she could see a bunch of frosted bags inside and her brows furrowed, “Huh…” Inuyasha began before pulling out one of the bags and handing it to her. 

Adjusting the bag right-side up, she could see a logo that she couldn’t discern before sliding the bag open and peering inside, “Oh! I think that’s full of swimwear!” Kagome stated as she pulled the bright-red two piece from the bag as she listened to Inuyasha rummage around through the box, as if he was searching for something.

“I swear I saw it…” he muttered before feeling the poster board against his fingers, “Ah-ha!” Pulling the piece of paper from the box, he saw that it was a postcard with an image of white, sandy beaches and palm trees.

“What does it say?” 

“Uh,” Inuyasha flipped it over and stared at the words for a moment before finally reading it aloud, “Dear Kagome and Inuyasha, we are so excited to have you join our brand trip this summer. To make sure you’re prepared, here’s a big box of swimwear for the two of you to wear while enjoying the sandy beaches and crystal clear waters of Hawaii. We’ve also thrown in some new products that we think you’ll love. We’ll be seeing you soon. From, Trippin’ with Tarte™.” Inuyasha glanced towards the box before handing the card over to Kagome so she could look over it, “So, this whole box is just swimwear?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” she mused before getting on her knees herself and digging through the box, feeling something plastic at the bottom of it. Tugging on it, she made a sound of struggle before yanking it out and falling back on her ass with a yelp. A large, clear plastic weekender bag landed in her lap, filled with products - some new and some old. 

“You okay?” Inuyasha couldn’t help but ask, though it was obvious that she was fine, “That’s a lot of shit,” he added, seeing the bag filled at least half way with product. 

Kagome knew that she would need to do a lot of censorship in this video, as she normally did when Inuyasha came on camera with her. Though her main audience were people her age, there were still younger viewers that watched her and she was conscious of that. Yet, she didn’t want Inuyasha to try and censor himself while they were filming - she already knew she was asking a lot of him to even just be sitting in front of the camera in the first place.

“Yeah,” she replied, lifting the bag and inspecting it, “Wow, there’s so much in here. Thank you Tarte™. The bathing suits look great too. I’m gunna go through this bag later and see if there is anything that’ll go in the giveaway.” Placing the bag to the side, she watched as Inuyasha effortlessly lifted the box and slid it away on the wood floor. 

Peering behind him, he could hear Kagome ask if he could grab the bright red, medium sized box that was right smack dab in the middle of the stack, “That’s gunna bring the whole thing down, if I do; I guarantee it,” he challenged, letting his attention fall back to his girlfriend with a skeptical expression.

“I believe in you,” she chirped in deflection, offering him a cheeky smile as Inuyasha narrowed his gaze towards her. 

Muttering to himself, he began pulling at the box, placing his hand on the boxes above it in hopes that they wouldn’t fall over. The box itself was deceptively heavier than he’d originally thought it to be, dense and very obviously not holding makeup. The scent of silicone heavily coated the box, leaving him slightly confused as he yanked it out. 

For a moment he thought he was successful in his jenga move, but slowly the boxes started to tilt in their direction, “Oh shit!” he called out, while Kagome let out a shriek of surprise. Quickly, Inuyasha reached to grab Kagome and pull her against his chest while she held her own arms over her head in an attempt to keep any boxes from hitting her. Thankfully, most of them were relatively light, tumbling off Inuyasha back and onto the floor.

When it became clear that all of the ones that would fall, did, Inuyasha pulled from Kagome some, looking down at her with an unimpressed face fixed with a light dose of smugness, “Told ya.”

Kagome gave him a nervous laugh while looking up at him, “Oops,” she apologized while Inuyasha cut the tape of the box that’d been the cause of the avalanche. His eyes never left her face as he did so, that same unimpressed look on his own as he opened the box and reached inside. It was only when he grabbed another box (though much larger than any he’d grabbed before) that he looked away from her and towards whatever was in his hand.

Both of them froze at the realization of what it was, choking on their embarrassment and shock.

“What is this?” Inuyasha sputtered, turning his attention to Kagome and away from the rather high-tech looking pink dildo that he held in his hand.

Kagome’s face went beat red, catching his gaze with her own and trying hard not to laugh, “It’s-

“I know what it is!” 

That was it. Kagome couldn’t hold back her laughter, letting it erupt from her lungs as she loudly and playfully argued, “You asked!”

“Are companies sendin’ you sex toys now?!” He asked rather incredulously, gesturing to the box in his hand as Kagome kept up her fit of laughter. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she continued her laughing fit as her boyfriend’s face fell back into one of lack of impression. 

When she finally managed to get herself under control, she wiped away the tears from her eyes while her laughter turned into small fits of giggles, “You done?” he asked flatly, seeing her nod as she reached out to grab the full box and dig out the card that she knew probably came along the product.

Finding it, she pulled it out and began to read it, “It’s from adamandeve.com,” she managed to say, though when she saw the next line, she couldn’t help but struggle to get the words out through laughter, “They,” a deep breath, “they gave me a p-promo code!” She fell back into a fit of laughter, leaning her head forward to rest it on Inuyasha’s shoulder. 

Out of everything she could have received, he had to admit, sex toys were very last one his list. Taking the card from Kagome’s hand, he read the print on the front of it, “Fifty percent off your first order if you use the code: KAGOME50. Are you serious?! They’re givin’ you a fuckin’ affiliate link?!”

Kagome was laughing so hard she was silent, mouth open and eyes closed tight as she kept leaning on him to keep herself from falling over. 

“Jesus Kagome. How old are you - twelve?”

“Your face!” she practically screamed, “I’m keeping all of this!”

“Like hell you are!” he scolded, only to see her nod in defiance, catching her breath with deep gasps as she straightened.

“I gotta let people know about the code,” she teased, both of them knowing full well that PR was never a guaranteed promotion. Peering down to the box, she opened it up a little more, “What else is in here, anyways?” she asked, sniffling as she wiped away a stray tear from the immense laughter she’d just partook in. Pulling out a ball gag, a butt plug and handcuffs, she could see the way her boyfriend side-eyed them. 

Tilting her head, she held up the box of cuffs with an inquisitive and playful expression, “Something interest you?” she asked, hearing her boyfriend give a dismissive scoff before folding his arms across his chest and averting his gaze, “That means yes.”

“Imma use that gag on you if you don’t shut your mouth,” he stated, flitting his gaze down to the box with the gag and back up to her face as he spoke.

“That a promise?” 

“Shut up,” he snapped back, though with a hint of a smile behind his tone, “We still got this pile of boxes to go through.”

“Since when do you care if we finish filming a video?” Kagome asked, pushing her index finger against the side of his arm. 

“Since you always make us get up and finish after we get distracted,” he rebutted, leaning closer to her to emphasize his point, arms still folded across his chest, “I’d rather just finish this so we don’t havta think about anythin’ else,” there was no seduction in his voice, no low husk or hint of arousal. It was matter of fact and, frankly, annoyed in nature, “Now can we move on?”

“Sounds like you got one of these up your ass,” she stated, holding up the butt plug with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Kagome, I swear t’god-” he warned, only to hear her giggle and feel her press a kiss to his cheek, dismantling any true anger or frustration he felt towards her.

Lifting her free hand, she coaxed his head to turn towards her, leaning forward to give a soft, small kiss to his lips before asking, “Can you pass me another box?”

[artificialqueens]

Santa Ana Winded (Gottrosé) - Joley

Summary: Rosé is visiting Los Angeles just as the infamous Santa Ana Winds are kicking into high gear. On paper, that’s fine, but staying with Mik certainly isn’t going to make handling the potential effects of the ‘devil winds’ any easier.

ao3 link

“Where are you staying, again?” Jan asked as he helped Rosé finish packing.

Rosé smiled as he propped the suitcase against the wall. “I’m staying with Mik. You know, he lives in that fancy house with all those influencers, and he was so insistent with that cute, little LA vocal fry, it’s impossible to say no to.”

Jan arched his brow – he knew his friend and he knew that smile. “You better watch yourself, sis,” he warned. “Especially going this time of year, that’s when the Santa Ana winds start hitting hard.”

“Why is that relevant?”

“They call them the Devil Winds,” he explained. “It’s known to cause weird dreams, usually about your deepest desires and fears. It also triggered the shit out of my allergies, but that’s not the point. It might cause you to act a little impulsive, is all I’m saying.”

Rosé’s brows rose in curiosity. “The fuck were you dreaming about at summer camp, huh?”

Jan blushed and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter because unlike during season twelve, I wouldn’t have had the chance to even consider acting on it, and I was having normal dreams on the plane home,” he said flatly. “You, however, are going in a lot more vulnerable to those devil winds,” he teased.

He scoffed. “Fuck off, I don’t even have allergies. And I think I’ll be able to control myself… you know, as long as I don’t drink,” he murmured. He was well aware that Jan and the whole internet knew what happened when he and Mik were left alone with alcohol.

“That’s a tall order for you, babe. Good luck.”

——

By the time Rosé landed in LAX, he had stopped thinking about Jan’s warnings about the wind. Jan was known to be dramatic, after all. He was sure his friend was just getting him riled up for no reason, or using it to justify whatever sex dreams he’d had about a certain other NYC queen, not that he was going to name names, but he could’ve.

It didn’t take long before he spotted Mik, but he’d only taken a few steps in his direction before the other queen came barrelling towards him at full speed, launching himself into Rosé’s open arms.

“Hi, baby,” Rosé greeted with a fond laugh, picking Mik up and spinning him around quickly, then carefully setting him back down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you so much, gorge,” Mik grinned as they made their way out of the airport. “This is gonna be so much fun. We should go live, the fans always go nuts for that,” he suggested. Once they stepped outside, he winced. “Fuck, it’s still windy as hell.”

Rosé nodded, “ah, the infamous Santa Ana Winds,” he observed as he loaded his luggage into the trunk of Mik’s car. “Jan gave me a whole warning about them. Do they actually fuck with your head and all of that?”

“I guess it, like, depends on your mental state or whatever. Last year we had to talk Gigi out of buying a plane ticket to Missouri, she was feeling it real heavy, like, she was either going to pull some teen romance stunt with Crystal or murder her boyfriend,” he explained with a casual flippancy as they made the drive back to his house. “Why, you worried the devil winds are gonna come for you?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, gaze avoidant. “No, just wanna be prepared for whatever chaos I’m walking into, you know? Knowing you, I could be walking in on an orgy or a crime scene.”

“I don’t see the problem here, gorge,” Mik retorted flippantly as he pulled up in front of the house.

Rosé laughed softly as he got out and grabbed his things. “Of course you don’t,” he retorted with a dry laugh as he followed him inside.

——

As it turned out, Rosé’s resolve not to drink was weak. He wouldn’t claim that he gave in to the peer pressure of a group of young twenty-somethings, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t allow himself to give in so his mind and body would shut up.

But he had fun, Mik was a good time and the group of them knew how to party without being over the top. Nothing happened between him and Mik throughout the night beyond some too-close, sloppy, dancing, so he went to bed that night considering it a success.

It wasn’t long before Rosé fell asleep, the powerful gusts of wind serving to soothe him. The way the palm trees creaked and rattled from the relentless devil winds turned into little more than white noise. The dream that followed, however, played out what he had prevented in reality.

The dream wasn’t coherent and linear, but the content was clear – he was in bed with Mik, both of them naked. Their hands and mouths were all over each other, moans spilling from their lips. It felt real, too real.

When he jolted awake, Rosé swore he could still feel Mik’s fingers lingering on his skin. His face and chest were bright red and his breathing was heavy. He looked under the covers and groaned at the tent that was pitched in his boxers.

Before Rosé could address the situation at hand, he heard the bedroom door creak open and he quickly repositioned himself on his side to cover his erection. “Mik?” he squinted his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness, adjusting enough to make out the familiar frame.

“Oh, perf, you’re awake.” Mik’s voice normally had such a casual nonchalance about it, but when he spoke this time, there seemed to be a mix of both strain and relief. “Look, I know this is gonna sound fucking lame as shit, but I had a, um…” he shook his head, just getting the words out was impossible with the strength of his pride.

“A dream, perchance?” Rosé chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, “because that would make two of us.”

The tension left Mik’s body and a spark of confidence took its place. “So, you feel it too,” it was somewhere between a question and an observation, but he didn’t wait for Rosé to clarify. He crawled onto the bed and straddled his lap, his eyes instantly going wide. “It really was the same dream, huh?” he smirked.

Rosé couldn’t even be embarrassed when he met Mik’s eyes, the lust he saw in them erasing any emotion beyond unbridled desire. Logic and reason were gone with the wind and the next thing he knew, his hands were on Mik’s face and he was pulling him into a kiss. It was deep and heated, their tongues swirled together and their hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Very few words were spoken – if they talked, they might start overthinking and psyche themselves out. They were already in too deep, there was no turning back now. It was too fast, fervent, clothes were being tossed aside in every direction. The only time they came up for air was when Mik reached into the end table drawer to grab lube and a condom.

They switched positions, Rosé rolling on top of Mik. He took the bottle of lube and slicked up two fingers, working in one, then another. His eyes were trained on Mik’s face, watching for any expression that he should stop. Instead, he watched his face contort in pleasure and listened to the moans that spilled from his lips.

Mik took the condom that was still on the bed and tore it open with his teeth, then rolled it down Rosé’s length. “This is your last chance to back out,” he warned, though there was a clear, unspoken ‘please don’t’.

“I’m not,” Rosé assured. He had already gotten to this point and god, he was aching to see it through. He carefully eased into him, one hand guiding his length while the other steadied himself by holding onto Mik’s waist. He let out a grunt as he bottomed out, then slowly picked up a steady thrusting pace.

“Fuck…” Mik exhaled in a breathy moan. His hips bucked up, picking up the rhythm of Rosé’s thrusts and writhing in tandem. He didn’t realize just how deeply and intensely his lust for him ran until it culminated in that moment. His fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder blades, blunt nails still leaving indentations.

Even during sex, little was said between them beyond whispers of praise or dirty talk. Their moans and whines were loud and passionate, culminating sharply when they rode out their orgasms in tandem.

Rosé had to catch his breath before he pulled out, rolling the condom off his length and throwing it away. He laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, heavy breathing and wind blowing the only noises remaining.

Mik shifted over to Rosé, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his chest. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “Just… don’t say it.”

And Mik was right, so he didn’t.

——

“You’re looking pretty guilty,” Jan observed as he sat with Rosé during the uber ride back from the airport. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with a certain LA-based season thirteen drag queen?”

“Nope, I didn’t even see Symone.”

Jan crossed his arms and arched his brow. “Come on, Rosie…”

Rosé groaned, getting out of the car and grabbing his luggage from the trunk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted before they walked up and took the elevator into his apartment. It wasn’t until they were alone in his bedroom that he sighed and confessed, “I had sex with Mik.”

Even though Jan suspected as much, hearing his friend make that confession still caught him by surprise. “Oh shit,” he gasped softly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t fucking know!” he ran his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth across his bedroom. “How am I supposed to explain that I ignored the very clear instruction of ‘do not hook up with Mik’? I know being stupid is part of my brand, but this is crossing a line that I don’t know if I can bounce back from if I even deserve it.”

Jan stopped Rosé by grabbing onto his shoulders. “Listen to me, whatever happens, however it turns out, I’m gonna be here for you,” he promised. “I’ve gotta head out now, but I will drop everything in an instant if you need me, okay?” and after they exchanged goodbyes, he was on his way.

Rosé rubbed his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He shook his head, then his heart dropped to his stomach when he heard the front door rattling, then opening. “I’ll be right there, baby!” he called out, then refocused his gaze at his reflection. “You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.”

[olliedollie1204]

everything fits (3/8)- the next day

Single father Patton is utterly devoted to his son Virgil. Recently divorced Logan is utterly devoted to his twin sons Remus and Roman. The pieces come together.

Pairings: Romantic Logicality

Word Count: 4,522

Previous Chapters: 1 2 

woohoo chapter 3! and the last of my ‘mostly pre-written, just needs some final touches’ chapters for this fic lol. this chapter also has the first taglist for this series! if you want to be added to/remove from the taglist, lmk!

(Read it on AO3!)

“And then, Rem, you’ll never believe it— he waved at Logan!” Patton exclaimed, leaning against the counter he was only halfway finished with wiping down.

If anybody else had been his manager, Patton imagined that he would’ve gotten written up for how little work he had done today.

Lucky for him, as the sole founder and proprietor of the Sandman Cafe, Remy Dormer didn’t give a fuck if his best friend since childhood took a break from peddling overpriced coffee to brag about his son.

“No shit?” Remy asked, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared behind his carefully styled bangs. “Didn’t know Lil’ Hart had it in him.”

Patton grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean it, I’d be late to work every single day if it meant I got to see him smile like that.”

“How late were you?”

Patton pursed his lips. “About an hour,” he admitted. “My supervisor wasn’t too happy, but we were short staffed, so she didn’t write me up or anything.”

Remy sighed. “I can’t wait until you get out of that shithole.”

“It’s really not so bad,” Patton defended, although he didn’t really know why he was bothering. “I mean, I pick up some boxes, I put ‘em in a truck. Rinse and repeat!”

Remy still looked unhappy. “At least when you bartend, you get tips. All you get there is back pain and calluses.” As he spoke, he suddenly jumped up from the stool he was perched on, pushing it over to Patton. “Sit down, Pops.”

Patton snorted. “You’re six months older than me,” he protested, but he did take advantage of getting off his feet for a bit.

“Besides, I like doing hands-on work like that,” Patton continued, speaking in truth. “It makes me feel good about myself. Like I’m doing everything I can to provide for my family.”

Remy snorted. “You sound like such a dad.”

“Well, I am one, aren’t I?” Patton replied. Remy raised his hands in defeat.

“No complaints from me. Virgil’s the best kid I know.”

“And how many kids do you know, exactly?”

Remy waved his hand dismissively. “Unimportant. Point is, you bust your ass for your kid, and I love that about you.”

Patton couldn’t help the ‘aw’ that escaped from his lips. “I love you too, Rem!”

Remy smirked back. “Course ya do, babes,” he replied as he moved to count the money in the register. “I’m a delight.”

Patton laughed, settling back comfortably, letting the familiar banter between the old friends fall away into a companionable silence. 

“It really was a wonderful morning,” he murmured.

“And it’s all thanks to that tall, dark stranger, huh?” Remy teased.

Patton was grateful that Remy’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see the shit-eating grin his friend was definitely giving him right now. “Remy—” 

“I mean, Patty, be real: he was cute, right?”

“Remy!” Patton laughed, feeling himself getting flustered. “It— he— it wasn’t—”

Remy threw his head back in laughter, shoulders shaking.

“Calm down, Papa Bear, don’t have a heart attack.”

Patton didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and tried to not embarrass himself further.

“Besides, if he made Virgil smile, I don’t give a shit what he looked like. He’s a hero in my book,” Remy continued with a tone of finality.

Patton shook his head in wonder, thinking back to the little wave Logan gave him right before Virgil ushered them both out of the office. “I swear, I’ve never seen Virgil so happy to talk to a stranger before.”

He paused.

“Not that I encourage my child to talk to strangers!” he stated a little louder, eyes darting around to reassure any eavesdroppers that there was no need to call Child Protective Services.

“Honey, we’re so dead right now, I’m about to call a mortician to see what’s up,” Remy said flippantly, gesturing to the empty tables and chairs in front of him. “Say whatever the hell you want.”

He wasn’t wrong: at the moment there were only a handful of regulars scattered throughout the trendy cafe, but Patton knew enough about working service industry jobs to know not to be naive. The rhythm of customers ebbed and flowed, and at any moment there could be a rush of business that would keep Patton and Remy busy for hours.

Patton leaned backwards slightly to check on his son. Virgil was sitting in the back room with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over his head, his sketch pads and crayons scattered on the table before him. Patton watched as he stuck his tongue out, carefully tracing seemingly random shapes onto the paper with a blue crayon before switching to fill them in with a purple one.

Satisfied, Patton turned back to the conversation.

“And you know, when we finally did make it to his class, he wasn’t even worried about being late anymore,” Patton continued. “I mean, he still didn’t say anything to the other kids, just went straight over to Kai, but he was still smiling by the time I had finished explaining everything to Dr. Picani, so…” 

Patton didn’t miss the way Remy paused in counting the money in the register for just a moment, before returning to the task with a forced air.

“Oh, how is the Doc doing?” he asked casually, not making eye contact with his best friend.

“Pretty good, I think,” Patton replied. “We did talk about his recent trip to Hawaii, I think he said it was his honeymoon—”

Patton jumped as Remy dropped the handful of quarters he had been rolling.

“What?” he asked, looking at Patton with such a look of panic that he couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Remy flushed. “Oh, you— you motherfucker—”

He continued to hurl baseless insults at Patton as the two squatted down to pick up the coins.

“Gotta say, Rem,” Patton teased, relishing in the blush that covered his typically unshakeable friend’s face, “You’ve seemed very invested in the goings on of Dr. Picani lately.”

He shifted backwards to sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor behind the counter, resting his hand on his chin and smirking.

“Is there anything you wanna share with the class?”

Remy scoffed, still picking up the coins one by one.

“I’m just… curious about the guy, okay?” he replied defensively. “I mean, Lord knows we never had a teacher who seemed to give a shit about his students, and this guy… does.”

He faltered for a moment, before blustering on, “Whatever. I don’t even know him. I don’t care what he does.”

Remy stood up, dusting off his pants as he continued sorting the money. Patton looked up at him with an expression of barely-contained amusement.

“... So have you picked out the outfit you’re gonna wear when we see him on Monday?” 

Remy scoffed again. “Of course, I’m not an animal.”

Patton heard the bell above the front door ring, and saw Remy’s eyes shift from the register to the door.

“Can you take this one?�� he asked, looking down at Patton. “I gotta run to the back for some change.”

He turned and walked away before Patton could answer, leaving him to scramble above the counter just as the customer arrived.

“Welcome to the Sandman, what can I get for ya?” Patton asked chipperly, slipping into his customer service voice with a practiced ease as he slid on a pair of rubber gloves.

He looked up just in time to see the customer’s eyes widen in shock at his sudden appearance.

“Wow, how long have you been hiding back there?” he asked, eyeing Patton up and down.

Patton gave a polite laugh. “Just waiting for you to walk in!”

… Okay. That wasn’t great. Patton had meant ‘you’ in a general way, as in ‘a customer that Patton was getting paid to talk to’ kind of way, but from the way the man’s smile spread, Patton couldn’t help but feel there had been a teensy tiny misunderstanding.

“Well, I hope I’m worth the wait,” he replied smoothly. Patton gave him a tightlipped smile.

“What can I get you?”

Thank gosh, the man didn’t push it, ordering a large iced chai latte to go. Patton busied himself with making the drink, his hands shaking just a little bit. He forced them to stop, taking a deep breath before turning around with a smile plastered on his face.

“That’ll be five bucks even,” he stated, sliding the cup across the counter as the man opened his wallet.

He handed Patton a five, then made a show of placing another five in the tip jar.

“Tip, tip, hooray!” Patton cheered lightly. Remy told him that chant was the dorkiest thing he’d ever heard, and under no circumstances was Patton allowed to utter that phrase within the walls of his chic coffee shop. Patton generally ignored him on that one.

He looked away to place the money in the register, but when his gaze rose he saw the man still standing there, sipping the drink while making… slightly uncomfortable eye contact with Patton.

He paused. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The man hummed. “A couple things,” he said, loudly swirling the ice in his drink. “Your name, maybe. And your phone number.”

It didn’t sound like a request. Patton felt himself grimace before he smoothed his expression into something more customer friendly.

“I’d prefer not to give out my personal information to a stranger,” he replied, willing his voice to come out clearly despite the tremble he felt in his throat.

The man shrugged. “If we get to know each other, we won’t be strangers.”

He leaned over the counter, dripping tea onto the surface that Patton had just wiped down.

“So what’s a pretty guy like you doing in a place like this?”

And that set off all sorts of alarm bells in Patton’s head. He couldn’t stop the way his face contorted at the man’s tone, his words, his body language, the way he called him ‘pretty’, like he was some kind of— 

Patton shut that thought down immediately.

“Working, actually,” he snapped instead, watching the man’s smile slide off of his face.

“And if you’ll excuse me,” he continued, voice raised a little bit in an attempt to get Remy’s attention, “I need you to get off the counter.”

The man sneered, opening his mouth again, and Patton tensed— 

“He’s right,” Remy announced, coming out of nowhere to lean over the counter and look the man dead in the face. “We sell drinks, not dates. Maybe go get a personality and you won’t have to drop a fiver just to get someone to talk to you.”

The man glowered back in a weak attempt at intimidation, but the glare Remy was leveling him with was not leaving any room for discussion. He scoffed, standing upright and shooting Patton a dirty look before walking away, slamming the door on his way out and causing every patron in the place to jump.

Remy swiped the dishrag from Patton’s apron pocket, wiping away the drips of tea like they personally offended him.

“Fuckin’... I hate assholes like that,” he muttered, not looking at Patton. Patton watched him clench and unclench his jaw for a moment.

“Rem,” Patton said softly, “I’m okay.” He placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, who leaned into the touch subconsciously.

“Daddy? Remy?”

The two turned to the small voice coming from the back room. Virgil’s head was just barely visible peeking out from behind the door frame, his hood pulled so far over his head he had to lean backwards to see the two men from underneath it.

Patton’s face broke into a genuine smile at the cute sight before he even realized it. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“Um, um, I, um—” Virgil started, twisting his body a little as he stared nervously out into the cafe. He fell silent, gnawing on his lower lip, and looked at Patton with worried eyes.

“Go help your stormcloud, Daddy,” Remy said with his usual flippancy, reaching a hand to Patton’s on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly. “I’ll man the counter.”

Patton squeezed his shoulder in return, and quickly moved to the back room. Upon confirming that Patton was coming to join him, Virgil took a few shuffling steps forward and held his arms out to be picked up.

“Upsy daisy!” Patton said as he reached his son, hoisting Virgil onto his hip as he took them both into the break room. He moved to put Virgil down on the small couch they kept in the back for emergency naps, but Virgil gripped Patton’s shirtsleeves tight and wordlessly shook his head.

“Oh, you want snuggles, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil hesitated for a few moments before nodding, burying his head into the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Alrighty then,” Patton said, gingerly sitting on the couch without disrupting his son’s position against his chest. One hand rubbed Virgil’s back slowly yet firmly, while the other pulled down Virgil’s hood to toy with his hair.

“Vibe check, kiddo?”

He felt Virgil breath deeply against his shoulder.

“I, um, I, um— he, he was mean,” Virgil said, his voice muffled through the fabric.

Patton froze, then deflated a little. “You saw me talking to that man, huh, stormcloud?”

Virgil nodded. “He was not nice,” he emphasized. Patton smiled a little.

“I don’t know what kind of person he is, but you’re right. The way he was acting just now was not very nice.”

Patton figured the guy was just as much of a douche in the rest of his life as he was a few minutes ago, but it was important for Virgil to know the difference between ‘doing something bad’ and ‘being a bad person’.

“Well, don’t worry,” he continued, making his voice sound confident. “Remy told him to run away and never, ever come back.”

Virgil pulled back to look up at Patton. “Not even for a hundred years?”

Patton grinned. “Not even for a hundred, hundred years.”

Virgil gasped, eyes widening as he tried to picture a number that big.

“Not even, not even for a hundred, hundred, hundred years?” he asked, jaw dropped.

“Not even for a hundred, hundred, hundred, hundred—” Patton leaned his face closer to Virgil’s, pressing their foreheads together as he finished, “—hundred years!”

The two burst into giggles, Virgil wiggling at the feeling of Patton leaning his head on his. “Daddy!”

Patton laughed, pulling his head back and letting Virgil lean back against his chest.

“Two minutes or five?”

Virgil chewed on his lip as he thought. “Five, please, thank you.”

Patton nodded. “Five minute snuggles, it is.”

As he leaned back into the couch, Patton thought back to the rude customer.

He was attractive, Patton supposed, but his personality was an obvious deal breaker. And if Virgil could tell he was mean without even talking to him? Oh, there was no question in Patton’s mind that he did the right thing by turning him down.

Still, he sighed, curling his arms tighter around his son.

He wasn’t… opposed to the idea of dating. Despite the struggles of his day-to-day life, he was generally happy. He had so much to be happy about! Virgil, and Remy, and his jobs, and the fact that he had come so much farther than he’d ever thought he could. His life wasn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He just wished he had someone to share that life with. Romantically.

Over the sound of his troubled thoughts, he heard Virgil inhale deeply, shoving his head into his chest and rubbing his little cheek against the fabric of his shirt. Patton grinned, reaching up to brush some of Virgil’s hair back behind his ear.

“Love you, kiddo,” he murmured. Virgil made a muffled sound into his chest that Patton knew was his son returning the sentiment.

He sighed a little, rubbing Virgil’s back in soothing circles. Virgil was his number one, his little stormcloud. As long as he knew Virgil was happy, healthy, and safe, that’s all Patton needed to worry about. Save the dating for later. Hopefully.

~

“... And out of nowhere, he looked me right in the face and said, ‘Larry, I just can’t with you right now!’”

The jovial man could barely get the words out before breaking into loud laughter. “Logan, when I tell you I almost peed my pants—”

“I’ll have another talk with Remus about referring to his teachers by their last names only,” Logan stated, skimming the pamphlet they had gotten at the meeting.

“Only because I don’t want everyone to start doing it,” Larry replied with what seemed like genuine regret. “Don’t punish the kid for being a comedic genius.”

A banging at the door of the classroom made the two men jump.

“Sorry!” called Dot, entering with two bags of takeout in her arms. “The darn bags are slipping, so unless you guys want to eat your dinner off the floor—”

Larry was already rushing to help his wife. Emile followed her into the classroom, carrying a bottle of Coke and a pack of red solo cups.

“We’re borrowing these from the teacher’s lounge,” he chirped, placing them on the table where Dot and Larry deposited the food.

Larry raised an eyebrow. “Wow, a whole two liter? Emile, you criminal!”

Emile shrugged, smiling innocently as he poured each of them a cup. “What? I didn’t steal anything; they were in the teacher’s lounge, and we’re teachers, so technically—” 

“Technically, we’re trespassing,” Logan interjected as he began sorting through and passing out the food. “Even though Dot has the key to her classroom, the school itself is private property, and therefore should we be caught here after hours by law enforcement, there would most likely be legal repercussions—”

“Fuck cops!” Larry cut Logan off, raising his solo cup in the air with a defiant attitude.

“Fuck cops!” Dot and Emile echoed, the three of them tapping their cups of wine together before downing them like they were doing tequila shots at a college party.

Logan smiled. “I'm glad we're all teaching our children the important lessons.”

“Speaking of teaching children…” Emile said as the four began to dig into their food with gusto, “who’s ready for the meet and greet on Monday?”

His chipper tone of voice was met with three groans, causing his jaw to drop. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!”

“I just don’t get why they had to schedule the seminar and the meet and greet on the same darn week!” Dot replied. Larry nodded in agreement.

“And like, what do they even want us to say? It’s only been a couple weeks— I’ve barely gotten to know some of my students!”

“It’s merely the school encouraging us to form more personal connections with the students’ families, in order to ensure more funding from their respective donations,” Logan replied without thinking, much more focused on his burger than the conversation.

“No kidding,” Emile said, scowling at his burrito like it personally offended him. “I just wish we could really get to know our students, and their families, too.”

Visions of a man in a blue polo shirt flashed through Logan’s mind.

“Itinerary check for Monday,” he announced suddenly, flipping open his notebook and turning to the proper page despite his friends’ groans. “The doors to the auditorium open at five. At six, the principal gives the welcome speech and PTA information about the upcoming year, and given how they tend to ramble—”

“More like they just love the sound of their own voice,” Dot muttered.

“We should be ready to begin speed meetings by seven,” Logan finished. “Dot, you’ll have about eight minutes to talk to the guardians of each student. Larry, five, and Emile, unfortunately it looks like you’re down to three and a half minutes per student.”

He pulled out the spreadsheet he had made the night before, sliding it across the table with the math he’d done to get those calculations.

Larry snorted. “Wow, someone had a lot of free time on their hands.”

Logan felt his chest tighten just slightly, but he pushed past it to finish, “If this all goes according to plan, we should be packing up our tables by eight at the latest. Then Emile will be home in time to feed his cats, Dot and Larry will be home in time for The Bachelor, and—”

“And you’ll be home with plenty of time to spare before the good night call,” Emile finished. He smiled softly and reached over to pat Logan’s hand in appreciation. “I’ll help you pack your table when we inevitably aren’t out of there by eight.”

Logan bristled. “Well, that won’t be necessary, since we will be out of there by eight. My timeline clearly shows—”

“Has your timeline factored the amount of chatty PTA parents, shy or stubborn students, and overall incompetence of our administration?” Larry asked blithely, grinning when he made Dot snort behind her solo cup.

Logan’s mouth opened and shut for a moment before he looked back at his spreadsheet.

“It’s not my fault I prioritize punctuality,” he grumbled slightly. Emile laughed, reaching over again to jostle Logan’s arm, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling along.

Dot pulled the spreadsheet closer, peering at it over her glasses. “Wow, you really put a lot of thought into this, L. You think we can really get the whole gym set up in less than twenty minutes?

Logan shrugged. “We’re a highly competent bunch. Not to mention the PTA volunteers will be there to assist.”

“You know, it’s really nice to know there are people who would come in on their day off to put out hundreds of folding chairs before sitting through an hour long assembly,” Larry said. Dot nodded, chewing vigorously and pointing at Larry.

“And the decorations!” she added after swallowing. “I mean, gosh, the streamers, the banners, the snack table—”

At the mention of the snack table, Emile made an appreciative noise. “Oh my goodness, do you remember that babka someone brought in for the last assembly? With the cinnamon?”

Both Larry and Dot nodded enthusiastically. Logan didn’t remember it; he didn’t usually go for the complimentary food brought in by the parent volunteers. He shrugged, eyes back on his food as the others continued to talk.

“Gosh, that was good,” Emile continued. “I want that recipe so bad! Do we remember who brought it in?”

“Hm, not sure. Dee, wasn’t it a kid from your class? That’s why we got first dibs on it.”

“Oh, yeah… was it Virgil?”

Logan froze.

“Yes!” Emile said, snapping and nodding. “Yes, it was Virgil’s daddy— oh gosh, what’s his name…” 

“Patton?” The word slipped out before Logan had even fully processed what he was saying.

The other three looked at him.

“Yes, that’s it,” Dot replied in surprise. “Patton Hart. How did you know that?”

“We met yesterday morning,” Logan replied, eyes on his food again. “I gave him access to the building, and we had a conversation. He was exceedingly pleasant—” 

“Oh!” Emile cut off Logan with a gasp as he whirled on Dot. “Oh, Dot, I can’t believe I forgot— Virgil really came out of his shell yesterday!”

Dot perked up, sitting forward; Logan assumed she must have been Virgil’s teacher the year before. “Really?”

He nodded quickly. “Oh my God, Dot, you should’ve seen it. I mean, Virgil was glowing when he came in!” Emile waved his hands wildly, his excitement for his student shining out of him. “And you’ll never believe this— we were making things out of clay at art time, and when I asked if anyone wanted to talk about their work, he raised his hand!”

Dot gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Are you kidding me?” She turned to her husband, batting at his chest. “Larry!”

“Ow, ow, ow, I heard! I heard!” he responded, grabbing for his wife’s hands to stop her from attacking him out of joy.

Emile sat back in his chair. “And Patton, I guess they’d been running late that morning, but he told me Virgil had… gotten a compliment on his hoodie…”

His eyes widened slightly as he shifted to look at Logan; Dot and Larry followed his gaze.

“Wait,” Emile said, voice full of surprise but no less joy, “was that you?”

Logan felt a strange shyness; he shrugged, replying, “I told him I liked his hoodie, yes. I didn’t realize it would have such an impact.”

“How is that even possible?” Dot added. “I mean, he’s the sweetest little thing, but I don’t think he said five words the entire time he was in my class. All he wanted to do was sit at his table all day and draw," she finished, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to the wall of art from her current and past students.

He followed Dot’s gesture to one picture in particular: two stick figures, one short and one tall, holding hands. It was surprisingly well drawn for a kindergarten art project, and although the handwriting was not as clear, he could tell that the large block letters across the page read ‘I Love You Daddy— Love, Virgil'

"Aw," Logan said, feeling himself soften at the evident care Virgil had put into the card. However, another look at the wall the drawing was stuck on revealed a significant difference in Virgil’s card: where his was clearly for his father, every single other card on the wall specifically included the words ‘Happy Mothers’ Day’.

Dot seemed to follow his train of thought just as quickly as he had it, and when he turned to her with a questioning glance she gave him a somewhat sad smile. 

“Virgil’s mother is… no longer in the picture,” Dot finished slowly. “I don’t know all the details—” 

“That’s quite alright,” Logan interjected quickly. The memory of his brief interaction with the Harts was still fresh in his mind, and now he was faced with the prospect of seeing them, seeing Patton, again. The thought filled him with— something. Something good. So he would prefer to not learn the more private details of Patton’s life through second-hand sources.

… Well. There was… one specific detail Logan was, admittedly, curious to know.

“Is there another adult figure in Virgil’s life?” he asked casually. “Patton’s girlfriend, maybe, or— or boyfriend…”

A beat, and then the other three broke into laughter.

“No, boyfriend is definitely right,” Dot eventually answered, giving Logan a knowing smile.

Logan flushed. “Ah, yes. I had… suspected, as much.”

Emile giggled. “I forgot your gaydar is permanently broken, Logan.”

“I’ve only ever had one partner before!” Logan defended, his face growing hotter.

“Same with me and Dot, but our bifi works just fine,” Larry replied smugly. Dot held out her hand and the two high fived without looking at each other.

Logan sighed, collecting his trash from his food and pushing back his chair. “You’re all bullies.”

~

Taglist:

@patton-cake, @irritating-lady-knight, @i-cant-find-a-good-username