#sigh. the bar for my art is in hell now. oh no.

[flourishingflorae]

og post for 2nd image: https://www.tumblr.com/lilac-rose-writes/749681368418713601/opposites-attract-things-i-initially-missed?source=share . thank you lilac-the-book-lover.

idk

[seancekitsch]

Hazbin Hotel—Lucifer x Reader where he’s a love struck fool for reader? May or may not be inspired by that little imagine you posted not too long ago \(//∇//)\

uhhh this kinda got away from me. enjoy!!

You’d have to be a fool not to notice how the King of Hell acts around you, even Angel and Husk told you that. But you’re not blinded to situation, you know exactly what’s going on. You rest your elbow on the bar next to Angel as Charlie gathers the hotel residents and staff, a job not unlike herding cats. Everyone trickles in slowly, waiting for the next odd trust bond activity Charlie has come up with now. Last week was heartfelt letter writing, and the three of you at the bar had not taken it seriously. You handed Husk a comedic inner monologue about how much you needed to pee, Husk handed Angel a surprisingly detailed made up story about a talking whisky bottle, and Angel handed you a list of what roles he’d cast the entire hotel in a porno.

“What do you think they’ll have us do this time?” Husk mumbles to you, topping off your drink.

“Honestly, not a fan of the way Princess is smiling right now,” you answer.

Charlie waves everyone over, and Vaggie smiles uncomfortably, ready for everyone to start.

“Okay Good Afternoon,” Charlie starts, practically bouncing, “Today we’re going to try to form new bonds!”

Immediately, she’s met with groaning and mumbling, but thats never stopped her and it won’t today either.

“So what better way to do that then having a buddy for the next twenty four hours!” She shouts, and Vaggie’s face immediately makes sense.

“I’ve separated everyone from their regular group so they can build these bonds and be open!”

“…got something you could open…” you hear Angel mumble under his breath.

Charlie gives her dad a thumbs up.

“The first pairing is… my dad and Y/n!”

The Morningstar family sucks at being subtle or lying.

“So what did you have planned for the day?” Lucifer asks while sitting beside you, his voice short and clipped, his entire demeanor like he’s on high alert. It’s cute, really.

“Ah don’t worry about it,” you shrug, “What does the areat King of Hell do with his day?”

Lucifer rubs his neck, fidgeting under your question.

“It’s not… Its not actually all that interesting,” he admits, “You’ve probably got something cooler going on.”

There’s something he’s avoiding besides your gaze, but you don’t press the issue.

You look across the lobby to Angel, who pauses his conversation with Vaggie to mouth something that looked like the word “fart” to you, and then wink.

Your art gallery. Right.

“Have you ever been to Pentagram City’s biggest art gallery?” you ask him.

Lucifer is a gentleman. You understand how he stole the first man’s first two wives from him. Sure, he’s stumbling and stuttering and a nervous wreck, but he’s holding doors open for you and asking about your thoughts and feelings about the pieces on display, he’s accidentally on purpose almost held your hand three times now. Next time he does it, you’re just going to grab his damn hand.

You stare at the sculpture in front of you, noting that you should have someone move this to a different room. In fact, there’s a few things you’ve noticed while showing Lucifer the art that you should have moved around. Maybe you’ve been neglecting the gallery a bit more than you thought now that you live at the hotel.

“Hey, Can I ask you about these?” Lucifer’s voice booms from the next room over. Sighing, you type a quick note into your V-Phone and turn.

Oh shit.

Lucifer found THAT room.

You cross the threshold into the room you never go into, the room with your own work. Honestly, it’s not even curated the way the other rooms and floors are. This is where you put anything that you think can leave your studio. He’s in front of one of your biggest paintings, and one of your newest. It’s an abstract piece about your feelings about redemption, about your past sins, about adjusting to the hotel. Which it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but it made sense in the moment and you’re proud of it.

He turns and smiles before looking back at the painting.

“Is the uh, is the artist willing to sell this piece?” he asks, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red.

Now it’s your turn to get nervous. You’ve never actually sold any of your own pieces before.

“I uh- I’m not gonna sell it to you,” you tell him, “You can have it.”

It would be weird to take money from Lucifer, even if he is offering. You like him a decent amount and a transaction between the two of you would make it weird. It would feel like you owe him, even though your art would technically satisfy that. If he was one of the Vees or someone you dislike, you would have immediately taken money.

“But the artist-“

“Me,” you clarify, and you finally remember you don’t tag your own art. Lucifer’s jaw drops at your admission.

“I’d really like to support your work, it’s magnificent,” Lucifer insists, and you feel your cheeks burning. He turns to gesture to another piece, and his knuckles brush your own.

Fuck it. You told yourself you’d do it. You grab Lucifer’s hand in your own, a bold move.

“Just think about it as a gift,” you tell him, “A thank you for the lovely day we’ve had.”

You inwardly cringe, knowing that when you recount today at the lobby bar your drinking buddies are going to tear you a new one for that corny line. But it fits for Lucifer; he’s bringing out a side of you that you really haven’t seen in a while.

“Thank you uh, gorgeous,” he tacks on the pet name like even he isn’t sure about it, and with his hand still in yours, attempts to lean against a sculpture, stumbling as he misses it and bringing you along with him. He tugs you by the arm, jerking you closer to him. He’s majorly out of practice.

“I have a studio upstairs if you want to see more?” you offer, not really sure if you thought that through.

“More art? Absolutely!” He recovers quickly, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

You smile as you pull him towards the hallway, butterflies in your stomach as it dawns on you that he’s going to be the only person besides you to see the studio.

You and Lucifer end up staying there until Charlie calls him the next morning.

You notice paint on his chin after you get back to the hotel.

[arc-misadventures]

An Offer You Won’t Refuse

Jaune: Why can’t you guys believe me when I say I got laid?

SN: Because it’s you.

Jaune: Haaaa… Assholes.

The person complaining that his roommates couldn’t believe he had sex was one, Jaune Luna Arc. A first year college student majoring in business. While his collage roommate’s doubting the fact that he had sex were a blonde hair monkey faunas named, Sun Wukong, and their friend the blue haired self proclaimed ‘ladies man’ named, Neptune Vasilias.

The duo had dragged, Jaune to a bar with the intent of, ‘picking up some ladies.’ And, where he had actually managed to score a night with a beautiful lady, they had failed to get anything. And, because of this they doubted that he got anything. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it…

Jaune: You guys are just jealous I spent a night with a lady, while the only thing you guys got was a pair of matching black eyes.

Jaune’s remark was a very accurate statement of fact that after he come from an enjoyable one-night stand he came back to see the pair with ice packs over their eyes.

Sun: Not true!

Neptune: I would have totally banged that chick! If her boyfriend didn’t arrive…

Jaune: Yeah, that’s why you didn’t get any.

Neptune: Hey man, you just don’t understand the art, of seduction~!

Jaune: The what?

Sun: The art of seducing a woman~!

Jaune: And, that is?

Neptune: We’re falcons pal…

Sun: Falcons~!

Neptune: You can’t just send us out when a pretty girls is there, and expect us to capture her now can you?

Sun: That’s not how we falcons fly.

Neptune: We gotta fly high, and scope out the prey, and when we find our mark we’ll swoop in for the kill. We just can’t go in, and steal the girl on command now can we?

Sun: It’s an art, Jaune. You wouldn’t understand it.

Jaune just looked at the duo as he was forced to comprehend the dumbest thing he had yet heard, and considering the people who he hung around that was something.

Jaune: What the hell are you two talking about?! Yes you can send a falcon out on command to hunt its prey! There’s an entire sport based around it: Falconry!

Sun: Eh?

Neptune: Beg pardon?

Jaune: It’s like one of the oldests sports out there! People are still doing it to this day! Hell, people have been using falcons, and hawks to take down drones!

Neptune: That’s not true… right?

Sun: Oh shit, they actually use hawks to take down drones.

Neptune: Wait really?!

Jaune: Haa… if hitting on girls was like hitting the broadside of a barn, you lot couldn’t hit it with a, Javelin missile.

Sun: I couldn’t do that!

Neptune: Guns scare me!

Jaune dropped his head as he sighed at the duo’s stupidity, or more accurately their ignorance.

Although stupidity is a more adept description the pair. The duo would offer a drowning man a drink thinking he’s not drowning, just really thirsty.

Jaune: A Javelin missile is an rpg with an auto-lock feature. Not a gun.

Neptune: There’s a difference?

Jaune: Haa… you see this is why I don’t invite you to play, Arma with my clan.

Neptune: Well we may not know the difference between… weapons…? But, that still doesn’t mean you had sex with a girl.

Jaune: Guys, it’s been two weeks since we went to the bar, can we just drop it, and move…

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Jaune: On…?

Jaune stopped talking in his tracks as he heard a knocking upon the door. He looked at the pair while pointing his finger at the door.

Jaune: We’re you…?

The pair shook their heads, and shrugged their shoulders. They weren’t expecting anyone to come visit them. Like anyone would anyway.

Jaune just shrugged his shoulders as he walked over, and opened the door, he was met with several individuals dressed in black suits with tinted shades hiding their face. The quartet seemed to be watching around them to see if anyone was coming.

Jaune was worried they were a hit squad coming to make get their mark. He could only cower as he wondered whose girl, Neptune pissed off that they would put a mark on him. But, that thought swiftly died as he started at the woman between what actually were four bodyguards. For it was not someone he expected to meet again. He never thought she would grace his presence with her beauty ever again.

With flowing ashen white hair cascading down her elegant shoulders. Draped in a tapestry of fine jewelry of silver, sapphires, and ruby’s. A red gown that displayed a fair amount of her sizeable cleavage, as a dark coat hung lazily off her shoulders. But, what drew, Jaune in the most were those red tinted glasses, that hid a pair of striking vibrant red eyes that he lost himself in.

It was the lady from his one night stand. A woman, Jaune would never forget until death took him.

Jaune: S-Salem?!

Salem: Hello, Ar… no. Hello, Jaune. You’re looking well.

Jaune: Thank you! Y-You’re looking fantastic. But, uhh… why are you here? You said after our… night together that it would be just a one time thing, and we would never see each other again. And, yet here you are.

Salem: And, yet here I am…

Jaune could barely see, Salem’s eyes because they blended beautifully with her glasses, but he could tell by the way her body was seemingly twitching that she was nervous. He was about to ask her whats wrong, but then his roommates happened.

Sun: Holy hell?! You actually had sex?!

Neptune: Damnmmm! She is smoking hot! How much did she cost you? Eh, eh?!

Salem could tell by his teasing manner upon which the blue boy spoke he was joking with, Jaune. But, to insinuate that she was a call girl?! Maybe she should let her associates teach this child some manners.

But before, Salem could give the command, Jaune held a single finger up, silently asking for a moment before shutting the door. She was wondering what was going on, but then she heard a loud thud as if something had fallen over. As the door soon reopened to reveal the smiling face of, Jaune Arc. She could see behind him the form of the blue haired boy, groaning in pain as he clutched his groin.

Salem shot, Jaune a small smile from the corner of her lips, and he just waved it off as if it was nothing.

Jaune: So… What bring you to our humble abode?

Salem: I need to discuss something with you of the utmost importance.

Jaune: Okay, what is it?

Salem’s eyes darted around as if she was trying to find the words to speak before she returned his gaze.

Salem: This would be a discussion best help in private.

Jaune nodded his head as he told his friends to scram. The blond monkey nodded his head as he pulled his friend, who was in the fetal position whilst still clutching his privates on the floor out the room. As soon as they were out of the room, Jaune stood aside allowing, Salem to enter his dorm room.

Salem: Thank you for allowing me… in…?

Salem’s thought process stopped in its tracks rather abruptly. She was going to tell him something important, but as she took in the absolute state of, Jaune’s apartment her mind did a reset, and was the midst of a reboot as she processed this, ‘mess.’

Jaune was about to ask her if something was wrong, then he saw where her eyes were going, and he sighed in understanding.

Jaune: Yeah its a…

Salem: A pig sty?

Jaune: That’s an… apt description.

Jaune’s apartment was an absolute mess: Wrappers, and empty bottles strewn across the place. Half finished take out boxes laying across every table in sight. Clothes from teeshirts to underwear draped all over the furniture. But, there was one thing that was most damning of all that was the crown jewel of this pig sty.

Salem: I-Is that a banana peel on the lamp shade?

Jaune: Haa… Gods dammit, Sun…

Jaune looked over, and groaned in disgust as he grabbed a bucket, seemingly filled to the brim with banana peels, and tossed the latest addition into the bucket.

Jaune: Sun, uhh… the blond monkey faunas you saw earlier. His family are all monkey faunas’s so the have a habit of eating a banana, and tossing the peal away when they’re finished.

Salem: Not into the trash I assume?

Jaune: Unfortunately not. I’ve told him to stop doing that, but he won’t listen to me. So, I’ve been collecting his banana peels for the past two weeks, and I plan to stuff them in his pillow case as form of petty vengeance.

Salem: Do you think that will work?

Jaune: Well, they stink so they should send a message of sorts. If not I’ll tie his tail to the bed frame, or something.

Salem: You would do that to a faunas; That seems rather cruel don’t you think?

Jaune: I have slipped on several banana peels, and landed hard on my back, I will make sure he learns through pain that I am very vindictive bastard.

Salem: And, is the rest of this mess from that blue haired boy?

Jaune: Neptune? Ehh no. It’s from both of them, they’re total slobs. I was about to threaten them with bodily harm if they didn’t clean up the place. But, they started going on again that I totally didn’t have sex with a woman who had the body of an angel carved from the finest of marble slabs, craved painstakingly by a superb master craftsman.

Salem: Why thank you~! You would make a handsome marble statue yourself, Jaune.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Ahck?! I-I-I’m sorry?! I didn’t want to tell them anything about you, but they wouldn’t believe me, so I had to say something?! N-Not a lie, you are gorgeous! Divine even… But… Uhh… It’s a little hot in here…? Perhaps I s-should open a window…

Jaune made way for a window, but was stopped in his tracks as he heard, Salem’s melody of laughter. During the time they spent at the bar talking, he spent every moment trying to get a laugh out of her. Her laughter was angelic, and her smile divine. One he spent the whole night trying to make appear before his very eyes.

Salem had told him the sad story of her life, and her past love. It was a story of sorrow, regret, and betrayal. A love that was, a life that could have been, and the truth to a lie that ruined it all.

She didn’t tell him every detail, it was her right to have her secrets. Jaune didn’t want to know everything either, they were just two strangers sitting alone at a bar. One musing over her drink, the other musing over time. He was just there to be the ear who heard her complaining, the voice to ask the question she wanted asked, and the shoulder to cry over.

Afterwards, Salem asked if, Jaune could give her a ride home. She hadn’t drunk a lot, but even a little alcohol mixed with driving a car could be fatal. And, being the gentleman he tried to be, he accepted her request for aid.

He took her home, and he would have left things at that. But, she insisted that he come in, he remembered her giving him a vague excuse of why he should stay, but he never remembered it. What made him stay was the pleading look in her eyes that beg that she didn’t want to be alone. So he stayed, and one thing lead to another, and he awoke in her bed with her resting softly against him.

It was a moment of weakness, and desire of the flesh. One that they both knew that shouldn’t have happened. But, it was one neither would deny they regretted. After that they agreed to part ways, they would never regret this moment of fleeting love shared between them. But, it was a one time deal, and they would never see each other again.

And yet, Salem was here, right now, right before, Jaune’s very eyes.

Jaune: Why don’t we go to my room? I can assure you it doesn’t look like a bomb went off at a dump.

Jaune opened the door to his room, and ushered, Salem inside his room. Salem was hesitant to enter his room, because it was his, but he assured her it wasn’t like the pigsty she was currently standing in, so she walked in. And, what surprised her ahead l was that, Jaune, once again, he was true to his word.

While the description of, ‘a bomb that went off at a dump,’ was an adept description of their living room, Jaune’s room was a complete contrast to that.

His bed was made, his clothes hanged on their hooks, his floor was vacuumed, and his books neatly arrange along the book case. Even the little figurines he had were neatly in their display cases. The only mess there was upon his desk where an assortment of art supplied, and school books lay strewn about. And, if anything, it would be considered an organized mess at best.

Jaune: Would you like a seat?

Jaune pushed, his charge towards her, and graciously offered her a seat. Salem looked towards the chair, and simply shook her head at his kind offer.

Salem: No, no thank you. But, perhaps you should take a seat.

Jaune: Why, is something wrong, Salem?

Salem: Over a week after our night together, I went in for a medical check up. Standard routine check up for me, I usually have one every three months, or so.

Jaune: That’s a good routine to have. I probably should get a check up myself, it’s been a while since I last saw a doctor.

Salem: Yes… while I was having my check up… They discovered something rather… unexpected…

Jaune: You’re dying?!

Jaune didn’t understand why someone he had a fling with was coming here to tell him that. Unless, was it his fault she was dying?

Jaune was about to start having a panic attack, when, Salem rushed forward, and spoke softly as she tried to calm his nerves.

Salem: Nononono… It’s nothing like that. Quite the opposite really.

Jaune: What’s the opposite of dying? Reincarnation?

Salem laughed as she shook her head, taking off her glasses, and gently placing them on his desk.

Salem: I forgot how much of an adorable goofball you are.

Jaune: Thank you?

Salem: Jaune… let me put this to you bluntly.

Jaune: Okay?

Salem straightened her back, and started, Jaune dead in the eye. Crimson, and cerulean locked in a bitter struggle, neither wanting to look away from the beauty before their eyes.

What felt like an eternity, but merely lasted a few seconds, Salem took a deep breath, and told, Jaune the reasons she was here. A reason that filled her with equal parts dread, and hope. So, with those blood red eyes, she stared at the young man, and spoke words with a voice of steel that completely enthralled him to ever word that dropped from her luscious red lips.

Salem: Jaune… You better take responsibility, or else…

Jaune: …

Jaune: Eh…?

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?” 

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass. 

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish. 

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin. 

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap. 

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was  enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries. 

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you. 

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable. 

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it. 

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile. 

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators. 

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted. 

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself. 

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator. 

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

[aviradasa]

Drunk Dancin

Elliott (Sdv) X reader

(art from Pinterest)

This was so fun to write I hope you all enjoy! I got kinda lazy towards the end Sorry it's been awhile sense I've had inspo so this might be bad. Also I didn't proof read this shit🤣🖤

Masterlist

It had been a rough day on the farm, the crops were dying due to the change in season, the animals were grumpy even though they had plenty to eat and space to wander, And then to top it off the mines nearly killed me, and now I grumpily stumble to the stardrop saloon.

It's a busy night for the tiny bar. Friday nights are always like that, groups and sad lonely souls gather there to drink, sing, and stumble out sometime past midnight every Friday without fail.

As I make my way inside I see it's still relatively quiet. I walk up to the bar nodding my head to Pam who sits at her usual corner.

“Hey kid you're looking rough, what happened this time?” she asks, turning her head to me with a slight chuckle as she takes a sip of her beer. I look at her with a sigh as I slump over the bar lazily grabbing my drink and sliding it closer to me. “Oh, you know the same old shit. Crops are assholes, and my animals and the creatures in the mines want me dead.” I say lifting my cup to my lips and downing half of my drink before lowering my glass. “It’s been fun,” I say giving her a sarcastic smile.

“Jesus kid you outta slow down there wont be any good tomorrow if you're sloshed,” she says with a grin. I look at her with a raised eyebrow before I can respond. She laughs. “I’m just kidding, the best cure for a shitty day is a drink. If I had any extra cash I would buy you one outta pity but well I'm kinda runnin’ a little short for my tab as is so.. Don’t tell Gus,” she tells me with a wink, I let out a little chuckle. “ Your secrets are safe with me,” I tell her before downing the rest of my drink and calling Gus over for another, which he gladly sells me before I get up from the bar and wander to a table neatly nested in the corner. I sit down and after a few minutes, I see my good friend Leah wander into the saloon collecting her drink from the bar. She wandered to the table next to me. “ well hey their Y/n what are you up to tonight.”She asks as she pulls out her seat to sit down.

I look up at her with a grin holding up my drink. “Girl I’m drinking in hopes I don't wake up tomorrow sober!” I tell her as we both laugh. “ Jeez Y/n what the hell did you do now, don't you tell me you passed out in those mines again!” she jokes with a grin on her face as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Hey now I didn't pass out, but I got too damn close to those rock crabs are the devil.'' I shake my head as I chuckle. “ They keep sneaking up on me and by the time I see one of those things there are 3 more behind me.” I say Leah just laughs “Sounds like you need to buy some armor or something if you gonna keep going down there-” she starts to say before a new voice unintentionally cuts her off.

“Good evening Leah,y/n how are you both tonight?” the person says, looking towards the voice we see Elliott. I was starting to wonder where he was normally earlier. “ hey El where were you? You're a bit later than usual.” I ask the redhead. He just chuckles and takes a seat in between the two tables. “Well, you know how I was having a dry spell of inspiration? Well, I don't know What hit me but today I was able to get 3 chapters done in my novel! I was so caught up in it that I didn't even realize the whole day had run away from me. I feel so alive at the moment!” he tells us excitedly. For the past week, Elliott has been talking about how he had no clue what to write in this book of his, it was kind of sad to see him so upset, but now he's happy and inspired again! Don't get me wrong is amazing, I'm happy for him and even happier that he's so much more enthusiastic and optimistic now, but I just wish he was like this 3 days ago. Because now his joy is feeling a bit suffocating. Or maybe that's just because of my shitty day.

Even so, I sit there and listen to him excitedly explaining some plot twist he wanted to add to a future chapter.

As he speaks I can't help but tune into the music playing from the jukebox. It's decently loud but not enough to give you a headache and the songs playing are mostly from the 70’s and 80's. I guess Gus has decent musical taste! Who knew?

About an hour has passed and our little trio has had our fair share of drinks. We sit there joking around for a little longer before Leah thinks it might be a good idea to pull Elliott and me up to dance. “Leah I don’t know how fuckin to dance??” I slur as she pulls me up. She groans “Come on don't be lame let all just dance! I bet you can do it! Elliott, don't you think they can do it too??” she asks him. Elliott being a little less than drunk more on the tipsy side just laughs.

“ You know I think they can! Go on, go dance, you can do it,” he says, giving me a slight push. Without thinking I grab onto his hand and spin around to face him. “You know what! I’ll go if you come with us.”

Telling him to come with us was the worst thing to say ever.

Cause he was an amazing dancer with a couple of drinks under his belt. And he looked divine doing it. His red suit jacket had been long forgotten on the back of his chair, his long red hair was put up messily in a bun and he was dancing like he should have been on a stage.

He swayed and spun, stumbled once or twice, and laughed with us when we pointed it out to him. It was a beautiful thing to witness, but he didn't take my focus away completely, as Leah and I had been spinning around together, jumping up and down bobbing our heads to the beat as we stumbled and laughed.

As we dance my head starts to spin, dizziness overcoming every aspect of my mind and vision almost knocking me down. But as I stumble, a hand grabs my wrist from behind and spins me around full circle. As I nearly fall forward the person's other hand finds its way to my waist pulling me towards them, my back hits their chest and I hear a laugh. “I can see you've been having fun, you should be more careful, you just never know who you'll stumble into.”

Recognizing the voice, a dopey grin creeps onto my face as I turn my head to look at the culprit.

And just as I guessed it was Elliott standing behind me with an oddly placed smirk on his face. Seeing him sobers me up a little bit in the best way possible.

“ Well now you're the one who grabbed me, I could have stumbled my way into anyone I like. you just happened to be quick about it.” I said with a giggle as I spun around one more to the beat of the song playing. Now facing him as we move around the dancefloor.

“Yes, well. Ah, what can I say i can't think of a good excuse at the moment. I’ve wanted to dance with you for quite some time, And when I saw you had wandered out of Leah's grasp well. I suppose you can call me somewhat of an opportunist.” he says as we both let out a laugh

“ Well, I can’t say I'm complaining that you took that opportunity.” I wink “Nothing against Leah she's quite a good dancer.”

“Better than me?” Elliott says with a joking tone. “Definitely,” I responded with a grin. He places a dramatic hand on his chest as he tries to flip his hair forgetting it's put up at the moment “I’m hurt, I thought I was better than that.” he jokes. A small chuckle escapes me at the gesture before the night goes on and blurs together, not in the sense that I don't remember more like that of a watercolor painting when the colors bleed into one another as we had dancing in a wave of color that turns into something else entirely.

The door of the saloon swung open as we exited, we were one of the last few folks leaving. Leah had left about an hour prior leaving us to our fun, not without saying goodbye first. Waving goodnight to Gus, me and Elliott make our way to the town square. Stopping I turn to him with a tired look “Are you sure you wanna walk me home? It's getting pretty late.'' I asked him. It's not like the walk to the farm is long but for him to walk all the way there and then to the beach is quite the trek even with shortcuts it can take quite a while. “Of course. I'm not gonna let you walk home alone at this hour. It wouldn't be right, especially after the drinks you had earlier.” he tells me with a grin i gaze at him skeptically. Looking him up and down.

Even after the long night he looks surprisingly put together in a semi-messy way, his hair is still put up in that messy bun from earlier but now some more strands are pulled out some of them sticking to his face after the night of dancing, his white dress shirt was wrinkled now and his red coat was lazily thrown over his shoulder. Even so, his posture was still surprisingly straight though he was very slightly hunched over but it was kinda hard to notice. After a few moments, I shrugged my shoulders “Well if you insist.”I told him.

“Oh, I insist” he smiles, turning to the side he offers me his arm. I laugh a bit and take it “Trying to pull the gentlemen card tonight Elliott?” I joke as we make our way past the little garden turning the corner to make our descent down the pathway that leads to my farm. “ I don't need to pull a card. It's just who I am,” he says, his voice a bit smoother than before. Making a little heat rise to my face. I thank the dark shadows of the night for shielding the small details from his view. Damn, that silver tongue of his. I think to myself before I remember to respond “Whatever you say El.” I chuckle looking straight ahead of us. The air is cool as we walk but not uncomfortable in the slightest. It is more of a calming breeze that floats past us picking up the smell of some of the freshly bloomed spring flowers with a slight smell of rain from the previous day. I feel as though I could never tire of the night air, And to admit walking with the man that's haunted my dreams each night just adds that little bit more to it that makes it hard for me to remember that it's real.

“Well, here we are.” I hear Elliott mumble pulling me out of my thoughts. I didn’t even realize we had walked up the steps to my front porch. “ thank you so much, Elliott.'' I smile warmly at him as I release his arm from my hold. “ It was really sweet of you to walk me home tonight. And also thank you for the fun night you and Leah provided me with.” I told him.

“It's always a pleasure, and I would do it again any time any place,” he responds with a nod. a small grin gracing his features. A few moments pass before he decides to speak once more

“ Well I suppose it's getting quite late and I wouldn't want to keep you up too late so I guess I'll be going now,” he says hesitantly. I bow my head with a smile before opening my door a small bit of confidence overcoming me as I get i silly idea

“ Well, it's not that late, how about you come inside for a moment and grab some tea before you go?”

“ that. Would be lovely. As long as you don't mind.” he says taking a step inside my home.

“ I don't mind, I offered,” I responded with a laugh closing the door behind us as I went to heat the kettle. It was a small offer but it was a night neither of us would forget for a long time.

[amethyst-writer]

For @epiclamer who requested villain caretaker! (cause it’s my fav trope)

TRIGGER WARNING: briefly mentioned/suggested SA, but nothing too graphic, AND mention of death at the end

Villain made their way deeper into Supervillain’s lair. “What the hell?” they snarled, as a prison cell came into view. “Since when did you hold prisoner’s captive?”

Supervillain curled their lip. “Since about two weeks ago. Come, see my newest prize.” They led Villain over to the dimly lit corner.

As Villain approached, a face came into view. Even though it was stubborn and exhausted, they’d recognize that face anywhere. “Hero?” Villain asked, a laugh breaking through. They smirked, glaring down at their nemesis. “Oh, wow, Hero, how far you’ve fallen. Villain reached in between the bars and tilted Hero’s chin up with their hands. “Someone finally brought you to your knees, huh?” 

Supervillain chuckled. “Yeah, in more ways than one.” 

Hero blinked hard and turned away, worrying their bottom lip. Villain snatched their hand back immediately as though they’d been burned. “What?”

Supervillain sighed. “Consider this a blessing, Villain. I don’t think they’ll be bothering you anytime soon. In fact, I’m even willing to let you have a turn.”

Hero shuddered. 

“What...” Villain slowly turned to face Supervillain. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Supervillain rolled their eyes. “Oh, I forgot how possessive you are. But don’t worry. I fixed them. You should be thanking me. They needed to know their place, and now they do. They’ll be whatever I want them to be.” 

“You... you...” Villain felt like they were going to be sick. “You violated them.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Supervillain scoffed. “I didn’t force them to do anything. It was just a matter of them putting that mouth of their’s to use. They could have walked out whenever they wanted to.”

Villain turns to glance at their nemesis, whose face was burning with humilation. Villain clenched their fists. “Is that so, Hero?”

Hero lowered their eyes, ashamed. “I... it was better than the other thing they wanted from me.”

Villain scowled. “And what was that?”

“They wanted me to... to kill you. And I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t do it. Even if we hate each other. I can’t, and I won’t kill someone.” Hero wouldn’t meet Villain’s alarmed gaze.

Filled with an emotion they could not place, Villain turned back to their boss. “How could you?”

“How could I? We’re supposed to be the bad guys here. I was just making sure your pathetic little hero knew that we weren’t to be messed with.” Supervillain jeered at Hero, to which they shrunk away. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“That is not... that is not fun. You assaulted them! That’s not the same as robbing a bank or an art heist or even a ransom kidnapping, and you know it. It’s just... it’s cruel.” Villain’s hand hovered over their dagger. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To break them the only way you knew how?”

The sinister look in Supervillain’s eyes told Villain everything they needed to know.

Without a second thought,  Villain plunged their dagger into Supervillain’s chest. Crimson spilled over the knife as Supervillain crumpled to the ground, but Villain had already turned their attention to Hero, punching an emergency signal into their phone.

“Are you alright?” they breathed, already knowing the answer. 

Hero laughed brokenly. “I don’t know.” Their voice was weak. “Can you...” They paused, clearly embarrassed. “I need help.”

Villain ran a hand through their hair. “Yeah, Hero. I know. Help is on the way, alright?”

Hero nodded, silent. Their shoulders began to shake, and they leaned over onto their knees, silently sobbing.

Villain startled. “Jesus, Hero...” they trailed off, at a loss for words. They extended their hand through the bars, careful to let the Hero decide if they were comfortable with it.

Hero peeked up at them, and then leaned into the contact. “I’m so, so sorry,” they cried.

Villain’s hand wound through Hero’s hair. “Shhh. It’s not your fault, okay? Listen to me: it is not your fault.”

Villain began to pull away, trying to give Hero space, but Hero grabbed their wrist weakly. “Wait. Please.”

“Help is on the way,” Villain repeated.

Hero grimaced. “I know, but- Villain, please. Don’t... don’t leave me here.”

Villain’s resilience shattered, and suddenly it didn’t matter whether or not they were discovered. This was an extenuating circumstance. and knowing their nemesis was quite literally begging not to be left alone...

They decided it was worth the risk.

[latibvles]

literally no one asked for this. i, however, saw these pictures on Ben Radcliffe’s instagram and decided “you know what this fandom needs? Frat Boy John Brady.” So that’s what this is. And also another excuse to write Willie & Brady coupled with shenanigans that aren’t the horrors of war. i now know way too much about fraternities and sororities. special tag for @wexhappyxfew for seeing the vision. brady has now fallen victim to my “putting characters in places they got no business being in” just like Ron

—

John should’ve majored in the art of escape.

It was seamless — slipping away from the beer pong table, head half-swimming and just a little bit stumbly. Pretty much every room on the first floor was swathed in a smoke-laden haze; John figures that Dougie’s countless social media posts must have done the trick. Most people he’s run into are strangers to him. That, and with this being the first party of the year, the turnout was bound to be big. His head was just pounding, and he needed a place to sit that wouldn’t open up the invitation for a random stranger to inadvertently sit on him.

Omega Pi’s brothers and others only policy on the second floor is a blessing in that way. He just needed a solid fifteen minutes before Bucky could sniff him out like a bloodhound and drag him into something stupid. Last semester he’d somehow managed to persuade John into drinking way too much tequila directly from the bottle, and he still gets nauseous whenever someone mentions margaritas.

He’s pretty sure he heard Benny say something about a bottle of Patrón behind the bar and he isn’t sticking around to find out.

John climbs the stairs, a little wobbly-legged, still foggy-brained as he tries to guesstimate how long he’ll have until he’s hunted down by any variety of friends wondering “Where the hell Brady’s at?” He figures maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, and that fact imbues him to move a little bit quicker to his own door, admittedly fumbling with the knob as he makes his way inside — Dougie’s playlist immediately muffled once he shuts the door, and for that he’s thankful.

He reaches for one of his vinyls on the shelf and sets it on the record player, flicking the switch and setting the needle before throwing himself haphazardly onto the bed itself and shutting his eyes a moment. The sharp beginnings of a headache are beginning to take root behind his eyes as he lets them flutter shut a moment. Deep inhale, slow exhale, ears latching onto the smooth jazz of the vinyl as opposed to the muffled Future track that was shaking the walls of their esteemed house.

He just needed t—

Click.

John’s head snaps up upon hearing his door open and shut quickly. His brows furrow, taking in the mostly shapeless form with their back to him. A varsity jacket maybe two sizes too big swathed their frame, they had curly black hair that’d gone frizzy — presumably from the amount of people downstairs. John clenches his jaw, staving off the irritation forming. This was either Bucky sending someone up here to draw him out already, or the nighttime company of someone else who’d found the wrong room. Their shoulders seem to relax and they let out a small sigh, not yet noticing him.

John gives this person the benefit of the doubt and goes with the second option.

“Think you’ve got the wrong room,” he opens with a clearing of his throat. The person gasps, small and surprised, head whipping around to meet him and— oh.

Her eyes are big and brown, brows raised and lips parted for a moment. They stare at each other, wordless, and he’ll blame the fact that he’s kind of taken aback for the moment on the alcohol — taking her in. She has on one of those black corset tops and a pair of beat up white sneakers. He recognizes her, vaguely, having seen her come in with a group of girls from the sorority house down the street. Bucky knew them better than he did, but to be fair, Bucky knew everybody.

“Sorry I didn’t—” she presses herself back up against the door again, lips pressing into a line. “Was just looking for a quiet spot. You guys have uh… persistent party guests. I can— I can leave if—” she’s reaching for the doorknob and John’s sitting up, reaching like he’s going to cross the threshold to stop her from turning the knob.

“No. No, you can stay. I just thought you were—”

“Here to hook up?” His face heats up at her blunt delivery of it, and John coughs unceremoniously into his fist.

“...yeah, something like that.” She nods, her expression unreadable, the silence between them admittedly stiff. He’s sitting up more, as opposed to his prior position laid out sidelong on his bed, extending his hand and feeling almost dumb for doing so. “I’m… I’m John er— Brady. John Brady.” Jesus Christ, when did he ever trip over his words like this.

She takes it, shaking his hand and he can’t help but notice the callouses, the chipped manicure and blue stains on her fingers.

“I’ve heard.” His eyes widen at that.

“You’ve heard?” There seems to be a twitch at the corner of her lip, she looks from their hands back up to him.

“One of your friends… Ev? I think his name was? Was looking for a uh… Johnny with the Donny and I’m pretty sure you’re the only one hiding up here.” John doesn’t know whether to laugh or to hide his burning face in the pillows and try to stave off the tequila-induced PTSD he feels coming back in full force. He decides to snort quietly instead of further embarassing himself.

“Except for you.” She nods, squeezing his hand and then letting it go.

“Except for me.” John really wishes he were more sober for this, just so he’d stop getting caught up in long dark lashes and the pink dusting on her cheeks that he doesn’t know if it’s from makeup or from him. His half-inebriated brain hopes that it’s because of him. He almost misses her introduction. “I’m Willie.”

John smiles.

“That short for something?”

“Nothing worth repeating. Too many syllables.” She waves her hand dismissively, and he scoffs in amusement at how quick Willie is to dismiss it. He figures not to press this time.

“Alright. Hope you don’t mind jazz then. You can uh… sit wherever,” John welcomes, gesturing to his space. At least he could pride himself on keeping things neat in here — even if their kitchen would be sticky with spilled beer tomorrow and it’d take a good chunk of their Sunday to clean everything up. Willie makes her way over to his desk chair and plops down — it rolls with the force of her as she looks around his room with an innocent type of curiosity.

“You have… a lot of music,” she murmurs in a quiet sense of wonder — the kind that makes John feel warm down to the tips of his toes.

“It’s kinda my whole thing…” her eyes are drawn back to him and he feels suddenly shy. “Music Ed.”

“History,” Willie looks at the vinyls he has neatly stored on his shelf by the record player. “If I tell you I’ve never heard this song, are you going to kick me out?”

“You’ve never listened to Sade?” She smiles a little bit — this time he’s sure of it — still eyeing his vinyls, and shakes her head. “Well I won’t kick you out but I might not let you leave ‘till you can name three songs off the top of your head.”

“God, you’re one of those.”

“Oh absolutely. The worst kind,” he’s teasing now, and it’s landing because she’s laughing in a breathless kind of way, a way that sobers him up as if to ensure he could commit her to memory as she is now. And she’s, well… she’s beautiful, sitting at his desk chair, looking at the CD cases he’d put up on his walls at the start of the term. Effortlessly so. He’d make her laugh for the rest of the night in this space if it weren’t for the fickleness of his hiding spot. Her eyes fall onto him again and they look over him from his spot on the edge of the bed. Her gaze is piercing as they dart over the length of him with all the swiftness of a hummingbird, her fingers reaching up to mess with her bottom lip a moment. “I’m sure there’s probably worse.”

John raises his brows.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, considering…” she gestures to the space around him. “I mean— there’re frats with worse reputations too. I just heard that Omega Pi’s—”

“Reckless?” She nods succinctly, with a half-hearted shrug.

“And that some of you go through girls like a mom in a Target clearance aisle,” John makes a noise that’s half between being strangled and laughing. “Guys too.” It takes him a minute to come back down to Earth after that one, rubbing at his face, halfway between embarrassment and amusement. Okay, she wasn’t wrong: his friends had a tendency to do some stupid shit, himself included, and while he in specific wasn’t hooking up with anyone with a pulse — he’s pretty sure that Dougie bought three boxes of condoms after move-in day. But they hadn’t done anything to get arrested and he’s pretty sure all the guys were, well, clean where it mattered.

“That’s just Dougie,” John offers, and she raises an inquisitive brow.

“And Bucky.”

“Christ, what’d he do?”

“Nothing, he just has the look to him.” Okay, that’s fair. “And he definitely stole my friend from me to play beer pong because he couldn’t find his partner.” John clicks his tongue at that.

“That might’ve been my fault.” Willie rises from her seat and he watches as she seems to mull it over for a moment, before crossing to actually sit next to him now. She’s so much closer than before — his lamp lights up some of her dark hair to make it look more brown, there’s a shimmer of faded highlighter on her cheeks and something inexplicably pretty about the mascara flakes dotting just below her eyes. He’d wipe them with his thumbs if she’d let him. He gives her a half-shrug. “Like I said, we’re both hiders.”

With the small laugh and bob of her head, he catches a whiff of her perfume. Something clean and a little citrusy, reminding him vaguely of springtime in spite of the autumn leaves changing outside.

“Well then it’s not all bad.” She decides on, sincerely. His knee bumps into hers and they exchange quiet smiles — the air significantly less stiff between them. Something warm sprouting between them and charged by the points where they connect. His pinky finds hers on the mattress, and in a brief move of boldness, he lets his hand overlap hers. Willie looks down, cheeks flushing as she looks back up at him.

She really is a vision, flustered like this.

She opens her mouth to speak but is immediately cut-off by Mambo No. 5 blaring — John knows that’s not his ringtone, and so he laughs in disbelief as Willie’s eyes widen.

“That’s— my friend Harrie set that I think. I—”

“It’s fine. Maybe you’re just a Lou Bega fan.”

“John—” she narrows her eyes and he thinks he might swat at her so he’s leaning back.

“Well don’t keep them waiting.”

She huffs, picking up the phone with a very flat “Hello?” but the voice on the other end is so loud that he can hear it clear as day.

“Where are you? Fern’s up on the table and I can’t get her down!” Willie looks at John, who’s hand is covering his own mouth to muffle his laughter, evident by his shaking shoulders. The exchange is quick: Willie’s words are flat, almost bewildered, and she’s batting at him as they talk before she hangs up the phone and looks at him with what he’s pretty sure is disappointment. He can’t say he’s not disappointed either.

“Guess I’ve been found. I can leave you here, tell them you passed out.” He shakes his head, standing up as she does, rubbing the nape of her neck.

“That’s never stopped them before and it won’t start now,” he admits, turning to switch off his record player, walking towards his door to get it for her. She walks past with quiet thanks and John watches for a few moments, admiring her departing figure before walking after her and descending back down the stairs into the chaos — the sound of his name on her scolding tongue looping over and over again in the back of his mind.

[yopossum]

Kindred Spirits

a Jack Daniels miniseries for Week 2 (Arts & Culture) of @secretelephanttattoo’s Secret Springs Challenge!

Main Masterlist - PART 2

Pairing: Professor Jack Daniels, PhD. X f!Reader

Rating: Part 1 - M

Summary: You’re on your cousin’s bachelorette trip and having a… time. Your hard partying days are years behind you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the girls; you need something slow, soft, meaningful to shake off the weight of the world. Fortunately, the Secret Springs Arts & Culture brochure has an event that sounds right up your alley - “History, Distilled: The Folklore of Alcohol,” a presentation and tasting with Dr. Jack Daniels, a distinguished professor of folk history, storyteller, author, and spirits expert. You expected an afternoon of boozy education. You certainly didn’t expect that a cocky cowboy caricature would teach you more about the world, and yourself, than you ever imagined.

Warnings: Part 1: alcohol and drinking, overindulgence/drunkenness, party girlies, bachelorette shenanigans, sneaky Mayor El, and not much else yet! Eventual romance and feelings and 🌶️

Shout-outs to @oliveksmoked (Coco’s Nuts) and @shchristine (La Belle Vie) whose earlier contributions wiggled their way into this fic 😘😘😘

“Girl come ON! We didn’t come all the way to Secret Springs to go to a lecture! Didn’t you get that boring shit out of your system in college like forever ago?!” Stephanie groaned and rolled her eyes as she tugged at her tiny neon pink bikini. Chantel nodded aggressively from her permanent spot at the suite’s vanity, mouth open in a tiny “o” as she applied a nineteenth layer of thick black waterproof mascara. Bride-to-be Brandy was busying herself in the bathroom, trying to pin a novelty veil into her messy bun to wear along with her sparkly “I’M GETTING MARRIED, BITCHES!” sash. You sighed and folded up the Arts & Culture Events pamphlet you’d snagged from the lobby, setting it on the nightstand and flopping back onto the bed.

You loved your cousin. You really, really did. You were thrilled she was getting married. You were honored she wanted to include you in her wedding, her bridal party, and, by extension, her bachelorette trip. The thing was, you were kind of… overwhelmed? Exhausted? Old? Over it?

Maybe fifteen years earlier you’d have been the first girl dancing at the poolside bar. Hell, you’d have been the first girl dancing on top of the poolside bar. You’d have been the first girl physically removed from the poolside bar, your tiny neon bikini strung haphazardly around you like a too-tan bottle-blonde trussed ham. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to let loose anymore. You sure as hell did, and had a million more reasons to need a vacation now than you did when you were in your early 20s. Your idea of letting loose now was just quieter. Involved air conditioning. Maybe indulging in some niche hobbies or interests because you never had a fucking minute of peace or mental breathing room anymore because capitalism is a cruel joke and growing up is a goddamn scam.

Whew. Yeah, you needed this vacation.

“How about you guys hit Coco’s Nuts on my dime and I’ll go do my boring old lady shit? I’ll open a tab for you on my way into town,” you offered.

“Bitch, oh my god!” shrieked Brandy, giddy, leaning out of the bathroom with a blinding smile. Stephanie and Chantel squealed in unison, beaming at you. Crest Whitestrips ought to sponsor this damn wedding.

“It’s the least I can do,” you giggled as the girls circled you in a group hug. “My delinquent days are far behind me now, but I’m happy to sponsor promising up-and-comers.”

“Meet for dinner, though?” Brandy asked, and you shook your head yes. “Mayor El said something a really nice restaurant here.”

“Ooh, La Belle Vie! I’m pulling up the website right now. Everything there looks DELICIOUS,” swooned Stephanie, eyes on her phone.

Chantel leaned over her shoulder and gaped. “Including the chef! Goddamn!” She fanned herself dramatically.

You helped the girls sunscreen up and snuck some Liquid IV powder packets into their bags, then sent them down to Coco while you finished getting yourself ready. You pulled on your favorite jeans, dark-washed and high-waisted and skinny thankyouverymuch, and tucked in your soft, faded Loretta Lynn tee. Slipping on some broken-in Chacos and an oversized pair of sunglasses, you snagged the discarded Arts & Culture pamphlet and tossed it in your tote bag before heading out the door.

———

“Remember water, watch your drinks, and if any guys creep you out, call me or tell Coco and we’ll put the fear of God into them, okay?” You repeated to the group. Coco grinned and nodded her affirmation from behind the bar. “Dieter promised me he’ll play your song whenever you’re ready, Brandy!”

“You’re the BEST!” Your cousin threw her arms around your neck in thanks. “Text me when you’re done with your… thingy?”

“‘History, Distilled: The Folklore of Alcohol,’ says the guide. ‘An afternoon of storytelling and spirit-tasting’ with a Dr. Daniels. And yes, I will!”

“You won’t regret it,” said a voice from behind you.

“Oh! Mayor El! I didn’t see you there, sorry. I’m really looking forward to it! Have you seen Dr. Daniels speak before?” You were more than a little excited to nerd out over some folk history and liquor legends.

The mayor smiled slyly. “Haven’t had the chance myself yet, with how busy we’ve been this season, but I’ve heard that Jack Daniels is quite knowledgeable.”

“Wait, Jack Daniels? Like the whiskey? Is that like a stage name or something?” Chantel was eavesdropping.

“No clue! We don’t require that kind of documentation here at Secret Springs, my dear. Ruins the magic, don’t you think?” Mayor El winked. You and Chantel exchanged looks. Coco winced. Better remember to double-check the lock on the in-room safe tonight, just to be safe.

“Got to be on my way, now. Busy, busy! You ladies have a great rest of your day,” the mayor concluded warmly, before turning to you directly. “And you,” she whispered, “enjoy your afternoon with Jack. I suspect he’s as smooth as his namesake.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, humming a tune to herself that sounded a lot like “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Hm.

Waving to the rest of your travel companions, you shouldered your tote bag and headed out the front doors, stepping out onto the sunny cobblestone street and heading towards the center of town.

—————————————————————————

PART 2

[saetgvia]

i like you a latte!

inspired by the very cold weather we're having here and my desire to curl up in an armchair with a good book and a hot chocolate.

barista!gaming x fem!reader, university au

✧ genre: it's supposed to be fluff. is it? let's see!!

✧ word count: 2.5k+ lol haha!!

✧ triggers: uh i say hell once (twice now), drinking mentioned once

✧ songs: espresso - sabrina carpenter, forever only - jaehyun

a/n: ok i know everyone's waiting for a spark update but LIKE COME ON IT'S WINTER i have to write this and how PERFECT is gaming for this like !!! also i made gaming taller than he is lol like 5'3?? no dude i need reader to be shorter than gaming

a/n after i've finished writing: did i say drabble? i lied.

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i. exam special

'Oh no. I'm so screwed.'

'You'll be FINE, dude. You've got this!'

You slump into your chair, a half-sigh, half-scream escaping from you and earning you more than a few confused looks from the people sitting in the library with you. The librarian sends you her fifth glare of the hour, and strides over, her heels clacking angrily on the tiled floor.

'You two. OUT!'

You look at your best friend, Kaveh, and you both stifle your laughs as you shove your stuff haphazardly into your backpacks and book it, chuckles slipping through as you step into the cold winter morning.

'How is it this cold?' Kaveh groans, frantically rubbing his arms trying to warm up. 'Come on Teyvat Uni, take it easy on us! We're literally feeding you money!'

You give him a deadpan gaze before snatching his phone out of his hand where it dangles precariously and jogging past him towards one of the buildings.

'This ought to warm you up!' you yell as you run down the steps into the campus quadrangle. The quadrangle is your favourite place in the entirety of TNU, not exactly a quadrangle but lined on three sides with on-campus cafes and stores and opened up on the fourth side to a rolling green lawn known affectionately as 'the lawn.' You know where you're going, but so does Kaveh, and he's faster than you, so you wind up at the door to your favourite cafe a few seconds behind your best friend, panting, as he plucks the phone from your hands with a grin. You roll your eyes, and step inside, groaning out a half coherent 'I need coffee,' before smiling at the barista at the counter.

'Alhaitham! Hey!'

The melodious tinkling of the door chimes has died down by now, and as you breathe in, you can't help but sigh contentedly at the delicious scent of coffee and chocolate, laced with cinnamon, that wafts into your nose.

'You'll take your usual I presume?' Alhaitham asks, wiping his hands on a checkered towel.

'Nope. The exam special please.' You answer as you slump into one of the bar stools sitting in front of the polished wooden counter. You've always liked how pretty the cafe is. Aptly named Oasis, the cafe oozes cozy from every corner. Its walls are toasty oak, hanging with art bought from vintage stores and donated by grateful students. Plants overflow from each corner, a bright splash of green, and warm lights hang from the ceiling above tables and the counter. They're on even during the day, the sunlight spilling from the windows dull and murky. As Alhaitham, the owner of the cafe, turns away to make the highly caffeinated drink, your eyes fall on an unfamiliar face wiping down a table near you. A brown-mahogany head, bopping along and humming softly to Sabrina Carpenter's Espresso that was playing through the speakers. As he straightened up, you could see his red shirt and grey pants hidden by a white apron with Oasis stitched into the corner in pretty green thread. His face is youthful, glowing with happiness even when there is only the hint of a smile on his face. There's something about him, his aura, that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

'Must be new,' you whisper to Kaveh, who nods, setting up with his notes and graphics calculator, eyes already glazed by calculus.

Alhaitham returns with your two exam specials, and you nudge Kaveh, who looks up and takes his drink.

'Cheers!'

'You know it's coffee, right? Why-'

'Just do it.'

Kaveh sighs before clinking his cup with your own and taking a sip before immediately hashashahshafaing and fanning his mouth because it was too hot.

'Al! Why did you make it so hot? You never make it this hot!'

You and Alhaitham are snickering at your friend's misfortune, and Alhaitham says, still laughing, 'It's freezing outside. It makes sense to make it this hot.'

Kaveh rolls his eyes, before leaning back over the counter with sparkling eyes and a knowing look in your direction. Throughout your chat, you'd been sneaking glances at the handsome barista. You'd thought Kaveh was too caught up in his work to pay attention, but apparently he's had his eyes on you the whole time.

'Who's that? Kaveh asks, gesturing towards the boy.

'Oh that? That's Gaming, my new hire.'

'WHAT? And you rejected my application?'

'Kaveh, we all know you'd set the kitchen on fire if you tried to cook,' you butt in.

'Exactly. And when a culinary major comes knocking, you don't turn them down, especially when you run a cafe!'

'A culinary major? Oh this is great! You've always wanted a guy who can cook!' Kaveh says a little too enthusiastically. Gaming, ears perking at the sound of his major, looks up from where he's fixing up some cushions and catches your eye. You wave, a little awkwardly, and he grins and waves back, his warm brown eyes friendly.

'Hi Gaming! Can I get your number?' Kaveh calls over your shoulder.

The coffee must be kicking in, you think, rolling your eyes inwardly.

'Ignore Kaveh, you don't have to'

'Oh no, it's alright, I'd love to! I'm always looking for new friends if that's okay with you?'

'Y-yeah. Give me your number?'

'HeY-' Alhaitham's hand shoots out to cover Kaveh's mouth, smiling pleasantly. 'Continue.'

You exchange numbers, and Gaming holds out his hand for you to shake.

'Hi, I'm Gaming. It's nice to meet you!'

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

ii. oh no... finals

Ding!

You jolt out of your stupor to a message on your phone. You're studying for your visual effects final (yes, you're surprised it has an exam too!) and you've been staring at the problem set for at least five minutes now, too tired to go on. Your room is a mess, bedsheets rumpled, clothes hanging off your chair and slippers cast over the floor without a second thought. In the background, you hear the faint hum of Kaveh singing 'Forever Only' by Jaehyun, and you then hear the much louder ding of your phone going off with another message.

gaming: hey, u free?

you: no unfortunately

you: buried in mountains of exam revision

gaming: oh dude same! i was just gonna head to the library for a change of scenery

gaming: come with?

You think about it for a second.

you: yeah sure

you: not like i'm getting anything done here anyways

gaming: you live with kaveh, right? i'll come pick you up!

you: ...how do yk where i live...

you: this some stalker biz right here

gaming: NO omg i've been talking to kaveh too he told 😭

you: LOL okay

gaming: see you in 10?

you: see you in 10!

You stare at your problem set some more, before realising you should probably get ready to go to the library. You unceremoniously dump your things into a tote (it's your favourite bag; it has cute woodland animals eating dessert on it and you fell in love with it the first time you saw it hanging in the store) before changing out of your hoodie and trackpants into... a hoodie and jeans.

It's only a day at the library, you think, as you slip on your sneakers and check the time. 9:10AM it reads. Gaming should be here soon. Right on cue, your phone dings with a message from Gaming.

gaming: i'm here!

You hurry down the stairs, exit your apartment building to see a sleek black car with a familiar boy leaning against it. He has on a black hoodie and some grey cargos, this time with red and gold detailing down the side.

'Hey!' Gaming calls, waving excitedly.

'Hey!' you reply, hurrying over.

Gaming is surprised. He'd found you pretty at the cafe, in your pleated skirt and white top. But he finds you even prettier now, your hair escaping your ponytail and your hoodie sliding a little too far to the left.

'Gaming?' You wave your hand in front of his face, snapping him from his trance. He opens the passenger side door for you, exaggerating his movements as he bows you in, then jogs to the other side to get into his own.

Cute, you think, then scrunch up your face in confusion.

'You good there? VFX work getting to you again?'

You look at him again.

'How-'

'Kaveh.'

'Oh.'

You spend the drive to the library in comfortable silence, enjoying the music playing on the radio, and when you pull up to the building, you sigh reluctantly, having to get out of the toasty warmth of the car. As soon as you step outside, you shiver, and notice Gaming shivering alongside you.

'Oh god let's get into the library.'

Finally inside the library, you and Gaming grab a table as quickly as possible and pull out your laptops. You bring out your mouse to get some work done on your problem sets and Gaming brings out his pencil, scribbling away busily at something. You're glad that he doesn't try to converse with you. Not because you don't want to talk to him, but because you really need to do your work. A couple hours later, you speak.

'When's your first final?'

Gaming looks up, and answers you quietly.

'Next Wednesday, it's my practical.'

'Cooking, huh.'

'Yeah. You?'

'TOMORROW,' you groan. 'I really really need to get these done. But I'm so TIRED!'

Gaming looks thoughtful for a second, before springing up from his chair.

'Be back in a few okay? Stay here.'

You watch his quickly retreating figure, confused, but shrug it off to continue work.

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

Gaming comes back in, holding two coffee cups. You've finished your problem set, and you're now stretching before starting on the worksheets for Calculus which you begrudgingly agreed to take with Kaveh. He sets one of the cups down in front of you, the amazing smell of coffee emanating from them.

'Caramel exam special!'

'What? How'd you know I like caramel?'

'Lucky guess.'

No it wasn't. He'd asked Alhaitham for your orders that weren't exam specials. He watched you take a sip, your face taken over by delight.

'This is so good. What the hell?'

Gaming lets out a sigh of relief, glad you liked it. You sipped it, then sipped it again, then kept drinking until it was gone.

'Ohhhh my god. I need like a million of these every day.'

'Here, have this one! You look like you need it more than I do.'

'Gee thanks,' you scoff playfully, taking the drink. 'You sure?'

'Yeah, go ahead!'

He needs the coffee too, but he'd gladly give it to you if that's what you wanted.

You and Gaming study together for another hour, and by 1PM, you're hungry and done with your VFX and calculus.

'Gaming, wanna grab lunch?'

'Yeah let's go, I'm feeling burgers.'

You grin. 'Hey, you read my mind!'

You get up, quickly sliding your laptop and worksheets into your tote and pushing your chair in, under the table. Gaming smiles, and you stop breathing for a moment. Eyes disappearing into crescents, his whole face aglow with happiness. His teeth peek out from beneath his lips and you feel a sudden, unexplainable urge to hold his hand. You shake it off when you notice him looking at you strangely, and pull out your phone.

'Takeout?'

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

Gaming's gone now, and it's about 8PM. The time flew by so fast, you both spending all day laughing and eating and... actually getting work done. You hadn't talked to Kaveh all day, and he slouches into your room, a pout on his face.

'Heeeeeeeeeey! How could you ignore me for Gaming all day? I'm your best friend!'

'Well, Gaming actually helped me study.'

He helped you a little too well, actually. So well it was distracting. You still remember his warm hand brushing yours, his breath on your neck as he leaned over you and helped with some problem you had. This is crazy, you think. I met him two days ago. Two! I can't do this!

But somehow, you already are. You're developing quite the crush.

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

iii. i think i love you

One year later...

You and Gaming have been friends for a year now. Best friends, actually, but nobody can really replace Kaveh. Gaming's grown to be more than a friend to you, and you've spent many a night giggling with Kaveh after you've had a little too much to drink. Kaveh is all for it, of course, and much to your dislike, keeps sending you very obvious winks and knowing glances. But anyways, you're meeting Gaming again, and you're dressed up very nicely in a white skirt and pink top, matching the cherry blossoms that are blooming down your street and throughout all of TNU.

'I'll see you in a bit Kaveh!'

You step out of your apartment building only to see Gaming waiting for you. He's fiddling with his fingers and he looks... quite nervous.

'Hey Gaming. You okay?'

You took his breath away. This year he's spent with you has been one of the best of his life, and every day he sees you, he falls deeper and deeper in love. So he's decided to take the chance, and let you know. He's always told himself to be honest, and he's not going to hide something from someone he cares about so much.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go?'

You smile at him.

'Yeah.'

You get in his car, and drive down the lane lined with beautiful sakura. You're so busy looking at the flowers, but Gaming's looking at you. And the road. But also you. So when you stop at a beautiful park, pretty pink blooms mixed with pure white ones, it's safe to say you're enthralled. And Gaming's enthralled by you. He takes your hand, albeit nervously, and your cheeks flush as you softly intertwine your hands with his. His hands are warm, and yours slots into his so perfectly that you can't help but wonder if this is how it should be.

You're sitting under a gazebo, bright white with gold details climbing up the sides and quaint wooden benches for people to sit on. This is where you and Gaming are sitting, laughing your heads off at one of Gaming's kitchen stories. He's brought lunch, sandwiches that are delicious and dessert that's heavenly. Being friends with a culinary major certainly has its perks.

Friends. The word sits heavy in your heart.

Gaming breathes deeply. He's going to tell you. He's going to tell you. But first, the lake.

It's amazing, the lake. Smooth as a mirror, rippled only by ducks and their sweet little ducklings happily bobbing their way across the water.

'Wow...' you let out softly. The trees are framing the lake in shades of blush and pearl, and you think it might be the most beautiful thing you've seen in your life. Gaming thinks it's nice, sure, but in his eyes, you're the only thing he sees. And he has to tell you.

'Hey...'

'Hmm?'

'I like you.'

You blink. And then blink again.

'Come again?'

Gaming almost chickens out, but steels himself and says it again.

'I like you.'

You smile and then grin from ear to ear.

'What? Really?'

'Yeah.'

Gaming doesn't know what to make of your reaction... but from the way you're smiling, it seems... good?

'Um?'

'I like you too.'

This time, Gaming's the shocked one.

'What?'

'I like you too, doofus.

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from saetgvia: lol i think this is cringe this is like my first full romance fic and idk man... any feedback you have is greatly appreciated!

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my taglist is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added!

© saetgvia 2024. do not copy or repost.

[deadgirlwalking91]

new #guitarspear one-shot in collab with @branded-rose 'drunk minds speak sober thoughts' 🎸 🗡️

Summary

Adam’s eyes widened as they darted back to the bar. Sure enough, the mystery exorcist that Vaggie had been talking to was now fully facing the stage, eyes frantically peering through the crowd and - oh, holy shit.

Lute held in her hand the universal vessel of a good time: a red, plastic party cup.

“No fucking way,” he muttered, grinning maniacally.

Lute didn’t drink. At least, not outside the comfort of her own home to the best of his knowledge. Now, this he had to see.

~~~

At the post-Extermination Day party, Lute decides she's had enough of watching Adam get drunk and make a fool of himself year after year while she watches on, sober as a judge. She decides it's her turn to have a little fun of her own, but soon realises that her drunken antics come with their own set of consequences that can't be ignored. OR;

Lute gets drunk, Adam tries to be responsible and all Vaggie wants to do is be a good friend.

Author's Notes

Diiiiiiiid somebody say collab??? Because when branded-rose and I connected over our mutual love for Adam and Lute, we sure as hell did!

We had plans to write a 'short' one-shot, which ended up kiiiiiinda escalating... big time. And we couldn't be more excited to share it with you all! Speaking of sharing, branded-rose created some beautiful art to accompany our story, which can be found here. Before you scroll down, CLICK THAT LINK and give her ALL the love for her work! Also, Lute looks SO pretty!

Only warning is that this is long (18,000+ words), and we haven't split it up purely because it was only ever meant to be a one-shot and we want to keep it that way.

To my wonderful co-author: writing this with you has been the MOST FUN. Internet friends freaking RULE. Thank you <3

So buckle up, buttercups and enjoy! ***

The music was loud. The people around her were loud. Everything was LOUD. 

Lute could almost hear herself think. Almost. 

Then again, she was never really big on the Victory concerts.

The last thing she wanted to do after an extermination was watch Adam and the other girls get drunk and toss themselves at each other. Toss themselves at him.

Normally, she’d have no issue competing with the other girls. However, she wouldn’t when they were drunk out of their minds. That was no competition. 

Every year, they went through this. Every year, she reluctantly took part and never drank anything. 

Why would she? There was no point.

Well, usually, there was no point. Today though? She was starting to have second thoughts. Especially as she caught their boss flirting with several of the exorcists on the stage.

Like he did every year. 

“You actually gonna drink?” Vaggie walked up, nodding to the plastic cup in her sworn sister’s hand.

Lute puffed her cheeks, drumming her fingers against the cup in question.

“Just… wine.” She glanced down at the liquid, her already furrowed brows dropping lower. 

Vaggie eyed the red cup skeptically. “You, uh… you’re sure?”

Lute shot Vaggie a look, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a large sip to prove a point.

She held the liquid in her mouth for a second, debating if she wanted to actually swallow before stubbornness won out.

It was just one glass of wine.

Vaggie raised a brow, unconvinced. Sure, it wasn’t unlike Lute to have a glass here and there in the comfort of her own home. But this wasn’t her own home. This was a loud party. 

One their maniac of a boss was throwing.

Normally, Lute would stand in a corner and glare at anyone and EVERYONE before she ushered their idiot commander home for the night.

Not something she would personally do herself but who was she to judge?

“You’re sure?” Vaggie sighed and took a sip from her own cup, turning to face the party.

Lute’s eyes scanned the crowd, her jaw clenching as she realized she’d lost sight of Adam.

He was probably off doing body shots again. Great.

She knocked the rest of her drink back, something that very clearly caught Vaggie off guard.

Lute ignored the wide-eyed expression her sworn sister shot her, turning back to the bar and getting herself more wine.

“Ooookay- this isn’t… typical of you.” Vaggie moved to stand next to her, concern growing.

Lute ignored her again.

“Especially not after an ex-” She cut herself off when Lute once more knocked the drink back, downing the wine in the plastic cup like it was a shot glass.

“-termination…” Vaggie had no words.

She continued to stare at her comrade with a mixture of concern and pure horror as she watched her slam yet another glass of wine after that.

If it was ANYONE else she might not have cared. Because this was Lute? She had to have some level of concern.

It wasn’t as if the lieutenant was… the most easy going of exorcists. She had VERY strict standards that she held herself to.

And she was also borderline INSANE.

Lute had downed a solid five drinks by that point, quickly and without mercy.

Her cheeks started to flush gold, the flashing lights and pounding music not nearly as intrusive as they had been moments ago.

She very briefly caught sight of Adam near the stage as she turned around, having a great time with Layla. 

That bitch.

She grit her teeth, suddenly remembering why it was exactly she had felt compelled to drink in the first place.

Turning back to the bar, she requested something harder, much to Vaggie’s surprise.

Adam fucking loved the annual Victory concert. The babes. The booze. The beats. It didn’t matter which direction he looked, he was surrounded by the result of another successful Extermination Day.

He’d managed a new personal best this year, too. Four hundred and eleven.

Four hundred and eleven bottles of hard liquor that were expertly raided from the degenerate entertainment venues of Hell by his specialist task-force of exorcists.

Personally assigned by the first man himself, their sole job during the last hour of Extermination Day was to storm the copious bars and clubs that lurked in the shadiest districts of the Pride Ring and confiscate the alcohol that lined the top shelves of such fine establishments.

Adam’s definition of confiscate, however, was to transport the goods back up to Heaven for their yearly balls-to-the-wall bender where everyone would trade in their usual wine for the hard stuff they could only get their hands on at the post-extermination rager.

Wine glasses were a rare sight at the event, the partygoers opting instead for red party cups or plastic shot glasses, filled with whatever they’d managed to pilfer from Hell that year. Adam’s drink of choice were body shots - the type of liquor unimportant - off whichever exorcist volunteered to be his own personal bar counter.

The best part? Everybody was one hundred and ten percent down with the party. Inhibitions, dignity and modesty were left at the door by all before entering, almost like they were being checked into some sort of moral cloakroom.

Once the celebrations eventually wrapped up the deviant revelers would emerge, spend the following days nursing wicked hangovers and then return to their usual heavenly selves, ready to repeat it all the next year.

Well, almost everybody did, anyway. Everybody except Lute.

Adam peered out into the crowd, squinting through the bright lights as he tried to locate his lieutenant. She wasn’t leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, scowling at everybody else dabbling in their one night of debauchery. She certainly wasn’t on the dance floor - the current song playing was an apparently popular R&B tune from Earth where the only appropriate dance move was to grind rhythmically against another person’s hips.

Lute did not grind.

At least, not to his knowledge.

His eyes flickered over to the bar, where Vaggie was standing next to another exorcist who’s side profile he couldn’t quite make out - though whoever it was, they were taking a damn long time to drink from their cup. He could have smashed three shots by now. 

Speaking of…

He flagged down Layla, one of his favorite angels to party with post-extermination. A brunette mega-babe, she made everybody’s heads turn whenever she strolled down the promenade. 

She flashed him a million-dollar smile and sashayed her way over. 

They had an annual tradition that was yet to be honored this year, something they’d dubbed the ‘Victory Shot’.

Layla loved body shots almost as much as Adam did. Possibly more. Sometimes she did them off the other exorcists, other times she was the body. Rarely was she a spectator.

Layla was the epitome of a good time.

“The usual, sir?” She grinned, expertly balancing a clear shot, salt shaker and lime wedge in one hand, other resting on her cocked hip . He returned the smile, placing a hand on her waist as he leant in to answer her.

“You know it, sugartits.” 

Layla’s laugh rang in his ears as she nestled the shot glass between her cleavage, sprinkled salt over the top of one of her tits and balanced the lime wedge on the other.

“Here’s to another killer year!” she cheered, shaking her hair off her shoulders and sticking her chest out in Adam’s direction. 

“Fuck yeah, babe!” Adam tightened his grip around her waist and licked the salt clean off her skin. Wasting no time, he wrapped his mouth around the rim of the glass and lifted it out from between her breasts, tilting his head back so the liquid slid down his throat in one smooth motion. He removed the glass from his lips and promptly replaced it with the lime wedge, sucking hard until no more juice remained and the burn from his throat eased. Layla held her hand out for a high-five, which he returned eagerly.

“Ahh, good shit. Thanks babe.” He crooked an elbow around her neck and pressed a brief kiss to the side of her head affectionately before strolling towards the wings of the stage, remembering what he was doing before he got distracted.

“Hey, you haven’t seen Lute around have you? Or has she bitched out already?” he yelled back to Layla over the pounding music.She laughed again and pointed to where Adam had seen Vaggie standing moments earlier.

“Check the bar, she’s in for a good night I think.” 

Adam’s eyes widened as they darted back to the bar. Sure enough, the mystery exorcist that Vaggie had been talking to was now fully facing the stage, eyes frantically peering through the crowd and - oh, holy shit. Layla wasn’t kidding.

Lute held in her hand the universal vessel of a good time: a red, plastic party cup.

“No fucking way,” he muttered, grinning maniacally.

Lute didn’t drink. At least, not outside the comfort of her own home to the best of his knowledge. Now, this he had to see.

“I… don’t know if this is-“ Vaggie began, attempting to dissuade her sworn sister from making a big mistake. 

Lute waved her hand in front of the other’s face, cutting her off as she raised the cup to her lips.

“How I choose to party shouldn’t be your fucking problem.” She hissed, raising the drink to her lips and attempting to knock it back.

She could not knock it back, instead spitting it out onto the floor in front of her.

“The fuck! That tastes like paint stripper!!!!”

“Diiiiiiiiiid somebody say stripper?” Adam grinned, leaning sloppily against the bar counter.

“What are you doing to my lieutenant, Vagasaurous? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, if you’re gonna corrupt her with your pussy-loving powers, call me-“

“Oh, go fuck a cheese grater, would you?” Vaggie rolled her eyes and leaned towards Lute so Adam couldn’t hear. “Need me to stick around? He seems like he’ll be especially painful tonight.”

“I heard that!” Adam protested, leaning over to check the contents of Lute’s cup. “What are you drinking, Dangertits? Not water again?” He plucked it out of her hand and took a sip.

Ooooh. That burned. And not the good kind of burn. Whoever swiped that from one of Hell’s bars missed the memo where he specified top shelf booze only. They’d be running laps on Monday as punishment once he found the exorcist responsible for bringing petrol back up to Heaven.

“Nope. Can confirm that’s not water.” He shuddered and set the cup on the bar.

“Finally having a drink, Lute? Rude of you not to ask me to pop your cherry."

Lute narrowed her eyes at him. “Sir, we have had a drink together before.”

“Not like this, Lutey!” He threw his arms around both girls’ shoulders and squeezed them tightly.

“This is gonna be legend-fucking-dary!”

Lute froze, her arms pinned firmly to her sides.

“Ugh, gross. Nope. Not happening.” Vaggie twisted out of his grip, spilling most of her drink on herself in the process.

“Oh, chillax, Vag. Look, I’ll pour you both a drink, here.” Adam released Lute from his death grip, who’s face had turned the exact same shade of gold as the stage lights. He vaulted the bar counter, stumbling slightly upon his landing.

The bartender gave him a filthy look. Adam didn’t care. It wasn’t like the bartender had organized the booze. He leered at them until they skulked off to serve another exorcist.

“Right - what have we got here that’s virgin-friendly?” He eyed a half-full bottle of vodka. Perfect.

Not too hard for a baby drinker like Lute, but enough to help her relax. Loosen her up a bit. Maybe even enough for a cheeky dance later, if he was lucky.

Vaggie turned away from Adam and the bar, once more attempting to offer Lute an out. She suspected though, the lieutenant wasn’t going to take it.

“You can still back out and call it a night. No one is gonna think any less of you if you bail early.”

Lute scoffed at the notion that she’d need to back out. She shot Vaggie a look.

“You’re overreacting.” She went to raise her abandoned cup to her mouth, only to think better of it when she remembered the taste, and the fact that Adam had drank from it.

Vaggie’s eyebrow twitched.

”I’m overreacting? Lute, you’ve just knocked back five glasses of wine in under ten minutes and now our sleazy boss is here to keep you company. REAAAALLY don’t think I’m overreacting here.”

“Well you are.” Lute slammed her hand down on the counter.

Vaggie eyed the hand Lute had slammed on the counter, sighing exasperated. She pinched the bridge of her nose, weighing out whether or not this whole argument was worth her life.

On one hand, she hated the thought of just leaving Lute in the gross incapable wandering hands of their boss.

On the other… She didn’t feel like it was necessarily worth it lingering either. Especially when Lute was the first person to kiss up to said gross incapable boss.

Didn’t mean she deserved to get taken advantage of. Or WORSE. She’d get drunk and start punching people.

Then all the exorcists would be put through it Monday morning.

“Fine, you wanna drink yourself silly for whatever reason? Do it. But you know where to find me if you need me.” Vaggie turned away from the bar, making her way out into the crowd to try and enjoy herself as best she could the remainder of the night.

Lute hissed as she watched Vaggie go, her eyes narrowing. 

How DARE her. The audacity.

She could have a good time! She could cut loose! …If she wanted to.

She yelped, startled at a loud thud on the counter behind her. She whirled around, saluting and standing at attention quickly when her eyes glimpsed Adam’s robes.

“SIR!”

“Geez, at ease, Lute!” Adam laughed, sliding a new red cup towards her.

“What’s this I hear about you slamming back ten glasses of wine in less than ten minutes? What’s happened to Sergeant Sober?”

Lute lowered her hand and, ignoring Adam’s question, grabbed the cup and inspected the liquid inside. It was clear and bubbly, with a thin slice of lime floating on top of the ice.

“What’s this?”

“Vodka, soda and lime. Not something I’d drink myself, but considering you don-“ Adam’s eyes widened as she lifted the cup to her lips and began drinking.

And she didn’t stop until she’d downed the whole damn thing.

“More.”

Adam ran his hand through his hair. Fuck. She was really doing this. Then again, it was Lute. She was a go hard or go home kind of gal. Scratch that - she was just the type to go hard.

There was no going home with her.

Unless…

There was a part of him that wanted her to let loose. The selfish part of him wanted Lute to drink herself silly with him, keep up with him drink-for-drink, get on the dance floor and grind until…

“I said more, Sir.”

Adam shook his head and tossed all thoughts of grinding with Lute aside as she threw her empty cup at him.

“Shit, alright, calm down. Hey - where did Vaggie go?”

Lute’s head whipped around towards the crowd. While she wasn’t looking, Adam quickly refilled her cup with water and plonked it in front of her. She turned back and without looking, gulped down the drink.

She was lost in her thoughts, visibly perturbed at Adam’s inquiries to where Vaggie went.

Why did he care if Vaggie was there anyway? Probably so he could fucking goad them into making out or something. As if they were that close anymore anyway- 

She paused, pulling the cup away from her lips and looking at it, then looking at Adam incredulously.

It was distinctly not the same drink he’d offered her before. It was watered down. 

Wait. It was water.

“Sir. This isn’t what you gave me last time.”

Adam raised his brows, scratching the stubble on his jaw as he tried to play dumb.

“What? It’s not?” He grabbed the cup from her, pretending to investigate the contents.

“SURE it is! You questioning my judgment?”

Lute blinked as he handed the cup back. “I would never-“

“GREAT!” Adam launched himself back over the bar, arm wrapping around his lieutenant’s shoulders as he looked out on the party.

Lute felt her face heat up once again. Although, she was BLAMING the alcohol. Yes! It was the alcohol’s fault. Not… proximity.

She cleared her throat, the hint of a small smile touching the corners of her mouth.

“Look at what we did, Lute.” Adam squeezed Lute’s shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her head, pride radiating through his body.

He gestured with his other hand to the crowd of dancing angels in front of him.

“Everyone is here having a kick-ass time because of what we’ve built. You and me. So, if you’re really serious about celebrating… then let’s get fucked up!” He let go of Lute’s shoulder and turned to the bartender, grinning.

“Two tequila shots, thanks.”

“Salt and lime?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Adam looked over at his lieutenant, who had joined him at the bar and was tightly gripping the edge of the counter. “Lute, you all good?”

She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Of course. Why do you ask, Sir?”

“You look like you’re trying to flip the bar counter. Are you trying to start a riot?”

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands and let go. “I’m fine.”

Ah. There was some of that defiance he knew and loved.

“I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing.” She frowned and glared up at him.

Adam grinned down at her, accepting the shot glasses from the bartender. “There’s my girl. Anyway, you ever done one of these before?”

Lute shook her head. “No, Sir.”

“Alright, repeat after me. Lick,” He held the saltshaker up. 

“Shoot,” he pointed to the shot glass.

“And suck.” He lifted the small plate of lime wedges before setting it back down on the bar counter.

“Lick, shoot, suck.” Lute echoed, the faint smile returning to her face again, accompanied by a slight blush.

Shit, why did that make his head spin?. He was definitely feeling buzzed.

“Damn, Lutie-cutie, I love it when you talk dirty.” His remark was met with a quick jab in the ribs. “Ow! Alright, alright. You ready? Watch me first.” He grabbed her wrist and sprinkled salt over it.

Without warning, he licked the salt off her bare skin, threw back the shot and grabbed a lime wedge, popping it in his mouth.

“Uhh… Sir?” Lute looked down at her wrist, nose wrinkling in confusion.

“Oh yeah, you can’t go wrong with one of these. Your turn. I’ll even get the lime ready for you so you don’t have to worry.” Grabbing the salt shaker again, he shook it over his own wrist this time. He then handed Lute the shot and picked up the lime slice. Grinning, he held his wrist out to her. “Ready, babe?”

Lute’s eyes darted between the shot, Adam’s face, and the salt on his wrist. She was trying to make peace with the agreement she’d made. An understanding that she would need to lick salt off of his wrist was something she was finding incredibly hard to wrap her mind around.

There was a level of forbidden about the concept of her consuming anything off of her boss’ body. One that she couldn’t tell made it more enticing or more shameful.

Maybe both?

Even still… she wasn’t about to say no.

Lick, shoot, suck. Lick, shoot, suck. Lick, shoot suck.

That was all she needed to do. Three simple things.

The logistics of which were all getting scrambled in her mind. What was the order?

LICK. SHOOT. SUCK.

EASY.

Her heart pounded against her sternum, her body frozen for a half a second as she considered and reconsidered the ramifications of the actions she was about to take.

SCREW RAMIFICATIONS. Adam was watching her expectantly. Waiting expectantly.

She grabbed Adam’s hand and pulled it to her mouth just as she heard him start to ask a question. She licked up the salt, tossing Adam’s arm away as she whirled to grab the shot and knock it back.

Her eyes widened and she recoiled as the taste hit her, pushing away from the counter and the lime in Adam’s hand.

Fuck!

She held the liquid- no, poison- in her mouth for a half a second as she tried to consider whether or not to swallow or spit it out.

She was vaguely aware of Adam gesturing with his hands in her direction. Though, the obnoxious music muffled whatever he was exclaiming in the moment.

SHOOT THE LIME.

Lute forced herself to swallow, spinning around and nearly crashing into Adam. She frantically grabbed his other wrist, trying to wrestle the lime free of his grip.

“Shit - Lute - what are you doing?” Adam laughed, the smaller angel trying to pry each individual finger off the lime wedge in his hand. “Don’t fuck around with it, just shove it in your mouth!” He let go of the fruit and watched her desperately suck the wedge, her jaw working overtime to extract every last drop of juice from the lime.

He couldn’t deny it was kinda hot. 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Better?” She nodded and took the wedge from her lips, depositing it onto the plate Adam had taken it off. “Well,” he cleared his throat, starting to feel the effect of the shot he’d taken only minutes earlier. “That… did not go as I had expected.”

“Why?” Lute frowned. “Did I do something wrong? Should we do another one?” Her eyes darted frantically towards the bar.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a giant nope from me, babe.” Adam shook his head fervently and stepped between Lute and the bar.

One tequila shot down and she was already trying to wrestle him. If she had another she might try and… Well. He wouldn’t mind that. Especially considering she’d finally ditched the chain mail that usually covered her neck and collarbone, leaving them temptingly bare.

“I could handle another one. You don’t think I could?” She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him.

“Lute, if there is anybody who I think could do it, it’s you. All I’m saying is, let’s take a break. We can have another one later.”

Lute said nothing.

“Luteyyyyy.” He teased, moving closer to her, not stopping until their bodies were virtually touching. 

“Come on.” He snaked an arm around her waist and bent down to whisper in her ear. He felt her body immediately tense, the heat rising in her cheeks practically radiating off her.

“If you take a break for a little while, you can come back and do another one later. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you do it off my chest.” He heard her breath hitch in her throat and without even looking at her he knew her face was several shades brighter than the sun itself.

He grinned to himself and gave her waist a little squeeze. She was stupidly cute when she got herself all flustered and being under the influence of alcohol just seemed to amplify it.

“Right, hold tight babe. After all these years, it’s finally happening. You and me, we’re hitting the dance floor!” In one swift motion, he hoisted her up over his shoulder and strode out to the packed crowd, Lute’s protests drowned out by the thumping music.

Lute propped herself up with her arms, doing her best to wriggle off of his shoulder as she was unwillingly carried to the dance floor.

Normally, she might’ve protested more. But the alcohol, admittedly, was beginning to get to her, if not entirely overwhelm her.

Her self-restraint was reasonably inhibited at the very least. At the most? She was pleasantly numb. And for once… that was nice? 

She didn’t have to worry about the stack of paperwork or what the seraphim might say if they heard about this party in the morning.

She could just… exist and do what she wanted.

In other words, she found herself giddy, a small giggle escaping her lips as she was carried on.

“Sir. I… can’t dance.” Or at least she’d never danced before to her knowledge. Never mind whatever… dancing was being done in that moment.

She felt the world spin as she felt Adam whip her off his shoulder, nearly stumbling backwards as she landed unsteadily on her feet. Adam caught her hand, pulling her back into him.

“What? That’s fucking ridiculous. ANYONE and their mother can dance if they want to.” He placed his other hand on her waist to steady her.

She felt her face heat up again, very aware of the close proximity of their bodies.

She didn’t pull back though.

“… I’ll follow you.”

Adam pulled a smirk, bringing his hand up to tap near her ear.

“Just listen to the music. Move with the beat!” He started sliding side to side, his movements getting gradually more overt the longer the song carried on.

She watched him, trying to copy, her brows furrowed in concentration. Every so often her eyes would flick to his face, looking for reassurance that she was doing it right.

She apparently was not, given he chuckled and shook his head. Or she assumed he chuckled at least. She could barely hear him over the music.

“Dangertits! You need to LOOSEN. UP. Here-“ He moved to stand behind her, his hands finding her hips and applying just enough pressure for her to get the hint that she needed to move.

She stiffened briefly as she felt his chin near her ear, his hot breath on her neck.

“Move WITH me, not against me. Come on you’re stiff as a board.” He moved his hand up the tiniest bit, cackling as her wings tried to flap involuntarily but were kept immobile by his proximity.

In her defense she wasn’t really listening to the music. She couldn’t really hear over the roaring of her heart in her ears.

Was she breathing? 

Air might be good.

She took a very loud, deep breath. 

“Sorry S-IR!” She was cut off as Adam took her hand and spun her very quickly, only to immediately snap her back towards him before she had any time to process what was going on.

“There we go! Get those feet going!”

A laugh erupted from Lute’s lips as she was spun around again.

“Sir!”

Adam snickered, his arms coming around to trap her against him as her momentum carried them close once more. 

His mouth found her ear so that she could hear him. 

“Did I just hear the most badass bitch in the army laugh? No blood? No guts? Just laugh on the dance floor?”

Lute felt his arms hold her firmly in place and without thinking she lifted her feet off the floor to test just how tight his hold was. Like a child might with their parent. 

It was something she would’ve NEVER tried if she was sober.

Then again… if she was sober there was no way in heaven OR hell she’d allow him to be this close to her in a public space.

She felt her face heat up again as his stubble grazed against her cheek, her heart rocketing away at the contact and pressure.

She realized she hadn’t answered his question, her toes tapping back on the floor as she shook her head.

“I can laugh at things that aren’t death!” She argued, another smaller giggle erupting as Adam all but tossed her away from him again.

“I’ve certainly never seen it before.” He argued, drawing her back into his chest, this time they were facing each other though.

Lute paused, her eyes wide as she looked up at her commanding officer.

She wasn’t breathing again. 

LUNGS WORK.

The look on Lute’s face as she gazed up at him was certainly something Adam had never seen before, either.

Really, there had been a lot of firsts during this year’s Victory concert: 

It was the first time Lute had gone without her armor that she never left home without.  

It was the first time Lute decided to drink at the annual party.   

It was the first time Lute danced.  

And, unless he was reading the situation horribly wrong, Adam was about ninety-nine percent certain that this would be the moment he’d kiss Lute for the first time. 

And it was all he could think about as he stared intensely back at her.

Even in the dimly lit room, he could see her usually bright eyes had melted into golden pools of honey, a depth to them that kept dragging him in. There was no escape, no chance of looking away, even if he wanted to.

She was all he could focus on.  

What else could he possibly think about, besides the way she was looking up at him? Wide-eyed, lips slightly parted, that ridiculously cute blush spreading across her cheeks again.

He was sure she’d stopped breathing by the way he’d felt her chest swell against his body as she inhaled, the exhale never coming as her breath hitched in her throat. Her body, usually so incredibly tense and rigid, was soft and relaxed as he held her tightly against his front. 

She was practically melting into him.  

Not that he could judge her in the slightest. He’d melt into himself too, if it were humanly possible.

Could she feel how clammy his hand was? Their fingers intertwined, his thumb now absentmindedly tracing small circles onto the back of her hand.

Did she feel like they were the only two angels in the room, too? Or was that the tequila talking?  

“Hey, Lute?” He murmured, leaning in closer, his forehead basically touching hers. He heard a barely audible gasp escape her lips, her chest pressing harder into his as she drew her breath in.

“Can I – ouch!”  

The moment was shattered as Lute’s forehead was suddenly knocked into his, the impact of the bump causing him to see stars.

He blinked once, twice, three times, trying to rid himself of the golden flecks dancing across his line of vision.  

Fucking hell, he had been so close! Whoever that little cockblocker was, he was going to tear them a new asshole as soon as he could see properly again.  

“Fucking watch where you’re dancing, bitch!”  

Or not. It seemed that Lute – sweet, blushing, breathless Lute was going to do it for him.

In a single instant Lute’s entire demeanor shifted. The jolt that had come from behind the catalyst to her rage.

She had been AT PEACE. She had been dare she say… happy? Relaxed even? It was as if no one else was with them, no one else mattered to Adam except her.

It felt like SHE was the center of someone’s world. And the elation that came with it was indescribable.

Which was exactly why the abrupt shift had been intense and irreparable.

She pulled away from Adam, whirling around to face the unlucky exorcist who had been stupid enough to bump into them.

Logic would dictate they were all drunk, it was a public place, they were bound to collide with others.

Lute did not have logic on her side anymore.

The tequila and wine had effectively told logic to take a hike. Which was… not great considering she was a tiny bit unhinged in the best of times.

What was worse, is the exorcist who had bumped into them was fucking Layla.

Lute grit her teeth, shoving Layla with as much strength as she could muster, sending the girl flying into the crowd, knocking at least three other girls down like they were bowling pins.

Her wings twitched, half-spreading in a threat.

“Dance somewhere else!”

Vaggie, who had been passively keeping an eye on her more uptight sister from the other side of the room, scrambled over, pushing through the crowd to stop… whatever it is this was.

She was pretty sure it was gonna be a murder though if she didn’t step in.

No way Adam was going to be any help.

In fact, he’d probably egg it on. 

She jumped in front of Lute, arms stopping her from moving any further towards poor Layla.

“Woah! Woah. Uh- how about we step out and fucking cool DOWN? This isn’t the place to pick fights.”

Lute shot Vaggie a look that said she wanted to maim her in some gruesome and horrible way. 

The look was ignored.

“Get. Your hands off of me.” Lute hissed, pulling back away from Vaggie, stumbling into Adam as she did so.

“Ugh - shit! Hey, Lutey,” Adam caught her around the waist with one hand before she fell, bringing the other up over her front, trapping her arms by her side so she couldn’t use them to hurt anybody.

Or him, for that matter.

“Wanna go grab some water and just chillax outside for a sec?” Selfishly, he also wouldn’t mind trying to recreate what had almost happened earlier, without the risk of another interruption.  

She struggled against him, thrashing violently to escape his hold on her, elbows bending and colliding with his stomach, attempting to throw him off her.

“Let – me – go!”  

Vaggie glared at Adam. 

“She needs to go home. She’s going to end up butchering somebody in a minute.” She narrowed her eyes further at Adam and put her hands on her hips. “This is all your fault.”  

“My fault?!” Adam cried incredulously, wincing slightly as Lute stomped down on his foot. “I didn’t do anything! You’re the one who let her drink eighteen glasses of wine before I got to her!”  

“And you thought tequila, of all things, would be a good way to wash all that down?”  

If Vaggie wasn’t careful, he was going to put her on fucking toilet cleaning duty come Monday morning. What was it with these warrior chicks and their smartass mouths?! If it wasn’t Lute sassing him, it was this one getting her panties in a twist about… well, everything.  

“Look,” he started angrily, shifting Lute to the side as she started kicking backwards, clearly hoping to make contact where she knew it would hurt. Bitch. “I don’t fucking care how she got to this point, scissor sister. I just need to get her home, to bed.”  

Vaggie balled her hands into fists. “I saw you two before Layla bumped into Lute. There’s no fucking way in Hell I’m letting you take her anywhere. Alone.”  

“Why, you wanna join in?” Adam taunted, squeezing Lute harder. He felt her body soften with the pressure, and he gently rubbed the shoulder he was holding, a silent ‘thank you’ for finally calming down. “If that’s the case, all you have to do is ask.”

Vaggie’s eyebrow twitched at the very notion that Adam would invite her back with them. Which only FURTHER sealed in her mind that she could not and WOULD NOT let her sworn sister, be it Lute or anyone else, go with him that night.

Disgusting excuse for a first man.

“I’d rather stab my eyes out with forks.”

She glanced at Lute, who for the moment was calm, but seemed a hair’s breadth away from popping off again.

The lieutenant was peering at Adam from the corner of her eye. Her brows furrowed in concentration. 

Though what she was concentrating on, Vaggie hadn’t the slightest clue.

She grabbed Lute’s wrist, pulling her free of Adam’s grasp and towards her.

“Uh, Lute.” She placed her hands on either one of the lieutenant’s shoulders and lowered her tone so that Adam could barely hear over the music.

“I REALLY think you should just get yourself as far away from this pervert as you can and sleep this off.”

Lute made a face, pulling away from Vaggie.

“Like I said earlier, I’m fine.”

Vaggie couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“And unlike earlier, I am not going to let you go ANYWHERE with this sleezeball alone.”

Lute waved her hand, the action uncoordinated and flippant.

“We’ve been alone together plenty of times before-“

“But not while you were drunk and certainly not while HE was drunk. Look I’m just saying you’re not able to think clearly-“

“Don’t question me!” Lute snapped, swatting Vaggie as she turned back to grab Adam’s hand.

“If the commander is going to fuck me on the table then we’ll fuck on the table!”

“What the…” Adam trailed off, eyes darting back and forth between Vaggie, who looked like she wanted to be sick, and Lute, who was tugging insistently on his hand towards…  

…a booth.  

Oh, shit. She wasn’t kidding.  

“You know what?” Vaggie threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “I give up. I don’t care anymore. You two do whatever the hell you want to each other.” She started off towards the bar before turning back and facing Lute.

“What you just said makes me want to drink bleach. But it sounds like you’ve made up your mind, and I can’t stop you from making shitty decisions. If you need me though, you call me right away. I mean it, Lute.” She threw a filthy look Adam’s way and stalked away, muttering further under her breath in Spanish so neither of them could understand her.  

Adam cleared his throat and turned his attention to Lute, who hadn’t stopped pulling at him. “Lute. Stop for a sec, babe.”  

She listened, her grip loosening as she looked up at him expectantly. Adam swallowed nervously, his hands clammy once again. He’d be a liar if he said that he didn’t love the idea of taking her there and then on the table in front of everybody. 

Or against the table. Or from behind as he bent her over the tab-  

Not the time, dickhead!  

“I’m taking you home.” he said firmly, grabbing her other hand and squeezing both of her hands with his. “You’ve had enough. Fuck, I’ve had enough, and that’s saying something. I’m going to make sure you’re home safe, and I’ll stay with you until I’m satisfied that you’re not going to choke on your own vomit once the high inevitably wears off and you start feeling like shit.”

Lute tried yanking her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t want to go home. Let’s just stay here and – ” She was cut off as Adam tightened his grip.  

“That’s a fucking order, Lieutenant. I’d think long and hard about your next move.”  

Not one to disobey her commander, Lute fell silent.

Adam seized the opportunity to pull her closer, one hand holding her firmly around the waist, the other finding the back of her head.He grabbed a fistful of hair and firmly tugged her head back, her head tilting upwards, bright eyes wide once again. He lowered his eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing slightly against her skin as he pressed his cheek roughly to hers, mouth finding her ear.  

He felt her inhale and forget to exhale again, hands fisted in his robes.  

“Then, you and I are going to have a little chat about saying things that we don’t mean. Understood?” He whispered angrily.

Lute swallowed, her eyes widening as she felt his mouth against her ear.

It wasn’t often Adam got mad. Even more rare that it was directed at her. And that stung.

She’d be lying if she didn’t think the whole interaction was… the tiniest bit hot though.

“Yes, Sir.” She responded, ducking her head low when he let her go, shame smacking into her with the force of a train.

She looked at no one, and said nothing as they left the party, following closely behind her commanding officer.

Once they were alone and outside of the venue Lute lifted her head, glancing at Adam to see if she could read his body language. Something that was easier said than done given she could hardly walk a straight line and consistently bumped into him as they moved.

Even still, he was stiff, his long strides carrying him quickly down the decently empty promenade. His grip on her hand was tighter then she would’ve liked it to be.

Oh crap! The seraphim would KNOW she was drunk! She puffed her chest out, trying even harder than she had been to walk in a straight line, her eyes darting around the sky, looking for open windows in the taller buildings.

If there was anytime when Sera would spot them, it was then.

They were done for. She was going to get written up!!!

She felt Adam yank on her arm, jarring her from her particularly panicked thoughts.

She was going to get written up AND Adam was mad at her. This was the WORST FUCKING NIGHT!!!

She wanted to cry.

The walk back to the barracks and her apartment was the longest walk. Not just because she kept stopping, and bumping into him.

WHY WAS IT SO HARD TO WALK?

She doubted flying would be any easier though. The last thing they needed was to fall out of the sky because she crashed into the side of a building.

The longer Adam was silent, the more anxious Lute remained.

Okay… table sex is not something she should EVER SUGGEST EVER in the future.

He was never going to trust her again. She was going to get demoted. He’d probably promote Layla…

She crashed into him when he stopped at her door, bouncing back and saluting.

“SORRY SIR.”

Adam ignored her.  

“In,” he growled, pointing at the door. “Now.”  

Lute shakily dropped her hand from her forehead and produced her key from her pocket.

Adam plucked it from her hand and swiftly unlocked the door, guiding her inside. If he let her try and do it, they’d be out there all night, given how she could barely walk home in a straight line. And he did not have the patience to watch her repeatedly try and fit her key into the keyhole.  

The first thing he noticed about Lute’s apartment wasn’t that it was spotless, or that there was no visible clutter – unlike his own home, which was practically littered with random bits and bobs. Or even that she had very little decor adorning the walls and surfaces. 

No. It was her dining table, which was devoid of any decorations and looked very inviting.

Suppressing the urge to take her up on the offer she’d made at the party, he remembered his annoyance with her. He grabbed both of her shoulders and steered her towards her couch instead.  

“Sit down.”  

She obediently dropped onto the two-seater, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

He went into her kitchen and opened cupboards, muttering to himself in irritation as he struggled to locate her drinking glasses. After finally finding them on his fourth attempt, he filled them both with water and joined Lute on the couch, handing her one as he sat.

She accepted, still silent, staring down into the glass  

“Drink.” He raised his own glass to his lips, an invitation for her to do the same.

She took a small sip, finally meeting his eyes.  

Shit. Adam felt a tiny pang in his chest at the way she was frowning at him. He knew what that look meant - she was embarrassed.  

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there?” he asked sternly.

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the glass tighter.  

“Um…” Was all she could muster, face flushing as she turned away from him.

“I…” She quickly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and puffed her cheeks.

What was she supposed to say??? If she admitted she had genuinely wanted him to take her on the table, he would be mad given that was the thing that started this mess.

If she tried to cover, and just say she was drunk, which she was, he would be mad.

She didn’t know how to navigate this without Adam being upset with her in some manner. And that fact unnerved her more than anything else.

She didn’t want him to hate her. She very much did NOT want him to hate her.

She took a shaky breath, her teeth clamping down on the edge of the glass as she raised it to her mouth again to drink.

And, as she still was buying for time, she downed the entire contents of the glass.

Shoot. Now what?

She set the glass on the coffee table in front of them, her motion stiff and robotic.

Then she exhaled the air she’d been holding, cracking the knuckles in her fingers and wrists as she looked around the room for a sign, an answer to why she had ever let herself suggest they have sex on the table.

The thought of which was still teasing her… especially as her own table caught her eye.

Fuck! She was so hot.

“I- um…” She swallowed, pressing her lips together.

Her hands were so sweaty.

“I…” She was going to melt if she didn’t do something!

“Give me one moment Sir. I just…” She shifted in her seat, pulling her tunic up over her head, only for her to struggle getting it off.

WHY WAS HER COORDINATION SO AWFUL!?

“Lute,” Adam sighed, taking in the sight of her with her tunic stuck over her head, shoulders hunched forward, arms tangled awkwardly in the material. “What are you doing?” It was hard to stay too mad at her when she looked so fucking ridiculous. There was a muffled reply from beneath the fabric that he couldn’t quite make out. “Do…” he cleared his throat. “Do you need help with that?”  

Lute managed to pop her head through the neck of the tunic, exhaling loudly.

“No, Sir,” she breathed, freeing her arms and depositing the garment on the floor next to her couch. Smoothing her tousled platinum hair out of her face, she grabbed Adam’s glass of water and downed it in one gulp.

It wasn’t hard to notice that she was flustered. Her face was a brilliant shade of gold, spreading from the apples of her cheeks right down her neck and spilling over her chest. She kept rubbing her hands on her legs like there was something unpleasant on them that she desperately needed to wipe off.

Not to mention the fact that her breathing was oddly erratic - she was practically panting.

He just couldn’t figure out why she was so worked up. Adam cocked his eyebrow at her, his irritation slowly but surely being replaced by mild amusement at how out of sorts she was. “Better?”  

“Um,” she bit her lip nervously and turned her head to stare towards her dining table.

Adam felt his chest tighten as he followed her gaze. Oh. That damn table was going to taunt him all night, and now it really wasn’t helping knowing she was clearly thinking about it, too. He wondered if it was for the same reason it was playing on his mind.

“Not really, no. It’s so hot in here.” She exhaled pointedly, and she looked so incredibly bothered now that Adam couldn’t hold his grudge any longer.

Her eyes were darting nervously around the room, hands running through her already messy hair and clutching at her flushed skin. A lot more skin than what he was used to her showing, Adam reminded himself. She puffed her cheeks like she always did when she couldn’t get her words out properly and stood, stumbling slightly as she started pacing.  

“Lutey,” he started, chuckling. How could he possibly stay mad at her? She was being completely ridiculous now, which was so fucking endearing to him. He liked how that made him feel, how a warmth was starting to spread in his chest and extend down into his abdomen. Or, it could just be the alcohol talking. “Lute, come here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto the couch.

He had intended for her to fall back where she’d originally been sitting, but he must have been drunker than he realized because he’d incorrectly gauged where she was going to land and pulled her right into his lap.For the third time that night, she grabbed the front of his robes in her fists. He felt his own breathing quicken in anticipation, his hands gravitating to her waist like they had each time they’d been close earlier that night.

His hands spread around the curve of her figure, just a sheer piece of fabric separating him from feeling her bare skin. “Hey,” he said, squeezing her gently. “You all good?”  

“Uh-huh.” Her bright eyes bored into his own, blazing, determined not to break contact.  

“Good,” he whispered, absentmindedly running the tips of his fingers up and down the side of her body.  

For several seconds, neither of them spoke or moved, an unfamiliar tension in the air hanging thickly between them. Neither of them broke eye contact with the other as they kept staring, both determinedly playing a silent game of chicken. Waiting to see who would be the first to break.  

It was Lute who folded.  

“Oh, fuck this.” she groaned suddenly, and before Adam could react, she’d pulled on his robes to close the gap between their mouths and kissed him, not holding back as she took control. She devoured him with the same manner as she approached her work: hard, fast and with reckless abandon.

Her hands quickly found their way onto his neck and into his hair, her lips never leaving his as she hungrily explored every inch of his mouth with her tongue like her life depended on it.

She tasted like tequila, lime, red wine, pure adrenaline and… the blood of the hundreds of sinners she’d slayed earlier that day?

Ow. No, scratch that, it was his blood. She’d just kissed him so fucking intensely that she’d bit his lip. 

Now that was hot.

“So,” Adam rasped when they finally broke for air, head spinning, his mouth surely bruised, “does this mean you were serious about – about the table? Back at the party?”  

She nodded, biting her now-swollen lip as she backed up off him, tugging on his hand so he also rose from the couch, leading him towards her dining table. 

“Oh, no, babe,” he grinned as he realized what she was doing, hoisting her onto his hips, her legs instinctively wrapping around his body. If she thought she was calling all the shots, she had another thing coming.  

Lute involuntarily let out a small gasp of surprise as he lifted her body against his, lacing her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn.”  

“But I- ”

He silenced her protests with his mouth, his kiss softer and slower in comparison to hers. He could feel her frustration at his deliberate pace as she tried to dominate him, her hands gripping his neck tightly as she began responding fiercely, her lips fighting his to take over.

“Nuh-uh,” he tutted against her mouth, taking a step towards the table. “What did I just say, Lieutenant?” He pulled back ever so slightly, smirking as he felt her exhale in frustration, her breath hot and heavy against his face.  

“It’s your turn, sir,” she panted shakily.  

“You’ve always been a fast learner.” He rewarded her with another long, lingering kiss as he backed her towards the table, stumbling slightly as he accidentally bumped into a wall. “Such a good girl you are, Lute.”  

She whimpered as his mouth met hers again, her fingernails dragging against his scalp as she entwined her fingers in his hair, his praise clearly turning her on - which, in turn, drove him fucking crazy.

He quickened his pace, kissing her with a fierce intensity that he was no longer able to contain. Setting her down on the edge of the table, he pulled his mouth away and leaned his forehead against hers to catch a quick breath.

The whole room was spinning around them, but he didn’t care.  

“By the way,” he whispered as he steadied himself, dipping his head to gently press his lips at the hollow of her neck,

“I don’t believe I’ve told you how hot you look tonight. Or every day, for that matter. How rude of me.” His hands found their way up underneath her underdress, feeling their way up her back until they discovered her bra strap, which he fumbled with clumsily until the clasp broke free.

“So fucking sexy,” he murmured against her throat, his hands now free to roam her upper back, taking in her hard muscles, the soft indents of her countless battle scars, the sensitive flesh where her skin met the base of her wings.Lute moaned in response, the vibration tickling Adam’s lips as they trailed down her neck and across her collarbone. 

The sound she’d made… fuck, that sound alone was enough to make him explode, which was a dangerous thought, given how hard his dick was straining against his pants. His mouth found hers once more, now frantic and desperate. His hands groped at her ass, pressing her body tightly against his hips, rocking forward firmly so she could feel how badly he needed her.

The message seemed to ring loud and clear as Lute’s fingers hastily located the buttons of his robe and fumbled with them, trying in vain to undo them.  

“Sorry, Sir,” she murmured against his mouth as she struggled, “I guess I’m a little drunk.”  

“A little drunk?” he laughed huskily, catching her bottom lip with his teeth and tugging it playfully as he reached his hands up to help her with his buttons. “Babe, we’re absolutely fucking wasted.”  

Then it hit him. They were wasted.

This wasn’t right – as much as every fiber of his being wanted to follow through with Lute’s declaration back at the party, as much as it went against every instinct of his to stop what they were doing, he couldn’t continue. Not like this when they were both in the wrong frame of mind.

He didn’t want her to wake up the next morning and resent him for it or think something had happened that she wasn’t okay with.  

He didn’t want her regretting it.  

“Lute, babe,” his hands closed around hers as he painfully stepped back slowly from her, his whole body crying out in protest. “We need to stop now before we get too carried away.”

Lute’s jaw dropped.

Shock and confusion clear and evident on her face, in her eyes. Her brows furrowed as she felt the space between them grow wider.

Her hands reached out, clinging to his robe in some desperate attempt to bring him back.

He wasn’t serious.

They couldn’t just STOP??? NOT NOW!

She scooted forward on the table, her feet latching onto him in a similar, desperate manner that her hands did.

She was going to fall off the edge of the table if she wasn’t careful-

“Sir? But-“ She closed her mouth, her eyes darting back and forth as she internally sorted through the steps that had been taken to get them there.

She NEEDED them to keep going.

“We could just- we don’t have to be on the table.” She pulled him close again, her hips bucking the moment she felt him against her once more.

He exhaled deeply, his hands coming to rest at her sides as she pulled him back into a desperate kiss.

He pulled back, turning his head and bringing his hands up to take her wrists.

“What? No! No. Lute-“ He shook his head, running a hand through his hair and messing it up further.

“That’s not the fucking issue here. We’re not doing this! You’re going to bed, I’m gonna hit the couch. We’re gonna sleep this off so we don’t regret it in the morning.”

Lute’s face fell, the rejection impaling her like an icepick through her chest.

Any other fucking exorcist and he’d have taken them on the couch, on the table, on the chair-

Why couldn’t he do the same for her?

What was it about her that was just SO unappealing that he refused to cross that professional line?

She sat on the edge of the table, watching him shuffle towards the hall. He stopped and turned to look at her, apparently he had realized she wasn’t following.

He looked annoyed.

GOOD.

She was annoyed too.

She folded her arms in an indignant huff as she slid off the table, her feet just barely landing solidly on the floor beneath her.

“You’re really gonna sit there and fucking pout in the kitchen?”

She didn’t respond, she just continued to glare.

He looked at her flatly, walking back to grab her arm and usher her towards the bedroom.“You need to go to bed. I need to go to bed. Stop making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“You’re that tired all of a sudden?”

“Lute, look how fucking hard I am right now, you REALLY think I just wanna go to bed for the hell of it? I’m TRYING to be the responsible one here!”

He pulled her down the hall, peeking his head into the first two doors until he found her bedroom.

“I’m not going to sleep, Sir.”

He looked at her flatly.

She stared back at him, every ounce of defiance she could muster in her golden eyes as she stood firmly rooted in place.

After a moment of neither one of them daring to move, Lute realized her bra was still haphazardly on. She maintained eye contact as she blindly tried to remove the straps and take it off, her expression DARING Adam to try and stop her.

After struggling for a substantial amount of time she finally managed to slip the garment off, tossing it into the hallway behind them.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed.”

“No, Sir.” she stated, staring him down as she then removed her pants, falling into the wall as she struggled to get the article of clothing off. Once she did she triumphantly tossed them behind her, hands on her hips, chest puffed out.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, frustrated.  

Frustrated that it turned out that he had a conscience – where the fuck had that come from? – and stopped himself before they christened Lute’s dining table blind drunk.  

Frustrated with the fact that Lute wouldn’t go to fucking bed.  

Frustrated with the fact that instead of doing her bra up like a normal person would in this situation, she’d chosen instead to take it off, followed by her pants.  

Frustrated with the fact that her stupid underdress was see-through – seriously, what was the fucking point of it, anyway? – and now he had her standing defiantly opposite him, hands on hips, tits proudly on display beneath the sheer fabric as she stared him down.  

As if he didn’t have a fucking tent pitched under his robe as it was, she had the audacity to go and tease him like this. She knew exactly what she was doing.  

Bitch.  

“You were saying, Sir?” she smirked, attempting to brace herself on the wall but her hand slipped, causing her to stumble slightly. If she wasn’t irritating him so much, he’d find her newfound cocky bravado somewhat adorable.  

“Bed.” Was all he could muster as he stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to let his eyes cast downwards at her body. Because, shit, she really did have a great rack.

No wonder he’d nicknamed her Dangertits. Somebody could very well die being suffocated by those things.  

It’d suck balls to die and all, but man, what a fucking way to go.  

“Make me, Sir.”  

Adam’s head snapped back to its normal position, his gaze meeting hers once more. She continued to bore her eyes into his, silently daring him to defy her.  

He wasn’t going to fall for it. If he challenged her, she’d probably sprint away from him, and he was too drunk to be able to confidently catch her.

“If that’s what it takes, fine.” He strode towards her – still avoiding looking at her body anywhere below her chin level – and without warning, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, one burly arm wrapped around her waist.

Like a ragdoll.  

“Are you coming to bed, too?” she asked as he carried her into her bedroom, shutting the door with his free hand behind them. Knowing her as well as he did, if he left the door open she’d sprint out of the room the first opportunity she got.  

“No,” he answered, setting her down on her bed clumsily.

“I’m going to go and sleep on the couch.”

Lute flapped her wings once to balance herself once she lifted herself into a seated position on the bed.

Not that it worked. It was like she was on a boat, every correction she’d made to try and stay upright pushed her too far in the other direction.

Had she not been so sexually frustrated with Adam, she would’ve been more irritated by her inability to keep herself steady.

She thrust her hand outward as she fell forward, catching Adam by his robe before he could pull back fully.

Their faces were close again.

“You choose now in your immortal life to be responsible??” NOW of all times???

If she had been the sober one he’d be making dumb reckless choice after dumb reckless choice. But because SHE was also drunk he was deciding that it was his turn to be a gentleman???

What if she didn’t want him to be a gentleman!? Which she didn’t. She wanted him to fuck her right there and then!

She felt his hot breath against her face as he sighed and looked skyward again. Letting go of his robes, she grabbed his chin, turning it down so their eyes met.

“Shit! Lute come on I’m doing my best here! You’re not thinking right. I’m not thinking right and you’re REALLY pushing it babe.”

She pulled him into another sloppy kiss. “I don’t want you to do your best. I want you to fuck me-“

“Go to sleep.”

“No, Sir.”

“Babe. I’m not fucking around. You. Need. To. Sleep.”    

“And I’m not fucking around. I. Want. To. Fuck. You.” Lute punctuated her latter declaration with a short kiss to Adam’s lips after each word.

“Hard. Fast. Here. On the table. My couch. I don’t care where or how, I just know that it’s what I want – and from what I felt back on the table – ” Lute’s eyes moved down Adam’s chest, towards his lower body,

“ – you wanted it too.” She flushed slightly and bit her lip.   

Dammit, she looked so fucking hot when she did that!

He was this close to throwing responsibility out the window. One more, if she told him how badly she wanted him one more time…  

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to collect his thoughts, needed to talk himself out of giving in to what he really wanted to do.  

He needed to think non-sexy thoughts.  

Paperwork. Hard paperwork – no! Not the word hard. Shit. Difficult – yes, that was better. Difficult paperwork. Lute helping with the paperwork. Lute leaning over his desk, wearing the same sheer underdress so he could see her – fuck! Okay, thinking about paperwork wasn’t going to cut it.  

Sera! Sera wasn’t sexy. Sera was a giraffe lady, who liked to write him up constantly for bullshit reasons. Like sleeping during Court. And pranking Lute during meetings.

Really, Lute should be written up for this. He’d reprimand her, all right. Order her to bend over his lap so he could smack that tight ass of hers.  

No! Bad Adam!  

THIS. WASN’T. WORKING!  

“No!” he cried, grabbing her hands and removing them from his face.

“Babe. I need you to stop.” He swallowed, his throat tight, every part of his body aching now, to the point where if she touched him just one more time he would probably explode. “I’m going to get up now. And lock the door.”

Lute squinted her eyes, her brows furrowed at his statement.

“Why would you need to lock the door?” Her brief pause from confusion ended when she noticed him pulling back. It was then she grabbed his robe again, yanking on it to draw him close once more.

He was NOT getting away from her that easily. Especially when there was a high chance he’d run.

She grabbed his face again, only for him to deflect her away.

“LUTE WILL YOU LET ME BE FUCKING RESPONSIBLE FOR ONCE???” He threw her back against the bed. Initially thrilling. The rush of being tossed backwards making her giggle.

She could work with this!

Or she thought she could. Before she could so much as utter a rebuttal, he was on top of her. But he wasn’t on top of her in anyway that she wanted him to be.

He was laying sideways overtop of her so that his feet were off the bed. He held her arms pinned to her sides so she couldn’t move, at least not her upper body.

She was trapped under him in the least sexy way he could’ve possibly come up with.

“Sir! What the fuck are you doing???”

“Go to sleep Lute! I am fucking begging you! We are both completely wasted and I’m not gonna come out of this the fucking bad guy for once!”

Lute kicked her legs in protest, trying to get leverage by twisting and wriggling free.

She couldn’t get a single hit on him. Shit!

“Kick air all you want. I’m NOT moving.”

“SIR.”

“GO TO SLEEP.”

Adam was rather proud of his quick thinking.  

He knew it was risky, pinning Lute to the bed. Mostly because he knew she’d enjoy it – and given the way she’d laughed as he threw her down, his suspicions were confirmed.  

He filed that away for a later, more sober date.  

This position, however, was perfect. He had her arms pinned, so there was so way she could grab a hold of him. She couldn’t kick him, considering his body was lying across her upper torso and there was no physical way she could reach him. His head was far back enough from her face that she couldn’t lean forward and kiss him.  

Or at least, he thought it was perfect. Because when she started kicking out and thrashing, he’d made the mistake of looking down at her chest and noticing her tits again.  

He said a silent prayer of thanks that his dick was nowhere near her body as he shifted his hips downwards onto the mattress.   

Just in case.  

“Sir?” she panted, her kicks subsiding.

He could feel her body slacken beneath his – it could be tiredness, or, knowing Lute, she could be feigning fatigue only to take him by surprise and throw him off her when he was least suspecting it.

He squeezed her arms tighter by her side, keeping his eyes firmly on her undecorated bedroom wall behind the bedhead.“Yeah, Lute?”  

“Are you going to tell Sera about this?” Her voice was quiet, small. Afraid.  

“Only if you don’t shut up and go to sleep soon.”  

“Oh.” Silence.

“Sir?”  

“Yeah?”  

“Are you going to write me up?”  

“For what?”  

“For me wanting you to fuck me on the table.”  

Adam sighed heavily and looked down at Lute’s face. Her eyelids were drooping; she was looking at him from underneath her eyelashes. He could feel that her breathing was becoming slower; more even, regulated. She was finally on the cusp of sleep.  

“No, babe. I’m not going to write you up,” he said, watching her face relax. “You were a fucking menace tonight and tested me in every way possible, but no. I’ll let you off. Just this once.”  

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Good.”

Adam watched Lute’s face as she drifted off, her head tilting to the side slightly as she finally gave in to sleep. He smiled fondly as soft snores escaped her mouth and began to rhythmically fill the room.  

She was adorable, even in sleep.  

He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead, smoothing her wild hair out of her face so she wouldn’t get it in her mouth as she slept.  

“Night, Dangertits.” he whispered as he slowly, deliberately, moved off her body. He took the duvet from the opposite side of the bed and wrapped it over her, lifting her arm to tuck it just under her body.  

Now, it was time for him to sleep. He was fucking spent.  

He opened her wardrobe and located a spare blanket, folded with military precision on the top shelf. Picking up the spare pillows that had ended up on the floor during their tussle, he lined them up neatly parallel to Lute’s body and settled himself on the bed next to her, draping the blanket over himself.  

She may have been all over him earlier, but he knew what she’d be like in the morning when she discovered that they’d shared a bed. Best to play it safe.  

Closing his eyes, he attempted to reconcile how he’d ended up in this position. Adam was never responsible; in fact, he was practically the poster boy for bad choices, the textbook definition of irresponsibility. So why was he so insistent of not fucking this up?He peered over the pillow barrier at Lute, who had shifted slightly in her sleep so her body was now facing away from him. 

Deep down, he knew why he was so determined to do the right thing. Too bad he’d never admit it out loud.  

Though, he was looking forward to when the time was right between them. Because if the way she kissed him was any sort of preview of what he could expect…  

…it was hot as fuck.  

Hot.  

He was hot as fuck.  

This room was hot as fuck.  

EVERYTHING WAS HOT!  

Adam groaned and threw the blanket off himself and onto the floor. This was the part of drinking that he hated. The inevitable comedown, the beginning of the antagonizing descent back to sober-ness that meant a host of other unpleasant side-effects were soon to follow.  

Usually, he tried to get to sleep before he hit this stage, but somebody had other ideas.  

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think of what unpleasant symptom would come next. Would it be a headache? The nausea? The irritability?  

He was boiling. His body temperature must have been at least a thousand degrees, if not more. Sitting up, he ripped his robe up over his head and tossed it next to him on the floor, his pants and undershirt following suit not long after. Clad only in his underwear, feeling significantly cooler now, he glanced over at Lute, who hadn’t moved since he’d last checked on her.  

He smirked as he lay his head down on the pillow, his eyes now feeling heavy as sleep drew nearer. She was going to freak in the morning when she saw this.

Lute groaned and cracked an eye open, immediately shutting it as the sliver of light from her windows cut through her pupils like a hot knife.      

Her head was THROBBING. The pressure building the longer she laid there.

Even the simple basic act of thinking tore through her brain like a spear.

What happened last night?

She was aware of a very bitter taste in her dry mouth. Like bile.

The party… The victory concert-

Her head was going to explode. The sound of snoring just behind her wasn’t helping-

Snoring?

She sat up quickly, squeezing her eyes shut again as the room spun around her.

UGH she was going to be sick. And she was GOING to kill whoever kept snoring in her ears! It might not have actually been loud but in that moment it was like an amp was turned to max right next to her head.

She grit her teeth, moving slower as she felt with her hands to try and see EXACTLY who dared to sleep in her bed.

At least… she hoped it was her bed…

She forced her eyes open, taking some level of solace through the blinding light that what she could make out seemed at least familiar.

It wasn’t Vaggie’s apartment. Okay… it was hers.

She looked down at the wall of pillows, confounded as to why they were there.

Seriously… what happened?

She brought her hands back to her face, rubbing it gingerly in that hopes the action would alleviate the pressure.

It didn’t.

No wonder hard alcohol was typically banned from Heaven. This was HORRIBLE.

Finally, she found the strength to open her eyes and confront whoever was taking up residence in her bed.

Oh… shit.

It was Adam. Her boss. Sleeping in nothing but his underwear. IN HER BED.

Her eyes widened and she very quickly felt her body, looking down and kicking off whatever covers there were.

She was in her underdress and nothing else... fuck.

What happened last night?! …where was her bra??? Where were her pants???She looked around the bed for any sign of either of them as frantically as she could muster, only to slip and collide with the floor with a ‘thud.’

“Ouch.” She hissed, muttering curses into her carpet.

Adam grunted. Whoever the fuck was rolling around on the floor was about to cop an absolute earful if they didn’t stop in approximately three seconds.  

He groggily opened one eye and took in his surroundings. White bedspread. Black bed-frame. Pillows to his left, dividing the bed.   

Ah. He remembered now. This was Lute’s room.  

Opening the other eye, he peeked over the pillow barricade. Lute seemed to have vacated the bed. Probably sitting on the floor, rocking in the corner of her living room as she pieced together memories of what a freak she’d been the night before.

He smirked as his own recollection of the night began flooding back. She really had indeed been a freak.  

Yawning, he scratched his chest as he sat up properly. Shit, his head was pounding. He had half a mind to lie back down and sleep it off, but he figured he should find Lute and try to ascertain what her version of last night’s events were.

Crawling across the bed, he picked up the pillows and threw them off Lute’s side, not paying any attention to where they landed.  

“Ow!” an indignant voice cried from the floor.  

“Lute?” Adam called, peering over the side of the bed. He was greeted not by her face as he’d expected, but by her almost-bare chest, covered only by the thin material of her underdress.  

Ah. That’s right. She’d taken her bra and pants off in some kind of weird striptease for him last night. A last-ditch attempt to get him to sleep with her.

He wondered if she was aware of her newfound interest in the art of burlesque.  

Only one way to find out.  

“For fuck’s sake, Lieutenant,” he sighed, “Put on a bra, would ya?”Lute responded by rolling over onto her stomach, forehead pressed to the carpet as she tossed a pillow at him, missing and hitting her headboard.

“I’m about to get up, Sir. I just… need a minute. Close your eyes.”  

“What for?” he snorted. “You couldn’t get enough of showing your tits off last night.”  

Lute’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and cheeks positively golden with shock.

“What?!”  

“Oh, yeah.” Adam flattened himself on the bed and grinned down at Lute, who was gaping wordlessly up at him. Oh, this morning was going to be fun, even if he was hungover as shit. “You were wild last night, babe. An animal. You couldn’t keep your hands off me – I had to beg you to stop. Turns out you want the First Dick just as bad as the rest of ‘em.”  

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Lute muttered, her forehead dropping back down to the floor.

She had debased herself.

Even if she was VERY aware of her feelings towards her commanding officer, she’d at the very least always maintained that she still had her chastity. That she wasn’t clamoring to sleep with him like all the other exorcists purely BECAUSE he was the first man.

She likely didn’t even have that anymore. She was just like every other pathetically hopeless girl who drooled over him in heaven. 

Any amount of respect she had for herself? Gone. Obliterated. 

She groaned and thumped her forehead against the floor, immediately regretting it as black spots danced in her vision.

That was nothing compared to the all-encompassing sense of shame that had her in a chokehold.

After a very long moment she forced herself upright, pulling herself to lean on the bed and face her boss.

He was staring at her, a smug look on his lips. His hair was an absolute mess and she REALLY hoped that was of his own doing and not hers.

“…We didn’t… did we?”

Adam snickered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, now you’re having second thoughts? Let me tell you Lutey, you were an absolute FREAK of nature last night.”

Lute paled, slowly sliding back down to the floor so he couldn’t look at her. So he couldn’t SEE any part of her.

He’d apparently already seen enough. AND HE REMEMBERED IT ALL. So why couldn’t she???

-Pants! She needed to find her pants. And her bra. Unless she wanted to continue to unintentionally flash him.

She crawled around the bed, bumping into the frame way more than she would’ve liked as she felt around on the floor for the items of clothing.

She pulled herself up when she reached the door, using the frame to get her up onto her feet.

“Nice ass.”

Lute felt her ears burn as she glanced over her shoulder at him, irritated that he would DARE look her way. She dropped her wings, crossing the bottom feathers in the hopes she’d be at minimum a little more covered.

“Sir… why are you still here?” She asked through clenched teeth.

“You think I feel any better than you do?”

She pressed her lips together, deciding not to respond as she made her way out into the living area.

She was NEVER drinking again. EVER.

Her brows furrowed as she pulled herself along the wall, using it to keep herself upright as she wandered into the main part of her apartment.

She felt like she should be able to remember something from the night before. But apparently it was so horrible her brain had conveniently erased it.

She paused at the end of the hall as her table came into view.

There was something about that table- something IMPORTANT. Why couldn’t she remember???

She heard a very low vibration emanating from the living area near the couch. The telltale sign that her phone was going off from its hiding place beneath the cushions.

GREAT. Another thing she needed to hunt down.

It took her way longer to find her phone than she cared to admit. Especially as she had to keep pausing to close her eyes. Everything was so fucking loud and bright. 

WHY the fuck was everything in Heaven so illuminated all the fucking time??? 

She sighed with relief when she finally yanked her phone from where it was trapped, squinting and wincing as the vivid light from the screen assaulted her sensitive eyes. 

She had …fifty-thousand notifications.

Oh shoot.

She rubbed her face as she very quickly skimmed through, groaning the whole while. 

A handful seemed to be pictures the other girls were tagging her in. Great. That was just great.

The rest were… messages from Vaggie.

One VERY important one at the very top of the stack making her heart drop.

‘I’m coming over. Be there in five.’

No, no, no, no, NO!

VAGGIE COULD NOT SEE ADAM IN HER PLACE!!

It was bad enough SHE had to live with the knowledge of what happened last night. But for VAGGIE to find out??? She did not want to have that conversation.

She did not want to deal with the JUDGMENT.

She sprung to her feet, intending to go back to her room and tell Adam he needed to leave immediately. However, she was stopped when there was a knock at the door.

Vaggie huffed impatiently, tapping her foot as she waited for Lute to open her damn door.  

She was exhausted. Part of that was her own fault – she’d continued to party long after Lute and Adam had left, well into the early hours of the next morning. And when the party had ended, she wasn’t quite ready to go home so she’d continued celebrating by spending a little one-on-one time with another angel in their bed.  

It was no wonder she was so tired. She hadn’t slept a wink.   

The other reason she was exhausted, though, was because she’d been stressing all night about Lute leaving the party with Adam.  

Their boss, in Vaggie’s eyes, was nothing more than a selfish, womanizing piece of shit and it killed her to think that her friend had fallen victim to his apparent charm.

Lute. The baddest bitch in all of Heaven, who took no crap from anybody.

Lute, who would happily gut somebody with her sword without a second thought if they even looked at her the wrong way.  

Lute, who as far as she knew, had never gone home with anybody before.  

The door creaked open, mid-foot tap.  

“Hi.” Lute poked her head through the gap in the door. Vaggie winced – she looked like hell, and that was putting it nicely. Her hair resembled something more like a bird’s nest than her usual platinum crop, her eyes looked tired and her pale face had the faintest tinge of green to it.  

“You look awful.” Vaggie crossed her arms and glared at her friend. “Can I come in?”

“Um,” Lute looked back into her apartment nervously, filling Vaggie with a sense of dread.

He was fucking in there. She knew it.

“...Can you just give a minute? I just have to, um – ”  

“Nope.” Vaggie pushed the door open, eyes widening at the absolute state of Lute.  

Despite being what she would consider ‘good’ friends with her lieutenant, in the many years Vaggie had known Lute she had only ever seen her wear two things: her exorcist uniform in full, or training gear.

That was it.

No casual clothes, no fancy outfits. Even when the Exorcists hit the showers after training, Lute would always enter a private shower cubicle fully dressed, and exit the cubicle fully dressed. She’d never undress near the lockers, like their other sisters.  

So, to see her in nothing but her sheer underdress and plain black panties was something of a shock to Vaggie.  

“Is… is there something that I need to know?” Vaggie asked weakly, watching as Lute hastily folded her arms over her chest. “Because I’d rather you just tell me now and get it over with – ”  

“No,” Lute squeaked, in a tone that Vaggie had never heard before, the blush on Lute’s cheeks completely betraying her. “I was just getting ready for a shower.”  

“A shower,” Vaggie echoed, her eyes trailing to the black bra that hung over the lamp on Lute’s desk. She nodded at it, Lute’s eyes following and widening in horror when she realized what Vaggie was gesturing to. “Do you normally just… throw your underwear around your apartment when you take a shower?”  

“I put it there for... safekeeping.”  

Lute was a lot of things. Lethal. Ambitious. Downright terrifying, at times. One thing she was not, however, was a good liar.  

“Uh-huh,” Vaggie nodded slowly. “And your pants?” She pointed to the crumpled up pile of familiar black leggings that lay near Lute’s dining table. “Do they require safekeeping too?”  

Lute just swallowed in response and crossed her arms tighter.

“Lute,” Vaggie pleaded desperately, placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “Please tell me you didn’t?”

Lute recoiled away from the touch, her arms pressing tighter against herself.

How the fuck was she supposed to explain this??? ESPECIALLY when she wasn’t even sure exactly what happened!

She couldn’t even look Vaggie in the eyes. She didn’t want to. Not when she knew the girl would chastise her. She couldn’t deal with that. 

“I… don’t-“ Lute pressed her lips together.

WHY COULDN’T SHE BE A BETTER LIAR?

“No! Of course I didn’t.” She turned away completely from her sworn sister. Though she could feel Vaggie’s eyes boring holes into the back of her head.

Her wings tensed, eyes widening as she heard Adam in the bedroom.

No! NO! NO! NO! NO!

Vaggie could NOT know he was still here!

She spun on her heel, turning back to address her friend, order her out of the apartment, but before she could so much as utter a sound she felt her stomach whirl and bile fill her mouth.

“Oh, sh-“ Was all she managed to get out before she sprinted through her bedroom and into the bathroom, the door banging off the wall as she pushed it open.

She was lucky that she managed to make to the bathroom BEFORE she voided the contents of her stomach. Though just barely.

She was NEVER drinking again.

Vaggie had joined her in the bathroom at some point, she wasn’t sure when and she didn’t care given she felt like she was sick for decades.

Her head was throbbing, the room was spinning, she was nauseous and clammy… AND SHE STILL HAD NOT THE FAINTEST CLUE OF WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT BEFORE.

“Please just kill me now and put an end to my suffering…” She muttered, head in her hands as she pulled away from the toilet.

She wanted to die. Death would certainly be better than whatever this was. 

Adam smirked to himself as he propped himself up on his elbows and tried to peer into Lute’s bathroom. He couldn’t see a lot of the action from where he was laying, although given how violently ill Lute was, he figured that was probably a good thing.  

“It’s alright, hon,” he heard Vaggie sigh, consoling Lute as she retched again. “I think after you’re done it’d be best if we got you into the shower and cleaned you up a bit.”  

“Can I watch?” Adam called from his spot on the bed, grinning. He didn’t feel too crash hot himself, and the sound of others vomiting made his own stomach churn, but he knew he’d get a good rise out of Vaggie if he riled her up a bit, and that would be well worth it.  

Besides, he wasn’t even sure if she’d seen him as she’d run past the bed, chasing Lute into the bathroom.  

Vaggie poked her head through the doorway. “What the fuck did you do to her?” she hissed, her almond eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “She’s not in a good way, Adam!”  

“I didn’t do anything!” he proclaimed, sitting up. He saw Vaggie wince as she took in his near-nude body, the blanket draped over his lap hiding any trace of his underwear. “Oh lighten up Vag, as if you’re never seen a naked man before – actually wait, I take it back, you probably haven’t.” He spread his arms out proudly. “It is an honour to be the first – ”  

“Now I think I’m going to be sick,” Vaggie moaned, rubbing her eyes. “Why the hell are you so hairy?”  

Adam looked down at his chest, frowning. He wasn’t that hairy…

…was he?  

“What would you know, carpet muncher?” he shot back. “This is one hundred percent pure testosterone you’re looking at – and given I’m the First Man, I’m also the ideal man, so why don’t you – ”  

He was interrupted by another retch from Lute.  

“I don’t know what you did to her,” Vaggie growled, “But I’m going to put her in the shower and take her back to my place so she can recover in peace.”  

“Like fuck you’re taking her home, I’m taking care of her.”

“Yeah, coz you’re doing a real good job of it now, laying your lazy ass in bed while she pukes her guts up.”  

“I was getting up anyway to make us coffee, fucking calm your flaps.” Adam threw the blanket off his lap and rolled off the bed.  

Rolling wasn’t a good idea. His stomach churned violently as he steadied himself.  

“Could you at least put some clothes on?” she snarled. “I’ve already seen enough of your doughy dad-bod this morning.”  

“Fuck off! There’s nothing wrong with my body. Like you’re one to talk anyway you hypocrite, you’re still in your clothes from the night before. Did you do the walk of shame here?”  

Vaggie muttered something under her breath that Adam couldn’t quite make out and slammed the bathroom door shut.  

Whistling, he strode out into the living area and through to the kitchen.

Anyone would, and should be grateful to have a friend like Vaggie.

Lute was not among the grateful that morning.

Especially not when Vaggie tried to get her to step into the shower. She pulled away, borderline belligerent, her wings coming up around herself to cover herself.

“I can manage myself.” She hissed.

It was an absolute lie. She very much could not handle herself. She could barely stand upright, much less keep her eyes open.

Vaggie sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Well it’s either I help you or I go get our… erm, charming boss to do it.”

Lute jumped, her wings involuntarily smacking Vaggie into the sink.

“OR why don’t I shower myself?”

Vaggie looked at her flatly. “Lute you can BARELY stand. If it makes you feel any better just get in wearing what you have.” She turned on the water, pushing the lieutenant into the tub before she could protest.

Something Lute would be REMEMBERING when they got to the office on Monday.

She shrieked when the water hit her, making the sheer fabric even MORE see-through as he clung to her. In a panic, she tried to pull back from the water only to slip on the wet tile and fall, taking Vaggie down with her. 

“This is why. THIS right here is why I wasn’t going to let you shower on your own. You’d fucking KILL yourself.” Vaggie muttered as she moved her now soaking wet hair from her eyes.

Lute stayed on the floor of the shower for a moment longer, eyes squeezed shut. 

Her head was going to explode. 

“Seriously, Lute. Tell Adam to fuck off and get out of here. You’re not in your right mind and clearly he’s already done enough damage.”

Lute waved her hand blindly, eyes staying closed.

“He said he was making coffee.” She muttered, defending him despite the fact that she shouldn’t. 

BUT, if he left she might never piece together what happened the night before. And she sure as shit wasn’t leaving him alone in her apartment to look through all her stuff. 

Vaggie sighed, not bothering to waste her breath anymore. She turned on her heel and left the bathroom, hoping Lute wouldn’t drown in the shower while she found her a change of clothes. 

“What are you doing?” she asked Adam, emerging from Lute’s bedroom, hands on hips.  

“Performing a fucking baptism,” he shot back, watching the coffee begin to steep into the pot. “What does it look like, you dumb bitch?”  

If there was anything that got on Adam’s nerves, besides math, it was stupid questions.  

“I can see that, fuckstick. I mean, what are you doing with Lute?”  

Adam leaned against the counter and considered Vaggie’s question. Even though she was a moody pain in the ass, she cared about Lute. Genuinely.  

Maybe just this once, he could level with her.  

“I know you’re not going to believe me,” he said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I mean it when I say nothing happened between us last night.”  

“Then why are you both barely clothed?”  

“Because I was drunk and got hot, and I stopped Lute from doing something she might have regretted, alright?” He turned away from Vaggie and filled three mugs with black coffee.

“Any other stupid questions?”  

Silence. And then, “No.”  

“Good. Do you take milk or sugar with your coffee? Or are you weird like Lute and only drink it black?” He added two spoonfuls of sugar and a considerably large splash of milk to one mug and took a sip instantly. “Oooh. That’s good.”   

“I’ll have mine when I get back. I’m going to grab some food.”

Vaggie reached for the handle of the front door and paused, turning back to Adam. 

“Lute’s just getting changed now. She… wasn’t too keen on the shower. I think it will help, though, so I’m glad I forced her in. Make sure she drinks that.” She nodded once at Adam – a rare civil gesture – and closed the door behind her.

Lute took SOME level of solace, she supposed, in the fact that Vaggie had helped her find new clothes. And had given her the privacy to change.

She at least felt… somewhat decent now. Even if her head was still pounding, she could face Adam with some level of dignity.

She made her way into the living area, the towel loosely draped over her head to keep the light away from her eyes.

And… to hide her face until the last possible second.

Once she got to the end of the hall, she rubbed the towel over her hair and pulled it down over her shoulders to catch whatever water might still be there.

Now or never.

She let out a breath, strolling into the kitchen as nonchalant as she could muster, head high, chest out. 

She deflated quickly though, her jaw clenching as she caught sight of Adam’s bare- EVERYTHING.

Heaven help her.

“Sir.” She slammed her hand down onto the counter, trying her best to maintain her composure.

“What happened last night? And don’t dance around the question.”

Adam took a sip of his coffee, sliding the mug he’d made for her across the counter. She stopped it with her hand.

“The Victory concert? We got hammered babe.”

Lute looked at the dark liquid swirling in the mug, before peering up at Adam flatly.

“I know that.” She hissed. “I mean AFTER we came back to my apartment.”

He smirked, once more raising the coffee to his lips.

“I already told you. You got freaky~” He winked, holding up his finger when she opened her mouth to protest.

Her eyebrow twitched.

“That isn’t helpful. Sir.”

“What do you want me to say, Dangertits? You wanted to fuck me on the couch,” He nodded to the living room. 

“The table, oh you were REALLY gunning for me to dick you down on the table-“

Lute cut him off, balling the towel up and throwing it at him. Gloriously, she managed to hit him directly in his smug stupid face.

Her own face was burning.

“My table? Of all the places in my apartment you’re telling me the TABLE is where I wanted to do it?”

Adam snickered, letting the towel drop to the floor.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t let me so much as walk away before you started stripping in some sort of little tantrum because I WOULDN’T fuck you on the table.”

She wanted to kill him.

Adam, First Man, he would die that day. 

Adam took one look at Lute’s face and he couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore.  

She was filthy with him.  

“Tell. Me. What. Happened,” she snarled. “I know where my knives are. You don’t.”  

Adam opened the drawer closest to him.

Knives. All perfectly polished with expertly sharpened blades. There were far too many of them for one angel living on her own – but then again, it was Lute, so it wasn’t the same level of shock as it would have been had they belonged to any other angel.  

“Wanna tell me when you started a side hustle as a butcher, babe?” Adam asked, taking another sip of coffee. “Coz, really, you don’t need this many – ”  

“I’ll butcher you in a minute,” Lute growled, “If you don’t shut up and fill in the gaps from last night.”

Adam held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, calm the fuck down.” He rubbed a hand against his jaw and sighed.

He had no idea how she was going to take what went down last night – but she needed to know, and he really didn’t feel like talking her out of wielding a knife at him today.

He nodded towards her mug, still untouched on the bench. “I’ll tell you, but you’re going to want to drink that before it gets cold.”  

Lute eyed the cup wearily before glancing back in his direction, pointedly averting her eyes so she was looking somewhere over his left shoulder.

“...could you at least get dressed first?” she asked weakly.  

“Nope. This is how I came into this world – well, almost – and it’s how I intend to stay today. I will, however – ” He bent down and leaned his forearms on the counter opposite Lute, the lower part of his body mostly obscured from her view.

“ – stand here so I don’t catch you checking out my junk. My eyes are up here, remember?” He pointed to his golden eyes and grinned, watching Lute roll her eyes and reach for her cup.

“Alrighty, story time. What do you remember from the concert?”  

“I-” She pressed her lips together and glanced sideways. “I saw you doing a shot off that bitch. Layla...” There was a bite to Lute’s voice when she said Layla’s name that caught Adam off-guard.

He cocked his head, frowning, trying to recall the moment.  

“That was at the start of the night,” Adam said slowly, studying Lute, who had gone practically fluorescent and was making every effort to not look at him. Instead, she was intensely studying the black coffee in the mug she held between her hands. There was no fucking way black coffee could be that interesting.

“Lute – did you drink yourself stupid because you were jealous?”  

“No!” she cried indignantly. “...I just thought, that maybe, it might be fun to have a drink or two, that’s all.”

“Well, you didn’t just have a drink or two. You mixed at least four different drinks, including, from what Vaggie said last night, at least a full bottle of wine.”  

“No wonder I feel so crap.” she muttered, still not meeting his eye.  

“Yeah.” Adam snorted, draining the last of his coffee and setting his mug down on the bench. “Given the fact that you’re a giant overachiever, I’m not surprised you drank yourself stupid. Don’t ever pull that shit again. It’s dangerous, and you could have fucked yourself up pretty hardcore. Understood?”  

Lute continued to stare into the depths of her cup, head bowed, damp hair hiding her face.  

Adam sighed and rubbed his face. It was time to cut the bullshit and come clean.  

“Babe, nothing happened last night. I promise. I wasn’t lying when I said you were an animal – you initially wanted to fuck me on a table in front of everybody, which was when I decided to take you home and put you to bed.”  

“I did not say that.”  

“Well, no, you didn’t say it, but you certainly screamed it,” he smirked and ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember their surroundings at the time. “If it makes you feel any better, I think only Vaggie heard.”

“It doesn’t. So what happened when we got back here?”  

“Oh, before I get into that – you tried to fight Layla on the dance-floor. I think she accidentally bumped into you, and you flew off the handle at her and wanted to throw hands.”  

“She should have watched where she was dancing, then.” Lute’s tone was decidedly miffed. 

“I think it was an accident, Lute. And stop getting your panties in a twist about Layla. She’s a good time and a nice chick, but that’s about the extent of our relationship.”  

“And I’m not.” Lute finally tore her eyes from her coffee and glared at Adam, hurt evident in her own eyes as she stared him down like she was daring him to deny her statement.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was far, far too much to unpack in what she’d said, and his head was already fucking pounding.  

“I didn’t say that, so cut the self-deprecating bullshit. You’re the bane of my fucking existence some days, but you’re the baddest bitch in Heaven. My top girl. There’s nobody else I’d rather have as my right-hand woman. Does that make you feel better?”

“No.”  

“Well, let me put it this way – I like a good time, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not what matters most to me. Got it?”  

Lute said nothing, absentmindedly tapping a finger against her mug instead.  

“Anyway. We got back here, and I tried to get you to sober up by giving you water, but you were all worked up over something. Turns out, you were just horny as fuck and you kissed me there on that couch.”  

“You said nothing happened!” she wailed, burying her face in her hands as she leaned her elbows on the counter.  

“When I say nothing happened, I mean we didn’t sleep together. But fuck, Lute, I’m not gonna lie to you – it was headed that way. I had you up on your table and was about to start ripping your clothes off with my teeth before I realized something.”  

“What?” she groaned into her fingers.  

“I realized that when it happens – and I’m not saying the word if because I know it’s only a matter of time before it does happen – we both need to be in the right frame of mind. Not blind drunk. So, I put a stop to it.”  

Lute separated her ring and middle fingers, her bright eyes peering out at him from the gaps she’d created.  

“Lute? Say something?”

She didn’t want to say something.

She wasn’t even sure she could breathe in that moment given her BOSS just admitted that he fully expected them to fuck sometime in the near future. But not only did he expect them to fuck he expected it to be without any alcohol.

Her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage, her face burning hot.

Was she… excited? Anxious? Was that what she was feeling? SHAME? How the fuck was she supposed to process or accept that in any capacity? She wasn’t supposed to be into him like that!

Only to realize that she still hadn’t answered him and he was looking at her like she’d dropped her halo.

Speak. She needed to speak.

She cleared her throat, straightening up. Her eyes dropped down to the countertop and away from Adam, her hands smoothing out a stray napkin that was setting close by.

“I… recognize my behavior was… unprofessional.” She winced when Adam started laughing.

“Unprofessional? That ship sailed LONG before we got back to your place.”

She pressed her lips together, brows furrowed as she kept her full attention on the napkin. In particular she kept her attention on a wrinkle that wouldn’t come out.

“…But, thank you for… stopping me from doing anything foolish….Sir…” She felt her cheeks burn hotter.

She might not have been looking at him but she could FEEL his smug expression on her.

Any second he’d laugh again. Any second he’d poke fun. 

But he didn’t. Instead he reached out and gently took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

“Like I said,” He started, the sound of his coffee mug being set down on the counter hitting her ears.

“We need to be in the right frame of mind. Cause that’ll be a day I want you to remember~”

Lute’s eyes flicked up ever so briefly before she looked back down. She rubbed her temple, her headache returning with a vengeance.

She cleared her throat again, her breath hitching as she felt Adam, very gently, place a kiss on her forehead.

He then shifted around the counter, hoisting her up into his arms bridal style.

“Sir!” She yelped.

“What are you doing???”

“Simple, you have a headache. I know I have a headache. Standing around here isn’t going to help so let’s just call it and go back to bed.”

She covered her face with her hands once more as he carried her back into her room, easing her down gently onto the mattress before climbing next to her.

He then very deliberately took one of the spare pillows and placed it over his crotch.

“Don’t want you getting any ideas.” He winked, snickering as Lute involuntarily smacked him square in the chest.

“Ouch! Hey, see? I was smart. Now I’m fucking protected!”

Lute rolled her eyes, shifting to get herself comfortable and falling silent in the hopes her headache would fade. She just needed to go back to sleep.

Shockingly, Adam also fell silent. It was startling him not speaking for so long that Lute was the one to break the silence.

“Sir?” She asked, her voice small.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not going to fire me over this?”

He frowned, propping himself up on his arm.

“Why would I fucking do that? Didn’t you hear me? You’re my top girl.”

“I was just making absolutely sure, Sir.” She pressed her lips together, falling silent again as Adam readjusted his position and closed his eyes.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Are… you going to tell Sera about this?”

Adam cracked open an eye, choosing to scoot closer to close the distance between them, his legs bumping up against hers. 

Of course, the pillow was still there because the first man was apparently choosing THAT particular moment to be modest.

“What Sera doesn’t know won’t kill her.” He shrugged.

“Besides, it was our Victory concert. Everyone goes wild that night. You just decided to be fucking insane.”

Lute glanced off to the side, only to pause when she felt Adam’s fingers brush against her cheek.

“It’s okay though. Keeps Heaven interesting. You being fucking nuts.”

She inadvertently leaned into his touch, bringing her hand up to hold his wrist, a small smirk on her lips as she closed her eyes.

Vaggie didn’t bother announcing when she came back given she expected to see them in the kitchen.

BUT NO. No, they’d decided to leave their half-empty coffee mugs on the counter.

She hated to consider what that meant given Adam was a party in all this. There was no telling what he could pressure Lute into. Not that Lute was seemingly at all unwilling most times.

Then again, it wasn’t out of the realm of reason that Lute had just gotten sick again. Even IF she probably didn’t have anything left in her stomach by that point that didn’t mean she wouldn’t still dry heave.

The exorcist sighed, placing the bag of food on the counter as she made her way down the hall towards Lute’s bedroom.

She paused when she heard whispering, peering through the door to see them… in bed?

She waited a moment, weighing her options. If she went in there and disturbed them - EVEN if she wanted to on principle - Lute would be FURIOUS with her. If she did nothing… well… she’d probably be fine.

After a long moment she sighed, deciding to leave the apartment for the time being.

She’d send a text checking in later. But for now, she’d let them rest and sleep off their hangovers.

Hopefully, it would benefit all of them come Monday.

[fantasyandshit]

My girl

Pairing: Nesta x fem!reader

Type: Request oneshot

Based on this request

Masterlist here

———

A/n- I want to apologize for my absence, life has been very busy recently and I’ve had some serious writers block. But I’m back and gonna try really hard to get back into the groove of everything.

I adjust the neckline of my dark blue dress as I stare in the mirror attached to Nesta and I’s room. The dress is absolutely gorgeous, hugging my curves in all the right places, it’s a halter top, wrapping up and around my neck….but it’s just very…revealing. The neckline dips down to the base of my ribs, and a slit runs up each side, up to the top of my thighs. Nothing is left to the imagination as even the back is non existent. I feel bare to the world.

Finally, after a few more moments, I leave our room, making my way to the stairs. As I reach the top of the stairs case I pause for a moment, peaking behind a wall to see all of my family waiting for me, conversing with one another. They are al stunning as usual, dressed in blacks, deep purples and dark blues.

But Nesta

Fuck

Nesta looks drop dead fucking gorgeous. She wears a sparkling black dress, similar in stile to mine, however it’s only got one slit going up her right leg, stopping up her hip, something in me stirs at that- she’s mine and basically on full display. I let it go, my eyes catching on the swell of her breasts, partially visible due to the deep v-neck cut, a gold chain connecting the two sides.

I take another deep breath before finally stepping out from my hiding spot, slowly stepping down the stairs. “You look amazing Yn.”

“Thank you Rhys.”

As I meet the bottom of the stairs I turn to my mate, “You look absolutely divine my love.” Nesta voice is as smooth as velvet, traveling to my ears like a Melodie in the night. I reach forward, my hands meeting her hips.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like the prized piece of art in a museum, like the night sky and a field of flowers in the spring. You’re gorgeous darling.”

She smiles, her lips meeting mine softly, “you’ve always had your way with words haven’t you dove.” I smile at this, she’s always been quite the flirt.

“Ok love birds can we get going now?” We, begrudgingly, separate. Mor and Nesta take my hand, Feyre taking Rhys’ and cassian, and Amren taking Azriel’s, the three of us winnowing everyone to the autumn court.

Eris had officially become high lord, filling killing of Beron, and that meant a celebration had to be held. We land in the middle of the ball room, making an entrance as always.

“Ah Rhysand. You finally made it!” Eris throws his hands out in greeting, stepping down the dais to meet us. He shakes hands with everyone, all of us bowing to each other. “Well, enjoy. There’s wine and music, food and entertainment. The night is young and,” he pauses, turning up and projecting his voice for all to hear, “We. Are. Free!” I’ve never seen the young lord so care free, but it seems that with the burden of his father gone from the court, the air is clearer, the leaves brighter and the lights blinding.

Everyone cheers, high lords from every court, their guests, and the whole of the autumn court here to celebrate the new ruler.

Nesta wraps a hand around my waist, keeping me to her side as we mingle about the ball.

After some time, I decide to grab myself and my mate a glass of wine, I tap her as she speaks to a young female from winter and she turns her head to me. “I’m going to go grab us some drinks. I’ll be right back ok.”

She hesitates for a moment before sighing, releasing her hold on me, “ok. But be careful.”

I chuckle softly, nodding before reaching up to give her a kiss. I make my way to the bar, a soft smile planted on my lips as I wait for the bartender to get our drinks poured.

“Well hello there pretty lady.” A slimy voice hits me as a hand comes to my ass.

I spin, slapping the male across the face, “Get the hell off of me!”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such a brat. I just wanna have some fun.” He’s smirking, one hand rubbing the red molar I’ve left on his cheek.

“No. You’re a fucking creep, get the fuck away from me. My mate will be over here, and she won’t be so kind as to simply slap you across your greasy face. Do you understand?”

He chuckles a disgusting, wheezing laugh before moving back to trying to grab me, “Ooh, so two females, I can’t wait.”

Just then, he’s ripped from me, thrown to the floor. The music stops as he yelps. “You leave my mate alone. Do you understand, if you do not stay the hell. Away. From my mate. I will personally people the flesh from your bones and burn you slowly on a spick.”

He gulps, looking as if he’s about to cry as he nods frantically. Just then, Eris and two guards come forward, dragging him from the hall.

“I am so sorry ladies. He will be properly dealt with. I will make sure of it.”

I nod softly, “thank you Eris.”

I swear I hear a hiss leave Nesta, her hand finds its old place around me, “we’re leaving, take us home please darling.”

I nod softly, winnowing the two of us to the house of wind.”

Even after we land, Nesta refuses to let me go, fuming. “Nesta. Nesta it’s ok. Everything is ok.”

“No. No. Nothing is ok. His hands were on you. He touched you. He touched you and your mine.” She looks at me with furrowed brows and pinched lips.

“It’s ok now. You protected me. You got me out. It’s ok now.” I hug her tightly, kissing her softly as her hands relax in my hips. “It’s ok.” I breathe out.

—————

Sooo how was it for my first Nesta fic? I hope I did ok!

Love y’all, thanks for reading!

[oliiroo]

I saw @nerdynuala’s art of Rosie petting Alastor’s tuffs, (absolutely adorable, I am so soft) so here we are. ✨ This is what formulated in result. 👀

—

“Ah, ah, ahhh-” Alastor sang in warning, the pointy tip of his microphoned staff pressing firmly into the shoulder of the spider demon in front of him. “That alcohol is clearly impairing your sense of judgement. I will warn you one more time… no touching.” His voice held a tint of playfulness, but every other nuance screamed forewarning.

The strain of his outwardly playful voice was ever so apparent, static in every other syllable growing more noticable as Angel’s persistence continued.

It was easy for one to deduce that Angel must have been pestering Alastor for some time now, leaving the radio demon’s already thin line of patience wanning even more so.

“Come ooon!” Angel let out an exasperated sigh, smacking the older demon’s microphone away from his shoulder, a dull ache left behind. “You might even enjoy it. I’m quite good with my hands, you know.” There was certain a trill to Angel’s voice that induced a spike of ire in the radio demon.

His smile tightened, a single eye twitching and as if on cue, the lights in the hotel lobby flickered warningly.

“Ah- Ahhh! Uh.. whatssssss’ um.. er- going on here, might I ask?” Sir Pentious interrupted abruptly, fingers twiddling with the ends of his suit coat awkwardly. There was a barely audible ringing becoming more and more unbearable to tolerate. It was another sign coming from Alastor that Angel’s little drunken game had gone on long enough.

Sir Pentious was not about to let things escalate further… for all of their sakes.

“Oh, nothin’.” Angel muttered, defeat in his voice. “Smiley over here is being a tightwad, s’all.”

“Aha... is that sssso?” Sir Pentious was not convinced.

“Angel is determined to test a rumor he’s heard about. I’m not even quite sure where he heard of such a frivolous thing.”

“Oh?” Sir Pentious cocked his head.

“Al’s ears are apparently suuuuper soft according to a certain joyous overlord. I jus’ wanted to test it out myself s’all, but mr. ‘stick in the ass’ over here won’t let me… not even a little touch.”

“Allow your imagination to run wild, my friend!”

Tch. “How boring.”

“Better than missing a limb, I’d imagine.” Alastor’s eyes narrowed challengingly, smile unwavering.

“Ehh, it’d grow back.” Angel shrugged with a frown. “You’re an enigma and it pisses me the hell off, ya kno-..”

Angel’s words were cut off as he watched the other enigmatic character who appeared out of nowhere start climbing up Alastor’s tall stature, giggling as she did so.

“Niffty! I-I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Sir Pentious cried out, reaching towards her as if he was planning to grab her from Alastor’s shoulders before it was too late.

However, Niffty was quick to finally put all curiousity to rest, climbing to the appendages in question, grabbing them with vigor. She fumbled with the tuffs joyously.

“Suuuuper soft!” She giggled.

Angel’s and Sir Pentious’s eyes flicked from Niffty to Alastor speechless, hearts beginning to pick up pace.

…Oh shit.

Alastor’s smile had not faltered, but his eyes were clenched closed, a wrinkle very much visible just between his arched brows. After a moment, Alastor let out a defeated sigh of his own, shoulders dropping and attention moving upwards towards his favorite little companion.

“Well, I suppose the mystery has been solved!” Alastor hummed, seemingly unbothered.

Angel stared dumbfounded, gawking at the sight before him, “That’s it?!”

Niffty clearly had the ear touching pass, and quite frankly, Angel was offended.

“I don’t know what you expected.” Husk suddenly joined in from afar, stationed at the bar. “Everything about that red head is infuriating.” He muttered under his breath while cleaning out a whiskey glass.

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 2

LOL! I love how much you guys are loving this. I took the idea for the names at the bar from a fantasy novel called The Lark and the Wren (I’m pretty sure) by Mercedes Lackey (only in that case it was a brothel).

Also guys: If I have you on my list but you didn’t get the notification for the tag it means one of two things: it’s a side or secondary blog and tumblr doesn’t tag those. Or and this far more likely you have it set that you’re undiscoverable through tumblr. Under settings go to your blog then scroll all the way down to visibility and make sure both are grey. (Or secret third thing that your blog is set to 18+ because tumblr hates porn.)

Part 1

*

Steve was trembling when he got to the apartment he shared with Robin. So badly that he was struggling to put the key in the lock. After the third failed attempt, he let out a sharp cry and sunk to the floor, his back pressed against the door.

He knew that he wasn’t the best person in high school. He did. But he had changed his senior year. Stopped hanging out with Tommy and Carol. Started focusing on his art. Meeting Robin.

Hell, as far as Steve could remember they hadn’t even gone after Eddie and his friends. He would like to say that it was because he had a crush on the guy. But no, it was just they ran in different circles and were just outside their purview.

He held his hands up and while they still shook, they weren’t as bad. He got up and tried again. With some effort he managed to get the key in the lock. He sighed in relief as the tumbler slid and allowed him to open the door.

As badly as Steve wanted to grab the six pack out of the fridge and down the whole thing, wallowing in self-pity. He couldn’t because he actually had work.

He had to train his replacement. He worked at an upscale bar close to campus, bar-tending. It was good money and he was able to work nights and go to school during the day. But if everything went according to plan, at the end of summer Steve would be starting his student teaching position. So the bar needed a new bartender.

He pulled on the black slacks and white button up that his uniform and his white sneakers. He rolled up his sleeves and checked his hair really quick in the mirror.

It would have to do.

He splashed water on his face to wash away the tears and clear his mind of cobwebs. He didn’t have the liberty of fucking up.

Steve grabbed his car keys and jumped into his BMW. The last remnant of his father’s hospitality. He had gotten the car when he was sixteen and the car was nearing its first decade. He kept his fingers crossed that it would last until he got his first full time teaching job.

When he pulled up the bar, he could see her waiting for him by the door. She was pretty blonde with bright eyes and a cheerful expression. She was wearing a short black skirt and high heeled shoes.

Steve shook his head. She was in for a rough time tonight if that’s what she was going to be wearing.

He trotted up to her. “Hey, you must be the new girl.”

“Yeah I’m C–”

Steve held up his hand. “If you’re going to tell me your real name, don’t. The boss doesn’t like us knowing each other’s real names, says it distracts from the ambient feel. I’m Garnet.”  

She blushed. “Right, right. He said. I’m Opal.”

Steve nodded. “Or at least at first hopefully by the time I leave you’ll be upgraded to a nicer gem.”

Opal fell instep with him as he led the way through the bar. “Have you always been Garnet, then?”

Steve licked his lips. “Yeah. It’s something of a running joke now. I’m the best bartender this bar has ever had and I’ve never been upgraded to Ruby or whatever.”

She nodded.

“Truth is Diamond respects me, but he sure the hell doesn’t like me,” he explained.

“You think Diamond is his real name?” Opal asked eagerly.

Steve shrugged. “Could be.” He grabbed two aprons from their hooks and tossed one at her. “This will help prevent you going home smelling like the bar.”

She nodded, tying it deftly around her waist.

“Diamond said you’ve done this before?” Steve asked, pulling out two white towels and tossing her one.

Opal nodded. “At my last job. It closed up because the owners retired.”

Steve nodded. “So then this won’t be too difficult. This will just be me showing you were everything is and showing you how to make the house specials.”

“Pretty much,” she said cheerfully.

Steve looked down at her shoes. “Your last place make you wear heels to tend in?”

She looked down at her feet. “Yeah, said I was too short to see over the bar otherwise.”

He cocked his head to side. “But you aren’t that short...”

Opal laughed, clear as a bell. “Oh I know. He was just a misogynist pig. I do have flats with me since I take the bus.”

“Put them on,” Steve instructed. “We move way too fast for you to be in heels. I don’t want you breaking your ankle or have blisters by the end of the night.”

She nodded and pulled out a pair of black flats and slipped them on, shoving the heels back in the purse.

“You’ll want tennis shoes or any other comfortable shoe from now on,” Steve explained. “You’re also allowed to wear slacks if you want. The patrons aren’t going to see below your waist and the apron covers your chest. Your tips will come from you being fast and good.”

Opal saluted. “Aye, aye Captain!”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Garnet!” a uncoordinated blur shouted and jumped into his arms. Steve caught her deftly and shook his head.

“Hey, Pearl,” he said with a grin. He set her down. “Say hi to the new girl.”

Pearl turned slowly to see that yes, someone was with Steve.

“Uh, hi,” she said, shyly. “Garnet’s my best friend.”

Steve gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, you are. Pearl, this is Opal. She’s my replacement come August. Opal, this gangly giraffe is one of the best waitresses the Queen’s Crown has to offer.”

Pearl smacked Steve’s arm. “Pay no attention to him.”

Opal laughed. “Kinda hafta because he’s training me.”

“Well besides that,” Pearl said. “He’s just a big dingus with a bigger heart.”

Steve blushed.

“Aww...” Opal said, “you two are cute together.”

Pearl made a fake vomiting noise. “We’re just best friends. Platonic with a capital P.”

Steve shook his head. “Ignore her.”

Opal laughed. “Five minutes in and I’m already ignoring everyone. This must be quite the friendly place.”

Just then a large man came out of the back and threw his arms wide open.

“Opal, my pet!” he boomed. “You made it. These two haven’t been giving you a hard time, have they?”

Opal shook her head. “They’ve been sweet.”

“Good, good,” Diamond said with a grin. “The bar opens in an hour. Garnet will show you everything you need to do to get stared.”

He gave them a wink and lumbered back into office.

Steve cleared his throat. “Right. So everyone pitches into to step and take down everything. Take down will include wiping everything down and sweeping and mopping the floors. Even Diamond comes out and helps wash glasses.”

Opal’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

Pearl nodded. “He’s kinda a if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself kind of guy. Not always, he does trust us to do our jobs, but he’s  very hands on.”

“But he doesn’t help set up?” Opal asked,

Steve looked back behind him and then back at her. “He gets the drawers ready for the day. He counts it all before hand and then we count our drawers with him after. He also counts the tip jar in front of everyone and gives everyone their percentages.”

Opal’s jaw dropped and she stared at them in shock. A man came out of the back dressed similarly to Pearl in a black button up and black slacks. While Pearl had black boots, this guy had white sneakers.

“This is Topaz, one of the other waiters,” Pearl said as the guy came up to shake her hand. “This is Opal, Garnet’s replacement.”

The guy lifted an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty big shoes to fill.”

Opal blushed. “I’m just surprised you guys are hiring six months out for that.”

Topaz shook his head. “That’s Diamond being a worry-wart again. If you don’t work out, he wants time to hire someone else.”

“You know,” Opal said, putting her hands on her hips, “for someone who insists everyone go by gem nicknames Diamond is sounding more and more like the perfect boss.”

The other three laughed.

“Pretty much,” Pearl said, “He may be an annoying hipster, but he’s good boss and he’ll take care of you.”

Topaz hip checked Steve. “Unless you’re Garnet, here.”

Steve pushed him playfully. “Shut it, man.”

Topaz laughed. “This idiot accidentally hit on Diamond’s daughter.”  

Pearl grinned. “In front of her fiance no less.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “No one told me who they were. I had been here for like a week. And every signal she was sending me was that she was interested.”

Topaz patted him on the back. “You keep telling yourself that, man.”

Steve shook his head. “Let’s get to work before Diamond comes out and starts yelling at us.”

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster

[sunnydayroleplay]

Hiiii! How are you? Don't hate me, but they had no right to make Ian cuteee- I'm sorry! He's just adorable! I would take him back- That sounds toxic, but ANYHOW. how would Ian react to MC taking him back?

This is the first post I’ve ever gotten about Ian omfg-

I aint gonna yuck your yums, I agree they had no right to make him so adorable. He’s quite cute aha~

Now, let’s write!

Contents Inside: Heavy Emotions (Crying, Anger), Uhhh Ian getting a bunch of speeding tickets most likely, You fucking slap his hoe ass, Cuddle times.

18- DNI, even though this is a relatively SFW post, the game it is based off of is an 18+ community. It is for your own safety, and you interacting not only jeopardizes that, it jeopardizes mine, and the creators of the games. For SFW + 18- safe content, check out my art page instead. @feralhalfnhalfcreamer

———————————————————

Countless missed phone calls, some unopened letters, he was desperate. He was desperate to win you back, or even just a word from you. He didn’t know how you were anymore because of him. All those memories from your guys’ childhood just vanished like that because of him and he hated it. If only he hadn’t went to that bar. If only he hadn’t finished that last drink. Maybe you’d be still together.

Tiresome nights, he still hasn’t gotten over you. And you couldn’t get him out of your head. You find yourself wearing his old shirts when you go to bed. The way his smell lingered in your nose was comforting yet infuriating. You’d sleep in his untouched room, on that same bed you’d talk to him in.

Was this normal? You know “getting over with” is different for everybody, but why is it lasting for so long? Why do you still love him? Why can’t you bring yourself to love someone else after months have passed? Why do you have the sudden urge to call him back and tell him you love him?

You shouldn’t. He cheated on you, regardless if he was drunk or not. He hurt you so badly, you don’t know if he’s only going to do it again. But, you can’t help but to find out. You want to hear his voice again one last time and have it not be his crying.

Your phone was vibrating on your nightstand. You leaned over to check who it was, and sure enough it was Ian. Your heart was racing, should you answer it? Do you want to try at this again? You’ve known him for the longest time, and you know he wouldn’t cheat on you to be a dick. That he wouldn’t hurt you just to hurt you. Maybe he really was sorry. Maybe you should answer it.

Letting out a sigh, you pick up the phone and press ‘accept’. You hear a shocked gasp from the other line.

“Y/N?! I-Is that you? Oh god..please I’m so sorry, I-“

“Come over. We need to talk.”

“Wait wh-“

You hang up and throw your phone across the room: Did you really tell him to come by to what was once both of your homes? And is he going to see that you still kept everything of his intact? Your heart is pounding, your mind is racing, you don’t know what to do or say, but you know that its not gonna be good.

Were you happy about this? Were you really going to let him back into your life after that last few months have been a living hell? So many questions and not enough answers. It felt like you were in your bed panicking for only mere seconds until you heard a knock on your door.

It’s him.

It’s…him.

Practically falling out of your bed, you try to wipe away your tears as you crawl out of your room and towards the front door. Should you open it? Are you really going to do this. Yes, you are. You unlock the door, and slowly open it up.

Standing in the door way was a light brunette haired man, freckles covering his soft face. He had a brown coat on, with a rough pair of jeans. His neck wore that necklace you once matched with.

You looked up at him, tears still streaming down your face. He clenched on his bag strap harder, trying not to do anything rash. Furrowing your eyebrows, you clenched your fists, and brought up a hand to slap him as hard as you could.

Ian immediately let go of his bag and held onto the side of his face that you hit him on.

“Ow!! I.. that was deserved..”

Like a typical day in Autumn, you couldn’t not let out your rain. Tears just falling down from your eyes, you tried your best to keep up your composure, but you couldn’t. Ian let go of his face. It was obvious that he wanted to go inside and hold you in his embrace that he had done so many times before. But he refrained.

You jumped in his arms, holding on for dear life as if he was going too disappear into ash and crumb.

“You’re a fucking dick! I hate you so much! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!!”

You hit him after every emphasis given. Ian didn’t say anything about it. He just wanted to comfort you. His hands ran up and down your spine as he tried to shush you softly. Like he had always done beforehand.

You hated how it felt so nice. How it felt so good the way he treated you in the moment. Eventually he let go off you, and you managed to calm down enough to start a basic conversation.

The two of you talked, you actually talked. After so long, you got to see each other, and it was actually nice. Ian talked about how it went on, and how he was deeply sorry. He went on his knees and practically begged for you to take him back. That he couldn’t live without you.

And to be honest, you knew you couldn’t either. He was one of the only things on your mind since he left. You knew you couldn’t get over him. You lept into his arms again, and held him close. You weren’t crying this time, at least not that much.

He pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hand resting behind your back, playing with your hair.

“I’m sorry Y/N.. I-I know that I-“

“Shut up and just.. stay with me..don’t leave me again..please..”

“You really mean it? You’re not just saying that..?”

“Do you want me to change my mind? I-I’ll be honest.. I couldn’t get over you either..it was hard.. You left me Ian. You left when I needed you most.”

“I won’t leave you again. I-I will always be here, okay? Please, I promise, I-I love you, you’re m-my everything..!”

Should you fall for those sentimental words again? Are you truly ready to start things over? It’s hard to decide, but you have an answer. Yes, you’re ready. Slowly but surely.

“J-Just come inside..”

You finally step aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. He walks over to that same familiar couch that the two of you got off the side of the road in a “rich people” neighborhood.

The two of you managed to calm down enough. Your ear pressed against Ian’s chest. Your breathing almost aligning up with his. He had both his arms wrapped around you. Its been awhile since you had done something like this with him. In general its been awhile since you had done anything with him.

Sure, its going to take a long time to build up trust with him, but at least he’s willing to do anything for it.

After so many nights of crying yourself to sleep, this was the one time in forever where you could sleep happy. Even if it meant getting back with your ex. And happily so.

[captain-rickbond]

I have actually several questions if you don't mind? :') (they're mostly about rickbond though, don't worry!) what's an AU and/or trope which suits you for ben and larry the most? coffee shop AU, enemies to lovers, university AU...? who out of those two is more likely to be the household cook? who's more likely to confess they like the other first? or do they do it at the same time? who's the golden retriever and who's the black cat in the relationship? what's an event/activity larry would try and force ben into? and what would be something ben would make larry do? And my final questions are for you and your art and writing specifically: what's a fic you would like to write/are currently writing, but can't seem to finish? do you have any WIPs that you wouldn't mind sharing bits and pieces of? :> when and where do you usually create your drawings? Love your work, I hope you're having a good day! ^^

Hi! okay, here we go:

Favourite AU/trope?

I wrote a coffee shop AU, assasins/hitmen AU and I'm writing three more: bar/pub AU, traumatic as hell AU, and post apocalyptic dystopian world AU (yes, you read that right) - one thing in common for all this stories - awkward first meeting and… friends to lovers? And basically idiots in love trope

Household cook?

Let me answer this way - in one of my wips Laz tries to open a can with a fork and cuts his finger, so…

Who's more likely to confess first?

It seems obvious - Laz is the one to make the first move- wait, now when I actually think about it, it's Ben (in my fics) that's almost always seems to snap first

Golden retriever/black cat?

Laz is the golden retriever, Ben is the cat

Event/activity one would force the other into?

Laz would make Ben attend a cosplay event, they both would be dressed as stormtroopers so no one would know it's them. (I definitely have not started on a drawing with them as stormtroopers…)

Ben would make Larry throw away all of his lego sets boxes bc they clutter the space and-

"Laz, have you actually deassembled any of this and put it back into a box? Like ever? Because if not, we're throwing it all awa-"

"-but-"

"-this way we're gonna have more space for new sets."

"…"

"…"

"Okay."

What I am currently writing?

I have 11 wips, and I would love to finish ANY of them… some are too short, some are way too long. There are funny ones (I hope), and hot ones. Every story has an unhealthy amount of angst, and one is sad as hell

When and where do I draw?

I draw at night, I don't really have time during the day. I take my ipad to bed, snuggle in with my cat, put some music on (I can't be left alone with my thoughts) and I draw until I hear my neighbour slam the door outside - every day at 4am - and then I go to sleep and wake up at 8 to go to work

A fragment of my crazy rickbond post apocalyptic dystopian world AU wip ↴

“Hey.”

Larry looked up, yanking out the cloth stuck behind the waistband of his pants, and wiping his greasy hands on it.

“…”

“Well, hello Ben! How was your day? Have you killed someone over a piece of junk again, today?”

Larry rolled his eyes and placed his hand on the seat of the bike, pushing himself off the ground with a huff.

“What you want?”

“A bit of tenderness?”

“Don’t we all?” Larry whispered under his breath and threw the cloth on the ground. “You got something for me?”

Ben sent him a small smile and pulled out a rusty bit of metal from behind his back.

“Happy birthday.” He waved his hand in front of Larry’s face.

“It’s not my birthday.” The younger man grumbled and snatched the part from Ben’s hand.

“Every day is your birthday when you get gifts like that,” Larry sighed and placed the part on the seat of the bike. “and you didn’t tell me when your birthday is, so I’m gonna celebrate it every day.”

“Are you done? I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh… come on,” Ben chuckled. “I know it’s all fucked up but at least we can laugh about it, right?”

Larry looked up and frowned.

“Right…”

Ben walked over and sat on a wooden crate, placing his elbows on his knees and releasing a deep sigh.

Okay, so is he planning on just sitting here?

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Ben raised his head and smiled sadly.

“Not really.”

Okay, great.

The bike Larry was working on was actually his for once. He was grounded. All because of the damaged needle valve - small piece of shit that you can’t actually fix. You have to get a new one to even start the fucking engine.

Larry made a promise to himself.

Once he’ll get one, he will leave.

“Can you go be annoying somewhere else?” Larry dropped to his knees and fidgeted with one of the cables sticking out from behind the seat of the bike.

“You’re being mean, I thought you're a nice guy,” Ben sounded defeated. “aren’t you?”

“No,” Larry muttered. “I’m not.”

...

───

this may be the weirdest thing I’ve ever written, blame the Mad Max movies