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deadgirlwalking91 · 1 day

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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.”

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.

#hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guardrock #guitarspear #guitarspear fic #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin lute #fic collab #hazbin hotel one shot #guitarspear one shot #vaggie is SUCH a good friend

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shirehobbit · 4 months

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CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE AFTER MONTHS OF BEING ON TICKETEK MARKETPLACE I FINALLY GOT ERAS TOUR TICKETS TODAY WHAT THE FUXKKKKK 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣😭😭😭

#lia talks #G RESERVE BUT ILL TAKE IT AAAAAAAAAAA #tho now that I’ve got a system set up I might try for better seats #and if I do pass these on to others who missed out in me life #JESUS CHRIST WHAT A TRIP #and it pinged as I was getting ready for work too #I was like no luck all weekend but let me just try a little bit Monday morning #cause I work in a lab so I only have limited time to try #unlike people who work from home who can be on all day #AAAAAAAAAAH #taylor swift #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTH TO ME

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wyvernest · 9 months

Text

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning.

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased.

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck.

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress.

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions.

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him.

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear.

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go.

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips.

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it.

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts.

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

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l0vergirls · 8 months

Text

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

#might focus on tim's part in all this next time!!!#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #— dc.#— the bats.#— yan writes.

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diejager · 7 months

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wondering how doesn't reader get pregnant after a lot of action with both horangi and könig, especially when König prefers to breed reader rather than his wife.

also do they have breeding kink? and what would be reader's reaction if there's a possibility of pregnancy, that would be so dramatic ig coming from reader's mom.

I hope this answered your question! cw: breeding kink, drug replacement?, mention of abortion, forced pregnancy, mention of stalkholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

The answer is simple: you either take pills, or got an IUD installed (honestly, that’s what I have since I have so many friends who’ve told me that pills have bothersome side effects and I’m forgetful so I won’t be able to remember to take them every day.).

A) If you take pills, König will replace them with a placebo, he has his ways, relationships built on years of work and alliance. So it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone who can produce placebos for your birth control. Since he’s made a habit of staying near you whenever he can, seeing as he’s retired, it would be weird if he went out for so long. He has Horangi pick it up, meeting with the agent who’s sent to give them a year worth of box.

B) If you had an IUD installed, he’ll search your room for that little card it comes with when you’re not home, look at the date and he has two options. 1) if he doesn’t want to wait the time, be it a year or two, anything between one and five, he’ll talk to you about taking it out. 2) if he can wait, he’ll use the time to break you in, let you settle with this relationship and get you used to the dynamic they have in mind. Patience is a virtue after all, like a little pet project of theirs.

They definitely have a breeding kink. Ironically enough, they’re family men, a bit rough on the edges and tactile in their ways, very touchy-feely. They like to be hands on, holding you down as they fill you up, fingers bruising your skin with brands, to let people - and you - that you belong to them. König might be fidgety, never being one to sit still and do nothing, but he is patient, like a predator in hiding. Horangi’s a tiger in a hunt, slow and steady steps, certainty exhuming from every decision he takes. They don’t make a decision without telling the other, Horangi and König are a team, they were and always will.

Whichever contraceptive you took, it wouldn’t mater much in the end, you’d end up with morning nausea and a positive on your test. You’re in tears, balling your eyes out and panicking, breathe rapid and shallow, near hysteric as your mind goes through all the different scenarios of what ifs. You might’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of your situation, pregnant with the child of your stepfather or your neighbour. What would your family think? Your mother who’s oblivious and ignores your cries for help; your father who didn’t know where wen after your mom indefinitely cut your contact; or your living grandparents that lives God knows where.

Unlike you, hysteric and frantically searching for a solution to your problem, König is excited, calling Horangi to tell him the great news of your pregnancy. He has a smile on his lips when he finds you, shushing your tears and cooing soft praises. König tells you what a good mother you’d be, what a responsible Stay-at-home mother, with gentle hands and loving lips. When Horangi’s here, he picks you up, holding you in his arms and peppers you in kisses, a few deep, feverish ones, full of passion, and a few wild ones on the corner of yours lips and your cheeks.

Your mother is less frantic than you, worried, but not panicking. As a mother, she’ll ask about the pregnancy, who the father is (knowing you weren’t one to sleep around), and help you. You’re embarrassed at yourself, unable to tell her that the two men in the room are the kid’s father. You’re silent, head bowed down in shame and fidgeting, anxious and terrified, you were in your army 20’s, still in University to finish your bachelor’s degrees and now you’re pregnant. Horangi steps up, telling her that you’ve been having relationships with him - excluding the fact that her husband had a hand in everything as well - in occasions. She’s seen how close you are with Horangi, nearly sitting on his lap at times and often seen in his company.

She’s supportive, ignorent of all the mess in your life. Granted, she’s a bit disappointed, but you’re an adult, she can’t dictate your life like her parents did to her. So all she can do is support you, take l’ombre time off to walk you through the basics of parenthood and the nausea and emotional rollercoaster a pregnancy brought. You want to tear your hair out from the roots down at how oblivious your mother is, but you’re scared of getting an abortion, or if it’s legal at all.

Your angry, stressed and panicked, emotions flaring up with your unfortunate situation with no one to talk to, to turn to, all you want to do is cry. What can you do when you have an ignorant mother and two possessive and criminally wrong men with bloody hands and unrestrained connections.

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

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mellowwillowy · 7 months

Text

Yan! Boyfriend x GN Reader

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 , NSFW

Yan! Boyfriend who you thought to be a golden retriever only to have him turn into a Doberman the moment you are away from him.

Yan! Boyfriend who is the "all 5 love language combo" for you and you only!

Act of service? Fun, especially when his head is buried into your crotch. That aside, yes he does all those sweet ass stuffs. Anything you think of, he has done it, even to the very most downbad shit you could think of.

Physical touch? PDA if you are into that, else either a hand around your thigh, squeezing them with love or shit ton of pecks.

Words of affection? 'My love looks so gorgeous as usual! What a refined beauty my love is, no wonder I can't stop falling head over heels for you!' And you were on the bed with bad hair, drooling on your pillow.

Gifting? How many gifts have you received today from him? Starting from something little to something large? The most surprising would be him coming home with a pet for you.

"Ta-daaa! You've been saying you want a pet so I think you will like this!"

Quality time? Not a problem for him. He has a lot of time for you. Hm? Work? Better not question him further about it. All that matters is that it's enough to give the two of you more than enough, even allowing the two of you to laze around. (Unlike Yan! Lawyer Husband and Yan! Antagonist who barely has any time for darling pfft-)

Yan! Boyfriend who is practically on his knees like a dog waiting for his treat when you are about to do something ✨️ r o m a n t i c a l ✨️ on him. Say who's a good boy and you could have sworn you saw his non-existent tail wagging excitedly.

"Who's a good boy hm? Who's a gooood boy??"

"Me! Blue! Blue is a good boy!"

Well, at least he is now because he wasn't when you first met him. He's changed a lot just for you, didn't want to disappoint you the next time you see him.

Yan! Boyfriend is the guy who you can really depend on for everything. Financially? Yes. Wanna beat the fuck out of someone? Call him and that person will have a taste of all the martial arts he has learned back then, not to mention he was quite the delinquent back then. Mentally? Yes. He's always there for you, either making it worse or better.

Yan! Boyfriend who likes to show you off to his friends and co-workers so much as though you are his prized possession. The hand that never leaves your waist and the dagger he shot at the people who stared at you for a bit too long are threatening enough to scare them away. Will definitely have a separate chat with them later,

"The fuck you are looking at my love for hm?"

Ignore how their nose is red and bleeding okay? If only Blue was able to do more, he would have had his fist buried into their face even more and harder like in the good ol' days. Has no choice but to be good else someone might rat to you about his behavior again.

Yan! Boyfriend who really likes to sleep on your lap, being able to feel you this close just makes him feel all giddy like a teenager in love. Would litter kisses and licks if you are not wearing anything that covers your thighs.

Yan! Boyfriend who will almost have the same taste in music as yours because he's just like that. Sucking in everything about you and ends up liking it.

Yan! Boyfriend who will vibe with you nonstop. If you are the crack type person, he will just be as crack as you, making people think whether the two of you are high in crack or not. Will always make you feel like it's okay to do anything you want without having to be embarrassed. Too shy to sing? Well, watch him scream his lungs out (Lemon and Grape chilling with ear muffs) and his hand motioning you tag along.

"BABY WON'T YOU LOOOOVEEE MEEEE"

"What do you say we gag him up with the mic?"

"Great, I'll hold him by the neck."

Yan! Boyfriend who really loves watching you sleep. No, he's not a somnophilic bastard like Yulian. He just adores seeing you resting so peacefully. (while Eleanor panicking over darling sleeping)

Yan! Boyfriend who enjoys cooking breakfast for you. You'll wake up greeted with him standing by the kitchen or sitting by the dining table waiting for you to wake up. Hm? If the food has gone cold because you woke up late, he'll just reheat it. Nothing biggie so no need to feel bad about it ^^

Yan! Boyfriend who is always keeping his mental state in check just in case it cracks open the ugly side of him again. He's embarrassed of it yet he is grateful for it because it brought the two of you to meet. Just staying next to you is enough to keep him sane so try not to stray too far from him okay? He might really snap again and the place you once called home might be nothing but ruins.

"Love you... dear."

Yan! Boyfriend who hates being away from you! If his work suddenly requires him to be somewhere away from you, he will bring you along with him! (I might make a chart of the difference for all the LIfE Pro casts)

"Almost feels like a vacation eh? Let's visit this place once I'm done with work love!"

Although he always brings you along, there are times when he'll have to leave you with Lemon or Grape, either asking them to stay with you or you stay over their place.

"Try not to dent his sport car again yeah? He was yapping at me for hours ahaha! I will ask Grape to watch over you as well, she'll do well as your nanny. Hm? Not a little kid anymore? Oh no no, better be safe than sorry. Don't want those nasty ghosts keeping you awake during the night yeah?"

Afternote:

Blue is my second favorite! Yulian has always been the first so no one sees Blue that much... he's just so sweet... although the story he shares with Eleanor tangles everything up...

#LIfE Project #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader #yandere husband

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oval3000 · 6 months

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Yandere CEO Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warning: Toxic behavior, age gap, Violence, death, daddy kink, very toxic, smut, porn with a little plot, grumpy Miguel. Modern au- ish. The reader understands Spanish.

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Prologue: Your mother was the type of mother who would move from boyfriend to boyfriend. She could never keep a man on her hip for a long period of time, which was one of the reasons why your father was hardly present (he passed away when you were young anyway). Every time she got a boyfriend, she would forget that you're her daughter and would always choose the man over you. When she told you about her new boyfriend, you were over it. Nothing's new here. When you first met Miguel, you honestly didn't bother to learn a lot about him or to remember his name; however, he stuck the longest. You were quite surprised when you saw him more often. When you entered your freshman year of college, that's when she announced that Miguel wanted the both of you to move in with him.

You weren't too thrilled, but you were happy that your mom was getting serious about this. Besides, Miguel seems to be a nice gentleman. As the CEO of a science company, it was very impressive that your mom caught someone like him. He had manners and was humble about his success. He wasn't the type of rich man who would spend a lot of time partying and drinking; he was laid-back and spent more time in his office. You also hardly ever see him smile. Not seeing him smile made you wonder about the relationship between him and your mom. Three months after moving in, your mom's old habits came back. She would go out and party with her friends. She would drink wine every now and then. You know she makes bad choices when she drinks alcohol, so when you saw her coming home late and drunk, you were disappointed. She acted like a high school girl, which made you feel embarrassed. A lot of people would tell you to give your mom a break and that having a child can be difficult, so you shouldn't judge a mother for having 'fun'. But when you were little, she was late to pick you up from school because she was too busy at the mall with her friends; it made you feel unnoticed. Or when she would miss your school events when they gave you an award for what you're good at because she was too hungover from last night's fun; it made you feel unwanted. Or when one of her boyfriends dragged you outside of the house because you didn't want to leave so they could have some 'alone time' and your mom yelled at you for not listening, it made you feel unloved. Sure, moms have a right to live their lives, but they also have a responsibility to care for their children.

Your mother never really had a job growing up; the both of you relied on money from the man she would be with. This caused your grandparents to yell at your mom when you were little, telling her that she needed to grow up and get a job. Your mom would reply by saying that she never chose this life, and now that she's in it, she could do whatever she pleases. So to be fair, it's not that shocking that she got involved with a rich guy like Miguel.

Sadly, you can say that your concerns were right. You were in your bedroom. After a year of staying at a luxurious house, you are now sitting in your new bed, hearing an argument between your mother and her boyfriend downstairs. The first time you ever heard them argue was at the moment Miguel caught your mom sleeping with other men.

"You're working all the time, so obviously I'm going to get bored here!" your mother yelled at Miguel.

"Oh, so sleeping with other men while I provide for you is totally acceptable, my bad," Miguel argued back.

"Please is not like you would do the same!" Your mom's hands were flying in the air.

He pointed to her with his eyebrows forward and his eyes getting dark. "No, I wouldn't! Unlike you, I have morals."

"Really!? How about that day I caught you doing you know what!" Ah, yes. The day she caught him doing something quite interesting. "Oh whatever, I'm going out. Besides I have a new man who knows how to pleasure me." You could hear the front door slam loudly. Did your mom leave? Did she leave without telling you? Did she leave you alone with her now ex-boyfriend? Is Miguel no longer in your life?

You looked out and saw, with the little opening from your door, Miguel going back and forth from his bedroom back downstairs. You really make out what you can see, but it was clear that he was carrying out suitcases. Most likely your mom's things. Does this mean you have to move out as well? Do you need to start packing? You got up from your bed as Miguel was entering back to his bedroom pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did my mom leave."

He turned around giving you the usual expression he has. "Um....y-yeah she did."

"I'm sorry, I'll leave as soon as possible I'll just pack my things." You were about to enter your room when Miguel stopped you.

"No!" You stopped your tracks and turned to him. "no...I mean. Stay. I don't know where your mom left and I won't like it if you're out there alone. So stay."

You gave him a nod, "O-okay."

It's been five months since your mother left you with her ex-boyfriend. You tried contacting her, but all the calls and text messages were left hanging. You have no clue where she went. Did she actually forget about you? Was she so caught up with her own drama that she forgot about her daughter? Yes, you're an adult, but she left you living with a stranger.

The communication between you and Miguel has been dry. Well, they're always dry. At times during dinner, it would be quiet that no one spoke. Most times, while he's busy at his office, it'll just be you eating alone. You immediately felt guilty that you were using his money, so you quickly got a part-time job so you didn't have to rely on him. You don't really plan to live with him forever, right?

One day after you finished your classes, you decided to go on an apartment hunt. You really felt more comfortable moving out. You have no business living there. Luckily, you're able to find a small, affordable place to live. Not ideal, but you'll take whatever seems fit.

It was close to your college and it was perfect for one person, which is all you need.

When you went back, you couldn't seem to hide the happy smile on your face that you couldn't see Miguel sitting on the couch in the living room." What are you so happy about?" He questioned.

His voice caught you off guard it made you jump a bit. "sorry, I didn't see you there. Um...I found a place to live, so I would be out of your hair soon." You placed your book bag down on the floor.

He got up from the grey leather slate couch and walked towards you. His white dress shirt could barely hide all his muscles, especially with a few buttons undone, revealing more of his tanned chest. "You didn't have to do that, mi amor."

"Well, I can't live here forever and you are going to move on soon so-" You couldn't even finish your sentence.

"When I told you to stay, I meant it." His hand caressed the side of your arm. " Estas tan hermorsa, mi amor. (You're so beautiful, my love)." He grabbed your chin to lift your head up so your eyes could meet his. His touch made you feel some type of way. His serious look made you feel something. You shouldn't feel this. This isn't okay. He shook his head lightly, "How can you afford your own place?"

"I- I got a part-time job and I've been saving up." You took a step back, but only for him to follow you more in. "I just don't see why I have to stay here. My mom is not here and the only reason why I'm here is because of her."

"Let me take care of you." He leans in closer to you. "Let me be with you." His last words were a faint whisper that you couldn't hear it well.

"Miguel, I don't think this is appropriate?" You moved your head to the side, walking away from him. "It's best if I move. I don't think this is right."

"Stay." He says.

"No, I can't." You reply to him with his back turned to you.

He turned to you. "Please stay."

You looked around the house. "It's the best for the both of us if I move out of here. One day, you'll get a girlfriend." Miguel closed his eyes and shook his head."..And..I'll get a boyfriend."

He quickly made his eye gaze to look at you and with a swift speed, he walked up to you. "Boyfriend?" His speed made lose your breath a bit. Your body tense up at how tall his structure is. "Is that why you wanted to move out? You have a boyfriend."

You looked at him confused. Why does he seem bothered by this? you thought. "huh?- No. I mean, not now at least. But I will eventually. Just like how you'll get a new partner."

"No. I won't allow that to happen." He grabbed the side of your arms a bit harshly.

"M-Miguel?" You breathed out.

"You aren't moving out. You aren't leaving here, and you're certainly not going to have a fucking boyfriend." Miguel leaned into your ear saying all of these things to you and you felt completely frozen.

You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him off a bit so you could get out of his strong grip. You walked away from him so far that you felt the big bookcase behind your back. "What's the matter with you! You're my mom's ex-boyfriend. You're older than me. You aren't the boss of me and you are not going to shove me around like the others!" You felt your eyes get glossy. Your eyes opened wide with now hearing everything you had said. You shouldn't treat him like this. He has given you shelter and food. Without him offering you to stay, you'll be homeless right now. "I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to"

Miguel felt his hands forming a tight fist. "Like the others?"

"No, I don't know what I'm talking about" You palmed your head trying to fix the situation.

He walked closer to you. He didn't break eye contact with you. "Has anyone ever hurt you?" You didn't say anything back which made him frustrated. "Answer me."

You looked up and realized how close he was to you. No matter how far you get away from him, he seems to always find a way to be close to you. "N-no. It's stupid. Just forget what I said. I'll move out and none of this ever happened okay."

"It's not okay! You're. Not. Leaving. Now tell me what you mean by others or I swear I'll do something you won't love." He looked at you with anger in his eyes. He's a very intimidating man. The most intimidating man you ever met. He held your wrist with one of his hands while his eyes were filled with hatred.

You felt your body tremble with his presence." Y-yes. But it wasn't constant. It was just when one of my mom's ex-boyfriends got angry they took it out on me. It's not bad and it's not serious. Please let go of me."

Miguel took a deep breath before letting you go. "I'm not like the others."

"You sure act like them." You said, but instantly regretted it.

"Mi amor, be careful about what you're going to say next. I really, really don't want to hurt you. So please, be a good girl and do whatever I fucking tell you." Miguel lifts his chin up making his statue be more bigger and taller.

"Why can't I leave? Wouldn't it be easier if I left? I won't cause you any more problems if I leave." You plea to him trying to get reason with him.

He walked away from you, throwing his hands around. "Por dios! that's enough about you leaving! I don't want to hear it anymore!" He screamed at you making you feel weak.

"I was wrong about you. I thought that you were good, but I was wrong. You're just like her ex-boyfriends. All of you!Jerks! Now I understand why she did what she did!" You felt your body tremble with how slowly he was walking back to you.

"If you think bringing up that bitch of your mother is going to get me mad then you are wrong. I! Don't! Care! About her! I'm glad that bitch left." He towered over you, "Now, comparing me to those low-life fucking men, you really just want to push my buttons, sweetheart."

"I hate you!" You felt a small speck of tears falling down in the corner of your eyes, feeling it rolling down your cheek.

"Hate me all you want, it won't change the fact that you are staying no matter what. You aren't leaving me." He grabbed both of your wrists pulling you closer to you. He gripped your face, pinching both of your cheeks with his fingertips. "You. Are. MINE!"

He dragged you back to his bedroom. You kept kicking and screaming, but he didn't care, he kept dragging you to his bed. "Please let go of me! I'm sorry!" You begged him to let you go. He opened his bedroom door and pulled you in holding your waist. He threw you on top of the bed. He shut the door and locked it. You quickly pulled yourself together using his pillows as a shield. "Please don't hurt me! Please!" you sobbed.

He grabbed your ankles and pulled you down, sliding you near the edge of the bed. He separated your legs apart and got between them. His eye contact wasn't breaking off with you, following your head movements all around. He grabbed your face again to make you look at him more clearly. "You're gonna behave?" You nodded feeling the hot tears rolling down. "You'll do what I say. You will live here. You will become my wife and you will be mine. End of story."

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The sound of the hot oil and vegetables sizzling filled the entire kitchen. The sound of the front door opening and closing made the chef hurry and place the finished food onto two plates. The chef fixed his white apron and stood by the dining room table with the food ready to be eaten. He saw Miguel waking in wearing his black blazer with his white dress shirt. "Sir, the food is ready."

"Okay, thank you." Miguel took off his blazer letting out a sigh. Work can get complicated for Miguel, so his coming home a little tired was normal. He could hear another pair of footsteps coming closer to him. He looked to his side and saw you standing there.

You stood in front of him with your fingers fiddling with each other. "Hi." You said softly.

He leaned over, giving you a light kiss on the lips. You accepted it. You accepted a lot of things without resisting anymore. He gave a smile and peck on the cheek. "After we eat, I want to take a bath with you."

You nodded as you took your seat on the dining room table. The chef left back to the kitchen to clean up leaving you and Miguel all alone. Not the first time the both of you have been alone, but now it's different. Now you share his bed. Now you give him a kiss on the lips when he leaves for work. Now the both of you shower together and bathe together when he wants to. The first time he wanted to do this, you protested, but it only resulted in him dragging you and stripping you naked.

He hasn't been intimate with you, but you know when that time comes, your cries won't help you.

You've been with him for six months. Six months of you and him sharing a bed together. In total, you've been in the house for two years now. No word from your mother not like you cared anymore. Miguel made you take online college so you don't have to leave the house. As for the part-time job you had, Miguel had to go in and apologize that you can no longer work. Miguel being rich and successful gave him respect for his name so no one questioned him. Miguel brought in his lawyers to deal with your bank account so you can use his instead whenever you feel like it. If you want to buy clothes or shoes online or anything that you like, you can get by using his money. Recently, he's been discussing marriage licenses with his lawyers. He does want you to have a big wedding, but to make it easy, just getting your marriage license and certificate was enough.

Besides, who are you going to invite to a wedding you're being forced to.

"How was work?" You asked.

"Tiring. It would be a whole lot easier if these interns knew what they were doing instead of keeping their hands in their pants. I swear they changed the ways of teaching now. Don't know how they graduated." He swallowed his food, taking a sip of water. "Speaking of which, I talked to the administrator and they will accept you in to finish college there if you want it. Sure, it'll still be online, but you'll get the education you want." Due to your mother relying on her past boyfriends to cover her finances, you didn't exactly have the benefits of choosing your dream college. Miguel insisted for him to get you in. "Although, I don't see why you'll need it. You have me." He has told you that you won't need the degree. Why? Your future husband is filthy rich and intelligent. "How about If I gave two options. Choose to finish college or I'll give two days to go outside every week." It's been six months since you stepped foot outside. You remember the last time you were out in public. It was when you were looking for a place to live. Miguel ended up buying that entire apartment building, flipping it and now owns it. He doesn't really go there or actually work there, he just hired people to run it really. Because of this, people loved him due to his kindness in getting people jobs on top of that he gave people good homes at affordable prices. He's a real hero to the people.

Finish college or go outside two times every week. On the one hand, you want to finish your goal to finish your studies. On the other, you really wanted to go outside and finally breathe some air. what is the catch though? What's the point? If you do finish college, that degree will sit in the closet collecting dust. If you choose to go outside, what else will there be to it? Do you want a little bit of freedom you can get? Or waste your time doing something you're not going to need?

Miguel can see your head thinking of these two options. "If choose to go out, I'll hire two bodyguards to be with you at all times."

What to choose? What to pick?

The water of the bath was warm and it felt relaxing. Your back was resting on Miguel's torso. You could feel his rock-hard abs and chest. Your head rested on one of his pecks. You felt his arms embracing you. You felt the warmth of his body all over you. The last of the bubbles from the body wash went away from your body and his. The sound of water wooshing around filled the bathroom. "I want to go outside." You finally said.

Miguel smiled at you, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

The smile you had never seen before. The smile you thought that never existed on this man was now showing.

You met two bodyguards Miguel hired. They rarely spoke. They hardly made contact with you which wasn't weird. Miguel told them what they had to do while they were in his home office. You waited outside, ready to go out for the first time in six months.

When they finally got out, they took you outside. Miguel kissed you on the lips and told you to have fun.

The two guards were on your side at all times. Even when you were in the bathroom with a bunch of stalls, the female bodyguard went in with you. When any other male figure even turned their heads to you, the male bodyguard gave them a look. The two guards wore sunglasses so you don't even though the color of their eyes.

One thing for sure though, is that they noticed how you didn't buy anything during your trips to the mall or any store. They dressed this to Miguel since they had to report everything you did whenever you would go out.

Eventually, it led to Miguel talking to you. The both of you were in bed getting ready to sleep when you felt his arm wrapping around your torso. "Don't hesitate to buy anything you want. If you want it then get it, mi amor. My money is your money."

If you spend his money it means that you have accepted this fate. You've accepted him and this new life. Are you ready to accept it?

The sun was shining through making everything hot and glow. The beautiful tiles on the floor and little square pots with trees in every other corner and center. People walk by with their shopping bags looking for their store to shop in. The outside mall is probably one of your favorite spots. Look at you, just like your mother. The two guards by your side, walking along with you. The only thing you got was a pretzel. You don't know what you want? Why are you there in the first place?

You offered your pretzal bites to the guards, but they didn't accept it. They're really serious about this then. You ended up seeing a nice jacket on display. It was a jacket perfect for your style. You entered in looking for it. When you finally found it you checked the price and cringed at how expensive it was for you. Do you really need to spend that kind of money on a jacket? Are you even going to wear it?

You let your mind turn off and your body control you. You grabbed the jacket from the rack and made your way to the front counter. The cashier asked you if you found everything okay and you replied yes. When she said the total, you grabbed the card that Miguel gave you and pressed it on the little card reader. When the machine said 'approved' you sighed with how dumb this decision might've been. You walked out of the store and told the guards that you were ready to go home.

Little did you know that one of your mom's friends saw you walking out?

When you got home, Miguel asked you how the trip to the mall was and the guard told them everything that you did. He then asked to see you wear the jacket. You put on the jacket and showed it to him. He got up from his chair and got closer to you. He palmed your cheek and pulled your face to kiss you on the lips. "It looks gorgeous, mi amor. You look gorgeous."

"I might return it." Still not satisfied with the choice you made. Are you ready for this?

"Why?" He questioned.

"I might not even wear it." You said back to him.

"You could wear it to our first date." He said.

He never took you out on an actual date. He's been too busy with trying to get you used to your life. However, since you have been good lately, he felt like it was ready to take you out somewhere special. "Date?"

"Yes. I want to take you. So, tomorrow, I'll come home early, we'll get ready and enjoy ourselves." He kissed your cheek, tracing his lips closer to your ear. "I want our first time to be special."

You had a hard time sleeping. You kept replaying the things he said to you in his office. When you finally shut your eyes, morning already come. Miguel left early for work so you didn't wake up with him by your side. You had your breakfast that the chef prepared. You went back to the bedroom, walking past your old bedroom that you stayed in. Miguel turned it into a regular guest bedroom or an empty bedroom for future 'family members.' You go through your side of the walk-in closet and pick out an outfit (Whatever style outfit fits you). You laid it out on the bed and started to feel a bit nervous.

You never had a man to treat like this. Is it bad? Is it good? He shut you out from the world and forced you to be with him. Should you be grateful? Is Miguel a complete psycho?

You're going to spend a special night with him. Your first time with him. You never thought it would be him. Yes, he's fit and handsome. Yes, he has everything a woman wants. Yes, he's caring and he's caring to you. Are you ready though?

As hours pass you finally got up and took a shower. You get ready, putting on your shoes that match the outfit perfectly. By the time you finished, Miguel already got home and took a shower. You waited in the living room fiddling with your fingers. Picking a bit of skin in your cuticles. If you had a purse, you would clutch onto the straps. Miguel has mentioned that you don't need to carry a purse when you're with him because he has all you need.

When he got out, he was wearing a dark navy blazer with pants that matched, a white dress shirt, and a red tie. His hair was slick back as usual. You stood up. "eres una belleza, mi amor." he said to you.

He took your hand and led you out of the house and into the back of his black SUV. He sat right next to you with his hand on your thigh. On the ride, you hardly spoke. It was just Miguel talking to you about the place you guys are going. You did wonder where he was going to take you.

When you got out of the car, you saw a big helicopter in front of you. The nervousness came back. You never done this before. You clutched to Miguel's arm for comfort. Really, the only comfort you have. "Don't be scared. I'll be right next to you."

He led you inside the helicopter with his help. You put on the headset and strap in the seat belt. Miguel was talking to the helicopter pilot. The pilot is a dear friend of Miguel and is the one to take Miguel wherever he needs. Miguel pointed out the view by your side and told you to look. When you did, you were in awe at how beautiful it was. All the lights blend in. The sunset setting down. It was amazing.

When the stop was made, Miguel helped you out of the helicopter by grabbing your waist and lifting you down. He held your hand as he guided you inside the big fancy restaurant. The restaurant looked like the inside of a Victorian opera house. You won't be surprised if it was one. The hostess said hi to Miguel and took the both of you into a nice room with a nice round table with a white cloth. It was perfectly decorated. All the staff talked to Miguel as if he was a regular here. Again, you won't be surprised if he comes here often. The hostess handed you the menu, even the menu was fancy. The first thing you did notice was the prices. The prices were through the roof. Not even a side salad was affordable. Do the ingredients have magic powers or something? You thought.

"What're you getting?" Miguel asked, placing the many down on the table. The sound of light jazz music played throughout the restaurant and it sounded like it was live.

"I'm getting (Whatever you want)" You looked out trying to take a peek through the red velvet curtains.

"They're playing jazz on the first floor. They bring in jazz players or pianists to play for the people here. Sometimes an orchestra." He said.

You took a sip of your water admiring the architecture of the place that you are in. When the waiter came in, you told him what you wanted, the same with Miguel. Soon, the both of you are eating the most delicious food you have ever tasted in your life.

"Delicious right?" Miguel saw the way you were enjoying it. You nodded in response. "Five years ago, I went here with some business partners to talk about expanding the way science should be taught. When I first tasted the food, I fell in love with it."

"Your past girlfriends must've been happy being here." You said, softly.

"No. I never took any of my ex-girlfriends here. This is a special place for me. I wanted to bring someone who I knew would enjoy it with me forever. That person is you." He went to grab the check that the waiter put down and put his black card inside, handing it back to the waiter.

He took you back out and enjoyed the night and the stars riding the helicopter. He griped on your thigh as you gripped on his biceps. The wind was nice and it wasn't too harsh so it didn't ruin your hair, but the air felt nice on your skin.

Back home, the lights were dimmed. He started to guide back to the bedroom. This is when you felt fear. You forgot about this part. You were enjoying yourself so much that you forgot the other part of the date. He turned your back to him and started to take off your jacket that you just bought. He held your waist sliding his hand up and down.

He then started to shift your clothes off your body until you were left with your undergarments. He turned you around so you can face him. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and began to take off his clothes. He tugged his red tie and threw on one of the armchairs, unbuttoned his dress shirt, unbuckled his belt, and zipped his pants. When he was in his briefs, you felt your heart racing.

He went in and kissed your neck. leaving trails of wet kisses all over your collarbone. You felt his fingers trying to unhook your bra, but you quickly grabbed his arms to stop him. "Wait. I don't think I can do this."

He stopped kissing you and pulled away to look at you. "Why?"

Why? Is he serious? Why? "Because I don't want it." You saw him placing his hand on his forehead and his other hand on his waist. "Because you're my mom's ex-boyfriend."

"Ay, que caramba! Por dios! ya estoy harto que tu siempre mencionas esto!" He yelled at you. "I don't love her! I don't care about her! She never meant anything to me!" He bent over and hovered over you, "When I first met her, I wasn't planning on being with her. I didn't like her. But when she introduced you to me, I realized who was meant for me."

"Me?" Your eyes widened with what he just confessed.

"Yes! you! It was a pain to sleep next to her knowing that you were in the other room. It was a pain when she gave me a kiss on the lips when you were sitting there watching. I felt heartbroken for you. For you to see it." His eyes were lighted, " So, I worked long hours so I could avoid her. Never meant to avoid you. It worked because when I found out that she slept with other men, it was enough for me to kick her out."

"I don't understand?" Why not just kick her out before?

"I have control, I do. But when you are there, I can't help myself." Miguel remembered the day your mother caught him jerking off while moaning your name. It was the first argument they actually had without you there. You were attending your college course classes during all of this, so how would you know this happened. Your mother was angry. More angry at you for catching his attention than her. It made sense since he never showed any actual interest in your mother, especially in bed. She also felt embarrassed as well that he was more interested in you than her. So she told Miguel that she would leave and take you far away from him, but he didn't want that. If he kicked her out then she would take you with her. However, when he caught her in bed with another man it was enough to get back at her. He knew that she was money-hungry for men, that she'd choose them over you. So when she found her new toy, she was already on her way out. "I never slept with her, If that's what you're worried about? I never did. Most nights I slept in the armchair so I wouldn't be in the same bed as her. At times I would sleep on the couch and leave for work early."

"So..this entire time you wanted..." You felt so dumb to not notice all the signs. There were no signs at all.

"You. I wanted you. Now that I have you here. Sleeping in the same bed as me, I'm not going to let you go. EVER! I want to marry you, kiss you, make love to you, have kids with you, grow old with you. I want you. I need you. I'll kill anyone and anything that gets in our way." He went on and kissed you deeply. He moved you more onto the bed.

He yanked your bra off your body. He started to massage your breast with his large hands. He gripped the line of your panties and pulled them down. He ignored you. Ingorned your cries to stop. It was so into his own head, he didn't hear your plea.

He pulled down his briefs, feeling his cock hardened. He spread your legs apart and starts to circle your clit. He inserted his finger inside and started to pump in and out. He felt the inside of your walls. When he did enough to get you wet, he inserted his cock inside you. He nuzzled in your neck, kissing you, and leaving hickeys all over your collarbone and neck. He let his cock rest inside your pussy for a while so you can get used to his size. He knows that he's big, so he wanted to make sure that you take him well. The pain was through as you dug your nails on his back. Maybe you should enjoy it? You should be grateful.

He moved his hips slowly, moving back and forth. Soon the pace began to fasten. The sound of the bed creaking filled the room. The sound of his grunts and moans entered into your ear. "Fuck. Yes..ahh..mhm~" He placed his hand on the sides of your head and thrust inside you harder and faster. "You're gonna make me cum, baby."

His balls were slapping your ass as he lifted your waist off the bed and fucked you in harder than ever. Your thighs were vibrating with how fast he was going. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other echoed in the room. When he felt like he was going to ejaculate, he embraced you into him, and you felt your breast against his own muscle pecks. "Ah! Fuck! Take my cum, sweetheart." He felt his semen injecting inside you. He felt your womb being filled up that some of his cum spilled out and ran down his balls. You held on to him tight feeling your body being filled up by him. Your thighs shook with how hard he fucked you. Your tears were now dried up and your sobs turned into slight whimpers. You felt your face heating up. An older man just took your virginity. You felt ashamed, but good at the same time.

"I'm not done with you, mi amor." He huffed as the last drop of cum left his still-rocked hard cock. He sat down on the bed and pulled you on top of him. You sat between his legs as he spread your legs apart once more. His fingers went down and started to play with your clit. You covered your mouth to stop you from moaning, but it angered Miguel. "Don't! I wanna hear you, querida"

"M-Miguel...Ahh~ mmm..." You felt his fingers flicking your clit and rubbing it slowly. You wanted him to go faster. His other hand went and groped your breast, he pinched your nipple while rubbing your throbbing clit. "It...Ahhh! it feels good, Miguel! Ahhh~....mmm~...faster please."

"Want me to go faster?" the tip of his finger was gently circling your clit that was begging for him to get abused.

"Yes! Mmmm~....Yes! Please!" Your head was thrown back at the feeling of his touch.

"Yes what, mi amor?" He pinched your clit and moved it side to side, slowly.

"Yes!...oh god!...Mhmmm~...ngh..faster!...." You felt your lips opening your pussy with the amount of pleasure you are feeling. The wetness filled all over your area. You felt wetness and some of his cum leaking out to the bed. Miguel's thought of you squirting all over the bed turned him on even more. The bed filled with your juices made him more horny than ever. You felt his rock-hard cock on your back. It didn't help that with his movements he was making towards your clit was making you squirm your back, rubbing his cock in the process. "Please.. go faster...Ahh!...Ngh...yes Daddy~."

With that, he rubbed your clit at a fast speed. "Like this, mi amor."

Your pussy was getting wet and wet with each orgasm you were having. "Yes..Ahh!..ooh!..mmm~!"

Sweat was dripping down your face and body. "This pussy is so good. I'm gonna fucking abuse this pussy. Yes, baby. Yeah~." He slapped your clit a couple times which caused a few leaks to spray out.

"Yes! Yes!~" Your eyes were closed shut. Your breath was losing control.

"Who's this pussy belong to." He slapped your clit one more time. "Is this daddy's pussy baby..yeah. Fuck! Your so fucking wet." He slapped your entire pussy feeling the wetness on his hand. He rubbed your clit even more but would stop just to see it twitch. "This clit is so juicy. This belongs to me. Look at it throb. Fuck! You're driving me insane amor!"

Soon you felt like you were going to explode. You didn't care about the mess, you wanted the pleasure to continue. You arched your back and felt your pussy squirting all over the bed sheets. A pool of your juices formed under your ass cheeks.

It didn't stop. It never stopped. He inserted his fingers inside you again and played with your walls. He wasn't pumping in and out, he was rubbing your walls on the inside. He opened your pussy even more and you felt another gush of your juices squirting out again. The bed sheets were drenched with all your juices. "It's like a waterfall." He continued to rub your red clit more. He would lick his fingers and go on to flick your clit.

"Oh god! Ahh! Ahh!~" You felt his entire palm rubbing it.

"I want to taste you." He grabbed your clit and abused it even more making you squirt all over.

He picked you up and placed you on the armchair. He kneeled down and spread your legs. He saw a good view of your pussy he began to dive in. He licked you all over. "Fuck! It's so good! Don't stop! Don't stop...oh~" you screamed out. You gripped his head and felt his tongue flicking more of your clit. He felt a small spray of your juices landing on his face. He can't get enough. He wanted to drown in it. "Yes! Fuck me! Daddy! Fuck me! This pussy is yours!" Another gush of squirt left your body. Miguel went in and drank as much of it as he could.

He told you to kneel on the floor and you did. He sat down on the armchair and told you to open your mouth. When you did, he shoved his cock inside your mouth.

You looked at him and felt the warmth of his cock down your throat. He bobbed your head up and down moaning. "Fuck!...you like sucking my cock baby...shit!...mmm~...oh fuck." It didn't take too long for him to cum inside your mouth. He pulled out and let the rest of his cum spray all over your face. "Ahh~...shit....look at you...covered with my semen...Open your mouth, mi amor." You did. You showed him the cum inside your mouth. "Swallow it~"

He wanted to cover you with more of his cum so he started to jerk off. "Touch yourself. I want you to touch yourself, mi amor."

You sat on the floor and spread your legs to show him your full view of your sensitive spot. You never touched yourself before. You picked on your clit and felt it warm and wet. You went all out and fingered your clit with your hand while the other was keeping you up. You closed your eyes and rested your head back. "Look at me. I want to see you." Miguel said, feeling his balls bouncing up and down. You looked at him, biting your lip, feeling tears going down with how good the pleasure was. Your legs couldn't stop shaking with how much you're stimulated. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you felt more squirt coming out of you. You came too early that you wanted to insert a finger inside you. So you ignored that cum and shoved a finger inside. You never felt the inside of your walls. The fact that Miguel was watching it was making you act crazy. "Good girl. Fuck...you're such a good girl.." He huffed and swallowed the little bit of saliva in his mouth. He felt cum about to come out, but he stopped himself making him edge.

You played with your pussy, digging inside and rubbing your walls until you found your g-spot. Your legs tremble as your fingers got covered with more of your own cum. A pool formed on the floor filled with pussy juice.

Miguel moaned out as cum sprayed out of his penis and covered your face.

You don't know how long the two of you were at. He came inside you three more times and made you squirt so many times, you felt your legs going numb.

You don't remember the rest of the night. When you woke up, you felt fresh new bedsheets over you. Your skin felt clean and smooth. When you tried to get out of bed, your legs felt so sore that you couldn't budge.

You heard the bedroom door open and saw Miguel in nothing but sweatpants. "Good morning, mi amor" He was carrying a tray of food and brought it to your side.

"What time is it?" You asked.

"It's already noon. I woke up thirty minutes ago." He placed the tray on your lap.

"You didn't go to work?" You took a sip of the water, feeling your body getting hydrated.

"Why would I go to work after the night we both had." He smiled remembering all of the things you both had done. "Last night..was the best night I ever had. I love you."

He loves you. "I don't..I don't remember what else happened..how-"

He let out a small chuckle, "it's alright, cariño. I changed the bedsheets and gave the both of us a bath. When I put you back on the bed, you immediately knocked out. You were so tired mi vida. Next time I'll go gentle on you, I'm sorry."

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

It's been a few days since that night. Everything went back to how it was. Miguel was more physical with you. The two guards were still there when you wanted to go out.

Eventually, Miguel told you that he wanted to take you where he works that way you could have a feel for what he does. He never brought it anyone personal, or anyone at all. So when people saw him bringing you, they were shocked. He showed you all of the building and what exactly each person does. For someone who works at a very large building with many, many people, he has a good memory of the names of his employees.

Miguel had to excuse himself to you when he was called into an important meeting. You went and saw a vending machine outside the cafeteria and decided to get yourself a little snack. You were about to put in some quarters from your pocket when you heard another male voice behind you. You turned around and a guy wearing a lab coat and his name tag on the little pocket of the coat. "Sorry." You moved to the side, but he followed along. You looked to your sides and saw no one around.

"What a pretty girl like you doing here?" The guy said.

"Um..my boyfriend brought me here." You said.

"Boyfriend? Always the pretty ones get taken. So who's the lucky guy? Or are you just lying?" You excused yourself and started to walk away.

He ran up to you, "So what's your name?" He said.

"Why?" You questioned.

"Can't I know the pretty girl's name?" He said in almost an offended tone.

"I have to go." You walked a bit faster, but you could hear his footsteps getting closer to you. You didn't want to cause any trouble, especially at Miguel's work.

You also certainly didn't want to make Miguel mad. Everything was going good, you didn't want to anger him.

Your prayers have been heard because the two guards came and told the guy to basically fuck off. You never thought you would be happy to see your two guards. "Please don't tell Miguel about this. I don't want him to worry. I don't want to cause trouble. Please."

They didn't reply, which was the usual for them to do, but you hoped that they'd listen.

When Miguel finished his meeting, he met up with you and the two of you went back home together.

You thought that the two guards kept the secret because Miguel never mentioned it. He didn't really need to. That guy won't bother you ever again.

While the both of you were enjoying dinner, the doorbell rang. You looked at Miguel who looked back at you confused.

Who's here at this time?

Miguel went to answer it and saw someone he never thought he'd see. "What are you doing here?"

The woman rolled her eyes and made her way inside the home. "You'd think I'll just leave? Just like that?" She snapped her fingers.

You made your way to the front door and saw her. Your mother.

You can tell she changed her looks..again. Your mother looked at you and gave you a disgusted look. "So it is true. You're with her!"

"What are you talking about?" Miguel asked.

"A little birdy told me that she was out shopping at an expensive store." She crossed her arms. "I know she doesn't have money and knowing you and that weird fantasy you had, made me think? Has he really gone all out and started a relationship with my daughter?"

"I'm not your daughter." You said with hatred in your eyes. You had enough of her behavior. Of her stupidity. Of her immaturity.

"Whores don't get to talk!" She screamed at you.

"Don't call her that! The only whore here is you!" Miguel screamed back at her. You went behind Miguel, holding his arm.

"Please! Because of her you lost interest in me! Because of her! Our relationship ended." She yelled.

"Mi amor, go to the room. I'll handle this okay." Miguel told you. You didn't want to but also didn't want to disobey him. You nodded and went to your guy's shared bedroom. You shut the door and climbed on top of the bed.

Miguel stormed up to her with his face fuming with anger. " There was no relationship, you fucking bitch. Me and you never existed. I was only using you to get close to (Y/N). The only one I care about is her. The only one I love is her. You are nothing to me." He saw her hand raising up and swinging forward towards the side of his face, but he saw right through. He caught her hand mid-air, "Don't you fucking dare."

She yanked away from his grip. "I'll tell people about you and her. I'll tell people how you are forcing a young 20-year-old to be in a relationship with you. I wonder how the people are gonna say that a guy in his late 30s is with a young girl without her consent?" She smeared a smirk on her face. "After all, I'm her mother, so people are most likely gonna say 'oh, poor her. She's looking after her daughter from a disgusting man. I Can't believe someone like Miguel O'Hara would do that.' What do you think?"

"I'll make sure to make your life a living fucking hell, you disgusting piece of shit!" His tone was deep and dark and your mom thought she was speaking with the devil.

"Me? Disgusting? At least I didn't masturbate at the thought of a young girl. So let's weigh our options." She looked around at the big fancy house that she used to call home. "You go back to provide for me and I'll let you and that thing I call a daughter to continue dating or whatever the relationship is. Or! I'll tell people about this and ruin your reputation. I mean who would the people believe. Two poor women crying for help or a rich man who got exposed for being a perverted old man."

"So that's what this is all about. Money. What? Did your boyfriend finally realize what a whore you are and left your ass!?" He exclaimed. "You can tell people whatever you want. (Y/N) will never take your side. You heard her! You are not her mother. All the things you had done to her, you really think she will defend on your honor. The only thing she'll do is expose your ass on how much of a terrible mother you are. Uh? Let's see. let's weigh our options." He said mimicking her. " You get the fuck out of my house and never show your face here again. Or we'll expose how you neglected your own daughter for your own benefits and you let other men emotionally abuse her and how you left her alone here with me. I'll tell me people that I gave her a place to live because her own mother was too selfish that she didn't care she was going to make her own daughter homeless."

"She'll listen to me. She'll do what I say. She always does. Deep down, she wants what's best for her mother. What? You think that wasn't the only time she had said that. Please, she throws those tantrums all the time, and in the end, she will always be by my side." She tilted her head," So." She looked at him from top to bottom. "I'll take a check every two weeks. Maybe around 5,000 dollars. Obviously, I'll ask for more later on. That's all I'm asking. Or else, I'll take her away from you."

She turned around with a smile on her face. "Tell (Y/N) I said goodbye."

Miguel couldn't even hear what had been said. Everything was turned into an echo. The fact that she can take you away. Everything Miguel wanted was going to be taken away from him. He felt his blood boil with anger. He felt the hatred increase towards her and he didn't hesitate to grab a mimick mini statue of David sitting on one of the tables. With one swing, he smacked the statue on her head. It caused her to fall down on the floor. Miguel looked at the statue and saw blood on the corner from the base. He looked over on the floor and saw her lifeless body. A pool of blood formed around her corpse. Miguel tapped her with his foot to see if she was still alive, but there was no movement. He didn't freak out. He didn't panic. He smiled. He smiled that she was finally gone.

You waited for Miguel to come in and tell you what had happened. What did she want?

It felt like ages waiting for him.

At last, he finally entered the room. He looked a bit rough. His shirt was half unbuttoned and dirt spots showed on his white shirt. "What happened? What did she want? Why are you dirty?" You questioned. You had so many questions.

"She just wanted some money, I gave her a few hundred dollar bills and told her to never come here again. She was a bit angry but accepted the fact that she couldn't do anything." He explained, taking off his shoes.

"What happened to your shirt and pants?" You pointed it out.

"Well, she stormed off and crushed a couple of the roses out front. I went out and replaced them. That's why I took too long." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.

"She's not coming back?" You asked.

"No. I told her that if she showed her face here again, I'd call the police. I guess that got her scared. It's most likely she's leaving the country or something. She told me she found a new man, so we won't be seeing her." He looked at you and saw how you were tearing up. "Mi Amor? Que tienes?" He got on the bed and crawled to you. He wiped away a tear falling down from the corner of your eye with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's stupid." You couldn't help but let a low sob escape your lips.

"It's not stupid if you're crying. Tell me. I can help you." He said in a concerned tone.

"It's...it's just that...she's my mom. She's my mom and she never cared about me. She never did. Why didn't she love me? What did I do wrong?" You cried to him.

Miguel went over and pulled you into a hug. You sobbed on his chest. He caressed your hair and arms. "Ya mi vida. Forget about her okay. She doesn't deserve your tears. Hey, it's her loss okay. She was never grateful to have a beautiful and kind daughter like you. Any other mother would be happy to have you as a daughter."

"Really?" You looked at him with your glossy eyes.

"Of course, mi vida." He wiped the last tears on your face. "I'm grateful to have you in my arms. You might've not received love from her, but I'll give you all the love and care you deserve. I'll never leave you. I'll love you till the day we die."

You spent the night sleeping in his arms.

Miguel couldn't help but smile at the sight he was seeing. You are finally his. His and forever.

It might've taken a while and a few hardships, but his goal was finally accomplished.

He saved you from a heartache.

He is a hero we all deserve and need.

(That's all. Not sure if I want to continue this story, soooo maybe oneshot?)

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel atsv #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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lovifie · 21 days

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Hiii 🩷

I really loved your ‘Mr & Mrs. Price’ story where his partner he is marrying is younger than him! I was wondering if you had anymore of those stories?

If not, I was wondering if you could write a little after they get married sort of thing. Like would they have kids right away, etc.

Thank you!!

Hi love!! 🩷🩷 Thank you for asking so nicely 💕

At the moment I don't have anything else written for Price and her younger wife, so I'll write you a little bit of what I thought would happen after the wedding.

A continuation to Mr. & Mrs. Price

The first thing would be the honeymoon, and Price gives me the vibes to go somewhere cold, like the Norwegian Fjords (? I don't know why, he just does. Constantly clinging to his wife like: "I'm cold, dear. Can't you see?" Only to sneaky get his hands under your clothes.

Friends and family complain about how little photos you took, but it's just because most of what you took, were taken inside your room. So many, so many pictures of his hand on your body, the gold band on his finger shining on all of them.

So much fluffy/dirty talk. "My dear, wifey... See? I told you I was going to marry you one day, and look at you, Mrs.Price... so fucking beautiful under me..."

Neither of you are surprised when a couple of months later you get a positive pregnancy test.

"We used protection..." Price says, as if that would change something.

"Yeah... Until we run out, Mr. I Pulled Out." You say.

Having a child so quickly after the wedding was neither of your plans, but Price was already talking about taking a step back from the dangerous mission and for some reason neither of you were panicking after the news.

It was a weird feeling, at first at least. But on the doctor appointment, when you hear the little alien's heartbeat it was set. Price's hand holding yours, the whole way back home.

He did step back from the dangerous mission, working at base helping the recruits and helping on the small missions, not wanting to be far from you. So he spent his working hours at base, and one day he forgot some documents at home and asked if you could bring them to him.

So you did.

You grabbed the folder, and drove your pregnant self to base.

Ghost was the one who saw you first, almost as you stepped off the car. And he was immediately on your side, stunned when he saw your belly.

"Are you..." He asked, not wanting to be rude; looking from your stomach to your face.

You quickly nod, the man's eyebrows disappearing under his mask. He took the folder from your hands, as if it was a heavy piece of furniture you were holding making you laugh. "Congratulations... That's what people say, right?"

You nod again, holding onto his arm to ease his mind as you walk towards Price's office. Small talk about how you were planning a baby shower and if he would like to assist, the panic clear on his face making you chuckle again.

"I'm pulling your leg, Simon. I'll send you a message with the important news." You say, patting his arm.

"And I will be forever grateful for it." He says, slowly falling in a comfortable chat with you.

Gaz and Soap walk out of Price's office just as you turn the corner. Both their expression of shock.

"Captain!" Soap calls him, annoyed with just finding out. "Ye got yer missus pregnant already? Ye filthy dog."

Price furrows his eyebrows, walking out and smiling widely. Quickly walking to you to give a kiss on the lips, his hands resting on your tummy.

"How are my girls doing, sweetheart?" He asks, Simon hearing it perfectly.

"Girls? You are having a baby girl?" He asks, making Gaz and Soap repeat it as echo.

You chuckle again, taking the fold from Ghost's hand and handing it to Price. "We are doing great today, John. Here's the documents, Simon wouldn't let me hold them myself."

"Good lad." He says, nodding at the mancunian making you shake your head.

Unlike Ghost, Gaz actually asks you about the baby shower and if he can assist. Price doesn't say anything, but he is really glad he offered; having now a familiar face at the party.

And even though only Gaz assists in person, he brings a present. "From Ghost, Soap and I, hope the girly likes it. Whenever she uses it."

He says that because the gift is a bright pink toy car for the baby to drive around.

Price complains about the safety of it, but later at night when everyone is gone he sits on the sofa, looking at you drive the car yourself talking about how you always wanted one as a kid. And Price is not sure how he got this lucky in life.

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diremoone · 8 months

Text

“make me (yours).” | r. sukuna

w — [ minors do not interact ] modern! AU, hints of sugar daddy vibes ;), older man/younger woman, age gap, everyone is above 20+ and legal age, male masturbation, Sukuna imagining seggs positions and shit like that, Sukuna is around 36 & Reader is around 22/23, tbh sukuna being a comfort character rn. jjk after 235? it’s non-canon lmao

a/n: this is the most I’ve ever written that’s sinful I’m not used to this (it’s been so damn long since i have written anything remotely sinful omfg) and it’s not even that much I’m so embarrassed y’all HELP— also part two depends on you guys and any ideas you want to send in through my ask box :3

part one | part two

[ first divider by @/benkeibear, the second by @/cafekitsune ]

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who meets you through his younger brother, who’s a few years older than you. You’ve been in Japan for a few years now, that much he knows, attending the same school his little brother got into. And now he’s determined to find out everything about you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s so fucking glad you can speak Japanese. He knows English, yes, but he prefers it when you speak his native tongue, because he fucking loves your accent and gets off on it. It’s exotic — you’re exotic — and he can’t help the temptation of wanting you and more.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who knows to keep his smug smirk into himself when his little brother finally mans up and finally introduces you to him one day when he comes home to work on a project that you’re helping him with. And he knows that Yuuji knows about the look on his face. Because he knows his history with women. Yuuji knows he’s made a mistake introducing you to each other.

Or so he thinks.

Sukuna is thoroughly amused by you, although there are times where he becomes frustrated. You’re not an easy case to crack, and not easy to tease and rile up. Perhaps that’s the part of you that’s from accelerated maturity.

You’re smarter than the average person, even the people slightly above average. You’re intellectually and psychologically challenging and he very much likes it. It’s been a long time since he’s had the kind of stimulation you’ve brought him. Since his and Yuuji’s father passed away.

He watches from a distance as you and his brother go over notes and work and crack jokes that put a pretty smile on your face. He can’t hear your laughter from where he stands, but he’s positive it’s as lovely as your smile.

As for you, you know you’re being watched. You look to the tall man out of your peripheral vision and halt rolling your eyes.

“Your brother is never subtle, is he?”

Yuuji sighs heavily. “Never.”

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who hates the fact he can’t see you more often. So he digs and digs and then finds out about some old family debts and a couple things for medical expenses he can easily pay off to hold over your head, to use as a means to be something akin to a sugar daddy so he can order you around and see you whenever he wants to.

And it comes as no surprise to him when he mentions it the next time his brother brings you over for schoolwork that you’re startled by him finding out. He only mentions it after Yuuji has fallen asleep on the couch. You give him the wide-eyed expression of shock, probably wondering how he found out about it.

But unlike his expectations, you don’t ask how he knows. you don’t get embarrassed and try to hush it away with the option of using yourself as his favor. You shrug, going a little more into depth and detail about the financial struggle that’s been kept under wraps for several good years.

Sukuna himself is surprised in return, by both you and the way he sits down for you — to listen to you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who finds out that even though you see him as super attractive, you’re not as swayed by his flirting and all of his advances like many women and young women your age are. Yes, you know he’s super fucking stupidly hot, and yes you’ve more than likely thought about certain things while in bed under the sheets, but you’ve got more important things to prioritize than hot men. Which he applauds you for just as much as he despises it. It makes him frustrated, because he’s attracted to you and wants you in his bed so bad; because it should be so fucking easy like it has been with other women. But you’re not the same, and while his lust is as prominent as ever in his older age, he also has the desire for something more than just a fling.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who manages to get ahold of your schedule through his baby brother (who’s prepping for your broken heart) and asks you out, setting up a date for when he knows you’re free. He much enjoys the look on your face when he brings up the date he’s set, knowing you’re wondering about how he managed to nail the exact day you’re free for the day he’s set for the outing. He enjoys it even further when you quickly deduce how he knows about it.

Goddamn, he loves a sharp woman.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who orders you a dress to be made that’s a mix of beautiful deep crimson and black, one that shines but doesn’t shine too much to glare at people eyes. He drums his fingers against his desk in his home office as he sees the notification pop up on his phone that the item has been delivered.

But as usual, you surprise him. You don’t end up wearing the dress he’s made, but something completely different. You arrive to the restaurant he’s bought out for the night in a deep silver-gray tux, hair styled in a simple manner with minimal makeup that he knows you don’t need because he’s already seen and fallen for your natural looks anyway.

Sukuna hates you. He doesn’t, but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with the feelings he has. You’re so much younger than him, but holy fuck has it been so long since he’s been given any sort of challenge or stimuli, especially from a woman. He both hates and is glad you’re not easy. And it only fuels his drive to get you to give yourself to him.

You drive him up a damn wall.

He’s been in the shower for at least forty minutes, alternating between hot and cold every five minutes. Forty minutes and the painful hard on he’s had all morning still hasn’t gone away.

Sukuna leans his head forward against the wall and cusses at himself. His hand isn’t enough, but there’s some relief as he starts leisurely pumping his shaft. He cusses and swears worse than a sailor as he starts off slow, imagination running wild (at what could be).

He wants you so fucking bad. He wants you on your knees in front of him; on the soft carpet because no way is he going to let his pretty woman have sore knees while taking his monstrous dick down her throat.

He wants to bury his face between your legs and make you cum so much and so hard you see fucking galaxies, then let you catch your breath just barely enough before he uses your juices as lubricant and permanently molds your pussy to the shape of his fat cock.

He wants your legs over his shoulders as you throw your head back and moan as he fucks your better than anyone ever has and ever will. He wants to see a white ring around his cock as he pumps himself in and out of you like he’s a starved man. And that he is. For you, anyway.

Sukuna just knows your pussy is so fucking warm. He’ll bet his dick that you’ll have the tightest pussy he’s ever going to have. The best he’s ever going to have.

His hand pumps his shaft faster and faster, gripping it harder as he nears climax. His massive cock aches painfully, desperate to cum. Fucking hell… He wants you so bad, underneath him, or on your knees, calling him by whatever pet name or name from whatever kink you might have.

Forbid everything if you call him ‘Daddy’ or ‘Master’. Game fucking over.

He doesn’t even care if you have those kinds kinks or not. He just wants the pretty girl that’s done more than caught his attention under him as he makes her feel pleasure that only he can provide.

But the selfish part of him can’t help but hear you call out those names in his head. And that’s what does it.

Sukuna’s thighs and back muscles flex almost painfully as his balls draw up and cums. He tosses his head back, the feeling of his load spurting from the tip making him groan in pleasure. He cums so hard he feels like he’s about to keel over.

“Fuck yeah…” he pants, oxygen finally catching up to his lungs’ need.

But now he’s disappointed and just a little pissed off. Because the cum on the wall shouldn’t be there. It should be on or in you. And he doesn’t like that.

And as he rewashes himself, his jaw clenches, can’t help but thinking determinedly he’s going to change things between the two of you.

Come hell or high fucking water.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s finally shifted the relationship to being something else. Although you can’t tell what it is. The first date he takes you on is to break the ice, getting to know you better as a person. It’s also to see if you’d fuck him, but he knows you’ve got stronger convictions than the women he’s used to.

He takes you on a second date, this time in more casual clothes on a drive to a house he’s set up to have dinner and stargaze at.

He gets to tell you he’s paid off your family’s old debts now, relieved them of the medical bills and taxes that haven’t been paid yet. But it backfires, and now he’s left to make you understand that it wasn’t to make you feel beholden to him in any manner, like owing debt to the mafia.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna needs you to understand that despite how much he wants to fuck you, it’s more than just because he finds you attractive and wants to satisfy his dick. He wants you to know you’re not temporary; he doesn’t see you as a quick fix to his primal needs.

Not at all.

You’re the long term fix to his primal needs. And perhaps the only one he’s going to need ever again. And once the expression of understanding crosses your face, he goes to cradle the back of your head and hungrily slots his lips on yours. He may not get to take all your clothes off right now, but he’s happy with his results tonight.

Besides, he knows he’ll get you into his bed with a shiny diamond ring on your left hand eventually.

wheeeew im gonna go take a cold bath

@vagabond-umlaut here’s ur man babe pls enjoy.

& everyone pls feel free to send in more ideas for this series if you want im having fun with this lmao

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #modern au #modern! sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk drabble #sukuna drabble #sukuna headcanons #a lil bit of spice in this one 😉#🔞+ works

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awfcspencer · 4 months

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Pretty Heart || alexia putellas x reader

alexia putellas x reader

prompt: Alexia outside stone cold persona doesn’t match the Alexia you see.

warnings: none!

Alexia took her role as captain for Barcelona very seriously. It was an absolute honor to represent her team as the captain, dreaming about times like this when she was a young girl. Alexia worked her tail off in training and in matches to gain the respect of fans, her coaches, and her teammates. She was herself’s biggest supporter and critic.

At training, Alexia was stone cold, not in a mean way by any measure of the word, but in a way of expecting the best out of her teammates. She would offer tips and advice on how to better her teammates. She never said anything she wouldn’t do herself, often times staying after on the pitch to get a few more dribbling exercises in and shooting drills. She wanted to lead by example. She typically never goofed off or really laughed during training and this only added to her serious persona as captain. On the pitch, she was focused on a single goal, get better each day.

When Alexia brought you around her teammates for the first time to say that they were surprised would be an understatement. You were loud, always joking around, and had a smile locked on your face. The complete opposite of what they usually saw from Alexia. But unlike they thought, it was not a case of opposites attract.

At home, away from the pitch, Alexia was the sweetest girl you had ever met, and she had the prettiest and biggest heart. On her way home from training, she would pick you up flowers and your favorite chocolate so often that you were running out of vases to put them in. Alexia was also incredibly happy whenever she got home to you, hoping to shower and cuddle you the rest of the night. She really liked to leave football at the door when she arrived home, completely separating work life and love life. Just as the way your smile never left your face, Alexia always had a smile plastered on her face when she was around you. You lit up Alexia’s life, just as much as she lit up your life.

Alexia was also one of the funniest people ever, often telling her that if football doesn’t work out that she would make bank as a comedian. Alexia had a way of adding one-liners to your guys conversations that made you laugh until you had tears in your eyes and your abs hurt. The secret was that Alexia loved to make you laugh, your laugh warmed her heart and she could listen to your laugh all day every day. Simply just music to her ears.

For this particular Barcelona match, you were getting a small dinner after to celebrate and meet a few of her teammates a bit better. You understood slightly that Alexia was a little two sided, one side with you and one side with her teammates, but you unaware at the drastic difference.

At the table was you, Alexia, Lucy, Ona, Mapi, and Ingrid. It was a low key, in the wall sort of restaurant, hoping to have a quiet night and enjoy one another’s company. Conversations flowed effortlessly at the table.

“So, what is Alexia like at home? Does she boss you around like she does us?” Lucy asks you in a joking manner.

“What? Definitely not. If anything, I have to always get on her to remember to do her laundry or the dishes.” You tell the group. It is interesting to hear that Alexia is so different between with you and with her teammates.

“I can not imagine Alexia being captained around.” Mapi adds. Mapi was probably the next closest person to really know Alexia and she was still widely unaware of Alexia’s true soft nature. At this point in the conversation, Alexia has a deep red blush on her cheeks and while the other members of the dinner were unaware, she was clutching your hand as she played with the rings on your hand under the table. If anyone were to see Alexia now, they wouldn’t be able to even fathom that she was a serious captain who believed in a ‘work hard play hard’ mentality.

“I guess Alexia is just a two-sided mystery.” you joke out, now fully understanding the vast difference of character.

The dinner carried on as did the conversations. Whenever you made small comments or little stories about your Alexia, her teammates could now see the fun, joking, and sweet side of Alexia. She would crack jokes at the table and she slowly came out of her captaincy shell. The dinner was finished and you had a lovely time, giving everyone a quick hug before walking out with Alexia.

When you both returned home, you wanted to ask Alexia about it.

“Hey Ale, why do your teammates make it seem like you are some hard-nosed captain that has like a no fun zone sign on your head” you questioned to her.

“I am their captain baby, I want to be respected.” she answered as if it was completely simple.

While you understood the point she was trying to make, it did make you a little sad at the thought that they didn’t really know the true Alexia. The Alexia that cried at any dog movie where the dog dies. The Alexia that refused to go to bed until she got a proper kiss goodnight. The Alexia that had to be holding your hand or really just be in your space 24/7. The Alexia that whined like a baby when you would leave to go to work, complaining as the bed was too cold when you left her side. Your Alexia.

“I get it, I do. But maybe if you showed a little bit more of you, your pretty heart baby, then it could honestly help the team more. You know like showing even the captain is human.” you explained to her.

“Yeah maybe, but I am only agreeing because you’re too cute to make upset.” she stated as she moved you and her to the couch so you two can cuddle and continue your binge watch of Love Island.

This is where you knew Alexis was most relaxed and comfortable, beside you, in your shared private home. A small fuzzy blanket thrown over the two of you as her hands found yours. Giving her a small kiss on the temple before beginning the episode.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #woso #woso couples #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #womens soccer

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kcrossvine-art · 11 months

Text

G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to.

Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Ground nutmeg

Unsalted butter

Whole milk

2 eggs

Honey

Vanilla extract

The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.

AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves

Tastes like a honey graham cracker

But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread

Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good

If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking

Would pair well with milk green tea

Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)

Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.

.where honey called for, used clover honey

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

From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.

The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.

Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.

If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

270 grams all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick unsalted butter

160 grams milk

2 eggs

110 grams your favorite honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

Muffin tray and parchment paper

Method:

Preheat oven to 350f

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.

Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring. Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.

Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.

Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.

Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.

Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.

Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.

Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.

Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

#cross cooks lotr #tolkein #the hobbit #food recipe

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headkiss · 1 year

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not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

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