#god forbid he gets asked a question about how you look while being interviewed

[the-phantom-author]

https://youtu.be/mHZJpJ2aQkI?si=xkeyBXHQmTXSAq2F 1:20-1:40 popstar!gf Hasan caught in 4k 🤭📸

The way I watched this earlier and had the same thought. Anytime someone in chat tries to show him a thirst trap of you his only response "Straight diva shit, so nice with it. She's serving, she's slaying. She's the slay queen. Serving mama, slaying mama"

[corvusphilia]

★ HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY HAVE A CRUSH (KARASUNO EDITION)

୨ৎ featuring: daichi sawamura, koshi sugawara, asahi azumane, yuu nishinoya, ryunosuke tanaka, tobio kageyama, shoyo hinata, kei tsukishima, tadashi yamaguchi, keishin ukai

୨ৎ notes: first post!! rq are open guys send shit IN (omg haikyuu blog in 2024!!???). also yes i plan on writing crush headcanons for the other teams as well :>

also worth mentioning this is NOT timeskip and reader is implied to be around the same age as the characters (so highschool for most and adult for ukai)

i was gonna write for the girls as well but ive been writing this for the past 4 days and im tired 😭

★ DAICHI SAWAMURA ?!

He genuinely thinks acting like he's your dad or something is a good way of flirting. Sugawara teases him about it constantly. "Do you want to ask them out on a date or to sign adoption papers?"

And I don't mean it only in the cute way. He will scold you if you forget your jacket or something. But the words quickly catch in his throat when he gives you his and you put it on for the first time. Maybe you should keep forgetting yours, actually. For no reason. No reason at all.

Will bring extra food in case you're still hungry by the end of recess. Even makes mental notes about your favorites. This guy is a GENTLEMAN.

While he does reprimand you, it's nothing like he does to his team or his friends. In fact, he seems to calm down whenever you come into the picture. Nishinoya and Tanaka absolutely take advantage of it.

Suga might be the vice-captain, but the team treats you like the second in command. Doesn't matter if you're not part of the team or even a manager. You're now the second parent by correlation.

Speaking of which, Sugawara and Asahi absolutely play wingmen. Suga will come off a bit too strongly, talking about how Daichi is such a catch and you two would make such a cute couple, while Asahi sounds like he's doing a job interview in Daichi's name, listing all his positive qualities and whatnot. Their hearts are in the right place, at least.

He doesn't hesitate much before asking you out. He doesn't want to risk ruining your friendship, but he doesn't want to live with the regret of what could have been if he gave it a shot, either.

The sun was lazily setting in the horizon, painting the sky pleasant hues of orange and pink. It wasn't unusual for Daichi to walk you home — he insisted on it whenever he had the time, even he meant he would only get to his house past nightfall —, but he was weidly quiet. He smiled calmly when you questioned him on it, giving you a look and a sigh.

He came to a stop, standing in front of you. He took a deep breath before reaching into his bag, grabbing what looked like a note and holding it in both hands before stretching it towards you and bowing politely. His grasp was slightly shaky.

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while..." He started, his voice soft, keeping his gaze on the ground. Maybe he was just being overly polite, or maybe he was a bit too scared to look you in the eyes. "You make me... incredibly happy, Y/N. I would like to do the same for you. If you'll let me, that is." He finally glanced up, looking at you through his eyelashes and his posture still low, his eyes filled equally with nervousness and hope. "I don't want to leave any doubts, so... I'll just go ahead and say it. Will you be mine?"

★ KOSHI SUGAWARA ?!

This guy is so whipped, it's not even funny. He doesn't even officially ask you out because he makes it so obvious he likes you. Like, c'mon, EVERYONE can tell he wants to marry you already.

The type to run up to you just to give you something he grabbed or bought because it made him think of you. Which happens very often, because he thinks of you all the time.

Very affectionate. Holds your hand whenever you two walk somewhere and hugs you as a greeting and as goodbye. Might even slip in a kiss on your cheek if he's feeling a little silly.

And god forbid some poor bastard mentions your name in a five mile radius of him. This motherfucker will take any chance he can get to yap about how amazing you are and how much he adores you and—

SO supportive. Genuinely, he thinks you're so talented in everything you do. If you have a specific thing you're passionate about, be ready for him to be bragging to everybody about it. More proud of your accomplishments than his own.

Straight up introduces you to people as his significant other after some time. What? He never asked to be your boyfriend? Well, it's not like you were gonna say no anyway, so...

"Y/N!" The cold winter air causes little wisps of smoke to form from his mouth as he runs over to you through the courtyard, an infectious smile on his face. He stops right in front of you, resting his hands on his knees for just a few seconds to catch his breath before holding out a bouquet in your direction. Roses, baby's breath, and cornflowers.

His smile grows even more when you grab it, a snicker escaping him at the slightly flushed look on your face. "So pretty, right? I saw it and thought of you, so obviously I had to get it." He explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Don't look at the price tag, I forgot to take it off." He adds.

He waves a hand dismissively at your 'thank you'. "Don't mention it. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't get you something nice every now and then?" He mentions casually, and lets out a thoughtful hum when you mention that you two are, in fact, not officially dating.

"I guess I did never outright say it, huh? That's my mistake." For some reason, he doesn't sound bothered or reluctant at all. Instead, he grabs your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Well, no reason to waste even more time. Come on, let me take you on our first official date."

★ ASAHI AZUMANE ?!

He doesn't flirt, let's get that out of the way. His idea of hitting on you is looking at you from a distance while praying you have more balls than him and will take initiative.

If you don't really know each other much, he's scared you'll be put off by his appearance and size. If you do, he's scared you think he's too much of a coward and have no interest.

His insecurities play a huge role in his reluctance. He thinks you're so pretty, and smart, and talented, and he's... well, himself. It's almost difficult to tell if he likes you or not, because while he is polite whenever you interact, he acts that way with everyone (who takes the time to actually speak with him, that is), and he actually seems to avoid you whenever possible, too.

Gets desperate enough he asks everyone in the team for advice. Daichi just says to "Be yourself", to which Suga gives him a side eye with a "Yeah, I don't think that'll work" comment, and the two start arguing rather than actually helping the poor guy out.

Nishinoya and Tanaka are... less than helpful, as you might imagine. Kageyama and Hinata don't know the first thing about dating, and he wasn't about to ask Tsukishima, either. Surprisingly (or not), the good advice came from Yagamuchi and Kiyoko.

It basically summed up to the fact that he needs to make his move before someone else does. Nothing too dramatic, but enough to let you know he's serious about it. At the end of the day, they had a 5 steps plan written out.

He had everything set to go, even went as far as to memorize a script he practiced in front of the mirror a few times this morning. However, when he finally stood in front of you, the sun of the afternoon hitting your features just right, his mind went blank.

"Huh..." He was slightly hunched over, absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He quickly cleared his throat, seemingly remembering he couldn't just stand there looking at you like a creep, and reached inside his bag to pull out a small, heart-shaped chocolate box. He took a deep, shaky breath.

"I-I, huh... I need to tell you something..." He starts nervously, his brown eyes finally meeting yours, filled with fear and sincerity. "I... I've liked you for a while now, and..." That is not the script he planned out. "You're always on my mind. W-when I'm with you, everything just feels right. I don't really know how to say this, I'm probably making a fool out of myself, but... I like you. A lot."

★ YUU NISHINOYA ?!

This fucking guy has no shame whatsoever. Quite literally asked you to go out with him before he even told you his name. I firmly believe he's a love-at-first-sight kind of dude.

Now, how things progress depends highly on your reaction. If you're a bit shy, he thinks it's the cutest thing ever, but he will take it down a notch to not make you uncomfortable. Will still flirt, don't get me wrong, but a bit more lowkey. If you just accept or — god forbid — flirt back, he shortcuts. A hot person?? Likes HIM??? WHAT.

Like, all of his previous bravado is out the window if you accept. He flirts with a few people, sure, but he never actually expects to go anywhere. It's just kind of a fact that he's going to get turned down. So when things actually go right he doesn't know what to do anymore.

It doesn't last too long, though. After he takes a few minutes for his mind to process what just happened, he's bouncing off the walls.

SO protective. We've seen it with Kiyoko. Anytime a guy looks at you for just a little too long he's growling and foaming at the mouth. Better keep him from biting anyone's ankles.

"Wow, you're SUPER pretty!" The boy stated enthusiastically, stars in his eyes as he stares at you intently, seemingly trying to commit every detail to memory. You've seen him around, usually near the gym, but it looks like this is the first time he has seen you.

He takes a step closer, determination written all over his face. "Will you go out with me?" He asks a bit loudly and suddenly. When your face flushes, he takes a small step back, chuckling. "Ah— I'm Yuu Nishinoya, by the way! Probably should've said that first."

He nods happily when you introduce yourself as well, his eagerness returning to the surface. "Well, you didn't really answer me, so I'll ask again — wanna go out with me?" He repeats, half cocky half sheepish. However, his entire face falls when you give a positive response.

His eyes are wide and he just stares at you, mouth slightly agape. When you question if he's feeling well, his ears flush red as he seems to have find his voice again. "A-ARE YOU SERIOUS!? You said yes!? Wha— am I dreaming? I'm dreaming, aren't I!?" Despite the disbelief in his voice, he's smiling — a huge, excited, thankful smile. He's not leaving your side anytime soon.

★ RYUNOSUKE TANAKA ?!

Since I already covered love at first sight with Noya and we've already seen how he's like with Kiyoko, I'm going down a different route: friends to lovers. Also because this specific trope with him makes me SICK /pos.

He's a friendly guy when you get to know him and past his badboy persona, so he has many friends I feel like. He initially treats you like he does the others, being his usual weird ass self we all know and love.

But one time he sees you laugh at one of his shenanigans and he just pauses. Oh. Oh. This is not good.

Have you always been so pretty? I mean, he already knew you were, but this is another level. Now you're like, angelic. Ethereal, even. What just happened.

Immediately runs to Noya because he doesn't know what to do or even think. He just sees you as a friend, right? A close friend. A hot, funny, amazing, kissable friend. Yeah, that doesn't sound right even to him when he says it outloud.

Doesn't take long for him to come to terms with it honestly and the entire team has to hold him back from proposing to you the next time he sees you.

He waits by the classroom's door, an uncharacteristically nervous look in his eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath when the bell rings and you stand from your desk, slinging your bag over your shoulder while making your way to the exit. "Y/N." He calls out to gain your attention, and his face immediately flushes when you look at him.

Your eyes are so beautiful it's unfair. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Will you ma—" He pauses, looking at something right behind you. You look back to see Nishinoya half-hiding behind a wall, shaking his head 'No' quickly. Tanaka clears his throat and you look back at him. "... I-I mean, will you... Go out with me? Maybe? Please?"

He sounds almost pleading and a little unsure. He stutters an explanation when he notices your taken aback expression. "I know this came outta nowhere and I know we're like, best buds or whatever, but... God, I really wanna kiss you." His face goes bright red when he realizes what he just said and he starts rambling another flustered excuse. How cute.

★ TOBIO KAGEYAMA ?!

A little like Asahi, he just kind of stares at you from a distance and hope you get the hint. Totally unware of the fact he has a major resting bitch face and is looking at you so aggressively it looks like he's thinking about beating your ass after school or something.

Completely oblivious to the fact he likes you. He's never liked anyone before. His entire life has always been volleyball this and volleyball that — he doesn't know the first thing about crushes.

Surprisingly thoughtful, though. The type to get you your favorite drink from the vending machine when he goes to grab his milk box. He doesn't even think much about it, it's just so natural to him.

Also very perceptive. He comes off as an airhead most of the time, but when it comes to volleyball, he's incredibly observant. Now he's the same way with you as well. Always knows what you're feeling before you have to say anything or if you need something.

And that's how everyone else realizes he likes you and tell him about it (because again, he genuinely could not tell that his feelings are romantic on his own. How can someone be so smart and so dumb at the same time).

He's in denial for a good while, but the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Some teammates try to give him advice (because they don't trust him at all to do this by himself), but in the end he ignores all of it and just says what feels right at the time.

"I swear, you'd be helpless without me." He grumbles, dragging you away from the confrontation, his hand firmly but not tightly wrapped around your wrist. Karasuno had a game against another school, and one of the guys from said school apparently thought you were really cute. So much so he was trying everything to get your contact information before Tobio stepped in.

Just thinking about the situation pisses him off. He scoffs, squeezing your wrist slightly, but there's something more than just frustration on his face. Doubt, perhaps? He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "You weren't really thinking about giving him your number, were you?" He asks, his voice almost too soft before it rises in tone again.

"I mean, he's average looking at best, and a shit player, and... And I'm better!" He blurted, cheeks flushing slightly. He averts his gaze, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "So... Just give me your number, dumbass."

★ SHOYO HINATA ?!

I need to mention, he looks like he's so easy to fall in love with. Like he's so kind and considerate and with a high emotional intelligence. Very much boyfriend material I wish more people would see him like that instead of an uwu baby yk.

Anyway, back on track. I feel like he'd fluctuate between shy and bold a lot. Like, if you flirt or give hints that you might like him back, he's blushing and kicking his feet and shit, but it is very much not uncommon for him to take initiative.

Especially after matches. The adrenaline is still pumping in his veins and he barely even registers that maybe he's being a bit forward.

If you don't know him really well it's a bit difficult to tell that he has feelings because he's just. so nice. to everyone. But if you do, it's hard to miss the tenderness in his eyes everytime he looks at you.

Insists you come to his games. It's simple math in his head: the two things he loves the most (aside from, yknow, his mom and sister and all that) are volleyball and you, so if he can just mix them together, he'll be the happiest guy in the planet.

It was a tough game — Karasuno barely managed to win right during the last set. The winning point was, of course, scored by Shoyo. The crowd was cheering, his teammates screaming loudly and gathering around him, but in the middle of the ruckus, his eyes are fixated on a single someone.

He dodged Nishinoya and Tanaka and, to the team's confusion, ran towards the stands. It wasn't until everyone say you simultaneously running in his direction that they understood what was going on. Shoyo practically pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly and doing his best to lift you and give you a little spin, almost knocking both of you to the ground in his attempt.

His smile was bright enough to outshine the sun. He pulled away just a little so he could look you in the eyes, the two of you still intertwined. "Thank you so much for being here!" He exclaimed, like his success was solely due to you — to your presence. The look in his eyes was a little different as he leaned in slightly before hesitating. Daichi called him over so they could formally bid farewell to the other team, and he gave you a final squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. "Wait for me, okay? I'll walk you home today!"

★ KEI TSUKISHIMA ?!

This fucking guy is so in denial. No, I'm serious, he'd rather eat glass than admit that he likes somebody. He's always seen relationships and especially crushes as a waste of time and energy, things he couldn't be bothered to spare.

So he's extra mean when he realizes he likes you. Is it an attempt to push you away? Kind of. Is it because he genuinely kind of hates you for the way you make him feel? A little. Is it because he's secretly an awkward motherfucker that doesn't know a thing about how to be romantic? Mostly.

News flash: it doesn't work, independently of your reaction. If you just ignore him and don't give him a reaction, he's frustrated but grows to respect you even more for dealing with his sassy ass with that much grace. If you get sad, he feels genuinely bad for the first time in his life. If you get angry, turns out you look really damn cute when pissed off and that's not helping his case either. If you sass him back, he might just get on one knee.

So he just... gives up. He still teases and pokes fun at you, obviously, but now it doesn't sound as mean. If anything, it's friendly banter. He can't deny that he enjoys having you around.

It raised some eyebrows when Tsukishima told everyone he was leaving practice early because he was helping you study. Hinata and Kageyama had to practically get on their knees and beg him to tutor them, and even then, he always looked so annoyed doing it. With you, he almost had a little smile on his face. Almost.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times. "Hey, idiot, pay attention." He scolded, pointing back to the open book in front of you. "I'm not explaining it a second time." He added, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He can't help the small grin that forms on his face when you whine about his 'mean' treatment. "You haven't seen me being mean yet, pipsqueak." He teased, looking down at you through his glasses. He exhales through his nose in an almost-laugh, his voice dropping just barely over a whisper, a tenderness in his tone you're not really familiar with. "You're lucky I kinda like you."

★ TADASHI YAMAGUCHI ?!

Dude is SO flustered around you, like, constantly. Like can-barely-get-a-sentence-out typa shit. Kei has to verbally smack him and tell him to fucking get it together — he's not gonna win you over by being a wuss (or maybe he will, who knows what you're into).

But that's mostly during the honeymoon stage. After the butterflies in his stomach start to go away, they're replaced by a deep sense of comfort whenever he's around you.

Takeda said that Tadashi would have the least trouble out of everyone when it came to dating and he was RIGHT. This guy is such a sweetie. Always saving you a seat and sharing his lunch with you and just watching out for you in general. He's so considerate :(

You make him not so insecure anymore and that's all he could have asked for. Whenever he messes up or just acts like a dork, he feels his heart drop thinking that he messes up any chance he might have had with you, but when you just smile and reassure him he falls in love all over again.

Tadashi has been profusely apologizing to you for the past fifteen minutes now, no matter how many times you tried to insist that it's fine. He was practicing his serves and you were unfortunate enough to get a ball right to the back of the head, and he rushed you to the nurse's office immediately despite you saying it didn't hurt that much.

"I'm so sorry, I promise it was an accident!" He said for what must have been the third time. There wasn't much that the nurse could do aside from giving you headache medicine and telling you to lie down for a while, and he decided to miss practice so he could stay with you while you rested.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned, his eyes soft and full of worry, and his shoulders tensed a little at your answer of 'kinda'. He grabbed your hand, idly playing with your fingers, either to calm you or himself down. "... I want to make it up to you somehow." He stated gently, not daring to look at you. "... I'll walk you home and buy you a snack from the convenience store, okay? You can ask for whatever you want, no matter the price." He paused, then added with a sheepish smile, "Well... Maybe the price matters a little bit."

★ KEISHIN UKAI ?!

Listen. He definitely looks like he has rizz. Does he actually? No. Absolutely not. Like, he has so much negative rizz it does a full spin and actually works out. Absolute man failure.

Deadass the kind to do that yawn and arm around your shoulder thing and think he's nailing it. Like, dude you're not THAT old, c'mon now.

Fluctuates between being a gentleman and just being a scrub a lot. Will open the car door and pull a chair for you only to light up a cigarette and not notice the smoke is going straight in your direction until you start coughing.

He does try, though. Definitely makes an effort to take you on a nice date whenever his money allows it (and sometimes when it doesn't). He's had flings before, sure, but you're special and he doesn't want to mess it up like he always does.

You barely heard the doorbell ringing with the sound of the rain hitting your roof. When you opened it, Keishin stood there, absolutely drenched in a dress shirt and an undone tie around his neck, water dripping down from his hair to his face as he holds out a bouquet in your direction. He sighs deeply.

"I wanted to surprise you, but my car broke down halfway here and then this fuckin' rain hit." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck. You told him to come inside and grabbed him a towel, and he started to dry his hair before sitting on the couch when he was sure he wasn't dripping water all over the place anymore.

He glanced at you, a somewhat guilty look on his face. "... Sorry I messed it up. I wanted to do something nice for once, but..." He trailed off. You sat next to him, a hand on his shoulder as you reassured him it was okay. When you suggested watching a movie since he was already here anyway, he perked up, almost like an invisible tail started wagging behind him. "Really?" He questioned, a bit baffled before trying to hold back a smile as he relaxed next to you, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "... That doesn't sound half bad, doll face."

© ─ corvusphilia ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

thanks for reading!

[cosmiccrushes]

Mints & Movie Stars

Sanji X OC || 2.9k words

Summary: Movie star Vinsmoke Sanji and his personal assistant, Peridot "Peri" Winters, head out to a known pirate island to film his next big movie. Will Sanji be able to keep his feelings for Peri hidden? Just how many mints can one man ask for before it gets suspicious?

notes: I am very much thinking about all my favorite kdrama tropes and business romances while writing this. Just light, angsty fun :)

Also on AO3!

CH 1

Peri stares across the table at the woman interviewing her boss, her blood roaring in her ears. Sure that, this time, she'd misheard this same asinine question she's been hounded by ever since she took this job position.

Who would've known that being the personal assistant to one Vinsmoke Sanji, movie star, would immediately relegate her to an existence where questions like “Tell me Sanji, has your new assistant made any romantic gestures towards you?” and “Sanji, have you been able to set boundaries with your new assistant?” were the only acknowledgement she warranted. And the questions weren't even directed at her! She'd be hovering right there in the background, standing just behind Sanji as he faced down a line of reporters. And no one had asked her once if she was busy swooning over Vinsmoke Sanji instead of doing her job, it was just assumed she was. Peri wouldn’t even be within eyesight of reporters if she had any say over how she did her work. But Sanji insisted upon her constant presence wherever he went. Gods forbid she not be nearby to address his every request. So, the reporters spotted her and directed their salacious questions to Sanji, looking for juicy gossip that didn’t exist. 

Because she was not, by the way, swooning over him. As far as she was concerned, Vinsmoke Sanji could keep his dashing good looks and debonair charm all to himself. It was enough that her job meant she had to deal with his persnicketiness, his constant demands on her time, his chaotic schedule. She had no room to add a crush on him to her already extensive list of responsibilities. 

Peri never even would've taken this job- despite the fact she was a damn good personal assistant- if her last job hadn't imploded and if her friend, Tak, hadn't gotten her the referral. 

***

“Come on, it's perfect!” Tak pleads with her. “You'll move up the career ladder from pigheaded, rude as hell businessman to movie star.” Tak fans her hands through the air theatrically as she says this. “And we'll get to work together all the time! Perfect!”

“I don't know, Tak,” Peri groans, face shoved into a pillow on her bed. “There's no way I'm getting a reference from that bastard. How am I gonna get past a background check to work for a celebrity?” Peri groaned into her pillow again, for emphasis. 

“Don't worry about that, Peri. I'm the only one Sanji will let touch his hair and Rachel loves me. I'll talk to her about your situation- generally, no details, so stop glaring at me- she'll give you a chance, I promise.” 

Peri held onto her glare for a few seconds longer, before dropping her head back to the pillow, smushing her cheek against the plush material. She knew Tak was right and she needed to capitalize on the immense benefits of having a best friend who was the sole hair stylist for the premier celebrity of the East Blue. Peri had even met Sanji's agent, Rachel a handful of times through Tak towing her along to posh social gatherings. Though she hadn’t done more than see Sanji from afar across a crowded room of VIPs. 

“What would I do without you, Tak?” 

Her best friend shivers, wiggling her shoulders and holding her palm up. “Please, Peridot, don't make me think about it. Your life without me is too bleak to contemplate.” Tak winks at her and Peri laughs. 

Maybe things would be okay.

***

Wrong. Things were not okay. Those were the catalyst (catastrophic?) events that led her to sitting across from an eager-eyed reporter, staring at Sanji hungrily as she asked, “Sanji, the readers are dying to know. Your assistant is always close at hand these days-” a suggestive eyebrow raise, “Is she a fan of yours?” 

Peri is sitting right here. At the same table! Because she's an outstanding professional, she resists rolling her eyes (and throwing her coffee at the woman, though her fingers twitch against the mug menacingly).     

Sanji smiles good-naturedly at the reporter. “Ah my assistant is with me today because-” Peri tenses as Sanji drapes his arm around the back of her chair though he doesn't touch her, leaning in towards the reporter as he takes on a conspiratorial tone. “We're waiting for some important news today. I didn't want Peri too far away when it came.” 

This piques the reporter's interest. “Oh? This wouldn't have anything to do with rumors about a new Smith Stiegal film in the works, now would it?” Peri didn't miss the way the reporter eyed Sanji's hand lolling near her shoulder. Her eyes hawkish, like she didn’t want to miss a suggestive brush of Sanji’s fingers against Peri’s shoulder. There wouldn’t be one. 

“Now Miss Asher, I couldn't possibly say could I, darling?” Sanji smiles smoothly at the reporter, withdrawing his arm and any acknowledgement that Peri is at this table drops away. 

Miss Asher attempts to get Sanji to dish out a few morsels regarding the rumored newest action adventure film in the works from renowned director Smith Stiegal (which Sanji obviously cannot confirm or deny). All the hard work she put in to make these interviews even happen, brushed off and replaced with greedy hopes that some lucky reporter would catch her blushing at the movie star. Peri stews, recounting the earlier conversation that landed her at this table- being treated as if she's a fan waiting for her turn to take a picture with Sanji instead of the person responsible for him even being at this interview. 

***

“My darling periwinkle,” (not her name) “I need you at that table with me today! Please, love, understand! The call about the role could come from Rachel at any moment. I want to be right there when you get it.” Sanji's pleading smile was irritatingly puppy-dog-like (and very annoying, not at all adorable). 

“Sanji,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't know. This interview is with East Q magazine. They're a big deal. I'm not sure it's appropriate for your assistant to be at the table. I'll be nearby. You'll be the first person to know if Rachel calls.” 

Sanji pouts. “Come on, Pear-” (also not her name, but Sanji had taken to calling her that and occasionally producing an actual pear to gift her with, which she braced for now and, oh wait-) Sanji produces a single pear-green rose from behind his back. “Please stay with me? This is a big moment for me, Pear. I need-” He broke off abruptly, looking down at the rose extended in his hand, then back up into her eyes. “I need my assistant at my side. I'm afraid I can't budge on this, Peri.” (that was her name, and an indicator that Sanji has slipped into serious, boss mode). 

Peri sighs, taking the proffered rose out of Sanji's hand and lifting it to her nose, letting the delicate floral scent soothe her. “Okay, Sanji. I'll be there.”

Sanji's answering smile is gorgeous, just like everything else about him. A large part of her hated letting Sanji get his way, which was rather bothersome when her entire job mostly centered around making sure things went exactly Sanji's way. 

***

Sanji's previous assistant- an older gentleman named Harold- had decided to take an early retirement. Or, had he been forced into it rather than suffer through one more pandering socialite conversation, Peri thought darkly as the interviewer continued to lavish praise on Sanji. Peri mostly tuned them out. They’d talk about her like she wasn’t there anyway, she might as well pretend not to be. 

A half hour after the interview with East Q wrapped, the call from Rachel finally came. Sanji and Peri were still seated in the private room at the cafe where Miss Asher conducted her interview, the remnants of lunch spread on the table before them. 

At the first ring of Peri’s phone, Sanji drops his fork, bouncing out of his seat. “Bloody hell, Pear. What if they didn't pick me for the role!? What if this is the beginning of the end of my entire career!?” He runs both hands through his hair, mussing it to match his distress. 

“Sanji, calm down, you're going to get the role,” Peri says, rising from her seat as she presses accept on the call. She was very confident she was right. Everyone wanted a piece of Sanji right now. She had to admit (begrudgingly) that he was an excellent actor. Electric on screen. Smith Stiegal would be wild not to capitalize on Sanji's talent and popularity. 

“Rachel, hi!”

“Peri, is Sanji with you? Are you alone?” 

Peri resists another eye roll. Of course Sanji is with her- Sanji's always with her these days. “Yes, Rachel, I'll put you on speaker. We’re alone.” 

“Great! Sanji?”

Sanji rakes an anxious hand through his hair again. “Rachel, yes, what did they say?” 

“You've got the part, Sanji!” 

Sanji blew out a relieved breath and even Peri couldn't help the grin that broke across her face. Sanji stares at the phone in Peri's hand held between them, speechless as Rachel gushes about how excited they are to work with Sanji. Then, before Peri can compute what's happening, Sanji's arms are around her, gripping her waist tight, lifting her off her feet as he spins them in a circle. 

“We did it, Peri!”

A laugh sneaks out of her before she can stop it. But Sanji's joy is infectious and soon she’s giggling.  

“A Smith Stiegal movie, Pear! I can't believe it! This is huge!” He finally stops spinning them, setting her down on wobbly feet. His arms loose around her waist, her arms (phone still in hand) dangling around his shoulders. 

She feels a little breathless as she says, “I told you that you'd get the part. Congratulations, Sanji.” 

Sanji coughs, taking a step back, his arms falling away from her. “Thank you, Peri.” His smile is sheepish. 

“Hello? Hello? Peri? Sanji? Are you listening to me? What’s going on?” 

Peri remembers the phone clutched in her hand. “Rachel! So sorry, what was that?” 

“I need you and Sanji down at the office asap. The lawyers are on the way to review the contract and the schedule for shooting.” 

“Of course. We'll be there right away.” Peri ends the call, looking up to a smiling Sanji, his cheeks tinged with pink. 

***

Peri is left to her own devices (literally as she types away, responding to scheduling requests for interviews, photoshoots, etc. for Sanji) while the contract negotiations take place. Her mind wanders back to Sanji's surprise hug. 

As aggravated as Peri gets with Sanji's demands on her time and requests for particulars, he's never inappropriate with her. Or, rather, not inappropriate in a way that made her want to break his nose and shatter her employability in the entirety of the East Blue. Sanji was charming, he was flirty. She was used to this. He generally directed it towards her at a lower wattage than he dialed it up for his fans and professional contacts. Sinfully suave and wickedly beautiful- that's just the way Sanji came.

But during her stint as his assistant, he had always been respectful of her. Sure, there were the nicknames and the occasional gifted fruit (and that single rose today), but Sanji never made her feel uncomfortable or worried for her safety with him. And the nicknames just felt so…Sanji. Integral to who he was. He’d slipped into using them with her slowly and so naturally that she’s actually not sure how long it took her to notice it. It’s hypocritical, she knows, to not be offended by it because it’s Sanji. When she would be offended if it were someone else. She’s decided not to investigate this too deep though- it just doesn’t fit in her packed calendar. -=a3NB           A

He had never hugged her before. His anxiety and relief today had been so genuine, so human. And of course, Peri knew he was a person too. Albeit an obscenely famous person, but still, human, like her. It was just that, today, it almost felt like they were friends. If hadn't felt like her boss crossing an inappropriate physical boundary with her. It felt like a friend receiving life changing news and celebrating that with her. Peri didn't know what to do with that bizarre realization. 

“Peri, we need you in here!” Rachel pokes her head out of her office, waving Peri inside as the team of lawyers file out. 

“What's up?” Peri asks, settling into the chair beside Sanji.

“Pear, love, do you have any of those mints I like?” 

Peri rummages around in her tote bag for the mints in question (the only brand, Sanji insists, whose minty flavor isn't disgustingly artificial). She drops one into his open palm, her attention on Rachel.

“So here's the deal, Peri darling, the schedule for the movie is full steam ahead. They want to begin table reads on location in two weeks. So-” 

Peri interrupts, picking up on a couple keywords. “On location? They want us where in two weeks, exactly?” Narrowing her eyes at Rachel’s clearly placating tone. 

“Well, you see darling, Stiegal wants a very authentic feel for the movie, so it's not going to be filmed here in Vennport. Stiegal’s crew is already all set up on Crow Island, so you'll just need to get Sanji’s affairs in order and head on over.” 

This was theoretically fine. Movies filmed at a location outside of Vennport is common enough, though Peri hadn't yet traveled outside of the city with Sanji for any filming. What really made her aware that Rachel was asking for something challenging was the way she clacked away on her keyboard and took on an air of nonchalance as she delivered this information. Rachel was not nonchalant. She was direct, sharp, no nonsense but in a decidedly theatrical way. 

“Is this fourteen business days Rachel or…?” 

Rachel huffs. “Next Friday. They need Sanji there by next Friday.” 

“Okay, that's ten literal days from now.” 

“Yes, dear. So you'd better get to planning, chop chop.” 

“Rachel. That's like a five day trip at sea to get to Crow Island! Also, isn't that a known pirate port?”

“The movie is about pirates, Peri. Hence the authenticity.” 

Peri was authentically losing her faith in Smith Stiegal's organization and planning skills. Seems like they could’ve given Sanji and the agency a bit more time to prepare for a trip. But this was the industry, demands moved fast and she was expected to keep up. 

“So, to summarize, I need to plan and prepare for a months long trip that we need to leave for in five days?” 

“I knew you'd understand, you're a peach.” 

“Pear,” Sanji muttered. At first she thought he was requesting her attention, but when he didn't look at her or go on, she realized he was simply correcting Rachel's fruit name of choice. Peri shakes her head, bemused. 

There was really nothing for it. Peri would start with plans immediately. She was already running through her mental rolodex of travel companies the agency worked with. 

“Oh and Peri, don't worry about the security detail. The production company has a whole team over there and the agency will of course send a few personal bodyguards along to look after Sanji. Just connect with Sal and he'll make sure you're set.” Rachel waved her hand in a dismissal. 

Peri hadn't been worried about security. Everywhere Sanji went, agency-provided security guards came along. It was protocol. Necessary for Sanji's safety. Peri wasn't afraid of pirates- at least not in theory. But the way Rachel casually mentioned the production company's security detail made her wonder if she ought to be. Crow Island was well known in this part of the East Blue for it's breathtaking vistas (not that Peri had ever been) and it's rowdy pub scene (rumored to service many a pirate partaking in leisure activities). Honestly, most of the stories about Crow Island she'd heard involved debauchery, not dodgy pirates. Then again, maybe Rachel was just worried about Sanji getting into a different kind of scandal. The press will certainly look for anything to sensationalize (for example, a P.A. doing her job). 

She turns to Sanji. “Can you get home on your own today? I'll call the car for you. But I need to speak with Sal and start booking accommodations.”

Sanji stood to follow her. “It's okay, Pear, I'll wait for you.”

High seas forbid, Sanji find himself without her and in need of a mint. Leading the way out of Rachel's office, Peri allowed herself an eye roll Sanji couldn't see. Once the door closed behind them, Peri turned. 

“Sanji, honestly, it's going to be hours. I've got so much to get done and you've got the rest of your afternoon free, for once. Go enjoy it! Rest.” Peri claps her hands together. “Oh! Pack! That would be helpful. You can get started on the basics.” 

“When are you going to pack?” Sanji asks. Peri shrugs dismissively, already moving down the hall to find Sal.

Sanji jogs to catch up, surprising her for the second time that day with a hand at her elbow, stopping her. 

“I'll go home.” Sanji pauses. Long, slim fingers still wrapped around her arm. “Ask Sal to send Elle and Robbie with us. They're both excellent at their job.” With that, Sanji releases her arm. “See you tomorrow, Peri.” And walks away, leaving Peri's skin tingling where his hand had been.

[pseudowho]

HAITTTTCHHHH….

I need to talk to you about something!!

First things first HIII

So, today was my brother’s high school’s annual event (which he was hosting, so proud of him) it’s his last event and he will graduate in 4 months. I skipped an interview because he’s more important tbh, and I got my hair professionally done and got dressed up was so happy in general.

The event went great too, butttt

Just when the day started (this was before the event) I got out of the salon and got an uber, and istg it was the creepiest and the most uncomfortable moment of my life.

The cab driver from the moment I got in, kept asking intrusive questions like, how old are you, and kept staring at me through the rear view mirror (which I ignored as much as I could).

And the worst part is I know the damn reason why this happened. See, I am tiny yet voluptuous. So according to the social “standards” of my country, I should wear something that doesn’t hug my figure. All my life I’ve worn baggy clothes, mostly shirts because tshirts always accentuate my curves.

Not forced to wear them, but I subconsciously dressed like that, because I don’t wanna get all the unwanted attention. It saddens me because I’ve never gotten the chance to dress how I actually want to (I love the blouse and pants combination or pantsuits, would kill to wear a turtleneck🥲)

And today when I said “fuck it” and wore something that has been holed up in my closet for ages, this happened. (This is what I wore 👇)

It’s like I’m not allowed to have a personal style. And if I’m getting any attention, it always boils down to statements like- “you should’ve dressed modestly, because why would you wear something like “that” if you’re not asking for attention”

While I naturally veer towards comfy clothes, and sneakers, I do have days when I wanna explore my style and dress up. But god forbid I do that, because l’ll distract the male population in my vicinity.

Sorry for the rant…I’m just too sensitive today🥺

Love as always.

And I hope your upcoming weekend is relaxing and wonderful❤️

Heeeey!

So first of all:

It is not your fault that you are being hypersexualised simply because you are curvy. It is not your fault that you are victim-blamed and told you have brought it upon yourself. You have the fundamental human right to walk out of the house butt-naked if you choose, and still have absolute autonomy over your body and utter respect directed towards it.

I could deconstruct further, but that's the honest truth.

I, too, am voluptuous, and I do dress to show my shape, after being taught my whole childhood that I was simply fat and should cover up. I, too, get looks. It's so far beneath me, I'm an expert in sneering at dirty little men. I highly recommend developing it as a skill.

I advise being fighty, on your part, as it's the only language some of them seem to understand. Talk back. Make their penises feel small. They don't fucking own you.

Hope, at least, you're in a country where it's relatively safe to do that.

Fuck them. I'm sick of women being blamed. Whenever there is an ill emotion in a man, his finger will invariably find a woman to point at.

I'm sure you looked dazzling. Fuck that Uber driver. I'll slash his tires for you.

love,

-- Haitch xxx

[banditsonwheels]

Hey, I read the rest of the article first before reblogging from OP and it's bad. Furthermore Daniel would've been on the podium even if the accident between Max and Lewis didn't happened.

There are multiple ways of praising his and the team's performance but saying that today's race was more deserved than Monza after talking on multiple interviews about how deserved it was and how anybody who questioned their win is wrong it's simply distasteful.

You can read it however you want but this isn't the first time that Lando has took a dig at Daniel and everyone chug it as "British humour"

Hoi, it's quite ridiculous how bad Lando is at disguising how he feels/thinks ("He got driver of the day? What the hell?" with the driver in question right next to him ☠ or "Who are you??" to a reporter being a dick to another reporter). While he's proven his immaturity and cockiness plenty of times (driving off the track in the rain in Russia must still haunt him lol), Lando doesn't come across to me as malicious. Even when he said he had "no sympathy" for Daniel being forced out of Mclaren (that shit got my blood boiling big time at first), he was referring to a rule he and plenty of drivers apply to everyone including himself (you fail to perform/ live up to expectation, you're out), not a personal dig directed at Daniel.

To me, both can be true: Lando being super proud of the Monza P1 and P2 and saying Dan and him deserved it, as well as recognising that with the current car and fewer mistakes on his part due to being a more experienced driver, his P2 today came about less due to chance (rival crash etc.) and more to having reliable equipment. I found the article and:

Again, this can be read differently according to personal interpretation. To me, he's pointing out how satisfied he is about the effort that's been put into the car (pace) and how today's result was meaningful for the whole team as a sign of their progress. He doesn't mention Daniels efforts in Monza being less meaningful and, maybe more crucially, he doesn't say anything about the Monza podium being less rewarding or even deserving on a personal level. Both Dan and Lando drove their asses off to keep the rest of the pack behind them. And Lando isn't saying anything that suggest to me that Daniel is undeserving of praise.

Lastly, my best guess is that if Daniel (god fucking forbid) had driven the second Mclaren car today and had been asked if the Monza or Suzuka podiums were more deserved, he would have recognised that while Monza was personally gratifying, excruciating and well deserved given the circumstances, chance did play a role in him being on the top step. Making a P2 and P3 without any uncontrollable incidents in Mclarens favour (at least at the top of the grid) a more deserving experience from the perspective of the team as a whole (read: no credit to the team for Monza, that was all Daniel and his f.e.a. attitude). It's not about how Monza doesn't feel as fucking awesome as it felt before, it's about how the team can look at the data now and be like: We're seriously making progress after investing so much time and money into this bloody shitbox (I have to be very careful cause I'm using up all the empathy I have for this team in a year on a single post).

That's how I chose to look at it. I might be completely wrong. It does give me peace though to think that the little men on my screen are not all blatant cunts who'd throw each other under the bus first chance they get. Except of course for Alonso 🤝🏻

[secondhandvhs]

Okay I needed to read the whole thing or i would’ve gone insane so. SOME POINTS,

I think someone needs to tell Devin Gordon that hearing and / or cognitive impairments still exist when you’re listening to something in your native language. Does he think audio processing issues just... fix themselves in your native language?

God forbid! Viewers want to understand what they’re watching! How asinine! How utterly stupid! Don’t these idiots know that staring blankly at a screen and having to ask confirming questions every three minutes because you can’t understand what the characters are saying is PURE???

He also says that using subtitles is, and I quote, “like a lurch backward toward the silent-film era,” which is an absolutely insane thing to say both because it’s just factually incorrect - using subtitles doesn’t automatically Turn Off The Sound, Devin - but also implies that silent films are somehow lesser than those With sound?? Which is ALSO wrong?? Devin. Silent films have just as much value as those with sound. What films do you think laid the entire BASIS FOR FILMMAKING, DEVIN.

devin. get over yourself.

I don’t think Devin understands the idea of convenience. Also, sure, you may not have a DIAGNOSED hearing impairment, but how many of that “force of habit” percentage has an UNdiagnosed hearing impairment? And hey, guess what, if a “situational issue” is causing you to have a hard time listening to the dialogue, THEN YOU NEED SUBTITLES. IF YOU CANT HEAR SOMETHING, YOU NEED THEM !! EVEN IF IT’S JUST SITUATIONAL !! He’s so PEDANTIC it’s INSANE. Even if it’s a temporary need, it’s still a need.

Okay ignoring that this is such a weird thing to say, if this imaginary third person is being very quiet and minding their own business then literally why does it bother you SOOOOO much. Get a grip.

He’s now referenced how worried he is about people watching the sopranos with subtitles on TWICE. Devin I pinky promise no one is forcing you to watch the sopranos with the subtitles on...

I think Fidell might just be a shitty friend, and I hope Devin knows he is making EVERYONE he interviewed for this article look SO annoying and immature.

What’s somehow the most frustrating is that he ends the article talking about how it’s really the streaming services’ fault, because the way they balance their audio doesn’t anchor to dialogue, which.... while an extremely good point, invalidates his WHOLE article. Everything before that point is just an utter nonsense tirade against subtitles for being “pointless” to most people, only to say at the very end “actually there’s a reason why so many people use them”. DEVIN. YOU JUST SPENT AAAAALLLLL THIS TIME TALKING ABOUT HOW THERE’S NO REASON FOR PEOPLE TO USE THEM IF THEY DON’T HAVE HEARING IMPAIRMENTS, AND THEN JUST PROVED YOURSELF WRONG AT THE END AND MADE THE WHOLE ARTICLE A GIANT WASTE OF TIME.

It’s 2023, dude. There are bigger fucking issues than you and your annoying friends not being able to fully appreciate dead ringers because god fucking forbid, there is a very small line of text at the bottom telling you what Rachel Weisz is saying.

I’m going to go watch the sopranos with subtitles on JUST for you, mr. gordon!!!!

i’m going to kill you.

[binxyu]

Being the main writer for the college paper made it particularly hard for people not to be in your business because, well, you were in their’s. Thus, everyone in the school was aware of your relationship with Juyeon and Hyunjae. But, that doesn’t stop a flirty athlete from hitting on you.

>>Pairing: Lee Jaehyun x Lee Juyeon (doms) x fem!reader (sub) | athletes!jaehyun and juyeon x writer!reader

>>Word Count: 4.3k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Requested / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Choking, creampie, cum eating, cum play, double penetration, exhibitionism/public sex, harassment (not from the boys), marking, oral (giving + receiving), possessiveness, praise, saliva, and unprotected sex

The reminder you had set on your phone was not enough to take your focus off the man in front of you.

Truth be told, you were quite forgetful for a person with such a tight schedule.

Writing on your hand was tried. It didn’t really work considering you washed your hands consistently throughout the day (damn the germs in colleges), smudging the ink to an unreadable blur on your hand.

Thankfully, that’s how you had met your boyfriends. Yeah, plural. There’s an s there.

You had been rushing towards an assignment you had been given for the paper. It was a request to interview some of the top students in the music department and damn late wasn’t even enough of a word to describe how long ago you were supposed to be there.

Showing up a couple hours late resulted in most of the students already gone, hiding away in their dorms for the afternoon.

But, there were two students still waiting for you. Lee Jaehyun (although he likes people to call him Hyunjae) and Lee Juyeon.

They were your saving grace for your paper and, in return, you let them take you out on a date.

Now, months later, your relationship with them still ran strong.

But, apparently your hearing didn’t because the reminder sound on your phone didn’t even register as you write down practically everything the athlete was telling you.

He actually was a classmate of your’s and a pretty popular one at that. The whole school practically knew about him.

“And that’s how I beat the record”, you nodded sweetly, keeping that signature interviewer smile on your face. It did a fantastic job of getting people to open up and this guy was no exception.

“So, one last question, are you dating anyone?”, you weren’t asking for yourself. Especially not when you were already quite... busy... with the two men you were already dating. It was more for the majority of the female population in the school who did like him.

Besides, everyone in the school knew about you and, more specifically, your polyamorous relationship. It wasn’t seen everyday to be fair. You three stuck out like a sore thumb.

“No, I haven’t really been looking”, bullshit. You had been to the football games, the man loved to rile up the crowd. He practically chucked his shirt into a girl’s face the other night when it was “too hot”.

It was just above 50 degrees that night.

“I see. Thank you for the interview”, you smiled and he nodded, smiling back at you before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind.

“Are you looking?”, he must have noticed the shocked expression you had because his hand encased your’s, seemingly trying to soothe you as his thumb traced the back of your hand.

All it did was make you more anxious.

“No, sorry, I’m not. I’m actually taken”, there goes that reminder again but you ignored it. It was probably just your reminder to take your gummy vitamins or something stupid the boys put in there because they cared. Maybe a little too much sometimes.

“Oh, by who?”, it wasn’t a curious question. He didn’t believe you. His tone said it.

“By us”, uh oh.

Turning around, you were met with your two lovers. They hovered over you like angry wolves and you could only feel like a little lamb underneath them.

The athlete had flirted with you before and that only made the situation more intense. Of course the football player knew about your relationship. It just didn’t seem to matter to him.

Until, well, now you guess.

“You didn’t come”, shit. So, that was the reminder?

You had a date with them after this interview and it completely flew out of your mind like a paper lost in the wind.

“Sorry, I lost track of time”, they nodded and, for a moment, you thought you saw their eyes soften as they look at you but they just returned back to those icy cold stares.

Even the muscular athlete was scared. Everyone knew how possessive your boyfriends were.

It was pretty obvious after a particularly ignorant party animal laid his drunk hands on you. Before he could do anything else, he was already thrown on the floor with Juyeon’s fist landing on his cheek while Hyunjae pulled you back into his chest like he was some kind of shield.

It was hot, you weren’t going to lie, but it did make you a little worried for people you truly did just want to be friends with.

“Hey, babies, let’s go. Let’s go have our date now”, you placed each of your hands on their chests. It was a gentle move that always seemed to calm them and you smiled as you felt their heartbeats slow down, your own starting to match theirs as you felt it through your hands.

“Fine but you”, Hyunjae pointed with precision at the man, “stay away from her. She doesn’t like you and she’s said no multiple times. She’s ours” the man finally nodded and ran off while you were stuck standing there with a wave of arousal shooting to your core.

Ignore it. You can’t be walking around with marks again-

The internal scold fell short as the boys wrapped you up in a hug. You could practically feel the warmth from their anger coming off of them in waves.

“Next time listen to your reminders. We set them for you for a reason”, Hyunjae scolded you, grabbing your phone to turn off the pesky sound. You really didn’t hear it. Maybe your hearing does need to be checked.

“I know I know. I’m forgetful”, you pout and the boys looked at it, wanting nothing more than to kiss your pouty lips until they’re swollen. Juyeon just chuckles instead and ruffles your hair sweetly.

It was such a sharp contrast to how cold he looked a minute ago but you were used to it. They were usually cold to others but were exceptionally sweet to you.

Well, most of the time.

“Come on, dory. We’ve got to get outside”, that’s always been Hyunjae’s favorite nickname for you. Sadly, you couldn’t argue that it didn’t suit you.

Sometimes you even forget what your name is.

“Okay”, you nodded and held their hands, walking securely in between them. You always did feel safe with your boyfriends and being without them was honestly terrifying. They were like your bodyguards.

Out in the beautiful field of the campus was a little picnic blanket, laid out with plenty of your favorite foods.

They always loved to spoil you and, while the sight in front of you wasn’t much of a surprise considering it was their favorite form of dates, it made you happy nonetheless.

“Aw, thank you boys”, you gave them both a peck on the cheek and sat down. You weren’t much for public displays of affection.

Hand holding? That was fine. It was their way of saying that you were their’s. But, the bigger things like kissing or hugging? That was more of a private thing for you.

Those were actions you did when the three of you could safely display your love for one another without being judged because, let’s be honest, you’re not much of the outgoing type.

Sure, you have to talk to lots of people for your writing, but that didn’t mean you liked to. You actually liked to keep to yourself.

It was odd considering Hyunjae and Juyeon were quite popular due to their singing skills. Everyone wanted them but they only had their eyes set on you.

They helped you sit down, filling up your plate with delicious treats that almost had you drooling. You just realized how hungry you were when your stomach let out the most obnoxious growl you had ever heard.

Okay- maybe you also forget to take care of yourself. When you’re busy the last thing on your mind is what your body wants. Just the task at hand is important.

“Dory, do we need to start setting reminders for food and stuff too?”, Hyunjae shook his head as Juyeon handed you the plate of food. You quickly shook your head back, taking a bite of the fruit sitting on the plate in your lap.

“No, I just got busy. I’m not too hungry”, Hyunjae looked at you with the most untrusting look. He knew you and he knew that you frequently “got busy” and that meant you frequently forgot to take those vitamins or to at least drink water.

As you ate, you started to circle the important details you had written down during the interview, making a clear note in your head to add those facts into the paper.

Sad thing was: the athlete barely gave you anything to work with. Most of it was just bragging or hitting on you.

“What an asshole”, you sighed and rested your forehead on Juyeon’s shoulder. He simply chuckled and started to run his fingers through your hair. You weren’t a saint by any means but cussing was rare. You found it to be a bad habit in public while you swore like a sailor in the safety of your bedroom.

“Frustrated?”, Hyunjae asked, rubbing your back with his large palm, working the knot he knew you had. They really did know your body so well.

“Yeah, he didn’t really give me anything to work with. Just flirting”, you didn’t mean to let the last part slip out. It was just what you thinking about and sometimes that filter in your brain was clogged with all the useless information you kept there.

“Maybe you could do your report on someone else?”, surprisingly, the response was calm and you had to let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe. I’d have to ask”, you were the writer for the school but it didn’t mean you had free will. Everything had to be ran by someone else. Every decision.

“Alright, I’d feel much more comfortable if you didn’t have to talk to that guy again”, you nodded in agreement.

God forbid something go right because weeks later, after one failed attempt at switching stories, you were put on the athlete’s case once again. This time it was because he was the reason the school won against their rivals.

So, there you sat on the desk chair. You had just finished your journalism class and, ironically, the jerk was in the class with you. You both just agreed to do the interview in the classroom.

You had already told the boys about it and they promised to check in soon. You were worried but also thankful. Your gut had an awful feeling about this guy.

As you were reaching for your notepad and pen, a hand stopped you. It was wrapped around your wrist and you looked up in surprise to see the athlete’s eyes sparkling with mischief.

That can’t be good.

“Come on, no one has denied me before. Why won’t you go out with me?”, it made you scoff and you yanked your wrist from his cold, rubbing the red flesh with your other hand.

“Because I’m taken. So, drop it”, that seemed to strike a nerve. He looked furious and fear flowed through your body when he got up.

Before he could reach you, a hand gripped the collar of his shirt, lifting him up and throwing him out of the room. Juyeon rushed to you, gently wiping away tears with his thumbs.

Wait- you were crying? You hadn’t even noticed.

Hyunjae seemed to take the high road and just simply shut the door in the student’s face, locking him out.

They honestly rarely fought but when they did it was brutal. That’s why they tried to never do it in front of you.

“Are you okay? He didn’t touch you?”, you reassured him you were fine by letting him look you over, his eyes quickly looking over you as if you had some hidden life threatening injury.

After some time, you were already feeling better. The boys had made it their mission to make you laugh as much as possible in the classroom, doing silly dances and even tickling you. They just loved your laugh too much.

“Baby, I have an idea for your newspaper”, Hyunjae looked a little dazed. Well, more than dazed. You couldn’t blame him considering you had all been playing a game of cards and you sucked so fucking bad at it. Therefore, your little game of stripping if you lost resulting in the boys completely clothed while you sat there completely bare.

“And what is that?”, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. Juyeon pulled you in between his legs and wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to keep you warm. Plus, his hold was barely below your breasts and he truly did love those.

“Make it a smut”, you gasped when Hyunjae connected his lips with your’s harshly, a little more rough than usual. Then, it hit you, they held all that anger in just to use it on you.

While you would never actually write a smut for the school paper (unless you really wanted to be fired), you liked to idea of using it to rile them up. They loved your writing and, more specifically, the wonderful sex scenes you wrote.

Anytime you were busy, you’d write them one and then you’d be happy to oblige to their request to act it out when you got back to your dorm. Sometimes they were short scenes and sometimes they were long. Either way, the boys were happy to help you fulfill your fantasies.

The only difference today is that there is no prompt. They get to make up the story themselves.

“Do you want me to tell everyone how good you two fuck me? How well you stretch me out?”, just your words alone had Juyeon’s erection desperately trying to escape the confinement of his jeans. You could feel the bulge against your back and you watched as the wetness started to coat your thighs.

“Yes, tell everyone how good we make you feel”, you nodded in agreement and looked at the door, thankful that there was no windows uncovered in the room.

Finally, feeling safe, you turned around and started to unzip Juyeon’s jeans, pulling it down his legs along with his boxers. You simply tossed them, watching them land on the surface of one of the desks.

Hyunjae wasn’t far behind, removing his own clothes and doing a similar action to them, discarding them as if they were the trash beneath his feet.

“Turn around”, you nodded, turned your body back around and you immediately knew what he wanted. You leaned down to make yourself level with his cock, your eyes running over the veins and the angry red tip. Your ass was right where the man wanted it, high up in front of him.

Your lips wrapped around his shaft, running your tongue along the sides to coat it in your saliva. It always made the movements a bit easier. Juyeon groaned and dove his tongue down your slit, suckling at your clit once he reached it.

The moan you let out sent a vibration through his sensitive tip, causing his thighs to shake slightly. It was a beautiful sight.

Not forgetting about your other boyfriend, you looked up to make eye contact with Hyunjae. He licked his lips as he watched you practically gag on the large cock that belonged to Juyeon.

He was always a bit of a voyeur and, as much as he loved the sight, he couldn’t wait any longer. He sat on his knees next to you and moved his own cock closer to your mouth.

Hyunjae was bigger than Juyeon, stretching you out beyond belief but Juyeon was longer, hitting your cervix with every thrust. Both were a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. Different but well balanced.

You brought your head back, releasing Juyeon from your mouth and you replaced where your mouth had been with your hand, jerking the man off. A long string of saliva connected your mouth to his but you couldn’t care because Hyunjae’s dick was far too tempting to forget.

You wrapped your mouth around his cock now, feeling your jaw lock slightly from the sheer volume you had taken in. He was just as delicious as the previous one and you couldn’t help yourself from sucking him like he was your favorite lollipop. To be honest, he was.

Juyeon slipped a finger inside of your dripping cunt and you whimpered, listening to the sound of your pussy clenching around the digit, soaking it in your wetness.

“I think she can take both of us now”, you stopped for a moment, a little surprised. Sure, you three had discussed double penetration but you never really felt ready. Could you really handle that much?

Maybe you could.

“Let’s do it”, your words came out muffled since you were still infatuated with the taste of Hyunjae’s dick. The boys smirked at one another and Hyunjae gripped your hair to pull you off of him. Your hand instinctively let go of Juyeon’s dick too, missing the feeling of having something to play with.

You never liked to sit still but you knew you probably were going to have to after this session.

“Up here then, baby”, Hyunjae chuckled as you yelped, his arms under your body as he laid you across the desk. You winced when a pencil sharpener landed on the floor off the desk, probably breaking into pieces.

How had no one heard you before this? You had no idea.

Juyeon got up off the floor, rushing to Hyunjae’s side. Hyunjae held your thigh and pushed it open more, taking in the beautiful sight of your glistening pussy. It was his favorite work of art and Juyeon wanted nothing more than to continue the feast he was in the middle of.

“Alright, we’ll go one at a time, okay? If we need to stop then tell us. You okay with this still?”, Juyeon asked softly. Despite how cold they were, they still asked for permission and it was especially important now.

“I’m okay with it. I’ll tell you if you have to stop”, you nodded and looked up at the two. Fuck, you were so lucky.

They both had little stars in their eyes whenever they looked at you and it always reminded you that they were indeed your stars. Those little stars in their eyes only lit up when they looked at you.

Hyunjae decided to go first as the bigger of the two, gently easing his way into you. The stretch was slightly uncomfortable at first but no longer painful. You had adjusted to both of them rather quickly solo but together? That may be a bit harder.

Right when he brushed against that specific spot inside of you, you covered your mouth and moaned, gripping the edge of the desk.

Hyunjae watched you, smirking when he realized you were already becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. He loved watching you try to hold onto anything to keep your grounded to reality. He always seemed to bring you to cloud 9.

“All in. Now you’ll take Juyeon too, right? You’ll be a good girl and take him too?”, you nodded obediently and looked between your legs, noticing that Hyunjae had completely bottomed out inside of you. You already seemed so full, a bulge present in your stomach from where Hyunjae had settled.

Truly, no one could make you feel this good with so little effort but them.

Juyeon gripped your other thigh and pressed small kisses there, a gentle reminder that it was okay to stop him. That he loved you.

He sucked a few marks to the skin, making you whine because once they start they don’t stop. You’ll be covered in marks by the end of the hour.

Once you were spread wider, almost completely folded, Juyeon guided his cock in beside Hyunjae’s. Now, that hurt.

“Slower! Slower please”, Juyeon quickly nodded, noticing that your eyes were watering. He gently wiped them away and stayed still for a moment so you could get used to the stretch. When you nodded, he slowly moved again and you felt your vagina quickly adjust to the size. Like you were made to handle both.

And, now, you couldn’t stop moaning under your hand. It did very little to muffle the noises but it was your only hope of not getting caught.

Hyunjae was pressed against your g-spot as Juyeon had taken it upon himself to settle his tip against your cervix. And, inside of you, their cocks rubbed against each other in an unspoken competition to see who could go deeper.

Of course, Juyeon would win that category but that didn’t matter to Hyunjae.

Both watched their bulges in your stomach as one pulled out and pushed back in. Then, they started alternating until you were so stretched out that they could move together in perfect unison.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room as they fucked you raw, sharing you in the most perfect way. Everything felt so good that you could already feel the knot forming in your stomach, begging to be released and coat their cocks in your cum.

“You like it, hm? Does it feel good?”, Juyeon teased as he watched your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the wood beneath you. You nodded but your love didn’t like that. He gripped your throat, squeezing it slightly right where he needed to.

The blissful feeling only became more unbearable as you felt some oxygen escape your throat. Tears spilled down your cheeks before he let go, allowing you to breathe.

“Yes! Fuck, I love it!”, the boys leaned down to suck marks all over your breasts, stomach, and hips. Still easy to hide but you knew that wasn’t going to last long.

Their hips snapped against your core as they moved, Hyunjae’s pelvis bone rubbing against your clit perfectly. It made your mouth hang open in a tiny scream and you couldn’t hold it anymore, squirting all over the two as you came.

You had never done that and you were scared that they would hate it but the bright smiles on their faces made you relax. It made you feel good and that’s all that mattered to them.

As the thrusts continued, you squirmed from the overstimulation and Juyeon had to pin you down by your wrists to keep you from falling off the desk.

Their movements became more sloppy and they came together, filling up your clenching cunt with their cum. You felt way too full with all of it and their cocks still inside of you, tapping Juyeon’s arm in a silent plea.

He understood and nodded at Hyunjae, the both of them pulling out to milk the rest of their orgasm’s on whatever they could find. Your thighs, clit, stomach, chest, arms, etc. You looked like the filthiest thing they’ve ever seen and they couldn’t be more proud.

Juyeon put his clothes back on and went out to grab a towel from the locker room as Hyunjae just stared at the cum spilling out of you and down the side of the unfortunate wooden desk.

He seemed to be deep in thought as you tried to breathe correctly, his finger entering your hole without warning and you looked down to see him pull it out. He looked you dead in the eye as he licked off the mixture of cream, humming happily when he found out he loved the taste.

“We taste delicious together”, he leaned down and held your ankles as he started to lap at the cum dripping out of you, eating it up like it was a five star meal. You shivered from the feeling of his warm muscle meeting your cold skin as he licked you clean, licking his lips every time he came up for air.

“How in the world am I going to write an article when that is in my head?”, you motioned to the sight of the cum dripping down his chin. His lips were swollen and his brown locks stuck to his forehead from the sweat. He looked ravishing.

“Smut”, he popped the m for emphasis and you shook your head, letting him kiss you so you could taste it too. It tasted like the best mixture of fruit and you found yourself diving your tongue in his mouth for more.

“Oh yeah, we definitely have to stay together if this is how good we taste”, you giggled and Juyeon had entered just in time to get a taste too. He kissed you, swirling his tongue inside of your mouth before he pulled away. He licked his lips and acted as if he was critiquing a meal.

“I’d have to give my thanks to the chef”, he joked and you smiled, letting out a little chuckle as you tried to sit up but your legs were not having it and neither were your boyfriends.

They rubbed your thighs as you laid back down, trying to ease the soreness in them. Juyeon kissed your hand lovingly and your heart swelled from all the love you felt for the two.

You had no doubt that they were really the ones you were going to spend your life with.

“Looks like the school newspaper is going to have to wait. Unless you feel like writing on a cum stained desk”, Hyunjae chuckled and you huffed, knowing that that paper was definitely not going to be done by its due date.

[ktinastrikesback]

Alright, here it is: The meta post about Eddie Diaz and mother figures and how it all leads to Buddie (I think). Thanks to @yramesoruniverse for your help with this, and @kitkatpancakestack and @evanbucklies for inspiring it! I really have been thinking about this nonstop and had to get it all down. This got quite long, so I'll include a cut in order to spare everyone who doesn't want to continue reading!

We first get an idea of Eddie's complicated thoughts surrounding mother figures throughout his whole storyline with Shannon in season 2 when he romantically reconnects with her for Christopher's benefit. I do want to keep the focus here trained on Eddie in season 4, but I want to point out a season 2 line that is pretty fitting. As much as I don't want to use a Shannon quote as a starting point for a meta, I think this one is actually pretty useful: "...Eddie always knows what's best for everyone...God forbid you stop for a second and actually ask them what they need." While it's harsh and spoken out of spite, Shannon does make a point here which becomes relevant at the end of season 4.

We don't know a whole lot about season 4 Eddie (thanks writers) aside from the fact that he's working on being a single father (he tells Marjan in the crossover that he's "doing the whole single dad thing") and being a support system for Buck and the rest of the 118. Eddie's "arc" this season is moving on from Shannon and beginning to date again (a very small and limited arc, which hopefully season 5 will remedy). Of course, because it's Eddie, the core of this arc is him wanting what is best for Christopher. And it seems pretty clear that what Eddie thinks Chris needs is a complete family with a mother figure (note how he asks Bobby if he's "happy now, with Athena and the kids" and just assumes that Bobby is talking about Ana Flores), but the universe pushes against this idea throughout the whole season. There are a lot of examples in season 4 of unreliable mother figures (for example, the alcoholic mother who causes the wreck in Blindsided), but in order to save some space here, I'll list and discuss those in another post. The main thing I want to point out is that we've seen that mother figures aren't always perfect, and they aren't the end all be all that Eddie thinks. And canonically, the show suggests several times throughout the season that the partner that Eddie needs/wants and who is best for Chris is actually Buck.

In Breaking Point, while Eddie is on his date, it's Buck who is at home taking care of Christopher and getting him through his nighttime routine (which establishes that he knows the routine and has gotten Chris ready for bed before, hence the reference to his "cautionary tale"). On the date, when Ana says that no one has been in his life since Shannon passed away, Eddie noticeably looks uncomfortable (the will reveal makes this scene and that particular comment and Eddie's subsequent reaction so rich. Eddie knows that what Ana is saying is completely untrue, because the person he trusts most with his son is with him at that exact moment). Later, when Eddie tells Christopher about his new 'friend', he says "it's a woman." And...to be honest, what the hell was that? He could have said, "I'm dating someone" or "I have a girlfriend." But he says it like this? And it's weird...right? Christopher is the one who has to say "girlfriend." Also his tone of voice when he says it...it's suspicious to me. Anyways...Eddie talks with Ana about Christopher's reaction and her first instinct is to take a break and wait for Christopher to warm up to the idea so as to not cause him more pain. Meanwhile, Chris is out the door, in an Uber, and on his way to Buck, the person who actually gets Chris to talk about his feelings and who fixes the whole mess. So while Eddie is talking with Ana, Buck is playing a parental role AND promising Chris he isn't going anywhere, completely juxtaposing everything Ana has said and done in this episode (throwback to Fools, anyone?). Just like we see in 4x14, the perfect partner that Eddie is looking for is already putting in the work, no questions asked (and this is all before Buck knows about the will!). Yet Eddie is still trying to force it with Ana.

We see this again very briefly in Parenthood. Eddie and Buck are seen agreeing on parenting ideals on a call, similar to how we saw them work together in Future Tense to talk Chris out of playing video games. At the end of the episode however, when Chris asks to join the movie, Ana just jumps ahead and lets him in, not consulting with Eddie. Of course, this isn't a serious issue and Eddie is happy to have Chris join them, but it still carries on with juxtaposing Ana with Buck. It's also a bit interesting that Chris sits between them, parallel to the video game scene from season 3. But again, it's a very brief scene, so I don't know how much value it has overall.

We see all of this come to a head in 4x13 when Eddie becomes invested in the single mother and her son from the balcony call. Interestingly, this call happens after Eddie's conversation with Carla ("make sure you're following your heart"). On the call, Eddie flirts with the mom. This is interesting because we've seen many times in the past that Eddie...doesn't like flirting, especially on the job. Eddie openly flirting with the mom here may be his way of fighting against what his instincts are telling him Carla's comment was about (him liking Buck/a man). Eddie quickly becomes invested in Charlie (the son) and takes a liking to his mother because he relates to her. You can kind of see the gears working in Eddie's head when he's at their apartment...he's admiring her and perhaps maybe fantasizing about having a partner who gets it. And he sees a mother taking care of her son...reinforcing his love for the mother figure. But of course, we all learn by the end of the episode that this mother figure is extremely warped and not at all what her child needs.

The best part about this plot is the way it plays into the shooting scene at the end of the episode. Just before he gets shot, we see Eddie in an interesting framing choice (I am genuinely serious when I say that I want to sit down with Brenna Malloy and ask her about her directing choices for this whole scene):

The mother and son are placed into separate ambulances, and Eddie stands between the two vehicles. Visually, Eddie is literally placed between the mother figure and the son, and Buck is standing in front of him (at a slight distance). As (thank you to @kitkatpancakestack for pointing this out!) the ambulance with the mother drives away, Eddie says "shoulda gotten here sooner" to Buck (who replies, "That kid is just lucky he met you." He knows how to reassure Eddie and recognizes what is good for the child). Then of course, Eddie gets shot. But let's focus instead on why this framing before the shooting is important: the universe does scream, and it sure as hell was screaming at Eddie this whole episode. Carla calls him out for not following his heart, he idolizes this mother only for her to end up being horrid, then he gets shot with his partner standing right in front of him (you know, the same person who takes care of his son for the entirety of the next episode).

This can be read so plainly: Eddie has been fighting hard for what he thinks is best for his son, and he's stuck in this relationship with Ana because he thinks she is what will make Christopher happy. Meanwhile, Buck is in front of him and has been there the entire time putting in the work with Chris and making him feel heard, loved, and important. This ties right back to that Shannon line: if Eddie had simply asked Christopher what he needs/wants, it's very possible that his answer would be "Buck." Eddie doesn't need to be stuck in the middle of this relationship he doesn't care about because Chris' happiness is not dependent on having a mother figure.

Of course, we didn't see very much of Eddie in 4x14 so we don't really know what is going through his head regarding the shooting or Carla's comment just yet, but I'm hoping we see a lot of him working through all of the events that took place in 4x13/14 throughout next season. Because of the way the mother/son storyline ended up and the way they framed Eddie in the shooting scene, I'm willing to bet that he's going to be reevaluating just what Christopher needs and what he already has (with his Buck).

(Also side note--the welcome home party scene...when Buck is watching Eddie greet Christopher, notice the framing there too. The photo of Chris and Shannon is on the right side of the frame, Eddie and Chris in the middle, and Buck to the left. You already know what I'm going to say, so I'll leave it at that...)

Anyways. Edmundo Diaz is confused about what he and Christopher need, and it's actually a brilliant way to dive into a storyline about his sexuality and his feelings for Buck. Remember that post-finale interview with Tim where he said Eddie is always concerned with what's best for Christopher? That there will be a lot to explore with Eddie? I take everything Tim says with a grain of salt, but looking at all of this, there's quite a bit here pointing in the direction of pining Eddie. It's not wishful thinking, it's in the text.

I'm literally just applying basic film analysis to these scenes...and everything is adding up to a larger picture. I'm really excited to see what Eddie's arc in season 5 will be because there's so much set in place for it to be really great.

[hotwings0203]

Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

************

At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ WHO'S THE ALPHA? ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: hi there💞 can i request where reader and antiono dawson are dating in secret and she's pregnant and now they getting it on with some smut in his office and her father hank catches them with some angst please

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.9k

❚❙ NOTES: There's no smut because I couldn't imagine the situation of being caught in the act, also keeping in mind that reader is Hank's daughter. There's no way Antonio would take that kind of risk.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you knew this morning that you're pregnant, you haven't stopped thinking about how you are going to say it to Antonio. It's not a big deal, but it means that your father will know it too. And that's a real problem. But the happiness inside you doesn't let you worry now about that. It's been a long year hiding it from him and maybe it's a good way for him to discover it.

Honestly, you can't wait till coming to his house to tell him and, by the time it is, your father must be in your home already. So you decide to drive to the District. Antonio has to be there, since he hasn't text you yet. Leaving your car in the private parking, you walk in by the back door, going upstairs straight to the Intelligence Unit, passing away what they call the cage and the interview rooms. You can't contain the smile curving up your lips when you find your boyfriend very focused on something in his computer, writing down some kind of notes in a report. He doesn't even notice your presence, till you're in front of him.

“Voight left ten minutes ago”. He says, keeping up appearances just in case someone can hear you.

“We're alone”. You reply raising both eyebrows.

Leaning back on his chair to check both sides of his office, he drags his seat away from his desk enough for you to sit on his lap. Infected by your smile, Antonio can't help but draw the same gesture while placing an arm around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head. He's delighted to see you after a long day of paperwork and his ass stuck on his chair. Sometimes he doesn't know if it is worse to be there or to be in the street. But you're his reward, so he doesn't complain.

His lips find yours in a sigh, purring against them when he feels your warm wrapping him. The only thing he needs. His kisses are soft, slow, gentle. Just like his caresses. Just like him all the time. You found the most tender man you could ask for, and you thank God every day of your life. He takes care of you like no one else, with the most minimal details, without asking anything back. You two are made for each other, that's a fact.

“Antonio… baby, I have to tell you something”.

“Can't it wait?” He mumbles pecking your lips once and again, watching him bite his in the short meantime of meeting again.

“Yeah, actually for… like seven months, more or less”.

With his mouth on yours but not moving a single inch, he pulls himself away from you frowning confused. Your boyfriend doesn't last longer than two seconds to put his brain cells to work and connects the dots. His gesture changes from playful and joy to a big pout, as his eyes are filled up with tears.

“Dios mío”.

It's the first time you watch him crying since you know him, for more than eight years. You don't doubt cleaning the tears that fall down by his cheek, as his sobs become a little constant.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a broken tone of voice, tilting his head for a moment. You just nod in silence. “When did… you know?”

“This morning. I'm two months now… Are you… happy?”

“Of course I am, princesa”. Lively laughing, he urges you to stand up to do the same and push you into a tight hug between his arms.

Of course, it wasn't something you two planned. And of course, it wasn't something you two were expecting. But you have never felt this blissfulness in your life. You're in a rollercoaster of emotions right now, just like your boyfriend who doesn't know what to say, nor what to do more than to spread a bunch of kisses all around your face trying to transmit you every single thing he is feeling right now.

Since Laura left him, Antonio thought he would never be loved with so much intensity, and then, you clapped eyes on each other. You know him ever since practically, but that time was different. You had a rare day in the hospital and he had closed a two-months investigation satisfactory. But you were tired like never before, feeling vulnerable and with a mix of emotions roaming your bodies. You came to the District looking for your father, but he was gone to celebrate already, so he offered himself to drive you home. And it just simply happened.

One year after, you're expecting your first baby. And probably not the last.

“Making friends?”

The well known tone of voice of your father interrupts your moment. Your bodies are frozen against the other, putting distance between both slowly. Gulping and turning toward the sergeant, you watch him waving a hand waiting for an answer. The tip of his tongue licks his teeth, arching an eyebrow as his face hardens. You aren't able to say anything, looking at your boyfriend who seems more terrified than you, rubbing his forehead.

“Hm…”

Your father grabs his gun from the holster on his belt, taking the safety off. You know he's just pressuring you to talk, but you block his possible target by putting ahead of Antonio. Just in case.

“Dad… Dad, list—listen”.

“I'm listening, baby girl”. He scoffs, placing his hands crossed under his abdomen.

“We… Uh…” Your heart is racing so fast that you're afraid to collapse, until you feel one of Antonio's hands hold yours, placing himself by your side. “We're together… like… a couple”.

“You're not anymore. Go home and wait for me there”.

“Da—”.

“Don't make me say it twice, (Y/N)”.

“Go. We will talk later, I promise you”. Your boyfriend's whisper doesn't make you feel convinced, but you obey in silence not being another option.

With your arms around your abdomen and your hands trembling tangled on your own uniform, you leave the District looking back every two seconds. It's not like Hank controls your life, but this is a question of honor, and you trust in Antonio. You know they need to be alone to talk some sense into him. But you also know what is going to happen.

Two long hours sitting on your sofa, desperate with your phone between both fingers waiting for a call, a text, anything. You knew it wasn't a good idea to hide it from your father, but to be honest, you didn't know that Antonio and you could go that far. The baby wasn't something planned, it just happened. You haven't even had time to react, but you still have some hope. Hank would never forbid you to continue this relationship now that you're pregnant. Though you know it's not going to be easy for him to assimilate it.

When the lights of a big SUV illuminates the street and the facade of your house, you don't lose time getting up from your seat to run to the entrance, opening the door and waiting for your father to say something as he steps out of his car. He doesn't look happy, not at all. You've lied to him all this time and you're aware of how hurt his ego is right now. It's going to cost you more than a sorry to bring back his trust in you. Licking your bottom lip in silence, you can't help but go downstairs to meet him on his path.

Hank has his hands kept in the pocket of his jeans with a rough and disappointed gesture in his face. You aren't sure what to say, being just a couple steps away from him.

“Maybe Antonio tripped and broke his nose”. He just says with feigned innocence, causing you to arch an eyebrow and cross your arms on your chest. “He's in the Chicago Med. You should go”.

Your father is about to pass you away to the inside when you stop him by a hand on his chest, pushing him back to face you.

“You're still my favorite man on earth”. You mumble bowing your head down for a second, till he holds your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

“That's why he isn't dead, princess”.

“Isn't it because I am pregnant, and he is the father?” Not trying to contain a soft grin, you grab his other hand to lace your fingers with his and place them on your belly, knowing it's going to work.

“His grandfather is more than enough”. Hank replies squinting at you, before tilting his head to press a kiss on your forehead.

Leaving the front of your house straight to your car, he waits for you outside till you abandon your neighborhood to take the highway and reach the hospital faster. You're ashamed, you can't lie, but if your father didn't have a single scratch means that Antonio didn't hit him back, which is good. He still knows who the alpha is. You can go against the world, but not against Hank Voight. That's a fact. Everybody in Chicago knows it.

Not caring too much about how you park your car, your legs move quicker to the Emergencies being received by Will, who is trying to not laugh pressing both lips against the other. Making you a sign with a silent congratulations, your eyes travel around the open doors till finding Antonio sitting on a stretcher with his head bowed down, swinging his feet.

Knocking on the white metallic frame, you stick your head out of it with a sweet smile on the corner of your lips. “Need a ride back home, inspector?”

“May I need a nurse too”.

His brown eyes have a shine that only appears in them when he sees you after a long, long day; when he's about to be hugged by you, kissed, touched, loved. Putting down from the stretcher, you help your boyfriend to wear his jacket and zip it up over his torso.

“You okay?” Feeling your cheeks burning because of the shame, you put both hands on his neck to take a look of his nose covered with a gauze.

“He just threatened me and punched me. Honestly, I thought he would bring me to a remote place to make me dig my own grave. I think it did quite well, don't you?”

Antonio's positivism makes you laugh, nodding with your chin. Holding your arms and taking them to his mouth, he kisses both with so much care and tenderness, before tilting his head to catch your lips between his. At first, it's weird and awkward for you to be kissen for him in public, after a year hiding it. But it only lasts a short second. You can't wait to stop containing your impulses for hugging him and holding his hand and calling him amor in front of all; not in front of your dad, obviously. You're too young to die.

[detectivehannibal]

Dr. Lecter Will See You Now

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language.

A/N: Award for the worst title goes to me. Also, I’m gonna give third person a try. I have a love-hate for second person.

Requested by: @lousyydimwit

Word Count: 1,719

“It is. Do you have an eye for brands, Dr. Lecter?”

__

She was spoiled. It was as simple as that. She had always had everything handed to her on a silver platter. She knew this, of course. She wasn’t exactly stupid. A little blind to reality maybe, but not stupid. Everyone tended to have a bit of an immediate judgement when it came to her. She was always well put together and never had any part of her that was out of place. She was determined to be at her best all the time, mainly because everyone expected her to be. She never really thought about how exhausting it could be.

Her parents had worked endlessly in their early years of marriage and careers to ensure that she’d have the most stress free life possible. They struck it big and were able to send their little girl to the finest schools possible to assure her success. She had lived a VERY comfortable life. 

Still, she enjoyed being given anything she could ever want and/or dream of. She loved her lavish life. At least, until she was told that her time was up. Her parents had always told her that they would always take care of her until she was old enough to handle herself. She was 25 now and well past the age of being able to provide for herself. They weren’t cutting her off so to speak. They would just casually begin sending her less and less money until they were sure she was fine to make it on her own. So, they dropped the bombshell on her. 

She was going to have to get a job.

She wasn’t angry or anything. She knew this day would come eventually. She just hated that it came so quickly. At first, it was hard for her to accept that she was finally going to have to become a working adult, but she kind of found it exciting once she began job searching. 

But not just any job would do. She would rather be dead than work in a job that required real hard labor. She just wasn’t cut out (or used) to that sort of scene. God forbid that she break a nail while working. She ruled out waitressing, any kind of retail job, or anything that involved intense customer service. Her options were slimming down fast and she was getting discouraged. That’s when she found her golden ticket. 

She was skimming through the paper one morning when she saw an ad saying that a psychiatrist in the Baltimore area was in need of a secretary. She wasn’t familiar with the name of the therapist...but he looked oddly familiar. In any event, she saw this as her chance at work. She dialed the number, set up a time for an interview, and she was well on her way.

Here’s a little secret. She didn’t actually expect to get the job. She thought that Dr. Lecter would be interested enough in her to give her a recommendation for another job opening, not actually hire her as his secretary. Which was why she was stunned when he basically hired her on the spot and told her that she would start the following morning. When she realized that this was actually happening, she knew she had to put her absolute best presence forward. At least, until she was comfortable to relax into it. What he didn’t know, however, was just how much of an impact she was going to have on his life. 

She arrived on time the next morning, ready to get to work. Her job was pretty simple. Answer the phone, check in his patients as they arrived, take messages for him when he was in a session, get him coffee when requested. The basic assistant kind of job. She sat behind the desk in the lobby of his office, acquainting herself with the new area. He exited his office a little after lunch to check on her. It had really been the first time he had actually interacted with her that day.

“Ms. [Y/L/N],” He said standing in front of the desk. She looked up at him respectfully, but a hint of a smirk on her face; “I presume you are settling in nicely?”

On top of being a privileged lady, she was a fast learner. All her years of extensive schooling had prepared her in ways she never expected. She was acing her first day, much to his surprise. He was extremely observant and he expected her to be...well...kind of an idiot. 

“Yes, Dr. Lecter. Everything is just fine.” She replied confidently.

He hadn’t figured it out just yet, but he found her rather interesting. She wasn’t intimidated by him like most people were. As a matter of fact, that was the very reason he had been in need of a new secretary. The last one was so frightened of Hannibal that she took her talents elsewhere. It wasn’t like he had tried to kill her or anything. He had only done that to one of his former secretaries. 

“Good. I was hoping you were adjusting well.” He responded, putting his hands in his pockets.

She smiled, returning to her work briefly before realizing he was still standing there. She raised a brow;

“Do you need something?” She asked sweetly.

He was looking at her outfit. A skirt, blouse, and blazer with a pair of heels. He noted that it was a quite expensive getup, something none of his previous assistants had worn. 

“No, but I must ask. Is that Alexander McQueen you’re currently wearing?” He asked. 

He knew the answer was yes, but he wanted to see if she actually knew herself. He was beginning to get an inkling that she had come from a more than rich lifestyle. Luckily, she did actually know what it was, but she didn’t always know the origins of her clothes. Everything had always been bought for her. 

“It is. Do you have an eye for brands, Dr. Lecter?” She questioned.

He gave the slightest smile;

“I tend to, yes.” He answered simply.

He walked back into his office to prepare for his next appointment. She was a little disappointed that the conversation had ended so abruptly, but she knew that wouldn’t be the last time she ever spoke to him. This was a full time gig after all. She was over the moon with how things were going and it looked like she was going to be just fine.

Her first week went by without a hitch and the more conversations she had with Hannibal, the more bold she became. She didn’t know it yet, but she was finally having a say in her life. She was able to make decisions without something popping in to suggest her otherwise. She could be herself. However, her real self caused annoyance to come out of Dr. Lecter. But he was a patient man. He knew she just wanted to impress him. Even though he wouldn’t tell her yet, she was the best secretary he had been able to have in years. That still didn’t stop the twinge of irritation in his chest every time she said something unprofessional.

He entered the office around 7:00 AM, briskly walking by her desk like a man on a mission. She gave a fake offended gasp;

“Well, good morning, Dr. Lecter!” She called after him. 

He stopped at his doorway. He would admit, that was rather rude. He turned to face her;

“Good morning, [Y/N].”

That’s when she realized why he had been in such a hurry to get into his office. Coffee had been spilled all down the front of his white collared shirt and his pants. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly;

“Oh, I see you’ve had a great start to the morning,” She said sarcastically; “Would you like me to go get you another outfit?” She asked reaching for her keys.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I keep a spare in my office closet.” He explained.

She paused for a second, then a devious grin spread on her face. He mentally slapped himself, knowing she had found humor in what he had just said. 

“Do you now? Is it often that you have to change clothes while at work?” She asked, giving an implication that he wasn’t catching on to yet.

“It’s only for situations like this,” He said referring to his coffee stained outfit; “What are you inferring?”

She stood from her chair, leaning against the desk;

“Well, I’m sure you have to do something in between sessions.” She hinted.

What an insane accusation! He would never...pleasure himself while at work. And even if he did, he surely wouldn’t tell her about it. His posture and expression stayed unchanged, but he was getting agitated.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that statement, [Y/N].” He said honestly.

She was unfazed and pressed on;

“Come on, Dr. Lecter. I know you get bored in there. I’d probably do it too,” She admitted; “Honestly, if I looked like you? I know I would do it.” She flirted.

Now he was taken aback. That was quite the confession coming from his secretary. He was mentally noting to himself that this was probably why he was so intrigued by her. She wasn’t like his previous secretaries in the sense that she wasn’t afraid to say anything to his face. She was extremely honest and forward with her thoughts. He found that refreshing in a way.

“I’m flattered that you think that of me.” He accepted the compliment.

She shrugged, running a hand through her hair;

“I’m just saying.” She replied, sitting back down at her desk.

He pondered her words. Surely, there wasn’t anything wrong with being attracted to his secretary...or anything wrong with his secretary being attracted to him. He was still at his door, deep in thought. She noted the time was now 7:15, and he had his first patient at 7:30.

“Dr. Lecter,” She said snapping him out of his daze; “Paula Wallace’s appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

He nodded, getting back to work;

“Right. Of course.”

He retreated into his office finally to change into a new shirt and pants. A fresh thought entered his mind as he finished buttoning his shirt;

Maybe this new secretary was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[honey-dewey]

That Time Marcus Almost Threw Hands With a Reporter

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Male Reader

Word Count: 1,127

Warnings: Homophobia

Marcus expected many things upon bringing his fiancé to a joint interview, but the interviewer being a homophobic piece of garbage was not one of them. Let’s see how he reacts, shall we?

“Please?” 

You sighed, looking down at the half kneaded bread dough on the kitchen counter. Marcus had a hero interview on Monday and he’d been begging for you to join him. As a fellow Heroic and his fiancé of a year, you two would have to announce the wedding publicly eventually, but the right moment still hadn’t come up. “And if I do agree to go on with you?” You asked, finally giving in. 

Marcus perked up, his face filling with eagerness. “I’ll take you to that beautiful place you love for a weekend. The one up in the mountains.” 

“Y’know I love it so much because the cell reception is absolute garbage and no one can contact you, right?” You asked, smiling and continuing to knead the dough. “I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Yes!” Marcus said happily, coming around the island and wrapping you in a bear hug. “I love you.” 

You laughed, feeling him press sloppy kisses into your neck and lift your feet off the floor. “Marcus! Marcus! I’m trying to bake!” 

Marcus put you down, kissed you once more, and headed off to take a call before dinner. 

That night, at dinner, you kicked Marcus’s ankle under the table. “I considered it.” 

“Hm?” Marcus hummed, nudging Missy and gesturing to the broccoli on the table. “Eat some.” 

Missy groaned, but did as asked. 

“Marcus,” you said, redirecting his attention back to you. “I’ll go with you on Monday.” 

Marcus froze, his fork clattering out of his hand and to the floor, spilling food everywhere. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

Immediately, Marcus lit up, smiling wide and pulling out his phone. “I’ll tell the others!” He said, and Missy almost pointed out that he wasn’t supposed to have his phone out at the table, but you stopped her. 

“Let him be happy,” you said softly, watching Marcus joyously text his coworkers. “And can you grab a paper towel please?” 

On Monday, you and Marcus were getting ready together at the interview site, you adjusting Marcus’s bow tie as he actively complained that he couldn’t wear his leather jacket. 

“It goes with everything though!” He pointed out, adjusting his shirt cuffs and pouting at you. “Why can’t I wear it?” 

“Because this is a formal interview,” you said, grabbing your own tie and putting it on. “Should I wear my ring?” 

Marcus nodded, taking his own engagement ring off its usual necklace and sliding it on his finger. He kissed the ring that remained on the necklace, setting his old wedding band back around his neck. 

You slid your own ring on, smiling at Marcus. “Shall we?” 

Marcus laughed, readjusting your shirt collar. “We shall.” 

You two walked out, hand in hand. The interview was done live, which was an odd experience, but you didn’t mind. 

“Marcus!” The interviewer said as you two sat down on a couch set up on a stage. “It’s been too long! Rumor has it you were in retirement?” 

“For a bit,” Marcus said, smiling politely. “But then we were attacked by aliens and I just never got the chance to retire again. Plus, I met Stitch and he sort of became my partner in heroics. I’d have felt terrible leaving him to deal with Miracle Guy all day long.” 

The interviewer laughed, turning to you. “And you’re something of a small legend amongst the fans. Almost unheard of until you rose to fame overnight with those incredible healing powers. It seems like yesterday that the world was introduced to you. What an achievement.” 

“Thank you!” You said, leaning a bit closer to Marcus. “I do prefer to leave the events and the interviews to Marcus though. Public events were never my thing. He’s just got that certain air for them.” 

The interview went smoothly right up until the end, when the interviewer asked you a question about how you met the Heroics. 

“Through my boyfriend at the time, actually,” you responded. “He worked there as a security guard, and he convinced me to reach out to them and show them what I could do. After they saw it online, I had an interview with Marcus, a short trial run in the field, and the rest is history.” 

The interviewer’s face scrunched. “Your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah.” You shrugged, twisting your ring. “We aren’t together anymore, though. He’s married now.” 

“Hopefully to a woman.” 

You froze. “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s unnatural for men to fall in love with men,” the interviewer said, gesturing loosely. “God forbids it.” 

“Marcus,” you said under your breath, seeing his fists ball out of the corner of your eye. “Don’t.” 

Marcus reached over your lap and grabbed your hands. “I think you’ll find you’re talking to the wrong people about this,” he said tightly. 

The interviewer eyed your locked hands. “You two aren’t.” 

“Engaged. Set to marry in June.” 

Immediately, the interviewer shook her head. “But what about your daughter? She needs a mother and a father!” 

Marcus stood up, and you grabbed his elbow. “Marcus.” 

His jaw tightened, the fury unmistakable in his eyes. You gripped his arm tighter, hoping to avoid a fight. “Marcus.” 

He turned to you. “We need to leave.” 

Two days later, you were curled up on the couch, Marcus reading a book and you cuddled up beside him scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. Heroics had gotten understandably pissed when you and Marcus had stormed off at the interview, but they’d understood, so you two were merely suspended from active duty for a week. 

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, seeing yet another post about your interview. “Marcus, hon, look at this.” 

Marcus looked up, adjusting his glasses and reading your phone. 

“Huh.” He put his book down, squinting closely at the phone screen. “She was fired?” 

“Of course,” you said, taking your phone back and continuing to scroll. “People are entirely backing us up. It’s a bit surreal. We’ve gotten so much support and so many well wishes for the wedding.” You smiled, liking a post that gushed over how beautiful your engagement rings were. 

Marcus sighed. “I still wish it hadn’t happened on live TV.” 

“I’m still mad that you almost hit her.” 

“She insulted you!” Marcus insisted, looking over your shoulder at another post, this time about how much the poster loved how quickly Marcus came to your defense. “I wasn’t about to leave your honor undefended.” 

You scoffed, leaning over and kissing Marcus’s nose. “Mhm. Sure thing, Prince Charming. I think I can defend my own honor, hm?” 

Marcus smiled, drawing you closer for a proper kiss. “So, soon to be Mr. Moreno, do you think we should publicly announce the wedding yet?” 

You laughed. “Nah,” you decided happily, curling back up in Marcus’s lap. “Let’s wait a little while longer.”

[retrievablememories]

this is me trying | lucas

title: this is me trying pairing: lucas x black!reader genre: angst request: “Hey do you think you can do a sequel about Lucas’ No manners like an aftermath of what happened after he hung up on her and what she’s been up too all this time. And what Lucas decided to do.” word count: 2.1k warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of an abortion, relationship problems, cursing a/n: that banner is boring af, but photoshop is a bitch who didn’t save my previous file and i don’t have time to play all night

the sequel to no manners. okay... i decided to go for a different type of ending here since i tend to make the couple break up/stay broken up in these angsty stories...and i know people tend to like endings where things are resolved...though EYE personally would not recommend this irl 💀

It’s been a few months since you’ve seen Lucas on any video call, and even longer since you’ve seen him in person. These couple months alone have seemed even longer and more tiresome than the previous duration of time when you were kept apart from him.

You haven’t heard from him in that time span, either, which makes you feel...it’s hard to know how to feel, especially with how you yourself froze him out to avoid admitting the truth. It’s easy enough to know what he’s doing through WayV’s posts on YouTube and Instagram and wherever else, but you don’t enjoy knowing next to nothing about how he’s doing—like you’re merely another fan when you’re actually his wife.

You also understand, though, that maybe you don’t have much room to complain with your previous actions. That doesn’t make it any less painful. Especially with him ignoring your small attempts to reach out to him.

Despite Sharia’s earlier advice, you decide to stay at your job and continue avoiding Daniel at all costs. Staying at home and having nothing to do during this conflict would only make you slip further into depression, which is the last thing you need right now. You’re in no state of mind to be trying to find another job and doing countless interviews, either. 

Luckily, Sharia doesn’t mind helping you stay away from Daniel or create the perfect facade that your marriage is still doing fine despite it being the exact opposite. Everyone at your job still thinks things are as they have always been, and you’re relieved for that.

That’s about the only point of relief in your life, though.

You’re reaching the end of your limit with how much you can endure of staying in that same house without Lucas, being reminded of him in every corner of every room. His clothes in the closet, his side of the bed, his favorite coffee mugs in the kitchen. You’ve already tried hiding some of his things out of sight so you wouldn’t have to face unwilling memories, but it’s too difficult to completely erase a presence that fills every aspect of your home. And that’s not something you really want to do, anyway—which makes you feel more downtrodden and unable to let go.

You decide you need to get out, get away, change your surroundings. It’s wearing you thin to keep coming back to this empty house everyday, drifting around the space like a misplaced ghost. If you stay here another month, you think you might lose your sanity once and for all. So, eventually, you start packing. Sharia doesn’t mind letting you stay over for a little while, and you are grateful for the welcome distraction and comfort that being in her company will provide.

On a day when you’re making the last few preparations to leave for Sharia’s place, you hear a car pulling up in the driveway. You’re confused for a few seconds, as you weren’t expecting any visitors and today isn’t the day Sharia is supposed to come over. However, your heart kicks up in its rhythm when you go to the window in the kitchen to check. It’s Lucas’s car.

For a few moments, you’re unsure what to think or how to react. You’ve wanted to see him for so long, but now that he’s here, you want him gone again. What will he say when he sees your things packed? Will he even care? Most importantly, what has he come here for, after all this time?

You don’t have much more time to think about these things before Lucas is getting out of the car and walking up to the door. You stand in your spot in the kitchen, frozen as the key turns in the lock.

Lucas walks into the house cautiously, as if he doesn’t know how to properly approach this environment after being gone for so long. When he catches sight of you through the kitchen entryway, he stops in his tracks, still standing in the living room.

Both of you stare at each other for a few long and agonizing seconds. His eyes are still weary and hurt like they were the night you told him the news, but there’s a question floating there, too.

“You’re not…?” His eyes drop down to your stomach, the front of your shirt, and it looks the same as he remembers it being months ago, before he left for China, despite you telling him of your pregnancy. If there’s one thing he remembers, it’s that.

“No,” you respond quietly, “There’s no way I could go through with it.”

Lucas pauses, then nods, though he doesn’t say anything else for a few long moments—nothing to explain his sudden appearance, nothing to comment on the decision you made.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the ground, shifting his jaw.

“What...did you come here for?” you finally ask. The words sound harsh to your ears, and you wince internally, but you don’t know what else to do to make some kind of headway.

“Just...getting some things.” Lucas rubs the back of his neck warily, as if he’s not sure this is the right answer. Or maybe he just doesn't want to be here right now at all, having this conversation with you.

“Getting some things,” you echo. “Are you…” You’re not sure what you want to ask right now. “Leaving?”

“What’s the point of questioning me about it? Aren’t you doing the same thing?” Lucas’s eyes shift to one of your suitcases in the middle of the living room, still sitting open.

“Yes, but...you don’t even understand why I’m doing it. You’re just leaving. Are we both just going to abandon this house without even talking it out? That’s just the end of everything?” Now that you’ve found your voice again, the questions keep coming.

Lucas comes forward to step into the kitchen. “What would you like to say? What else is there that I need to know? You were drunk and lonely, weren’t you?” That phrase comes out with a sneer, which makes you wince like you’ve just had something physically thrown at you.

“I’ve spent months agonizing over this shit, Yukhei. I’ve felt completely alone and in the dark here. I had the abortion, I’ve been to therapy, I haven’t even looked at alcohol since then. I’ve seen the error of my fucking ways, believe me, and I still feel no more reassured about any of this.”

“Do you think that’s going to solve everything?” Lucas says, crossing his arms and staring at you from across the room.

“I don’t know! Maybe I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I didn’t want to have another man’s child! I did it for myself, to feel back in control of myself!”

“Y/N, you can do whatever you need to make this easier for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to come running back to you.”

You sigh heavily and sit down in the kitchen chair, rubbing your hands over your face. “Maybe it’s a mistake for me to hope we can work something out at this point, but I long ago realized that living without you is next to unbearable. Why do you think I’m trying to get the fuck out of here? Everything here is ‘you.’” You don’t look at his eyes during any point of this speech, just instead staring at your hands where they meet on the table. “I see that if you want to leave, I won’t be able to stop you. But at least give me a proper explanation and a clean break like a human being.”

Lucas falls quiet again. You think he might just leave you there to get his stuff and go back to wherever he wants to go, but he sits in the chair across from you. You still don’t look at him.

“I also missed you a lot,” he admits, quietly, as if he doesn’t want to say it where it can be heard. “I didn’t really want to. But. Obviously, those emotions don’t just go away…”

You simply nod, not knowing the right way to respond to that. 

“You still wear your ring,” he says it flatly, like it’s an insignificant observation. You can’t tell whether he’s surprised at it or judging you for it, for whatever ridiculous reason.

“Did you not want me to?” you say, irritated. “We are still married. And I don’t need the people at work asking questions.”

He nods as if he’s just understood something and the realization of it has made him even more displeased. “Right, of course, it’s all about looking good. Maintaining the lie, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you snap. “You should know that more than anyone. No one even knows I’m fucking married to you except Sharia. God forbid I don’t want to hear more bullshit from Daniel about my marriage, I guess.”

Lucas’s face is still for a moment, and then his eyebrows crease. “Does he still bother you?” The words leave his mouth tentatively.

“Of course he does, Yukhei. Whenever I can’t get away from him completely. He’s not just going to stop because my life has turned to shit and my husband hates me—which he doesn’t even know.”

Lucas shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t guilt trip me.”

“I’m only stating what clearly seems to be a fact now.” Then you get up from the table, weary of the conversation and even more hurt by the fact that he didn’t try to deny your statement. “Now, if you want to get your stuff, go get it. I won’t hold you up any longer. Though—you should think about preparing for a divorce if you’re really done here.” You walk out of the kitchen before waiting for his response, missing the way he stiffens in his seat.

You sit in the living room fussing over your suitcase for a long while before he decides to walk into the room. “Look...I don’t know how to feel about all this right now, but I’m not sure if that’s what I...want.”

“...What.”

“Y/N. I’m saying, I don’t think I want to...separate.”

“Then what do you want? To keep dragging me around with an empty marriage while you move on with your life? Just file the damn papers or I will.” You’re angry with him now, and a few tears slip out. You feel like you’re being thrown around at this point, and you have no clue what his intentions are. You get even more upset with yourself for crying, though there’s no reason to be.

“I don’t fucking know. Just not...this.” Lucas is deflated and maybe just as lost as you are, though you don’t want to acknowledge that while you’re still upset at his indecisiveness. He sits on the couch with you, and you’re partly surprised that he even still wants to be anywhere near you with how he was acting and talking earlier.

He seems a little shaken to see you openly crying, as if he’s never seen it happen before. Like all of this is once again new to him. Lucas puts his head in his hands, bearing a striking resemblance to the image of him doing the same thing the day you told him what happened.

You both make for a pitiful sight on the sofa like that, sitting as far from each other as possible but hurting over the same thing. Finally, Lucas takes his hands away from his face and, tentatively, as if you might shove him away, reaches for your hand. He covers it with his own, curling his fingers around yours slightly.

You stare at his hand on top of yours, bare without his ring, unsure how to react to it. You look to your side, though he doesn’t meet your eyes at first. There’s another crease between his brows.

“Just let me...figure some things out. We—we could...figure some things out, together. Before we...think about taking that step.” This response is still just shy of giving you a definite answer, but it gives you a small, painful hope that maybe things aren’t destroyed forever.

You nod, wiping some of your tears away. You’re almost afraid to take your eyes from where your hands are joined, as if you’ll discover it was just some mirage or figment of your imagination if you look away.

“Okay...we can do that. If...you want to try.”

Lucas looks at you fully now, his eyes impossibly deep with things he’s already said and has yet to say to you, and nods back—a tiny movement, but it’s there and true all the same.

[cakebeam]

I think Michael not flirting openly with men as much as women could have been explained with the trauma tied to his sexuality, but that would have meant digging into his complicated feelings about his sexuality instead of the show pretending that unlike Alex he's super fine with it, so now it just comes across as the writers essentially treating Michael as straight unless he's in a bubble scene with Alex nobody else witnesses. And never showing Michael being interested in men or at least discussing it around others in general honestly makes the people in his life treat him as straight too. Isobel had one one night stand with a woman, discussed it in detail with Max, and what happened? It's immediately seen as valid. Her dating a woman in the future becomes a real possibility, as stated by Max in the Crashdown scene with Liz. Everyone around Michael pushed him onto Maria assuming it will be good for him without ever bringing up the possibility of him being happy with a man who isn't Alex. And like you said, they could have at least brought up Michael's sexuality with Maria. What happened instead was Maria insisting on exclusivity on Michael's end and forbidding hook ups with women. And the less said about 2x06 the better. It's hard to see all of this as anything other than the show/network wanting brownie points for rep while also trying to remind the audience as rarely as possible that Michael isn't a womanizing straight man. And that doesn't change just because a bunch of Karens in this fandom way back in s1 decided that whatever this show does with Michael is the greatest bi rep not to be questioned.

👆👆👆 Honestly nonnie, this is the truth. This excerpt especially of what you said:

-so now it just comes across as the writers essentially treating Michael as straight unless he's in a bubble scene with Alex nobody else witnesses. And never showing Michael being interested in men or at least discussing it around others in general honestly makes the people in his life treat him as straight too.

Michael's bisexuality is only attributed to Alex (wrapped up in queer trauma) and it's only seen on screen when Michael is alone with Alex. There haven't been any scenes with Michael flirting with Alex in front of others. There sure are a ton of Michael flirting with Maria publicly including in front of the main group, funny how RNM wrote it that way...

You're right, Isobel was given way better bisexual representation on the show for a one night stand with a woman we'll probably never see again. In fact, I would not be surprised if we never see Isobel flirting/pursuing a woman again. I think RNM is going to go with either Kyle or Greg or another guy to pair with Isobel honestly (which I'm not mad about it if it is Kyle or Greg but still, any rep lost is a bummer). Carina was saying how she was planning on potentially getting Isobel a girlfriend in season 3 but Carina is out (and also is a known queer baiter so who knows if that was ever true) and in Lily's interviews for season 3 she seems to be avoiding that "girlfriend" question pretty hard and instead talks about Malex for gay/queer rep. Who knows, maybe I'm just keeping low expectations for any queer rep for season 3 outside of Malex because this is a CW show and god only knows what sad, gay trauma they'd write for Isobel (look at that Rosa/Noah/Isobel crazy season 1 sh*t).

Maria was constantly pushing a heteronormative narrative on not only Michael but Alex as well. What that was about is entirely on the homophobic storytelling that RNM was pushing in season 2 and Maria was the face of it. It's why I can't stomach even looking at her and have to filter her out in the tags. It's really unfortunate her character was used in such a hurtful and traumatizing way towards the gay/queer community but what's done is done. I can only hope for season 3 she just stays away from Alex because I cannot take anymore of the sad gay man propping a straight woman up bullsh*t.

I think if thirsty queer fans are so die hard for any crumbs of bi rep they can get, I can't say that's not their right to be. However, I just wish more LGBTQ+ viewers would ask for more because we do deserve to be treated equally in media and demanding fair treatment from networks is how things get started. Don't be satisfied because Michael says he's bi. Ask for what you deserve which is respect in getting equal representation with QUEER actions and discussions being seen on screen. If you just accept the crumbs than we'll never get the cake. Networks like the CW/Warner Bros. and others will not budge unless viewers demand for better LGBTQ+ representation. You gotta let your voices be heard my fellow cosmic queers 🌠

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[honeydots]

190?

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought”

Summary: Goro winds up having more to drink than he planned, and who else to find him on his drunk walk home than his soon-to-be-assassinated rival.

cw: underage drinking, minor blood mention

-

(ao3 link)

-

The smell of wine was always too thick for Goro’s tastes. 

He dreaded to hear the hollow sound of the cork popping, and the clink of glass-on-glass as each man drank to their hearty victories. 

It wasn’t uncommon that alcohol was served at these sorts of things, with Shido’s colleagues and their celebratory get-togethers. He would always be expected to attend, but not for long. Just enough time for his presence to be known, so that he could come and go without becoming the prudish center of conversation. 

He knew they spoke about him while he wasn’t around, and that was unavoidable. These little events were the best way to control their conversations from afar. Leave them with more answers than questions and with casual suspicions, not deadly ones. 

Come in, speak in pretty sentences, have a glass of wine, and leave. 

He knew better than to reject drinking. Or rather, he knew better than to reject drinking with this crowd. Some men would come in and make a show of Goro’s being a minor, as if their own morals wouldn’t allow it. Laugh along with their drunkards, and let Goro remain blissfully sober.

Though others, and these were usually the important ones, didn’t care. Goro was to politely accept their offer, and to drink not all but most of his glass. Don’t appear eager, but don’t appear sheepish. Drink to another successful success, another voter turnout, another hit. 

He’d always think too hard about these nights. Figuratively, wine was the blood of Jesus, drunk to remind Christians of the sins that he died for. Goro wondered how figurative his glass was now. Tonight, they were toasting to blood soon to be spilled; it was practically in their glasses.

Goro certainly wasn’t Christian. It was useless to think of wine as anything more than grapes. 

But sometimes he’d imagine watching the men pour their glasses and take a sip, only to discover the salty allure of blood washing into their mouths. Watch them wretch and choke, spit out their consequences onto the ground. A literal taste of their medicine. 

Goro would time himself to his drink. He could even call it a game. Full meant to begin his charming conversations, to grit his teeth and bear through the night. Quarter gone often went by largely unnoticed. If he wasn’t speaking to someone while he was a quarter gone, then he’d done something wrong. He was supposed to be sociable and he’d best act like it. 

Half was a tedious measurement. By half, he needed to wrap up any of his quarter chatters and then stand aloof to the side. Allow himself to be open to any quieter, private talks. He’d wait to be approached, while keeping a watchful eye on the atmosphere. 

Half could also mean he needed to join into whatever room encompassing conversations that he hadn’t been a part of. Even if it was to simply nod along to whatever nonsense the guests were spouting. It was important to be involved in the key factor. 

The last stage, and often the most delicate, was three quarters. At this point, he needed to wedge himself into whatever group he could. To act terribly interested and, when appropriate, deem it the time he must be getting home—he was a working student, after all. He would give his goodbyes, relinquish his glass, and walk home, chewing breath mints like tobacco. 

But this was a delicate stage because, on days like today, there would be the option of a refill. Some guest with intentions would see his glass half empty, and offer to fill it again. Never enough wine (he wondered if blood was applicable here, too) for a young man like him. 

Depending on the party, Goro would reject it. He could even use this method as a way home—saying he’d had enough, and should be going anyway. 

But it was different tonight. The man who he’d managed to dive into conversation with was new and important. The founder of a law firm who’d recently begun business with Shido. He’d grown relevant quickly, and this was the first chance Goro had to make an impression on him. 

Two glasses isn’t too much. 

Goro didn’t care about this man whatsoever, in actuality. As relevant as pond scum in the grand scheme of things. But favors went miles in this business, and keeping his head on his shoulders was more than worth a glass of wine. 

And so he went from three quarters, to full, to half, to empty.

An empty glass was a last resort exit, but it was the most effective against the threat of another refill. He’d stayed too long now. He excused himself, definitely, content with his seamless image he’d left with the man. 

It was when he stepped outside, into cool air and away from the bustle and buzz, that his decision came back for its vengeance.  

He wasn’t exactly dizzy, but he wouldn’t call himself clearheaded. Disoriented, maybe. His face felt a little flushed. He tried to take deep breaths, keep oxygen going to his brain, let himself calm down. Maybe he was just a bit too excited. He faced forward, focused, and walked. Straight lines, straight back. He would be fine—he only had a little more than usual tonight. 

Though, it wasn’t long until he ducked into an alleyway to collect himself. 

Shit, he thought, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to get himself to focus. 

It didn’t work. He felt groggy. 

I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought. 

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t some lightweight who couldn’t hold his alcohol. He’d drunk at least this much before, and he’d been perfectly capable of getting back to his apartment. What was different about today? 

A displeased clench of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten yet. No breakfast, a skipped lunch in favor of an interview, and wine for dinner. 

So, that was it. He needed to eat something. Easy fix, probably. Something a bit hearty would be best, but he was sure he’d see effects even with a small snack. 

He hardly felt comfortable going anywhere in the state he was in. God forbid someone he knew saw him, to say nothing of the media. But a dark alleyway on a Tokyo night wasn’t an ideal locale, either. 

He considered going into the metaverse, just to get himself out of immediate danger and let the alcohol digest a bit. Let it settle. He could easily slip into Mementos and avoid the subway station. No food would await him there, but at least he wouldn’t be at risk of being seen. 

It was dark enough no one would see him enter. He settled it—he’d go inside until he felt sober enough to walk home. Ideally, it would be a short visit. In and out quick enough that he’d still be able to catch the final train. He could excuse being out late with a case, if he was cornered.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the Nav. He was moments away from tapping “Mementos” on his recently visited, when a voice startled him away from the screen. 

“Akechi?” 

Goro whipped around (casually being an afterthought) and stood face to face with who, on a night like this, he’d call his judge, jury, and executioner. 

“Akira-kun,” said Goro, immediately flipping his switch onto a sweeter and less completely deranged setting. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? Awfully late to be out, isn’t it?” 

Obviously it had to have been Kurusu who’d decided to make himself known. Of all the nights to show his face. Shido’s event had just had Goro toasting to the predicted fall of the Phantom Thieves. A celebration of a plan being put flawlessly together, centering around Kurusu’s uncanny murder. His coincidental suicide. 

Goro had hoped to return without even thinking about him, lest he risk himself getting distracted. His death was just business, and that’s how he needed to think of it. Keep Kurusu behind thick walls of paperwork, or as just another shadow in a crowd. 

But instead, there he stood, making the aftertaste of the wine on his tongue turn bitter and guilty. 

“I’m heading home,” Kurusu began, looking uncharacteristically bothered. He had a twinge more of a frown on his face, and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was hardly reassuring. “Are you… okay?” 

Goro bit his tongue. Who else to notice his state of being completely not okay than Mr.Your-Problem-Is-My-Problem himself. Maybe Goro could amuse himself later, thinking about what Kurusu would do if he told him just what was going through his mind. How would he solve that problem? 

“I’m feeling just fine, though thank you for asking. I’m heading home myself, so if you don’t mind,” Goro said, giving a polite half wave and trying to ignore how completely awkward this interaction had been. But two steps forward had him steadying himself on the wall, and Kurusu at his side. 

At his side. He was touching him now. Holding him up. It suddenly felt like all too much. He jerked away, filling his head with a whole new kind of dizzy. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to steady his mind. 

It was expected that Kurusu wouldn’t let that slide. He stood back, eyes wide. 

“You’re not alright.” 

Yes, that was clear now, wasn’t it? He felt lucky that drinking didn’t make him snappy.

Goro’s elongated silence didn’t seem to tickle Kurusu. It wasn’t like he was doing a fantastic job at pleasing Goro at the moment, either, so he let the pause hang. 

Kurusu filled the quiet. “Are you… drunk?” 

Goro could feel his edge falling. He would not lean into it. He put on a dazzling smile. 

“Ah, Akira-kun, ‘drunk’ is such a crude term. There’s a better one—what was it? Maybe feeling a bit buzzed—” 

“Did something happen?” 

Kurusu’s gaze was very firm. 

Goro didn’t hold it for long. He sighed and tried to relax his stance a bit. 

“An interesting correlation you’ve just made, but no. Nothing has happened,” he started, folding his arms into himself. “But, I am more intoxicated than I’d preferably like to be, I’ll admit.” 

The concern on Kurusu’s face was thoroughly unwelcomed. 

“How much did you drink?” 

He’d been hoping that Kurusu wouldn’t play the role of saint. The scrutiny of a worrywart was not the attention he was seeking. 

Goro leaned (casually being a forethought, now) onto the wall of the alleyway. “Not enough to warrant your distress, Akira-kun. I simply haven’t eaten much today.” Kurusu’s frown grew deeper, and Goro thought to use it to his advantage. “If you’re so worried, though, perhaps you could get me a little pick-me-up from a convenience store.” 

Goro’s stomach twisted, making him flinch and lose his balance. He scrambled to keep himself straight on the wall, the alcohol not helping him in the least. That was all the convincing Kurusu needed, much to Goro’s displeasure. 

“You need to sit down somewhere,” Kususu said, annoyingly kindly keeping his hands off of him, but prepared to act as a brace. “We aren’t far from Leblanc. Sojiro already went home.” 

“Now, I—” Goro began, but found himself feeling a bit undone by Kurusu’s ever present stare. 

He weighed his options. He could shake Kurusu off and enter Mementos by himself, wait foodless for his mind to clear, risk falling asleep there and being late tomorrow and possibly stumbling into trouble. 

Or, he could rest at LeBlanc for a while. 

Kurusu always had such miserable timing. 

Goro scrunched up his nose. “...Fine. If you’re willing to offer me your hospitality, I will take it,” he said. 

Kurusu’s expression lightened enough to make Goro’s stomach feel bubbly. What a wretched effect he had on him. This was no time to be getting attached. Much more of this and something really would stick. 

Goro straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase, and stood tall. He needed to clear his head somehow. Kurusu was simply his means. He was in an unideal situation that needed to be resolved, and nothing more.

He would not let it be more, two glasses be damned.  

***

The train ride did nothing but make him feel worse. Drunk and hungry was a terrible combination. Each bump of the car made his stomach churn. 

He hadn’t attracted much attention in the shabby railcar, which was lucky, other than the watchful eye Kurusu had been keeping on him. It was humiliating to have someone so nervous over his condition, and Goro wished his choices hadn’t been so black and white.

 He was almost too attentive. Goro wouldn’t think about it. 

When they’d arrived at the café, Kurusu’s word held true. It was scarce, no customers or owner. That, at least, was a relief. 

There was a noise from the attic, and soon after trotted down Morgana. He stopped in his tracks halfway on the stairs, round eyes turning big upon seeing Goro. 

“Akechi,” he said, turning his head to Kurusu. “What’s he doing here?” 

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you give us a little time?” 

Morgana looked between them again. Either Goro missed something, or Morgana accepted that for what it was, because he turned around and headed back upstairs without another word. 

Goro sat in his usual spot, but didn’t feel very typical. He felt wrong just enough to know that he’d be here for a little while. It didn’t help that he was already getting tired. 

Usually, alcohol’s one solace was that it made falling asleep come quickly. Now, as he fought his eyelids from betraying him tonight, he wished it’d do anything but. 

“Is curry okay?” Kususu asked, already tying an apron around his waist. 

Any food would do, really. Anything to help him sober up. “I was under the impression curry was about all you knew how to cook.” 

Kurusu gave way his signature hint of a hint of a smile, and put himself to work. Goro leaned back in his chair and tried to just focus on his breathing. He should’ve said no to another glass of wine. Or even just snacked a bit at the event. Though he loathed eating in front of Shido and his colleagues, it would’ve saved his evening alone. 

Goro watched Kurusu stir the warming pot of curry absentmindedly. The scent was endlessly better than the wine he’d been served. Savory smells of spices and meat. The hunger and the alcohol must’ve been getting to him, because he had to catch himself before he thought it felt homelike. 

This was not a home. This was not his home. 

Kurusu noticed Goro watching, but Goro was growing too tired to care. He needed to eat something before he thought something damaging. A wandering mind did him no good here. 

It was very quiet in the café. Silence wasn’t uncommon between them, but it was rooted in tension. Goro didn’t trust himself much to speak first. He’d always been careful with his words, but the more his thoughts grew out of hand. the more likely he was to spill sensitive information; or say something too private to let anyone else hear. 

Kurusu, on the other hand, was oddly talkative tonight. 

“So, do you drink often?” 

He was as difficult to read as ever. Goro didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current state of disheveledness, but Kurusu maintained his reputation. 

“Not really, no,” Goro readjusted a bit in his seat, and looked down at his hands. “Tonight was… This isn’t a habit of mine.”

He did have the underlying concern that the more he did this, the more it might become a habit, if Shido’s example was anything to go by. He’d hate to have inherited anything from a dastardly man like him, but rancid alcoholism would feel like an all new low. 

Kurusu remained stone faced. “I see,” he replied flatly. 

“Might you be disappointed? I never would’ve taken you for the ‘party animal’ type, but perhaps you aided me for the sake of a connection?” Goro asked, and then immediately regretted not taking the chance to let their conversation die down. Drunk and tired was not a good mix for his big mouth, it seemed. 

“I think I’ll survive,” Kurusu said, raising his eyebrows. He set the temperature lower on the burner and got out a plate. It seemed Goro’s meal was finished heating up. And thank god for that, because the hunger was really getting to him now and he was feeling much more miserable than he’d have preferred for a Thursday night. 

Kurusu served his curry still steaming, and Goro dug in as calmly and controlled as he could manage, with a quick, “I appreciate it,” before taking his first bite. 

He could tell he was being closely watched as he ate. Goro decided not to comment on it quite yet. Getting a little clue-in on Kurusu’s mind always proved interesting.

He mentally berraded himself for thinking that. It was thoughts like those that inclined him to keep his mouth shut. Something about his drowsiness was making him sentimental, and this clearly wasn’t the time. 

“You think I’d only help you because I wanted something?” 

Again, Kurusu was single handedly keeping their conversation alive. He usually required a bit more effort to pry into, and Goro positively knew why it was different tonight, but kept himself from thinking it. 

Goro gave himself a performative moment to think of a reply. “Are you referring to my question earlier? Well, really, is that so odd? Such an intent is hardly uncommon,” he replied, and took another bite. He wanted to say he was sobering up, but so far the curry was only affecting his stomach, not his mind. 

“So you think that’s my ‘intent,’ then.” 

“Do I have a reason to think otherwise?  You’ve set up your own sorts of deals within your friendships, haven’t you?” Goro began again, growing intrigued.  “Kitagawa-kun makes you those cards, as one example. It’s only natural that we, as humans, have a give and take relationship with each other. Wouldn’t you agree?” Another bite. 

Kurusu looked unimpressed. Goro always knew he’d get something interesting out of him when he wore that expression. 

“You think so?” 

He met his eyes solidly and smiled. “I do.” 

There was a short silence. Goro haughtily scraped up a large spoonful of rice.

Kurusu caught him in a mouthful. “So, what are you giving me, then?” 

Swallowing gave him a moment to think. Though it was time wasted, really, because it wasn’t some grandiose question. He hoped he hadn’t said that to sound smart, like some stumping finisher. But Kususu hardly failed to disappoint—so he kept his hopes up. 

The back of his mind told him getting excited was the worst thing to do while trying to detach himself, but he buried the thought. 

Just for now is fine. 

He cleared his throat. Where was he? 

“You don’t think I’ve held up my end of the bargain? I disagree. Let’s see,” Goro crossed his legs and brought a finger up to his chin. “I believe I’ve taught you some sleuthing techniques, haven’t I? Though, that was early on. I can see how you may not be satisfied. However, I have introduced you to quite a few hot spots, yes? And I’m aware of the effects that billiards and darts had on you.” He scooped another spoonful of curry, but finished his thought before he took his bite. “And, I certainly hope I’m not mistaken that our conversations have been gratifying for the both of us.” 

“That’s what you call give-and-take?” Kurusu replied. Knowing him, though, it was less of a reply and more of a challenge. Goro had forgotten all about how badly he wanted to be in bed at home, now. He may have been tired, but this was a rivalry he intended to dominate. The tricks Kurusu had up his sleeve always proved entertaining. 

“‘That’ is what I call ‘what I’ve given you.’ If you’d like my takeaway, well, let’s just say you’ve given me plenty to think about over the last few months.” 

Kurusu leaned onto the counter. Goro appreciated the maintained distance, since he still wasn’t exactly in a sensory mood. The alcohol hadn’t left him yet. “You know, I can think of a better name for that.” 

“Oh?” Goro said, “Can you?” 

Kurusu almost smirked. “Silly little thing called friendship.” 

Goro sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he hadn’t picked up on what he’d been implying. Kurusu could win some and lose some. “Akira-kun, I’m not trying to argue that friendship is off the table. I simply think any relationship can be boiled down to the action of compromise.”

“And I’m trying to argue that I think that’s a shallow way of thinking,” Kurusu shot back. 

Goro felt his jaw clench. “Your reasoning?” He presented the easiest smile he could muster. 

Kurusu put himself back up at full height and slid his hands into his pockets. “A relationship doesn’t end once a standard has been met.” 

Goro rolled his shoulders back. The high of debate was clearing his mind. He hardly noticed. 

“Ah, but don’t you think another goal could be made? Or, even two or three? And, a connection doesn’t have to start with just one, you could have dozens of deals with a single person at a time,” he argued, feeling quite confident. “Have you heard of the Social Exchange Theory? It suggests that relationships are formed by maximizing benefits and minimizing drawbacks. In other words, what one gives to you is the defining factor, while you try to deplete what is taken.” 

Kurusu seemed to consider that, but his pause gave way to Goro’s unfinished defense. “Let me give you an example: you and Sakamoto-kun are quite close, aren’t you? Is that not a result of both of you, mutually and continually, giving and taking from each other?” He continued, watching Kurusu quirk an eyebrow. “Perhaps Sakamoto is a carefree presence for you, and perhaps you offer him a place of security. But, as one would expect, each of you have flaws. Sakamoto can get rambunctious, and his actions have consequences that can rebound and affect you. That is a cost of his friendship. A give and take, even in non-physical terms.”   

Goro took another bite of curry in anticipation of his response. It was already growing cold. At this point, Goro really didn’t think that the curry had helped him clear his mind at all— it was just their conversation in privacy that had given him a chance to focus. 

Not that the effects of his drinking were completely gone. He was still very sleepy, and he knew he tended to ramble in exhaustion. Goro had done that here before, even. He needed to figure out a way to wrap this up soon, but. Kurusu wasn’t like the men around Shido. He enjoyed their talks. He didn’t have a glass of wine in hand telling him how much longer he needed to hold up. 

It was only talking, between them. 

He would power through it. He imagined that once he was up and walking around and heading back to the station, that he’d regain energy again. It was only the atmosphere that was making him so tired. He couldn’t possibly fuck up so poorly as to say something incriminating at a .06 blood alcohol content. 

“Me accepting that my friends have flaws doesn’t take from me,” Kususu answered, giving Goro another chance to flex his argument. 

“Then, shall I speak more literally? You often cook for your friends, don’t you? That taxes something directly from you, time and effort.” Goro put his spoon down entirely and leaned into their conversation. Kurusu wasn’t the kind of person that Goro felt he needed to chide, but a bit of teasing felt inevitable. 

Kurusu replied straight away. “Me cooking for my friends isn’t the foundation of our relationships.” 

“But, you have made deals in similar fashions, haven’t you? Would you really argue that none of your relationships were formed from a deal you made? You, of all people?”

He watched the reaction his spiel got from Kurusu. Hardly a twitch, but something had dug under his skin. Goro knew he was enjoying this as much as he was, and it almost wrenched out a grin from him.  

Kurusu put a hand out of his pocket and propped himself up, leaning towards Goro on the counter. It closed the space between them further. They still weren’t touching, but his presence was on top of him. It felt close, and Goro had to fight moving away. 

“I’ve made plenty of friendships through a give-and-take. But the idea that it’s the only way to view them is one-sided. You can say that it’s an exchange in hindsight, as an outsider, but I’m not thinking about what I get from people when I’m with them. I’m thinking about them, and that’s all.” Kurusu took his weight off the counter. “It’s material otherwise. Only thinking in wins and losses.” 

Goro pinched the back of his arm habitually. He spoke a bit quieter. “So you think it can’t be effectively utilized?” 

Kursu looked at him firmly. “I think it’s the wrong mindset to have.” 

There was a short silence that hung. They stared at each other. Goro broke the contact, closing his eyes and resting back in his chair. He giggled. 

“You never cease to entertain, Akira-kun. You really are interesting,” he sighed, trying to make it sound a bit wistful. “Would you tell me what led to such a thought process?” 

Kurusu’s expression fell. It was quick, and barely noticeable, but he looked pained. Like what Goro had said had squeezed something hard, but disappeared just as fast.

He replied with his typical emotionless slate. 

“There was something that changed.” 

Goro tilted his head, and brought up a hand to rest it on. “That something being?” 

He wondered what Kurusu might say. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Perhaps a view in a palace, or a girlfriend, or some connection that would be ultimately meaningless to Goro, but something he still wanted to get his hands on.

Suddenly, his mind felt very present. He shouldn’t have thought that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be asking this. Now was the time he was supposed to be creating a distance between them, not trying to open him up and solidify whatever makeshift acquaintanceship they’d developed. He was going to kill him in four days. Getting to know him better was supposed to have been a distant ‘what if.’ He shouldn’t feel so curious. 

But Kurusu smirked and said, “A secret,” despite Goro’s dilemma. 

“Ehh,” Goro complained, feeling both relieved and indescribably annoyed. “You won’t be giving me a ticket into the back of your mind tonight? After all that buildup?” 

Kurusu laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it.” 

“Try me,” Goro said, and smiled wide. He ignored his itchy eyes telling him to go to sleep. And the pushing voices reminding him that he was setting himself up for more pain in the long run. 

He knew that. He couldn’t help himself, though. He knew he’d get nothing out of this. 

The realization made him gulp. 

Kurusu eased up. “Maybe once you tell me why you’re ‘buzzed.’” 

Goro wasn’t sure he could do much more to keep the conversation from ending. His little cycle of trying to make things as terrible as possible for his future self was going to come to an end. “I think I’ve been keeping up appearances very well.” 

“You can’t fool me,” Kurusu replied, and grinned a very faint grin. He took off his apron. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” 

“Mm,” hummed Goro, and just like that, Kurusu disappeared from the conversation. Goro put his elbow onto the counter and propped his head up, leaning into his cheek. Their talks often ended in nowheres, neither of them giving up their stances. He tried to keep himself from thinking how nice it was to have such a conversation partner. Maybe it was the alcohol, and his growing drowsiness, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Kurusu wasn’t his friend, but he could be. Could’ve been, was more accurate. He was digging himself into a hole, thinking this way. But he’d buried himself in something deeper a long time ago. 

Goro’s eyes felt heavy. He thought to rest them, just for a moment, until Kurusu returned. Then he could say his goodbyes, their debate having come to an end. And he’d go home, and he’d feel a bit like he was rotting away, and he’d sleep through it anyway. 

But for now, he was comfortable in a café, with low lights and a could’ve been just barely out of reach. He was a little undone, but that was just fine for now. 

He closed his eyes and barely felt himself drift off. 

***

Akira dug through one of his dusty boxes upstairs, while Morgana sat staring at him from his bed. He stuck his arm in deep, feeling around and checking colors and fabrics when he could pull something up for air. 

“You two sure are chatty, huh,” Morgana remarked, flicking his tail back and forth. 

Akira kept his nose in the box. He was almost positive he’d put it in here. Maybe it had gotten more buried than he thought. 

“What’d you guys talk about?” 

It didn’t take long to find his prize. It was a bit stuck in the middle, and he had to yank hard to free it from the mess of clothes. But as he pulled, the tension eased, and out popped his summer blanket. He threw it over his shoulder, and he heard Morgana jump down from the bed. 

Akira got up and waited for him to join him. 

“I’m not sure you’d be that interested.” 

Morgana huffed. “You’re always talking about weird stuff.” 

The two of them walked downstairs. Akira was trying to be quiet, skipping the second and notoriously squeaky stair, while also attempting to shake out the blanket a bit on his way down. 

His silent mission must’ve proved successful, because Akechi was still laying down on the counter sound asleep, in the same position he’d left him. Akira watched his shoulders rise and fall a bit. He looked peaceful. 

Akira spread out the blanket between his hands. It was light, but it was better than nothing. It could get cold some nights. 

“You know, I still don’t get why you’re being so nice to him,” Morgana said. 

Akira didn’t reply. He walked over to the chair Akechi was sitting on, and tried to lightly but snugly wrap him up. 

Morgana hopped onto the counter. “You know what he’s trying to do. You don’t owe him this much.” 

The blanket hugged around Akechi’s shoulders and back well. Akira made sure it wouldn’t fall off. He tried very carefully not to touch him. Waking him would be bad, and Akira didn’t want to initiate something that would make him uncomfortable. His jolt from earlier had kept Akira off—he wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

Morgana persisted. “You aren’t going to get anything out of this.” 

Akira stepped back, and made sure there weren’t any uncovered spots. Akechi looked warm, and he looked soft, and he looked exhausted. Incredibly, incredibly exhausted. 

“I know.”