#YOU GET TO SEE THEM LIVE. IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. AND YOU LEAVE????

[gojosbabi]

needy for gojo 💞

synopsis: you come back from a night out with the girls, drunk and needy for your boyfriend, gojo satoru

gojo satoru x reader smut! MDNI

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“baby? where are you?” gojo calls out from the foyer of your shared apartment. 

“in the bathroom! I’m getting ready to go out!” you say while holding a curling wand in your hair.

gojo pads over to the bathroom and is about to pull you into a bear hug when he stops to admire the view. “my baby really is the sexiest,” he coos while his gaze travels from head to toe, almost swallowing you up. you were dressed in a black corset paired with a tight mini skirt and silver accessories adorning your ears, neck and wrists. 

“thank you baby. just wait until you see the final look with the boots on,” you giggled while setting your hair into place with hairspray. 

tonight was the first time in a long while where all of your close girlfriends are going out together. It was decided that the night’s activities would include bar hopping and clubbing. 

sturdy arms circle your waist and his lips hover dangerously close to the part where your shoulder meets your neck. “can I leave a mark? to let everyone know that this pretty baby is all mine?” gojo says while leaving soft kisses along the side of your neck. 

you instantly melt into his touch. “satoru, don't worry. I’m literally wearing our promise ring on my ring finger,” you giggle. 

“no, I’m worried. men are gross,” he says once he breaks contact with your neck.

“then, just a small one please,” you say leaning back in his chest. after getting the okay, his lips leave a small pinkish mark on the side of your neck. “wish I could just keep you here all for myself tonight. promise me you’ll be safe and that you’ll call me immediately if anyone bothers you,” gojo says in between kisses on your cheek. you’ve always loved this protective side of him. it makes you feel so safe and treasured. 

“of course, thank you baby. be patient and wait until I get back, ‘kay? then you’ll get my undivided attention,” you teased while turning over to face him. you stand on your highest tip toes to give him a firm kiss on his lips. 

gojo drops you off in front of the first bar of the night where your three friends are waiting outside. he rolls down the window to remind you, “make sure to call me tonight, and you all stay safe, okay?” the girls unanimously agreed to his request and he drove off once he saw you in. 

the night was perfect. there was so much to catch up on about each of your lives. it was drink after drink and before you knew it, you were the drunkest you’ve ever been since your early college days. it was finally the last stop of the night and you all landed in a club where everyone danced their heart out. when it was finally time to leave, you were stumbling all around, eyes heavy from the influx of alcohol in your system, so your best friend unlocked your phone and called up gojo. 

“hey gojo? it’s me. she’s super wasted now, can you come pick her up? the others all left with their partners and I’m waiting with mine until we see her off,” she says. 

gojo shows up to the club in record time and is carrying you into the passenger seat. after a long exchange of “i love you”s between you and your best friend, gojo thanks them and drives you back to the apartment. in the car, you’re all giggles and babbling about the events of the night. when gojo opens up the door on your side to bring you up to the apartment, you grab his shoulders and pull him into a messy kiss that he does not protest. “missed my pretty boy s’much,” you say, smiling into the kiss before withdrawing. “missed you so much too,” he says as he picks you up to head inside. once inside the apartment, he sets you down on the couch. 

“are you okay, baby? need more water?” he says while helping you out of the jacket he put on you in the car. 

“no.. jus’ wanna shower with you, I feel gross,” you slurred while reaching your arms up for him to pick you up again. 

“okay, whatever you want, princess.” he says while his lips curve into a smile. gojo loved how clingy and needy you could get after a night out.

you are standing in front of the sink, holding onto the counter to keep balance as he removes your skirt and loosens up the laces in the back of your corset top. As he does that, a brilliant idea pops into your head. you decide to push back your bare ass to perfectly rest on his clothed cock, moving ever so slightly.

“are you teasing me, baby?” gojo says gripping your hips to keep you still.

“no… what do y’mean?” you say feigning innocence, knowing exactly what you’re doing. this makes him laugh as he turns you over and lifts you up on the sink. gojo bends down to remove your socks, revealing his undercut and nape.

You stare at his exposed nape before two hands are holding his head still as you lean over to give it a bite and kiss. 

“s’cute. I love it s’much” you say, giving it as many kisses as you can before gojo stands up. now that he’s upright and standing in front of you, your arms swing over his neck to pull him down so you can latch your lips along the column of his neck. 

“my girl is so needy tonight,” he says, leaning over the sink where you’re sitting and allowing you to mark up his neck to your heart's desire. 

“wan’ you, ‘toru.” you whine, now circling your legs around his waist as an attempt to pull him even closer. 

“let's get you cleaned up first and then we can continue,” gojo says softly, internally restraining himself.

“but you’re hard, can’t we jus’ do it now? really fast?” you whined, tears starting to fill your eyes because of your desperation. 

“no, we can’t. I wanna take my time with you tonight. I was patient waiting for you to come home, so be a good girl and do the same for me, ‘kay?” he says while guiding you into the shower. 

once inside the warm and steaming shower, your only goal was to get out of there as soon as possible. gojo, on the other hand, had different plans. the moment his hands were on your body, you could feel yourself melting into his touch. His movements were slow and sensual. He was lathering the bubbles across your body, pausing just a second longer on your erogenous zones, which included your nipples, thighs, and pussy. He loved watching you squirm under his touch with your eyes squeezed shut trying to savor the feeling. 

“you’re so mean ‘toru,” you say, biting your lower lip once his hands were off you. 

“just a little longer, pretty,” he says with a smirk across his lips.

once both of you were all cleaned up, he carried you out of the bathroom and you were flushed, not just from the bathroom warmth, but the excitement of what was to come.

“satoru, I feel better now, I can walk on my own,” you say, attempting to get to your feet but to no avail. he softly sets you down on the mattress. the two of you were scantily covered by a towel and before you knew it, gojo had removed it off both of your bodies in a second. 

his kisses travel down to your neck, nipples, navel and right before he gets down to your wet cunt, he looks up at you. your eyes were glazed over without a single thought behind them and your mouth slightly open, panting. that sight turns him on even more as he laps up your folds with his tongue. 

this causes your hips to buckle and start grinding on his tongue for more friction. he then sucks on your clit, causing you to almost see stars. right before you had a chance to cum, he gives your pussy one last kiss before pulling away, causing you your eyes to pop open from the lack of touch. 

“I waited all night for you, can I get my reward too, pretty?” gojo says with his legs spread open and resting on his shins, gripping the base of his cock. now that you had a proper look at him, you could see just how much he needed you. his face was flushed pink and his cock was rock hard, looking like it would burst at any second. you immediately get on your knees and wrap your hands around it, giving it a few strokes as he leans back and rests on the palms of his hands. 

still gripping his cock, you tease his tip with your tongue by swirling it in circles. this causes gojo to fling his head back and pant heavily. loving this reaction, you begin to slowly take more of him into your mouth, inch by inch. 

“just a little more,” he says with one hand on the nape of your neck to guide you down his length. you bob your head up and down, making sure to open up your throat to take all of him in. Tears push past your eyes because of how big he is but you love every single inch of it. you suck on him hard and tight like a vice, throat perfectly molding to the shape of his dick and tongue swirling against the underside of it. you continue this until you can feel him almost cumming and you go even faster. 

“b-baby, stop, ‘m gonna cum,” gojo says, his hands are now on either side of your head pushing you off his member. he was able to get you off right before he was sent over the edge. 

“so slutty tonight, trying to get me to cum before I’m in you,” he says, guiding you to your back. 

“jus’ wanna make you feel good, ‘toru,” you say, obediently laying down. 

“I wanna cum inside this pussy. can I, baby?” he says, looking directly into your eyes. he rubs his tip along your sopping folds before tapping it a few times against your clit, pleasure coursing up your body. 

“y-yes, it’s your pussy, you can do whatever,” you say, waiting for him to ravish you.

gojo presses his tip against your entrance and notices you get up on your elbows to watch it slide in. “does my pretty girl like watching it go in?” he teases. “yes, I want you to ruin me, ‘toru,” you say in between breaths.

he gives you a few shallow thrusts with just the tip until you couldn’t take it anymore and begin attempting to fuck yourself on his fat cock. he loves how quickly you get cock-drunk on him. using his hands to pin down your hips, he thrusts his member deep inside with no warning, causing you to roll your head back in pleasure. he begins thrusting at an ungodly speed, your head making contact with your headboard before he reaches up a hand to buffer the impact. 

“‘toru, wait, s-slow down” you yelp, hands pressed up against his abs, attempting to slow his movements. 

“I thought my princess wanted this?” gojo said, not letting up on his speed. he moves his hand from your hip and presses it firmly on your lower abdomen, causing you to moan uncontrollably as the tip of his cock abuses your g-spot. 

“i’m g-gonna cum,” you yell, breathing heavily.

“I’m close too, cum on this cock, pretty. it’s all yours,” he says, thrusting until you cum first. 

when you’re finally sent over the edge, you can feel your pussy convulsing around his dick, causing him to pour his load inside. he slowly removes his cock from your twitching cunt, a trail of thick cum oozes out. He uses his thumb to push it back inside.

“be a good girl and keep it inside. ‘m gonna fuck this tummy full of cum,” gojo says, stroking your clit, further overstimulating you. this goes on all night, round after round. The two of you fuck like you haven’t seen eachother in years instead of just a few hours. 

the two of you are taking a few minutes to come down from your last high when then you climb on top of him. “baby, can we go for just one more? i’ll top this time,” you say, grinding your sticky, cum filled pussy against his growing hard-on. gojo knew he would spoil you rotten for as long as he lived. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a big smirk painted on his face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: writing smut is SO difficult 😭 putting my horny brain to work is easy but having to type it out coherently is so hard.

thanks for reading!

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝘼𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚°ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

synopsis: being a cam couple w/ aventurine

tags: vulgar, explicit, exhibitionism, creampie, nipple play, handjob

wrd cnt: 1.5k

a/n: rewrite from first acc!

Your boyfriend Aventurune is well, tight on money, all the time... but! This leaves room for a lot or creative ways for him to obtain income, somehow he always makes it work, this time he's eager to involve you as well.

You're just sitting on the couch one night, finishing up some work while waiting for your love to come back home.

You hear the keys in the front door jingle, "Y/n? I have a surprise for you honey!" you hear, curiously you walk over to the kitchen table where he has two sparkly bags waiting for you.

"What's this?" You ask, happy to open them up and take a look inside.

Aventurine takes out your presents, and well...your jaw drops at the sight of the softest material, silky and lace lingerie in a dark red hue, with ribbons at the chest and bottom.

"What do you think?", he says, a smirk on his face as he hands you the garment.

You thank him excitedly, before he pulls out a matching collar and vibrator, along with his and hers masquerade masks. "Aven...you really want to get lucky tonight huh- how did you afford all this?”

He chuckles, "About that, before I tell you, this gift is for you with no strings, but.."

"But?"

"I wanted to ask a favor from you."

You were a little scared, as you thought your boyfriend wanted to prostitute you for a minute, he sits you down and explains his new job idea: being a cam couple.

At first you're shocked at what he just asked you, not exactly opposed. He explains in more depth how everything would work, and said you both didn't have to reveal your faces, as viewers aren't necessarily very interested in that; hence the masks.

You agree, as there doesn't seem to be many downsides.

That night, you make arrangements and get everything situated. You go to the bathroom and change, meeting him in your bedroom, missing his shirt. He turns around in his chair and his eyes meet yours, he watches you get closer to him as his lips create the most sinful smile.

He whistles, "Oh my…aren’t you absolutely stunning." Your cheeks get red, you've never worn something so risqué and your stomach is full of butterflies as the reality of this situation hits you.

Aventurine signals you to him, placing you on his thigh, and drapping your legs over the armrests of the desk chair.

"Everything is ready baby, are you sure this is what you want? We can stop at any time, just say the word okay?" He reassures you, giving you the say to click the "go live" button.

You both put your masks on and click the button together.

Almost instantly, there's already a couple viewers.

Aven and you laugh, surprised just a little. His hands begins to move up and down your legs, opening them up and sitting you down in between him, with each leg raised up on the arm rest. You feel so bare, your legs open and spread in front of the camera as your back is against his warm chest.

"Look how pretty you are, y/n". He whispers in your ears, before reaching for the vibrator on the desk. He turns it onto the lower setting and slowly rubs it through the silk protecting your most sensitive area. You cup his face with your hand, tilting his head behind you down to meet his lips, and then his tongue. His other hand holds your neck, slightly squeezing it and toying witn your collar. Slowly, it trails down to your breast, his fingers pull at the ribbon and pull it. The top of your lingerie falls instantly and your tits are exposed as he squeezes them, rubbing and pinching your nipples as his tongue trials down to your neck as you quietly moan.

Only about 5 minutes pass, and you hear a ring from the screen, *Anonymous sent $10*

He opens his eyes to see the screen, not stopping his assault on your neck, only turning the vibrator up, causing your legs to twitch slightly as his hands are now on your waist, feeling your skin against his palm.

His fingers finds the silk that's keeping a barrier between you and the vibrator. He pulls the other ribbon, and opens it up as your legs are wide open front of the camera, hiding nothing.

His fingers open your folds, "Welcome audience, look at how pretty my loves pussy is, isn't she just so beautiful?” Aven says proudly, pushing his fingers inside your sopping cunt and focusing the vibrator onto your clit.

You moan quite loudly, and cover your mouth with your hand. Itto then says to you, and to the camera, "Don't do that, let them hear how fucking good you feel."

He turns the vibrator up to its highest setting, watching you squirm so intensely, as you clench around his fingers, hitting your sweet spot.

The tips keep rolling in, as people express their thoughts in the comments. Most of them very vulgar of course, which turned you on even more.

"Look at that baby, they love you." He says, while you weakly grip his hand which holds the vibrator against you, moaning for him breathlessly before you releast all over his fingers.

"Just like that sweetheart, cum for me." Your breathing slowly calms down as your head is now resting on his shoulder. Your boyfriend removes the toy from your sore clit, and his fingers pull out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking your cum off, before kissing you.

When he asks you if you'd like to continue, your hand lands on his hard cock, rubbing it through his pants.

"Yes please" You say, wanting more of him.

Almost 300 people were viewing the live, and it felt so hot to show people how good your lover made you feel.

Aventurine smiles, gripping your neck and making you kiss him while he raised you up slightly off his lap by your waist, as you unbuckled his belt, he sat you back down as he pulled his pants down, his cook springing up and lightly hitting your folds.

As you got more comfortable, you rub your palm on your own wet pussy, then taking his cock in your hand and stroking it, slapping it on you a few times and rubbing his tip on your swollen clit.

Aventurine is quite a vocal lover, and he definitely didn't hold back for the camera. Groaning as you play with yourself and his hard member. He breathes heavily against your back as his hands twist your hard nipples, and grip your thighs that are again propped up on the sides of the chair.

"Fuck baby, I need you, please, ride me." He pleaded, his grip on your thighs getting harder as his cock yearns for your little cunt.

"Should I?" You ask, almost catching him off guard to the fact people were watching you, as he got distracted by how turned on he was.

"How about $50 and I take all of him? Hm?" You say, offering to whoever may be willing.

He only smiles at you, a sort of proud feeling hits him as he laughs at how you're making money off his yearning.

Not even 20 seconds after, you see:

*Anonymous sent $100"

"Wow, seems like you better give me the night of my life, y/n." He smirks, pushing his cock inside you before you get the chance.

A sultry and intense moan escapes your lips, his cock feels so big inside your pussy, you almost see stars. One of his hands hold yours while the other is on your knee. You balance yourself with a hand on his thigh, and start to bounce yourself up and down his dick, as the audience watch you struggle to take his length yet taking it entirely, down to the base.

"Fuck...baby- feels so good..." You can barely hold yourself up, his cock making you so weak.

Your boyfriend watches the large screen, staring at how your pussy swallows him, "You take me so well c’mon, you can do it-show them what a good girl you are." He coos, seeing your slick cover his entire cock, feeling your cunt wrap around him.

You're both moaning messes, and you can feel yourself coming so close to release. So is Aventurine, as he takes both his hands and holds your waist,

"Come here, let me show everyone how sexy you sound when I cum inside you, princess."

Your face is burning hot, and you feel like you're going to burst any second.

Aventurine slams you down on his throbbing cock, pushing himself up as well. Shortly after; you feel thick cum bursting inside you, as Aven groans in shaking breathes, his hands clenching the bottom of your thighs.

You look at the sight on the computer screen, Yours and his cum, mixed up in your cunt spilling out of you; dripping down your hole and onto his balls, then the seat you're both on. Your legs slowly release from his grip, as he pulls your collar to make you face him, as his tongue meets yours in a soft and sweet last kiss.

"Well everyone, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did." Aventurine says, before turning off the stream.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[undercoverpena]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

[thoseboysinblue]

Lucky #7

Mason Mount x reader

You unexpectedly bump into Mason in Manchester after moving back home from London.

Word Count: 5900+

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This was based on a dream I had. Thanks to @neverinadream as always for helping me flesh things out. Feedback always appreciated.

"Come on, Beck," you plead with your younger brother to hurry so that you can get him dropped off where he needs to be for training, "you're going to be late."

"I'm not," he rolls his eyes at you as he trails along behind you. He throws a haphazard "bye" over his shoulder as he enters the locker room to finish getting ready for training.

"Bye then," you sigh as you turn around realizing you've gotten yourself a little lost at the Carrington training grounds. You clutch onto the forms your parents asked you to drop off as you search through your messages for the name of the person you were supposed to leave them with.

"Finally," you say quietly to yourself once you find it, bumping into someone as soon as you look up.

"Y/N?" Mason chuckles as he realizes who just nearly ran him over.

"Mase, hey, sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," you shake your head at him.

"It's no problem, what are you doing here? You ok? You seem a bit frazzled," he looks at you warmly, giving you a grin that shows off his perfectly placed dimples, his brown eyes dancing playfully.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just taking care of my brother while my parents are out of town and need to turn some things into one of the administrators. I think I'm a little lost, though," you sigh as you look around.

"Maybe I can help," he smiles, glancing at the time before ushering you towards the administrative suite.

"That's sweet of you, but I'm sure you've got somewhere else to be," you offer him a smile.

"Nah, I'm good," he shrugs at you.

"I didn't realize you had a brother playing for the academy. Are you just here while your parents are out of town?" he makes small talk as he guides you through the hallways.

"Yeah, he plays for the under 13s and I moved back from London last week actually, it's a long story though," you shake your head.

"I've got time," he grins as he nudges you playfully with his elbow.

"Well, I took a new job working with the city's development department. I thought I had an apartment lined up but that fell through so now I'm living with my parents until I can figure something else out."

"That wasn't that long of a story," he chuckles, "and actually, I almost forgot you were from here."

You roll your eyes playfully at him, "well, I almost forgot you live here now," you grin.

"That hurts," he grins at you. "Here we are," he stops in front of a set of glass doors and tilts his head towards them.

"Thank you," you smile up at him as he nods before moving out of the way.

"Hey, Mase?"

"Yeah?" he turns back to face you.

"Glad to see you back out there," you grin at him.

"I'm glad to be back," he rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "Will I be seeing you around then?" he looks at you, his eyes full of hope.

"Yeah, I guess you will," you smile softly at him.

"It's good to see you," he says as he pulls you into a brief hug.

"It's good to see you too. But go, I know you've got somewhere else to be, I'll be fine now," you shove him away as he lets out a hearty laugh.

You met Mason a few years ago after becoming friends with Ben Chilwell's younger sister. She had introduced you to several of his Chelsea teammates while you were living in London and while you would occasionally swap likes on social media or chat briefly through story replies, you considered most of them friendly acquaintances more than actual friends.

You bump into Mason a couple more times over the next few days of shuttling your brother to and from training.

One afternoon as you are watching him play in an academy match against another academy team you notice several of the first team players coming over to give their support. A couple of them make their way to the sideline, while a few others take seats among the small crowd of family members. Mason glances around, a smile flashing across his face as he spots you and comes over to sit next to you.

"How are you?" he grins as he offers you one of the two hot chocolates he's holding.

"I'm good, thanks for this," you smile as you take a sip.

"No problem, thought you might be out here, and it's gotten chilly again," he says as he bumps his knee against yours and hands you the hoodie he had draped over his arm.

"I'm good Mase, you can wear it," you grin at him. "I'm a northern girl, the cold and drizzle don't bother me as much as I'm sure they bother you."

"Ok there, Elsa," he chuckles as he runs his fingers over the goosebumps that have formed on your arms, "I know you can be stubborn, but you don't have to be cold. And I've got on two layers as it is."

You shake your head in defeat, handing him your drink as you pull the hoodie over your head, thanking him again when you are instantly warmer.

"Elsa huh?" you grin at him.

"I take my uncle duties very seriously. I'm a whiz at all things princess related," he smiles as he hands your hot chocolate back to you.

"I bet you are," you chuckle.

"Which one's your brother?" he says as he turns his attention back towards the match.

"Number 7," you point towards him as he makes a perfect pass to one of the attacking players.

"'That's a good number," he chuckles as he applauds the barely off target shot taken.

"Well his name is Beck, short for Beckham, so..." you trail off, "my dad's a massive supporter of the club," you shrug.

You continue making small talk as you watch the rest of the match, Mason never failing to keep you entertained. The unintentional and glancing touches shared between you becoming more and more intentional as you spend more time together.

When your brother scores the match winning goal in the final seconds the two of you jump to your feet, cheering loudly before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug, lifting you off the ground.

Once he steadies you back on your feet, the two of you exchange a shy smile while his hand settles over your hip and he gives you a slight squeeze.

You follow him down to the sideline as he chats with some of the other first team guys while you all wait for the academy players to come over.

Your brother makes his way over to you and you quickly hug him and congratulate him on his goal and the win before he spots the first team players and moves on to talk to them.

Mason gives him a fist bump and congratulates him as well before your brother asks if he can get a picture with him.

"Tell you what, I'll take a picture with you, if you'll sign that jersey and give it to me," he nods.

"Really, you want my jersey?" your brother is genuinely surprised by his request.

"Yeah mate, I think it will be worth something someday," he smiles at him. Your heart can't help but flutter at their interaction.

"Y/N, will you take picture of us?" Mason smiles over at you.

"Wait, you know my sister?" he asks out of confusion.

"Yeah, we were friends in London" they both turn to smile at you for the picture.

You take their picture and the two of them chat for a few more minutes, Mason introducing him to the other guys before reminding him he wanted his jersey.

Once Beck leaves to go get his things, Mason turns his attention back to you.

"Will you send me that picture?" he asks.

"Sure," you nod before opening your phone and handing it to him.

"If I scroll through these pics will I find something naughty?" he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"No," you blush slightly as you smack him playfully on the arm.

"I keep those in a hidden folder, protected by facial recognition," you chuckle at him.

"That's a shame," he grins as he passes your phone back to you having sent the photo to himself.

He walks the two of you to your car, telling you to drive safely and wishing you a good night before you leave.

Once you are home and settled into bed you notice a message from an unknown number, but when you open it you see the previously sent picture of your brother and Mason.

Unknown: had fun hanging out earlier. x Y/N: If you wanted my number you could've just asked. Didn't have to be sneaky by sending yourself a picture. xx Mase: 😎 Mase: Also took a quick selfie you can save as my contact pic xx Y/N: You're actually ridiculous. You know that right? x Mase: Me? Ridiculous? Never 🤭 Y/N: Thanks for what you did with Beck earlier. He didn't shut up about it the whole way home. x Mase: it's nothing, I remember being an academy kid and hanging on every word from those first team guys. Y/N: Well, it honestly made his day. He's already set that pic as his background on his phone 🙃 Mase: I wanted to ask earlier, but I lost my nerve.... Y/N: You? Shy? Am i hallucinating? x Mase: Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow? Y/N: oh. Mase: I'll take that as a no? Y/N: no Mase: now I want to crawl under a rock Y/N: Mase, no, that's not what I meant. Mase: oh? Y/N: I can't go to dinner because I have Beck still. But you could join us for dinner if you want to. Mase: Oh 😅 that sounds good. Y/N: Not used to rejection huh? Mase: Shut it. I was bricking it. Y/N: is 7 good? Mase: 7 is perfect 😉 Y/N: I'm gonna let that slide x Mase: It's a date then xx Mase: Shit. not a date date. Mase: is it a date? Mase: Fuck me, I'm losing it over here Y/N: You ok there? Mase: I don't think so 😅 Y/N: Mase, I'll see you at 7. For dinner. With my brother. For our not a date date 😉 Mase: Kill me now please Y/N: Nah, I think I'll let you suffer a little more. x Mase: Good night, y/n. I'll see you tomorrow. xx Y/N: Night, Mase. Sweet dreams xx

The next day Mason spots you as you are picking Beck up from training and jogs over to speak to the two of you briefly.

"So, I'll see you around 7 then?" he asks flashing a shy smile towards you when you nod.

"I'll send you the address," you grin at him, your cheeks slightly flushed.

Once you're settled in the car and on the way home, your brother begins questioning you.

"Mason is coming to our house?"

"Yes," you nod, "for dinner."

"Mason Mount is coming to eat dinner at our house?" he looks at you dumbfounded.

"Yes, Beck," you chuckle, "we're friends remember?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were like friends friends with him. You never even told us you knew him," you can actually see the wheels turning in his brain.

"I told you I knew some of the Chelsea guys through Alex," you say as you continue driving.

"Well, yeah, but not like, come over to our house to eat dinner friends," he still keeps pushing.

"Beck, it's not a big deal, but I need you to be respectful of his privacy and don't go blabbing around that he's coming over, ok?" you speak sternly, suddenly feeling the need to protect Mason.

"I won't. But I can hang out with you right?" He gives you his best puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, of course," you grin at him.

Once you're home you check to make sure you have everything you need for dinner and you realize you forgot to pick up some bread.

Y/N: I hate to do this, but is there any chance you could stop to grab some bread on your way here? Mase: Sure. Anything in particular? Y/N: Not really, just meant to grab some French bread or something like that to toast up. Oh and I'm out of beer if you want any. Mase: Got it. See you soon xx Y/N: See you soon xx

Butterflies flutter in your chest at the fact that he seems genuinely excited to be coming over.

You head to your room and change into something a little nicer, brushing through your hair and placing a few loose curls before lightly touching up your makeup and spritzing on your favorite perfume.

You want to look nice, but not too over the top since you're just staying in for dinner.

You make your way to the kitchen and start pulling out everything you'll need and begin prepping a few things, turning on some soft music to drown out the silence.

A few minutes before seven, Mason rings the doorbell and Beck bounds down the stairs and eagerly opens the door.

"Hey," Mason smiles at you as he follows Beck into the kitchen. He sits a bag down on the counter, pulling out the bread you'd asked for, along with some beer and a bottle of wine, and a small bouquet of flowers.

"For you," he holds the flowers out towards you, a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks.

"Thank you, Mason," you smile, also blushing slightly as you take them from him and grab a vase to put them in.

Your brother chats with Mason for a few minutes before leaving to go play video games until dinner is ready.

"What can I help with?" Mason asks as he slides his hand around your waist and gives you a light squeeze.

"Hmmm, chopping or stirring?" you grin up at him.

"I'll take over chopping," he smiles as he slides his hand over yours, taking the knife from you.

You dump the veggies you've already chopped into a pan to start sautéing them before you start slicing the bread he brought and placing it on a tray to go into the oven.

You hear Mason take in a sharp breath and drop the knife one counter. Just as you look over to check on him you he pulls his finger to his mouth.

"Did you cut yourself?" you knit your eyebrows in concern as he nods in response.

"Let me see it," you pull his hand away from his face so that you can get a good look at it.

"It's not too bad," you whisper as you wrap a towel over it and grab a bandage and ointment.

You clean the small cut and bandage it up for him as he watches you carefully.

"There, good as new," you place a kiss over the bandage without thinking. The slight brush of your lips on Mason's skin sending both of your minds racing.

"Thank you," he says, barely above a whisper as you look up to be met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes and a faint smile dancing on his lips.

You watch as his eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, his tongue running along his bottom lip as his hand comes up to graze your jaw. He leans in barely as if he's considering kissing you until you both hear Beck coming back down the stairs causing you to take a step back and Mason to drop his hand away from you.

"How much longer until dinner?" Beck asks, not even realizing he just interrupted an almost kiss.

"Um, twenty minutes," you glance up at him before glancing towards Mason and noticing the faint smile still playing on his features.

He really is gorgeous, you think to yourself before shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Satisfied with your answer Beck returns upstairs, once again leaving you and Mason alone.

"I'll finish these," you say quietly as you pick the knife up and finish chopping vegetables while Mason takes over stirring.

You continue chatting while you finish dinner, Mason bumping his hip against yours and finding subtle ways to touch you the whole time.

While you are waiting the last few minutes for the chicken you placed in the oven to finish he grabs your hand and twirls you around, both of you laughing as you dance playfully.

During dinner, your brother peppers Mason with questions about football and training and getting into the first team. You smile over at him as he continues answering question after question graciously.

You and Mason clean up the kitchen while Beck takes a shower. You grab some sweets you'd bought earlier and settle onto the couch to watch a movie. You sit next to him but leave a respectable amount of distance between you. Unhappy with how far you are from him Mason pulls your legs over his lap and inches a bit closer to you.

Every now and then it seems like he's considering kissing you, but he never musters up the courage, settling for absentmindedly drawing shapes over your legs.

Beck joins you again about midway through the movie, knitting his eyebrows at how close you and Mason seem to be sitting.

You get up to go to the kitchen to grab some more popcorn and drinks. As you are returning to the living room, you overhear you brother questioning Mason.

"Do you like my sister?" he asks.

"Well, yeah, we're friends, I like hanging out with her," Mason answers quietly.

"No, do you like like her?" Beck keeps pushing.

"Oh, well, um" Mason starts, "I mean yeah, we've known each other for a bit, I guess, I don't know her super well, but I'd like to change that," he blushes slightly.

Your brother eyes him up and gives him a stern look, "don't hurt her or I'll have to step up my brotherly duties."

"Got it, mate," he chuckles quietly.

You walk back in trying not grin about the conversation you just heard, taking your seat next to Mason.

He throws his arm over the back of the couch, not necessarily around you, but giving you a little more space to lean into him a bit, your side barely grazing against his as you offer him some popcorn.

You watch tv a bit longer before Beck heads up to bed leaving you and Mason alone again but not before saying "remember what we talked about."

"What was that about?" a flicker of a smile dances over your lips as you look at a seemingly nervous Mason.

"Just doing what I would've done with my sisters," he chuckles.

"Oh," you arch your eyebrows at him before letting out a giggle and a yawn.

"It's getting late, I should probably head out," Mason says barely above a whisper as he drops his hand over your shoulder and traces a few circles with his thumb.

"Ok," you whisper back, leaning into him a bit more.

You walk him to the front door and join him just outside.

"Thank you for dinner," he flashes a smile at you.

"No problem, glad you could join us," you grin as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Goodnight, y/n" he whispers sending a shiver down your spine.

"Goodnight, Mase," you breathe out.

He turns to leave and makes his way down the few steps.

"Hey, Mason," you say, before thinking.

"Yeah," he turns around to face you.

"Beck is leaving around lunch tomorrow for a few away games, I have to drop him off at the training ground," you say nervously, "I'll um, I'll have the house to myself a couple of days if you want to hang out again."

"I'd like that," he grins, "a lot actually."

"Ok then" you smile back at him.

"Ok," he closes the distance between you, kissing you again on the cheek, "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," you push up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The next day you are standing with Beck and a few of his teammates as they wait to load onto the bus when Mason wanders over.

"Hey guys, good luck over the next few days, I know you will do well," he gives them a few fist bumps and takes a few pictures with them.

"Y/N," he turns his attention to you, "Could you give me a ride home? I rode over with Licha but he's staying for a while longer," he trails off.

"Sure, Mason," you smile at him.

After checking in with your brother for a final time to make sure he has everything he needs, you and Mason make your way over to your car.

"Hope that was convincing enough," he chuckles as he opens your car door.

You glance over to see your brother and his friends watching the two of you before they get onto the bus.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure," you giggle back as he sits in your passenger seat.

You chat as you make the drive to your house, every now and then glancing over to find Mason staring at you.

"What?" you let out a quiet laugh.

"Nothing," he blushes. "Do you remember when we first met?" he asks somewhat out of the blue.

"Um, yeah, I think it was Ben's birthday a few years ago," you shrug.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he nods, "why didn't you ever seem to want to hang out with any of us?" he knits his eyebrows.

"Oh, well, it wasn't that I didn't like hanging out with you, it's more that I was focused on school. And while Alex was used to hanging around footballers, I was a bit more intimidated by it all," you look over to him as you stop for a traffic light. "Besides you seemed to have plenty of other entertainment so I didn't figure I would be missed."

He nods again, his expression softening. "And what about now, still not sure about hanging out with footballers?

"I kind of prefer to think of you as a friend of a friend rather than Mason Mount, the footballer," you blush slightly, "hope that's ok?"

"Yeah, I think I prefer that too," he smiles, "but surely I'm not just a friend of a friend."

"Are you not?" you glance over at him, a flicker of a smile on your lips.

"No, we've sent each other messages, you've cooked me dinner, I'd say we can count each other as proper friends at this point," he winks at you.

"And for the record, I did miss you when you weren't around, I've always liked talking to you, even if it was only briefly," he nods towards the light that has turned green.

You focus your attention back on the road as he turns on some music.

You both hum along for the remainder of the drive sharing brief glances at one another.

Once you've made it to your house, Mason hops out and opens the door for you and follows you up to the front door. His hand settles gently over the small of your back as you unlock the door.

You stop once inside the door and both of you kick your shoes off, Mason immediately pulling you into a hug and burying his face into your hair.

"I've been wanting to do that since I saw you earlier," he grins shyly at you when you lean back slightly.

"So what do you want to do?" he asks quietly, his thumbs drawing circles over your hips.

"Are you hungry?" you study his face, noticing the slight freckles you've never quite noticed before.

"Always," he chuckles.

"I was thinking I would make a sandwich, would you like one?" you smile up at him as he continues running his fingers along your sides.

"I would love one," he grins.

You move to the kitchen, Mason following closely behind you as you pull out a few things to make a sandwich for the two of you.

"So I have some unpacking I need to do, living out of boxes is driving me mad," you roll your eyes, "would you mind hanging out with me while I do that, I know it doesn't sound thrilling but..."you trail off.

"Sounds perfect," he smiles, reaching over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

After you've eaten, Mason follows you up to your room. He glances around, taking in the various things you have hanging on the walls, studying a few of the pictures as well, including one of you and him alongside Ben and Alex after a Chelsea match.

"You've been United fan for a while then?" he says as he studies a picture of you as a young girl.

"Yeah, my dad is a supporter of the club, he was close with some of the higher ups when I was younger," you grin at the picture he's studying of you with David Beckham and your dad.

"That was his last match for United," you smile, remembering the day fondly, "I've still got that jersey."

"I was at that match, too," he smiles sitting the picture back on your desk, "you sure you don't have the wrong number 7 in your room?" he chuckles.

You shake your head, "David is far too old for me," you grin.

"David is it?" he arches an eyebrow.

"Yes, he and my dad were actually pretty good friends, he's practically like an uncle to me," you laugh quietly.

"Well that's a relief" he grins.

"I've never had a guy in here before," you look around nervously.

"Really?" he knits his eyebrows.

"Yep, my parents had a strict no boys upstairs rule when I lived here. But I guess once you've lived on your own for a while those rules kind of go out the window," you shrug.

"Well I'm honored, maybe I'm the lucky #7" he smirks. He plops down on the bed, making himself comfortable as you turn on football and drop the remote beside him.

Mason watches football while the two of you chat and you work on unpacking some of your things.

"How long do you think you'll live here?" he asks.

"I'm hoping not too long, just need to find another apartment that hopefully won't fall through at the last minute," you smile at him.

"I don't mind helping you look for a place," he smiles.

"No offense, Mase, but we don't exactly have the same budget," you giggle.

"Doesn't mean I can't help you find something though," he shrugs, "just let me know and I can make some calls, ok?"

"Ok" you nod.

As you finish unpacking what you'll need to get by until you can move into your own place you notice Mason has gone quiet. You glance over to see that he's dozed off.

You smile to yourself, admiring the peaceful look on his face while he sleeps. Quietly, you tiptoe over to the bed and pull a blanket over him. Before you can turn to move away from the bed he grabs your wrist and tugs you onto the bed with him, sitting up slightly and pulling you so that you are straddling him.

You gasp at the suddenness of his movements before settling your hands over his shoulders and then around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

He smirks as he settles his hands over your hips, "I've been wondering when I would get some attention."

"I'm sorry I've neglected you," you giggle.

His eyes continue burning into yours and you find yourself staring at him completely mesmerized.

He glances from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again, shifting slightly closer to you.

"You should do it," you whisper.

"Do what?" he arches an eyebrow at you.

"What you're thinking about doing," you study him intently, nervously biting your bottom lip.

He flashes a smile at you before digging his fingers into your sides tickling you.

You let out a squeal of laughter as he continues and flips the two of you over so that he is hovering over you, your fingertips gripping his shoulders.

He brushes your hair out of your face, tracing your jawline with his fingers.

"I really like your smile," he breathes out quietly causing you to blush slightly and a smile to creep over your features.

"Yeah, that one," he smiles back at you, licking his lips lightly before brushing them delicately against yours.

When you react by kissing him back, he sighs softly against your lips.

He kisses you slowly and gently, until you're both smiling against one another's lips.

"You're right, I had been thinking about doing that," he blushes when you nod in agreement.

You pull him in for another kiss, a bit more heat behind it as he runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, moaning quietly when you part them for him and allow him to dip his tongue into your mouth.

The way he kisses you is needy and desperate yet somehow slow and patient like he's savoring every single second of it.

When you break apart naturally, both of you are out of breath as he rests his forehead against yours and you take each other in.

He moves to lay down next to you and you turn on your side to face him while his fingers still trace your jawline and down your neck to your collarbone.

"You're good at that," you whisper quietly.

He bites his lower lip to hide his smile, "yeah?"

You nod in agreement, "you're very good with your tongue," you say before blushing when you realize how that sounds.

He arches an eyebrow, trying to hide a chuckle.

"I mean..." you trail off and close your eyes, clearly flustered, "not like that, I didn't mean it like that," you blush even harder.

He leans over and kisses you again, chuckling quietly as you slip your fingers into his hair and deepen the kiss.

"You're good with your tongue too," he pinches your side lightly as you shake your head.

"Mase," you whisper quietly as he studies your features, realizing just how pretty you are, "what is this?" you ask biting your lip.

He looks at you and blinks a couple of times.

"I'm not trying to have a 'what are we' conversation after a couple of kisses, I'm not silly enough to think this makes me your girlfriend or anything..." you start to ramble. "I just like to be honest and want to make sure we're on the same page here, are you just lonely and needing some affection? I'm not really the friends with benefits type, and if you want to see other people that's fine, I just need to kind of know, what just happened so that I'm not blindsided by anything."

He places a finger over your lips quietening your rambling thoughts before pressing his lips to yours again gently.

"I'm not expecting friends with benefits, y/n, and honestly I wasn't expecting this, but I'm not just lonely and looking for attention or anything. And I'm not seeing anyone else," he reassures you.

"I um, I'd like to just kind of see where things go if you're ok with it. I always wished when we were in London that I could get to know you better but for one reason or another we never really had that opportunity, but we do now." He smiles softly at you.

"Ok," you whisper, "but just be honest with me no matter what. If you're not feeling it then tell me, and if you want to see someone else, just give me a heads up so I don't find out elsewhere, please."

"Yeah, I can do that," he smiles before kissing you again knowing he has no intention of looking for anyone else.

"Tell me something," he says quietly.

"Anything," you whisper back.

"You and Christian seemed to always gravitate towards one another, anything ever happen there?" he asks, "it wouldn't make much difference now, Ben and I just always wondered, and he doesn't kiss and tell," he rolls his eyes playfully.

You let out a small laugh, "Christian and I are both introverts, we'd end up together when we were tired of people-ing, mostly we could just stand there in silence and no one would bother us if we were standing there together. And no, nothing ever happened there, when we did talk, it was usually about you and taking bets on the parade of girls trying to get your attention," you grin.

"Is that so?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Mmm-hmmm, we had your type nailed down to an artform," you nod.

"And what is that exactly?" he quizzes you.

"Someone outgoing, but quieter than you," you giggle, "and more of the naturally pretty type, a little curvy, but natural curves," you shrug, "how'd we do?"

He rolls his eyes, "you introverts just sit around figuring people out huh?" He laughs.

"Am I going to overwhelm you with my extroverted-ness?" he asks earnestly.

"No, not at all, it's good for me, forces me outside of my own head," you grin.

"That's good," he smiles, "I am serious about wanting to see where this goes between us, if you can overlook me being a footballer," he winks.

"Yeah, I guess I can try to overlook that one tiny thing," you grin.

The two of you continue talking and cuddling as you turn on a movie and order pizza to be delivered.

After you've eaten, you settle back in the bed and turn on another movie.

"It's late, do you want me to call for a car to take me home so that you don't have to drive me?" he asks kissing the top of your head as you snuggle against his chest.

"Did you leave an overnight bag in my car earlier?" you turn to look up at him.

"I have my training bag, with some extra clothes and kit for tomorrow," he yawns.

"Then, I think you should go get it," you smile before kissing his chest.

"You're really going to break all your parents rules aren't you?" he chuckles.

"Not all of them," you wink.

You take the opportunity to change into pajamas while he's gone to get his bag. He joins you in the bathroom while you're brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.

As you settle into bed, he takes off his shirt and joggers, leaving him in just his boxers before climbing back into the bed and sliding under the covers.

You can't help but stare at him as he does, admiring his impeccably toned body.

"I might take that back about that one rule," you giggle when he raises his eyebrows.

"As much as I would love to defile you in your childhood bedroom, I'm gonna save that for another night," he grins before pulling you in for a kiss.

"Night, y/n," he whispers against your lips.

"Night, Mase," you sigh as he pulls you against his chest.

@neverinadream @chilwellspulisic @pulisicsgirl @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @xjval

[bravevulnerability]

I’m not sure if you still take prompts but tbh, I don’t even care, can you write anything you want? Doesn’t have to be long! Just craving some good caskett 😭

A/N: I was either reading a book or watching a tv show, I can't recall, but the simple words of "I'll leave early" got stuck in my brain and shot this idea into my head. Set during 4x19, ‘47 Seconds’, initially before any confessions unknowingly occur on the other side of an interrogation room window. 

-

The knock on the door startles him, has him jerking out of his chair and bumping his hip on the edge of the desk. 

Castle curses under his breath, winces, but carries on into the living room, to the front door. 

It’s late, after midnight, and he hasn’t been able to calm his mind. All he can think about is the victims of the bombing, their loss of life, of opportunity, and how it has selfishly caused him to reflect on those areas of his own life. On Kate. 

He’s going to tell her tomorrow. He has to. What if - god forbid - the world were to end for him the way it did for all of those people today, and it would do so without Kate Beckett knowing he loved her? What if the time they had was so much shorter than they could imagine? What if-

Castle feels the color drain from his face, all of the bravado leaving him, as he swings the door open.

“Beckett,” he greets softly, self-consciously smoothing down the tortured strands of hair that have flown this way and that from the restless push of his fingers. 

She’s in his hallway with her hair falling in those gentle waves around her shoulders, her face devoid of makeup and an NYPD sweatshirt engulfing her slim frame. Kate offers him a weak twitch of her mouth.

“Hey, Castle.” Her voice is soft but gruff, as if it hasn’t been used in hours. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” he assures her, stepping back and gesturing for her to come in. Her eyes flicker around the darkened space, as if ensuring his daughter isn’t at the counter, or his mother on the couch. “I was up, trying to write, but after today… I just couldn’t get out of my head.”

The door clicks quietly behind them and he steps up to her side, catches the haunted glimpse of her eyes gravitating back to him. The warm glow of his office beckons them forward, offering privacy and familiarity. She's never said as much, but he thinks she favors his office, the comforting walls of books and the sofa she often curls up on when she stays late to theorize over cases or plot points for his novels.

“Yeah.” She nods, twisting her fingers together in front of her as she follows him inside. He eases the office door closed. Just in case. The last thing he needs is Alexis's scrutinizing gaze peering in. His daughter means well, he knows, but on the topic of Kate, he hopes to maintain some distance. “I know the feeling.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he tries, sensing there is more to her visit than she is letting on. 

“No,” she admits. “I just - it’s this case. I kept seeing their faces, the crime scene, the senselessness of it. I keep thinking of the victims’ loved ones, what it’s going to do to them.” 

Castle tilts his head, understanding but still curious. Her eyes fall to her feet, the worn toes of her sneakers peeking out from her jeans. 

“It’s selfish, but it - it made me think of what my shooting did to the people I care about, that I love.” She purses her lips and exhales a breath that quivers. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you. Well, beyond the first time I saw you again after your book signing in the fall,” she murmurs, tentatively lifting her gaze to meet his. “For what I put you through.”

“Kate,” he huffs, but she catches the hand he tries to use to wave her off. He stares down at the slim curl of her fingers around his, the kiss of her thumb to the heart of his palm. “You didn’t put me through anything, you were shot. Besides, I’m one of the lucky ones. You’re here.”

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes harden, a fierce hazel, emboldened. “The summer, and… this. The missed opportunities and lost time. The waiting.”

His brow hitches, surprise rippling through his senses. Sure, they’ve talked around his unspoken vow to wait for her, their conversations always edging on everything shy of committing to one another without saying any actual truths. He’s not used to blatant honesty between them.

His hand relaxes within the grasp of hers, their loosely knotted fingers dangling in the space between them.

“I just - I know it’s not necessarily what you signed up for-”

“Beckett, it’s exactly what I signed up for,” he chuckles, tugging gently on their hands and drawing her a step closer. She has to lift her eyes to him without her heels, her vulnerability alive and shimmering in her gaze just a few inches below. “From the first day we met, I signed up for you.”

“We were different then,” she huffs, shaking her head, but he squeezes her hand.

“Yeah, but maybe we’ve been changing for the better.” He shrugs, watching a sliver of hope slice through her pupils. “Maybe the last four years were necessary, to prove we were capable of growing together. Seems worth waiting for to me.”

Kate’s lips quirk, white teeth appearing to contain the smile. 

“You always know how to say something reassuring,” she sighs, but her eyes are dancing with light for him. 

“Plus, you’re only the hottest detective in existence, so I’d be stupid to give up so easily-”

She smacks him with her free hand, her laughter quiet and mingling with his. He catches the other hand at his chest, coats her knuckles with his palm, and feels hers come to a cool rest over his heart. Kate’s laugh gentles into a sigh, her body swaying towards his, and then she’s releasing the hand that was holding his. Her arm snakes around his waist instead, her embrace tentative.

Rick's arms automatically wind around her, the movement as natural as breathing. He feels the sink of her body into his, the exhale of tension against his collarbone as she tucks her forehead against his neck. 

“I love you, Kate,” he whispers, feeling the terror and exhilaration commingling within his chest as the words escape. He expects her to tense, to draw away, but she remains against him. Still, unspeaking, and possibly not breathing, but in his arms with her fingers curled into the t-shirt at his back. “I don’t need you to be ready to say it back, but I don’t want you to forget, to doubt. I’m here.”

Her arm tightens around him, her fingers curling at his chest, as if she could hold fast to the heart beneath her hand. They remain like that for a long moment and he takes the time to appreciate the shape of her in his arms, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, and her nuzzled cheek against his clavicle.

"I don't want you to doubt either," she murmurs, the heat of her breath rushing over the flesh of his throat.

Kate gingerly lifts her head, dark lashes rising and eyes finding his. Her hand splays at the small of back, her fingertips brushing his spine. He swallows hard, begging his heart to steady before she feels the gallop of it between their bodies.

"You're not alone in this, Rick." A tender smile graces her lips, encouraging yet shy. Her eyes fall to his mouth, linger for a moment too long before fluttering back to his gaze. "And I don't think the wait is for much longer."

"N-no?" He clears his throat, watches her smile grow, and he can't help it. He touches a hand to her jaw, unfurling fingers along her cheek, and watches in amazement as she leans into the cup of his palm.

"No," she confirms, covering the back of his hand with one of hers, holding it there as she turns her head and brushes a kiss to his palm that sends a jolt of electricity up his arm.

"Kate," he sighs, giving into the compromise of pressing his forehead to hers.

"Sorry," she mumbles, abandoning his hand to dust her fingers to his chin. He feels the tips of her fingers trail along his jaw, his eyes fluttering closed as her thumb skims his cheek. "I think I should go."

"It's late," he argues, eyes flickering open to find hers watching closely, bottom lip pinned beneath her teeth again. "Just stay. The guest room-"

"Castle, Alexis and your mom-"

"Something tells me Alexis won't even notice since she leaves for classes at the crack of dawn and my mother won't be up until the clock is flashing double digits."

She's considering it, he can tell.

"Stay," he murmurs, forcing himself to draw back and stealing the hand from his face.

"Castle," she huffs when he begins to drag her towards his bedroom.

"Here," he tells her, letting her go to dig through his dresser, retrieving a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "These should be comfortable, but you're welcome to raid my closet and drawers for other options if-"

She swipes the clothes from him and glowers as she brushes past, heading for his bathroom.

He nervously rearranges his pillows while he waits for her, trying not to pay attention to the sound of running water or the click of the doorknob.

She still looks uncertain when she drops her clothes in the chair beside his bed, her sweater landing on top of his robe, making him stupidly delighted.

"Come on," he says, climbing onto his side of the bed and cutting the lamp lights. He feels the darkness will seal the deal, allow her the courage to crawl under the covers to innocently lie beside him.

He doesn't know when they decided on his room instead of the guest room, but she makes no move to leave now.

He looks anywhere but at her while he slides his legs beneath the comforter, the sheets, and settles onto his back. But his body, his senses, are attuned to her, and he can hear the quiet rustling of her doing the same. When he risks a glance, he can make out the dark mass of her body curled beneath the blankets a few inches away.

"I'll leave early," she breathes into the shadows between them, as if making a promise to them both.

"Kate."

A moment of silence passes and then the mattress is shifting, her body warm and lithe and nestling beside him. He eases his arm around her, feels the welcome weight of her head on his shoulder, the contented sigh of her breath against his neck.

"I'll leave early," she repeats, adamant but soft.

"Go to sleep, Kate," he whispers, resting his cheek against her hair and feeling the restlessness of her quieting.

Her arms curl between them, her cold hands against his ribs, her knees against his thighs. He drifts to sleep savoring the points of contact.

-

When he wakes, Kate is gone. Later, he finds that the shirt he lent her the night before is as well.

-

The next night, when he receives a late knock on his door, he's aware of who will be on the other side and he opens it with anger roiling through his insides.

"You stormed out before I had the chance to explain," she begins immediately, coming into his loft as if she were a storm herself. "I know why you're upset with me, but-"

"Kate, I really think you've said enough today," he cuts her off, keeping his voice low.

It's late, hours since he knows her shift ended. He knows she planned this purposely to avoid his family, to corner him while he was alone.

"What I said to Bobby-"

"Yeah, I already heard it once. I'll pass on a second time," he mutters, locking his front door and leaving her in the entryway.

"Rick." But she follows, of course, chasing him with soft steps to the sanctuary of his office. "It was an interrogation tactic. You're just assuming I was being honest with a suspect," she hisses, easing the office door shut behind her.

Castle crosses his arms and leans back against his desk.

"Fine," he concedes, bitterly. He already knows the answer to his next question, he feels it in his gut, his bones. The horrible truth he's always known. "Do you remember every second of that day? Of being shot?"

Her throat ripples with a swallow, but she exhales steadily, steels herself before she says a word.

"Yes," she confesses, holding his gaze. "I've always remembered."

"Every. Second," he clarifies. Not a question.

Her lips part, the bottom one threatening to quiver ever so slightly. She squares her jaw to stop it.

"Every second," she confirms, her fingers in fists at her sides. "I remember you tackling me, trying to stop the blood, to - to save me."

He casts his eyes away from her, not wanting to remember it, not wanting to recall the feeling of hot blood on his hands, the wide surprise of her eyes, the panicked sound of her gasping for breath beneath him.

"I remember you telling me you love me," she whispers, the words soft but measured. "That was the last thing."

"All this time," he manages, blinking away the horror of those images. "You lied."

"I know," she whispers, exhaling a shaking breath into the silence between them. "I didn't - I didn't know how to face it then. How to be - how to be what I wanted to be for myself, for you. I just... god, Castle. I panicked and if I hadn't been in therapy for the last few months, I'd probably still be lying to you."

He spares a look at her then, the crescents of purple beneath her eyes, the glimmer of moisture making them sparkle in the darkness of the room.

"When I woke up in that hospital room, I didn't feel like a person anymore. The only purpose I've ever felt I had was solving my mother's murder and after the shooting, I didn't think I could survive making room for anything else," she attempts to explain, but he can hear the hitch threatening her throat, the choked sound of her trying not to cry. "I didn't feel worth much else."

Argument bubbles unbidden on his tongue at that, but she speaks first.

"I - I wanted you," she declares, meeting his eyes with a desperation he's never seen in hers. Not for him. "But I didn't feel like I could give what you deserve. I needed to be better first, to heal, to make the room. To acknowledge how important you are to me."

The unshed tears spill over, creating rivulets down her cheeks.

"I love you," she says, but her voice has changed, strengthening with resolve. "I love you, but I wasn't going to screw it up, so I was trying to put in the work. To be more."

Castle doesn't stop her when she takes a step toward him, another.

"I'm sorry." She doesn't touch him, but stands before him, palms up and bare, as if begging. "I should have gone about it all differently, but I - god, I never wanted to hurt you, Rick."

Without thinking, he touches the tear stains on her cheeks, brushing them away with his thumb.

"You don't have to forgive me tonight," she adds softly, staring up at him with tired eyes. "You can stay angry for a while. Just don't - don't give up on me yet."

Shit, she was breaking his heart, siphoning all his resolve.

His fingers slide into her hair, cradling the back of her skull.

"I would never." Her eyes flutter in what looks like relief. "I get it, I do. I just..."

"Hate it," she mumbles, the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

He shrugs. "I wish we could have done it a little differently, yeah. But I'm not going to hold it against you, Kate, I just need time to process it all."

She nods, her lips pursing resolutely. "Of course."

Her head turns toward the door, but he snags her fingers. She looks to him in askance.

"Will you stay?"

She hesitates. "What about time and space?"

"I didn't say anything about space."

She is not nearly as anxious to crawl into bed with him this time, her body settling beside him without preamble and her arms twining around his torso.

"We're okay, Kate," he promises her, burying the words in her hair as her nose touches his throat and one of her ankles hooks around his.

He rubs her back, tracing the line of her spine through another one of his t-shirts. Eventually, the taut arrangement of bones begins to relax beneath his ministrations and her breathing evens out, her body slack in his arms.

He tries to sleep, but despite all she said, all that has happened over the course of the last few hours, he can't tear his thoughts away from the fact that she loves him. And she said it out loud.

-

Most of the following nights are spent with her appearing on his doorstep or his on hers, the hour often late, but her smile is always worth it. The first time she opened her door to him, after a night of being dressed up for a stint with Colin Hunt - he hated that guy - she was beaming.

"I thought you'd be at home brooding," she'd chuckled, locking the door behind him, pleasing him with her intent to keep him there. "I was about to come to you."

"No, I couldn't wait that long," he admitted, hanging his coat on one of the empty hooks. "I was kinda hoping you'd still be in that dress."

Kate had huffed a laugh, already dressed down in one of the t-shirts she had stolen from him. He had yet to call her out on it because he didn't want to give her a reason to stop.

"Don't worry, Castle," she teased, lifting her hand to his cheek. "I'll save it for another time."

His brow arced at that. "That statement is heavy with implication."

"It was intended to be," she grinned, sauntering to her bedroom.

He had to bring up the case to keep himself occupied after that, but the way she looked at him every time he insulted Mr. Scotland Yard almost made it worse.

Oh yeah, Kate Beckett definitely wanted him. But until she made the next move, he would wait. He wasn't taking any risk of moving too fast when it came to her. Not when he knew this time would be for keeps.

-

The evening they solve the zombie case, she vows to appear at his loft, teasing him that he'll never get that makeup off without her help. He has a laser tag game planned with Alexis that turns into the icing on the cake of his day, with his daughter announcing she will be attending Columbia for college.

Most of his makeup has been scrubbed off, the costume gone, when Kate knocks on the front door.

Alexis glances up from washing the dishes, her brow furrowed. "Were we expecting anyone this late?"

"Just Kate." He tries for nonchalance, but Alexis eyes him with both intrigue and wariness as he starts for the door.

When Castle opens it, she's on the other side as promised. She's changed from her leather jacket and jeans to a soft sweater and yoga pants, looking warm and inviting at his doorstep.

"Oh look, you did a pretty good job," she chuckles, reaching for his nearly cleansed cheek, stroking the bone there.

"I don't know if you'll have better luck," he admits. "Prosthetics and stage makeup leave quite the mark."

"Well," she grins, tapping the bag on her arm. "I brought an extra strength cleanser, so we'll give it a shot."

The water from the kitchen sink is still running, catching her attention. Alexis's presence is likely visible from the doorway, the clinking of dishes going into the dishwasher pointedly loud. He feels nervous but hopeful as he watches Kate determine what to do next.

She lowers her hand from his cheek and bites her bottom lip. "Am I too early?"

"No, not at all." He extends his hand for hers and she slips her fingers into the cove of his, allowing him to guide her inside.

-

"I think she hates me a little less," Kate murmurs, her eyes following the work of the cotton pad she swipes along his skin.

She and Alexis spoke briefly before his daughter went up to bed. Kate had lingered before following him to his en suite bathroom, watching the stairs his daughter had disappeared up with worry lining her face.

"She never hated you," he grunts, wincing when she has to scrub at a spot on his forehead with a little too much vigor. She's been wiping makeup from his skin for the last twenty minutes, standing in front of him while he perched on the edge of his bathtub in his pajamas. "She was upset with me."

"And she's a protective daughter. Trust me, I get it," she assures him gently. Her thumb skims the curve of his eyebrow and he opens his eyes to find her studying him. "I think I should go home tonight, Rick."

He eases his hands onto her hips, watching her brow arch in response.

"I don't want to rush things with Alexis," she elaborates, tossing the cotton pad into the trash and reaching for a clean hand towel.

She dries his face with tender brushes.

"She is unaware you've stayed here at all," he reasons. "I doubt tonight would be any different. Besides, it's late."

"Castle, it's ten," she chuckles, but she hasn't shoved his hands from the resting place of her hipbones. "There's no reason for me to stay."

"No?" He rises slowly from the edge of the tub, holding her gaze the entire time. "What if I need you?"

Her nostrils flare ever so subtly, a tell he's picked up on. She's struggling to ignore him.

"Cuddling is part of our healing journey, Beckett."

She rolls her eyes and shoves on his chest, but doesn't fight the tug of his hand on her arm, the offering of his clothes, his bed.

-

Castle's eyes flutter open. It's barely light out and it's early, he can tell that much upon waking. But something has woken him, the featherlight dance of a touch to his cheek.

As his vision focuses, he sees Kate lying beside him, her fingers migrating from his face to comb through his hair.

He hums and shifts closer to her, burrowing into the warmth of her body.

Her arms wrap around his neck while his band around her spine. Their legs are tangled and her lips are moving against his ear.

"I gotta go," she whispers, turning her head to graze a kiss to his temple.

He sighs and loosens his grip on her, allows her to untangle their limbs.

"See you in a few hours?" she murmurs, one of her hands still reluctant to leave him, draped along his jaw.

"Of course," he yawns, gazing up at her from his pillow.

She bites her bottom lip for a second before leaning forward, lingering there before tilting her head, dusting her mouth to his. Instantly, his senses come alive under the electricity of her lips.

Castle's arms stall in their retreat from her body, reclaiming their hold on her again.

A smile blooms on her mouth before she's kissing him with more confidence, fitting the curve of her lips to his. He hums in response, kisses her back, and feels her body canting into his.

"Mm, Beckett, you make it hard to let you go," he grumbles, feeling more than hearing the rumble of her laughter.

She stains another kiss to his mouth, mumbling a last farewell against the corner of his mouth before regretfully pulling her body from the bed.

-

The storm batters against his windows, lightning illuminating his office as he deletes the murder board on his screen, Kate's face disappearing with the tap of his fingers.

They fought last night in her apartment, his love for her used like a bargaining chip for her life, and it wasn't enough.

He's done. He loves her with a fierce strength and softness, in ways he's never loved anyone else, but he can't watch her throw her life away.

It'll just hurt more.

No, he would rather try and gain as much distance as he can before he gets the call that Kate has become the latest to fall victim to the Dragon's wrath.

The knocking on his door begins with vigor.

He pauses, unsure. His first thought is that it must be Kate and the last thing he wants is another argument. But, it could also be Alexis. He turned his phone off after the third consistent ring with Kate's number flashing across the screen. What if his daughter needed him?

Shit.

He curses himself for his ignorance, vowing to turn the phone back on as soon as he checks the door.

Rick composes his expression, ensuring he doesn't look as hassled as he feels, not wanting to alarm his daughter on her special night if it is her.

He unlocks the door, tugs it open, and feels all of that hard work immediately fall, frown returning instantly at the sight of Kate Beckett.

She's soaked to the skin, dripping rain all over the carpeted hall of the building and the entryway to his loft.

"Beckett," he sighs, his fingers already clenching around the door's edge. "What do you want?"

"You," she whispers, breaching the slim space the door allows and reaching for him.

His body betrays him, moving too slowly to block the ascent of her hands to his face, the rise of her body into his, the adamant press of her mouth.

"You had that," he grunts into her kiss before prying her hands from his cheeks. But he doesn't let her go, he can't. So he holds her captured wrists to his chest, studies the desperate features lining her face, the trembling form of her body. "What happened?"

"He got away," she rasps, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And I didn't care."

Traitorous hope seeps through the cracks of his heart.

"I almost died and all I could think about was you," she breathes, her head shaking as her gaze roams his face, taking him in as if seeing for the first time. Seeing him clearly. "I'm so sorry, Castle. You were right and I'm - I'm sorry."

Her wrists rotate in his loosened grasp, fingers climbing to bridge at the back of his neck. Her toes arch, lifting her body to meet his, allowing her lips to ghost over his.

"I love you." The words sound sacred falling from her mouth onto his. "I'm sorry I didn't treat you like it."

He suffers only a split moment of indecision - he loves her back, he always will, even though she scares the shit out of him.

Castle layers his mouth over hers, swallows the moan she exhales at the bruise of his kiss, the surge of his body using hers to shut the door. Kate cradles his head in her hands as he kisses her, the tenderness of all the nights before, of the last kiss she graced him with, gone in favor of the brutal fall of his mouth upon hers, the needful crush of his bones into hers.

She doesn't seem to mind, every scrape of his teeth, press of his palm, and grip of his fingers being returned with fervor.

His hands tangle in her hair, wet and dripping down his bare forearms, tilting her face upwards. She gasps when his tongue slides past her parted lips, swiping along hers and exploring the cove of her mouth like he's always wanted to. They've kissed like this before, frenzied and frantic in a darkened parking lot under the ruse of saving Ryan and Esposito, but there was still an ounce of restraint alive then. She had a boyfriend and he was desperate to show her how good they could be together, but they were allowed so little time, so much uncertainty.

Not tonight.

Her head drops back against the door as he skates lips and teeth along her jaw, down her neck. Her arms are clinging to him, her hips clashing with his, as if she can't keep him close enough.

He slows, though, when he reaches the bared flesh of her chest, the scarred skin between her breasts. His thumb skims the spot with reverence, his lips dust there next, feeling her shudder beneath him.

She whimpers as he travels his mouth up her skin, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue slicking along the rain coated flesh of her exposed shoulder, her throat.

"Rick," she breathes, the fingers of one hand fisting in his hair, the other slipping between them to yank at the buttons of his shirt.

Castle slides his hands down her sides, her hips, and curls them around her thighs. She's ready when he lifts her, using her toes to hop into his arms.

He chuckles as her arms wrap around his neck and she flips her hair to one side, angling her head to kiss him again.

"Eager, Beckett?" he smirks into her mouth, digging his fingers into her ass as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yes," she admits without hesitation, letting him go for a split second to shrug the sopping leather jacket from her shoulders.

It hits the floor with a wet slap, but he can't be bothered to care. She smiles into the next kiss she lays upon his mouth, her happiness tasting like champagne bubbles on his tongue.

"You really love cuddling with me, huh?"

She laughs, tightening her thighs around his waist as they start for his bedroom.

"I plan to do more than cuddle with you tonight, Castle." Her thumb traces the bone of his cheek. "Think you can handle it?"

Her eyes are sparkling, gold flashing excitement rippling through her irises.

Castle kicks the door of his office shut with his foot and carries her into the bedroom.

"The real question is, can you? If you're planning to be up with the sun-"

"No," she cuts him off, kissing him quickly before he can lower them to the bed. He bends to lay her across the mattress, the bracket of her thighs drawing down him into the cradle of her hips. "I don't plan to leave early."

"Oh?" he muses, brushing back the damp strands of hair from her cheeks.

Her fingers thread through his hair, trickle down his neck, and trail along his spine, sending a shiver through him. Her eyes wander across his face, as if studying every feature, lips settling into a soft smile.

"I want to stay," she whispers, like it's a secret.

"Then please," he murmurs, resting his forehead to hers for a moment, breathing into the thin space between them. "Stay."

[purple-obsidian]

miscommunication (18+, dick grayson x titan reader) wc 2.7-3.1k

⭓ this post contains suggestive themes and is not suitable for minors. reader uses she/her pronouns.

"Shit." You curse under your breath when you see your last two messages failed to send. There's just no signal down here. You sigh, and pocket your phone, mind wandering and trying to predict what mission Dick is taking you on tomorrow night. He usually tells you when its time for full stealth, so you decide you'll show up in civilian clothes. He wants to meet earlier in the evening anyways, so you guess it may be something undercover or staking someone out. You let your mind wander for a bit, before returning your focus to work, watching two men in overalls argue in front of the buildings water heater.

The next day, Dick shows up to your apartment right on time. He pulls up in his electric blue sportscar, sticking out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. You can't help but grin when you see his car through your living room window. Checking yourself out in your bathroom mirror one last time, you make sure your concealed weapons and headpiece aren't visible, before grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet from your backpack. A sudden knock on the door to your apartment causes your eyebrow raises in suspicion, and you slip your shoes on before answering.

"Dick?" You greet the blue-eyed man standing in your doorway, surprised to see a bouquet of gorgeous white roses in his hands. His hair is styled neatly, and he's clean-shaven, too.

"Hey." He flashes you an excited smile taking in your outfit. "You look great." He comments, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he looks you up and down, taking in your casual attire.

"Thanks… You didn't have to come up here and get me, though. I was on my way down. Am I under-dressed?" You ask him, noting the button-up shirt and freshly pressed pants he's wearing.

"No, not at all." He extends his arm, presenting you with the roses. "These are for you."

"Oh." Your eyes narrow in confusion, glancing between the roses and his expectant grin. "Thanks… I'm assuming I'll need these later?"

Dick clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his shirt. "Well… I mean… need is a strong word," he replies, chuckling awkwardly, "But you can leave them here, if you like. To enjoy when we get back."

Him saying 'when we get back' makes you think there must be some follow up or additional work to do after you complete your objective.

You grin, and take the flowers from him. "So, does that mean we're pulling an all-nighter?" You turn your back to him and walk towards your kitchen to get a vase for the roses. You just miss the bright pink flush that creeps into Dicks cheeks.

"Uhm… I mean, I didn't want to assume anything, here, but if that's where the evening takes us…” He scratches the back of his neck, and follows to join you in your small but tidy kitchen.

He finds you at your sink, filling a tall jar with water. "Yeah, I got nothing going on tomorrow. We can go all night if we need. I've been in the mood for some action, anyways." You explain casually.

His face grows even more red, suddenly feeling very warm in the shirt he chose to wear. "L-let's just get through dinner first."

---------------//---------------

Your eyes scan the fancy restaurant, taking in the scene, noting all the exits, eyeing the people occupying the tables around you. There's a quiet hum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses that fills your ears. You don't notice anything out of the ordinary, but you stay diligent, slightly annoyed that Dick hasn't told you why you're here yet.

A couple to the left of us. Man and woman. Mid-thirties, wedding bands, the woman is on her phone, barely paying attention to her date. We have another couple on our right, two men, could be 50's or 60's, hard to tell. Nice watches. Ordered the salmon…

Dick pokes at his pasta with his fork, a small frown on his lips. He's been acting weird since you got here. But he didn't give you any briefing, which makes you think he must be waiting for someone. He said you would enjoy what he had planned, maybe taking down an old enemy of yours? You wrack your brain, trying to remember the last villain who wronged you.

Dick says your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Hm? Yeah?" You ask, looking up at him blankly.

"Are you okay? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

The waiter passes by your table, refilling your wine glasses with a polite nod.

"Thanks." You tell him with a brief smile. Your attention returns to Dick, who's blue eyes are trained on your own. "I'm fine, Dick. Honestly? I'm just a little confused about what we're trying to accomplish here. What's our objective?"

"The objective," he sighs, and takes a sip of his wine. "The objective is to enjoy ourselves. Spend quality time together."

You barely hear the words he's saying, thinking instead of how he's already on his second glass of wine. He isn't even fake sipping, like you are. This isn't like him. Dick never drinks while he works, unless he's undercover. But even then he will limit himself, never wanting a mission to go bad because he was inebriated.

"Uh, Dick? Shouldn't we cap if off at one?" You ask, nodding to the glass in his hand. "We need you sharp, don't we?"

His eye's widen a little as he sets his glass down. You find it hard to place the emotions playing across his face. He almost looks offended.

"Sharp… right." He sighs, grabbing his napkin and wiping his mouth, shaking his head a little in disbelief. "You know what? You're something else. I really wanted this to be a chance for us to get better acquainted outside of work. I wanted to get to know you better." He waves down the waiter again, signaling that he's ready for the check. "But it's clear to me now why you even agreed to this."

Now it's your turn to go wide-eyed. "Outside of work? Dick, what are you-"

"I honestly thought you were different. I thought we had chemistry. Real chemistry. Maybe I was wrong. Seems like you're only interested in making sure I can perform later, is that it? An all nighter? You can't even humor me, and enjoy a nice meal together first? You've barely said a word, and you haven't even touched your food."

Realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

Dumb. You are so fucking dumb. This isn't work, this is a date. A real date. No wonder he's dressed so nice. He brought you flowers. Fuck, how could I be so dense?!

"I… Dick, when you texted me yesterday, I thought-"

"Save it." He grumbles, rubbing his temples and avoiding eye contact. "Let’s just get this food to go and forget this ever happened."

You sit up straighter in your seat, and reach across the small table for his hand. "Please, let me explain?"

He looks down at your hand, then narrows his eyes at you. "You're going to tell me I'm wrong?" He challenges.

You aren't used to this. His glare sends chills down your spine. You don't often find yourself at the receiving end of Dick Grayson's anger, but its unsettling every time.

"Y-yes. You're wrong." You curse yourself for stuttering, but your heart is racing now, nervous about how badly this miscommunication could affect your relationship. Your eyes plead with his while your hand rummages around for your phone in your jacket pocket. "I think I misunderstood your texts. Just let me pull them up real quick."

The waiter returns too soon, check in hand. Dick waste's no time laying down a few crisp bills before angrily standing up. "No need. You thought this was just a hookup. I get it. Never mind about getting it to-go. Why don't you stay here, enjoy the rest of your meal alone." He throws down another large bill, slamming it down with his fist right in front of you. "You can take a cab home."

"No! Dick, please!" You stand from your chair, cloth napkin falling to the floor, watching him stalk past you towards the exit of the restaurant, anxiety filling your stomach with dread.

► let him leave.

► follow him.

don’t steal my work. don’t repost it somewhere, upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

[fikefries]

wheels of fate (m.s) part one

part one: shadows in the dark

warnings: implied almost assault, swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: when you find yourself in the face of danger, an unexpected character comes to your rescue.

1.1k words

you sit on your dorm bed, staring blankly at the incomplete essay on the laptop in front of you. today was not your day. partying the day before your thesis was due was not the best idea. the words blur together as your mind wanders, boredom gnawing at you, and an immense craving for salt-and-vinegar chips bubbling in your stomach. you look across your room to your tiny electric clock sitting on your desk, its blue hue slightly lighting up the darkness of your dorm.

1:37 AM,

you sigh, shutting your laptop with a small thud, rubbing your tired eyes, and pull yourself out of bed. you left out a soft groan at the state of your room, mini skirts, tube tops, and empty bottles of tequila sprawled out on the floor. the room feels stifling, and your hunger is rising. you need to get out, even if just for a little while.

grabbing your phone and hoodie, you decide to make a quick trip to the 24/7 convenience store down the street. it isn’t far, and the walk will do you good. you slip out of your dorm quietly, tip-toeing down the hall—not wanting to wake your roommates.

the cool night air is a nice change as you walk through the campus gates and onto the empty night streets. the city has a different feel at night—quieter and more solemn. you stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to shake off the unease that creeps up your spine. you know that walking down a dark street in the middle of the night isn’t the safest thing to do for a girl like you—but hey, what are the odds something happens the one night you decide to go out?

as you reach the convenience store, you notice a small group of tall men huddled around the energy drink section. they are dressed in black t-shirts, black jackets, and have on fingerless gloves. you realise that most of them are holding motorcycle helmets, automatically assuming they are night bikers. the area you live in is notoriously famous for its biking culture—one that results in many police chases and gunshots. knowing this, you keep a safe distance away from the group of men, but one seems to catch your attention. a boy who looks around your age is holding a motorcycle helmet and has multiple piercings adorning his ear. you can’t help but stare at his sharp features and siren eyes, the way he looks with his jaw clenched, a toothpick resting in his mouth as he stands patiently, waiting for the rest of the guys to sort out their choice of drink. you don’t even realize you are staring so intensely until he starts looking around the small store, before his eyes catch yours.

shit.

you quickly avert your gaze and pretend to inspect the different flavors of chips. your embarrassment doesn’t falter, as you feel his sharp gaze burning into the back of your head. you turn to quickly grab a few snacks and head to the counter.

"just these, please," you say, trying to act normal and confident, not wanting to garner more attention from the possibly dangerous bikers.

the cashier barely glances at you, engrossed in his phone.

“have a good night,” he mumbles as you pay and leave the store.

you begin your walk back to your dorm, nervously munching on a bag of chips you bought. you decide to take a different route, hoping to enjoy the quiet streets a bit longer, distracting yourself from the awkward encounter you just had. your thoughts wander, and you find yourself lost in your own world, not noticing the ominous figure that has started following you.

“hey you,” a gruff voice breaks through your thoughts, making you jump in fear. you turn to see an old, ragged man approaching you, his eyes gleaming with something sinister, a creepy smile etched onto his face, revealing his crooked teeth. “what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here alone, hm?”

your heart races, and you quicken your pace, turning around occasionally to see if you lost him, but the man keeps following you, his grunts growing louder as he catches up to you. you begin randomly taking different paths and alleyways in hope of losing the man. you've heard stories of what has happened to other girls on campus before and you know how dangerous the situation you are in is.

god, i should've just stayed home.

you glance around at your surroundings, slowing down your pace, realizing you have run into a more isolated and unknown part of town, and are now at a dead end, with nowhere to run to as the creepy man catches up and starts walking towards you.

“leave me alone,” you manage to shout, your voice trembling in utter fear and desperation.

“come on, don’t be like that,” the man sneers with a wicked smile, closing the distance between you.

before he is able to touch you, the sudden loud roar of a motorcycle engine echoes down the street, zooming towards your direction. the old man halts his actions, his expression shifting from predatory to wary and he slightly backs away from you. a sleek black bike skids to a halt in front of you, and the rider jumps off with an air of cold confidence.

the rider removes his helmet, revealing the boy from the convenience store with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to see right through you, his hair messy from being underneath the helmet.

how is he here? did he follow me? did he hear me screaming?

he barely glances at you before fixing his gaze on the old man.

“get lost,” he says flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, his blue eyes glaring coldly at the man.

the old man hesitates, clearly intimidated by the biker’s presence. “hey, boy, i don’t want any trouble,” he mutters, fully backing away from you, as you let out a sigh of relief.

“you already found it. leave before you actually fucking piss me off,” the biker replies, his tone cold and unwavering.

the old, creepy man shoots one last menacing glare at you before turning and disappearing into the night, knowing not to mess with a night biker—especially in this part of town. the biker turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice and eyes still stoic and devoid of warmth.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah, thanks. i—”

“be careful” he interrupts, already turning back to his bike.

“wait” you nervously call out, hesitantly taking a step forward. “what’s your name—i mean thanks for saving me, i don’t—” you stutter.

he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “matt,” he says simply, putting his helmet back on and revving the engine of his bike before heading off into the night.

tags: @isasturns @sofieeeeex @scqrletsmadness

a/n: im thinking this will be a 10 or more part series! let me know if you have any ideas!

[aswefindourwayback]

Body Better

Author's Note: This is based off the song 'Body Better' by Maisie Peters. I hope y'all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated <3

wc: 2161

Warnings: cheating, choking i think? use of word 'daddy', p in v sex, unprotected sex, i believe that's all :)

This prick.

He really thinks he can get away with that? 

He really thinks that he can get away with cheating on me?

The audacity of this man. 

He’s not going to get away with it so easily. 

I won’t let him. 

-=+=-

“He was fucking her.”

“No.” Emily had practically gasped down the phone, “for how long?”

“Probably around a month.”

“A month?!” 

“Yeah, can you believe him? I give him all of myself, 100%.”

“Babe, dump his ass. For the streets.” your friend exclaimed. 

“Oh don’t worry, I will. But there’s something I have to do first.”

“Oh please don’t tell me you’re go-”

You suddenly hear the front door creaking open, signaling that Spencer had arrived home.

“Call you later, bye.”

You watch as Spencer enters the living room of his house. He’s clad in his everyday attire, some black slacks, a white button down and his favorite cardigan. His hair was a mess from the windy weather outside. But he still looked as gorgeous as ever. 

“Hey baby” he’d said as he walked towards you to pull you into a kiss. 

“Hey” 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“What are you on about?”

“You’re being weird. Like I did something wrong.” he’d laughed and pulled his cardigan off, throwing it onto a nearby chair. 

“I don’t know, is there something that I should be upset about?” you’d said as you lightly pushed him into the couch.

“Uh, no.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah”

You’d moved to place your knees on either side of him, straddling him. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders you’d said “Well, alright then.”

You kissed him softly at first, just to see how he’d react. And of course, he pulled you into a deeper, rougher kiss. You let him, for now. 

As the kiss grew more intense, you began to run your hands down from his shoulders to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. While you unbuttoned his shirt, you began to kiss down to his jaw then his neck. He’s moaning as you leave bruise marks on the side of his neck. Once you finished unbuttoning his shirt, you went back to sticking your tongue down his throat as you ran your hands down his toned torso, straight down to the waistband of his pants. You palmed his growing erection, causing him to moan into the kiss. You pressed down a bit harder and you knew that he was wrapped around your finger when he was whimpering and writhing under you. 

“Baby?” you’d asked through the kiss. 

“Yeah.” 

“Is her body better than mine?”

He quickly stopped and pulled away from the kiss to look at you. 

“What?” he’d asked you. 

“You heard me, does she have a body better than mine?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You couldn’t believe it. He was actually going to try and lie to you? To your face? 

“You know what I’m talking about.” You give his swollen lips a quick kiss, smiling devilishly as you pull away. . 

Fake confusion is still all over his face.

“Baby, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Instead of keeping this back and forth going, you decided to get him as fucked up as you could before you pressed for more information. 

“Alright” was all you’d said. 

Not only were you growing frustrated with the fact that he was trying to play dumb, but you were also horny as fuck. 

You went back to sloppily kissing him and unbuttoned his pants, but you could tell he was still hesitant. But he’s just a guy so very quickly, he got back into the moment, placing his hands on your hips. You slowly and teasingly began to unzip his pants. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders again and started to roll your hips over his erection. After the first roll of your hips, Spencer quickly grabbed your ads in his hands, giving them a nice squeeze as he let out a deep groan, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes to the back of his head. 

You grinded against him at a slow pace, as you did, you weaved your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back so you could lick his jaw, making him let out a moan he’d been trying to suppress. His fingers began to dig into your hips. You could tell he was growing frustrated with the fact that you weren’t giving him more. 

“Baby please” he’d whined, “move faster.”

So you did just that, rocking your hips faster over his hard cock, focusing on your own pleasure. You could feel him between your folds, the wetness between your legs kept growing. 

You felt electricity trail up your spine with each roll of your hips. You kept grinding against him, chasing the high you so desperately want. Your jaw drops open as you throw your head back, Spencer takes this chance to grab the back of your neck and kiss the side of it, trying his best to mark you as his. You’re moaning and grinding your hips against him faster and harder. You’re getting close but soon, he begins to whimper, holding your hips down harder. 

You stop what you’re doing, causing Spencer’s eyes to shoot open at the loss of friction. You can feel your pleasure dissipating as the seconds go by, but it will all be worth it in the end. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

“You wanna tell me now?” You’d asked as you began to pull the waistband of his underwear down, slowly pulling the head of his cock out, causing him to gasp as the cool air touched his cock, which was already leaking, leaving a small wet patch on his underwear. 

“Tell you what?” 

“Has she got a better body than mine?”

His breathing becomes shallow as you spit on his hardened cock and begin to stroke him teasingly. 

He tries to reply but it’s hard when you’re squeezing him.

“She- who are you t-talking ab-bout?”

“You know exactly who and what I’m talking about baby, just tell me.” You begin to stroke him faster with one hand, gently massaging his balls with the other. 

“Oh sh-shit, no, no she doesn’t have a- FUCK a better body than yours.” he’s writhing and groaning, just like you had wanted. 

“Good answer. Are you gonna be a good boy now and behave? Answer all my questions?”

You stop stroking him and grab his chin, making him look you in the eye. 

“Y-yes, I’ll be a good boy. I’m a good boy.” he says breathlessly. 

“Good, now tell me this. When you touched her, were you sorry?”

“Yes baby, I was being stupid, I wasn’t thinking. You’re better, the best. Nothing compares to you.” 

You take a hold of his face again and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he moans. Spencer plays with the bottom of your shirt, asking if he can take it off you, you quickly break the kiss to help him take off your shirt then go back to sucking face. You bite his bottom lip and pull slightly, causing him to whine and shutter. You let go of his lip and lick it to soothe the pain before going back to sticking your tongue down his throat. 

Spencer begins to lift the bottom of your skirt up, causing your skirt to bunch around your waist. You lift your hips a little to help him remove your underwear. As soon as they’re off, Spencer throws them off to the side. You reach for his dripping cock and align him with yourself. But before you sink down, you grab his face with your free hand and say “Tell me again, were you sorry when you were touching her?”

“Yes, I promise, I promise. I regret everything with her.” his eyes began to water. “Please, I'm so sorry.”

“Okay, if you’re sorry.” you say as you finally sink down on him, both of you moaning at the feeling. 

You’re throbbing around him, but the throbbing between your legs only grows stronger as you stay still a top Spencer. 

You look at his face, his eyes are watery, hair a mess, lips swollen and face flushed. Boy do you love seeing him like this. Too bad he’s a cheating prick. 

You lift your hips until just the tip of him remains in you before slamming your hips back down, burying his cock into you. You continue doing this at a slow pace, trying to get him to break. 

You move forward and start kissing his neck. After a moment, you ask him “Do you love her?”

“W-what?” 

You suck on a part of his neck a bit harshly, causing him to whine. 

“Do. You. Love. Her.” licking and kissing his neck in between each word. 

“No, baby. Never”

You begin to bounce faster on his pulsing dick. Spencer is now holding your hips so hard that you’re sure you’re going to be bruised tomorrow. His nails are digging into your skin, leaving crescent shaped indentations. 

You’re both moaning and sloppily making out before you sit back and wrap your hand around his neck, lightly squeezing. He’s rolling his eyes back into his head and moaning as you’re slamming your hips down against him. 

You can feel the pleasure growing in you. The string in your stomach is tightening with every bit of sound and movement coming from Spencer. Your legs feel like they’re on fire, you’re not sure you can keep this up for much longer, but you’re committed. 

Spencer can feel you begin to tire so he starts thrusting his hip up, pumping his cock into you as your hips meet his. 

“Do you love her? When you’re twisting up her sheets, do you suffer?” you whisper into his ear, squeezing his neck a bit tighter. 

“I- I don’t love her. I- FUCK, I hate her. It’s not as good as it is with you. Shit.”

You can feel how close he is. And you’re close too. 

You try to reach your climax faster by taking your hand and rubbing it against your clit. You’re moaning louder and you can feel yourself clenching around him. You’re breathing heavily, sweat is dripping down both of your bodies. Your head starts to lull back as you can feel yourself get closer to your climax. Your body is trembling at the thought of being so close. 

“C’mon baby, cum for me please. Be a good girl for daddy.”

With that, you feel the band in your stomach snap. You fall apart on his cock while shouting his name. Your cunt is clenching down on him and you’re shaking and moaning incoherently. Your grip on his neck loosens as you try to catch your breath. 

As you come down from your high, you debate whether you should tease him a bit more or end it here. You decide on the former. 

You begin to lift your hips and slam down on him again and again, trying to get him to the edge.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me? Be a good boy for me and cum? Fill me up with your cum?” you asked as you nipped at his ear. 

“Yes baby please. I’m a good boy.” 

“Good.”

You wrap your hand around his neck again, making him whimper as tears start to fall down his cheeks. 

“Oh poor baby, does it hurt? Do you need to cum?” 

“Yes please, FUCK, baby, need to cum so bad.”

You can see his abs tightening from the pleasure that’s been building up. His body is trembling as he tries to stave off his climax, the grip he has on your hips is numbing. 

You move close to his ear, whispering “Too bad.”

You pull back and begin to mount off Spencer, causing the both of you to wince but Spencer is left confused. “What are you doing?” he asks

“I’m leaving.” you say as you clean yourself up with one of his blankets that he had lying around. 

“What do you mean you're leaving? I haven’t cum yet. Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving you. You think I’m going to stay? Knowing that you cheated on me? When you’ve been cheating on me for a month?”

“Come on baby, don't be like this. I can change. I’ll change. Just come back and I can show you how sorry I am.” he says, giving you a sly grin. 

“No, Spencer. Who the fuck do you think you are, cheating on me? You think there is a woman alive who is better than what you have?”

Spencer sits there speechless, for once in his life. His face is flushed with tears running down his cheeks from the denied orgasm. 

Once you’re dressed, you walk out the door. 

Loving him was easy, which is why it hurts now that you’ve left. 3 years down the drain. What a prick.

[liveontelevision]

Hello friends,

Sorry about the lack of content recently, I've been running kinda low on energy :,) but I have some little treats, never fear.

Here's a short Vox thing I wrote awhile ago, it's angsty it's kissy, it ends with a cliffhanger. Classic fic by me.

I meant to turn it into a full thing, and I just might later? We'll see

CW: Smoking and smooching

Human | Vox x Reader

You cringe, scrunching up your nose when the familiar scent hits you. You approach the TV-headed demon, who was lounging on the large balcony of the Vees' Penthouse. Or was it lamenting?

"Yuck. You still smoke here?"

"It's Hell, doll. It's not like it'll kill me. Can't even feel the high anymore, actually."

"I guess not.. Then why do you even smoke? If it doesn't affect you?"

"Eh. I don't know. Try not to think too hard into that shit." A comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

"Can I bum one?" With a mocking scoff, he reaches into his pocket to pull out the pack. In a thoughtless decision, you place the cigarette between your teeth, pulling his face in your direction and inching impossibly close to him. He seemed startled by your sudden attack.

You hover just in front of his lips, lighting the end of your cigarette with the cherry of his own.

That was definitely an interesting move for someone with absolutely no history of smoking. As you inhale, you choke up and immediately cough out the rest. Vox is only watching you, a smile tugging at his lips while you cough up a lung. Your eyes water and you let out a whimper before propping your arms against the railing.

"Smooth." He comments.

"W-Watch it." You snap back.

You do manage to draw out a smoother hit, looking down at the city that, ironically, seemed so lively.

All that time went to waste. All those years you'd spent chasing over this CEO, being a part of the paparazzi, stalking the media for any buzz, passing his building when you have the time.. had the time. The fact that he's seemingly replicated his dream headquarters in the center of the underworld seemed like a Hell in itself. Constantly mocking you for never getting your big scoop. For wasting your life on him.

You couldn't help but approach it at first. You reluctantly enter the stores and offices that surround the first floor, inspecting all his products. You didn't recognize him at first. I mean, he has a TV screen for a head. His voice is what gave it away. His charismatic facade and sauve persona he uses on any television program. That's what you recognized. Apparently those are skills that stick with you after death.

He found you eventually. You'd been residing on the barren side of Hell. It was cozy. Not everyone had family members with them, you were just the lucky few. Your sweet grandma was here. Sinners who are visibly older seemed to be avoid by most clear-minded demons. Why bug them? And what kind of decisions did they make to end up here and survive for so long? They probably don't even remember why they're here. But some seemed to remember their lives.

Your grandma recognize you almost immediately. She was quick to take you into a part of hell that seemed to bypass the cities and dangers. It, of course, had its flaws. The Hellborn rodents were bothersome, but it somehow managed to be peaceful on its own.

It didn't last long, though. Extermination Day finally caught up to your little home. You have no idea how you survived, it was a miracle. but you were the only one. You started appreciating your aftlife in another fit of irony. You're nearly immortal, maybe it's time to give the city a try.

"Thanks for taking me in, too. You didn't have to do that."

"I can't leave my favorite stalker on the streets." He nudges you, having to lean down a bit to do so. He was towering. You let out the softest chuckle, leaning into his touch, despite it's teasing motivations. You sigh, taking another drag.

"Wait these aren't Valentino's smokes, are they?" You hold it over the edge, ready to flick it from your fingers, if that's the case.

"Definitely not. I wouldn't give you those if you asked." You hum at his words, releasing a puff of smoke. "But, uh.. let me know if he offers you any, alright?" You let out a little laugh and nod.

Your comfortable silence was broken, with the end of your cigarette. You let it crumble to the ground, stomping it with your nice business shoes. Vox rolls his eyes, shooing you away.

"Don't ruin those, they were expensive." He mutters.

"Well I would've been fine if you didnt essentially set my wardrobe on fire." You scoff.

"Your wardrobe? Was a bunch of country bumpkin dresses with poofy sleeves, doll. Even Vel was ready to get rid of that mess." The silence overcomes again. The breeze coming from the sheer height of the building seemed refreshing. You looked up to Heaven. How cruel of them to put it in sight.

"I really thought that was it. That life was short and then you die. That there was no point in trying to get rich and famous as long you were doing something you liked."

"So you liked stalking me?"

"Fuck off, Vox, you know what I mean." You couldn't help but smile. "How could I have wasted all that time on you? I could've been building my skills. Maybe I wouldn't be mooching off of some big shot like you if I did." You looked away, not willing to make any eye contact while mentioning him.

"Hey, you know I don't mind.. you can't prepare for death." He reaches out, he's not sure why, maybe to offer you some comfort. Maybe he just wanted to see your face, again. You darted away from him unknowingly, making his hand recoil.

"But, I mind! I don't want to rely on you. I should be able to do this by myself, I came here the same way you did, I had the same chance to get to where you are now." You huffed, embarrassment from your confession turning your face red. "But I just.. I didn't. I keep wasting my time..."

A cool touch hit your cheek, and before you know it your head had been turned to face Vox. He kept his claws holding your chin upwards, despite your attempts to pull out of his grasp.

"Stop it. There's nothing but time here. Listen, I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but- for the first time in years.. I feel... human, again." You blink slowly at him, not exactly minding his touch at this point. "And that's because of you." You hated getting flustered, but his words alone caused you to tense up. He felt your jaw clenching in his hand, bringing him back to reality. With a quick release, he brings his fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

"So.. yeah. Don't get it in your head that this is some sort of.. sugar daddy thing. You're free to do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want. And- you uh.. you're always welcome back." You stare at him for longer than you'd like to admit. Looking for some kind of excuse for your gaze, you hold your hand out for another cigarette. He gets the memo after awhile.

You place it between your lips and before you get the chance to think, his hands are back on your chin, bringing your face close. He mirrors your actions from before. It startled you, the cigarette falling from your lips and rolling off the balcony floor. Both your eyes follow it for a moment, before looking at eachother and sharing a little laugh.

His own cigarette falls from his lips. And with his hand still on chin you're pulled into an expected kiss. The sight of his dazed eyes when he finally pulls away only leaves you wanting more. But.. you can't. You pull away with a sullen look and step away from balcony. Without a word, you leave him alone. He's lost yet another independent spark. His heart can ache later. For now, he's cursing himself for letting anyone see that side of him, again.

♡♡♡

Womp womp

Love the pics where they knew eachother in life 👌

Taglist:

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest )

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[zerokurokawa]

Hi bestieee!🤍✨

May I request a one-shot where the Toman boys are playing 'Kiss, Marry or Kill' at a party and they ask Mitsuya if he would 'Kiss, Marry or Kill' y/n?🌚 also Baji is y/n's best friend and gets a little jealous of Mitsuya 🤭

I leave it up to you and your imagination whether y/n ends up kissing Mitsuya or Baji 🌚🤍

Kiss, Marry, Kill | Toman Boys

Wrote this especially for you, bestie <3

It was a late Friday night and everybody was hanging out at your house after a Toman meeting. Mikey was eating snacks while Draken, Emma, Takemichi, and Hinata were all around the kitchen counter, yapping about how their days went. Emma perked up at a thought she had in her head and ran into the living room where you, Mitsuya, Baji, and Chifuyu were sitting in front of the TV, playing video games.

"I have the best idea!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down in her uniform.

"What is it?" You ask, turning around towards her. Baji and the others were too engrossed in the game to notice the sudden mood change in the room.

"Let's all play: Kiss, Marry, Kill!" Emma sounded so excited as she thought of this as being her chance to get closer to Draken.

Baji suddenly turned around, now intrigued with the situation at hand. Chifuyu also perked up, thinking this was his chance to get it on with one of the ladies. Mitsuya also seemed interested in the game.

Suddenly, everybody was crowded around the living room, sitting in a circle as the game was beginning.

"All right, Draken! Kiss, Marry, or Kill Emma." You started off, trying to get them closer.

Draken let out a small sigh before saying, "Well, obviously not kill so I guess marry."

He had a nonchalant look on his face as Emma was squealing with excitement. Now, it was Hinata's turn to ask.

"Mitsuya, Kiss, Marry, or Kill y/n?" He perked up at the question and hesitated for a moment. He liked you, but he also knew that Baji was your best friend who had feelings for you this entire time.

"Uhm… I, uh… I guess, Kiss?" He said while stuttering over his words. The whole room lit up with laughter as Mitsuya started to blush. Baji, on the other hand, was the only one not laughing.

"Does that mean we have to kiss now?" You asked, shifting more towards the center of the circle as Mitsuya was sitting on your left side while Baji was on your right. You peeked over at Baji to see him gritting his teeth as you asked the question.

"No, it doesn't." Baji said, standing up and walking outside, seemingly upset at the situation.

"Keisuke!" You went to follow after him before he closed the front door.

He was heading towards his bike when you stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong? It's just a stupid game…" You tried to console him.

"Don't tell me you were about to kiss Mitsuya right in front of me." He had fucked up. He had let his inner monologue speak outwards.

"No, I was joking! Besides, why are you upset? I'm not asking again." You folded your arms in disappointment.

"Maybe I didn't want to play the game. Maybe I didn't want to see you kiss another guy." He said, a blush forming across his cheeks.

"Okay well…" Was all you managed to get out before he had stepped closer to you, leaning in.

"Maybe, I wanted to be asked that question so that maybe, I could have the chance to kiss you." He was now towering over you with his Toman uniform accentuating his large stature.

You were breathless at the sight before you. Was he really about to kiss you? Did he really want to kiss you? That's when you felt his hand reach up and cup your cheek. He leaned in, breath on yours, and closed the gap between you two.

He kissed you quickly, pulled back a little, and then went in for more. Before you knew it, the make-out session had ended with a round of applause of everybody inside who had been watching through the window the entire time.

A slight blush came across your cheeks when you noticed everybody watching, but your attention stayed on Baji.

"Kei…" You whispered out. Baji didn't respond, instead, he went in with another kiss. He then leaned back, taking you by the hand, and leading you back inside.

"It's about damn time." Draken said as he was pulling a jug of juice out of the refrigerator. Emma came up to you, beaming about how you can go on double dates with her and Draken now.

The evening ended perfectly, as Baji didn't let go of your hand the entire night.

[natimiles]

Your recent works with Liam's treasure hunt made me cry and all giddy at the same time 🥹

Speaking of Liam, could you do him + neck kisses for the event? He's just so precious ^^

I’m glad you liked the fic! Thanks!

Liam grew on me so much after reading his route. He is indeed very precious, and he deserves all the love in this world! :’)

Liam + Neck

Words: 450

Tags: established relationship; no pronouns for reader.

You place the mug on the tray, next to another identical one. Tilting your head to the side in a cat-like manner — a habit you picked up from your lover — you carefully study them. The latte art you tried doesn’t look so bad; at least you can recognize it as a heart-shaped flower.

You knew he’d find anything you did beautiful, but you also wanted to try harder and gradually become better. It hasn’t been long since you started practicing latte art, but it’s a little something you and Liam like doing together in your free time.

With a proud smile, you pick up the tray and go to Liam’s bedroom. As usual, his attention is yours the second you enter the room, a relieved smile spreading across his face. You walk up to him, and he sets aside the script he was reading, ready to give you his undivided attention.

“Tada!” you say, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of him. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he smiles, reaching for your hand to guide you to sit down beside him.

“You always say that,” you chuckle.

“Because it always is, like everything you do.” He sneaks his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug.

If he was totally honest, he thought you took too long in the kitchen. You had told him you were just going to get something warm for both of you, but he was worried that something had happened or that you wouldn’t come back. He knew you wouldn’t just leave him like that, so he tried to tone down his anxious thoughts and trust that you’d be back as you promised.

“You know, Liam, I made us little hearts because I wanted you to know that I love you so much,” you say as you return his embrace and squeeze him in your arms.

You lean forward a little, nuzzling your face against his neck and placing a kiss there. He giggles, feeling a little ticklish. He realizes you can tell he is fidgety and that you’re trying to reassure him. His heart beats faster, and a warmth spreads through his chest.

He feels your love encompassing him on a daily basis and hopes you can feel how much he loves you too; how he can’t see himself living without you anymore.

Liam nuzzles his face into your neck too, and you feel something warm and soft touching your skin. And then again. And again… He showers your neck with kisses, so much that you start to feel ticklish and laugh. 

“I love you so much too,” he laughs along with you, his heart a little lighter now.

Taglist: @judejazza @chandeliermichel @leia-skywalker-organa @olivermorningstar @queengiuliettafirstlady

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

[annie-creates]

Pile of misfortunes

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1200

Note: This is my 50th post, so there comes a new character! I usually write for Abby but this seemed suitable for Ellie. I warn you she's kinda awkward in this (maybe the whole story is).

Living in Jackson wasn’t exactly a dream come true, but considering the apocalypse outside the walls it was peaceful and enjoyable. Everyone had their respective roles and found their purpose, a contribution to the community. You were no different, finding your skill in baking and cooking edible goods and sweet deserts. It wasn’t the most exciting nor important role, but it was yours and you were happy to be active part of the society. It meant you spent half of almost every day in the humid kitchen and giving out servings, but at least it connected you to people in your commune. Everyone knew your name and to your luck most of them liked you.

One of those who liked you even more was Ellie. She has lived there with Joel for some time now, growing up into a skilled woman with Tommy who thought her how to shoot every gun under the sun while Joel sharpened her skills of stealth and camouflage. Maybe that’s why you never noticed her, she was just too good at blending with the crowd. It sure wasn’t the fact she turned away every time she caught herself staring at you or how she left immediately after eating her lunch in fear of somehow embarrassing herself in front of you. Over time she built her own group of friends around Jackson and could only wish for you to one day become one of them.

That’s what had her staring at you dancing in the middle of the makeshift floor under the big marquee as the community celebrated the start of spring. It sure wasn’t the short skirt you decided to wear that elegantly flew around your legs when you moved, or your golden hair shimmering in the last rays of the setting sun. With a face flushed red she couldn’t tear her eyes away from your moving form, not realizing her ogling of you has been spotted.

“You love her, don’t you?” Dina asks her best friend, setting her glass on the bar table.

“Is it that obvious?” Ellie counters desperately, hardly tearing her sight away from you.

“You should do something about it.” Dina encourages her, not being able to look at her so helplessly in love anymore.

“…I don’t even know if she likes girls.” Ellie answers after a minute finally snapping her eyes to her friend instead of you.

“Well I do.” Dina triumphantly declares with a meaningful smirk. “And she does. A lot.”

Ellie had hardly spoken with you along the last couple months but she was completely smothered with you. She was just finding excuses not to have to talk to you and face your rejection, maybe just admiring you from afar was the safest option. Yet if she keeps doing it like that, you’ll catch her sooner or later and think she’s some type of creep spying on you. So maybe it’s best to do it fast, like a band aid.

“Maybe I should.” She decides then and there, saying it out loud so she can’t back out this time.

“Go for it!” Dina pushes her forward to finally get her to some action.

But as Ellie nears you on the other side of the tent, she sees you arguing with one of the older men in the commute. She feels like she remembers him from the leaders’ meetings, but isn’t sure which one it is exactly. He clearly tells you something offending because you curl in on yourself and quickly leave the party before she can even get to you. He goes the other way satisfied with himself and once again Ellie is lost in what to do.

“Go find her.” Suddenly Dina nudges her again, seeing as she wasn’t very successful.

They both find you outside a couple streets to the east, sitting on a bench hidden under an oak tree and crying. It’s a sight Ellie would never wish to see again, so used to your cheerful and bubbly personality she didn’t think you even had the ability to cry. Besides, who would want to make cry someone so wonderful like you? That should be a crime in its own.

“She’s crying, what do I do?” Ellie whispers like a lost puppy.

“Go comfort her.” How was that not obvious Dina didn’t know, maybe the love made Ellie’s brain overgrow with fungus.

“How do I do that?” Ellie asks again earning a loud facepalm from Dina.

“Start with hugs.” She recommends.

“With what?” Ellie yelps loudly.

“Hugs. You know? When you hug someone to make them feel better…” Dina starts overexplaining.

“Okay, okay. I will.” Ellie agrees to get her to stop mocking her and finally makes her way over to you.

Your bench is cold in the evening air and you sit there like a pile of misfortunes, wiping your nose and tear stained cheeks with the long sleeve of your colorful sweater. You didn’t expect to be unhappy tonight, much less to be insulted for your cooking skills, your mother’s recipe at that. Everyone always loved the pie she used to make and you got confident over time in making it yourself as a remembrance of her, so why did someone wait till now to tell you they didn’t like it?

“Hey.” Ellie shows up scaring you a little bit. “You okay?”

“Oh, hey. Yea, I’m fine. Just a little out of it, that’s all.” You smile at her through your tear-stained face even though the smile doesn’t reach your saddened eyes at all.

“Do you, ugh, want a hug?” Ellie offers sitting at the bench next to you.

“Sure.” Shrugging your shoulders, your smile is genuine this time.

“What happened?” she asks carefully not wanting to scare you away like a magnificent bird or a fragile butterfly.

“Rowan said he didn’t like my pie. That it wasn’t good…” but considering your reaction it was clear he used much harsher language. “And that maybe I should give up baking altogether.”

“Nonsense. Your pie is great! And so is everything else you make.” Ellie is fast to deny any of such accusations. “Didn’t you say it was a recipe from your mom? She made it with love and so do you.”

“Yeah… yeah it is.” You were surprised Ellie remembered such details from conversations you held months ago.

“Who cares what one old dude thinks. If you weren’t good they wouldn’t have placed you in the kitchen for Sunday lunches.” She assures you. “I always enjoy your food the most.”

“Thank you.” You actually felt better now, feeling a weight lifted off your chest.

“I will gladly eat his portion anytime.” Ellie makes you laugh with her antics.

Behind your back Ellie sends Dina a thumbs up and her friend returns the gesture as she sees you clinging onto Ellie’s shirt. She knew Ellie had it in her to finally get close to you, just a few more days like this and she’ll actually get her to ask you out. That is, if you don’t get to it first, because you also had some unmissable admiration for Ellie and if she wasn’t so blinded by her obsession with you she would have seen it too.

[crazyyluvr]

hi! Can I please please ask a kaz brekker x reader? I was thinking of reader being a blind heartrender. I headcanon blind grishas to have their abilities amplified, and a blind heartrender would be basically daredevil XD.

Thank you in advance for reading the request, I really loved six of crows!

I am the QUEEN of Hearts, Don't Tell Me Otherwise

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

summary: Having a blind Heartrender has its perks. For Kaz Brekker, having a blind Heartrender that can hear his heartbeat change around her has its disadvantages.

genre: fluff

wc: 3.4k

content: reader is blind, fem!reader with she/her prns, violence (some torture), reading is a bit clumsy, kaz's heart speeds up a lot

note: OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA <33 tysm for requesting anon. i hope this layout is fine, i just wanted to try something different. sorry if it's kinda bad, i wrote it in one sitting LMFAO. either way, hope u enjoy!!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited

Perks

1. You didn't need your eyes to see.

It was very useful in heists to have someone who knew that someone was walking towards them without having to actually see them. Being blind somehow enhanced your hearing and your touch on your Grisha powers, and that was why you could do a lot of things easier than other Heartrenders — even Nina — had difficulty with.

It was one of the main reasons why you stuck with Kaz when he had to crack a safe; you were basically his lookout.

"Someone's around three minutes out," you whispered to him, standing a few paces behind Kaz who was hunched over a safe. Your head was tilted to the side, your ears were focusing on a melody only you could hear.

"Scratch that, two minutes out, they're moving faster," you reported. "Are you almost done?"

Kaz focus on the complicated lock didn't break as he replied, "I need more time."

"Okay," You moved forward, hands in front of your thighs to guide you around the desk in front of you.

"Thirty seconds," You said, the heart beat of the approaching guard getting louder and louder. "How down?"

"Shut-eye," He replied.

You put your hand up in front of you.

The doorknob jingled a little, and you activated your power, drastically slowing the heartbeat of the guard before he could open the door. You heard a thud on the floor, and you knew that he was unconscious.

A few seconds later, the safe clicked open. Kaz reached in and grabbed the money that you came for. "You could have at least tried to soften his fall or something. Someone could have heard that."

You shook your head. "There's no one close enough to hear." You turned to Kaz's voice, a small smirk on your lips. "Besides, It's just the two of us. I didn't want to leave you alone, 'cause you'd miss me too much."

Kaz rolled his eyes. "Don't feed your ego. It's not a fitting sight for you."

You laughed a little. "Like you don't do that everyday."

You turned to get out of the room, opening to door to free yourself. The door opened halfway before it suddenly stopped, like it was blocked by something. You didn't expect the obstruction, which caused you to trip over something and fall to the floor with a loud bang on the wooden ground.

Kaz stood over you in concern. You had tripped over the unconscious guard's body. "I thought his body was facing the other way," you groaned.

Kaz didn't have time to reply before both of you heard shouts in the corridors. Looks like they could hear that. He used his cane to get hold of the back of your jacket and pulled you to your feet.

"Time to go!" You dusted yourself off, leaping over the body and speedwalking away from the thundering of more guards, Kaz right at your heels.

2. You could always tell if someone was distressed.

You didn't live in the Slat, since you preferred to have your own place away from the gang, but that didn't make you any less close to Jesper, Inej, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias. You visited the Crows often, whether it be in the Slat or Crow Club.

You knew how important getting together was to them, whether or not they'd admit it. In a life full of mistrust and traitors, it was hard to find a crowd that you could actually trust. Of course, your friends had their own secrets that they kept to themselves, like how you had your own, but being with them without the pressure of telling them those stories was precious.

You were able to loosen up around them, laugh with them without the fear of judgement or that these moments of vulnerability would be used against you.

Instead, you relied on them to just forget your current struggles as you talked about stupid things over drinks.

You also used it as a chance to check up on them. You couldn't see them but you could hear them. Being blind made you sharpen your hearing more, both with our without the use of your Grisha abilities.

You could tell when there was something bothering your friends, which is why you knew there was something bothering Wylan when you and your friends decided to share some drinks in the Crow Club.

Jesper was mid-argument with Nina about what came first: the chicken or the egg. Inej and Matthias were just listening to them, occasionally adding their own thoughts or laughing when either of the debaters made a particularly stupid point.

You noticed that Wylan wasn't talking as much as he normally did. You felt him fidgeting beside you, his arm or his leg twitching more than it usually does.

If those weren't enough of a sign that there was something weighing on his mind, then there was his heart that also proved that point. It never seemed to settle. His shallow breaths that occasionally came in huffs of frustration agitated the muscle in the middle of his chest, making it beat faster than normal.

"Hey," you whispered to him, breaking him out of his troubled trance. He looked at you curiously. "Are you okay?" You asked, your brows unknowingly furrowing in concern.

"I'm fine," Wylan said, smiling reassuringly.

You rolled your white eyes. "You do know that fake smiles won't work on the blind, right?"

Wylan's smile dropped, shocked. "How did you know I was smiling?"

"I didn't," you shrugged, taking a sip from your glass. "I just guessed. But seriously, is there something wrong? You seem more distressed."

Wylan sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked around at your table, and when he confirmed that none of your companions were paying the two of you any mind, he answered truthfully. "My dad's still sending me letters."

"I hope you've burned those letters," you huffed, feeling your blood boil quietly at the mention of Wylan's horrible sperm donor. "He's just trying to provoke you, make you feel worthless."

"But —"

"Don't even try to tell me that you are worthless, Wylan," you said harshly, turning your head towards him despite your blank eyes not meeting his gaze, instead staring through him. That did nothing to lessen the defiance in them. "You may not be able to read, but who cares? I can read for you, Jesper can read for you. That's kind of the point of having friends, we'll make up for whatever you lack."

Wylan thought about it for a moment. You could tell that your words worked on him from the way his breaths eased and his heart steadied.

"Yeah..." A smile slowly spread on Wylan's lips, a genuine one this time. "Thanks."

"Anything to stop your very loud heartbeat from distracting me," you joked, making Wylan laugh.

Kaz watched the interaction from the bar, his eyes unreadable as he turned back to his drink, finishing it before heading upstairs without another word.

3. Lies couldn't hide from you.

Kaz swung his cane, the crow handle finding its mark on the man's knee, hitting it with a sickening crack. He cried out in pain, keeling over but not going that far due to his hands chained to the ceiling.

The man was a spy placed in the Dregs. You found him when you were having a private heist meeting and heard his heart lingering out the front door.

So now, you were both trying to find out who hired the traitor — well, more like Kaz was beating him up for answers while you served as his lie detector.

"Who are you working for?" Kaz said, repeating the question he's been drilling into the man for the past hour. Despite the way he was pathetically sobbing, he still refused to give up the name of his boss.

Not out of loyalty, but out of fear, you thought, taking note of the way his heart beat at a pace only set by fear. Fear not only for what Kaz could and would do to him, but also fear for what would happen if he gave Kaz what he wanted.

"Olek!" He cried. Kaz, blood splattered on his black vest that was exposed from his decision to abandon his coat for mobility, turned to you expectantly.

You shook your head. "Lie."

Kaz swung his cane again without hesitation, this time bringing hitting the man's chest. The man's scream in pain was worse than before.

Kaz probably broke a few ribs, you thought offhandedly, only flinching in disgust when you felt some of the blood from the man's mouth hit your cheek. You wiped it off immediately.

"I was telling the truth!" He yelled, sobbing. "I was telling the truth!"

Kaz used his cane to tilt the man's head up by the chin, forcing him to meet Dirtyhands' cruel stare. He would receive no mercy, as there was nothing that could be given in the first place.

"My Heartrender said you lied, so you lied," Kaz said through gritted teeth. "If she keeps saying otherwise, you will die for this boss of yours. Are you willing to give your life for someone who could care less about it?"

When he received no response other than cries, Kaz prepared to hit with his cane again.

"Karlos!" The man screamed, pausing Kaz mid-swing. "Karlos Drulak!"

Kaz didn't turn to you before you spoke, your smile heard in your voice behind him. "There's our answer."

Your satisfaction was mutual, as Kaz's shoulders let go of some of its tension as he straightened — well, as much as he could without relying on his bloodied cane. "Finally." He readjusted his gloves and turned around, limping away, only stopping to speak to you.

"Send him to the grave."

Your smile widened into a grin, your teeth flashing in the lamplight. "With pleasure."

Kaz left you to your business, the screams of terror fading into the night as he went to the Slat to formulate a plan with the new information he'd just gained.

—————

Disadvantages

1. You didn't need your eyes to see him.

You always knew it was him.

Whether he would enter the Crow Club to find you drinking with Jesper, or he'd knock on your apartment door with an important matter in mind, or even just passing by him in a busy market despite the noise and the multiple heartbeats.

You always noticed him.

It bugged Kaz. He knew that no matter what other disguises he may put on, no matter whether or not he had his cane to tap on the tiles of the road or the wood of the Crow Club or the Slat, you always knew it was him.

He stood in front of your door, staring at the number in front of him. The plan for your heist the next day had undergone many changes, and he had to inform you of them.

He took a deep breath, raising his knuckles to knock.

"Come in, Kaz," you called, voice muffled from inside the apartment. It always happened when he popped by; he'd inhale, prepare to knock on the door, only for you to interrupt him and just tell him to go in.

He let out a quiet huff almost fondly. Of course she knew.

He opened the door, letting himself in. "You knew it was me." It was a question said as a statement. That's just how Kaz normally speaks when he's curious but wants to hide the fact that he's curious, but you could always tell the difference.

"Of course," you said, not looking up from your construction of your beverage. Your hands had eyes of their own, moving to the familiar spots of your condiments. "Your heartbeat."

"Everyone has their own, do they not?"

You laughed, meeting his jab with softness. "Yeah, they do, but none of them quite beat like yours."

Kaz's heart sped up a little at the words, and he knew that he couldn't hide it from you. Your knowing smirk just made him feel warmer.

2. You could always tell when he was distressed.

Kaz wasn' the only one who had access to unannounced appearances.

You made it a habit of appearing randomly in his office just like him visiting you in your apartment, but unlike Kaz, you sometimes came there just for his company, to just sit down on the spare chair in front of his desk and read or draw or whatever your mood makes you do. Neither of you say a word, but you could tell that he was also content with the arrangement.

You found Kaz seeming more distraught than usual, the normally steady beat of his heart thundering like a skittish horse that was cornered by unwanted oppressors.

Kaz didn't look up from his the papers on his desk when your signature knock reverberated in his space, or when you swung the door open to let yourself in.

"Is there something wrong?" You asked casually, approaching your seat and sinking into it. There was something oddly comforting about the hard wood resting on your back, like an anchor in an unknown sea.

Kaz tilted his head to look at you, eyebrows raised. "What makes you think there's something wrong."

You playfully waved your hand in Kaz's general area. "You gave off a distraught aura the moment I stepped into the room."

Kaz scoffed, making you smile. That was the closest thing you'd get to a laugh from him.

You let your playful persona slip as your face blanked, your white eyes staring at him seriously. "Kruge for your thoughts?"

Kaz studied you for a moment, before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He ran a gloved hand through his slightly messy hair in frustration. "Per Haskell gave away one of two of our storage units for twelve thousand kruge."

Your eyebrows shot up in shock. "Just twelve thousand?"

"Exactly," Kaz huffed. "I'm trying to get it back, but the buyer's refusing. They haven't even moved in yet, and I already told them I can return the money they gave."

Kaz intertwined his fingers with each other, thinking deeply.

His dilemma also put your brain to work, shuffling through the possible solutions.

"Who bought it?" You asked.

"Karlos Drulak," Kaz said. The name sounded familiar to you.

You snapped your fingers, pointing to Kaz's left side. Kaz lifted his cane and moved your finger to point directly at him like you intended.

"Ah thank you," you said before continued. "He's the one who hired the other dude! The one who infiltrated the Dregs."

Kaz perked up slightly at the memory. How could that have slipped from his mind?

"Do you think that him buying our unit can be related to his unknown issue with us?" You wondered aloud.

"That's certainly a possibility," Kaz hummed.

You grinned. "See? Your heartbeat has already slowed."

You stood up, hefting the book you never opened in the office with you. "Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own."

"Are you leaving me because you don't want to brainstorm?" Kaz rose an eyebrow in slight amusement as you made a beeline for the door, your feet having already memorized the layout of the room.

Your chin hooked on your shoulder to give him a view of your grin. "Too much of something is bad. Even thinking."

You gave him a lazy salute as you left, but as you closed the door, you could have sworn you heard a laugh escape the man's lips over the faster beating of his heart.

3. He couldn't lie to you.

Kaz's hearing was muffled from the sound of ringing in his ears. He forced his eyes to open, blinking hard to try and shake away whatever spell unconsciousness casted upon him.

He saw you crouching over him, eyes staring down at his chest, where you had a hand over. You must've revived him.

He felt panic thrum in his veins, his hands moving before he could stop them from slapping your palm away from him.

"Kaz!" Your voice was oddly muffled as he tried to stand up. His bad leg didn't cooperate with his wishes as he fell back down on the rough ground.

He looked back at you, and now you kept a respectable distance from him, your form framed by flame with worry creasing your forehead and pulling the corners of your lips downwards. He barely heard your next words: "Breathe!"

He forced his chest to comply, inhaling the smoky air and exhaling with a cough.

Two more of those, and you held out his cane for him to grab, slightly askew. He hesitated, but grabbed on it, letting you pull him to his feet using his cane. He was swaying on his feet, and you could tell from his slowing heartbeat that he was close to fainting from smoke inhalation.

"I know you don't like being touched, but you can't walk out of here without me helping!" You shouted. You felt pity pinch your chest at the ay Kaz’s heart sped up at that. You didn’t want to force him but you had no choice.

You didn't have time to wait for him to regain his bearings as part of the flaming roof collapsed mere feet away from you two. You flinched at the bang, but you didn't hesitate to sling his arm around your shoulders and drag him out of the room, snatching Kaz's cane and using it as your guide to the entrance right before you felt the flames lick the back of your coat.

Kaz furiously patted the small patch of flame on your back to extinguish it. He felt the water on his waist slowly rising, but he tried to push it down.

It was just you, his Heartrender. He'll be fine.

"C'mon, Jes is waiting for us at the rendezvous," you said, your voice strained from carrying most of Kaz's weight. He tried to walk on his own, to lessen your burden, but his body was too weak for it.

You left the building, Karlos Drulak's brand-new bar. Hey, at least the color of the fumes complimented the brown...?

Jesper caught you two and rushed forward to help, but you stopped him with a single shake of your head. It took a lot for Kaz to just let you keep him upright, what more if Jesper added to that?

You both hobbled as one to a safe distance before Kaz collapsed inside an alleyway. He took deep breaths, trying to fight the black roses of anxiety that bloomed in the corners of his vision.

"Kaz, look at me," you spoke, feeling his heart rate spike, but you weren't sure what you could do to help. "Kaz, what can I do?"

"Talk," He strained. "Distract me."

"Uh — okay, okay," your brain scrambled for some story to pull up, so it decided to bring you a memory from your childhood. "There was a time where I revived a dog of my old neighbor when I was seven years old," you said, your eyes trained on his chest like you can see his heart. "My parents were off to work, so they left me with the neighbor, and his heart just stopped beating. The neighbors didn't know what to do, but I just put a hand on him and willed his heart to beat again. He lived for seven more years after that before he peacefully passed."

"You should have let that dog die," Kaz gasped, but his breaths were slowly evening out. "I hate animals."

You smiled lightly. "Liar."

"How can you tell I'm lying? My heartbeat's already all over the place," Kaz huffed.

"I don't need my power to tell that you're lying," you said, shaking your head fondly. "I know you Kaz. In the years that we've worked together, I got to know you. I know you feed your scraps of food to the strays behind the Crow Club, which is why they keep coming back for more."

"Didn't know anyone noticed," Kaz said, his breaths more symmetrical as his vision cleared.

You laughed. "You really expected me to not notice?" Kaz saw how you hesitated, how your smile faltered before you continued with seriousness lacing your voice. "I always notice when it comes to you."

Kaz sighed, gently grabbing the cane from you and hauling himself to his feet. "Let's go to the Slat. Better make sure that the others know we're alive."

"Wow, you want to tell them you're alive so they don't get worried?" You cooed, walking a few feet beside him and syncing your steps with him. "Soft is a good look on you."

"Shut up, Heartrender," He grumbled, but a small smile broke through his face.

"Your Heartrender," you sang, skipping slightly knowing that he can't deny you from the sudden speed of his heart.

He shook his head, the smile still not leaving his face as you both walked.

His Heartrender indeed.

[iwantanywayyy]

thinking about staying up past my bed time cause i don't have to be up early the next morning and my dad is coming home really late from work like usual. im in the living room laying on my stomach on the floor playing a game. our dog gets up to greet him at the door and dad comes around the corner taking off his shoes and coat.

"What are you doing up, bunny?" he comes over to me and grabs my feet that are kicked back in the air and he shakes them a little smiling down at me.

"im just playing a game ill probably be dead soon," i quickly turn back and smile up at him before returning my focus "could i maybe stay up a little bit longer?"

"Sure bunny" he smacks the soles of me feet and leaves to the kitchen. I keep playing my game and dad comes back out later with a drink and wearing his pajamas. he threw a pair of pajamas on my back "get your pj's on after this game we're gonna watch a movie" I wanted to keep playing but i felt bad saying anything so i listened and got up to go to the bathroom nearby and change. i bring my clothes to the laundry room and see dad's dirty clothes are there too so i decided to start a load. he must have heard me because i hear him clear his throat and turn around to see him leaning against the doorway drink still in hand. "Dad's tired little lady what's taking so long?" he walks closer to me smiling and i giggle telling him im just doing this quickly. he keeps walking closer to me which i didn't think much of until i could smell how strong his drink was. or maybe him...was he that drunk already?

he stops within an inch of me so close i can hear him breathing. his body hovers over mine and i try to keep myself collected but im getting nervous.

"I think you need new pj's bunny" he says leaning a little closer to me. "what?" i giggle again wondering what he means when suddenly i feel cold splash down the front of my shorts and down my leg. i stumble back into the washer letting out a little gasp looking up at my dad he's smiling at me and mumbles out a half assed "sorry." he looks at the cup in his hand and back at me before gulping the rest and tossing the glass. i shiver hearing it shatter against the concrete. i just keep looking down and fiddling with my shorts when my dad comes face to face with me

"Let me get that for you doll." he pressed his hand firmly against my stomach pinning me against the machine. i try to wiggle away confused and annoyed when my dad gets down and drags his tongue from my knee where his drink was dripping all the way up my thigh and over my shorts

"Dad what the fuck!" i put my hands on his head and push him away while he chuckles and lets me go. i hit my arm against his chest when he stands back so he knows im frustrated and his smile fades as i stand there pouting at him squeezing my legs together and hugging my arms against my chest. he softly smiles at me and offers a genuine apology and pats my back leading me out of the laundry room. he brings me to the couch and stands in front of it telling me not to move. when he comes back he has a new pair of pj's and my favorite stuffed bear. i smile immediately and reach my arms out to grab everything. i started to leave for the bathroom but dad tsk's at me making me turn around. he points his finger to where he told me to stand still and i walk back to wait. he sits on the couch in front of me for a while just looking at me in silence. he rubs his chin with is hand and leans back into the couch spreading his legs making me look down at my feet.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks me. i look back up at him confused and look back at the bathroom and down to my clothes.

He chuckles, "no sweetheart right here. start with the top"

I look back at him with wide eyes unsure if my father actually just told me to strip in front of him or not. He sits there waiting as my mouth starts to open but i can't think of anything to say.

"Do you need daddy to help?" He stands up and comes to me tucking my hair behind my ear and resting his hand on my shoulder. i was so confused and felt so vulnerable he was so big and so sweet but so mean i don't know he was confusing me i couldn't think at all. i realize his fingers are pinching my top's strap and they slowly start to pull it down while he stares at my face, his other hand gripping my other shoulder tightly holding me in place. "Awww little baby what's wrong? Can't think for daddy?" i cant help but whine and i feel my eyes tear up as he talks to me like this. "Up, up!" he taps my elbows and grabs my hands holding them above my head trying to lift my shift off. this snaps me back to it. i pull my arms down and step back from him and turn around telling him to stop this is weird. he quickly rushes behind me and pulls me back forcibly holding me against him. "Dad, stop!" I protest with him as my feet kick around and his big hands grab me all over trying to hold me against him. "Shhhhhh" he reaches one hand up to my throat and grips it. i freeze and don't say anything more while my dad's hand squeezes my throat and his other is wrapped around my waist gripping my hip.

"Are you gonna be a good girl baby? Please?" he lets go of my neck and i breathe in deep before he covers my mouth with that hand making it hard to breathe once again.

"I don't want to hurt you but i need this right now please be good for me" my heart starts beating faster as my dad tugs at my shorts with one hand. im getting so hot i feel like i could pass out i try begging against my father's hand as he pushed my shorts to my knees and grumbles against me smelling my hair and reaching that hand up to my tits groping me through my shirt. he teases my nipple with his finger making me whine and try to turn away. he pinches my nipple hard through my shirt making me scream against his hand before he roughly grabs at my tits breathing heavier against my ear grabbing me so hard i feel his finger prints will bruise me.

"I made such a sexy little girl. Nice fucking tits sweetie" he uncovers my mouth a little and pushes my chin up so he can put his mouth against my neck. he starts sucking on my skin and i feel his teeth grazing into me and his tongue flicking my neck. im crying and gasping from how he's holding me. his hand smacks my tits a couple of times before it reaches down and he lightly traces a finger over my glistening pussy lips.

"oh fuuck" he leans against my neck loosening his grip on me and lets out a deep sigh before placing his finger a little deeper between my pussy lips and sliding up. i go completely weak in my father's arms while he switches from digging his finger between my lips and sucking the juices off of it himself. he sounded like an animal in my ear lapping up every drop until eventually he reached down and touched me bringing his finger to my face and started rubbing my juices over my lips. i kept my mouth shut and whined against trying to turn away but he bit my neck again making my mouth open to cry out and then he shoved two fingers inside and pushed them back against my tongue making me gag and my eyes swell.

"Gooooood girl!!" he praises me as his fingers curl and rub around inside my mouth. he does this for a minute until drool and spit starts pooling in the back of my throat and im gurgling choking for air and he drags some spit out mumbling "fuck" as my head tilts down and i cough and try to catch my breath. my dad is holding my arms behind my back with one hand and im leaned forward gasping wanting to get away. i hear this sloshing wet sound behind me and once i can breathe again i look back and my eyes go wide and immediately start sobbing. different variations of "please, stop, dont" leave my mouth as my dad holds me tightly and i have to watch him jerking his fat cock off with my spit. he lines the head of his dick up with my pussy and i cry out please again hoping he will listen to me. he turns us both toward the couch and all he says is

"Walk" as he pushes me forward making me go because i don't want it to push inside of me. he leads me to the couch like this and bends me over. he places my hands against the wall and tells me to stay still. im still crying begging him saying please daddy over and over. his hands rub the sides of my body and then over to my tits again. he pops them out the sides of my top making me so exposed and he jiggles them watching them bounce. i stop crying as much and feel my face burning red when my dad kisses the back of my head and then wraps his arm around neck and plunges his cock all the way inside me. he sits there for a minute after he let out a sound ive never heard before. he switched between whimpering and grunting while i could feel his cock twitching inside of me. i stopped crying i couldn't do anything but sit there and let my dad use me and be good like he asked. my dad took his hands and placed them over mine holding himself over me like that for what felt like forever. im sure he could feel me trembling beneath him as he nuzzled into my neck "I'm sorry" he apologized again and then took his right hand and placed it between my legs. he pulled his cock almost all the way out before placing his finger on my clit and rubbing while he sunk his cock back inside me. i moaned out at how much he was stretching me out if felt like i was burning. he slowly kept thrusting into me while rubbing my clit and groaning into my neck. my breathing changed and my body started to feel tingly everywhere and i couldn't help but moan and wriggle while my dad rhythmically forced himself inside of me. his groans of pleasure made me feel so special i started to get so fuzzy and just want to make my dad feel good and happy. He started groaning louder and more often and he stopped rubbing my clit grabbing my hips with both hands. he relentlessly pounded into me while my mouth hung open and drool slipped off my tongue.

"Beg me to cum inside of you"

his words brought me back and i started to remember how i didn't want any of this... did i? my body was shamelessly wet for him why?!

"Say 'cum in my pussy dad' be a good girl ughhh"

"Dad!" i cry out shocked at what he's telling me panting from how roughly he's still fucking me. his cock is so hard inside of me it hurts from how deep he's hitting maybe i should just beg so this will stop!

"Hurry up bunny, fucking beg me please!"

i felt my little pussy clenching around my dad's cock and my mind went dumb again and all i wanted was to make him happy

"P-please cum in my pussy dad! im sorry ill be good daddy please cu-" i tried to beg him again but my body started convulsing and every thought left my head while my dad raped me and made me cum on his cock too stupid to understand what's happening.

"Thaaaat's right, fuck that's my tight little daughter!" my dad fucked me through my orgasm making me shake and still somehow he kept forcing his cock deep inside of me until he told me he was sorry he's been waiting so long to do this

"Here's it comes baby, oh fuck, oh fuck im gonna cum!" he grips my hips so tightly as his balls are pressed against me unloading rope after rope of sperm through his cock into my tight hot little pussy. His head is thrown back as he relishes the feeling of breeding his daughter for the first time. he's masturbated to the thought of this for years and now finally he's balls deep inside of her tiny cunt and he'll never have enough of her.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Reichenbach: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're done with Dean and his antics. You want to leave and you're going to do whatever it takes to make him understand that he doesn't have the power here. You do.

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

It doesn't matter what city you're in or what bar/strip club you're at, Dean always manages to flirt with every woman to the point where he'd like to fuck them. There is an exotic dancer in this car that Dean has his eyes set on while you're at one of the tables drinking yourself away. Dean hasn't paid you any attention since narrowly avoiding his brother, but it's not like you wanted it in the first place.

If you're being honest, you're getting kind of bored with him. It was fun in the beginning but you hate watching him sing badly, flirt with other women, and beat up any man he sees. You look over the entire bar and notice Crowley by the front door. He motions for you to follow him outside, and you listen since there is nothing else left for you to do.

You down the rest of your drink and follow the demon outside where it's much quieter.

"Look, it's no secret that we're both sick and tired of Dean's behavior and his attitude. We need to talk about his anger issues. He is getting out of control."

"He's a class-a douche," you roll your eyes.

"We need to do something. I've been in contact with Moose. He's trying to find a cure for being a demon."

"Yeah, like what we did to you? Remember that?" you chuckle.

"Unfortunately."

"Tell me one good reason why I should care."

"If he continues down this path, he's only going to be more ruthless to the point where he might kill you. I'm gonna guess you like life."

"That was weak but I guess I'll help because he's getting on my damn nerves."

Seconds later, the front door of the strip club opens and the beaten security guard throws Dean out. Two teenage boys walk past the strip club and collide with Dean. They say something insulting but before Dean can kill them, Crowley steps in.

"Kids, am I right? In my day, we respected our elders. Of course, back then, anyone over thirty was ancient. Now forty-year-olds are still living with mommy, lying on OkCupid, and taking pictures of their food."

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean sighs.

"A chat. We need to talk about your anger-management issues."

Dean has nothing better to do, so he follows you and Crowley into the nearest bar to grab a drink. Dean motions to the bartender when he gets there for a drink while you hold up two fingers for a double.

"So, how have you been feeling? On edge? Pent-up? Unfulfilled?"

"You sound like a Viagra commercial. You do know that, right?" Dean scoffs.

"This is about the Mark. It's changed you."

"I've noticed," Dean smirks and flashes his black eyes.

"I know that you want to keep the party going. I know you want to have fun till Daddy takes the black eyes away."

"Why are you picking on me? The Mark changed her, too."

"What are you, a child?"

"She's not going around beating people left and right. The fact is that you need to kill now. It's not a want, it's a need. Face it, darling. You're an addict. Death is your drug, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life chasing that dragon."

"So?"

"So, I'm here to facilitate."

"You want me to kill for you?"

"I want you to kill for us. You're going to snap eventually. The anger and the bloodlust are gonna build up until you can't take it anymore. So, the question is, do you want to spike a civilian or someone who has it coming?"

"Who?" you ask.

"Mindy Morris. She's a caring mother, a loving wife, and a cheating hoe. After her husband, Lester discovered Mindy's affair, heated words were exchanged. In the end, Mindy wanted a divorce and fifty percent of everything. Lester doesn't want that. We live in a very materialistic world. Mindy's gonna die one way or the other. Why not take the job and feed the beast?"

"He has a point," you shrug and down the first drink.

"Fine. This is a one-time deal."

The thought of Dean killing someone with the Blade causes your Mark to itch and burn slightly. You don't like the idea of going anywhere with Dean but he is going to cause chaos and you crave that right now.

"I'm coming with you."

"I don't care what you do."

"That's a lie," you scoff and down your second drink.

Most of that afternoon is spent watching Mindy at her house until the sun goes down. You're about to get out of the car when headlights shine from the end of the road. They get closer and a car pulls into the driveway. The car's lights turn off and Dean decides to confront the person rather than go inside and do the job Crowley wants him to do.

Dean takes the passenger seat while you get in behind him. The man jumps at the sudden noise and Dean smirks at this.

"What the fuck? Who are you people?"

"Let me guess. You're Lester?"

"Who are you two?"

"Who do you think?" Dean asks, flashing his black eyes. Lester seems to recognize the demon in Dean. "What the hell are you doing here, man?"

"My contact told me this was happening, so I wanted to come down and make sure it gets done right."

"Because you're the expert, right?" you ask.

"Murder 101. When you hire someone to kill your wife, you don't want to be around when the hit goes down. It's called an alibi."

"Yeah, I know what an alibi is. I watch 'Franklin & Bash'."

"Fascinating. Listen, you sold your soul for this shit, so--"

"It's not shit. This is my life, and she flushed it down the toilet."

"Did you ever stop to think why she cheated on you?" you ask and lean back in your seat. "Maybe she's not the problem, you are."

"I'm gonna say something to you and I need you to really listen to me," Dean says, recapturing his attention. "You're a loser. Your lady in there is ten times better than you. She's an eight and you're a four and a half, at best. I don't blame her for stepping out, especially if she found you were messing around first."

"No. I-I wasn't. How do you know?" Lester sighs.

"You just got that pervy 'I'd do anything to nail my secretary' look."

"No, t-that's not--It's different when guys do it."

"Really?" you scoff.

"Yeah, it's called science. Men aren't built for monogamy because of evolution. We're programmed, you know, to spread our seed."

Dean quickly punches him in the face for that comment.

"Like anybody would want your seed," you roll your eyes.

"As I said, a loser with a capital L."

"Yeah, well, you're a punk-ass demon! You work for me now. So, get in there and do your job, you freak!"

He really shouldn't have said that.

"What are you gonna do?" Dean asks with an icy glare. "Are you gonna watch? Is that what you like to do, Lester? Watch? Well, watch this."

Dean pulls out the First Blade and stabs Lester in the chest, killing him instantly. As soon as he is dead, you feel this wave of power that comes from the Blade. This high is what you need to feel like all the time. The high seems to get at Dean, too, but it's gone as quickly as it comes.

"Killing Lester wasn't such a good idea. Crowley is gonna be pissed he lost a soul."

"Crowley can kiss my ass."

This high is replaced by annoyance. If you were a demon, you'd be a much better one than him. With the "job" done, you two head back to Crowley who is in some bar talking to two demons. As soon as he sees you two, he motions for his minions to go away.

"Dean! Y/N! How did it go?"

"Go ahead, Dean, tell him."

"You were right, Crowley. He's dead and I feel amazing."

"He?"

"Lester."

"The client? You killed the client?"

"Does it matter? He was a douche. Now, he's a dead douche."

If Crowley was on the fence about Dean before, he's over it now. He's fucking pissed like you said he was going to be.

"Of course, it matters! The deal was one dead wife for one soul. If the wife's not dead, I don't get the soul. It's math."

"I told you," you say and he shrugs.

"Okay."

Dean turns to leave but Crowley isn't done yet.

"Don't turn your back to me!" Dean turns and shoves Crowley down to the ground with a cold chuckle. "Is something funny? What do you think you're doing?"

"Whatever I want."

"Really? Because I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean, what are you? A demon? If so, why isn't Lester's wife dead? Did you feel sorry for her? So, maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black eyes and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favor and PICK A BLOODY SIDE?!"

"Or what? Hmm? Go ahead. Make a move. See how it ends. I ain't your fucking bestie, and I ain't taking orders from you. When I need to kill, I'll call. Until then, stay the fuck out of my way."

"Fine," Crowley says and gets up. "It's over. What can I say? The crazy ones are good for a fling, but they're not relationship material."

"Are you done?"

"We're done. You know what, Dean? It's not me. It's you."

Crowley disappears seconds later, leaving you and Dean alone in the bar. Dean looks at you and sees a sour look on your face.

"What's your problem?"

"I'm done with your shitty attitude. You want to be the bad guy? By all means, but if you're going to be bad, be bad with a purpose. You're an even bigger dick than before."

"What are you gonna do?" Dean smirks. "Leave?"

"Yeah, maybe I will."

"I'd like to see you try," he laughs.

Oh, you will and he's not gonna like it when you finally do.

x

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