#took forever to make this because i had to pause for 5 minutes at every scene and go i love you i love you i love you

[becauseofthebowties]

For my 7k Followers Celebration ↳ @inacatastrophicmind requested: Dean + dorky moments

[sooverwhitesandpinks]

Bejeweled

Ceo!Harry Styles x Gf!Reader

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: angst?, fluff at the end, alcohol consumption, i think that's all. i did proofread, just not carefully.

Word Count: 2.1K

guess who finally wrote something! sorry for the months long writer's block, hope you enjoy.

Your phone lit up where you left it on the coffee table in front of you. Keeping your thumb between the open pages of your book, you reached for the device, hoping it was a text from your boyfriend.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed when you realized it was a message from your good friend, Hannah. You weren't disappointed because of Hannah, you were upset that today was becoming another one of those days without a word from Harry.

You knew being the CEO of a major company was a lot of time and dedication, but it had been months of only seeing Harry briefly in the morning and for an hour or so before bed.

As much as you loved him, you weren't getting any of that love or attention back.

'Anya, Erin, and I are going out tonight, you should join us. We haven't seen you in forever!!!'

Hannah's message stared back at you.

She was right. You hadn't been out in forever, and it's not like Harry would miss you tonight. You two were practically coexisting at this point. You stayed cooped up in this massive penthouse, Harry spent his days in his office or at business meetings and dinners. His weekends were taken up by work or trips related to the company.

Still, did you want to go out? You wouldn't mind getting ready for something other than the grocery store.

You decided you would give Harry a chance before answering Hannah. You pressed a few buttons on your phone before bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" Harry answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey! How's your day going?" You replied, happy to hear his voice.

"It's fine so far-" You heard him shuffle around before giving someone an instruction. "Look honey, is this important? Because I've got a lot going on and my next meeting starts in a few minutes."

"Oh," you paused for a moment. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight? We haven't really seen each other the past couple months."

"I've got a business dinner tonight, but feel free to order in whatever you want. You know I don't mind. Was that all?" He asked.

You took a second before answering. It was one thing to practically ignore you, but it was another to make you feel unimportant. You remember when Harry made you feel like a priority, and now your relationship had been reduced to a 'good morning' and a 'goodnight'.

"Yeah, that's all," you shook your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, I'll see you this evening," Harry said.

"I wouldn't count on it. I'm going out, don't wait up," you told him before hanging up.

'I miss you guys and I definitely need a night out! Where and when should I meet you?' You texted Hannah back.

5 hours later, you stood in front of the full length mirror in your closet, running your hands down the vintage Versace mini dress you picked out for some event of Harry's but never ended up wearing.

You felt good, great even. You took a long, relaxing shower. You had a glass of wine while you did your makeup and put every hair in place. It had been so long since you put time into yourself like this, you'd forgotten what it felt like to sparkle.

You grabbed a small handbag and walked out of the large closet. As you made your way out of your bedroom and down the hall, you heard the familiar sound of Harry's keys hitting the small table by the door.

With a smirk, you stepped around the corner and into view. You pretended to hardly notice Harry's presence as you grabbed your phone off of the couch and texted Hannah that you would be leaving in a few minutes.

You heard Harry's footsteps halt as he saw you. You waited a moment before looking up at him. You glanced down at the time on your phone.

"It's only 8:15, I thought you'd be at dinner," you said nonchalantly, slipping your phone into your purse.

"I moved it up a few hours so I could get home earlier," he answered, shrugging off his suit jacket.

"Ahh," you nodded, starting to walk past him and toward the door. He gently grabbed your arm and you let him, looking up at him expectantly.

"You're still going out?" He asked, brows furrowed. For just a second, you felt bad about leaving. Then you remembered how easily he dismissed you earlier on the phone, and how easily he's dismissed you for awhile now.

"Yeah, I told Hannah and the girls that I'd meet them in a few," you replied, watching his eyes scan over your body and back up to your face, pausing on your lips.

"But I moved my meeting so I could see you," he responded, his fingers slipping from your arm to your hand. His touch felt good, you'd missed him, but he can wait another night. You finally felt like you weren't the one left hanging.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to stay home the one time I made plans because you suddenly found a way to fit me into your tight schedule?" You tilted your head, matching his pout.

"Besides, you're seeing me now. I clean up nice, huh? I bought this dress for one of your events but it'll do for tonight."

"Honey-"

"Is this important? My ride is downstairs," you said, keeping your eyes on his. You watched it click as he realized he asked you the same thing hours ago. You raised a brow, pursing your lips.

"I guess not," he took a step back. "You look beautiful, love. Have fun tonight."

"I will," you smiled, finally walking to the door and stepping out of the house.

✨ 🪩 ✨

"I"m just a little tipsy," you slurred, holding up your thumb and pointer finger.

"Me too!" Hannah squealed, throwing her arms into the air.

Anya and Erin were still out on the dance floor, but you and Hannah were tucked into a large circle booth in the VIP section of the club.

You sat with the members of some band you'd never heard of. They were apparently a big deal. Hannah was obsessed with them and had scored herself a seat on the lead guitarist's lap.

You sat between one of their friends and the drummer, who was high out of his mind, chatting away with some other people that'd made their way up to VIP.

"You wanna dance?" Hannah asked, grinning wildly from across the table.

"Definitely," you nodded. You turned to the drummer beside you who was blocking your way out.

"Moonstone!" He smiled when you turned to him. He'd been calling you that all night, something about your aura. He referred to Hannah as Amethyst and Erin as Sapphire, you didn't catch Anya's.

"Can I squeeze past you?" You asked, pointed toward the outside of the booth.

"Of course," he nodded, nudging his friends out of the booth with him so you could get to where Hannah stood.

As soon as you were free from the table, one of your hands was grabbed by her as she dragged you down to the dance floor. Your other hand was looking at your phone for the first time all night, checking to see if Harry had said anything.

You saw two messages from him.

'I took tomorrow off. I figure we could spend the day together.'

'I miss you and I'm sorry for not making you feel as important as you are. I'll hopefully spend the rest of my life making it up to you.'

Despite the frustration you felt for months because of him, you felt a lot of relief in that moment. He did still want you. He still wanted forever with you. It wasn't something you realized you'd doubted until now.

'I hope you know I expect an apology in person too.'

You texted back. Simple enough to communicate that it will take more than a text message.

'And I'm excited to spend tomorrow with you. But I'm drunk so can we start around noon?'

You added, finally looking up from your phone as Hannah pulled you deeper into the sea of dancing people. You realized she'd located Erin and Anya.

"You still wanna dance?' Hannah shouted, starting to feel the music. You hadn't noticed it before, but it was deafeningly loud.

"Maybe just for a little while. I'm getting tired," you replied, suddenly not wanting to be anywhere but home.

"Are you okay getting home by yourself?" She asked.

"I'll just get an Uber," you shrugged. "I'll pretend to be on the phone with Harry if the driver seems shady."

"Fair enough," she laughed, turning more towards Anya and Erin.

"Bye ladies, it was fun seeing you. We gotta get lunch sometime soon," you leaned in between Erin and Anya to speak, hoping they'd hear you well enough.

The two drunk and sweaty women gave you a half hug, agreeing to lunch and wishing you a goodnight before they went back to senselessly jumping to the music.

You ordered the car as you walked to the door, only stepping outside when the app said it arrived.

The ride was short and your driver was nice enough.

As you entered your building and pressed your button on the elevator, you wondered if Harry was awake. You hadn't heard from him in almost an hour when he'd texted you to say noon was fine and to be safe.

You walked through the house, stepping out of your shoes at the door and carrying them with you to the bedroom. Harry sat up in bed, his computer in his lap as he typed away at something you were sure was work related.

"Hey Honey," he said softly as you entered, closing his laptop and setting it on his side table.

"Hey," you smiled, walking straight into the closet to change.

As you stepped out in your pajamas, Harry pulled open the covers, waiting for you to crawl in beside him.

You slipped under the duvet and dropped your head onto his lap, eyes closed. You heard him rustle around in the drawer of his nightstand before he pulled something out and closed the drawer.

You opened your eyes in time to see him pull a makeup wipe from its package.

"How was your night?" He asked, lowering the wipe to your face as he started to gently remove what was left of your makeup. It was something he used to do for you after his work events and charity galas. Or when the two of you would stumble in drunk after a night out.

"It was a lot of fun," you answered honestly. Those four or five hours were fun. You saw your friends and felt good about yourself.

"I'm glad," he replied, still brushing the wipe across your skin.

"How was yours?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"It was alright. I did a lot of thinking," he waited a bit before adding. "I missed you."

"But you didn't have to, Harry," you sighed. "I've been here the whole time, and it took me doing something for myself, for once, to get your attention."

"I'm so sorry, Honey. I've been terrible. I've just been so caught up in work and trying to land this account," he started explaining.

"I know, trust me, I do. That's why I haven't nagged you about it, but I deserve to feel like a priority, Harry. I know your work is important, but I should be too. We've been coexisting for almost two months now. We're supposed to be a team," you finally told him what's been on your mind.

"We will be, we are," he finished wiping your skin, now taking your face between his hands as he looked down at you. "You're it for me and I'm sorry for making you doubt that."

"You should be. I'm a goddamn prize, you know?" You told him with your tired tipsy rasp. You lifted yourself from his lap, sitting up to face him.

"Of course I do, Honey. You're a diamond, a pearl, a jewel," he grinned, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

"I love you," you said softly, looking into the eyes that finally felt familiar again.

"I love you too," he leaned forward, closing the short distance between you.

Masterlist

Harry Styles Masterlist

[bubbleguppyyy]

Encapsulated in Time: Pt. 3

Bucky x fem! reader

~ Surpriseee ~

Story Synopsis: Bucky knew something was missing from his memories. Something important, something special. He had tried everything to try and recover what it was, but he never could grasp anything. However, he never expected to find those missing memories in a file and an old box of videotapes.

Bucky sat on the floor next to his bed, his back resting against the side of it. Sleep refused to come to him. Very likely because of all the memories of you rushing through his head.

He turned and rubbed his face into the side of the mattress, trying to find some sort of comfortable position. He had been trying to sleep for hours now and he was starting to think he should just get ready for the day.

There was a sliver of moonlight shining through his blackout curtains, illuminating a picture of you he put on his bookshelf. Only your eyes and hair were highlighted.

Bucky always thought you had beautiful eyes. He could stare into them forever. The emotions and love they always held for anything and everything was truly a wonder.

He traces your temple with his eyes to the top of your head. He always loved how much shorter you were to him. He would always rest his arm on your head because you would get this adorable aggravated face and look up at him to tell him off. Ruffling your hair was another fun thing to do.

As Bucky stared more at the picture, a sudden realization came to him. He sat up quickly, scrambling to grab the photo. It’s the one of you and him sitting on a balcony somewhere, you smiling brightly while he simply stared at you.

He held the frame close to his face. Running his finger over your forehead.

He had realized that he didn’t remember where he shot you. He was supposed to shoot you in the middle of your forehead, killing you instantly. Except, he never received that order. You didn’t say execute, you just said “shoot.”

Hydra had programmed him to correlate simple words with actions. Shoot just meant to take a shot, it didn’t matter where. Execute meant to make sure there was a kill.

Had you done that on purpose? Did you bleed out in pain just because he took an order wrong?

Bucky whipped around, searching his room for his phone. He had thrown it early after the Avengers wouldn’t leave him alone.

He found it behind his dresser after having searched every other inch of his room.

His hands were shaking as he picked it up, barely typing the code in. Flipping through his contacts, he pondered what to say. When he came across the name he was looking for, he paused.

Did he really want to know?

He tapped the contact and waited, holding his breath.

“Barnes, you better have a damn good explanation as to why you’re calling me at this hour.”

Bucky wanted to laugh at Fury’s tone but he was barely holding it together.

“I apologize, sir, but what I need to know is very important. It could not wait until morning.”

Fury sighed from the other end, mumbling that Tony was rubbing off on Bucky.

“What is it?”

A lump formed in Bucky’s throat. He was scared, terrified even. If the answer to his question was what he thought it was, it could change the course of everything.

“Wa- was her body ever recovered and if so, where was she shot?”

Fury went silent, no sound of breathing or anything. Bucky strained his enhanced hearing but nothing came through. He started to think Fury thought he was crazy for asking that, or maybe he hung up.

Then, he heard the clacking of a keyboard. Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize was being held. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he waited for the director to say something.

5 minutes later, Fury finally speaks up.

“I have a request for the files to be pulled but they won’t be here until the morning, Barnes. Try to get some rest and I will call you the moment I know.”

Bucky simply said okay and gave his goodbye, hanging up immediately.

He tossed his phone onto his bed, watching it bounce around for a second. Looking over at the old box, Bucky decided that he wasn’t going to get any sleep.

Next thing Bucky knew, he had gone through half of the tapes in the common room. He couldn’t stop playing them, wanting to remember every song thing about you. Who you were, how you two met, why you chose him.

Your voice was engraved in his mind, creating a haze in his eyes. He was on a video he had taken of you as you got ready for the day. He could see part of himself in the mirror behind you, recorded in his hand.

You were swiping lipstick on when you caught his eyes through the mirror. He could’ve sworn the smile you gave him stopped his breathing. You turned to look at him, your eyes shining with love.

“How come you never let me take videos of you. I want to remember you as well, James.”

He huffed behind the camera, making you giggle. You turned back around and spritzed perfume on. Bucky remembers the exact scent you always used. A mix of almond, cocoa, and vanilla. He called you delectable, like a sweet treat.

The sound of his phone ringing snapped him out of his reverie. The contact on the screen caused his mood to drop. He looked out the window, noticing that it was early morning. He clicked accept.

“Is the Captain around?”

Bucky scrunched his face in confusion. Why would Steve need to be present for this? Of course, Stev decided that was the right moment to go on his run.

He saw Bucky and immediately got ready to ask what he was doing but Bucky just silenced him with a look, beckoning him over.

“Alright, he’s here. Now, what did you find, Fury?”

Steve sat next to him on the couch, giving Bucky a confused look. Bucky just shook his head at him, giving a look that said “I’ll explain later.”

“I hope you’re sitting down, because what I’m about to tell you might make you drop.”

[insertlatestfictionalcrushhere]

I'll see your heart, and raise you two

Pairing: Sevika x reader

Warnings: gambling? Suggestive ending…

Summary: You meet Sev at the last drop and play a game of cards with her. You’re noticeably good and this leads to more and more games between you two. One night, you run into each other randomly in Zaun and play a game that leads to more than a little cash…

A/N: DAMN it took me long enough to get the final part out. Sorry it took forever y'all. But I had fun writing and am glad that I could put this one to rest finally. Enjoyyy <3

Also I included the links to part 1 and 2 below but Idk how to properly include links LOL so idk how it looks to you but if it says "ya local queer whoring druid" thats my bio and idk why tumblr decided this is the correct -_-

Part 1:

Part 2:

--♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

The next few days passed quicky and you hoped that your consistent visits to the Last Drop weren’t seen as desperate. Unluckily to you though, Sevika hadn’t made an appearance, leaving you to be teased by Zeke for ‘waiting like a puppy’ as he so put it.

You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if you had pushed it too far and she found you to be annoying. Or perhaps you tapped her fragile ego a little too hard and now she was staying away because she didn’t want to lose again. What a loser, right? No that couldn’t be it. Maybe she was just busy. What if she has a girlfriend?

Zeke snapped his fingers, trying to pull you from your thoughts. You shook your head and scrunched your nose in anticipation of more jokes.

“You must be really hooked to be waiting so patiently. Was she that good?” he spoke, wriggling his eyebrows as he dried glasses.

“Better. She played exactly like a pro, and yet” you paused, tilting your head playfully, “..she lost.”

Zeke through his head back and laughed, returning back to your section of the bar. “Practically unheard of, no wonder you keep coming back here. You wanna do it again” You shrugged and pushed your glass towards him. “well word on the street is that she’s been out doing ‘business’ dealings for Silco and hasn’t had the time to stop in. Supposedly tonight, she’ll be here. Boss pulled out the good bottles of whiskey.”

Electricity shot through your body at the thought of another rousing game with Sevika. You thanked Zeke and traveled to the table, making yourself comfortable in the spot you previously occupied a few nights ago. Stirring your drink, you casually perused the crowd in hopes of seeing her. And as luck would have it, a few minutes later, she was seen walking your direction, the people naturally parting to make room as she passed them. You smiled and teasingly waved when she finally saw you already seated at her table.

“You want me that bad huh?” she greeted, motioning to a waiter to bring her the usual. You laughed and retorted “It’s hard to find that kind of satisfaction around here. Most don’t even make it 5 minutes”

She laughed back, taking the time to get comfortable and light her cigarette. The air wasn’t as thick or filled with tension and instead, was replaced with a new kind of warmth. The witty and flirtatious banter continued on as the cards were shuffled and dealt. It didn’t take long for both of you to sink into the game and focus intently on beating the other.

Another win on your behalf, had her stunned once more. Perhaps, you winning wasn’t just a fluke then. She was quick to reshuffle and deal, curiosity and a competitive energy rising in her. Some attempted to step in and play but a simple gruff look sent them fleeing. Her eyes didn’t leave you and you could feel her scanning every inch. Such behavior would normally demolish any focus you might’ve held and you felt the twinge of heat rush to your cheeks but the alluring idea of beating her was too powerful.

Eyebrows furrowed and several empty bottles of whiskey now sat towards the edge of the table. Your whole body was slumped comfortably in the chair, the confidence fully risen in your head. You smugly peeked above your cards at Sevika, who’s eyes stared right back at yours, her demeanor far less inviting. She made her final move, her eagerness to win all too apparent. You almost felt bad, your streak far longer than either of you expected. You smirked at her as you placed your final card, ending the game in your favor.

“Dammit!”

You jumped as she slammed her cards on the table, her frustration evident. Silence struck the club as your grip on your cards tightened cautiously eying her next move. You watched as she rubbed her hand against her forehead and through her hair. Sneaky glances at the loss of her usual calm demeanor caught the corner of your eye. You turned to glare at the heads that had turned, attempting to keep from drawing too much attention.

Without a further word, Sevika threw back the last inch of whiskey in her cup and stood up. You searched her face for that same playful smile or the hint of some flirty comment, but instead, were met with her cold shoulder as she turned towards the exit. Too stunned by her sudden outburst, you remained in your seat, hands cold as they limply held your last hand of cards.

Heads turned back to personal business, the noise level increasing back to normal. Unable to make sense of the events, you did your best to gather the cards and place them in a pile. You gathered the cups and empty bottles and headed towards the bar. Zeke swung by and gently grabbed the bottles, offering an apologetic smile.

You diverted your gaze to the dirty cups, wishing they would magically refill. “My fault. I kept winning and got far too smug about it.”

He pried the cups from your hands, placing them in the sink. “You played her fairly just as she did with everyone else, you just happened to be exceptional. Don’t feel bad, she acted irrationally.”

****

That night replayed in your mind and despite all your might, it didn’t stop. You obsessively questioned if you could have done something different to prevent that outcome but this only led to the inevitable answer that the past could not be undone. Why did it bother you? Cause you thoroughly enjoyed playing against her. No, really, why do you wish things had gone differently? Be honest with yourself. This wasn’t just some card game…

You wanted her.

“Your mind’s been in the gutter lately y/n. It’s getting out of hand and you need to fix it or I can’t have you working here anymore.”

That’s right, you got pulled out of rotation to get reprimanded. Realization hit that you had zoned out once again. You forced your eyes to meet your superior, playing up the guilty look on your face. The anger on his face should have hit harder and perhaps would’ve if this happened a week ago, but you found that like anything else lately, it simply rolled off your shoulders like rainwater.

You apologized profusely, begging to be given another chance as this was your only source of income. A small white lie of having to support some relatives and whatnot helped to win him over. Upon finishing his lecture, you thanked him and ran back to finish the day. Busy work – that’s what you concluded was necessary in order to shake off the night of the incident.

As the day finished, a few coworkers approached you, there arms beaten and bruised like yours; a hazardous yet common part of the trade. “Yo, y/n! We saw you get wrecked by big boss. What happened?”

You shook your head lightly “Agh, he was getting on me for not focusing much lately.”

“Ha! What a hard-ass, am I right? Don’t stress it, he doesn't know what he’s talking about.”

You offered a grateful smile, appreciative of their attempts to comfort you.

“Listen, the day beat the shit out of us so we were thinkin to hit the Last Drop. You down?”

The offer triggered your anxiety, the immediate thought of having to face Sevika flaring like a red alarm in your mind. You slowly took a shaky breath, and declined their offer. A queasy feeling settled in your stomach; you knew that you were running from a problem. What’s the harm in going into hiding forever? Keep your nose out of business, work hard, and thank the universe you even woke up each day. That was your current motto and you were sticking to it.

The walk home to your little brick apartment proved to be overwhelming and before you knew it, the light of the local liquor and goods shop washed upon your face. You cocked your head to the side, questioning if this was really the right choice to make. You still had work the following day, and given your already skewed reputation, you really did need to try your best and make a good choice for once.

Unfortunately, panic roared through you when you heard a familiar laugh bounce of the walls of the street you were on. It sounded scarily real as if she was nearby. You rubbed your arms “Oi, I really need a drink if I can imagine her laugh that accurately.” You hastily dashed inside the store in hopes the feeling would melt away. Ignoring the curious stares from a few other shoppers, you picked what you wanted, paid the store owner, and dipped.

The bottle sat nestled in your arms, offering a small amount of comfort in knowing it might help to ease your nerves. You clenched the bottle a little tighter as if it were a stuffed teddy, there to hug you back and calm your fears. Alas, it was cut short by the same familiar laughter ringing through your ears.

You immediately turned to find the source, a sense of déjà vu settling inside you. Much to your protest, your feet began moving before you could convince yourself otherwise. The smell of burnt ashes graced your nose before your eyes spotted the very person you had sworn to avoid.

Sitting casually at a shabby table on a few stacked crates was the very phantom of Zaun herself. She was in her natural habitat, a cigarette dangling off her plush lips while making absolute losers out of the man before her. He swore up and down, throwing cards down and nervously tapping his foot as if it would signal the fates to change the turn of luck in his favor. She laughed callously and boldly threw another card down, sending the poor man flying off his chair in anger. You watched as she calmly scraped the winnings towards her in response to his string of curses.

Your fingers brushed up and down against the bottle pressed tightly to your chest. The past week had been miserable and you couldn’t stand the thought of continuing into ambiguity, only to be remembered as that person that managed to anger Sevika in a club one night. The conscious in your mind raised its voice in hopes you would listen for once and not give into the alluring pull of Sevika and all that she presented.

Dashing back into the shadow just out of reach from the street lights, you ripped the top off the bottle of liquor and brought the opening to your mouth, letting the sweet liquid drain straight down your throat. The warm trail it left in your chest was a welcome feeling and you awaited the confidence that would soon silence the doubt you held in your mind. Turning back towards Sevika, you began walking; she was maybe only a few feet away and yet the distance seemed to draw on forever.

When she noticed you approaching, your heart stopped its continuous rapid rhythm and you swore you could feel each heart valve shrivel up and disconnect. The man who was previously unleashing a string of curses, turned to see what had caught Sevika’s attention. You cautiously eyed him, expecting that he might have a few choice words for you as well despite you having done nothing to him.

By this point, the liquor had done what you beckoned it to and the rush of confidence swirled throughout your mind and body, sticking the small, self-conscious you into a cage to be locked up tight and stowed away. You walked closer to the man and offered ‘solace’ to his losers rage “You thought that was bad, I would’ve bled you dry.”

The man’s mouth fell agape at your sudden savage comment, his hands balled up in fists but his body remained still. You couldn’t stop the smug smile that grew on your face, reeling in the stunned look on the man’s face. Registering your words, he moved to most likely try and make an example of you for so calmly insulting him. His motions didn’t make it far before a metallic arm grabbed hold, stopping him in his tracks.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave before I make you the street art people piss on.”

The man slowly peeked at Sevika, as if asking her how true the statement was. The grimace on her face said it all, and before more was exchanged, the man yanked his arm away and headed opposite from you. You watched as he walked away, ready to smile smugly again should he glance behind him. Admittedly, you were glad that Sevika had been there to stop the man as you were in no shape to really take on anyone at this moment.

“You gonna keep staring? I have a lot more to offer than he does, trust me.”

Her words hooked your attention and snapped you back to reality or at least close to it. You analyzed how in control you were post drowning drinking almost an entire bottle of liquor at once; the results came back negatively as you struggled to steadily walk towards the table. Amused by your lack of coherency, Sevika poured 2 cups of tequila and calmly pushed one your way.

You stared at the glass, contemplating the consequences of adding to your already inebriated system. “Fuck it all” you figured and threw the entire thing back. You looked Sevika squarely in the face and swallowed “I hope I didn’t offend you with all my winning the other night. Fact of the matter is, I really enjoyed playing against you and would be willing to overlook the incident and learn you a thing or two.”

The slur was ever so apparent and Sevika found the whole thing quite hilarious rather than rude. It hadn’t quite hit fully but you could’ve sworn that Sevika herself wasn’t entirely in control either, her right hand struggling to find the cigarette dangling off her lips. Not long after you, she followed suite and threw back her entire cup as well. “You teach me a thing or two in card playing, and I’ll show you a few tricks of my own...”

You might’ve been too drunk to notice the double meaning in her words and moved to grab the deck and begin shuffling. A brief look of surprise flashed across her face at you not quite understanding the weight of her words. Nonetheless, you both settled in your seats and geared up for another solid game of cards.

The sound of cards flicking against others, the light tap of glasses being picked up and placed back down, casual glances passed back and forth; you were both in the zone, focused on only each other and the game sat between you. You wished to close the gap but this idea sat firmly in the back seat as strategy did it’s best to control the game.

While the liquor hadn’t proved an obstacle before, it now proved to be your biggest. Your quality of play began to decline as the cards in your hands blended and blurred together. “shit shit shit. Come on y/n,  you cannot break now.”

Sevika smirked, her eyes barely catching the slight twitch in your face as you over analyzed your cards. The smooth pattern of play that she had grown accustomed to when playing against you had become ragged, your turns taking longer and longer. She was just as wasted as you but a long history of shaping Zaun was paired with learning to handle her alcohol.

The rotation landed back on you and with more of that ‘solid’ drunken confidence, you slapped your card down and raised your arms in triumph. You turned the entire filter in your head off, and proceeded to lean over the table, your hands displacing the pile of cards, as you crept closer to Sevika. You reached out and gently tapped her as you spoke “I. Win. Again.” Landing on her nose with a small boop.

Unfazed, she merely tilted her head slightly and cocked an eyebrow. The smile on your face began to sink as you racked your brain on why she looked as smug as she did. She reached down to the cards she was still holding in her hand, and pulled one out. You looked down, pondering why she was still attempting to play when you so very clearly won.

In what felt like slow motion, she leaned towards you, her face inching closer and closer. “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” your brain blazed in alarm. You couldn’t stop all the feelings that crashed around inside, your cheeks burning bright red in result. Was this it? Was it finally happening? Your breathing noticeably deeper and slowed, you prepared for the distance to close fully. Awaiting the fullness of her lips to greet yours, you remained still.

“No, I win.”

You looked down at the pile, eyes reaching the card she had placed. “But…” you muttered.

“You thought you one by playing that but I guess that your one fault is your inability to handle liquor. So I counteracted and ended the game forreal.”

With that she leaned back against the wall and relit her cigarette. You practically witnessed her ego grow tenfold. Too stunned to speak, you did your best to settle the heat that had risen in various areas and make sense of what had just transpired. How could you have missed that? Or made such an oblivious move? Was the liquor that strong? You began to sift through the pile, which might’ve been a little less than good sportsman ship, but her leaving the club the other night made it even. That’s what you told yourself anyway.

Everything else had grayed away and you didn’t realize just how zoned in you were when you felt a hand lift your chin and force your eyes to leave the now messy pile on the table. Your eyes connected with Sevika’s and it dawned that the hand that lifted you was in fact hers. Your brain wasn’t quite firing off on all cylinders right now.

“Just accept that I won. You could be spending your time doing much better things.” She purred, the bass in her voice gently caressing your ears.

You couldn’t help yourself in this current position, and let your eyes fall from her eyes to her lips. It felt as if time stopped completely and right now, it was just you and her. You looked back up to her eyes and whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Then claim your prize.”

[healingtheworldwithboburnham]

Ineffable Husbands x Taylor Swift (pt 5)

My favorite duo with my favorite sister albums, folklore and evermore. Pain.

exile - “And it took you five whole minutes, to pack us up and leave me with it, holding all this love out here in the hall [street]. I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending. You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town, now I’m in exile seeing you out.” [I CAN ALREADY SEE THE EDITS TO THIS ONE, SOMEONE GET TO WORK]

invisible string - [once they get their happy ending] “Hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven. Time, wondrous time, gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies. And it’s cool, baby, with me. And isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

peace - “But I’m a fire, and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come. All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret. The devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me. Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

hoax - “My only one. My kingdom come undone. My broken drum. You have beaten my heart. Don’t want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do.” [you are the only one i would let hurt me vibes]

the lakes - “Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong, and my beloved, neither do you. [my beloved Angel, we don’t belong in Heaven or Hell. Let’s go to the lakes] Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry. I’m setting off, but not without my muse. No, not without you.” [does it ever hurt that so many times Crowley was going to set off to Alpha Centauri but he wouldn’t go without his angel, but his angel flitted off to heaven without him? AND IK Aziraphale would never soberly do this, but Crowley thinks he did.]

champagne problems - “You had a speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches, and I couldn’t give a reason. Champagne [Almond Coffee?] problems.”

gold rush - cus they’re both so damn beautiful

no body, no crime - [joke because this is my headcanon abt what will happen when Crowley finds out what Metatron did (if he did do something) to Aziraphale]

coney island - “Were you waiting at our old spot [rendezvous point 3] in the tree line, by the gold clock? Did I leave you hanging every single day?

cowboy like me - “Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon. With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con. I’ve had some tricks up my sleeve. Takes one to know one, you’re a cowboy like me. And I’m never gonna love again.”

long story short - “Missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to. When I dropped my sword, threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door. And we live in peace, but if someone comes at us, this time I’m ready. ‘Cause I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole. Long story short, it was a bad time.”

evermore - “I rewind the tape but all it does it pause, on the very moment all was lost [if gabriel and beelzebub can do it…] sending signals to be double-crossed… And I couldn’t be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore.”

right where you left me - “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Break ups happen every day you don’t have to lose it. She’s still 23, inside her fantasy, and you’re sitting in front of me. At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want, cross-legged in the dim light.” [A part of both of them will never leave that moment in the bookshop until they make up]

[justfor2am]

life's a drag, so make it a show!

Trans Sides Week Tuesday Prompt: Discovery/Coming Out/Acceptance

Word Count: 2642

TWs: occasional swearing

@transsidesweek Read it on Ao3! Summary: Roman's life isn't exactly all glitz and glamor. It's terribly dull at times, to the point that he picks up a little hobby along the way. And it's fun, and it's wild, and he's never known to feel so at home in his skin with this much glitter, but he's not complaining. It's telling his friends that make the whole ordeal so much more... real. Or, Roman plays twister with his gender and Janus finds out in the most convoluted way possible.

.

.

.

Life was a constant blur. Roman's day started at 5 a.m. and would end at ten if he was lucky. He usually wasn't lucky. It wasn't his fault that being a law intern was so hectic, he'd be lucky if he made partner of the firm in the next ten years.

And sure, maybe going to law school and taking five years to graduate instead of three didn't help his growth, and maybe this wasn't what he'd planned to do with his life at all, but rent wasn't cheap and Roman wanted out of this house ASAP and at least the salary was constant.

In the end, Roman could deal with the cramped apartment and the long hours and even the loneliness of coming home to a bed for one.

Because he had a secret that made it all worthwhile.

On Friday nights he was always the last to leave his work. He'd take the 11 p.m bus going south towards the heart of the city, far away from his dingy apartment and the dull life of office work to a sea of vibrant colors, of bars and strip clubs and gaiety lining the streets.

And he always found himself at 4140 Rosalie Way, the busiest bar on the block.

Its name was Dionysus Indulgence, and every Friday and Saturday night, posters filled the window with the same face.

They read: "Weekend Show Headliner! Vixen Venus for a 2 A.M Rendezvous!!"

Vixen wasn't actually part of the name, it was just Venus, but for some reason adding that to the front sold more tickets. At this point it might as well be his name.

Roman would scurry into the backrooms, already halfway undressed from the waist up and quick to pick his outfit for the night, organize his set list of songs, do his makeup (his eyebrows were always a bitch and a half to get flat) and find someone to make sure his wig was secure in the back.

Drag was an escape from the real world. Here he wasn't an overworked law intern in dull black or grey suits, he was Venus, Queen of the planet of love, an Empress who took no shit from no man (unless he had change to spare.)

Sometimes in the brief pauses between running, Roman wonders if it were possible to step away from manhood altogether. But there was never enough time to let the thought properly brew.

Besides, he had two hours to get his act together and god knows makeup alone would take up nearly two-thirds of it.

So he never indulged in the thought of transition long, or ever considered it really. He focused on taking in every moment on the stage, surviving on the thrill of cheers and applause from an adoring crowd. Life couldn't get much better than this.

It was yet another Friday night, and Roman tapped his foot impatiently staring at the clock. There was still a hour until he could escape, and time seemed to drag on forever.

His cell phone buzzed, and with a glance at the caller I.D. answered it. "Jay you know I'm at work, can it wait?" he cut in, turning his attention back to the spreadsheet on his desktop monitor.

"Well you've skipped out on my calls all week, I think I can bother you at work for five minutes," a cool voice crackled over the line.

Roman groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, sorry, this week's just been a lot. Work and all that," he said.

"Which is exactly why I'm calling. You need a break, have some fun," the voice purred. "Listen, I finally got tickets to that drag show downtown, Vixen Venus? You were a huge drama nerd in high school so I figured you'd like drag—"

"Lies and you know it—"

"Whatever. It was a pretty penny to get these tickets for tonight's show, and you're coming with me."

Roman sighed, it wasn't the first time that he'd been caught between reality and fantasy. "Sorry, to burst your bubble Lying McPhee, but I can't tonight. I've got to stay late and get a report turned in, it's going to be an all-nighter situation."

"Oh my god, you are married to that job and it's killing me. Ro I haven't seen you in almost a month, you've bail on brunch with me every Sunday so far, you don't come to game night with the rest of us anymore, you don't go out, you don't take breaks, it's like you're a completely different person after getting this stupid job." Roman pulled the phone away from his ear, letting Janus rant to the air instead of him.

"You need to slow down. You'll burn out at this rate." If it wasn't for how sharp his tone sounded, Roman would almost think Janus really cared.

"Listen," Roman started, but now it was his turn to be cut off.

"No, you listen to me. I am coming to pick you up from your stupid job and you and I are going to go have a good time at this club, you hear me? And I know you get off at midnight so don't even try to flake out on me."

Roman smiled to himself. It seems being a workaholic had its perks, that being no one knew his real hours. Putting on the mopiest tone he could muster, "God, fine, alright, can you at least let me finish what I'm working on then? Because if you're just going to yak at me until you get here then I really will have to stay late."

"Deal. Midnight, outside, and don't you dare try running away."

"Midnight. I promise."

When midnight rolled around, Janus was unsurprised to see Roman no where to be found, but was still a little annoyed. Knocking his head against the steering wheel in frustration, Janus made a beeline for Roman's apartment, banging on the door (and when that didn't work, picking the lock) only to find the place empty.

"Okay, totally not suspicious, he has literally no other hobbies so there's nowhere else he could be," Janus muttered aloud, checking his cell for messages.

Roman's phone buzzed half a city away, where he sat in front of a vanity baking his face. He glanced at it, cringing before sending a hasty text to avoid a phone call.

'sorry!!! forgot today was shopping day and i had some dry cleaning to pick up. another time i promise :('

Janus groaned, stomping out of the apartment and texted another contact saved as V.

'ro bailed on me you wanna go see venus @ the d.i? i got tickets'

'sure lol i'm already at the strip. meet u there in 30 tho i've gotta talk with my bassist'

He sighed, pocketing his phone and heading back to his car. If Roman wouldn't come have fun, that wasn't stopping Janus, he'd make his own goddamn fun.

He texted Vera the spare ticket details before entering the club himself a short drive later, quick to have a drink in hand and relax a bit before the show. It was only 1 a.m., so there was an entire hour to kill before the performance.

Janus was never the type to go clubbing, but he made exceptions for his friends.

Eventually though there came the search for the bathroom, something that generally never went well in a packed club full of drunken strangers. Throwing back the final sips of his drink, Janus made the push to weasel his was through the crowd, finding himself at some sort of stairwell leading to a lower level with more doors.

Not one for asking directions (he knew exactly where he was going, thank you very much,) Janus nosed around downstairs, entirely amused at the flurry of performs in various states of undress, from a younger looking queen yanking on stilettos teetering down the hall, to someone yanking on their wig cap in men's trousers and a glittery sequin top.

With all the confidence and grace of someone lightly tipsy with a resting bitch face, Janus sauntered around still in search of a bathroom, before his ears picked up an annoying familiar voice.

Creeping around a corner, he stood to the side of an unmarked dressing room, peering in through the gap of the unlocked door. It was hard to see, but by the looks of it there was only one person inside, hurriedly shuffling through what he assumed were eye shadow pallets from what Janus could tell. All the while the person muttered loudly to themself, an endless stream-of-conscious sort of ramble.

"….and I've got to get that dumb report turned in by Monday, but I'll be damned if I post-pone tomorrow night I need that show. I should've brought my laptop here, ugh, maybe I can get someone to go to my apartment for me…?"

"Is that so?" In one broad swing of the arm, Janus shoved the door open, blinking in visible surprise at the state Roman was in.

Dressed in a full body black mesh suit from his torso to his hips, red glitter decorated his tights to hide the hip inserts, coupled with thigh-high shiny leather boots with a terrifying heel. His biceps were doused in glitter too, truly there was no part of himself that wasn't glimmering in some sort of fashion. A pair of boob inserts lay innocent on the vanity table, the rest messily covered in well-used make up products with a wig rack propped up haphazardly to the left of it. In his right hand was indeed an eye shadow pallet like Janus had suspected, coupled with a brush in his left held in a white-knuckle grip.

The two stared at each other, Janus' jaw slack in surprise (sure, he'd heard Roman talking, but he didn't really think he'd be in here,) and Roman tight-lipped, a flushed, embarrassed heat rising up to his face.

"Of all the side jobs to have," Janus said, after a painfully long pause, "this is somehow the one that suits you the most that I'd never thought you'd have."

Roman, still pink in the cheeks, slowly lowered the pallet, now fiddling with the brush handle in his left hand. "I— I, you weren't supposed to know." His eyes dragged down to the other's feet, darting across the floorboards.

To Janus, this was alarming behavior. Roman? Embarrassed by something queer and fun? That did not track at all. "Huh? Why? Am I supposed to be bothered that you're living a full and exciting life, not just slaving away at a desk 24/7?"

Still the other did not look up at him, now rolling the brush between his hands. "I don't know, I didn't think you would've… believed me. Like, of all people, I'm the one who couldn't do this. Or, I guess, shouldn't."

Now it was Janus' turn to be embarrassed, taking a spot on the cluttered loveseat decorated with spare stockings. "Of course you could do something like this. You're Roman Astor, you once did pull-ups from the theater lighting rig for twenty dollars and only got suspended for a week. You dressed up in a tutu and plastic fairy wings to run around the school for every SGA donation drive. Hell, you passed the football team try outs and turned down your leading position because practice would cut into the fall theater production."

The stories coaxed a small smile from Roman, and he gradually stopped twirling the brush.

"You've done arguably crazier things for years, why would I think you couldn't be a star?"

Roman turned to look at the wig rack, his wide assortment from years of collecting. "Because even for me, this is out there. And don't even—" he cut Janus off before another monologue could start, "you said your piece so I'm saying mine."

With a nervous swallow, "you can't say that doing some silly stunts when I was sixteen compared to dressing up like a woman and doing aerial inverts on a stripper pole covered in body glitter at 25 are the same thing. I could barely take being gay when I was outed, now this? It's… I just wanted to avoid that conversation," he mumbled.

"Besides," he ranted on, "I have a real job now with serious people that I can't risk losing because of some weird fantasy I have of, I don't know, gender swapping or whatever. It's dumb, and it's not going to last, so I just wanted to make the most of the time I had left before I really am trapped at that nightmare of a worksite. Is that so much to ask?"

From where he sat, Janus felt like he was thirteen again, sitting across his once-enemy in the way only children could, learning for the first time that being queer was something they shared, and something they feared. Something to be ashamed of.

But they weren't thirteen anymore. Maybe the attacks didn't stop, or the self-loathing get much better, but they had survived. And from the few things he'd heard of Roman's performances, and the way he saw him now, Janus knew damn well that this was more than just a hobby. This was Roman's way of living past survival.

He wasn't about to let the other give up on that.

"Six weeks," Janus said.

Roman glanced up at him, confusion tugging him out of his mental spiral. "Huh?"

"It's taken me six weeks to get tickets to this show. That's a testament to how popular you are, and how damn badly I wanted to see you perform, without even knowing it was you. And in that time, I've come to see a couple other people perform, and it seems to me like this is their full-time job, it's what drives them the most at the end of the day."

Janus reached for Roman's hands, clasping them in his own. "You don't have to know who you are or what you want right now. You don't have to ever, really. But this makes you happy, so who cares if you're in a wig or not? You'd look damn good in one," he tacked on, and Roman stifled a small laugh.

"You can be Roman, or Venus, or someone new entirely if you want. So long as it brings you joy, the rest of the world can suck it."

"Then…" Roman bit at his lip, in serious mental discussion with himself. "I want to be Rosalie. Not all the time, just right now. But, in a neutral way? I don't know how any of this works—"

"Girl, neither do I," Janus laughed. "But it's a pleasure to meet you Rose."

Rosalie beamed, their sunny disposition peering through their formerly gloomy, panicked mood. "Jay, you're incredible. I need you to leave."

Janus balked. He was almost pissed. "I just hyped you up so fucking good, and you're booting me? You bitch."

Rosalie laughed, "Jay I have twenty minutes to finish getting dressed and the wig takes ten of those twenty. Yes, I am kicking you the hell out. How'd you even get downstairs anyways, patrons aren't supposed to be down here?"

"Anything's possible with a mean glare and a bitchin' strut," Janus sighed, letting go of Rosalie's hands, popping them on his hips. "You'd better get ready then, I didn't buy front row tickets for nothing."

Janus turned on his heel to leave, stopping at the doorway. "R? I did invite Vera since you bailed, do you want me to—?"

"Let her guess, if she figures it out then you two can come next week for free," they laughed, already back to fixing their make up.

"God, you're more of a money hound than I am," Janus muttered, a matching grin on his face.

Laughter was easiest when everyone was in on the joke.

[arabellaflynn]

Advent Calendar 15: Great Movie! When Do We Play?

Greetings, and welcome to Advent Calendar 2022! This year we're being self-indulgent and rambling about video games.

As usual, the Advent Calendar is also a pledge drive. Subscribe to my writing Patreon here today for at least $5/mo and get an e-card for Ratmas; subscribe for $20/mo (and drop me a mailing address) and you'll get a real paper one!

I hope you're all having a happy winter holiday season. Let the nerd rambling commence!

The wonderful thing about putting games on optical discs is that you can include as much full-motion video as you want! The terrible thing about putting games on optical discs is also that you can include as much full-motion video as you want. 

The first FMV games were constructed not by leveraging the capacity of a CD-ROM to add video to a computer program, but by grafting a simple program onto the video format. LaserDiscs are a non-contact medium. Unlike video tapes, which are worn by every pass across the playback heads, an LD can be played through repeatedly or left paused on a single frame forever without damage to the disc. The first LD game, Astron Belt, was a shoot-'em-up that took advantage of this longevity to display a detailed background sourced from the LaserDisc, while the computer part took care of overlaying everything that might change from playthrough to playthrough, like the player ship, hazards, and messy explosions when you crashed into a wall.

Soon, however, games emerged which took advantage of the control features built into LaserDisc players to give a more directly interactive experience. The disc specifications include encoded frame numbers, and players could seek to any frame on the disc on command, which allowed for "seamless" branching during video playback. (In practice, it took the laser a little while to move; the discs were also ungodly heavy and some of them rotated at different speeds for different sections of the disc, so acceleration/deceleration might also cause a noticeable hitch.) In 1983, Cinematronics published Dragon's Lair, an arcade game cobbled together out of quick button presses and video clips animated by the legendary Don Bluth, whose recent split from Disney was acrimonious enough to deserve its own article. It was quickly followed by Space Ace, which was more of the same, only with lasers instead of dragons.

Gameplay in these titles was minimal at best. The idea was that at certain points in the video, the player character would run into a hazard, and you had to smash the correct button to get him out of it. Your choices were generally limited to left/right/up/down/hit something. This paradigm still happens in modern games, where it's known as a Quick Time Event and is generally hated by everyone. It comprises the entirety of Dragon's Lair's gameplay, and everybody thought it was boffo at the time, because the animation quality was exactly what you'd expect from Don Bluth, and no other system displayed such clear, vivid full-screen video on an arcade monitor. It looked like you were playing a movie.

'Playing a movie' sounded like such a good idea to everyone else that they immediately set about trying to reproduce the effect at home. It took ten years, and results were... mixed.

In keeping with human nature, the first thing game makers brought to the home-FMV genre was something they pretended was not softcore porn. Night Trap for the Sega CD, although it technically qualified as a game, was mainly an excuse to show the player attractive women in flimsy nightgowns. This pissed off a lot of people to the point of Congressional hearings. It pissed off other people to the point of not buying the game, not because of the offensive boobies, but because it wasn't any fun. Viewers found it annoying to hit a button every few minutes to make their movie continue, and players found it annoying to wait through a movie before they could hit buttons.

Efforts to integrate video and gameplay generally floundered until home games made the jump to CD-based formats, at which point it took off like a rocket. Japanese console RPGs had long been refining a format that rewarded lengthy segments of gameplay -- like, say, clearing a dungeon and defeating the big boss monster at the end -- with a 'cutscene', or a scripted scene of character interaction that advanced the story and set up the next plot point. On consoles like the SNES or Sega Genesis, these had been presented either in the game engine or as still frames accompanied by written dialogue. With the Sega CD/Sega Saturn and Sony Playstation offering as much storage space as you were willing to press discs, these scenes could instead be produced as animated or pre-rendered video, complete with audio tracks. The example that brought the JRPG to the North American masses was 1997's Final Fantasy VII, which crashed onto the scene with three full CDs of content, including an ending movie that lasted nearly twenty minutes and took up most of the third disc. Similar paradigms were incorporated into PC CD-ROM games like Wing Commander, which alternated gameplay missions with live-action story scenes featuring Mark Hamill, who is a national treasure.

Like most other cool things, this ballooned to the point of excess. Console JRPGs were the worst offenders here; Xenosaga for the PS2 was very pretty and inscrutable enough to satisfy all the Evangelion fans out there, but the main complaint about it was the amount of time you spent with the controller on your lap just watching characters do stuff without you. The game was just shy of 40 hours for the main story, 60ish for 100% completion with all bonuses, and a solid seven hours of that is non-interactive cutscene. And that's Part One of Three, a Lord of the Rings director's cut of a story that basically nobody ever finished.

We seem to have backed off a bit, perhaps because mobile gaming has destroyed everyone's attention spans. More recent games have taken advantage of the better rendering capabilities of both PCs and consoles to incorporate scripted elements into the gameplay directly, no longer having to pause the interactivity and load up a video file to tell the story. First-person shooters, led by Half-Life and Mass Effect, have gotten oddly good at giving you exposition while you are blasting away at things.

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[andysbubba]

Loving you

Andy Barber x Gender neutral (?) reader

-> the one where you’re tired of andy’s igorance towards himself

Note: Angst diffusing into fluff, the typical andy-kitchen scene i used in my candlelight loving fic— except there’s no smut, ++ feedbacks welcomed as always! and reblogs and likes are more than appreciated <33

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

~h

-

“Andy, baby. Will you please take a break?” You exasperatedly sigh when you see Andy still hovering over his desk in his study after the fifth time you told him to take some time to rest.

“I know, I know. Just a little more, honey. I’ll join you in bed in a bit, okay?” He only looked up at you for barely a second to reply before his eyes were back on the stacks of case studies and folders on his desk.

Truth be told, you were completely done with his bullshit.

You huff in frustration, rolling your eyes the slightest bit and muttering to yourself as you distanced yourself from Andy’s home office with full annoyance. “Fucking lawyers.”

Andy’s been fully hung up on work ever since one of his co-workers took a vacation off work just last week. Meaning that his already-extensive workload just got an upgrade. Also meaning that he’d drag his workload home and continue working his ass off in his study. Which really- there’s nothing wrong with your boyfriend being all diligent and assiduous.

But it really doesn’t seem all that glorifying when you’re the one having to deal with all his crap. You could’ve probably list down all the times he put fucking paperwork above you, and the list would probably have been as long as Article 1.

Unbeknownst to you, Andy caught onto what you said right before you left his study. He felt guilty, alright. All he’s done is to be a complete work-addict while you’re out there being the best lover one can ever ask for. And all he wants to do is to chase after you and apologize and stay in bed and order in pizza with you. But the never ending workload on his desk was the one thing keeping him away from having you all snug in his chest.

He shakes his head, eyes glancing back down at his work. He was beyond exhausted, the pot of coffee you made him and the hope that the earlier he wraps his work up, the earlier he can shower you with all the love you deserved, was his only motivation to keep reading though the files and trying to get as much work done.

-

You groggily rubbed your eyes as you tried to feel around the sheets for Andy. And honestly? You weren’t even surprised that he wasn’t there. It was 7 in the morning, and it was too early for Andy to be up if he actually went to sleep last night. You could only assume that he never even went to bed, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

You head out to his study, the door’s still opened as it was yesterday and the faint noise of keyboard clicking tells you that Andy’s still working inside.

“Babe?” You knocked on the wooden door, trying to get his attention.

Andy’s hunched in his seat, eyes switching between his laptop and the files from time to time as he typed. He glances up at you, just a little surprised.

“Did you get some sleep, honey?” You asked, even though you knew you’d only receive the answer you dreaded so much.

He glances at the digital clock on the wall, only realising that it’s been 6 hours since you last came in to check on him. He scratches the back of his neck as he shook his head and mentally cursed himself. “I—”

He considered lying, but he already felt as bad for leaving you to sleep alone the whole night and breaking his promise on joining you in bed. And knowing you, you’d probably see right through his lies anyway.

You sigh, shaking your head and disappointedly rubbing your face. “I swear to god, Andrew—” You turned away before you could allow yourself to get even more pissed at him. Which most probably would’ve been impossible.

Caffeine. God— caffeine sounds fucking amazing right now.

-

Andy’s beyond guilty. So much more than what he felt yesterday. And his heart burns when he sees you so disappointed and pissed at him. The kind of pain where it feels like it’s being crushed and squashed.

He didn’t even realise that he went a whole night of work without sleep. Nor did he realise the time. Or that he forgot to keep his promise to join you in bed. Or the fact that he never paid attention to you for more than 5 minutes in the last 10 hours. Or that he didn’t join you for dinner. Or— okay, the list is long alright. And Andy knows he’s hurt you- the one person who’s patient enough to deal with him and the one person he loves above anything else in the goddamn world.

He ditched his laptop and stood up. Stretching his legs and working out the kinks in his muscles.

Andy trailed behind your footsteps, leaving his study for the first time in almost a day. It really took you to be angry at him just to get him out of the study. Andy knows his sorry isn’t enough. And you truly deserved every right to be pissed at him.

You were sorting your morning tea out when he came into the kitchen. Andy couldn’t help but smile fondly at you- or rather, your back really. For goodness sake, Andy’s head over heels in love with you. With every inch of you from head to toe. It is truly indescribable.

He steps up behind you, arms wrapping around your shoulders, and his chin resting on the tiny area joining your shoulder and your neck.

“Hi, baby,” He pressed a soft kiss on where his chin was before.

He wasn’t surprised that you stayed silent and continued doing your own thing. He knows damn well he deserves the silent treatment, alright.

“Honey,” He trails off as his thumbs rubbed circles on both sides of your shoulder. “Talk to me please, baby.”

You let out a heavy sigh, unwilling to turn and look at him, but you knew stirring tea wasn’t enough to occupy the next 3 minutes of your life, let alone the next few hours.

Andy turns you around by your shoulders, one hand shifting your mug to the side so he doesn’t accidentally mess up more and end up spilling hot tea all over you. He picks you up by your sides and sets you down softly on the counter.

His head was around your chest level now. As much as Andy wanted to bury his head in your chest and stay there forever, he knows he has to say something because you definitely won’t say it first. He takes your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his pretty blue eyes staring up at you the whole time.

One look and you know he’s sorry. His watery eyes bring you to that conclusion.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He sighs, guiltily holding your palm up to the side of his face. “I know I hurt you. I was just so focused on the case that I didn’t even realise I hurt you, baby. You deserve all the right to be mad at me and ignore me and- fuck. I really messed up, Y/n.”

Andy shakes his head, “I just thought that if I wrapped up all my work, I’d have more time with you.” He chuckles humourlessly. “I know what I did was wrong, baby. You gave me more than enough chances yesterday but I messed up every one and I left you.”

He glances into your eyes desperately, his hand gripping onto your palm on his cheek tightly. You know it’s a silent plea for you to respond and do that thing he loves about your touch.

You find yourself surrendering to his silent plea, and your thumb brushed the side of his face. Soft and repeatedly. The comfort it brought Andy was beyond words. He leaned into your palm, seeking more of your touch.

“You’ve been nothing but understanding and caring and I just kept on taking advantage of that.” Andy was grateful he had someone as amazing as you. “ I’m so sorry I hurt you, honey. I know I j- just completely left you alone— and shit, you don’t deserve that, my love.” The crack in his voice broke your resolve.

You breathed deeply, bringing your other palm up to the other side of his face. “Baby, you really don’t get it, do you?” You paused, searching his eyes before realising that Andy didn’t truly understand why you were upset in the first place. “Andy, everytime I came up to check on you— that was for you. I wanted you to get some rest, honey. You looked exhausted every single time I came in, and I hated that you just ignored your own health.”

“You skipped dinner, bub.” Your hands shifts down to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. “All this overworking and sleepless nights— I just wish you’d take care of yourself more, Andy.”

Andy sighs, hands shifting down to your hips and he leans in, burying his head in the middle of your chest.

You felt his lips moving against your his shirt as he murmured. “I know, ‘m sorry.” Andy inhaled deeply, your natural, comforting scent piercing through his nose. “I missed you, bubba,”

You run a hand through his hair. “I missed you too, love.” You lean down and kissed the top of his head. “You wanna go wash up or get some rest while I heat up yesterday’s dinner?”

“Wanna stay just like this.” He mumbled into the fabric of your his shirt.

You laughed heartily, “Go nap on the couch, Barbie.” He pulls away from your chest. “Or at least, please go brush your teeth. I’ll fix up somethin’ for you.”

“And sleep with me after?” He arched a brow, and you took the time to scan over Andy’s face. He looks so fucking exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes and the barely noticeable strands of gray hair among the luscious black is a simple message that he was stressed. And god, you wanted nothing more than to take care of him and make sure he’s all healthy and— lord.

“Anything you want, baby. As long as you don’t step foot in the study till tomorrow afternoon.” You pressed your forehead against his, lips touching into an easy kiss.

You were both exhausted— Andy with his lack of sleep and you having to worry over him almost every 45 minutes. You both needed the rest. And some time together where it’s just the two of you and no one else exists.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[finelinevogue]

Omg yes of course! Though I would like to see a dad Harry or a wedding related blurb and/or imagine :))

Have a great day!!

dadrry is my favourite! let’s go!!

September 14th. The dreaded day.

This day had been a long time coming and one that you hadn’t properly prepared yourself for. Harry was very relaxed about it all, teasing you when you cried for being such a wuss. Your emotions just seemed to overrule your mind and the tears were out once more.

“I don’t want her to!” You sobbed against Harry’s chest like a big ol’ baby.

Both of you were cuddled up on the couch, you snuggled tight into Harry’s side. His arm was around you back and laying rest on your waist, whilst he constantly gave you forehead kisses to soften your cries. The TV was playing some quiz show, but neither of you were watching anymore.

“Lovie, she has to.” Harry softly laughed at how ridiculous you were being, but at the same time keeping himself strong because he, too, wanted to cry now.

“But she’s too young!” You whined louder than a 3 year old being denied sweets.

“Y/N, love, she’s five. It’s time okay?”

“No. She’s my little girl.” You pouted, tears in your eyes but no longer streaming down your face.

“And she still is your little girl. Mine too. She’s just going to little people school now,” Harry kisses your cheek as you looked up at him, “she’s going to learn so many new and exciting things, yeah? She’ll make so many friends - if she’s anything like her parents, which believe me she is.”

You laughed at his attempt to cheer you up a bit. You weren’t ready to admit to yourself that your baby was going to school. It felt like yesterday you were taking her home from the hospital and beckoning to her every cry, now she was so independent for a 5 year old that you sometimes felt useless.

“She’ll be graduating university before we know it.”

“Baby, I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there!” Harry chuckled, catching a tear from the corner of your eye and wiping it on his joggers.

“Maybe.” You rolled your eyes in agreement with him, but not wanting to admit that out loud.

You tucked your head back against his chest and hugged him tighter, not wanting to feel like you were losing anyone else. You hiccuped your cries away as you finished watching the end of the crappy TV show, before going to bed together and dreading the next day.

••••

“Uh oh.”

The house was frantic this morning and it really didn’t need to be. You were preparing Poppy’s snacks for the day, whilst Harry was double checking the checklist for things she needed and Poppy was eating her breakfast. Well, trying to eat her breakfast.

“Oh Poppy!” You sighed when you saw that the milk from her cereal had gone all over her jumper. Luckily, you were a prepared mum and had bought two of everything. “Ok arms up.” You told her and she did, pausing herself from her Coco Pops.

You threw the dirty jumper into the washing machine and pulled out a clean one from the airing cupboard.

“Here, let me.” Harry offered, seeing as you were still cutting up fruit and vegetables for her.

“Thank you.” Kissing him on the lips before getting back to your station.

“Alright little miss, arms up.” Harry ordered his daughter. “You’re a right messy eater aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” Poppy said, quite flat and quiet.

“Hey Hops, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Harry had forever called his daughter Hops as a nickname, because when she was first trying to say her name she couldn’t pronounce the ‘P’ so would call herself ‘Hoppy’ instead.

Poppy looked down at her cereal as Harry was adjusting the jumper on her accordingly.

You were quietly putting the snacks inside a container as you listened to their conversation.

“Just scared daddy,” she pouted, “I don’t think i’ll make many friends.”

“Hops, listen to me,” Harry made his daughter look at him and crouched down on the floor - so he was now looking up at her, “you’re going to have the best time of your life in school, okay? You’re going to make so many friends and every day is going to be an adventure—”

“Like the ones me and you have, daddy?” Poppy asked excitedly, making you smile to yourself.

“Exactly like that, baby. Except they won’t be as good, because I won’t be there.”

“Well I don’t want them to be as good if you’re not there.” Poppy cupped her dads cheek so softly, it brought tears to Harry’s eyes.

Pull it together, Harry thought.

“You’re going to be safe there Hops, and you’ll just love it.”

“Okay daddy.” She nodded. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now go brush your teeth and then we’ll go.” Poppy hopped off the chair and went upstairs to brush her teeth - carefully this time.

•••••

Harry just had to bring his fucking huge Range Rover.

You would’ve been quite happy to turn up in your civil Mini Cooper, but no. Harry said first day impressions are the most important and so ‘go big or go home’.

As Harry finally found a parking space big enough to to fit his asshole car in, you were finally at your destination. The first trip to this school of many.

“Alright baby, let’s do this.” You had no idea whether Harry had said that to you or Poppy, but both of you listened and began to climb out of the car. Poppy waited for Harry to open her door and hoist her out of the car - seeing as this stupid car was far too high up for her to climb.

Could you tell you hated this showy car?

Poppy took ahold of both your hands, walking in between you both. She was happily humming to herself whilst you and Harry sussed out the playground. Some children were stood cowered behind their parents legs and some were already playing tag with each other by the swings.

The sound of screaming children was so loud, but it created an atmosphere of happy chaos.

“You okay Hops?”

“Yep!” Poppy was more than excited now - she just wanted the day to start.

You and Harry went to go and stand over by some other parents who were just as lost as your family was.

“Hi? Excuse me,” you waited for them to turn around, smiling with happy faces - their daughter stood behind one of her dad’s legs in fear, “do you know where the Reception students are supposed to go right now?”

“Someone said they’d be out in five minutes to round them all up, I think.” One dad spoke back.

“Thank you!” You reached out your hand to shake theirs, “Hi i’m Y/N Styles. This is my husband, Harry and my daughter Poppy.”

“Nice to meet you. Archie and Felix Johnson. This our daughter, Millie.”

Everyone introduced themselves by shaking hands, but what surprised you all was the interaction between your two, seemingly, timid daughters.

“Hi Millie! Would you like to be my friend?” Poppy walked up to her and asked politely. Millie had appeared from behind her parents and excitedly nodded her head in yes.

•••••

After school Poppy was a bundle of energy and happiness. She couldn’t wait to talk about her day with her two favourite people.

“So how was school then, sweetheart?” You asked her on your car journey back home.

“It was so really good,” her grammar not being entirely correct, but you not having the heart to correct her yet, “and there’s this boy in my class…”

As she continued to talk you looked to Harry with a smirk, seeing his face full of disgust and soft anger. Harry spoke one final time, before your attention was fully dedicated to Poppy.

“She’s moving schools.”

[mercy-burning]

The 13th Hour

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer conduct a 12-hour sexual experiment Category: SMUT (this isn’t as hardcore as it could have been, but it’s still explicit, so 18+ only) Warnings: Some language, Sex (edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, female receiving oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare) Word Count: 3.8k

Full Request: “...Okay... Spencer running a little experiment on you, seeing how many times he can edge you... and then how many times he can make you cum, being all clinical and scientific about it, I just can’t get the idea out of my head! Congrats on 1k🥰🥰🥰” — @bluesunrise02

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I’ve read something similar to this before, but I can’t for the life of me remember whose post it was, so if any of you remember, or know of another concept like this, please let me know! I hope this isn’t too similar, I did try to make it a little different than what I remember from the other fic. I hope you enjoy it! Also, DISCLAIMER! I’m... not really sure if it’s realistic for this to happen in 12 hours, so excuse me if that’s a little out there. I hope it’s okay!

***

HOUR 1

It was something the two of you had talked about before, but with both your crazy schedules, it was hard to find the time. But once there was a weekend where you and Spencer realized you both had off, there was no question about it. This was your time.

There was a notebook in his hands as he examined your body, laid out perfectly for him to do whatever he wanted. Though, seeing him writing things down now seemed strange considering he wasn't actually doing anything.

"What could you possibly be taking note of right now?" you questioned, verbalizing your minor concern.

He just looked up from his work and smirked at you, only for a few seconds before he went back, jotting something else down.

To experiment on your own, you closed your legs and rubbed your thighs together, hoping he'd get the signal.

The second he put his hands on your knees to spread your legs open again, you almost broke down right there. Because you finally realized why he was talking forever to get started.

He was making you wait for it. Getting you excited and antsy.

"Keep 'em open for me, sweet girl," he said softly as he ran the tip of his pencil over your bare thighs. The sensation admittedly made you clench around nothing, and he smiled, returning to write something down.

But then he was done teasing. He set the notebook and pencil down and sat beside you, making sure you looked him in the eyes before he spoke. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this? You know whenever you feel like it, you just say the safeword and we'll stop."

You smiled up at him with a slight nod and reached out to grab his hand. "I'm ready when you are, Doc."

He squeezed your hand and leaned down to kiss you sweetly. Though, the sweetness didn't last. After you started to get squirmy, his hands gently roaming your bare body as he kissed you for about a half hour—Yes, a half hour—he relented, trailing his kisses down to the insides of your thighs. By the time he actually truly touched you, you were already a whimpering mess.

If that was any indication as to how the rest of the day would go, you were in trouble. Good trouble, sure, but trouble nonetheless.

He took it easy, gently swiping his tongue out to tease your clit as his middle finger slowly—and torturously so—entered in and out of you. Whenever he could tell that you were getting closer to orgasm, he pulled back, pressing gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs again and then returning to his work sometime later.

This was a cycle that kept repeating until about another half hour had passed, and Spencer retreated to take more notes.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, brushing the hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, a little frustrated at not being able to get off, but blissed out nonetheless at all the build-up. "Mhm...

HOUR 5

By now he'd brought out the weakest vibrator you had, keeping it on a low setting as he alternated between pressing it to your clit and pumping it in and out of you. In between hours, you'd been drinking water and eaten a few decent snacks to keep yourself hydrated and fed.

You were nearing the end of the first half of the day, and after this next hour you'd be able to stop for an hour to eat lunch and take a break.

But you couldn't focus on that right now.

No, right now you were too busy gasping and moaning out every time Spencer's tongue flicked and swirled over your clit as his fingers worked the vibrator in and out of your body.

The pressure was building and building, and like it had become second nature at this point, you tapped his head to let him know you were on the brink. So he pulled away completely, leaving you whimpering and sweating.

He turned the vibrator off and came to sit next to you rather than in front of you. His hand grazed your cheek as he looked down at you, his gentle and caring nature instantly calming you down.

"Keep going?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You kissed it and nodded, knowing you could hold out for another forty minutes or so. "I can do it."

"I know you can, sweet girl. Just a little longer, and then we can take a break."

He kissed you sweetly again before returning to his spot in front of you, and the sound of the vibrator turning on immediately set your insides aflame.

This time, he pressed it to your clit, and you jumped at the sensation. And as if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward and added his tongue to the mix, both of them completely overtaking your senses and sending you into a tailspin.

It didn't take very long for you to need to tap his head again, and he chuckled as he pulled away, leaning into your thigh. "So soon already, baby?" he mused.

"I can take it, I just... I need... more frequent breaks," you breathed, trying to look up at him and failing to keep your head up.

"Oh, that's gonna make the second half of this little experiment so much fun," he mused again, and then dove head-first back into said experiment.

HOUR 6

You were sitting at the kitchen table, and your legs felt like they might fall off. When you told Spencer this, he laughed and reassured you that you'd be fine, but let you know kindly that if you didn't want to go through with the rest of this and stop for the day, that was more than okay, too.

He made you toast and cereal for lunch, despite his protests to get you to eat something a bit more sustainable. But you insisted that you had to have Lucky Charms and toast, and really, who was he to say no to you?

It didn't take long for you to eat, so the both of you spent the rest of your hour-long break cuddled on the couch. You were wrapped in a soft new robe he'd just bought you for an anniversary present, snuggled into his side as he rubbed your head, his fingers brushing through your hair and almost making you fall asleep. And you probably would have, too, if not for the fact that you knew what was coming next.

Despite the slight exhaustion that was starting to wash over you, it kept you awake and alive with electricity just thinking about what the next few hours would entail.

HOUR 8

You'd ended up dozing off a little longer than expected, no doubt throwing off your experiment a little bit, but once you woke up on the couch to find Spencer taking more notes in his book, the feeling you had (relaxed and refreshed and ready to go again) let you know it was worth it.

"Can I see what you're writing?" you mumbled, reaching out to pull him closer to you.

"You can tomorrow. I want you to be as unbiased as possible, so you're gonna have to wait."

You kissed his neck and nuzzled into it, already feeling replenished and ready for phase 2. "Whatever you say, Doctor," you hummed into his skin.

About 20 minutes of making out on the couch, some water, and a bathroom break later, you found yourself perched on the bed again, this time leaning against the headboard and toying the hem of your robe, which you'd left on and open, per your boyfriend's request.

He watched you intently as your hands started to roam, slightly pushing the silk aside to expose your breasts and then gently kneading them. Under his intense staring you felt yourself grow wet again already, and it was... well, intense, for lack of a better word.

After being edged for five hours straight, even with a decent break in between, everything that was happening seemed to be amplified, every sense heightened so that with every touch and even every look, it likely wouldn't take long for you to start falling apart again.

And you couldn't wait.

Rather than tell Spencer this, you showed him, spreading your legs wide and pouting, running your hands down your front and then resting your fingers promptly at the crease of your thighs.

"Eager already?" he laughed, writing something down.

"Mhm," you whined in earnest, though you'd have been lying if you said you didn't do it to catch his attention, too.

Whether that's what did it or not, you were excited to see that he set the notebook down and was making his way to nestle between your legs once more. As he kissed the insides of your right thigh you reached out to run your fingers through his hair.

"You remember your safeword if anything gets to be too much?" he asked, pausing his trail of kisses to look you in the eye.

You nodded, repeating the word, "Raven." The day you walked into the BAU for the first time, the first time you met, he was reading The Raven, and the two of you had a decent discussion about it for hours once you'd had some free time.

And even that was before the both of you had realized just how compatible you two were. You shared a lot of the same interests, and where you didn't know about something, he'd teach you, and vice versa.

That philosophy also happened to extend into your sex lives.

You didn't even really know you were into edging and overstimulation until one night Spencer would not stop teasing you, bringing you to the edge just to pull back until you were begging for him to finish the job.

Now look at where you were.

His finger teasing your pussy and gathering the slickness that had unsurprisingly already started to form there brought you out of your fond daydream. You looked down at him, sighing out at the way he looked in that moment and the way he made you feel. And when his middle and ring fingers slowly pushed into you, his mouth dropping open and forming a small 'o' as he worked so curiously, you start to realize just how lucky you'd gotten.

HOUR 10

"Fuck, baby, please!"

Spencer came to a halt then, keeping himself buried deep inside of you as you gasped out for air.

"You wanna cum again, sweet girl?" he cooed, reaching down to cup your cheek.

You looked up at him and nodded, small whines escaping that closely resembled Mhm.

You'd already cum twice per hour since you'd started phase 2 of this experiment, but with only a few left to go, you pushed through the fatigue and focused on everything else. At first you tried to delay yourself again, thinking that maybe the payoff would be better and the overstimulation wouldn't be as bad, but you were sorely mistaken. After the third time you came, it was clear that there wouldn't be anything you could do unless you stopped it altogether, and you didn't want to. You knew your limits, and if there ever did come a time where you knew it was too much, you knew exactly how to stop it.

It also helped that Spencer was n absolute angel about everything. He always asked if you needed any water, if you were okay to keep going, if you wanted him to slow down or let you take a little break.

You had nothing to worry about.

He started drilling into you again, close to his first orgasm of the day, and you were more than willing to embrace it after having nothing but his hands, mouth, and a vibrator the whole time. Which, of course, was still a damn-near magical experience, but nothing ever compared to the way it felt when he straight-up fucked you. Especially now considering you were practically higher than you'd ever been.

When he did cum inside you for the first time that day, you yelled out, moaning obscenely at how... well, just good it felt. You couldn't think of any other words to describe it, especially while you were on the brink of coming undone yourself. Everything was just so high and sharp and good that you couldn't form proper words.

But you didn't need them.

You came shortly after he did, and Spencer still continued to slowly thrust into you. As his movements slowed, he tilted your head up to look at him, and spoke. "I think you can give me one more before our hour is up, yeah? Just one more, baby?"

"Uh... Uh huh," you breathed, giving him the best smile you could.

When he leaned forward to kiss you, his angle deepened, and you gasped out against his lips. He stayed there, taking sharp, staccato thrusts forward that kept his cum planted deep inside you and quickly started to give you another orgasm.

"You got it, baby, you got it. Let go for me, it's okay..."

His words sent you over the edge, your body finally shuddering with the effects of your sixth orgasm of the day. You clung to his neck, squeezing him until you were sure he couldn't breathe, but nonetheless, he kept at it, encouraging you with sweet words and running his hands gently through your hair.

When you were practically writhing around him in uncomfortable pleasure, he pulled out of you.

You breathed out a shaky sigh of relief against his shoulder, taking in all the sweet whispers he sent in your ear. Eventually your breathing slowed, and together you were both harmonious in slow, gentle breathing. You could have fallen asleep right there.

"I'm gonna pull back to look at you, sweet girl, is that okay?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you offered quietly, loosening your grip on him and allowing him to finally meet your eye again.

His gaze was soft, loving, everything that kept you going.

"Let's take a little break before we finish the rest of this, okay?"

HOUR 12

This was it. This was the homestretch.

After a half-hour break during which Spencer cleaned you up a bit, made sure you were rested and hydrated, and set up for this last hour and a half, he had you on your stomach. Your ass was up in the air, your cheek resting on one pillow while another laid under you for support. It was comfortable, and you knew that it was the best way to end off the experiment.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?" You heard Spencer's voice from behind you, and it made you smile.

"Ready whenever you are, baby," you offered back clearly. You were more than ready for this.

You could practically hear his smile when he said, "That's my girl." His hands ran over your bare ass, and to show that you were in good spirits, you wiggled a little, causing him to laugh as he brought his hands down to your pussy.

The contact made you clench, and a small moan left your lips as he ran his fingers through your wetness.

"I love how eager you are, sweet girl," he mused, continuing his slow back and forth motions from your clit to your opening. And you couldn't help it. You begged. You didn't even really know what in particular you were begging for, just that it was setting your soul on fire not being touched to the fullest extent.

"Please," you cried out, relishing in the way his fingers did touch you, and begging for more.

Thankfully he seemed to be merciful, not wasting any time asking questions and simply getting to work. Two of his fingers slid easily into you, and you moaned out at the sensation. Between that and the small praises you could hear falling from his lips, truthfully you could have fallen asleep. Everything was so high-inducing that it felt like you were floating.

But you didn't fall asleep. You made sure to stay fully aware of what was happening, even if it did feel like time and space were coming in and out of focus sometimes. Besides, that fuzzy feeling was how you'd come to know you were close to orgasm.

It rocked through you like water crashing onto the shore, each new wave of pleasure stronger than the next until it subsided altogether, leaving you with a clean slate in the sand. You were moaning out incoherently into the pillow as you tried to catch your breath, but then smaller, yet still prominent waves met your shore and left you humming as his hips stayed pressed into your ass.

You were coherent enough then to realize that he was coming inside you, and the fuzziness of your surroundings cleared enough for you to hear him calling out your name in sweet, blissed-out whispers. Each syllable was like a prayer, desperate and unwavering as your body relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding inside of you.

But you almost didn't even hear the last part.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Surprisingly to you, you found yourself unable to respond—the words were forming in your head, but your body and your mouth simply refused to do anything to communicate how you were feeling.

What did come out was, "How... much... time?"

By now Spencer had pulled out and away from you, and was now perched on the bed, beside you while his hand stroked the hair from your face. "Time's up now, sweet girl. You did so well."

HOUR 13

Time, as it turns out, had not been up.

In actuality, the last hour only ended up being fifteen minutes, and upon seeing how exhausted and almost incoherent you were, Spencer decided to call it quits. Not to mention he had been tiring, himself. It gave him ample time to clean you up and get you into a nice, warm bath, though. As you waited for the water to run, he jotted some quick things down in the notebook and then tended to you the rest of the evening.

He washed you up, gave your shoulders and head a nice massage while doing so, and after about a half hour, dressed you in your favorite, comfiest pajamas. Your legs were so weak that he half-carried you to the bed, where you almost passed out on the spot. He'd crawled into bed with you immediately after throwing on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, and took the time to rub your head, your arms, anywhere that comforted you.

You barely registered them because of how weak you felt, but he whispered praises against your temple, alternating between gentle words and even gentler kisses.

And now, you were well into the thirteenth hour of your experiment, sleeping soundly beside Spencer as he wrote a few more things down in the notebook.

THE NEXT MORNING

He wasn't there when you opened your eyes. It worried you at first, but you saw a note on his pillow that read: Left to grab breakfast. Be back soon. I love you. —S

You smiled lazily, stretching out and instantly feeling how sore your muscles were. Through a wince, you stretched out some more before spotting Spencer's notebook on his bedside table.

And... Well, he did say that you could look at it after the experiment was over, didn't he?

So you climbed over, grabbed the notebook, and flipped it open, your stomach fluttering with butterflies at the thought of what he might have written.

Sure enough, the more you read, the stronger the butterflies got. Your eyes skirted over page after page, detailing in bullet points the filthy things he did to you and how you reacted, every hour a highlight reel of all that he tried and even some of the things you'd said. Some of it you didn't really remember at first, but it slowly started to come back to you as you woke up more, the blush on your cheeks deepening immensely as you read on.

You got near the end of the experiment, and that's when you noticed an added 13th hour.

More than curious as to what that could entail, you read a few paragraphs in Spencer's messy handwriting that sent a shot of warmth straight to your heart.

Y/N has finally fallen asleep. This is the 13th hour we've spent together today since the experiment started, and truthfully I think it's my favorite one. I find that even the intense fire I felt burning through me all day could never compare to the warmth I'm feeling right now, as she sleeps beside me, blissfully unaware of what I'm writing while her breathing softly threatens to lull me to sleep. I can't think of a better feeling, to be surrounded by her presence. It's comforting and warm and beautiful, and that's not even the half of it.

No matter what remarkably devious things I do to her body in the name of sexual experiments, what matters most to me is that at the end of the day, Y/N feels just as comforted and warm and beautiful as she makes me feel. Which is why I think I'll bring her blueberry pancakes tomorrow morning— they're her favorite. And while I'm out, I want to pick up some of her favorite snacks, some flowers, and maybe a stuffed animal or two. And... maybe that's a little much...

But as long as she knows how much I adore her, nothing is ever too much.

Your throat was suddenly tight, and tears threatened to escape, every muscle in your body tense as they tried their hardest to prevent you from actually crying. Maybe the physical intensity of yesterday was to blame, but deep down you knew that Spencer's heartfelt words would always be more powerful than any physical toll on your body, heart, and soul.

You hadn't even registered that he'd come home, his voice snapping you out of your little trance.

"You weren't supposed to see that yet," he said softly with an amused laugh. When you looked up, his hands were holding a bouquet of pink carnations, your favorite.

And with the soft, loving look in his eye, a tear managed to fall down your cheek. "I love you," you whispered through a smile, feeling your body start to break down after holding in all the tears.

"I love you too, sweet girl," he replied, striding over to you in a few steps.

When he reached the edge of the bed, you sat up on your knees and grabbed his face with your hands, bringing his lips to meet yours as the flowers tickled your chest over the thin material of your shirt.

"You're going to smush the flowers," he mumbled against your lips, and you laughed, pulling away to take them from him.

"Thank you, they're beautiful," you said, tilting your head down to instinctively smell them.

Spencer smiled back at you, and the sight made your heart beat a little faster as he said, "Just like you."

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[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,�� he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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‎

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[bakugousbussy]

Plus Ultra

BakuDeku w/ Lee! Deku & Ler! Bakugou

Summary: Ever since being enrolled in U.A. Midoriya won’t quit saying “Plus Ultra!” Whether it would be meaningful like when he was giving a pep talk, or stupid like when he was trying to open a jar of pickles. And Bakugou was getting annoyed.

-

It started off as a beautiful day. The sun was slowly starting to peak out from behind the horizon, birds chirping a sweet tune, dew resting on the grass.

Bakugou opened his eyes, it was 630AM, he sat up and took a deep gulp of air. Enjoying the morning’s peace and quiet, sighing happily at the scene. Nothing could ruin his day.

Around 730AM, everyone else started to awake and emerge from their dorm rooms and into the common area. Small talk, morning greetings, and the smell of breakfast filled the air.

“Can you pass me the ketchup please?” Uraraka turned to ask Midoriya, while pointing at the red bottle that was next to him.

“Oh yeah of course!” Deku beamed her a smile as he passed her the bottle.

Uraraka fiddled with the cap for about a minute before sighing out loud, defeated.

“Deku can you open it?” She hands the bottle back to Deku, giving him a small smile and looking down at her food, slightly embarrassed. Imagine being a pro-hero in training and losing to a bottle of ketchup.

Deku notices her visual distress, “Hey, don’t worry! You know what you need to do? Go Plus Ultra! Focus all your strength and try again!” He shot her a wide smile.

Bakugou, who was sitting on the couch at the time, listening to their conversation, just rolls his eyes. “Go pLuS ULtRa!” He mocks, whispering to himself.

“You’re right Deku! Hand the bottle back!” Excitement and determination replaced her previous embarrassed face, as she grabbed the bottle from Deku before struggling a bit with the cap, but finally popping it off.

“Deku I did it!” Uravity exclaims, huge smile plastered on her face.

“Because you did it PLUS ULTRA!”

Deku and Uraraka laugh and continued to finish their breakfast before the school day started.

It was 830AM and the members of the Bakusquad were all seated in the common area impatiently waiting for Kirishima.

“Kirishima hurry up!” Mina sighed, looking at the red head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I forgot about the math worksheet! I have like 5 problems left!” Kirishima responded with a panic, trying to quickly solve the math problems in front of him.

“We’re going to be late for school if you don’t hurry up, then Aizawa sensei is gonna chew us out!” Denki said with a hint of fear laced in his words.

“Tch. Shitty hair, we better not be late because of you.” Bakugou snarled from his position on the couch.

Midoriya sat on the opposite side of the table Kirishima was working on. Deku was engrossed in his hero notebook, writing thoughts, making up strategies, all while mumbling to himself. The green haired boy snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a frustrated sigh coming from Kirishima.

“Kirishima are you okay?” Izuku asked with genuine concern.

“This last problem is hurting my brain!” Kirishima whined, erasing his previous markings and letting out another frustrated sigh when he dropped his pencil from erasing too hard.

“Don’t worry! You know what you need to do? Just make your brain go Plus Ultra!” Midoriya nodded as he gave Kirishima his nonhelpful advice.

The phrase made Bakugou once again roll his eyes. Make your brain go Plus Ultra? How are you even going to do that? That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Nobody with half a brain cell is going to believe they can make their stupid brain go ‘Plus Ultra’. Bakugou thought.

“You’re so right MidoBro!”

Of course Shitty hair is going to eat that crap up. Bakugou finished his thought. Scowl on his face as he scrolled through his phone, angrily listening to the conversation.

“And there, it’s done!” Kirishima sighed in relief as he shoved his now finished math homework into his backpack. “Thank you for encouraging me Midoriya! And thank you brain for going Plus Ultra!” Kirishima happy danced his way over to the Bakusquad. “Alright let’s head to class!”

Time was going by so slow. Bakugou felt like he’s been in the same class forever. When the bell finally rang he jumped with excitement.

Finally, my favorite class. Bakugou thought, a small grin creeping on his face. Gym.

Everyone got changed into their gym clothes and met Aizawa sensei at USJ.

“Okay students, I will be splitting you up into partners and you will have to work together to stay hidden. Me and some of the other teachers are going to try to catch you.” Aizawa stated, monotone.

“Like a game of hide and seek?” Mina asked, excited that training today was more of a game than actual training.

“Correct. The winning team gets a prize.”

Ooh’s and ahh’s filled the air as the students got psyched to play. All wondering what the special prize at the end was. Everyone was determined. It’s gonna be one hell of a game.

Aizawa quickly broke up the chatter. “Listen, partners are:

Aoyama & Ashido

Asui & Hagakure

Iida & Jiro

Kaminari & Koda

Kirishima & Mineta

Ojiro & Sato

Sero & Uraraka

Bakugou & Midoriya

Shoji & Yaoyorozu

Todoroki & Tokoyami”

“Trade partners.” Bakugou asked everyone. No way was he going to be stuck with his childhood friend, turned enemy, turned rival.

“There will be no trading partners.” Aizawa stated, pinching the bridge of his nose in a annoyance. “You have 10 minutes to think of a strategy, you can use the whole training center, there will be a bell that rings after your 10 minutes of planning, when the bell rings, you have approximately 6 minutes before the other teachers and I start hunting. Understood?”

“Yes!” Said all the students unanimously, quickly finding their designated partners and started planning their survival, working together flawlessly.

All except Bakugou and Deku.

“Come on Kacchan I think it would be better to hide in the forest so we can hide in all the trees!” Deku whined at the explosive blonde.

“Tch. No nerd, we’re going to the city.” Bakugou stubbornly argued.

Bickering went back and forth and before they knew it, their 10 minute planning time was up and the bell rang. Everyone started to scatter, running to their chosen areas. Bakugou and Midoriya were too caught up in fighting that they didn’t decide on a place, so they both just ran. No plan, just running.

They ended up in the city area and hid in what seemed to be like a little bomb shelter. It was a little room underground, they had to take some sketchy staircase hidden inside a bar to get there.

Breathing hard, they both looked at each other and nodded, agreeing this was a good place to hide.

As time went by, Deku tried to make conversation with the explosive blonde, but Bakugou just ignored the green haired boy the whole time.

They heard some commotion outside of their hiding spot. Sounds like another team was hiding near us and got caught. Bakugou thought.

15 minutes of hiding passed, and Deku had a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What are you smiling about Deku?” Bakugou asked with annoyance.

“This hiding place is so good! It’s like we’re hiding Plus Ultra!” Deku beamed, hands shaking from all the excitement.

Not that shit again.

“You know what. That’s it.” Bakugou said as he tackled Deku to the floor, both boys landing with a huge thump. “I’m sick of hearing ‘Plus Ultra’ come out of your mouth. Plus Ultra this, Plus Ultra that. I’ll show you Plus Ultra you nerd.” Bakugou pins Deku to the floor and pinning his arms above his head with one hand.

“Kacchan wait!” Midoriya begs, shaking his head while tugging at his hands to try to get Bakugou off, not sure what is going to happen to him.

Bakugou wastes no time as he shoots his free hand into Midoriya’s exposed armpit.

“AHHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAH KAHAHAHACCHAHAHAN!” Midoriya laughs out, surprised.

“Every time you speak all i hear is ‘Plus Ultra,’ so I’m going to take your advice nerd, and tickle you. Plus. Ultra.” Bakugou teases, with emphasis on the last two words, digging in a little harder into the green hairs’ armpit.

“WAHAHAHAHAIT IHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHORRY!” Midoriya squeezes his eyes shut, kicking his legs miserably.

A distant memory floods Bakugou’s mind. It was back in their elementary days. The two boys were in this same position, Deku a giggling mess under Kacchan. They had just finished school, and Deku was in a rather sad mood, and Bakugou cheered him up with tickles. Things were simpler back then, Bakugou thought to himself, a genuine smile forming on his face as he thought of his childhood. He was brought back to reality when he heard a small scream.

“NGA! KAHAHAHAHACCHAHAHAHAN NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!” The broccoli headed boy cried out with laughter, trying to buck the blonde off of him.

Bakugou responded with an evil laugh, and released Midoriya’s wrists, and used both of his free hands to dig into Deku’s ribs. Resulting in waves of high pitched shrieks from Deku.

“STAHAHAHAHAP! NAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAHAHCCHAN HAHAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEHEHERCY! SOHOHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHONE HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHE!” Midoriya’s eyes started to collect puddles of mirthful tears, as he endured the ticklish torture.

“Tch. Deku, nobody can hear you down here. Guess you’re just gonna have to take it, and go…….?” Bakugou paused, words laced with that teasing tone that Midoriya couldn’t help but blush at. Continuing to assault Deku’s ribs, waiting for an answer.

“PLUHUHUHUHUS UHUHUHUHULTRA HAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHI GEHEHEHEHET IHIHIHIHIT!” Midoriya spat back, shaking his head, hoping the blonde had enough fun tickling the shit outta him.

Bakugou moved his fingers rhythmically, up and down Deku’s ribs, almost like playing a piano, not letting a single rib escape from his tickle attack.

“Oh-hoho, now you’re getting it.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as he looked at the scene beneath him. “And now for the best part.” With those words, Bakugou stopped his fingers. And Midoriya’s eyes grew wide.

“No no no Kacchan, you know I can’t take it there.” Midoriya blurted out through gasps of air, tired from the previous attack, but still trying to push the explosive blonde off of him trying to protect himself.

“But what’s that thing you always say?” Bakugou pressed his fingers into his chin creating a thinking pose. “Hmmm, oh yeah! Don’t worry! You know what you need to do?” Bakugou’s hands lowered themselves to each side of Midoriya’s hip bones.

“Go.” Bakugou started to knead softly at Izuku’s hips. Resulting in loud giggles from the boy.

“Plus.” Bakugou added more pressure, circling his fingers on the sensitive bone. Louder laughter exploded from the boy.

“Ultra!” Bakugou dug his fingers into Deku’s hips and Deku lost his shit.

“KAHAHAHAHAA-” Deku couldn’t even finish his attackers name before he fell into silent laughter. His hipbones were the most ticklish and he couldn’t last very long once someone started tickling him there. Since they were younger, Bakugou would always use this little piece of information to his advantage.

The green haired boy’s tears finally fell from his eyes, leaving his cheeks tear stained. Midoriya’s arms flailed and tried to remove the explosive blonde’s hands away from his death spot. Failing of course.

About a minute later, the tickling slowed, until it finally came to a stop. Bakugou’s hands resting on the boy’s hips.

Residual giggles left Deku’s lips, and Bakugou hopped of his waist. Deku sat up, enjoying his freedom. Bakugou’s eyes were fixated on Midoriya. His hair a mess from the attack he just endured, cheeks still a little damp from mirthful tears, sweat building on his forehead. Bakugou mentally awed at the sight.

Midoriya could feel the stares coming from his childhood friend, and turned to face him, eyes meeting with each others. Deku gave Bakugou a smile and Bakugou looked away.

“Tch. Don’t think we’re friends or something, I just wanted you to shut it with that Plus Ultra shit.” Bakugou scoffed, permanent scowl plastered on his face. He knew that was a lie.

Midoriya was just about to reply when they heard loud bells, and an announcement that followed. “2 teams left! Who will be the last to survive?!” Both boys heard Present Mic practically scream out.

The game wasn’t over.

[wiypt-writes]

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco 

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver. 

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..." 

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion. 

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that.  “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled.  "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply.  "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction.  “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing. 

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes.  “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths.  Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was.  “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks. 

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done.  “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong. 

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily. 

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her. 

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought. 

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him. 

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either. 

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry. 

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled. 

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back. 

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited. 

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking. 

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said. 

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little. 

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever. 

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held. 

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?” 

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example. 

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?" 

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department. 

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it. 

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him. 

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

[bonelessghoul]

Until My Last Breath

requested by: @just-deka

summary: A heartrender in the rankings of the Crows and with an unspoken relationship with Kaz Brekker finds herself in trouble during a heist when there is a run in with the Dime Lions. When Kaz fights his way in to get her out of the mess it became, the two end up trapped and fighting for their lives. But in their last moments, the truth comes out. 

note: LMAO THIS WAS THE BEST WAY I COULD SUM UP THE REQUEST, but I was genuinely panicking at the end of this hoping this turned out the way you wanted it to!! Hope you enjoy :)

~

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as they stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

~

The chandeliers spaced throughout the high ceiling of the Crow Club gave a vintage touch with its dim light, making the deep red curtains around the room seem darker and masking the daylight from the outdoors. But tucked away in the second story was Kaz Brekker’s office. It was his solace away from the clamor of the club that was only muffled from where he sat hunched over his desk.

The midday crowd was already filling the club to the brim from the booths to the game tables and every space in between.  

But one figure slipped through it with ease, weaving in and out in a fresh white blouse, cinched in the middle and sleeves like balloons like an angel. It was like clockwork when you would find your way up the stairs to the office, bypassing the allure of the liquor and games Jesper engorged himself with. You were busy back in your room at the Slat, tinkering with new scraps of the latest mechanics you dug for, but like you said; your arrival was like clockwork.

Kaz, glancing at his pocket watch, stared as the thin needle of a hand rolled around the center point and as if on cue, he found YN breezing through the door with a breath of relief from squeezing through the crowd. His office smelled like remnants of firewood, the freshly brewed coffee he had filling the air. While the daylight was hidden in the club downstairs, a window was opened allowing a cool breeze and the cloudy skies to find their way into this massive space which also held a small bedroom.

As a Heartrender, you would never admit to the way Kaz’s heart would pick up whenever you were near.

“Morning.” you greeted, a handful of mail sent for him to the Slat in your hands as you crossed the space between the door and his desk.

Offering him the small stack and he took it, the shadows under his eyes seeming darker today. You were always up before the sun when your mind could not stop thinking of a new idea, and more often than not, you’d hear Kaz sneaking out in the early morning without a word.

“It’s afternoon.” he said, slyly glancing up at her as his gloved hand took the papers.

With your hands free, you sat yourself upon the very corner of his desk and looking down at the two cups of coffee still topped off with steam, one cup significantly lighter than the other. Smiling contently to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the mug and picked it up to your lips.

“Hope you got it right.”

Kaz glanced up once more as he sorted through the letters.

His eyes flickered over you for a moment, pausing from what he initially wanted to say and you could hear his heart beat in your ears as it skipped.

“Don’t worry, I made it sickening sweet.” Kaz mused, heaving a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

“Good, I’ll slip slowly and waste more time here then.” you chuckled lightly.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy sitting on his desk, sharing a cup of coffee and hearing him rant as he read the bills, the offers from others, imported goods, the bank statements, and everything else that came with the stress of running a club, not to mention an entire gang. There as a guilty pleasure as a Heartrender that involved enjoying just how flustered became down to a cellular level , but her relationship with Kaz was different; being a Heartrender taught her how much she could push and how to know when to stop pushing given his complicated boundaries.

Admittedly, as indifferent as she made herself seem when it came to Kaz, had he been the Heartrender you would have been in trouble if he could hear your heart. Every time you saw his face at the end of a job, whenever he’d look at you as you sat like you did now, and even every little bit of your unique intimacy sent your heart racing.

It seemed there were many ways to love someone that didn’t involve touching, you thought to yourself, watching Kaz’s brows furrow in the slightest with every word he read with a bittersweet smile. But it hurt when she couldn’t hold his hand or feel his comforting arms at the end of the day.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked, clearing your throat. “Things have been awfully quiet lately.”

Kaz smirked, snickering lightly to himself as he looked up at her.

“We don’t say the words quiet around here because next thing you know, it won’t be so quiet and our hands will be full with trouble.”

You raised your brows. “Well, is something coming our way?”

The look on his face confirmed it all. A simple job was offered to the Crows and a select few Dregs of his choosing (but Kaz would tell you to round up those best for it anyway), to steal a vintage piece of jewelry just brought to  Ketterdam’s historic society display room. It was a job within a job, for the person requesting this jewelry and its unique elemental composition worth hundreds of thousands, it was the key to a bigger job after this which they hoped to secure.

“They have a pretty tight security system.” You sighed, holding up the blueprints he pulled out in front of you.

“Perhaps, you can figure it out in a more spacious area than the corner of my desk.” Kaz frowned, looking away as his chin rested in his palm. Then, only his eyes moved towards her. “I’m leaving the tight security system to you because you’re the only one who is creative enough to get by them. Inej scouted every entrance and found the source of the security system’s mechanics.”

It seemed easy, nothing you hadn’t come up with before, and an idea was already forming in your head to your excitement.

“Tinker around, get the ancient necklace, and a boat load of kruge.” You said simply, your voice only wavering in the slightest as your eyes narrowed at just how intricate the alarm system was.

Kaz stood up from his seat, taking the maps from her to wrap up and slide away in its casing.

“You should be on your way. Best to get a quick start so we can be in and out tonight.” Kaz said, handing her the cylinder casing for the blueprints.

“Oh, I’d sit here all day of you let me.” you grinned, earning an eye roll from him.

“Go.” Kaz pressed, his face more asserting now, trying to hide his own smirk.

But even as you strolled out the door, you could hear his heart rate jumping. Kaz’s eyes didn’t leave your figure on the way out, still staring out into space after the door shut. He leaned over his desk with his palms pressed into the wooden edge and his head dropped with a sigh.

Kaz Brekker was in trouble and his little Heartrender already knew.

~

There was a slightly calmer hour to be found at the Crow Club between the midday crowd leaving and night crowd slowly taking its place. In that time, you found yourself sitting at a booth and sinking into the curved red velvet seating.

You were sketching out a tool that will silence the alarm mechanisms that you had been reading up on for the past two hours. Time was running slow and your back began to ache from the position you barely moved from as you dug the lead into the parchment.

“Hey, YN! How’s it—”

“Jesper!”

Your hands frantically waved him off as his palm came down on your sprawled out pile of sketches and he jumped back, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, piling up the previous sketched of the tool you were designing, the exhaustion clear in your skiddish movements. “I have just been trying to wrap my head around this job tonight.”

Jesper smoothly slid into the booth, sitting next to you with eyes scanning over the maps. From behind, Inej approached them and slid into the booth from the other side and now, both Crows were perched upon her shoulders and looking at her work.

“The historical society in the Geldestraat is no playground.” Inej sighed.

“Oh, it’s a playground for sure, just one with little landmines at every step and Stadwatch at every corner. Then, it’s a race to the last swing on the swing set and that is our prize at the end of tonight.” Jesper ranted, his hands flailing as he spoke.

By the time he was done speaking, you and Inej stared at him, speechless.

“You must have been the child that was always bullied at playgrounds, weren’t you?” you muttered, turning your head back to the blueprints. “It’s one of the most complex, yet easiest security systems we’ve had to break into. If the necklace is on display in the spot you say it is, Inej, then this window here is our best bet.”

“Best bet for what?” Inej asked, looking at her quizzically.

Grinning, you held up the drawing of a box no bigger than your hand, the inner workings of your mind scribbled across the page.

“The window has about 5 seconds from the moment it’s opened all the way before it starts setting off an alarm which has a domino affect on the other alarms. It’s a system of bells and the window we’re going through is the start of the system. If I can forge this box to the right dimensions of the window and the string that is triggered from the window opening, then we will have a few minutes before it breaks, and the bells signal any Stadwatch in the area.”

Jesper scoffed. “Then don’t build a little tool that is going to break.”

Your hands ran over your face and instantly, you swatted at his shoulder.

“My work is impeccable, but that string is thin and ready to snap, it’s why they used it so that when the window opened, it would cut it and set off the bells.”

“Oh!” he said slowly, coming to the realization as his lips formed an o.

Even as you spoke of your plan as easily as floating down a stream, it was too good to be true. There were a dozen other factors you haven’t considered yet that made this all the more tricky. In theory, it sounded simple but getting through the window and setting up the tool in time was critical, not to mention getting to the lower level of the museum and back in time before the bells go off.

Leaning on your elbows, your shoulders sunk just a little as your mind continued to pour over the plan.

“I have to be efficient. I say we get a few minutes, give or take another fifteen minutes tops, to make it to the necklace and back without a single peep.”

Jesper glanced at Inej who was standing beside you now and looking it all over.

“Can you do that Inej?”

Immediately, the girl shook her head.

“I may be the most graceful here, but I’m surprisingly not the fastest.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the attention being shoved on you. While you wouldn’t admit it, you’ve already been thinking of it all afternoon and it left your stomach in knots.

“I’ve been walking through this all afternoon.” you sighed, a hint of defeat in your face. “Partially, I feel like taking our chances by taking these jewels in broad daylight.” you half joked.

Suddenly, your hearing focused in on a heart that almost had a third pound through his chest from the cane who always wore. That and his heartbeat both resounded through Kaz’s body with such strength, but, even when you expected him to be near, you didn’t expect him behind the booth sending the three of you with the Saints.

“We do not have the luxury of stealing things in broad daylight, YN.” Kaz said, startling everyone out of their own skin, looming over their shoulders until they he was in front of the table. “We got the jump on this before anyone else, there is no other time to do this but tonight so you all have to be ready.”

You looked up at him, slightly taken back at how high strung he was over this job, his own stressed soul infecting theirs. His eyes scanned over the three of them and then, fell on yours, but you were already looking at the hard lines in his face accentuated by his frown.

Nodding, you tore your eyes away from him and got back to work.

This job was going to break a sweat out in all of them before it even started.

~

“This one won’t explode, yes?” Kaz asked you.

Frowning at him, you waved the contraption you built in an hour Iin the air.

“Look, I know the last one did but this was a simple put together of a few different pieces. See, if you just-'

Kaz put his hand up with an exasperated look, signaling you to stop the demonstration you tried to put on by showing him the inside of your invention.

The two or you stood by one of the street level windows to the small brick building, it’s window panes and shutters painted black, and on this little side street there was no light that found its way here except the faint blue moon above their heads. Kaz had just unlocked the windows, and he stood there just inches away before he would open the window and you’d crawl in, having to be quick.

As you looked at him, you almost couldn’t distinguish who’s heart was racing faster.

Every time you tried to think of your path to the second story where the famous necklace was on display, your thoughts kept getting scrambled.

“Be fast, but not sloppy and get back here in one piece with that jewel in your hand.” Kaz said, his voice not missing a confident beat.

You nodded, smiling reassuringly and your hands nervously straightened the flaps of his wool jacket and you took a shaky breath.

“Got it. Open it up.”

With his cane, Kaz stepped towards the window and gave you one last look as you prepared to jump from the crate and through the opening. Even the first story was a bit of a height difference from the street, but you were quick and had the jumping skill set needed.

Kaz nodded at her and without a moment to waste, Kaz opened the window and you sprinted in, your foot pressing into the crate, pushing off of it and your hands clutching the windowsill to guide you in with ease. There was only a few seconds left and you leaped up to the top of the window, watching as the string that held together their alarm system was growing taught and with your heart pounding, your arm shot out to grab it before it snapped and finally, you could let out a breath or relief.

“Did it work?” Kaz asked, peaking his head through the window

Your tongue was peaking through your lips as you focused intently on wrapping the string in your contraption without moving it too much, settling it against the window secured in place like it were a second addition to big metal box against the wall that was the start it.

“YN!” he hissed.

You shushed him, beads of sweat forming at your temples, slowly leaning back as you released your invention that would keep the string in place, everything seemingly more quiet than normal.

That was good though, the silence being a sign that it was working.

Leaping down, you faced Kaz on the other side of the window and smiled at him, giving a wave of the hand in the form of a salute.

“See ya in a minute.”

Kaz grinned at you, but you turned and ran before you could hear him say a word.

The historical society was an old mansion, when they were a little smaller back in the day, converted into a museum. The hardwood floors and floral carpets were the original, the walls having been painted over a baby blue and hung with artwork that dated before Ketterdam was even recognized on the map. Everyone believed they were copies though.

You came out to the front entrance, a massive open space with a chandelier made of diamonds that sparkled and cast sharp little reflections around the room from the moon that shone in through the window above the tall double doors.

Holding your breath, you slowly looked around, not a single sound or movement to be made.

It was clear and you were set to take off up the stairs, careful not to place your hand along the railing. At the top of the stairs, it split into two hallways but you need not worry about which one to go down because the jewels were sitting in a small case, overlooking the home. They were meant to be in a room down the hall, having yet to be put on display, but it seems your job just got easier.

With a devious, proud grin across your lips, you looked at the ember colored jewels sat into the heavy golden necklace, and even you had to take a moment to admire it’s beauty as if there was a fire burning in each and every individual stone. But, you glanced at the pocket watch you had stolen from Kaz years ago and knew you only had a minute of assurance that the alarm wouldn’t go off before you had to run back

With gloved hands, you lifted the glass boxand plucked the jewel out from it.

In one swift move you placed the glass back and turned around, ready to bolt down the stairs, but two gunshots shattered your senses and while you couldn’t understand why at first, you were sent hurdling down the stairs with no control of your body.

Kaz was growing impatient standing in the alleyway, anxiously checking his watch, counting down the minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew that you knew that as well. Maybe they hid the necklace after the museum closed or maybe they haven’t even had the chance to put it out yet, but Kaz was not looking forward to having to jump to their plan B.

“Dammit, YN" he hissed, glancing through the window into the dark hallway.

But the sound of guns being fired sent him in a frenzy and without waiting a second, Kaz climbed through the window fearing the worst.

By the time you landed, rolling to a stop, the wind had been knocked out of you, pain started surging through your backside from your left hip to right shoulder blade, and left you dizzy and gasping for air. Still clutched in your hands was the necklace, and you tried to focus on how many heartbeats were in the room, but you couldn’t concentrate with the pain you were in.

“Lock her up, she’s a Heartrender.” said a man with a thick Kerch accent that sent her stomach in knots.

“No.” you painfully gasped, trying to bring your hands together.

But one boot came stomping down on the wrist that held the necklace and your screamed out in pain as your shattered bones grinded against. Suddenly, your numb fingers could no longer find the golden chain as it was taken from your hands in Pekka Rollins came into view.

“I’ll be taking that, darling. Thanks for doing the work for us!”

As Pekka stood over you, his shadowed face looking down at you with a horrid grin that made your blood boil. Your hand was shaking as you tried to bring them together, but he waved his finger in front of your face.

“Don’t even try it or a bullet will be put in your head the moment you even move a muscle.” he threatened.

At the sound of a cane smacking into a man’s skull, your head sharply turned as you lay on the ground, watching Kaz storm into the room and begin fighting the Dime Lions that charged at him.

“Kaz, no!” you cried out, your heart nearly lurching from your chest.

It was only moments before two of them seized Kaz, bringing him down on his knees. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched them relentlessly dig their fists into every part of his body, his head refusing to fall in defeat.

“What a surprise, Mr.Brekker.” Rollins taunted, strolling over to him. “I worried you might have been here before we were when your little Wraith hijacked our meeting with the buyer, but I figured, why not sit back and let you do the work for us?”

Kaz glared up at Pekka, his eyes flickering to you as you lay there, a gun pointed to your head at the hands of another Dime Lion and you watched his face drain of all its color.

“Not her.” Kaz said unconsciously, the words passing through his lips like he were thinking out loud. 

That was their first mistake.

“I didn’t know the Dregs at a Heartrender in their rankings.” Pekka said, observing Kaz’s faulty eyes, glancing back at you with a smug grin. “That sounds a bit like cheating.” But then, he shrugged and his head rolled back to Kaz. “Bah, what do I care? She won’t make it much longer, but you? If you manage to crawl out of this mess, I might have a little more respect for ya.”

You didn’t know what mess Pekka Rollins was referring to, but your backside was already aching, blood seeping through your clothes now as you lay on the cold floor.

Kaz was writhing in their grips, bloody murder written across his face as he seemed to make his way out of one of their grasps and just as you thought he would have won, a gun shot rang through the air and made you jump.

Despite all the pain, you watched as Kaz crumpled to the ground and your body instantly shot up, wincing as Pekka kicked him in the face. But another shot resounded through the air, and you collapsed back on the ground with your hand still reaching for him, your leg now feeling useless as the bullet lodged itself in your calf. You watched as Kaz roll in his back, face contorted with pain.

The tears began to fall and you lay there, looking at him, waiting for his eyes to open and look back at you.

“Let’s leave, boys. Blow the place on the way out.”

That order sent a chill through your body and you helplessly watched them walk away.

“Kaz…” you weakly croaked out, watching him begin to prop himself up, one hand holding his stomach. “Kaz, we need to go.”

As you tried to shuffle towards him, every muscle in your body screaming with pain, you were only inches away from your fingertips reaching the lapels of his coat. Kaz looked at you, his eyes wide, but the moment he reached out for you, a blast shook the entire building and the last thing you saw was the walls crumbling down around you.

~

“YN!”

The voice was muffled, just barely heard over the ringing over your ears. Slowly, your eyes blinked open, and you couldn’t feel a thing as you watched the dark blue twilight sky above your head. It was almost peaceful, the sky lightening ever so lightly that you could make out the thick clouds that were almost black against the backdrop of the sky.

But then, the sharp scent of smoke that clouded your lungs and the irony taste of blood in your mouth took you away from your blissful moment and thrusted you into one of sheer panic as it crawled up your spine.

“YN!”

The ringing stopped and you could hear the cackling of flames and rubble grinding against each other now, turning your head to see Kaz.

Soot streaked his face; the panic you felt now visible in his widened eyes and the way his lips hung open like he was staring at a ghost. Your hands were merely inches from each other now and all around, the ceiling lay in shambles, the chandelier at your heads spreading its little diamonds across the space between you two. For a moment you wonder if that was what spared you two from the wood and stone that lay around you, but when you looked, you see that wood was piercing your thigh and the door lay over your ankle.

“Kaz.” you said shakily, looking back at him.

It was amazing how you couldn’t feel a thing, but that was probably good.

You two stared at each other, panting and clearly at a loss of what to do, except all you two could do was look at each other.

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as you stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

“Don’t look at my like that, YN.” Kaz grunted, trying to pull himself up. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to die.”

The bruises scattered across his face and the blood that soaked through his shirt were clear as day, but he seemed unphased as he tried to move closer.

You faintly smirked at him, feeling a trickle of blood from the corner of your lip.

“I think only you could look like an angel even when a building exploded around us.”

Kaz saw you smile through the pain, and every effort to be strong he tried to put up was whisked away by the look on your face as his shoulders fell. He could have collapsed back to the floor, letting the sleep take him away, had it not been for the way you smiled at him. Of course, he was in pain too, but it was insurmountable to the pain caused by the sight before him. His heart raced, wondering just how he would manage to drag the two of you out of this as his own limbs grew weary and tired from trying to sit up.

“I think you should get a demo man, Jesper always wanted one.”

Kaz, exhaled, letting out a brief chuckle.

“Why should I when half of your inventions explode anyway? We’ll have plenty more to come.”

There was a tinge of fear to his voice, hidden by the hope that you would make it til morning, and you could hear it; he didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t let Pekka Rollins take someone else from him, even if it meant waiting until his last breath to take his life.

You rolled your eyes at him, the pain slowly starting to return as you gazed at the ceiling.

You kept your heart beating, your blood flowing, but you tried to pull yourself closer to Kaz only to sink back into the floor with defeat and suddenly, your chest started to rise and fall quicker. This couldn’t be it. You were stronger than this. You had to survive—if not for the Crows, but for him. Perhaps, you were being too hopeful after all.

“Kaz.” you croaked out, looking back at him with the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“YN, we will be okay.” he said, his voice stern as if he could read your mind.

Suddenly, when he was within reach, you clasped his gloved hand and forced as much life into him as you could, watching him become caught off guard as his heart began to race.

“No.” he pleads.

Kaz tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“You need to conserve your energy. We need to get out of here before the Stadwatch find us in the middle of this.”

“I’m saving you so you can save the both of us!” you argued, using his hand to pull yourself a little closer, both of you straining to bring yourselves together. But you paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “One of us needs to make it out of here tonight and I’m the only one who can make sure of it.”

Kaz finally pulls his hand away, and you watch him fight against everything that brought him down to sit up, leaning his back on the heavy chandelier and the remnants of the ceiling that supported it. He shut his eyes for a moment, and you watch the connection between you break as he becomes overly drained, still thinking desperately of a way out of this. As he sat there, you too fought against the pain coursing through every nerve of your body, the bullets lodged within you taunting your beaten soul as you tried to sit yourself up too. The cracked bones in your wrist made you gasp when you tried to put pressure on it, but you fought through it for one last push as you sat yourself up against the chandelier just a foot away with him.

“I cannot leave here alone. I can’t go back if you’re not with me.” Kaz said slowly, his head turning to you.

Now that you two were closer to each other, you could see just how hurt he was.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to grasp his hand again, but blood spattered through your lips as you coughed it up.

Black spots danced across your vision, and you slowly start to fall over.

Kaz’s breath hitched, and his arms moved before he could even think to do so, dragging you towards him.

The moment you felt his arms around you, you came back to your senses, looking up at him from where your head lay on his chest.

“Kaz, you don’t—”

“I-I have to.” He says, shuddering slightly.

Kaz’s mind could not seem to push away the suffocating feeling your touch brought, and he found himself looking away, trying to fight off the horrifying memories of the ocean swallowing him whole. 

But he squeezed you tight, all flesh and bone still warm with life, trying to push out the gruesome images of his last memories with Jordie. You were alive in his arms, and he wouldn’t live to see the day you weren’t despite their odds right now.

For so long, you dreamed of the day Kaz could hold your hand, even let his knuckles brush by yours. But you never thought this is how it would go.

“It’s because I’m dying, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Kaz looks down at you, already accepting the defeat of the night, and he is almost too horrified to speak as your eyes seemed calmer now than from the second you finally regained consciousness.

“It’s because—”

He pauses, looking away from you and you hang on to every word.

The only thing he wanted to do was hold you, hating himself for never doing it sooner.

“It’s okay, Kaz.” you smile sadly. “There was going to be a day when I’d watch you all grow old and leave me, but if I don’t make it through this, at least I won’t have to watch that happen.”

There was a million things you could say, a million things you built up for years since the day you saw him. In all that time you never imagined it all coming down to this and you were just so tired, but you wanted to hear him say the words.

“But I want to hear you say it.” You said, your voice growing quiet.

No matter how much you tried to justify letting go, you didn’t want to. Your heart beat for him as you looked up at him and all you wanted to do was hear him say those words.

As your eyelids became heavy, you tried to focus on the way your heart beat alongside his, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could fight for the two of you, but his heart was already racing. You loved the sound of it, remembering every time you would hear it jump the moment you stepped into a room.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for me to hold you and tell you the words you want to hear.”

Kaz was fighting for his life and his urge to finally tell the truth about everything. The way he hated when you’d sit on his desk, play with his jacket when there was a slight hair out of place, and he hated how even now you were fighting to keep both of you alive. But there was the way he loved watching you outwit everyone of the Dregs when they played at the tables, the way he loved when you’d doze off in his office after a long day of working with your tools and so much more he hated himself for only paying attention to now.

“Are you going to make me do everything?” you ask, weakly smiling, hiding your face as your hot tears stained his chest.

You could feel him smile, and you could also feel your energy draining by the second.

“I love you, Kaz. Until my last breath.” you said, fearing this would be your last.

The words were on both of their minds, yet, Kaz couldn’t wrap his head around it and when you said it, his lips parted ever so slightly, staring ahead at the rubble as if that was the biggest shock to come of the night. Those words were foreign to him, they belonged to a shell of who he was and he couldn’t allow himself to accept it. His heart ached though, almost wanting to hear it again from your lips.

But then, when his heart suddenly slowed and he felt your hand leave his chest, Kaz looked down at you in a panic.

“YN…” he whispered urgently.

“I’m here.” you murmured; your eyes closed.

It felt so nice to shut them for a moment.

Kaz looked down at you, everything in him spinning, and he was ready to march you out of here now to get help but even then, as he tried to move, the pain in his body kept him grounded. Sighing in defeat, he smacked his head against the back of the chandelier and rubble he leaned upon, wanting to scream or yell and curse the world for making him so weak. His mind lingered back to the waters, Jordie’s molted and rotten skin at his fingertips, while he kicked back to the harbor swimming against all odds.

“I love you too, YN.” he said, the words cutting through the silence around them.

Deep down, he didn’t want to say the words out loud, knowing they might be the last he says to you. He yearned for more time to love you, to stroke the hair off your face as he did now as the corner of your lips turned upwards. 

It made him forget to breathe as he frantically searched around, wondering if there was a way out.

But the exhaustion was tearing him apart and he looked down at you one last time, the smile off your face as your head rolled slightly. 

It wasn’t long before his eyes closed too.

~

“I found them!” 

The Dregs were scouring the rubble after they heard the explosion from the rendezvous point, Jesper and Inej running back after seeing that the two of you never made it. 

When the pair heard one of the Dregs call out, the pair exchanged a worried look before pushing through the remnants of the mansion. They feared they would find your mangeled bodies waiting for them, but they skidded to a halt when they saw something else entirely.

Jesper’s face fell, as Inej’s hand clamped over her mouth, watching as Rotty checked their pulses, the man’s hands shaking as they checked. 

“They’re still breathing!” Rotty shouted with relief. “Let’s move them out of here, they’re hurt pretty bad.”

But Inej and Jesper could not move just yet, staring with teary eyes from the overwhelming release of the weight on their shoulders. You sat curled up alongside Kaz, his arms wrapped around you, holding so tightly they could have swore he turned to stone. 

There was no time to waste though, and they ran to you and Kaz to drag the two of you out to safety. 

[sakusasmolesryn]

KNY - Demon Slayer  Kyojuro Rengoku x gn!reader fluff one shot

• Welcome Home •

Summary: Kyojurou comes home from a mission, after being deprived of him, feelings start unfolding and relations go forward

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Kyojurou Rengoku x gn!reader

It’s been 4 days ever since Kyojuro left for a mission. He mentioned it was quite a bit away, but you didn’t expect him to be gone for this long. You’ve been training under his wing for over a year now and you’ve made a lot of progress since then. You’ve been a demon slayer ever since you were 14, but it wasn’t till recently you started working with a hashira in hopes of becoming one. Rengoku saw a lot of potential in you, even if you two were close in age. “You still have plenty of time to become a hashira,” he tells you over and over. “Stay focused, concentrate on your breathing, and set your heart ablaze.”

You spend a lot of time during the day with Kyo. Whenever you’re not training, you, Kyojuro, and Senjuro will have fun together and hang out. You were very close to the Rengoku family, even Shinjuro somewhat enjoyed having you around. Senjuro likes to spy on your training, he likes to tease you about liking his brother.

Even though it’s only been 4 days, you missed him a lot. You couldn’t wait to see him come back home and spend every minute with him. He wasn’t battling an upper or lower moon demon, but 5 amateur demons in a small village north. Perhaps he got held up with another mission? Or maybe he was in a clinic residence? Surely his crow would’ve come and updated you by now. You started getting anxious about his whereabouts when suddenly Senjuro came running towards you screaming.

“[Reader]!! Kyo is home! He just got here!” upon those words, you jumped to your feet faster than lightning, sprinting to the front of the Rengoku manor. “Kyojuro!” You ran to him at full speed tackling him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home, big bro! [reader], and I was so worried!” Senjuro joined the tackle as you both laid on top of Kyojuro on the ground. “Well, you both must be happy to see me considering you tackled me to the ground,” Kyojuro stated.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” you looked up at him into his eyes. He looked uninjured but he didn’t look as joyful as always. “How was your mission? And how are you feeling?” You helped both Kyo and Senjuro up and walked alongside them both inside. “My mission was successful. Unfortunately the demons I had to slaughter had pretty bad reasoning forever becoming a demon, I may have even been a little touched by their stories. But I assure you they died peacefully and free from the pain that has been thrown to them. As for me, I feel great. Left without any severe injuries.”

“What took you so long?” Senjuro looked up at his brother with concern. “Ah. After my mission, I was called to join Shinazugawa on his task. He ended up getting another slash so I stayed with him for two days while he was recovering at the Butterfly Mansion. I’m sorry I didn’t send a message. You both must’ve been so worried.”

You took his hand in yours, “Don’t worry about it, Kyo. We’re just glad you’re safe. Now come inside, I’m making dinner. And it’s your favorite! Sweet Potato salad.” You’ve never seen that man run faster into the house, him and his sweet potatoes.

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“Tasty!” You sat next to him as Kyojuro finished off his 5th plate. You chuckled, “I’m so glad you enjoy it. I’ve missed you so much I made sure to make it extra special.” Senjuro finished his plate quite a bit ago and went out to do some garden work before sunset.

“Tasty! Thank you so much, [reader]. I thoroughly enjoyed it. The best meal I’ve had in a hot minute.” His smile was always so bright, and it never failed to make you smile in return. You stood up adjusting your attire and took your and Kyojuro’s bowls to be washed. “It’s starting to get late. The sun will be down soon. I should probably get going,” you said. “I’m really glad you’re home Kyo. Are we training tomorrow?”

“Actually, do you think you could stay here tonight?” he asked. “I want to stay up and have a conversation with you.” He sounded pretty serious, but who were you to decline. “Oh- alright. That shouldn’t be a problem then. Should I tell Shinjuro?” Kyo shook his head, implying his father probably wouldn’t even notice you spent the night, considering he spends most of his time in his room.

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You and Kyojuro sat together in the garden looking up into the stars. “I missed you a lot, [reader] while I was on my mission.” His voice was softer than it normally is, also keeping a low tone since Senjuro and Shinjuro are sleeping. “When I listened to Sanemi talk about how much he missed his girlfriend back home, it made me think about how lucky I am to come home to you, my brother, and my father.” he cleared his throat turning his face towards yours. “Thank you so much, [reader]. For always being there for me and my family.”

You couldn’t help but get a little flush from his words. He always knew what to say to pull your heartstrings. His love and praise always sent butterflies to your stomach, and he cared about you more than anyone else. “I’m hoping that you feel the same,” he breaks the small silence. “I’m hoping that you feel the same way I do about you, [reader]. I realized I want to be with you more than just a friend.” His eyes were filled with love as he stared at you.

“Kyo, where is this coming from? I’m not complaining. But I’m curious.”

“While staying with Sanemi, and hearing about how much he loves his girlfriend, and why. It made me realize that everything he said was the same reason why I love you,” he grabs your hand and places a soft kiss on top of your knuckles. “Please tell me you love me too,”

“I do.”

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You spent that night cuddling with Kyojuro and falling asleep in his arms. The next day, you planned to have a day with just him. You wanted to go to the city and visit shops together, and meet up with Tengen and Obanai for lunch. “Two bowls of udon please.” The four of you sat together enjoying the food and time together. You and Obanai have always been close too. When you first started training under Rengoku, he would visit to join the training as well. But after a while, he stopped coming. Kyojuro believes it’s because he spends his time with Mitsuri.

“We should get going,” Tengen said. “My wives are gonna pester me about not spending enough time with them. “Yeah. I should get going too. Mitsuri and I have plans,” Obanai left behind Tengen leaving you and Kyojuro alone. It was hard to believe that this was the first day of being Kyojuro’s significant other. You were both so open to each other, and nothing felt odd. He was even starting to look more handsome than before, but that may just be because you fall in love with him all over again every time you see him.

“What do you say, [reader]? Shall we head back? We can either go to my residence or yours.” It wasn’t often that he came home with you. He did once but you never invited him back over because your family was kind of loud. As if Rengoku wasn’t loud either. “Let’s go back to your place. My family might be home and I don’t want to deal with them right now.” as the two of you headed back, Kyojuro paused and picked up flowers from the ground, handing multiple to you. “They’re radiant, like you.” Again, his words never fail to swoon.

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For the next two weeks, you and Rengoku spent every moment together. But of course, you had to include Senjuro here and there. You started growing closer and closer, thinking it was impossible since you were already so close. Being with Rengoku felt like time stopped. And that you two were the only ones alive. He showered you in love and appreciation, and he never once allowed you to feel incompetent. He never wants to let you go, and he couldn’t feel more blessed to be with you. “I love you, [reader].”