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[needtricks-blog]

Demystifying Instagram Reels Monetization Requirements

Instagram Reels Monetization Requirements. Instagram Reels – the captivating playground where videos dance, trends ignite, and audiences gather. But for creators, a glimmer of gold shines even brighter: monetization. Turning those captivating clicks into cold, hard cash is a dream many pursue, but navigating the requirements can feel like deciphering hieroglyphics. Continue reading Untitled

[megalony]

You've Earned It

It's been a while, but here is a new Jim Street imagine, requested by a lovely mutual. I hope you will all like this one.

I'm trying to get a few more Swat ideas in motion at the moment.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713

Swat Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is on maternity leave, but she pops into Swat to visit the team. But when a situation breaks out and they go on lock down, (Y/n)'s water breaks.

Enjoy.

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A strange smirk danced across (Y/n)'s face when she took the visitor's badge she was handed and clipped it onto her waist. It wasn't often that (Y/n) had to wear this kind of badge when she came into Swat headquarters like this. It almost made her feel like an outsider.

She didn't feel like part of Swat when she was demoted to being a visitor, but then again, (Y/n) could understand that it was for security. They had to log people in and out, no matter who they were, when they came to visit. Just in case there was a security risk or they had a fire and had to evacuate so they knew everyone was out safely.

Her bag tapped against her side and she tightened her hand around the leather handle so her bag stopped trying to slide down her shoulder.

Her shoes clicked against the tiled floor and her eyes scanned around as she slowly headed towards the gym that she hadn't used in quite a few months.

A tender look crossed her face and she briefly tilted her head down when her eyes caught on a familiar figure approaching her.

"Who let you back in the building?" Hondo's deep voice was followed by a laugh that made (Y/n)'s smile change back into a smirk and when she lifted her head, she saw he was aiming right for her. His arms stretched out to reel her in for a hug.

It had been a while since (Y/n) had seen Hondo, granted they had messaged a bit over the last few weeks, but that was different to seeing him in person. Especially when she used to see him every other day for almost twelve or fifteen hours at a time when they worked together.

But it had all changed since (Y/n) got pregnant.

She was one of the few women in Swat and that meant the contracts had to be updated to allow maternity leave to be introduced. (Y/n) had been on amended duties, restricted to living in the base and not allowed to attend any of the raids or calls they went out on. She was their eyes and ears, living in the computer room. Until she had to take early maternity leave.

"Haven't you missed me?" (Y/n) countered, folding her arms over her chest when they finally parted.

She watched Hondo lean on his back foot and place his hands on his hips as he grinned and looked around the gym.

"You know we have, it's not the same here without you. Deak, look who dropped by."

Deacon looked like he had been aiming to walk in a different direction, but the moment his eyes locked on (Y/n), a grin spread across his face and he switched to jog over to them instead. (Y/n) loved the way he looped an arm around her shoulders and reeled her into his side like he hadn't seen her in months rather than a matter of weeks.

"Hey! What're you doing here, how are you?"

"I'm good, got a bit lonely so thought I'd come and brighten the place up for a while."

Everyone had been more understanding than (Y/n) first thought when she and Jim told them that they were expecting their first baby. (Y/n) thought it would change things too much. She was worried that when they got someone to take her spot out in the field while she helped in the computer room, that it would become permanent. (Y/n) worked hard to get her place on the team and she didn't want to lose that because she wanted to have a family.

But the team had been so encouraging and warm and understanding, if anything it seemed to bring them closer together.

And when (Y/n) had to go to hospital last month, the team had been understanding then too. Hondo got Jim's shifts covered so he could be with (Y/n) for a week. She had started to have contractions and they thought she was having the baby early, but the doctors had managed to stop them and get everything back under control.

That meant (Y/n) had to go on early leave so she wouldn't be too stressed or overwhelmed and go into early labour.

But Jim was still working, and (Y/n) didn't like being home alone without him like this. She wanted to be with people, with her family, and she thought it might be good to come here and see the team for a little while.

"Let's go get a drink, I think Street's in the kitchen."

(Y/n) nodded and let them steer her towards the kitchen. Somehow, it felt strange to be back here when she knew she still had months left on leave where she would hardly be visiting at all. Swat was a busy place, visiting was allowed and encouraged but it wasn't always possible with how busy their teams got. (Y/n) knew that better than anybody.

But she also knew that once their baby was born, Jim would want to bring them here to show them off to everyone at least once.

When they headed into the kitchen, (Y/n) slumped her bag down onto the counter so she dind't have to keep lugging it around with her.

Her eyes set on Jim immediately and it made a smile pull at her lips when she looked at him. He had his back to them, one hip cocked out at the side and his head at an angle while he poured himself and Chris a drink.

Heading over to them, (Y/n) kept her steps light and the moment she was close enough, she bound her arms around Jim's waist making him shudder. His body pressed into the counter like he was expecting someone to try and tackle him to the ground. But he soon recognised who was binding themselves to him. Not that many people would come up and hug him, especially at work.

If it was Chris hugging him it was usually because something was wrong or one of them needed comfort. And if it was Luca he slung an arm around Jim's neck and reeled him in for a sideways bear hug. So the only logical person who would be hugging him so fondly and tightly like this would be his wife.

He felt (Y/n)'s face pressing into his back between his shoulder blades and his lips curved into a smile when her hands pressed down into his chest and he could feel her bump moulding up against his lower back near his hips.

"Hey baby, what're you doing here?" He slid a cup across to Chris before he reached his hand down to give (Y/n)'s hand a squeeze.

He stayed pressed up into the counter, sipping on his drink for a moment before (Y/n) finally relented and took a few steps back so he could turn around in her arms. He left his cup on the counter and slung his arm around the back of her shoulders and the other around her waist.

The signature grin lit up Jim's face and he tilted his head down so he could steal a kiss from her lips. She wasn't on shift like he was, (Y/n) was clearly here on a passing visit which meant there were no rules against showing any PDA. None of the team cared if Jim wrapped himself around his wife or if he kissed her, they wouldn't say anything.

"I got lonely." It wasn't fun being home alone when her partner and all their friends were here at work. (Y/n) felt like she was missing out on something. She didn't like being on her own.

She could feel Jim smiling against her skin when he peppered a few kisses along her cheek and down her neck. He knew she would be restless at home, he was surprised she hadn't turned up here before now.

When she turned around, (Y/n) leaned her head back on Jim's shoulder and her back into his chest just a little, not wanting to use him as a leaning post but it was very tempting. She felt his right arm loop around her waist, hand settling on her stomach while he reached over and grabbed his coffee. Both of them watching as Hondo and Deacon set about getting some drinks from the fridge.

"So, what have I missed?" (Y/n) kindly shook her head when Deacon offered one of the juice bottles out to her.

She wasn't thirsty. She didn't feel great today, one of the reasons she had stopped by. She was feeling restless and her headache had been blinding her all morning. Being around the team felt like something that would keep her occupied and take her mind off how uncomfortable she was beginning to feel.

"As if Street hasn't already been keeping you updated." Deacon tilted his head to one side with raised brows that dared them to say he was wrong.

They weren't stupid. They knew Jim would go home and tell (Y/n) all the strange, crazy and hard calls she was missing while she was off work. She wanted to be kept in the loop and like she was still part of the team while she was off.

"Alright, what have I missed today?" She countered while she switched her weight from one leg to the other to see if it would help with the pain in her lower back. It didn't do much.

"Today? Nothing."

A conversation began to flow through the kitchen while (Y/n) started to drum her fingertips on the counter beside her. She didn't feel great. She tried to focus on the feeling of Jim's fingers twitching against her stomach like he always did whenever he was near her.

Her features softened and she leaned further back into Jim when she felt him murmur "You good?" against the shell of her ear.

She managed a nod and hummed back as she pressed her lips against the tip of his jaw.

"Well, how about we-" Whatever Hondo was about to say got abruptly cut off when one of the warning tones started blaring out through the speakers. That wasn't one of their drills, and they didn't have any emergency drills or fire alarm testings scheduled for today.

All of them tilted their heads back as if a reason or explanation would flash across the air above their heads along with the sirens. That wasn't a fire drill. It wasn't an evacuation drill and it wasn't a training exercise.

It was the emergency alarm.

(Y/n) felt both Jim's hands move down to hold her hips as his chest stiffened and pressed up into her back while she gripped the counter tighter. All eyes fell on Hondo who quickly pointed to the kitchen.

"Let's find out what's going on."

All of them followed him from the kitchen, briskly walking down the hall until their eyes locked on Commander Hicks approaching the gym from the stairs. Luca was already near the boxing ring along with Rocker and his team. A light shone in Luca's eyes when he glanced over at (Y/n) who he hadn't known was here. He nodded his chin and smiled briefly at her before their attention went back to Hicks.

"Commander, what's happening?" Hondo's hands fell to his hips as they all gathered around, usure why some people wre rushing upstairs or down the back corridor towards the car park.

"A suspect in our custody was just about to be transported from base. We don't know how, but someone found out he was here, started shooting before the car got out of base."

That didn't sound good. (Y/n) had come in on a day that had gone from boring to chaotic in less than ten minutes.

"Rocker, I want your team outside, get that prisoner back inside and those shooters under control. Everyone else stay inside, this place is on lock down. They knew he was here somehow."

They all knew what that meant. Either someone had seen the suspect arrested and knew where he was being taken, or someone on the inside had alerted others that he was here. Either solution wasn't great but they had to get this situation under control. It wasn't safe for anyone to be going out in this mess unless they really had to.

They couldn't try and evacuate the prisoner from here and transport him if the shooters were still observing from outside. And that meant no one else could leave either in case they became targets.

Rocker darted off to assemble his team and come up with a plan while the rest of them shared confused and rather worried looks. Were they just meant to stay inside and observe? Make sure everyone here was okay and keep the situation under control? Could they not do anything else to help?

Except (Y/n), of course. She wasn't technically meant to be here, she was a visitor and as such she couldn't do anything to help the team. Not that she could do much anyway except for go and try to help in the computer room.

"I take it I'm staying too?" (Y/n) tried to smile and her head tilted at an angle when she caught the commander's eye.

He seemed to do a double take, as if he had either not noticed her presence or forgot she was here ni a visiting capacity rather than a work ethic.

"Oh… yeah, sorry (Y/n). For the time being you're stuck here with us."

She nodded while she felt Jim's hands on her hips and his lips and nose meshing against the back of her head. It wouldn't be safe for (Y/n) to try and make a quick exit back home, not with a shooter somewhere outside. Until everyone else could leave safely, (Y/n)'s best bet was to stay here with her team.

It would make her day interesting rather than going home and sitting on her own feeling bored.

Although (Y/n) did feel like she wanted to sit down, the ache in her lower back was steadily getting more and more uncomfortable. And her stomach felt unusually heavy.

"Let's go get a plan in motion and check any available security cameras."

(Y/n) felt Jim squeeze her hips in a silent request for her to follow along with them. There was no point (Y/n) sitting around and waiting when she could still try and help them. They were all going to be working from within the base right now, (Y/n) could easily tag along even if it was just to observe and stop herself from getting bored.

The pair of them followed along with the rest of the team towards the computer room and (Y/n) prayed the air con would be on in there. She was starting to burn up in here.

When they all blundered through into the computer room, (Y/n) moved over to one side so she would be out the way. She didn't want to be in the middle of the room, not when she wasn't going to have a lot of input and she wasn't technically working either. Nor did she want too many eyes on her when she didn't feel well.

It might be worth her while to go and sit in the kitchen for a while and grab a drink after all.

"Alright?" Jim whispered into the top of her head before he moved to stand beside her.

His arms folded over his chest and he cocked one knee forward while he watched Luca move over to grab an IPad which he connected to the big screen at the back of the room. He was loading up a map so they could work out what to do and where they could put Rocker's team so they would be hidden away in blindspots to give them some advantages.

Hunching forward, (Y/n) laid her arms on the table in front of her and sank her teeth down into her lip. Leaning forward like this made her feel a bit better, but she still felt like she should leave the room.

Her eyes danced around the room, seeing the commander and Hondo trying to come up with a game plan while Deacon helped Luca find some more maps.

She could barely focus or register what anyone was saying, she just felt like blending into the walls and disappearing. It wasn't like anyone was asking for her help anyway, (Y/n) and about five other Swat members were just crammed into the room, silent but observing.

When Jim waltzed over to the screen and started pointing out advantage points and security cameras on the streets, (Y/n) took that as her moment to try and disappear unknowingly.

She pushed up off the counter and carefully tried weaving past the desk, towards the other side of the room. She could go down the back corridor and get to the kitchen. If anyone noticed her going, they would know where she was aiming for.

Her left hand dragged up and down the back of her neck as she stuck close to the wall in case she needed some help with balance and to try and blend in.

She kept glancing her eyes around the room as if she was checking if anyone noticed her trying to make a slow disappearance. She locked eyes with Deacon who looked her up and down and rose a brow, asking a silent question to check she was alright and where she was going.

But he quickly thrust the tablet in his hand down on the desk in favour of reaching out for (Y/n) when she stumbled.

"Woah, you okay?" His voice was quiet, trying in vain not to catch any attention, but when he noticed where (Y/n) was looking, he followed her line of sight.

He had one hand on her back and the other on her arm while (Y/n) held onto his forearm with both hands to steady herself. Her eyes were cast down on the floor and Deacon felt the shudder that passed through her, and when he looked down, he realised what the problem was.

Her waters had broken.

"Uh Street, we have a situation." He gently squeezed (Y/n)'s arm while he looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with Jim. Although Deacon's statement had caught the attention of everyone who stopped what they were talking about to try and see what was going on.

"What? Oh, oh shit." Jim's wide brown eyes deepened and his lips parted but no more words filtered past his lips when he weaved round the table and looked over at his wife.

His hands found her waist and her hand, taking over from Deacon who took a step back once he knew (Y/n) was alright and not about to topple over.

Her head leaned back on Jim's shoulder as a petrified, apologetic expression flooded her face. She hadn't meant for this to happen. If (Y/n) knew the discomfort she had been feeling was because she was going to go into labour she wouldn't of come down to the base to see them. Not if she knew it would end with her waters breaking here, right when they were in the middle of a situation.

But then again, if she had stayed at home, she wouldn't of had Jim here with her from the start. And who knows what time he would of gotten to her after this whole situation was sorted out.

"Deak, what's up?"

"My water broke… I- I'm sorry," (Y/n) darted her eyes down before she looked up at Hondo as if she were about to burst into tears.

A round of "Oh Hell," and "Damn, that changes the plans," chorused through the air while (Y/n) squeezed Jim's hand and leaned back into him a little. She felt his hand slither round from her back to cup the side of her stomach while he leaned his chest down into her back.

His eyes darted around the room, gaging the expressions of the team whilst also waiting for someone to tell him what they were planning to do. If this place was on lockdown, Jim couldn't exactly walk out those doors and get his wife in the car to take her to the hospital.

"How long are we on lockdown?"

"Until the situation outside is contained." The look in Hicks's eyes was wavering, despite his calm, if cold, expression. He understood. He knew this was a serious situation for (Y/n) and Jim and he knew they would want to get out of here and get home and to the hospital as soon as possible.

"What do we do then?" Luca leaned on the desk and looked up at Hicks before glancing over at the couple opposite him. This wasn't an ideal situation, they would have to work something out.

"I need to take her to home-"

"Street, you'll both have to stay here. We can't risk you going out there without that shooter contained. Staying inside is the best bet right now, I'm sorry."

"Then I hope one of you is a midwife." Jim's snappy response caught everyone off guard and no one had a response for that, not even Hicks.

They didn't know how long it was going to take for them to contain the shooter and get their suspect evacuated from here and transported into custody. They didn't know what was going to happen within the base right now and how long lockdown was going to take. Hopefully it wouldn't take long, but Hicks wasn't going to take any risks.

He wasn't allowing anyone to leave the base until they knew for certain that everything was under control. (Y/n) was here as a visitor and that meant her safety was their concern. He wouldn't let her get hurt while she was here under their protection as a visitor and member of the public, not to mention they were all like one big family here.

"Can I sit down?" (Y/n) looked up behind her at Jim who was about to usher her with him to grab a chair when Hicks waved his hand out at them.

"Come on, you can both wait in my office until we can get you safely out of here."

That was a solution, for the time being. But it wasn't a long term solution and (Y/n) prayed they could go home soon. They needed to get ready, to get their maternity bag and the car seat and everything they needed from home. And they had to go get booked into the maternity ward at the hospital when the contractions got close.

They couldn't stay here for long, (Y/n) was in labour and the baby wasn't going to wait forever.

***

(Y/n) closed her eyes and buried her face in the arm of the sofa, smothering a groan. Her back was starting to ache and twinge from how she was sat hunched over, but she didn't know what to do with herself anymore. The contractions were getting worse and they were still at headquarters.

It didn't feel right to be sitting here in Hicks's office, but it was the best place to be right now. It was shut off from the rest of Swat, private and gave them room to move about or sit down, depending on what (Y/n) felt like doing.

She took as many deep breaths as she could manage, but it felt like her lungs were on fire. They were burning like she was breathing in smoke and she could feel her lungs inflating and deflating which was something (Y/n) never normally took notice of. And it was horrid.

"We're down to less than five minutes apart now." Chris looked down at her phone before she looked over at Jim who was sat on the sofa next to his wife.

He had one hand on (Y/n)'s back and the other clutching his knee like he was Bruce Banner doing his best not to turn into the Hulk. He looked over at one of his closest friends who had been timing the contractions for them. Chris was sat on the desk chair she had wheeled over towards the sofa. Her knees spread apart, elbows on her thighs and her phone now being tossed from one hand to the other to distract herself.

They both knew what this meant. If they didn't leave soon, there wouldn't be time to get (Y/n) to the hospital.

"I'll go find Hicks-"

"Don't you go anywhere!" (Y/n) clutched her hand around Jim's wrist before he had chance to lean away from her, let alone try and get up from the sofa.

She wasn't having him disappear around the base, she wasn't having Jim leave her alone for a second, not for anything. Their baby was coming and he had to stay with her, (Y/n) wasn't doing any of this alone.

"I'll go-" Chris didn't have chance to offer before there was a knock at the door and Hondo, Deacon and Luca filed into the room.

All three of them looked around like they weren't sure what they were expecting to find, but Jim's stern expression wasn't on their list. He looked livid. They had been stuck here for hours and time was dwindling away along with their chances of getting (Y/n) safely to a hospital to have this baby.

"Can we go now?" The determination in Jim's voice was like nothing any of them had ever heard before and the way he raised one brow made them all feel like school children about to be told off.

"The man in custody still hasn't been transported yet and Rocker's team haven't found all of the suspects. We can escort you outta here as soon as they've been found."

"By then it's gonna be too late. This is fucking Swat, we have to do something!"

Jim tightened his hand around (Y/n)'s while he slammed his other hand down on his thigh. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to be at home when (Y/n)'s water broke. She was supposed to be safe. Jim was supposed to drive her to the hospital and be there with her when she had the baby, not be here at work under lockdown.

Since the moment he met (Y/n), Jim wanted things to be different. He wanted their relationship to be like how he always dreamed. The opposite of his parent's marriage. He wanted to have kids with her and give his kids a stable upbringing and a loving home. He wanted (Y/n) and their baby to have a safe birth, not something unconventional like this.

"Ooh," (Y/n) closed her eyes and smushed her face into the arm rest again while she tugged on Jim's hand. "T-this baby's coming. Someone's g… gonna have to help me!"

The desperation in (Y/n)'s voice was coupled with tears soaking into the sofa as she groaned in agony. If they wouldn't take her to hospital, then one of them was going to have to do something. She couldn't have this baby by herself and her body was telling her it was time.

A look seemed to pass between them all before Deacon rolled his eyes at the team and crouched down in front of (Y/n).

"Would you be okay with me helping you? I'm not exactly trained, but I've been through this four times already." Deacon rested his hand on (Y/n)'s knee as he waited patiently for her to talk to him.

He was by no means qualified as a midwife and he wasn't an expert on labour and giving birth, but he had four kids. Deacon had been there for every birth and he had seen them all play out. He cut the cords with each child as well so he had some expertise in this area. He would help until they could get some medics down here.

(Y/n) twisted her head so her cheek was meshed into the sofa and she nodded with a pleading look in her eyes. She didn't care who helped her, she would let any of the team coach her through this if they knew what to do. She just needed help.

She went back to clutching Jim's hand and she held it to her chest while she sat up properly and sank back into the sofa. Her head fell onto Jim's shoulder when he shuffled up so he was sat beside her with his left arm around the back of her shoulders. His lips attached to the side of her head while Deacon crouched in front of them to see if (Y/n) was dilated or not.

This was definitely going to change the dynamics when (Y/n) eventually came back to work. The team weren't supposed to be here or be involved in the birth of their baby.

"Okay, this baby is coming now. Luca, we're gonna need towels, hot water, blankets and a medic bag from inventory."

"I'm on it." Luca was out the door in a flash to go and grab what they needed, fist-bumping the air at the thought of having a kid be born at Swat. This was going to be a first.

"Alright… I think you can start pushing whenever you're ready."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to be doing this here. As much as (Y/n) loved the team who were now her family, having one of them delivering her baby felt a little too close for comfort. She was changing the boundaries. Giving Deacon a scarred image burned into his mind for life.

She briefly looked up when she noticed movement. It was Hondo, moving towards the desk at the other side of the room so it didn't look like he was being a spectator. He knew it wasn't nice for (Y/n) to be doing this here and he didn't want to observe or make her feel uncomfortable.

He reached out for the phone on the desk so he could send a call through to the Commander and let him know what was happening. And to tell him they would have to send out for an ambulance.

"I'm scared," (Y/n) could barely find her voice and when she did, her breathing hitched and her voice came out higher than usual but at half the volume. She was barely talking above a whisper.

"You don't have to be scared, I'm right here, we're all here." Jim pressed a kiss to her cheek and squeezed her into his chest. They were going to look after her, she was with some of the safest people in the country. It would be okay.

He looked behind Deacon who was looking around the room for anything he might have to use if they got desperate, and looked over towards Chris. As if they were sharing the same thought, Chris scooted the desk chair around until she was beside the sofa.

When she held her hand out in front of (Y/n), a panicked smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips and she took her friend's hand. Having Chris on one side, and Jim attached to her other side made (Y/n) feel protected and safe.

And she heard Chris whisper a quiet but encouraging "You got this." which made her feel a little better.

"Alright alright I think I got everything we need to have the first kid born in Swat."

Luca sounded like a cheerleader pumping them up for a big game rather than a team member trying to help a friend have a baby. But his excitement was somehow soothing and made a smile light up Jim's face, despite the panic he was feeling surging through his body right now.

Deacon was rather impressed that Luca remembered everything and managed to carry it all up here.

He set down a pile of towels beside the sofa, two blankets, one of which he handed out to Jim so it could be draped over (Y/n)'s lap for modesty. He dumped the medic bag from his shoulder and a bowl of warm water next to Deacon.

(Y/n) tried to push back into the sofa and brace her feet properly on the floor so she wasn't at risk of sliding down into Deacon's lap. The last thing she wanted was to end up hurting him or landing on the floor. And she watched through blurry eyes as he washed his hands thoroughly, found some gloves in the medic bag and got a towel on his lap.

They were really doing this here. In the Commander's office.

"Okay, I think you're crowning."

(Y/n) felt a little better when Jim leaned his chin on her shoulder and she coiled their entwined hands closer to merge their hands against her chest.

This wasn't the way either of them dreamt about having their first child together, but it was comforting to have the team around them. (Y/n) couldn't of done this alone at home or amongst strangers if the team hadn't of been here at the right time.

She tried to smile when she felt Jim attaching his lips to her neck and she leaned to the right to press her side more into his embrace to try and keep herself relaxed as much as possible.

"Okay (Y/n), I need you to do big pushes, let's have this kid." Deacon pushed up on his knees and moved his hands to (Y/n)'s thighs, seeing the familiar sight of a head being born.

"You're doing so well," Jim murmured against her neck as he darted his eyes around the office he hadn't spent more than a minute in at a time.

It was strange to be sat, almost relaxing, in the Commander's office. This was somewhere the whole squad usually felt uncomfortable, where they would come to if they had a problem or if they thought they were going to get reprimanded for something. This wasn't somewhere they would sit and chat and definitely not somewhere (Y/n) imagined she would be having her baby.

The next time she came to Commander Hicks's office in the future, this was going to be the memory that always came to mind.

"I can't believe I'm actually here for this." Chris gave (Y/n)'s hand a tight squeeze and the grin on her face made (Y/n)'s heart skip.

They had already told Chris that she was Godmother to their baby, there was no question about it. Not when she was Jim's best friend and she had always been there for the couple, it was only fitting that she would be their child's auntie and Godmother.

But Chris didn't think she would get the honour of witnessing her godchild's birth. She was expecting to be the first person to receive the phone call to say the baby was born, but this was even better.

(Y/n) pulled her knees up a little higher and leaned forward, feeling grateful when Jim leaned with her. He was like a backboard keeping her up straight and letting her lean her weight onto him so she didn't have to think or bother with holding herself upright.

"And the head's out, take a breath. Then little pushes, okay? You're doing great (Y/n)."

(Y/n) tried to nod and it was a relief to see that Deacon didn't look at all phased or panicked. He looked as calm as if he were leading them on a callout or giving them orders around base. This seemed to be a natural occurrence for Deacon.

Just a little more effort, and she would have a baby in her arms. All the pain would be worth it when she saw their baby and watched them be placed into Jim's arms. All his life since he was ten years old, all Jim ever wanted was a family. He'd grown up for the first decade of his life with bickering, fighting parents and a sense of fear and dread towards his father. After he went into foster care, he felt a gratitude towards his mum that he could never repay, she made him believe she had saved his life and gave him guilt.

All he wanted in the system was to be let out and live with a loving family, he wanted something to call his own.

Now, Jim had that. He was about to have a family of his own that would love him unconditionally and be his and his alone. He would have (Y/n) and a child to shower with love.

"(Y/n), you're doing great, but I need you to keep pushing as swiftly as you can for me, okay?"

(Y/n) opened her eyes and tried to blink back into focus after being lost in her thoughts, but she shuddered when she realised Deacon didn't look as calm as he had done a few moments ago. She tugged on Jim's hand, pulling his arm across her chest while her head tilted to one side and she scrutinised the look on Deacon's face.

His mouth was set into a thin, straight line and his jaw was locked tight like he was trying to keep some secrets at bay. His brows furrowed like his concentration had amplified ten times and he was moving the towel in his arms a bit higher to reach for the baby.

"W-what's wrong?"

A frown pulled on Jim's face in place of a smile and he tightened his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist while his other hand was confiscated and still held into her chest. He let her lean more into his chest while he looked down at Deacon and silently shook his head to imply that he didn't know what was wrong, but he needed to know. Now.

"The cord's around the neck." Deacon diverted his eyes up to look at Jim before he shifted his attention right back to the baby he was delivering.

He didn't want to panic (Y/n) in case she stopped pushing or it slowed down her momentum if she began to panic. But he knew she heard him when her legs tensed and she tried to lean forward like she wanted to see for herself if it was true.

He couldn't risk moving the cord now when there wasn't enough of the umbilical cord exposed and Deacon couldn't pull on the cord when the baby and placenta weren't delivered yet. He could cause a lot of damage trying to move the cord right now, he had to wait.

"Deak…"

"It's okay, as long as you keep pushing we can easily sort this. Trust me, okay?" When (Y/n) nodded, Deacon looked up at Chris. "I'm gonna need an extra set of hands."

Chris squeezed (Y/n)'s hand tightly before she let go and slid off the desk chair so she was crouched down on her knees beside Deacon. She hated the way (Y/n) shook and her arm seemed to stretch out, following her friend because she needed that support. She needed to hold someone's hand.

But they were both surprised when Luca held a firm hand out in front of (Y/n) as he crouched beside the sofa in Chris's place. He didn't mind offering some comfort, and (Y/n) could squeeze or even break his hand if she needed to. They were all here to help her through this.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned forward as much as she could until she felt Jim's arm tightening around her waist like he thought she was about to fall onto the floor. He kept tight hold around her and leaned his chest into her side, moulding around her like a safety blanket as she cried out and started to shake from how badly she was trying to push.

She could feel her feet fidgeting against the floor, anxious to try and push up or move or slide against the floor. She wanted to move, to do anything to relieve the tension and get this over with.

Her breaths came out in small pants and she screamed just as Deacon shifted his arms up and wrapped the towel around the newborn.

"There we go, you've done it."

When she felt Jim's chin settle on her shoulder so he could peer down, (Y/n) tried to look up at him, but he wasn't smiling. His brows were furrowed and he was watching Deacon closely like a hawk with dark eyes and a firmly set jaw.

Jim's stomach tensed and his nose crinkled when he watched Deacon place the small bundle into Chris's waiting arms so he could slide his finger in between the newborn's neck and the blushing pink cord. He gave a small tug and pulled the cord up, unravelling it from the baby's neck as carefully but swiftly as he cold.

They didn't know how long the cord had been like that or if it had been tight or loose. It could of happened during labour, it could have been like that before her water broke, they didn't know.

"Alright, there we go little one." Deacon pressed his fingers to the newborn's lips, checking the airways weren't blocked before he started to rub his fingers over their chest to stimulate the lungs into working. They needed the baby to breathe; everyone on the team seemed to be holding their breaths in nervous anticipation.

The moment a small cry flooded through the air, (Y/n) felt like she was going to faint and she started to gasp for breath. She felt Jim's wet lips smothering the side of her head and she leaned into the touch, giving a small tug on his hand as she grinned and closed her eyes.

"It's a boy." A smile finally flooded Deacon's lips as he found a few things in the medical kit to use as clamps so he could cut the cord.

He could see Chris was almost at the point of shaking as she stared down at the little boy in her arms who was now her Godson. It wasn't often that Deacon had seen Chris cry, much less happy tears like this but the sight as was lovely as it was surprisingly.

She didn't seem like she was very willing to let the newborn go, but she begrudgingly pushed up on her knees and leaned forward so she could place the little boy into (Y/n)'s trembling arms.

(Y/n) could feel a mixture of her and Jim's tears running down her face when he smothered his lips against her cheek. They had a little boy. They'd had their baby. He was here, and he had been delivered by their team.

Jim realised he was starting to get the shakes when his right hand let go of (Y/n)'s and he cupped his hand around the back of their boy's head. He looked oddly small, curled up into (Y/n)'s chest like that, but the way he started to smack and part his lips made a laugh tumble past Jim's lips.

"He's a handsome little guy," Luca ran his hand up and down (Y/n)'s shoulder for a few moments while he sneaked a glance at the bundle in her arms.

(Y/n) traced her thumb over the back of her boy's head before she looked up at Jim and moved her arms towards him. She could see the light sparkling in his eyes at the prospect of holding his boy, his first baby. And tears were freely falling down his face when he unravelled his arm from around her waist so he could take their boy into his own arms.

It was a comforting weight to feel in his arms and leaning against his chest and it somehow made Jim feel like his whole life until this point had been hollow. This is what he had been missing. (Y/n) and their boy had been what Jim had been searching for all this time, and now he'd found them.

"Look at this little guy," Hondo grinned and leaned over the sofa while he patted his hand down on Jim's back. "The first person to be born at Swat, and the first Swat member to ever have a baby here at headquarters."

"The only person, born at Swat." (Y/n) corrected while she let herself slump back into the sofa and succumb to the adrenaline that was making her tremble all over again. "I'm n-not doing this again with you all, sorry."

As much as (Y/n) loved the team and was thankful to them for what they had done, she didn't want to repeat this experience. Any other children she and Jim had would either be born at home or preferably at the hospital, not here at Swat. (Y/n) would be the one and only person to have her baby born here, and be the only Swat member to give birth here as she wasn't repeating this again and she knew Chris wasn't likely to give birth here either.

A round of laughs filled the air and the team leaned over to try and get a better look at the newborn. But when (Y/n) looked down at Deacon, something softened in her eyes.

He stripped the gloves from his hands and washed his hands and arms in the warm water bowl beside him. His expression was slightly dazed, but he didn't look as exasperated or shocked as the rest of them, and he was the one who had just delivered a baby today.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and gently nudged her elbow into Jim's arm before she glanced her eyes from him down to Deacon. A silent exchange happened between them like they were sending secret messages to one another. But they were on the same wavelength, Jim knew exactly what (Y/n) was silently trying to ask and he nodded.

She gently nudged her trembling knee into Deacon's arm to gain his attention. "Thank you." She was never going to be able to thank him enough for what he had just done for them, but they knew a way to share their gratitude.

"You're very welcome," Deacon suddenly looked tired, like the energy had dwindled out of him with all the excitement flooding the room. As if it was finally settling in and dawning on him what he had just experienced.

"Didn't think you'd get to deliver your Godchild, did you?"

The question was so calm, so normal and said almost in passing that Deacon laughed and nodded, about to make a remark before the words actually settled in his mind. Once they registered, his brows furrowed and his head snapped up to look from (Y/n) to Jim like he didn't quite believe them.

Everyone knew Chris was Godmother, but the couple hadn't made up their minds on who would be Godfather. Deacon had just sealed that choice for them.

"Wh- me, really?"

Jim lifted his arms a bit higher so he could cuddle his baby boy closer to his chest and he kissed his temple delicately. And when he looked over at Deacon, his lips formed a proud smile.

"You've earned it."

[stevesbestgirl]

Phases of the Moon - Part 1

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

2796 words

Warnings: poor imitations of British speaking habits, not much else in part one, maybe a few curses but I’m not sure

A/N: This was my attempt to write a slow-burn. It’s long, self-indulgent, and obscenely fluffy. Reader is specified as American, but mostly so I can avoid pretending I know anything about living in the UK. Steven and Marc are aware of each other and trying to find balance in their relationship in this fic, but keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point. 

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Go talk to her.”

“Well I can’t, can I?” Steven sent a furtive glance at you, toying absently with your phone while you examined the glyphs inside a display.

“Why can’t you?”

“She’s got earphones in.”

Marc scoffed in the glass of one of the display cases, “Always an excuse.”

“I can’t just interrupt her, that’d be rude!”

“Not if she’s interested.”

Steven’s reply was cut short as a pair of boys came rushing around the corner, laughing and shoving each other- Steven wouldn’t have placed them at older than twelve. He watched helplessly as one firm push sent the smaller of the two reeling into your backside. Completely oblivious to their noise, you went sprawling, headphones disconnecting as your phone hit the ground and was sent skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest at Steven’s feet.

Inhibitions gone, Steven scooped your phone up and rushed over, offering a hand to help you up, “Are you okay?” You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “You lot,” he called out, locating the pair sidling off behind a diorama, “C’mere.” 

They looked like they were considering bolting, but the smaller of them located Steven’s badge and took a reluctant step forward. By the time they stood in front of you, they were looking rather cowed, like puppies who’d been caught gnawing a slipper. 

“Shape up, you hear? You could’ve really hurt someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Now listen, down that corridor there, there’s a bunch of old weapons; spears, cudgels, daggers, the like. How about you go give it a look?” You watched him speak to the two boys; his enthusiasm seemed very genuine, not the fake kind adults often used with children.

The taller boy hesitated before leaving, “What’s a cudgel?”

Steven smiled a little, “Why don’t you go on and find out?” Then the two rushed in the direction he’d indicated and he called after them, “Slowly, hm?”

Once they were out of sight, you finally spoke, “Are you sure that was a good idea? Sending them in there with a bunch of weapons?” You couldn’t help but smile as he unconsciously smoothed his dark, nearly sleep-tousled curls back from his face.

His intent had been to chuckle, but it came out as more of an empty puff of air, “They’re all under glass- should be alright.” He added, “Maybe I’ll pop in to check on them, just in case.” Nervous now, he looked down at his hands, still holding your phone, “Oh, there you are.” Your expression fell and only then did he notice the spiderweb of cracks in the bottom corner where it had hit the floor, “Oh no.”

You shook your head, accepting the phone and dropping it to your side, like putting it out of sight would make him forget, “It’s alright. Just a screen protector. I’ll get a new one eventually.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he insisted, his earnest gaze finally meeting yours just in time for your face to go warm. You’d thought you’d been ready to hear the term of endearment used so casually when you came to England, but apparently not.

“It’s alright,” you rushed to speak. “Definitely not your fault. Thanks for helping me-” you glanced at his name tag, “-Steven.”

“No problem- it is my job after all,” he cracked a halfhearted smile.

“You were great with those kids too.”

Rosy warmth tinged his cheeks and his gaze shifted away, “Thanks.” A small pause, “Your accent- you’re American?”

You nodded, “Needed a change of scenery, so I’m staying with some family for a while. Just got in yesterday, actually.”

His gaze eagerly lifted to yours again, but flicked away over your shoulder and he went slightly pale. Glancing back, you saw a stocky woman with dirty blonde hair gesturing impatiently at him.

Returning his gaze to you, he looked a bit panicked, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I- ah-” He tripped over his words and almost tripped almost his feet as well, veering around you and backing away toward the woman beckoning him over. 

You raised your hand in an uncertain farewell as he stammered his way backwards, gesturing faintly over his shoulder with his thumb in a faint attempt at an explanation. Once he was within range, the woman seemed to be lighting into him a bit, though his gaze hadn’t yet left you. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers that he looked at her. 

Not wanting to spy, you turned away, checking your phone for the time. When Steven glanced your way again, he only caught your retreating form disappearing out the entrance. For once, Donna’s criticisms didn’t affect him since he was already kicking himself for not asking you out. Or getting your phone number. Or even your name. He’d blown it. 

*

The following day, you had a bit more time to explore the museum, so you returned. And you noted with dismay, when the cabbie called you “love”, you didn’t so much as blink, let alone blush. Maybe it had been a one-off thing. Now you would be immune. 

Walking in and spotting the woman from before at the front desk, you plucked up a bit of courage and approached. Her name tag read “Donna” and she prompted with visible disinterest, as though she were reading off a script, “Welcome. Is there something I can direct you to?”

Deciding to push forward, you said, “Actually, I was just in here yesterday. I ran into a bit of trouble with a couple of young boys and one of your tour guides helped me. I wanted to let you know that Steven was very polite and just lovely with those kids-”

“Stevie? He isn’t a tour guide,” Donna interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “In his dreams, maybe.”

“But he does work here?”

“Yeah, he’s the gift shoppist.” She was still being very flippant; it was clear that she’d barely had interest in this conversation to begin with and now that it was about Steven, it had dwindled to none. 

“Right. Thank you.” You forced a smile and nodded before heading off in the direction of the gift shop.

The counter was empty when you first walked into the room, sending a tiny shoot of disappointment into your chest. You wanted to thank him, since it didn’t appear that you could score him any points with his boss.

You wondered for a moment if you should come back later, but then a shaggy, brown mop of hair sprung up from behind the counter, triumphantly brandishing what appeared to be a large, amber-colored marble with a bone inside it, “Got ya, you little bugger.”

His gaze fell on you and he tucked the marble behind his back, like it was something to hide, “You- you came back.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday, “I was only passing through yesterday.” You unfolded the brochure and showed him the notes you’d taken on the map, detailing where you wanted to go first and which exhibits had caught your eye, “I like to plan a little bit.”

He followed the line you traced with your finger intently, raising his gaze to your face when you pulled away, “That’s a good way to go about it. The tour is pretty good too.” Steven’s heart skipped as your lips pulled into a slight frown; had he said something wrong? 

“Speaking of the tour, I tried to put in a good word for you with your boss- as thanks, for yesterday- she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Oh, yes. Donna and I have got a bit of a rocky history.” He added quickly, “Not a history, mind you. More like a boss/employee history. I’ve got a bit of a bad track record with my punctuality, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you’d make a lovely tour guide, for what it’s worth.”  

There was another one of those long pauses; you were about to offer a meek “Thanks again,” and cut your losses when he spoke up, “If you like, I’m on a break in ten minutes. I could show you around.”

You’d insisted to yourself that this wasn’t why you came back here, but you found yourself nodding, a faint smile on your lips, “I’d like that.”

Steven seemed even more surprised than you were, nodding quickly, “Great- that’s- great.” He nodded again, “I can meet you in the ‘King’s Tomb’ exhibit.” He pointed, “Right over there-” He checked his watch, “-in nine minutes.”

Your smile widened, “See you in nine minutes then.” You moved off in the direction he’d indicated, the temptation to look back gnawing at you. 

“Wait!” he called after you. You turned back, “I haven’t got your name.”

“You haven’t needed it, have you?” 

Now you were teasing and you knew it. But you could feel his eyes on you as you disappeared around the corner and you smiled to yourself. So much for doing your own thing. The whole reason for coming to London was to get away from men- although you supposed it was more one man than men in general. But something about Steven just caught your eye.

So you waited out the impossibly long eight minutes remaining until Steven walked in, looking in a bit of a rush. You watched him scan the exhibit, almost like he’d expected you to have left by now.

You raised a hand, “Steven.” He positively lit up at the sight of you, relief visible in the heavy exhale he released- like he'd been holding his breath. 

You met him in the center of the room, clasping your hands behind your back in anticipation. Steven still had the remnants of a grin on his face, though he mirrored your posture, a bit of enthusiasm escaping as he bounced on the balls of his feet, just once, “What do you want to see?”

“You’re my tour guide, you tell me,” you teased. 

Almost instantly, his face flushed, “Well, I wasn’t sure if there were specific displays you wanted to look at or certain subjects you were interested in, you know? Since I've only got fifteen minutes on my break.” 

“Well, I’m interested in everything, but since we only have fifteen minutes; how about you show me the way you’d start your tour if you were a guide?” His cheeks darkened further and you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to smile again. But he surprised you, recovering quickly and placing his hand on your arm. He steered you over to one of the displays and you glanced at him, “The Ennead?”

The Ennead,” he corrected your pronunciation. “The Egyptian Gods.” He wheeled around so his back was to the exhibit, his gaze meeting yours with ease. “Everything about Egypt comes back to the gods one way or another, so to understand Egypt, you have to understand them.”

He walked you through the exhibit, one god or goddess at a time, his hands moving animatedly as he talked. And he was good at it, in a different way than you’d expect. He had such a wealth of knowledge- you felt comfortable asking questions because you expected him to have the answers. And he answered many of your questions before you could even ask them; his explanations were pretty comprehensive. 

It was all strangely charming, actually. His enthusiasm was so genuine, it was as though he invited you inside it with him. It was a nice place to be- like sharing a secret. It was also putting you in dangerous territory; a magnetic field that would be hard to pull yourself from.

Once you were about halfway through the eleven, you tentatively raised your hand. Steven faltered slightly, giving you the chance to speak up, “Two things- I just want to check the time, I’d hate for you to be-”

“Late-” he checked his watch faster than you could pull out your phone.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the gift shop, “Well, come on then, I don’t want you getting into trouble!”

Steven’s long strides quickly outpaced you; you had to hurry to keep up, a laugh at the ridiculousness of it slipping out. Steven glanced back- nearly shouldering a display case. Right before impact, his back straightened a bit, like he sensed it coming, and he just twisted out of the way. It was so smooth you wouldn’t have noticed the deft movement if you hadn’t been anticipating the collision.

By the time you skidded to a halt in front of the gift shop counter, you were full-on giggling; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard over almost nothing. “Sorry about that,” Steven offered meekly.

You took a breath and collected yourself a bit, though you still felt the warmth of the laughter in your cheeks, “Don’t be- it was fun.”

“What was the other thing?” he asked, shuffling back behind the counter.

“Hm?”

“You said there were two things, the time and what else?”

“Oh! Well that exhibit was called the ‘King’s Tomb,’ right? Why are the gods in that one?”

He leaned on the counter, some of his timid demeanor vanishing, “Well, the pharaohs were considered to be gods by their people. So they put them in a room together. And since the mummies are what brings in the crowds, they get the-” he clicked his tongue, framing a little marquee with his fingers, “-title spot.”

“I suppose you know quite a lot about those too?”

He gave a chagrined smile, “Did I go on a bit much then?”

You shook your head, “Not at all- I wasn’t teasing. I wish we’d had time to do the whole exhibit.”

“I’d wager with me giving it, that tour would take all week,” he joked, feeling like he’d done too much talking during your time together.

You shrugged, “I’m on vacation.” Smiling, you added, “Or holiday, you’d probably call it.”

He smiled weakly at the joke, seeming to be working out what you’d meant. He scanned your face, as though nervous he was misreading you, but you just smiled at him. “I’m scheduled again on Thursday, I could- if you like, I mean- I could show you some more. Of the exhibit. Obviously. If you want.” 

You were here for freedom. You’d come all the way to another country so you could do what you wanted, when you wanted, no strings attached. But, you reasoned, this wasn’t dating. This was an exclusive tour, on Steven’s break. It wasn’t like he was taking you out to dinner.

You were bargaining; whittling away your rules to nothing because they no longer suited your purposes. You knew that. And you also knew that you only did so because Steven was, very clearly, a large string. A large string with lovely, brown, puppy eyes and enough passion for Egypt to make a pharaoh blush. But you nodded anyway, “I’d love to come back. Same time?”

He seemed stunned by your acceptance, but he nodded rapidly to overcompensate for the moment of hesitation, “Yeah. My break is at three.”

You smirked, “How many minutes from now?”

He stared at you for a moment- you almost wondered if he was trying to do the math, but then he flushed and gave a weak chuckle, “Right, I’ll work on that one.”

You pulled out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday and a pen from your bag, “Since I won’t be needing this anymore-” You scribbled down your name and number and slid the brochure across the table, “Text me when you figure it out.” No strings, you reminded yourself.

He gave another hurried nod, “Okay, I will, I-” 

You got a sense of deja vu as Steven glanced over your shoulder and paled in nearly the exact same way he had yesterday. “Is it Donna?” You quickly scanned the counter, grabbing a stuffed hippopotamus, “Because I’d like to purchase this.” You deliberately moved it across the counter where Donna would be able to see and pulled out your wallet.

Now Steven looked back to you, “You don’t have to do that. Most of this stuff if junk-”

“I want to. This one is kind of cute.” You held out the money, “And you’ll tell me all about it next time?”

He nodded, a small smile returning to his face, “Yeah, I will.” He handed back your change and the plush, speaking up so Donna could hear, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

You smiled, “Same to you.”

You left the other way so Donna wouldn’t see your face, hoping she wasn’t descending on Steven for being late from his break. You held the little hippo plushie to your chest and thought ahead to Thursday.

[captainsophiestark]

The Arena Club

Peggy Carter x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Hope you like it Nicola! 💗

Fandom: Marvel

Day Seven Prompt: "Follow me if you want to live!"

Summary: The life of a reporter can get a little dangerous, especially when going after powerful, deeply corrupt men like those in the Arena Club. Thankfully, Peggy Carter's around to help in a pinch.

Word Count: 1,943

Category: Fluff, Action?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The evidence presented in this article is just the beginning. Tireless detective work has uncovered much, much more, which we hope to verify and expose to the public as soon as-

I broke off typing abruptly, my attention snapping up from the typewriter in front of me. A thud had just come from somewhere else in the office, and I knew for a fact I was the only one here.

I'd decided to stay late to make sure this story got finished in time to go out tomorrow morning, and I'd been words away from finishing it up. I'd been investigating a conspiracy with deep roots in LA for a long time now, and I finally had the evidence put together to expose them, once and for all. Unfortunately, having a bunch of knowledge about a shady secret society had made me jumpy as hell for the past week at least.

I waited, listening for anything else out of the ordinary. When I didn't hear anything after a few long moments, I took a deep breath and returned my attention to my typewriter.

Almost at the exact same time, the door to the room came flying open. I snapped my head up and shot out of my seat, reeling backwards as three armed men flooded the office. My heart almost stopped in my chest when I felt someone take my hand from behind, and I whirled around to see a beautiful brunette woman staring at me.

"Come with me if you want to live!" she said, pulling me away from my typewriter and the armed men all at once. My brain froze, but it was clearly unsafe to stay here, so I followed her. Even through the shock, I knew she was a better option than the guys with guns.

I followed the woman through the back hallways of my office building, the sounds of crashing and gunshots echoing behind us. My heart raced, but she seemed calm as could be as we ducked around one corner and through another door.

We wound our way through the building and gradually down the stairs, the woman me never once pausing to check directions or look back at me. Finally, we made it out a door on the first floor into the back alley and she dropped my hand. I was surprised to find that I was a little disappointed.

"Get in!" she called, pulling open the driver's side door of the car. I hesitated. She'd definitely helped me out of a tight spot upstairs, but getting into a car with a stranger was a whole different situation.

Apparently, she noticed my hesitation. She stopped halfway through climbing into the car and came back to me.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?" She reached into her jacket and pulled out a badge, which she held up for me to read. "Agent Peggy Carter. I'm with the SSR. We've been chasing the same group you've been investigating for quite some time now. We can protect you from them and their men in the building, but we have to go right now."

I just blinked at her for a moment, until a shout from somewhere inside the building finally snapped me out of it.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I'm coming. Thank you."

She nodded and gave me a smile, then started the car as I climbed in the passenger seat. We pulled away just as the men from before came busting into the alley behind us.

We turned a corner onto the main street before they managed to take a shot at us. I slumped back into my seat with a sigh.

"You alright?"

I turned more fully to face Agent Peggy Carter behind the driver seat. She kept her eyes on the road, speeding through the LA traffic as fast as she could. I sighed.

"I... I don't know. Nothing that's happened in the past ten minutes has felt real. Those guys were really going to kill me, weren't they?"

This time, Peggy spared a second to glance in my direction. She looked sympathetic, which was all the confirmation I needed.

"They were, yes. They're the enforcers for the group your story's about. The Arena Club. We've been dealing with their members for quite a while now."

"Is that why you were there tonight? You knew they were coming after me?"

Peggy hesitated. "Not... exactly. I was more there to scope out the situation, see whether you'd uncovered anything we hadn't yet. I saw the enforcers on my way up to your office, and realized I might need to take a more active involvement."

I huffed a laugh that was mostly an adrenaline release.

"Well. I guess that was lucky."

Peggy shot me a grin. "Yes. I suppose it was."

I shook my head, a small smile spreading to my own face despite myself. Probably the shock just hadn't worn off yet. But something about Peggy's energy was just contagious.

She continued to weave through traffic for a while, apparently working to put distance between us and anyone who might be following us. At last, we pulled up outside a building and Peggy put the car in park. I glanced out my window, then frowned when I saw the window decal for a talent agency.

"Don't worry," she said, opening her door. "It's a front for the SSR. You'll be safe here."

I nodded, following her out of the car and into the darkened building. After our mad-dash through my office, I was a little jumpy, but Peggy quickly led me to the back rooms and through a literal secret doorway into the heart of the SSR.

I trailed behind her, head on a swivel as we walked into a well-lit office building. A few people milled around despite the late hour. Apparently the work never really stopped here.

I followed Peggy into a bigger room filled with desks. Only one other person was there, and he looked up the moment we entered. His brow furrowed as soon as he saw me.

"Peggy? What happened?" he asked. She came to a stop just in front of him, and I followed her lead. "I thought you were just going to scout the place out."

Peggy sighed and put her hands on her hips as she answered.

"That was the plan, but they attacked at almost the same time I arrived. So, now we're here."

The guy sighed, looking absolutely exhausted. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded as he opened them again.

"Okay. I'll get some guys on the scene to collect evidence."

"I'll take care of our guest."

They nodded to each other, then Peggy turned to me with a smile.

"Right this way."

I followed her, still feeling a little out of it. Armed men had burst into my office less than twenty minutes ago, but my brain just wouldn't let me process it. Every time I tried, it shut me down.

Peggy seemed to notice something in my expression when she led me into a smaller room with a couch and a table. She gave me a soft smile as she motioned for me to take a seat on the couch.

"You look like you could use some tea," she said. I shook my head as I sank down on the edge of the couch. I looked around, the nerves coursing through my body despite my brain still not having totally processed the reasons for them.

"I think I'm okay, thanks."

"Please," she said, pausing to look me in the eyes. It stilled me for a moment, grounding me and giving me room to take a breath. "I promise, a warm cup of tea will help. It's a big one for us Brits. We swear by it."

I huffed, the ghost of a smile finding its way onto my face.

"Well... okay then."

She gave me another reassuring smile, then started making a cup at the kitchenette taking up the opposite wall. We must've commandeered the break room.

"So... what happens now?" I asked. "I mean, my story was supposed to break tomorrow morning-"

"We're most likely going to have to delay it slightly, but you should still be able to put it out at some point soon," she said, returning to me with two cups of tea in hand. She held out mine, and I sipped at it. She was right; it helped.

Peggy sat down opposite me on the couch with her own cup of tea, giving me a soft smile. I barely knew her, but somehow, she managed to put me more at ease.

"We have almost everything we need to put the Arena Club and their lackeys away for good," she continued. "But we have a few holes in our evidence. I was hoping you might be able to help us fill those holes."

I nodded slowly, mostly in thought. I wasn't sure what I might've found that the SSR hadn't, but if those men had come after me, maybe I was a better investigator than I realized.

"Listen." Peggy set down her tea on the coffee table, turning on the couch to face me more fully. "I know this has been... quite an evening for you. And whether or not you agree to help us, we'll make sure you're safe. But you've clearly put as much work as we have into exposing this conspiracy and trying to take down men with power who think they're untouchable. If you're up for it... I'd be happy to help you continue that work."

I took a shaky breath, then set my tea down on the table, too. Then, I straightened and met Peggy's eyes again, my spine straight despite the lingering shaking in my hands.

"I'm in. I want to help. I've spent a long time trying to take these people down by exposing them to the public, but if I can help you get them off the streets and out of power, too? Even better."

Peggy grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

My heart raced as she leaned forward, but then she stood.

"I'm going to go get our case files. We can go through them together tonight, and you can tell us about anything you've found that we haven't. Then, in the morning, you and I can go and gather your evidence and bring it here. Assuming, that is, that you have backups? I doubt anything incriminating in your office is still there."

Now it was my turn for a grin. "Of course I have backups. This isn't my first time exposing some government corruption."

"Perfect. Then I'll be rigth back."

She moved past me towards the door, and maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the day, but I reached out and took her hand to stop her before I could overthink it. She stopped and turned back to me with a raised eyebrow, but didn't pull her hand away.

"I just wanted to say... thank you. For saving me. And for letting me be involved in the investigation, and everything. I appreciate it. And... I'm looking forward to working with you."

Peggy smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Happy to have you aboard."

We shared a look, then Peggy squeezed my hand and gently let it go. She carried on out of the office, and I watched her go with a smile. I picked up my mug of tea again and settled back against the couch.

Tonight had been absolutely wild, and I knew for sure I hadn't totally processed it yet. And clearly, things were only going to get crazier, since I apparently needed SSR protection for the forseeable future. But still. I couldn't help being a little excited about getting to work closely with Agent Peggy Carter.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Am I lost in the vastness of these stars? (will you take my hand and guide me home?)

Day 2 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x reader (gn) x sugawara koushi

length: 7.8k

genre: wild west au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: there's some talk about murder and a single slightly graphic crime scene but nothing too intense at all, lots of miscommunication and heartache in this one, but happy ending I promise as always, also wounds inflicted from broken glass at one point, it's all p tame but just a heads up

a/n: I feel like I'm running a marathon rn I feel like I'm sprinting but this one's niiiice to pls enjoy <3

tags: @love-and-lore @melodramaticmatter

It's a town you've never been in, in a saloon you've never heard of, with three counts of robbery on your tail, when fate finally catches up to you. You're not really paying attention to who the bartender is when you swing open the doors, shoving past the closed sign hanging on them and stumbling in. Maybe if you'd been slower, you would've taken note of the distinct silver shine in his hair before you grabbed him and turned him to face you, a gun to his ribs in preparation.

But when he sees you, dropping the mug he was drying and letting it shatter on the floor, it's Sugawara Koushi's face that stares at you. He's older now, of course, the boyish softness in his features having given way to deeper, sharper edges. But it's still Koushi, eyes kind and gentle even as they widen at the sight of you - at the sight of the gun you have pressed against his side.

You holster it when you catch up to yourself, though, letting go of him and stumbling back.

"Koushi," you begin desperately, but the sound of horse hooves hammering against the ground outside has you grabbing onto his shoulders again. "I need you to help me out of here," you rush out, voice wavering. "I need you to lie to the sheriff - you live here, you have to know him. I heard he's caught wind of where I am and I can't-"

"I can't," he begins, but you barrel on.

"Please Koushi, I know I - I know we're not anything anymore but there was once a time, right? Where you would help me? Where you would take my hand?"

But Koushi reaches out to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you into silence as he says your name. You catch, out of the corner of your eye, the gleaming silver band on his ring finger.

"I'm… married to the sheriff. I can't do that," he says slowly, like the words hurt as they come up. And they do, you're sure - they do to you, at least. Koushi's married, moved on from you and Daichi enough to marry someone else, so unknown to you now that that's enough for him to turn his back on you, to forsake you to whatever fate his spouse will give you.

You're standing there frozen, reeling from Koushi's words, when the doors swing open behind you and you hear the jingle of spurs. You step away from him, letting his hands slide off your shoulders and fall, useless, to his sides, as the click of boots walking across the wooden floor rings through your ears. You know the sounds of the law catching up to you when you hear them.

But then the sheriff speaks and it's Daichi's voice you hear. He asks Koushi who he's got there, his voice ringing through the empty space. Koushi just stares at him, anguish painted across his features as Daichi steps further forward and frowns, his hand on his gun cautiously. 

You turn slowly, stiffly, rotating on your heel to look at the sheriff - at the face of your old lover staring back at you, older and broader, his badge strapped to his hip and his wedding band shining on his finger.

All these years that you thought the three of you had gone your separate ways, turns out it was just you who was left behind. It's enough to make your breath catch - the betrayal of it all. The shock and guilt that flashes across Daichi's face, at least, mirrors what's hammering through your heart. Fortunately, however, you've always been a quicker draw than him. 

You tell yourself that you can't really be hurt by the two of them ducking when you draw your gun - that you're a wanted criminal, that you're no longer in the company of love or trust. Perhaps it's fortunate, you think as you shoot through the window next to Daichi's head, causing him to flatten himself to the ground long enough for you to make a run for it and go through the opening, rolling over the broken glass on the windowsill and out into the street.

Stealing the sheriff's horse as your getaway ride isn't strictly necessary, but a way out is a way out and you're not sure you owe Daichi any kind of courtesy these days.

Koushi, as he stands by the broken window, looks at the trail of blood that's drying on the loose shards from when you rolled over it. Outside, Daichi stares at the place where his horse used to be, scowling with his arms crossed.

"Someone needs to find them," Koushi says, making Daichi spin around to look at him. "They'll bleed out at this rate."

"Someone needs to find them because they're a criminal," Daichi answers shortly. Koushi sighs and crosses his arms, mirroring his husband.

"You can't go alone," Koushi points out. "It's not safe. Not… well, today was a little too close. If they catch you off guard again, they might not miss a second time." Daichi frowns and walks towards Koushi, standing on the opposite side of the window to look at him properly.

"Do you really think this was a missed shot?" he asks quietly, eyeing the blood on the windowsill.

"I think that, with the crimes that they're running from, it wouldn't be a surprise," Koushi answers, but his voice is halting and low. Daichi reaches through the open window to take Koushi's hand, thumbing over his wedding band as he turns over the day's events in his head, knowing that neither of them will say what they know is true.

You're not the person you used to be. You're dangerous, you're wanted, and it's the sheriff's responsibility to take you down.

"Come with me, then," Daichi says abruptly, making Koushi stare at him.

"What?"

"Come with me. I can't… I don't want to do this alone." Koushi sighs at his husband's words, looking past him and out towards the town that they now call home, the one that they built, just the two of them, in your absence. 

"I guess it should be the three of us," he responds quietly, something heavy weighing in his heart. It feels a lot like guilt, and when he turns and sees the wanted poster on the wall of his saloon with your name on it, he can't help but wonder how it all went so wrong.

Perhaps it's a coincidence that all three of you are reeling from the same question, racking your memories to find the moment when it all began to fall apart. You think of it, of course, as you weave through towns and backroads, further and further from the strange saloon that held your past - and the future that you could never have. It's late in the evening when you make your decision, your legs aching from days of running away and your thighs chaffed from your stolen horse. It's that evening, as you lay on the hard, cold ground three hours outside the nearest town, that you feel the loneliness in a way that you hadn't thought was possible.

Yes, the three of you walking away from one another had left you staggering, alone and directionless in the wide open sands of the desert. Yes, being on your own for all these years, running and running and running had taken its toll, loneliness creeping in with the setting sun every night to wrap around you and squeeze.

But somehow, when you'd thought that all three of you were alone, it hadn't been so bad. Somehow, it had been simpler to convince yourself that it was fine, that there was really no such thing as home for people like you.

But now, staring up at the stars, their lights winking in and out across the night sky, there is nothing but you and the vastness, the open desert and the open sky and your closed-off heart. Now, knowing that the two of them are wrapped around each other, sharing a life that they couldn't bear to share with you - that is a loneliness that is unbearable, an agony of longing that tugs at your soul.

So, your decision is made. No more hopping towns, no more slipping just barely out of reach. The next train will have a ticket with your name on it and you'll get as far away from it all as you possibly can. 

Unfortunately for you, Daichi and Koushi know you a bit too well, the two of them being able to trail after you with more accuracy than anyone else ever has. They weave through the same back roads and small towns, trailing after your footsteps as if they're still intertwined with you in some way - as if they can feel the tugs of your heart leading them to you, still. 

It doesn't take much, then, for them to find the clerk who sold you the ticket, and it's only a mild scramble for the two of them to kick their horses into action, stumbling onto the train as it pulls out from the station. Mild, of course, is a relative term, which Koushi considers as Daichi loads their horses in while he gives the conductor their tickets. He's not sure what Daichi would've done if he'd lost you, if he'd been forced to stand on the platform and let you slip away, getting smaller and smaller against the endless horizon as you vanish from their grip.

Daichi swears up and down that it's a professional desperation, that he swore to protect the law and punish those who deviate from it and this is nothing more. He promises to catch you and throw you into jail, himself, content to let you rot in a cell until this version of you that exists now dies alongside the part of you that's already buried - the part of you that loved them and was loved back. Daichi swears that all of that is dead and gone, buried under the endless sand and the heat of the desert. Koushi, as he looks at the wild pain in his husband's eyes, isn't so sure. As he feels his own heart constricting, his soul pushing against him, he knows that it isn't true for himself, at least.

"Are we sure we're on the right train?" Koushi asks quietly as Daichi slams another cabin door shut, scowling as he shoves his badge back onto his belt. The endless rows of doors loom ahead of them as they continue the process of flashing the sheriff's badge and asking if anyone's seen a wanted criminal wandering around the train. 

"We are," Daichi answers stubbornly, making Koushi frown. He follows after him nonetheless as he continues his search. He's sure you're here. You have to be. 

And as you watch through the crack of the door leading to the next train car, you curse Daichi's determination - his desperation to find you. They've backed you into a corner, methodically moving through the cars towards the back of the train, pushing you further and further until you run out of places to hide.

As you slip into the luggage compartment that marks the final car, you think that perhaps it really is all catching up to you - perhaps there really does come a day when you just can't run anymore. But you slide the large side door open, anyway, gripping onto the frame as the wind rips in through the doorway, knocking a stack of suitcases over and causing you to teeter on the ledge. 

Surely, no one would survive a jump like this, out of the side of a moving train and into the vast nothing of the open desert, endless miles away from the nearest town. But surely it's worth it, you think, to not have to face them, to not have to look the ones you love in the eye and watch them cease to recognize you. Surely, it's -

But it is, you realize suddenly as a strong pair of hands haul you off the edge and into the car, finally time to stop fleeing. You think, for just a moment, that if Daichi hadn't caught you and pulled you back, you would've kept blindingly running until it killed you. Just like he said it would every time you fought about it. Just like be promised on the day the three of you split up - the day they moved on without you. 

"What the hell is wrong with you," Koushi spits angrily as Daichi uses a strong hand on your shoulder to sit you down on someone's suitcase, the leather creaking underneath your weight as the sheriff swiftly cuffs your hands behind your back. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You could've died. Are you so lost that you really have to -"

"Koushi," Daichi says his name gently, a quiet request for his husband to stop his tirade as Daichi pulls a trunk over to sit opposite you, leaning his forearms onto his knees so that he can look at you properly. You stare at him, your eyes locked with his and you think, somewhere unimportant in the back of your mind, that this is the first time you've really faced him. It's the first time you've really faced either of them. 

"You're under arrest," Daichi says firmly. Standing next to him, Koushi crosses his arms and presses his lips together, something akin to anguish flitting across his face. "I understand that you've always had a knack for getting into trouble, but this just going too far."

"Daichi, come on -" you begin, the disapproving tone in his voice making you shift, your wrists straining against the metal cuffs.

"No, I mean it. How could you? How could you become this thing?" Daichi's words have you pausing, your brows furrowing together. Bank robbery's not great, sure, but he's acting like you've killed someone.

"It's just - it's not that bad," you begin, but Koushi pales as Daichi's face hardens. He slams his hand onto the suitcase that he's sitting on and looks at you like he can't stand you.

"Three counts of murder and that's how you act?" Now that's enough to make you freeze.

"I… I beg your pardon?" You say slowly, your eyes wide. "Three counts of… robbery. I robbed three banks." Something in the back of your head screams at you for confessing to a crime like that, but the idea that they think you've been murdering people is enough to have you stumbling.

Daichi scoffs and scowls and Koushi sighs in a heartbroken sort of way.

"It's too late to lie," he says quietly, but you shake your head desperately.

"I haven't killed anyone," your voice catches with distress. "I would never - I don't know how you would think -" But Daichi's reaching into his pocket to pull out a series of wanted posters, crumpled and smudged from his travels, and slamming them against your chest with an open palm. It knocks the air out of you, your babbling cut off by the force of it as he pulls his hand back and lets the papers float down to the floor so that you can stare at them.

"These are… Wakatoshi's crimes," you say slowly, staring at the information scrawled onto the posters. "I remember these murders - and you have to remember Wakatoshi's gang. This wasn't me."

"So, you're being framed by one of the most infamous criminal gangs alive," Daichi says dryly, his arms crossed. You open your mouth to respond, but any defence you have dies on your lips as you stare at the two of them, your eyes flicking between them. Two hard gazes trained on you, two people who once thought the world of you, scowling down at you as if you're nothing more than the sand crushed beneath their boots.

"You won't believe me," you say weakly, your voice wavering in a way that makes Daichi flinch and Koushi look away. You know that, if you could see his face, you'd be able to see the tears gathering in his eyes. You wonder when they stopped knowing you the way that you know them, when they became strangers to your love.

You think that might be worse than being framed for murder. You're not sure what to do with it, with the way the walls close in on you and the way your breath shortens in your chest. But then there's a scream from somewhere in another car - something loud and shrill that has Daichi jerking to a stand and reaching for his gun. There are shouts following it, a jumble of yelling voices that ricochet off the walls and into the luggage compartment with the three of you. You can hear it well enough to understand what's just happened. There's been a murder on the train, the killer spotted and running away.

The two of them look down at you with wide eyes and you slouch where you sit, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

"Well, see, now that couldn't possibly have been me," you say dryly. Daichi just glares at you, grabbing you by the shoulders so that he can haul you to your feet and drag you with him and Koushi towards the commotion, tugging on your cuffed hands as you stumble when the train begins to lurch to an emergency stop. As he steps into the car in question, he nudges you towards Koushi, who wraps a hand around your cuffs to keep you pulled close to him.

"Aw, come on, where do you think I'm gonna run away to?" You sigh. Koushi frowns at you.

"I think you'd fling yourself out of that window if you had half a chance," he says flatly. You can't really defend yourself against that because, as you eye the cabin window, you think it might be true. You'd have to get past Daichi, though, who's currently leaning over a very dead body that's splayed over a seat while he speaks to the hysterical passengers that apparently saw the crime.

It was a stabbing, they explain - as if the splatters of blood and puncture wounds riddling the body weren't evidence enough. A woman, weeping into a handkerchief, goes on to say that the killer disappeared towards the engine after the crime, most likely using the train's slowing momentum to flee the scene. 

"These stab wounds match the other murders," Daichi murmurs.

"Yea, but these are sloppy - it's like someone didn't know what they were doing," you chime in. When Koushi and Daichi look at you pointedly, you go to hold your hands up in innocence, your wrists catching on the cuffs as you end up just tugging Koushi closer to you. "I didn't do it," you say indignantly. "I'm just saying."

Sawanura pointedly ignores your comment as he straightens, brushing imaginary dust off of his knees as he looks to Koushi, jerking his head to have him follow him out of the compartment and back towards the caboose.

"I have to go after him," he says firmly. "If I start now, I might be able to catch up with him. I need you to stay here and take care of this - don't let anyone interfere with the body, don't let anyone leave. Can you do that, love?" 

"Of course," Koushi answers quickly, pulling you along as Daichi slides the door of the next car open, horses lined up and tied in their stalls. "But - how will you catch up with him?"

"I have to try," is Daichi's only response, firm and resolute in the way that he always is as he unties his horse, leading it out of its stall. 

"Daichi," you say quickly. He looks at you, something painful and longing clouding his eyes for a moment before he goes back to tacking up his horse. You step towards him as you realize that Koushi's no longer holding onto your handcuffs. "I have my horse here, too. You'll have a better chance of catching the killer with a second pair of hands."

"You're still under arrest," Daichi says bluntly. You reach out to wrap a hand around his bicep, stopping him from moving away from you. He stares, first at your hand, then at the unlocked cuffs in the fist of your other hand, then finally at your face.

"How did you do that?"

"I promise to tell you when we get back?" You offer. A hand taps on your shoulder and you turn to see Koushi holding the reigns of your horse, having gotten everything ready for you while you and his husband were bickering. Daichi just sighs in that long-suffering way of his and you take it as an affirmative, smiling at Koushi and taking the reigns from him. 

Just as you reach for them, though, Koushi grabs you by the front of your shirt, pulling you to him so that he can slam your lips together and kiss you hard. By the time you part, Daichi's already on his horse, looking mildly amused at the way you pant and blush.

"Promise you'll come back to me," Koushi says gently, a command whispered against your lips. In that moment, you think he could've asked you to pluck the moon from the sky for him and you would've said yes. "Promise that I won't lose my star again," he whispers, and it's all you can do not to fall to your knees for him.

Koushi watches, after that, as you and Daichi ride off into the endless desert, dust plumes rising and sun beating down. He tries to think of a time when you've ever broken a promise to him and comes up short. Then, in a way that makes him sort of nauseous, he wonders why he didn't just make you promise not to leave them in the first place. 

It's much to Daichi's relief, in the end, that you were right - two experienced riders who are calm and focused have a distinct advantage over a criminal who's panicked and fleeing for his freedom. It's when you catch up to him, though, that his relief vanishes, stamped out by dread when you pull your gun, cocking it and aiming it for the man's back.

But Daichi's just opened his mouth to call out to you when you fire, grazing the killer's shoulder enough to knock him off balance, sending him tumbling off of his horse in a flash of panic. He curls up in a ball and covers his head with his arms as the horse kicks and stamps, sides heaving and eyes rolling before it bolts. You dash after it on your own horse, trusting that Daichi will handle the arrest.

And he… trusts you to come back. The two of you make a good team, he realizes abruptly, a fact that slams into him enough to make him stagger when he dismounts his horse. He wonders, in a swaying, painful sort of way, if you always had.

"Did you think I was going to shoot him?" Your voice, as the two of you ride slowly back to the train, the killer tied up on his horse with Daichi holding the lead tightly in his hand, jerks him out of his spiralling thoughts.

"You did shoot him," he says bluntly.

"But did you think I was going to kill him?" You press. Daichi stares straight ahead, at the long, dusty horizon and the stars that blink over it as the sun dips below the earth, beginning to bathe the two of you in darkness.

"I think it's hard to believe that you got lucky twice." You look at him and frown at that, racking your memories with him to try to figure out what he could mean when it finally hits you.

"Twice? Daichi, I… I wasn't trying to shoot you. I was aiming for the window," you say, and you don't really try to hide the hurt that bleeds into your voice.

"How was I supposed to know?" He snaps, bristling defensively. You recognize it for what it is - pain and regret swirling together into a nauseating mirage of the past. But your own pain still burns in your throat as you look at him.

"Because I'm not a killer," you say simply.

"I know that now," is his only response. Your hands tighten on your reigns, your knuckles paling at the force as you listen to the killer sniffle quietly on his horse. He's young, young enough for Daichi to realize that he didn't get into this life alone… he's young enough to remind him of you, of the first time he caught you stealing from saloon cash registers when the three of you were kids.

The boy had claimed that his name was Goshiki and that he was trying to get in good with Wakatoshi - they all were, apparently, him and the others who were responsible for the four total murders. It was confession enough to render you innocent. It was proof enough for Daichi to feel sick with regret and shame. 

"Have you ever thought about working in law enforcement?" He blurts out, and you whip around to look at him like he's gone mad.

"You're… joking, right? Was that a joke?" You say hesitantly, your eyes scanning over his body as if you'll find some source of blood loss that would explain his insanity.

"You're smart," he says instead of answering, shrugging. "You're quick, you're capable, you're… good. You're good, and I shouldn't have ever thought differently."

"I don't blame you for believing it," you say quietly, but he turns to look at you, his eyes soft and remorseful.

"You should," he says gently. You choose not to fight him on that - not to find another reason to burn a bridge and run away. Instead, you tip your head back to stare past the brim of your stetson at the vast darkness of the night sky, the sun having fallen over the horizon enough to bring any last traces of light with it.

"It's a bit too late now," you say finally, voice so soft that Daichi doesn't think he would've heard it if he wasn't so attuned to you. 

"Is it?" He asks. You look at him like he should already know the answer, your lips pressed together into a thin line.

"If I stop now, it'll all catch up with me. That's the thing with running… once you start, you can never give it up." Daichi stares at you when you say that, a faint memory of yelling those same words at you many years ago wafting up to the front of his mind. If you notice the guilt that tightens his chest, you don't comment on it. You just smile up at the stars, at the only company you've had for all these long years, and sigh. "Well, you always were a bit better at looking ahead than me."

"I was wrong," Daichi says quickly, and you hum in interest. "I can pardon you. I can -  I can give you a chance."

"What good is a chance for someone who always does the same thing?" You sigh, reaching to stretch your arms above your head as if Daichi isn't trembling with the stress of it all, gripping onto the resign of his horse next to you.

"It's good - you're good. Take the chance," he offers desperately. You look at him finally, staring long and hard as the sand dunes roll endlessly behind him. 

"What would Koushi think of it?" You ask quietly. He laughs at that, his shoulders sagging a bit.

"I'm not the one who kissed you like that when we left," he points out. You grumble and turn away, hoping you can tilt your head enough that he doesn't notice the heat in your face at the memory. But the stars blink back at you and the horizon stretches on and on and on into the unknown, and you have to ask the question that's been burning the back of your tongue.

"And what happens when I get bored again?" You say. "What happens the next time I get restless, wanting for something that the two of you can't give me?" Daichi just shrugs, though, remarkably unconcerned.

"My work always brings me out of town. Koushi hates it - I spend months away sometimes, helping folks in the neighbouring towns who need it. It'd be nice to have a deputy to be able to do that for me."

"Really," you say suspiciously. "It all works out - just like that?"

"Yea," he says easily. "Just like that. Maybe… maybe it always was a little easier than we thought it'd be."

It shouldn't be surprising, you think as you and Daichi make it back to the train, that Koushi's done such an excellent job of keeping everything together. It's what he does, you recall - it's what he is. The pillar, the steady guiding hand, the shoulder to lean on. 

The train passengers, while still anxious and restless, are quiet and settled in their compartments when the two of you arrive, Daichi trusting you with the horses while he hauls Goshiki off to the car that serves as the crime scene.

After giving the conductor the go-ahead to continue the journey, Koushi's quick to follow after him, already standing in front of the criminal and scowling when you join them. Daichi's keeping Goshiki's hands cuffed behind his back, sitting beside him with his arms crossed as he keeps an eye on the killer while Koushi interrogates him - he's just getting to asking why you of all people were framed for the murders when you slide through the open door of the car, closing it gently behind you.

"I doubt you'll get anything from him," you say as you stand next to Koushi, crossing your arms and looking down at the sniffling boy and the way he presses his lips firmly together. "Wakatoshi doesn't treat traitors kindly."

"How do you know so much about Wakatoshi?" Daichi asks, yanking Goshiki's cuffs when the boy starts to shift, bracing his legs. The train begins to sway gently as it picks up its previous pace and you look down at the criminal carefully as you grin.

"I stole from him," you say simply. Goshiki, to your delight, doesn't look particularly surprised, choosing instead to glare up at you. With the way he shakes and the blotchy red of his tear-stained face, though, he looks a bit like a wet kitten trying to hiss for the first time.

"What?" Koushi whirls around to face you.

"The bank robberies - they weren't random." Koushi throws you a disapproving look at the boasting edge of your voice. "Wakatoshi has new little nobodies like him open accounts at banks and keep his blood money there. It means that it can't be traced back to him and he doesn't have to worry about the security of his own profits." Daichi blinks up at you as he listens, a hard look on his face as Goshiki shrinks under your words.

"So, the murders were… payback?" He questions. You shrug.

"Maybe," you say, your gaze trained on the boy in Daichi's grasp. "He might be getting sloppy. I wonder if he even killed them himself."

"He would never," Goshiki all but shouts as the three of you turn to stare at him. "Wakatoshi doesn't get his hands dirty like that, it's what he has -" He seems to realize his mistake too late, his eyes widening in panic as he stammers. "I - I didn't mean that. I didn't say anything. I -"

"Well, what's done is done." Daichi claps a hand onto Goshiki's shoulder, the boy flinching under the pressure of it as he lets his head hang. 

"Wakatoshi will have his head even for that," you say quietly.

"You shouldn't have taunted him then," Koushi quips, an annoyed sort of look on his face. 

"It's nothing we didn't already know," you respond lowly. "Wakatoshi's been using others to do his dirty work for years. But he keeps his people close… if we want to get to them, we need names." You stare at Goshiki hard as you speak, your foot propped up on the seat next to where he's sitting so that you can lean on a forearm as you look at him closely.

"We?" Says Koushi coyly. Your foot slips and you stumble to stand normally again, looking between him and Daichi.

"I said you."

"I think you said we," Daichi points out. You cross your arms and scowl at him.

"A day ago you thought I killed people for a living."

"Daichi's wrong all the time," Koushi points out. "It doesn't mean much." Daichi makes an indignant, defensive sort of noise, but the way he frowns and pouts makes him look anything other than genuinely angry. Koushi smiles gently, just for a moment, before turning to where you're standing and shifting your weight from side to side. He reaches to brush sandy residue off of your stetson and smooth down your windswept clothes, actions that have your face heating as you turn your eyes away from him.

"Come on, love…" he says gently, and when you look desperately to Daichi, the sheriff just laughs and shrugs. "You gonna let me call you Deputy? Hm? You gonna come home with us?" You just sigh and tip your head back, staring at the dark, steel ceiling of the train car, low and curving like the endless sky that it covers. You stare and you let yourself think, just for a fleeting moment, about what it must be like to have a home to come back to.

Koushi reaches to hold your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back down to look at him. You groan and squeeze your eyes shut as you lean away, spinning on your heel to slouch into the seat opposite Daichi and Goshiki. When your back hits the fabric, though, and you wince, the two of them narrow their eyes at you.

"How are the stitches?" Koushi asks stiffly, like he's biting his tongue to keep from chastising you. You just arch a brow in confusion.

"What stitches?"

"The ones I'm sure you got when you had your back looked at," he continues. You stare at him for a moment before letting your eyes flicker to Daichi, but he's mirroring his husband's disapproving frown.

"When you rolled over a pile of broken glass," the sheriff points out helpfully. You make a sound of understanding and purse your lips in mock indignation.

"Oh, you mean when I tried to shoot you," you quip. Daichi's face turns apologetic, but the effect is hindered by Koushi sitting down next to you and tugging at the layers of your clothing.

"Can I help you with something?" Your voice climbs in pitch as Koushi pulls your arm out of your jacket and moves on to tugging up the hem of your shirt.

"I'm checking on your stitches. Have you been cleaning the dressing regularly?" He asks easily - insistently.

"There are no stitches to check on -" Clearly the wrong choice of words. Koushi pauses his movements, leaning to look at you suspiciously. 

"What kind of doctor wouldn't give you stitches for cuts like that?" He asks flatly. You squirm in your seat, looking to Daichi for help, but he just glares stubbornly in response.

"The kind that doesn't exist?" Your voice is slow, wavering as you hesitate. Koushi scoffs. "I'm a wanted criminal, Koushi, I can't just go to a doctor, can I?"

"They swear an oath to help all people, you know," he chastises as he stands, stomping across the compartment to where Daichi's already rifling through his bag. When he pulls out a first aid kit, Koushi snatches it from him, coming back to you with it in his hand like he's brandishing some kind of weapon.

"Yes, but they don't swear an oath not to have you arrested after they - ow, Koushi -" But you have a distinct suspicion that your partner's stop listening to you when he successfully rolls the back of your shirt up, hissing at the sight.

"How bad is it?" Swamura says softly, looking at you with a gentleness that has you shifting where you sit, your shoulders tightening.

"It'll be better once I'm done with it," Koushi responds quietly, concentration thickening his voice as he works on cleaning the wounds as the antiseptic burns you. He shushes you softly at your sharp inhale, distracting himself just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder as he wipes away dried blood.

There's an intimacy of it all that has you reeling, has you staring out the window towards the dunes of sand that pass in a blur, the endlessly sweeping winds tumbling by. When you were younger, you'd dreamed of sights like this - sights of an open road leading on and on and away. But now that you have it, there's a longing in you that still won't quit, a need that's tugged at your heart for all of these long, lonely years.

It's a need that slows now, you realize haltingly - a yearning that paces itself amidst the thick haze of worry that pours from Daichi and the gentle touch of Koushi's hands brushing against your spine. You notice the safety of it all with a hint of panic, whipping your head around to face forward and being met with Koushi's hand resting firmly on the back of your neck, his low voice chastising you gently for moving so much while he bandages your back. And so, it becomes inescapable - the care that wraps around you. 

"Maybe it was stupid of us," you say slowly, letting your eyes fall to the compartment floor.

"Hm?" Koushi murmurs. 

"For us all to go our separate ways the way that we did," you clarify. Daichi smiles in a quiet, remorseful sort of way.

"We did waste a lot of time, didn't we?" You look up at him as he speaks, at the softness in his voice and the age in his eyes. He shifts where he sits, his hand tightening on Goshiki's handcuffs as his eyes flicker to the empty seat next to you. You wonder if the distance pains him the way that it's pained you for all of these years, if even the few feet that separate you now feel as vast as the desert outside.

"I don't think so," Koushi's gentle voice breaks the intensity of the longing gazes you and Daichi had been shooting at each other - much to the embarrassed relief of Goshiki, who sits and squirms and pulls at his cuffs. "Don't we always have to find ourselves before we find each other? Hm? There's a lot of places to get lost out here." You tilt your head back to face the window at Koushi's words, at the horizon that stretches on beyond what you can see.

"You two didn't really leave, though," you murmur. "It was just me who got lost out there." Koushi, having smoothed your shirt back down and helped you gently back into your jacket, brushes a hand over the back of your head gently. Daichi clears his throat and jerks his head towards Goshiki, leading Koushi to get up and switch places with him without another word needing to be said. 

It stings, watching the two of them move in such a rhythm, years of love and belonging making themselves known. But then Daichi sits next to you and pulls you against him, one arm wrapping around you gently while the other cups the back of your head and tucks your face under his chin.

"We would never leave you like that, my star," he murmurs gently, rocking you back and forth in that firm way of his. You try to pull away from him, try to plant your hands on his chest and push him away, but Daichi's gotten strong in the years since you've known him, broad and firm and immovable.

"But you did -"

"We didn't. We left - we give up when you give up, we walk away when you disappear," he says firmly as you give up your struggle, letting yourself sag against him with a weary, dejected sigh.

"It was a coincidence, love," Koushi adds as he looks on, pained by the stress in your eyes and the distance between you. "We stumbled onto each other in a town that we were both trying to be strangers in. We just… found each other. We find each other." 

You look at Koushi as he speaks, feeling Daichi's hand trace up and down your arm while he hums his agreement. You wonder, sort of distantly, what made you go to that town when you did - what made you choose that road, that saloon, that memory to drag back up from the dead.

"Is this really all coincidence?" You ask quietly. Koushi grins, a soft, loving sort of thing that has you looking away.

"Maybe it isn't," he offers shyly. "Maybe we were always going to find one another out here in the middle of nowhere." You scoff at his words, a vain attempt to distract from the tears blurring your vision as you stare out the window, refusing to be where you are now. Daichi places a knowing kiss to the back of your hand and tucks you further into his chest, away from the outside world and the endlessness of it. 

"We have a long way to go still," he says quietly, a welcome distraction that you thank him for by squeezing his hand gently and intertwining your fingers with his. "We should rest… and take turns watching him." Goshiki shrinks under the attention, but Koushi just laughs.

"And when we get to the end of the line?" He asks. Daichi just settles further into the cushioned seat.

"We'll buy some new tickets and catch a train home… all four of us," he declares. You eye Goshiki hesitantly, watching the way he tugs on his cuffs and lets his eyes flit around restlessly.

"And what will you do with him then?" You ask quietly. Daichi sucks his teeth in a moment of pretend thoughtfulness just to see the boy squirm.

"I think anyone like him deserves a second chance… you never know, if he's willing to turn on Wakatoshi and spill some secrets… well, things could start really looking up for him."

"You should be careful who you give second chances to," you quip quietly as you watch the boy's eyes light up. "There's no limit to how many times someone can turn their back on you."

"No, there isn't," Daichi says thoughtfully, smoothing a hand over your back carefully. "But I have a good feeling about it this time around."

Koushi thinks, rather sullenly, that three months is far too long for any deputy sheriff to be away - that when you finally return home he'll make you and his husband swear to never send you away like that again. He's polishing glasses, muttering under his breath about the audacity of it all when the saloon doors swing open and the familiar jingle of spurs reaches his ears.

He's a bit surprised, honestly, that you manage to catch the glass he all but throws in his haste to slam into you, hugging you tightly enough to have you stumbling back.

"Aw, did you miss me?" You ask coyly. Koushi untangles himself from you and sniffs indignantly, snatching the glass from your hands and moving back behind the bar to put it away.

"No," he says flatly.

"Hmm, I think you did." Koushi shoots you a scathing look and you grin, sliding onto a stool at the bar and watching as he pours you a drink without having to ask. You prop your chin in your hand and watch as he wipes down the counter.

"I hope you did," you say quietly, a bit of the teasing melting from your voice. He looks up at you then, blinking in a startled sort of way before softening, throwing the rag he'd been using somewhere behind the bad and coming to stand in front of you and lean over the wooden top towards you. You lean in, too, a response that feels innate as you close your eyes. 

But instead of his lips against yours, you feel your stetson being plucked from your head and when you look at him, Koushi's got it placed haphazardly on his own head. You scoff, turning away for a moment in the desperate hope that he won't notice the heat spreading through your cheeks, but his laugh tells you that you've been found out.

"What do you think, am I a real cowboy now?" He taunts, and you run a hand through your hair as you stare, flustered more than you care to admit. 

"I think you're a real fuckin tease, that's what," you quip back, but the way he tips his head back and laughs makes the embarrassment of it all worth it. "This is stealing. I could arrest you for this, you know." Koushi just bats his eyes and sticks his wrists out towards you, pouting.

"Aw, wouldn't you?" he says coyly.

That's how Daichi finds the two of you, of course - you groaning hopelessly and burying your head in your hands while Koushi adjusts your hat on his head. The sheriff laughs at the sight, rolling his eyes fondly as he pats you on the back consolingly and slides onto the stool next to you. 

You lift your head enough to look up at him, at the shining mirth in his eyes and the way he opens his mouth to join in on the teasing. Intent on stopping that, though, you reach up to pluck his own stetson from his head, placing it on yours instead. That is, of course, enough to have him snap his mouth shut and blush profusely, looking away from you in a vain attempt to save face. 

Koushi leans over the bar to press a kiss to his heated cheek and then to your grinning one, murmuring something sweet in your ear about how he really is happy to have you back. Something in you flutters a bit as he looks at you intently and you realize that he's not just talking about having his deputy sheriff back in town.

"Well, I'm glad someone is," you sigh dramatically, leaning against Daichi's broad, solid shoulder. That seems to draw him out of his embarrassment enough to wrap an arm around your shoulders, the thumb and forefinger of his other hand tilting your head gently up so that he can plant a kiss on your lips. 

"It's good to have you home, my star," he says softly. A gentle sort of sentiment. You smile against his lips, a tension leaving you that you hadn't really realized you'd been carrying.

"Yea," you sigh. "It's good to be home."

[peyton-warren]

Inside the Shadow

Characters: Walter Marshall (Night Hunter), Reader, Inconsequential copier Word count: 2783 Reader Gender: Any Type: One-shot fluffy drabble Beta: @ellethespaceunicorn Warning: None really, but to be safe under 18 DNI, ass wiggling, startling Reader, staring Walter

Summary: Walter surprises Reader in the office copier room.

Author Note: This fic is brought to you by the song “Motor Running” by the Jompson Brothers and my poor coworker who caught me making copies to that song. Banner by me.

Masterlist

You danced your way down the hallway at the precinct.  You had your noise canceling headphones on as you headed towards your floor’s copy machine, your favorite song to move to playing in your ears.  You were here late, catching up on paperwork.  You honestly liked it when you were the only one here.  You got more done this way than all the other hours of the day together when everyone else was here too.  

Ok so admittedly there were people on the main floor of the precinct.  This was a police station after all and the only one for over a 50+ mile radius.  But your floor is locked to anyone who doesn't have access linked to their key badge.  

It was going on towards 10pm and you were finally seeing the light at the end of your tunnel.  You were printing off a few pages of notes to file in the final case file before you were gonna head home for the night.    And as your pages printed, you wiggled more to the music in your ears as you pondered what food place was going to be open on your way home.  You had a feeling your options were going to be the gas station, IHOP or McDonalds.  You sigh at this but it wasn't a shock, having lived in this small ass town as long as you had. With a final butt wiggle, you spin on your heel back towards the copy machine that surely must be done spitting out your notes by now.  

As you do, you are startled nearly out of your skin by the hulking dark figure in the doorway.  You jump and squeak before recognizing the sweater clad Detective Marshall.  Reeling, you rip your head phones off your head as you realize his eyes are still trained on the spot where your ass had been mere moments ago, making you realize you just gave him a bit of a show.  With his head still tilted down and unmoving at being caught looking, his eyes shift to yours.  You feel your cheeks blush in time with pink appearing on his.  

“What??” you snap trying to hide your embarrassment.

“What?” Walter replies, just as snippy.  

“What?” you echo again. 

Realizing you both sound ridiculous, you grab your printouts from the copier and move toward the door.  But Walter is still in the way.  You purse lips and cross your arms, tucking your notes under one arm and your headphones under the other as you glare at the handsomest man in the building, on the force, and in the town really.  And the most unattainable one too.   

You huff your frustration at his lack of availability more than his lack of movement, but it seems to snap him out of his daze.  He takes a step back into the hallway and sweeps his arm with the file folder through the air in a mock bow.  You give him a responding curtsy before scooting out of the room.  You slap the head phones back on and wiggle your way back down the hall to your office, ignoring the hot stare back on your ass. 

[peachsayshi]

Inexperienced!reader sending playboy!geto nudes😋

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x virgin female reader (part 3) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 5.8k

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ part 1 / part 2

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: in honor of sugu’s birthday - here’s an update! I cannot stress enough how much I love writing about these two! This might be one of my favorite geto pieces that I've written so far - thank you for sending over this request, nonnie! I'm sorry it takes me so long to get through them sldkfjslfj 🧡

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: character mentions: shoko and gojo, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; sending nudes; clitoral stimulation; foreplay; heavy petting; smut; light angst in the beginning (mostly backstory); mentions that reader gets jealous; just the tip (?); oral mention (m receiving)  

When Shoko introduced you to Suguru Geto, she gave you the following warning: “don’t fall for his bullshit or you’ll be reduced to a number.” 

You found it strange that she talked about one of her best friends in such a derogatory manner, but Suguru’s womanizing reputation accompanied him like a shadow. Shoko felt it was necessary to warn you of his behavior considering he would fuck anyone who caught his interest. 

This was the reputation that you tied to a man whose face you didn’t know, and it wasn’t until you met Suguru in person that you began to understand the allure surrounding his character. 

Geto’s beauty is breathtaking, mirroring a night sky littered with bright constellations. When he laid eyes on you for the first time, he bypassed his way straight to your soul. He held your gaze while he talked, speaking with a natural confidence that dominated the conversation. As the evening carried on, you were convinced that the word to describe how attractive he is didn’t exist yet. 

You could tell that Geto knew exactly what kind of reaction he could conjure with a simple smile. 

You almost forgot about Shoko’s cautionary words until you saw the evidence of her claims displayed as faded hickeys on Suguru’s neck. He wore those marks like a badge of honor, and the lack of shame he felt over displaying them had you wondering if he even cared that anyone could notice.  

“He told me he thinks you're cute,” Shoko admitted to you a few days later, and you tried really hard not to react over how much that flattered you. “I would ignore him though. He’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

You swore to yourself that you would be careful the next time you hung out with Suguru, but you quickly learned how difficult it would be to deflect his advances. As time passed you got to see the man in his truest form. You grew to admire his loyalty and consideration towards his friends which was soon extended to you the closer you bonded with the group. His witty sense of humor had you bursting into fits of laughter, but it also paralleled with a serious side that sucked you into long hours of deep conversations. 

Then one night while hanging out at Gojo’s house, you found yourself in the most precarious situation. You had no idea what exactly occurred that had you and Suguru all alone in the living room, while the rest of your friends disappeared somewhere within Gojo’s large estate.

You remember being on opposite sides of the couch to suddenly nuzzling closer into Geto’s space. The man was a dangerous magnet, and throughout the night had been pulling you into him without you even realizing it. Your heart rapidly raced when he complimented how beautiful you looked, and your lungs stopped working when you felt the tips of his fingers lightly hold the bottom of your chin as he decided to close the gap of space with a kiss. 

The brush of his lips over yours was enough for you to forcefully reel your heart out of that lustful haze. At this point you knew you liked Suguru far more than you anticipated. While kissing him would satisfy many of your desires, you weren’t willing to gamble your first experiences on a man who couldn’t reciprocate your feelings in return. The ache just wasn’t worth it, especially when Suguru had the title “heartbreaker” stamped across his dreamy face.

Instead, you pressed four fingers against his mouth and shifted your gaze down to your lap. 

“Please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it, Suguru,” you pleaded, unaware of how his face fell at the sound of your small voice. 

Only after you started dating did he admit how much it hurt hearing you say that. His only intention was to kiss the girl that he’d grown to like, but he didn’t realize how insincere he came across until he saw your reaction. He knew he had to change then, especially since he’s made it quite clear to everyone around him that he wasn’t interested in serious relationships. 

Nobody believed that he would be able to commit, but Suguru proved them all wrong. You can never take away the effort he put in to earn your trust just to make this work. You’ve both come so far since the early days of your little cat and mouse game - the question of “will they, won’t they” no longer concerning anyone around you.  

That’s why suguru isn’t willing to lose you over stupid reasons that couldn't be talked out, and in turn you vowed that you would never use his past as a dagger in your relationship. 

This trust is what created a perfect harmony between you both, but there were still unexpected circumstances that tried to cut the sweet melody. 

A few days ago, you and suguru were enjoying a peaceful afternoon together. You were making plans for his birthday when halfway through the discussion decided to take a break and stop by the new cafe that had just opened up across the street from where he lived. 

The first thing you noticed about the interaction was the immediate way suguru tensed up upon greeting the barista. The pretty, pretty girl was taken aback by his presence, her voice breaking when his name left her and she nearly knocked over the tip jar resting by her side. 

Suguru nervously scratched the back of his head, an unsteady laugh escaping him as he stated that “it’s been a while” since they last saw one another.

Meanwhile, the barista blushed furiously as she jotted down your orders. You caught her attention flickering to Suguru’s tight hold on your waist when he pulled you even closer to his frame. Your boyfriend's calm demeanor was soon replaced by fake enthusiasm. He was trying really hard to glaze over the awkwardness of small talk by being casual but you could tell that he was flustered.

Despite his discomfort, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at her - a natural recognition that unintentionally isolated you from the picture. You didn’t even have to ask what happened between them because you could see the passionate memories flicker across the counter through a mere exchange of glances.

That’s the thing about Suguru - his eyes are so expressive; they show the sincerity of his feelings for you and the brewing heat of his desires. They glow vibrant whenever he is happy and dim during moments of sadness. They expand as his anger rises and deepen on days when his sleepiness won’t leave him. There was so much that his eyes shared with you, but this exchange was new because Suguru has never regarded you like that before.

You weren’t bothered by any of it. 

The hard truth is that you had to acknowledge the fact that there were boundaries surrounding the intimacy of your relationship. While you refused to dangle Suguru’s past over his head, you still couldn’t deny that it played a part in why you’ve been maintaining these boundaries for this long.

You had your own concerns that worried you - what if Suguru loses interest the second he fucks you? What if this was just something he needed to get out of his system...a conquest in which he wanted to walk away victorious?

Even though these were ugly manifestations of your own anxieties, they still plagued your thoughts. You always wrestled with your guilt for reducing your boyfriend’s character to a hollow shell, but you still didn’t have an answer as to why you were so different from everybody else. 

The barista reminded you of that very fact. Her infatuation over Suguru was written plainly across her face. You empathized with her feelings because that’s exactly how he affected you. You were absolutely besotted by this man, and knew that he had the hearts of many others tucked away underneath his mattress. 

Her response towards him poked at your jealousy. You suddenly had an overwhelming sense to stake your claim over him. You wanted to interject the entire exchange by pulling him in for a kiss just to show her that there was zero possibility of any seconds chances coming her way. Alas, these were childish thoughts, ones that would only gratify you but make it worse for everyone else involved.

You decided to sweep it under the rug before intervening at the end. You thanked the barista when she handed you your drinks before leaving a few notes in the tip jar as you said your goodbyes. 

Being the gentleman that he is, Suguru profusely apologized about the situation afterwards. He was far more concerned with your own feelings, and vulnerably admitted that he didn’t know how to handle running into his past lovers with you around. 

“You know I'm not trying to fuck this up.” he adamantly claimed when you both entered his apartment, even though there was absolutely no reason to fault him for what just happened.

For once you found yourself consoling him. You kissed his cheek, the muscles easing all over his handsome face and murmured that there was nothing for him to worry about. His broad shoulders fell with relief, and he held your face before pulling you back in to capture your lips for another kiss in acknowledgement of your kind remarks. 

“You don’t have to worry either about anything, or anyone.”

Whatever envy you carried over his contemplation for this other woman dissipated when Suguru locked into your eyes. Your heart skipped over every other beat, something about his expression coiled hot strings around your veins. This was a look that thrilled and scared you at the same time, but you weren’t able to piece together exactly what it meant.

For the first time in the duration of your relationship, you found yourself countering your own decisions. 

What exactly am I waiting for? 

After everything that happened, were you really going to turn around and keep him at an arm’s length? How many more tests did Suguru have to go through to prove to you that he was yours? How many more reasons did he need to give you that there was nobody else he was interested in?

The instant you returned Suguru’s kiss is when you realized that you had been holding back while your boyfriend has been making extraordinary efforts to move forward. The recent incidents you both experienced proved that you desperately pined for one another, and by now you understood how significant it would be when you have sex together for the first time. 

You wanted more, that is why you decided that you would no longer allow reason to guide your judgement on this particular subject and finally chose your heart to take the lead.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊ ┊    ┊⋆     ┊   . ┊    ┊       ⋆˚               ✧. ┊          ⋆ ★

Gojo had dibs on Suguru the night before his birthday as part of his tradition with Shoko, where the trio all rang in his birthday together at midnight.

Gojo asked if you would like to join, but you had other plans to put in place.

Suguru was yours from the afternoon onwards; you were setting the scene for his arrival, quite aware that your impending surprise would be put a twist to his day. 

One hand lightly traces the curve of your neck while the other twirls the string of your silk black robe. Your gaze travels over the silhouette of your body reflecting against the mirror, and floating in the background were strings of black and silver balloons that decorated the ceiling of your bedroom. 

You angled your body in front of the mirror, taking a few strides back until your legs pressed against the edge of the bed. Your heart started thumping in your chest, your stomach twisting into itself as you slowly began to undo the robe. Pulling the silk fabric apart, you shivered when the cold air brushed along your torso.

You barely recognized yourself in your brand new lingerie set. The bra had a unique design, from the front it looked like your chest was covered with an enormous emerald bow. The high cut underwear had two tiny strings that pinched the flesh of your hips, and accentuated your curves perfectly. 

You plop onto the mattress and reach for your phone.

Recalling the exact position from the boudoir photo you found online, you decided to replicate the woman’s pose by extending one leg out and bending the other as you twisted your hips slightly to the left. You hooked your index finger around the string of your underwear, and puffed out your chest to ensure the peaks of your breasts were prominent in the shot. 

You can’t muster up the courage to show your face in this lewd position, and decide to keep the phone safely in front of you to hide your expression. With a few subtle adjustments you began snapping your photos, arching and writhing to change your angles after every couple of shots.

For the next set of pictures, you decided to remove the bra and change your position. With the side of your body facing the mirror, you pressed your chest into the mattress and raised your hips. You held the strapless bra in your free hand to emphasize that you were, in fact, naked at this very moment. You even went as far as to boldly drop the bra altogether, hovering your chest just a little bit higher off the mattress to give suguru a taste of what’s to come. 

The entire process felt like an outer body experience.

Once you finished, you swiped through each individual shot, picking your favorites before editing the photos just to adjust the lighting and color.

You wanted the image to look as striking as possible.

Your throat tightened as you opened up your chat with Suguru. You know that he’s still asleep, trying to recover from the night’s festivities. The last messaged you received was around 3 AM, where he informed you that he made it safely back home.

Just got in. I’ll see you tomorrow.

A brief moment of insecurity takes over, psyching you out entirely but with a quick huff you brushed it aside before typing up your reply. This is something you’ve both been looking forward to for a while, and you were confident in taking the first step over the dividing line. 

Morning, birthday boy -I can’t wait to celebrate with you xo  

You sent the text first, then followed up the message with the photos. 

Blue light brightens your anxious face, and you hated knowing that you’re going to have to simmer with anticipation until your boyfriend finally wakes up.

Minutes pass but it felt like hours. You nervously paced around the bedroom doing minor tasks to keep your mind off the photos. You fixed yourself back to your initial attire, before heading over to the kitchen to check on the cake stored in the fridge. You then called Suguru’s favorite ramen bar to confirm reservations for tonights dinner, before finally proceeding to wrap up his second gift which was a new silver chain.

You returned back to the bedroom, placing the gift on your side table before finally satisfying your worries and picking up the phone. 

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach when the saw that the message had switched from “seen” to “read” - but there was no response.

After thirty minutes of silence your chest tightens with regret. You thought Suguru would appreciate your daring approach, but when you tried to reverse the situation in your mind, you realized how mortified you would probably be if he were to wake up one day and decide to randomly send you nudes.

You didn’t even know if this was his kind of thing. You’ve never actually spoken about it before and just assumed with how open he was with his own sexuality that he would be elated by the pictures.

How could you drop the ball on him without taking into consideration that up until this point the man has been nothing but patient with you?

He didn’t deserve this.

Before you allow yourself to fall in such a downward spiral, a frantic knock comes through from your front door.

“Just a minute!” you call out, eyes darting between the cupboard and drawers as you start looking for a pair of sweats.

“It’s me, open up.” 

Suguru’s reply had you running on autopilot with your anxiety on full display. You quickly left your bedroom and make your way over to the entrance of your apartment. Your fingers clench into a tight fist, your nails imprinting crescents in your palms as you nervously opened the front door. 

Suguru is panting; breathing heavy like he’d just ran a marathon. The layers of his hair were falling over his face, unable to stay in place from the way he tied his messy bun. Your gaze shifted to his clothes, a mix match of grey that didn’t quite put together a proper outfit. He was wearing gym sweats along with one of his favorite t-shirts and slides with uneven socks. Your brows lifted in surprise, but as you parted your lips to ask why he looked so disheveled, the corner of his mouth twitched into a sinful grin. 

Suguru straightened his spine, showing off his dominating height as he took a few steps forward. He closed the door behind him, naturally reaching for your waist and his touch instantly reminds you of the indecent outfit you currently had on. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack...” he breathes, pulling you into his broad frame and the force of his strength makes you squeak. 

“You didn’t say text me back, I-I thought you didn’t like it-” you blurt out the second your voice finds it’s clearance. 

Suguru doesn’t let you finish. One hand moves to hold your face, while the other tightens its grip around your waist. His lips are on yours instantly, it’s a soft kiss at first until he parts your mouth and slides his wet tongue along yours. You reach for his wrist, tracing your fingers along the smooth beads of the bracelet you bought him when you first started dating. Your nerves wither away, and he only leaves your sweet mouth when he feels you melt into his embrace.

“Are you supposed to be my present? Or was it just the photos?” he chuckles adorably then follows his question by kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I’d like to be,” you mumble against his lips. “I just want to make this day special for you, Sugu.” 

His hand travels to the nape of your neck, and he holds you tenderly as he presses his forehead against yours. He sighs with relief, closing his eyes for a moment and keeping his smile.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to handle you spoiling me like this,” he teases, then reaches for your hand to guide you back to the bedroom.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊ ┊    ┊⋆     ┊   . ┊    ┊       ⋆˚               ✧. ┊          ⋆ ★

Suguru’s fingers knead your plush thighs straddled over his hips. I’m so lucky, he thinks, I’m so lucky you’re mine. He rests his head against the bed frame, the strands of his freed mane circling his face like an obsidian halo. He hums at the sight of your perked breasts pushed up by your bra. His thumb and index finger rub the satin fabric of the bow and his eyes twinkle with appreciation. He’s quite pleased that he’s earned this…that’s he’s earned the right to see how cute you look like this. 

“Look at you,” he whispers in disbelief, snaking his bottom lip between his teeth as he studies you with care. His index fingers hook around the strings of your underwear, and he retracts the material before releasing it just to hear the band snap against your skin. 

You reach to squeeze his shoulders in response.

“Do you like it?” you ask politely, referring to the lingerie set even though your boyfriend’s mind is focusing on other things. 

Suguru sighs once more before circling his arms around your waist. 

“I like you. Everything else is just the cherry on top...” 

He arches forward to softly peck your collar bone, then guides his mouth up your neck to plant another kiss underneath your jaw. 

"I can’t stop taking you in,” he mumbles. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. You’re so perfect...”

You exhale quietly. You can feel your body turn into liquid in his embrace as your stomach flutters. You reach for the nape of his neck, lightly scratching the back as you open your lovestruck eyes to soak in his beauty.

“You are too, Sugu.” 

Your precious reply has him searching for your lips to taste your honeyed voice, and he happily swallows the pretty moan that follows. Your fingers thread between the strands of his hair as you allow him to kiss you with unrestricted passion. Tangled tongues interchange with tender bites when two hands suddenly reach for the hooks of your bra. You don’t stop Suguru when he unfastens the band or when he slowly pulls the material away from your chest. You’re too busy devouring his kisses like a hungry kitten while your arousal pools between your legs from the sensation of his mouth alone. 

You can’t imagine it feeling better than even though this is just the tip of the iceberg. 

“I need to know...” Suguru interjects, his breath hot and heavy as he tries to even it out. “I need to know when you want to stop-’

“Don’t wanna stop,” you pout with a shake of your head, your mumbled reply laced with disappointment when he tilts his head away as he raises one brow.

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhmm, more than anything….” 

“But…what changed your mind?” 

You track a line down the bridge of his angular nose, the pad of your finger tapping his cupid’s bow and you lean in to retrieve the kiss you sought out earlier. 

“You did.”  

“Huh,” he contemplates, “I guess...I guess we are doing this then…” 

“Yeah...” you sigh into his mouth as you gently rock your hips. “I guess we are.”   

Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head mindlessly at your consenting words.

“Fuck, okay…can-can we just slow things down for a second...” 

He leans back slightly so he can get a better look at you and something twists in his lower belly from your dazed expression. He motions to hold your face in his hand, his thumb swiping over your puffed bottom lip and dragging across a tiny string of saliva. He nearly melts into the mattress beneath him when you absentmindedly kiss the tip of his finger as your eyes fall heavy. 

You have no idea what you are doing to him right now.  

Suguru wants to eat you right up, keep you in place as he allows himself to savor every inch of your bare skin. He takes another second to find the motor controlling his restraints, holding himself back from suddenly caging you beneath him and fucking you until you were a blubbering mess. 

He leers at your chest, bringing one large hand to cup your breast which makes his mouth dry up like he swallowed a ball of cotton. You naturally try to curl away, but stop when his thumb drags over the peak of your mound and delicately brushes your nipple. With nothing but sheer adoration blinding him, he repeats the action a few times until he feels your nipple pebble against his touch. Your lashes flutter like small bird’s wing, and he brings his fingers to the tips of both your breasts to massage both nipples.

“God, look at your fucking tits, sweetheart…” he rasps in between fondling you, “m’pretty girl…you’re more gorgeous than I imagined...” ”

You’ve seen the many faces of his lustful appetite but none of them compared to this. Your clit throbs from the praise; you don’t know how far he’s planning on going tonight, and your thighs clench with anticipation from how sensitive you were feeling already. 

Suguru takes that as a queue to observe the space between your legs and his cock twitches at the darkened patch on your underwear.

“Turn around, sweetheart. Back to my chest.” 

The strong tone of his command sent shivers up your spine. You nod your head, leaving one last kiss on his cheek before shifting your position until you were seated comfortably right in front of him. He groans when your ass rubs over his erection, and you stop yourself from moving when when his hands grip your knees. Flushed against his chest, Suguru drops his chin to your shoulder and caresses the side of his face to your cheek. He runs his nail beds back and forth, before finally extending his fingers and spreading your thighs a little wider. 

“This isn’t going to hurt, I promise. Just relax f’me okay?”

You nod your head, your eyes focusing on your boyfriend’s hands as you watch him lift the strings of your underwear just a little bit higher. The material pulls against you, outlining the shape of your slit and you whimper when he slides one hand underneath to compress his fingers into the fat of your left hip. 

His other hand teases you, knuckles brushing over your lower belly and your stomach sinks from the ticklish sensation. He motions his index finger along the thin band of your underwear, and at a painfully gradual pace begins to direct himself closer to your clothed pussy. 

His eyes widen, the tips of his ears burning as his chest pinches at the sound of your breath wavering from the contact. 

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he points out in surprise, “Ugh, I haven’t really touched you yet...”

Your nose bumps into his when you angle yourself to face him. Your speaking into his lips, one hand gliding up to hold the back of his head as you sigh out your reply. 

“M’always wet whenever we kiss,” you admit shyly.

Suguru’s brows pinch together in frustration and he prods his fingers deeper into your hip. 

“Shit, I’m on a short trigger right now...” he snarls, while simultaneously turning his head back so he can get a proper look at your cunt. “...I won't last long if you keep talking like that.” 

He curses again under his breath, tugging your underwear aside only to find your glittering slick catch onto the material. He licks his lips eagerly, thrilled to know that he would eventually get a taste of this untouched fruit. He takes in the shape of your lips, and you whimper when his expert fingers press against your labia as he lewdly spreads you open.

Your weeping hole drips honey; the man has half a mind to push two fingers inside you to feel you suck him in, but he would have to save that for another day. He can see how responsive you are, and the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you with too much stimulation.

You’ve given him the access, and he wasn’t going to abuse his privileges. 

He gathers up your arousal with two fingers then finds your clit. The pressure is gentle at first as he lubricates the bud, massaging in a circular motion while loosening his hold on your hip. Your back arches against his ministrations as he maintains his steady pace. His free hand floats up along your ribs until it tweaks your hard nipple. Your voice trembles when you whine, and you hold onto his legs for more support as you begin to roll your hips into his hand. Suguru can feel himself tenting in his sweats, and he pinches your clit before switching to broad strokes to tease your vulva. 

“Like how that feels?” he coos into your ear. 

“Mmph, yeah...” 

“Going to train this pussy to take my dick well, stretch you out nice and good so that’s all you feel when I’m inside you...” 

He won’t admit that it can’t happen yet - the man wouldn’t be able to control his natural impulses with your submission. All of this was equally as overwhelming for him. God knows how long he’s waited, how often he relieved himself with a firm grip around his dick just picturing what was playing out before him. 

He presses his finger against the opening, ghosting over the hole l to tease you. Your hips buck into his hand, and Suguru pulls at your nipple in response. He presses his lips to where your neck and shoulder meet, sucking on your skin until a blemish breaches the surface.  

“You’re all I want, all I fucking need...” 

“Sugu...” 

He rolls your nipple between his finger, his touch returning to your pulsing clit as he tenderly works the bud. 

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me...don’t want anyone else,” he carries on, the words spilling out of him faster than he can think. 

“Suguru, shit-ah...” you quiver, the ache in your core tightening your abdominal walls and the build up has you gripping the back of your boyfriend’s hair roughly.

His lips stay against your neck, wet open-mouthed kisses sweeping your skin and he molds his hand over your breast to latch onto you. His fingers are moving faster now, and you pull your legs further apart as you grind your hips. When his mouth finally finds yours, he leaves just enough space for you both to share breaths.

He knows how close you are. There is no way you would be able to hold off the way he likes just yet - it doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before on your own because Suguru’s touch is still so unfamiliar.

“Sugu, sugu...god, I’m gonna-m’gonna...” 

He silences your angelic voice with a kiss, coveting each and every sound that you have already given him, and knows that he is about to push you over the edge. 

A few more strokes do it; the all consuming feeling has your body contracting, he can feel your muscles pulse when he cups your pussy in his hand. Your hips thrusting into the air as you fight through the waves of your pleasure. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy...” Suguru laughs into your neck. He holds you until you settle back against his chest, and you try to catch your breath while coming down from your high. 

A few minutes pass until Suguru unwraps his arms around you. He falls back against the pillows, closing his eyes as he subconsciously squeezes the outline of his prominent erection and groans with exasperation. 

The bulbous head of his cock leaked so much pre cum it stained through the front of his gray sweats.

“Sugu?” you call out, and he notices how heavy his head feels when he opens his eyes. 

His thigh muscle twitches underneath your palm. Through a hazy lens he sees you on all fours, your face angling itself over his cock.

You quickly glance back to look at him from under your lashes. 

He sees what you want to do, but his throat tightens like someone had just poured thick honey down the hatch. He blinks away the seconds, watching your curious hands roam underneath his top, and he feels your fingers hook around his sweat pants and boxers. 

“Your turn, birthday boy...” you say in a cheeky voice. 

Suguru moans and it sounds like he’s an actual pain waiting to be alleviated. He raises his hips as you help remove the fabric constraining him and he catches the way your eyes circle into orbs watching his impressive length spring out of his boxers and slap against his lower belly. 

Suguru knows he’s big - his past lovers never complained about what his genes graciously gifted him, but he can practically see the thought “how’s that going to fit” run through your mind when you stare at him like a deer in the headlight. 

You drop his clothes to the side, your apprehension creeping back as your jaw goes slack fixating on his length. Protruding veins run up the shaft, his cockhead a deep purple dribbling with cum. He isn’t neatly trimmed as usual, pushing off his upkeep since he had no reason to be obsessive about maintenance. 

“You don’t...” he grunts, thinking he can just quickly take care of himself to avoid pressuring you, “you don’t have to do anything-” 

You return back to all fours; resting your cheek against his inner thigh while Suguru observes you with curious eyes. He watches you wrap your fingers around the base, giving him a few soft pumps, before leaning forward and licking a stripe up the underside. Your mouth finds the tip, and you kiss the head lovingly before sucking over the slit. 

“You’re beautiful, Sugu,” you sigh dreamily.  

Suguru’s hands catches the bedsheets. His eyes shoot wide open to gaze at the rounded balloons above his head. Your mouth parts, and you take him, carefully widening your jaw as you lower down to swallow every inch. 

“Just the tip...just the tip for now,” your boyfriend sobs, his voice cracking upon making his second demand. 

He didn’t want you to overestimate what you can handle, and he wasn’t stable enough to maintain any composure about fucking your throat. 

You release the head with a little pop, leaving soft pecks on the side as your other hand grabs the weight of his heavy balls. 

“Tell me what to do,” you request, any uncertainty in your voice veiled by your confidence to please him. 

“Suck on it - like what you j-just did,” he informs, one of his fingers moving to trail the shell of your ear, “and just keeping pumping at the base...ugh, fuck...yeah, just like that...” 

You follow his instruction well, your lips swallowing the tip as your tongue rolls around the head like a lollipop. You jerk him off at the same time until you find your own rhythm that suited you. The warmth emanating off of his body blankets him, and he literally feels his soul grow malleable inside him. Suguru moans your name over and over again - it sounds like a prayer on his lips as tears prick his eyes. You don’t stop until thick ropes of of cum release into your mouth, and a flash of white blinds him as you deliver him to salvation.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

tag list: @damn-geto @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd @shuxjodie @mikasackrmann @alreadyblondenow @nanamikentcs @aizumie @mrsmorgenstern @artemisthestar @velvetlight333 @sluttoru @smoothy-ve @bisexualwomanofcolour @bloombb @sleepygeto @dont-ask-me-pls   @half-baked-biscuit @kreishin​

[wisecura]

The wind and the leaf

Sanemi x Tsuguko-f!reader

summary: You are the Tsuguko to Sanemi, the formidable Wind Hashira famed for his abrasive and harsh demeanor. Yet, your cool and calm presence in his live has him reeling. He just cant figure you out.

an: man i just gotta thing for mean dudes with bad personalities. not sure the direction for this fic, but I want it short and sweet.

warning: this story may contain yandere-esque features. The later chapters may be unsuitable for all readers. Proceed with this in mind....I mean...the dude literally stabbed a lil girl to prove a point so...

p.2

swoosh swoosh

Sanemi Shinazugawa, the infamous Wind Hashira, was a force to be reckoned with.

Adorned with battle scars like badges of honor, he exuded a raw intensity that sent tremors through the hearts of many demons. Fiery and aggressive, his bloodlust towards those grotesque creatures simmered just beneath the surface.

He was the embodiment of a warrior consumed by his purpose.

And then there was you.

His Tsuguko.

You were a stark contrast to Sanemi's volatile nature.

Serene and calm, moving through life with an ethereal grace. Soft where he was hard. Smooth where he was rough. Kind where he was brash. The most beautiful person he's ever seen, flowing with grace and poise. Dedicated, hardworking, and oh so admirable. It hadn't been a difficult decision to take you on as his student. If he were to fault you on anything though...

Emotions were not your strong suit.

He could watch you tear down demon after demon for hours, but you'd never seem to crack in your stoic facade. You eyes were lifeless and damn near indifferent. Could he even call it a facade now if it was the face you'd kept since the day he met you?

Perhaps it was your unwavering focus on perfecting your swordsmanship that left little room for the complexities of the heart. Or maybe, just maybe, you were simply too good at hiding those thoughts and feelings. Whatever it was, it irritated the hell out of Sanemi.

You had been in each other's company for a little over a year now and had yet to engage in any real conversation. Let alone betray even a flicker of emotion towards him.

He could spar with you till you were worn to the bone, yet you barely said a word. He'd rather you complain even a little bit. It was as if you were an enigma wrapped in a riddle, baffling the very core of Sanemi's being. How could a person be so...cold. Yet so warm.

He could barely stand it.

Then it happened. One fateful, fucking day, that changed his whole perception of you and himself. Sanemi's eyes fell upon you, engaged in a conversation with Rengoku, his fellow flame Hashira.

He struggled to make sense of it. Impossible to explain it, really, but it was as if a sword pierced straight through his chest. Jealousy, a sensation he was scarcely familiar with, gnawed at his insides, stoking a surprising fire of resentment towards the two of you. And he working tirelessly, his mind running circles, to come up with the root behind this feeling.

It wasn't that you were just talking to the Flame Hashira, it was the slight smile you shared with him—a rarity you had never bestowed upon Sanemi himself.

Sanemi's little bird mind resorted to the only explanation it could comprehend: irritation. Irritation at your lack of dedication to her swordsmanship. That had to be it. The feeling must have been a byproduct of his strict training regime, a testament to his commitment to the Demon Slayer Corps.

And he working tirelessly to come up with the reasoning behind this feeling.

It wasn't that you were merely talking to the Flame Hashira, but the fact that you were slightly smiling at him. Frustrated and unable to understand his own reactions, Sanemi’s little bird mind resorted to the only rationale his mind could accept: irritation.

Irritation, he convinced himself, at your lack of dedication towards your swordsmanship.

That had to be it.

The feeling must have been a byproduct of his strict training regime, a testament to his commitment to the Demon Slayer Corps. He couldn't fathom anything else.

You just didn't take this seriously enough.

And shame on you to be slacking on your training, spending your limited time with someone else. You weren’t Rengoku’s Tsuguko—you were his. So why didn’t you act like it, huh?

But surely Rengoku was only stopping by for a minute. Just to drop something off, right? This nasty irritation would definitely go away soon.

Yet,

As the days passed, Sanemi found himself growing more and more vexed. Rengoku’s visits became almost a daily occurrence. It grated on him, seeing you constantly engaged in light conversation with the Flame Hashira, seemingly neglecting the rigorous training schedule he had laid out for you.

Did Rengoku have nothing better to do than to distract you? He was a damn Hashira, after all. Surely, he had more pressing responsibilities than to idle away his time chatting.

This constant interactions between you two wasn't just a thorn in his side. It was becoming an unbearable aggravation, challenging his patience and his command as your mentor. He had said anything yet, but he was so tempted.

It was as if a shadow settled over his estate, darkening his mood constantly. Initially, he hadn't minded the Flame Hashira, but now he couldn't stand him. He could go as far as to say he hated him.

Yet, he remained steadfast in his silence, unable to voice his concerns to you. After all, how could he begin to explain something he himself couldn't fathom?

But that didn’t stop him from expressing his unspoken words through his actions. Your training sessions grew more rigorous. Then again, they should have been intensifying already—how were you supposed to grow if he didn’t push you?

But now, his training took on a meaner edge, driven more by his swirling emotions than by the usual disciplined approach.

It only grew worse when he realized you might actually be growing attached to the Flame Hashira.

Your interactions, though always subtle and calm, began to reveal a depth of affection that bothered Sanemi deeply. You never openly showed preference or attachment, keeping your emotions concealed beneath a tranquil surface.

But, it started with small smiles, and now, you were inquiring about Rengoku’s brother and his garden. You seemed to know intimate details about the Flame Hashira, details that were trivial yet so fucking telling.

Did you really not see the issue with having Rengoku visit so often at his manor? To Sanemi, these were not mere friendly exchanges, rather, they were breaches in the exclusivity he felt over your mentorship and training.

The situation gnawed at him, the silent question burning in his mind: Why did Rengoku, of all people, need to be so involved in your life?Each encounter, each shared smile between you and the Flame Hashira, seemed like a small betrayal to Sanemi.

His frustration grew with each passing interaction. Why couldn't he be the one to elicit a reaction? You never smiled at him the way you did with Rengoku. You never engaged him in light conversation or inquired about his likes and dislikes. Why was it always Rengoku who managed to coax those rare glimpses of emotion from your otherwise impassive demeanor? Was it the Flame Hashira’s charismatic charm or perhaps something deeper, something more that drew you to him?

He was supposed to be your mentor, the one you looked up to and sought guidance from, yet here he was, feeling sidelined in his own estate. The complexity of these emotions was so unfamiliar to Sanemi, a man more accustomed to straightforward battles and clear enemies. How could he fight this unseen foe that seemed to be stealing away your attention and, possibly, your affection respect?

Lost in his own sea of turmoil, Sanemi wrestled with feelings that defied his comprehension. He had spent his life honing his instincts as a demon slayer, yet when it came to matters of the heart, he was as clueless as a beginner. It was a battle he never expected to face, and it threatened to consume him whole. Why were you causing him to feel this way?

why.

Why?

WHY?

WHY.

In the midst of your training sessions with him, Sanemi found himself studying you intently.

Your stoic facade remained as unyielding as ever, but he couldn’t shake the flutter in his stomach every time you fixed him with your gaze. His heart rate would pick up just that much more and he would have to look away. What were you thinking, staring at him like that?

His training as a Hashira had taught him how to mask his emotions—after all, a rapid heartbeat was normal in the heat of battle. But how long could he keep the flush from his face hidden? He desperately wanted to see a different expression on yours, something that broke through that serene exterior.

If you noticed his discomposure, you never mentioned it. It was as if you were oblivious to the turmoil you stirred within him, or perhaps, you were simply choosing to ignore it.

Sanemi found it increasingly difficult to find common ground, to find the right words that could foster a meaningful conversation between you. Each attempt felt more strained than the last, widening the chasm he felt in your interactions.

Driven by a mix of desperation and determination, he decided to shift his approach.

If words would not bridge the gap, maybe actions would speak the volume he needed. He began to observe you more closely, paying attention to the small details—the way you organized your training gear, the slight pause before executing a particular move, or your preferences for certain foods during breaks.

He quietly started to take care of smaller tasks for you, adjusting your gear before training, ensuring there were extra rations of your favorite snacks available, and subtly modifying training routines to include elements you showed interest in.

Each act was a silent plea for your recognition, a hope that these small gestures would catch your eye and perhaps elicit a response, any response, that might indicate you saw him as more than just your mentor.

After training sessions, Sanemi would discreetly place new hair accessories or small trinkets beside your belongings—items he had thoughtfully selected from the local shops. Each one was chosen not only for their aesthetic appeal but also for their subtle reflections of himself: a pristine white hair clip, or a patterned haori that mimicked his own.

Yet, nothing seemed to elicit much of a response from you other than a polite "thank you." Your calm acknowledgment, devoid of the warmth or interest he hoped for, was starting to drive him seriously mad. It felt like banging his head against a wall, trying to reach you, to see a flicker of something more beneath your composed exterior.

However, you did eat the snacks he brought you, and to his surprise—and his tinged ears—you wore the items he had picked out for you. Each day you adorned yourself with these, you became a walking symbol of him.

A constant reminder of who you shared most of your time with. Who you staying with.

He couldn't figure it out. Couldn't figure you out.

p.2

come home

[thedeluluverse]

Annyeong my darling @starfire21! Here is your request! Sorry it took longer than I quoted, hope it was worth the wait! Let me know of anyyyyy feedback ok? Enjoy :) <3333

Author’s Note: Big thanks to @starfire21 for this request as it beckons in a new era of not just BTS fics! I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to send me requests anytime 😊Also, I got a tad bit carried away so if it's too long, sorry! hehe

Summary: Being together for 2 years, there is no limit to how well you know each other. So why do you still try to hide?

Pairing:  softDom!Minho x subbyJYPstaffF!reader.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, coworker romance

Word Count: 3,861

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI.  swearing, angst in a couple parts, fingering (f. receiving), breast play, dirty talk, pet names, overstimulation, clit play, praise kink, neck kissing, guilt, crying, cockwarming, mom and dad issues, reader highkey hates her dad and wants to unalive him so there's talk of that too.

It's been 2 hours, and you are still reeling. Despite living in Korea for about 6 years at this point, your parents still manage to get under your skin. A notification pops up on your phone that your boyfriend, none other than Lee Minho of Stray Kids, has gone live. A small smile appears, knowing that he helps comfort you even through a screen and wondering if he can sense your need for his presence. Probably not, but it's a nice thought!

Once the live is through, you give a sigh of contentment, quickly replaced by the familiar sinking feeling that comes with the trauma you can't seem to shake. You are on the verge of sobbing when your phone screen lights up, showing that your boyfriend is trying to Facetime you. Taking a few deep breaths and smiling, you accept the call and are greeted by an "Annyeong jagiya! Did you see the live?". Nodding your head, you reply, "I did, and you look so handsome today, babe!".

Despite you doing your best to smile enough to not worry him, he can tell that the smile far from reaches your eyes. His tone changes to stern as his eyes bore into your soul; thank goodness there's a screen separating y'all! "Tell me." He demands; you try to laugh it off. "Tell you what? That I love you; you know I do, Min!". He isn't laughing, "Don't play this game with me, angel, I can tell something is wrong. Please, I'm here for you, always.".

At his sincere words and concern for your well-being, the dam is broken, and you start bawling, unable to communicate for about 3 minutes. He understands and doesn't bother you; he just looks at you pitifully, upset that he knows there is nothing he can do to help right now. Once your breathing has regulated, you say, "Okay, well, buckle up, my love, because today was a doozy…" he nods to show that he is ready and you are free to start whenever.

After a sip of water, you begin, "First off, my dad, who I haven't talked to in about 7 years, texted me out of the blue asking what I've been up to, and he misses me (bullshit, you mutter under your breath). So this fucker asks if we can meet up for lunch or something soon. I told him that I was not in the States anymore. He said that my mom was bragging about me and accidentally let it slip that I live in Korea now, so that's no issue since he has wanted to take a trip anyway. “

“I told him to stay out of my goddamn life since that is what he is best at, and he lost his chances to reconcile with me a decade ago. Then he dared to get angry with me and say he deserves to see me because ' he's my father.' I told him he was just a sperm donor and he had no right to me, especially since I changed my last name once I moved out. He didn't like that and said that I was just like my mom, a bitch, and that was it. Now most times, I don't like being compared to my mom, but in cases like these, it's a badge of honor, lol.”.

As you take a breath, Minho stares off from his phone for a moment to process all of that. Now, that situation would be intense to hear about for anyone. Still, it's an entirely different playing field for your fiercely protective boyfriend who knows about your trauma. "I'm gonna kill him." He states, still looking off into the distance.

You damn near spit out your water at the suddenness of this statement, then reply with, "I mean, go for it, have fun even, but make sure I'm there. I want to see his pathetic life leave his blank stare as I deal the final blow." His eyes widen, knowing that your talk of wanting to kill your dad was serious all these years; his only response is to nod, "Anything you want, Princess.".

Blushing at the pet name and feeling a bit better, having vented some of the day away, you say, "You are already fuming; I can just finish up the story later. It's okay. I will see you, la-" "You'll see me as soon as you are done telling me what happened today. Yes, I am pissed at your dad on multiple levels. Still, I care about you even more. So what else happened, honey?". You close your eyes, and with your voice slightly cracking, you say, "My mom. She happened. So she Facetimed me earlier, like 10 minutes after the ordeal with 'dad'.

  She just wanted to check up on me, but I was snippier than usual because I don't like surprises like that and wouldn't have agreed to call just then. I told her that she needs to not just randomly Facetime me because next time, depending on what kind of day I'm having, I may not be in the mood to pick up. She didn't like that at all and tried to play the guilt card of not seeing me in forever despite her knowing I’ve been super busy lately. I told her that wasn’t fair, and we texted enough for her to know that my life has been hectic, so she needs to not try to make me feel guilty for my success."

“So then,” you continue, “she happens to spot that the sink has dishes, trash needs to be taken out, etc., etc., and huffs. I ask what's wrong, and she proceeds to say that, well, despite success looks like you can't handle it all if you can't maintain a clean living space and that after this long, she thought that I would’ve figured out a routine that works for me by now.

  She even had the audacity to say, 'Ah yes, your work is soooo taxing being around gorgeous people all day, you poor thing.' That set me off; I told her that my job is taxing because I want to ensure I am doing my best, so they do not have to worry as much. I have had no energy to do anything when I come home lately besides shower, eat, and talk to Min for a little while before I pass out. The final straw was when she said, ', Oh, so you have time for your boyfriend but not for your mom; I see how it is.' And just ended the call."

  He stares into space again and says, "Wait…what the actual fuck??!! She knows you have abandonment issues and how your energy levels can be, and she dares to pull that…. I'm so sorry, love, for everything." You sniffle, trying to ward off more tears and answer, "It isn't your fault, though; none of this is, which is why I wasn't going to bother you with it or bring down your day. Especially after a live because I know you get a mixed bag of comments with those; I feel extra bad now. I'm sorry; I'm selfish and shouldn't have word-vomited on you. Oh fuck, am I like my dad? I'm really gonna run into traffic now," you half-joke.

"AISH. Y/N-AAAA!! I've told you that you never need to hide anything from me, okay? I am here for you. I would’ve hated it if you kept all of this to yourself until you deemed that I was ready to hear it. Lovingly shut the hell up about that 'like your dad/being selfish' shit. I could tell you weren't okay and asked you to share why. Yanno, I love you and know you have struggled mainly alone for too long."

" Your dad would've just started unloading about his day without even thinking to ask how I was before, so stop. No running into traffic jokes either, alright? You really wanna do that to me and the kids?". The corner of your mouth twitches into a slight smile as you say, ", Okay, you maybe have good points; I'm sorry. And I wouldn't do that to you and those fuzzy little cuties in a million years!"

He smirks, "Good, and stop saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, okay?"; you nod in response, granting you a flying kiss through the screen. "Do you have any plans today y/n?" "Nope MinMin, I'm free the rest of the day; why?" "You'll see, just be ready in 15 minutes, dress comfy. I'll see you soon; gonna hang up now, saranghae jagiya!" "Saranghae jagi, I'll see you soon!". The call ends, and you put on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie you had stolen from him on your third date paired with your trusty boots, and you are ready to go!

15 minutes later, your boyfriend is pulled into your driveway and leans against the car waiting for you, not wanting to rush you but letting you know he is there. The second you step past your door, he runs up to you and captures you in the most comforting hug that might've ever existed.

This causes you to cry more, and his only response is to softly rub your back, occasionally pecking your temple and forehead with kisses and soothingly whispering, "There there, y/n, I'm here. It's going to be okay, that's it. Let it out.". After about 9 minutes, he wipes away the tears for you, kisses their faint trails, and leads you hand in hand to his car. As he starts driving, you have no idea what he has planned, and frankly, it couldn't matter less; you are feeling better just being in his company.

Putting the car in park, he turns to you and asks, "You ready?" "for what?" you reply. He emerges from the vehicle and opens your door for you, holding your hand as you walk into the building, saying, "Just trust me.". As soon as you walk in, you are taken aback at how nice this place looks but are too entranced in the calming scents of rain and vanilla to put too much thought into it. He notices you just taking everything in and places a gentle hand on the small of your back to catch your attention, "Let's get this started, shall we? Don't worry, I pulled a few strings, and we have the place to ourselves.".

Returning to reality, you look at him with wide eyes, "Wait….did you rent out a whole ass spa just because my parents were jerks??? This is too much; I'll be okay, I swear!". He calmly places a finger over your lips, looking into your eyes. "Nothing is too much for my baby girl, you need to wind down anyway, and I just had an excuse to pull something like this off. Now… go enjoy my love."

You blush at the effort and care he put into this, all for you, and nod, walking to the back. First, you get the best massage of your life, not counting the ones that Min has given you; of course, once it is done, the masseuse leaves so that you can retie your robe and move on to the next room. Nearly falling asleep from how jelly-like your muscles feel, you don't notice that you aren't alone until you feel a hand gripping your ass cheek.

You bolt up and whip your head around only to find your cheeky partner showcasing the cat smirk that you so adore until he moves closer to you and bends down, placing soft kisses on your shoulders, neck, and all over your face until you are both giggling. "Now, on to the next room." He commands while taking hold of your neck with his strong, veiny hands that impress you more and more every day.

Helping you into the next room as you are still a bit wobbly, Min starts feeling like this was definitely a good idea since it has been ages since he has seen your features this relaxed. Once you sit in the massage chair, he plants a kiss on the top of your hand and then leaves you to enjoy phase 2. Phase 2 includes a full mani-pedi as well as a customized facial treatment due to him knowing that you have sensitive skin. He even asked the staff to provide extra cucumber slices to snack on if smelling them on your face kickstarted your craving.

Throughout the mani-pedi, you receive heavenly hand and foot massages, and you start to wonder if this is all a dream due to how perfect everything has been. As you wait a few moments for them to ensure the next room is ready, your sneaky boyfriend whispers into your ear, "Enjoying yourself pretty?" as your eyes are closed, leaning back in relaxation.

  Your eyes fly open, mainly from the realization that those 3 words created body-wide goosebumps. Hovering over you, he shakes his head and gently lowers your lids, "Keep relaxing, pet. Let master take care of you, yeah?". Biting your lip, you nod slightly while fighting a moan; at this green light, he starts a trail of kisses from your collarbone down to your sternum.

Your breathing becomes more uneven by the second as he takes one tit into his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue around your hardened bud and occasionally sucking on it as if his life depended on it. He can tell that you are needy from his actions and stops right before the staff returns to lead you into the next room. Not before he leaves little love bites all over your cleavage, though.

Phase 3 is a special treatment that he personally requested. Now, the spa staff is well aware of your heat sensitivity, and you were fine temperature-wise until Min's little sneaky stunts left you panting with flushed cheeks. Well, it seems he anticipated this because he arranged a cooling stone treatment for you in the next room. They spend about a half hour moving stones of all sizes all along your body and double as many times over your pressure points to ensure you don't get overheated.

In the end, you are instructed to lie face down once again as they leave an even pattern of chilling stones all down your back as well as on the nape of your neck. In the midst of cooling bliss, you feel a familiar set of lips kissing up your calves all the way to the back of your thighs. Goosebumps appear again, and you can feel the desire pooling in your stomach along with the increasing wetness between the lips of your pussy.

He barely has to apply pressure to your inner thighs for you to spread your legs for him even wider. Leaning over your back, he nibbles your earlobe and coyly says, "Damn baby, you really are my subby little kitten, aren't you? All it takes is a few kisses and teasing touches, and you are dripping onto this table for me. I'm not complaining; I've just come to taste my handiwork.".

  Before you can object for fear that you'll be walked in on, his tongue is deep in your throbbing cunt, licking broad stripes along your lips. Feeling you adjust slightly in an attempt to grind against his face, he firmly holds down your legs, saying, "C'mon, my needy little babydoll, you gotta stay still so daddy can take care of you. Unless you want them to see that their handiwork has shifted and be privy to your true nature." You groan as if to say, "That's not fair," but you aren't complaining after all…

You finish for the third time, not 5 minutes before the staff walks in with a robe, ready to remove the stones from your back, ignoring the smell of sex as they were paid to do. Sitting on the end of the table, waiting to see what will happen next, Minho saunters in and extends his hand towards you while slightly bowing. Furrowing your brows, you ask, "Um, my dear boyfriend, it's a little difficult for me to walk. Could you tell me where we are going?".

Ignoring your question, he states, "You feel a little chilly."; you huff and reply, "Well, thank you, great compass, that helped a ton. For your information, I am, actually. The stones set me back to neutral, but then, all of that release burned a lot of calories, and now I'm resetting." "I thought as much. Well, welcome to the last stage of Min's 'If I can't kill those who hurt you, I'm gonna try my hardest to kill your unhappiness and soothe your soul for eternity' tour!".

Trying to disguise the tears in your eyes from being seen, you tease, "Damn, that's a mouthful, love…" He just grins and cocks an eyebrow replying, "Yeah, well, so are you, and I'm not complaining."; this makes you blush and scan the area, hoping nobody heard him.

He leads you into a private hot tub/sauna room with the temperature of everything set just warm enough to help you feel normal but cool enough that you won't pass out. You don't waste any time changing into a bathing suit and letting your body succumb to the sensation of the jets and the melting effect that the water is having over every inch of you. Eyes closed and head back, you still have trouble believing all this is real. Ten minutes later, you feel the water rise higher on your body, and it isn't long before you know the culprit is your Min joining you.

Looking to the right of you, where he is sitting, you pull yourself over his lap and start kissing along his neck, all the way behind his ear, and finally over to his lips for a steamy makeout sesh that leaves you both breathless and has him asking, "Well Princess what was that for? I am certainly not mad about it, but I figured you'd be too relaxed to be this bold right now."

It's your turn to smirk as you rub your clothed core against his growing bulge, then whisper against his ear, "See, the thing is…I was relaxed, then you made me all needy, so you have to fix it now, mister." "Oh, do I?" he teases as he slips two fingers inside of your soaked cunt easily, which elicits a very loud “fuck Minho” from your lips. He curls his fingers inside of you, occasionally toying with your sensitive bud while kissing you passionately until you have cum all over his hand 5 times.

He lets you stay collapsed against him for a solid 10 minutes before saying, "Let's go, my adorable little raisin.". Pouting, you lift your head up, meeting his eyes and saying, "But baaabe, I feel too weak to dry off, get dressed, and go all the way to the car…” He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to the tip of your cute nose before explaining, “I planned for this situation as well my love, just trust me yeah?” he says touching his forehead to yours as you nod.

He gets out first, quickly drying off, pulling on a pair of boxers, and heading back to you. He lifts you bridal style with ease out of the hot tub and places you on possibly the best bed you have ever laid on. As he joins you underneath the covers, you curl up against him with your nose on his neck and his chin on top of your head; "Jagi, did you invent a cooling cloud for me to sleep on?" you ask, half out of consciousness.

He gives a deep chuckle in amusement at how tiny you are right now, places a kiss on top of your head, and traces his fingers up and down your spine as he answers, "I'm not thaaat powerful jagiya, but that was precious."

Pressing yourself closer to his chest in embarrassment while giggling, you retort playfully whiny, "Don't make fun of meee. Just tell me what magic is underneath us right now, and can we take it home?". He smiles ear to ear, just as smitten with you as the day he met you, and replies, "Well, I thought you might get overheated, so I asked if they could set up the extra room as a nap area with silk sheets for cooling reasons. Sadly, they didn't have any, but thankfully, they did have this other fabric called habotai. It is much like silk but a bit cheaper and slightly more cooling. If you like it this much,  we can send a set home with us."

Barely raising your head, just enough for him to see your eyes, you ask, "Wait, really??" with the wonderment of a child who just got told they can take home the toy they've been eyeing in the store for the past 20 minutes. Kissing your forehead, he nods and can feel fatigue overtake his body; right before he drifts into dreamland, though, your sweet voice permeates the air.

Pressing a palm against his firm chest to let him know you're awake, barely above a whisper, you say, "Um…I don't want to be greedy, but I have a question….if that's alright. I know you've done so much already." He glances down at you and cups your cheek with his palm, "What is it, my star?" you feel your cheeks flush as you ask, "Well, see, the thing is, I was thinking, or rather wondering if you could just…be inside of me? If that's silly, I get it, just, I dunno, I want to feel as close as I can to you. You're so healing you have no idea…".

Before you finish your sentence, he is gently filling you up with his cock and softly presses his lips against yours right as you finish speaking. "I doubt you could ever make a silly request or be greedy where I am concerned, sweetheart. You could want to hula hoop with Saturn's rings, and I'd find a way to grant your wish, my love." Giving a contented sigh, you nod, and you both drift off to the most peaceful sleep either of you have experienced in a long while.

  Even though you felt like absolute trash earlier today, here you are, feeling like the most valuable piece of treasure. All thanks to your fantastic boyfriend who sees you as a goddess and would move mountains if it meant you were at peace. The reason is, to him, you are the rarest gem that he had the fortune of stumbling across in life, and he spends every day trying to think of ways to show you just how special you are to him and in general.

After that day, you both vow to always let each other know what is going on so that neither of you faces hardships alone; from now to eternity, you will be each other’s soul soothers, and you couldn't feel more thankful to have this man by your side now and forever.

THE END

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“It’s safe.”

Her hand is wrapped around his, but not because she needs him anymore. She’s almost as tall as he is, now, and his reading glasses are folded at the neck of his shirt as a reminder that in some years, she’ll be the one helping him cross roads.

It’s just a consolation, her holding his hand, and Lux will take it. His fingers interlock with hers.

Penny’s pulling is sporadic, yanking this way and that as she spots new and interesting things. For the first time in years, he has to fight the urge to shush her as she points to a stand with a sign that reads Let’s Talk About Legislation! “See, oh see that one, Dad? That’s the one I have to get a badge from for extra credit. Come on, come on! Tristan’s volunteering at it, and he’s the one who’s on the volleyball team, remember?”

Wincing as her tugging puts a strain on his shoulder and awakens the ever-throbbing ache there, Lux nods. “I - yeah. Volleyball. Tristan. Nice kid.” Blood roars in his ears the closer they get to the stand, to the bored teenager on his phone and the young woman with pins across her volunteer shirt. They read, Vote NO on 4-Oh, and She/They/It, and Equal Pay with No Fine Print. Lux tries to smile, to let his pride show a little. There is an ironic witch’s hat, floppy and pointy, on the woman’s head. Her shoulders are relaxed, a tattoo of bird footprints sprinkled down her arm. There are no scars visible anywhere on her tanned skin.

Things are different, today. Penny is practically vibrating as she drags him right up to the petition laid within easy reach, a pen attached to it with twine. Muscles locked, Lux goes rigid as her hand leaves his so she can write… her first and last name, printed clearly, and her cell phone number, too. There is a box for her to write the county that she lives in, and the tip of her pen hovers over it before she glances his way.

Lux likes to think he’s playing it cool enough, but she looks serious all of a sudden and leaves that box blank. In his mind, their house goes from raided and burned to the ground, to safe again.

Her first and last name and phone number remaining on the paper feels like a bullseye painted on her cropped shirt, but the volunteers just smile and ask if she needs a badge for her class. Penny asks something about pronoun pins, but by then her father is turning to look down the street at the bustling crowd.

Fingers intertwine with his again, and only then does Lux realize his hands are trembling.

A helicopter passes overhead, just as she starts them walking again, and Lux tries to subtly get under the nearest awning. Penelope yips in surprise and annoyance as she is randomly yanked to the lemonade stand, gesturing to the window where a man expectantly waits for an order of blueberry lavender or raspberry love potion. “I know you don’t want magic-themed drinks, Dad, so…” She rolls her eyes. Lux doesn’t even notice, staring out at the crowd in search of something. “Dad. The helicopter? It’s just the news. It’s a festival, they’ll talk about it for like three minutes on TV because there’s lots of people. Do you really think they’re gonna do anything?”

He shakes his head. Only because Emory would be frustrated if Lux managed to make her afraid of these events. “No. I know you say they won’t. I know Papa says they won’t. But they used to, there were-”

“I know, I know I know oh my god I know. Sorry.” She reels in the attitude and turns her body so there’s enough room for a couple to squeeze past and order their drinks. “I know it was different when you were young.” An apologetic pat on his arm at his frown, upon being called old. “But come on. You don’t wanna be here super long which means I have to hurry to check everything out. You said we could see stuff first.”

He’s nodding again. His feet are moving, because she’s pulling on his hand. Lux is back in the sun, being brushed up against by strangers who couldn’t care less if they sense a vague air of magic around him.

Emory is on speed dial. The car is parked two blocks away. There are ways out. Even if it’s safe, he knows for sure there are ways out.

“Hey!” Someone yells, and in his panic - or worse than panic, blank-minded instinct - he slips his hand out of Penny’s and squeezes free of the crowd to get into the nearest shady spot. If someone was looking for him, or calling him out, this is safer, he can run from here, if he heads… oh, it was just a man calling to a friend. Trying to catch up with him, and then shoving him lightheartedly for almost getting lost in the crowd instead of keeping pace with their group.

A shaking hand comes up to rest on his chest. Blue eyes close against the warm air and Lux breathes, deep and hitching. Slowing into a calmer rhythm. His heart is pounding.

He won’t have a panic attack. He has good tools to prevent those, to unwind the fear before it can cluster up and suffocate him. It’s just that the next alley down is where he saw cops, once, and a scared warlock. Where he failed to say the right thing, in the window of a few startled seconds, and… a gunshot, taunts, a beating.

“...-ad? Dad!”

It was… the next alley down, right? Where he saw the kid, and… eyes scanning the alley with a few coffee cups strewn at the entrance and posters lazily slapped onto the walls, Lux shifts his weight uncomfortably. That pipe sticking out from the wall, rounded at the bottom, warning sign faded… that’s where he hid.

This was the alley. This was the one. He was curled up there, invisible by his own magic, trying not to be found. He can all but hear the rain again, pounding in condemnation against the pavement. Anders’ heavy limp, his frustrated voice as he called, searching for him.

“Lux Alexander fucking Fortier!”

The aging warlock blinks. His knee is wet from kneeling, he realizes, as he finds himself peering at the spot under the pipe. His daughter, sixteen and fuming, stands in the sunlight at the mouth of the alley. “Dad, sorry for cursing, but what the fuck? Get off the ground maybe?”

He stumbles to his feet and dusts the alley grime off with knobbly, scarred hands. It’s not his time, anymore, not the time to curl up on the ground and cry, afraid of being saved. “Sorry, Pen. I got…”

“Yeah, okay. Listen, there’s this music thing, you might like it. Hold my hand and don’t let go this time. I’m not a kid anymore so put on your nostalgia whatever and figure out this is, like, the last time I’m ever gonna let you hold my hand.”

Smiling somberly at that, the father nods and takes her hand in his. Out into the crowd they go, again, and it strikes Lux that there are two types of people, here. The more common type is kids under twenty-five, taking pictures of themselves and letting magic glow in their hands. It’s the crowd that has Lux feeling short of breath, has him watching the sky for that helicopter to return.

The other type is a handful of people who are avoiding the center of the street. A few are lingering near stalls, considering buying books or accessories. Most of them are sitting at tables by the cafes and bookstores along the sidewalk, watching. They are all older, wearing long sleeves or hoodies despite the sun beating down on the festival.

Not many would recognize this type of person, but Lux does, now that he’s looking for them. There are scars under those sleeves and jeans, he bets. Heads kept in the shade from eyes that feel strained by light, after the gas from raids. Ears under headphones and hoods. Sitting, not standing, just like Lux wishes he could be.

None of them have run. None of them are hiding, not more than they need to, to be able to show up. Lux chews on his bottom lip as he’s hauled over toward a stage with a dozen folding chairs in front of it, all of them empty.

There is a man on stage, twenty-something. Too young to sound so sad. His singing is soft, light, over the guitar strumming under his fingers.

Penny all but sits him down in the chair farthest off to the side. Lux leans forward, elbows to knees, and watches the boy play.

“Do you know him?” He asks as Penny drifts at his side, eyeing a group of kids her age.

“What? I don’t know every public figure personally, Dad. No. I just - I heard he does, like, in memoriam stuff. His older brother was, like. You know.” She gestures at nothing. “He’s not around anymore.”

“...Oh.” Nodding with a new understanding, he tries harder to listen to the lyrics. Up on that stage, the young man mostly has his eyes closed, like he is performing only for himself. The crowd’s chattering is drowning out the soft singing. No one else seems very interested in hearing someone sing about grief.

“Why did they have him come out, if no one’s… you know?” Lux asks his daughter, politely inaudible to anyone else.

Penny shrugs as she types something on her phone, and waves to a friend. “Um, people are listening. I think. I don’t know, it’s not my kind of thing.”

Surprised, he turns to find that some of the people around are listening to the music. They aren’t looking at the stage, but they are swaying a little, or nodding even though no one is speaking to them. Sitting at those tables over in the shade, those in their thirties and forties aren’t speaking to each other, which would be odd if they weren’t listening to a performance.

“You go meet up with your friends, Pen.” Lux sits back fully, settling into being witnessed watching the performance instead of trying to go hide in a less visible spot. “That’s what you came here for. I’m going to sit here a while.”

[enbyzombies2]

Someday I’m gonna make my own goddamn movie. / It’ll be a Technicolor extravaganza / full of faggots and lesbians and whores / and drug users and blacks and Hispanics / and AIDS patients and HIV positives and homeless people.

The discarded of the universe / who comprise every level of society’s junk heap.

They’ll glitter up there on the silver screen / wearing their rejection like a badge of honor / and in the final reel / they’ll turn their guns on Washington / and the doctors / and the lawyers / and all the other bullshit shovelers / whose laziness and money grubbing / have perpetuated this disaster.

The complacent, flawless, perfect ones / will go down in a hail of gunfire / and all those who have been abused and thrown away / will rise up as one / and live happily ever after / if only for one more minute.

Amen.

—Face Value, by Karl Michalak

[soulonfirewriter]

Ghosts of Our Past, Pt. 1 - Chapter 2

~~ Chapter 1

I’m wiping down an empty table at the diner the next morning when in walks a customer, beelining for me.

“Are you Caroline Jacobs?

I freeze. “Yeah…?”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

My arm is sprawled out across the table, scrubbing it clean with a rag, so I twist my body upward to see who has spoken. Before me stands a sharply tailored suit and a blue tie. A badge reading Peter Johnson, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

And familiar hazel eyes. The guy from the library. He lied to me.

“You’re FBI?” I choke out. He gets a bit sheepish.

“Well, I’m not exactly a journalist…”

I furrow my brow, removing my rag from the table and standing up straighter. “Then what exactly is this about? Were you spying on me yesterday?”

“No, what happened yesterday was completely coincidental. I’m here to investigate a house down the street from here, and I’m told you used to live there.”

My heart sinks, and it’s like there’s now a cold draught in the building. I swallow thickly. “What… what do you mean? What house?” But I already know exactly what this has to be about.

“702 Forest Hills Drive.”

When he speaks the address, it’s as if the world begins to swim around me.

He knows.

The man, Peter, can clearly tell this is bothering me, so he reaches out for my shoulder, trying to comfort me, but I shift away from him.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t… I have to get back to work.”

 He grabs my shoulder firmly, though, forcing steady eye contact with me. “It’s okay. Meet me on one of the benches outside, after your shift, okay? I just need some information about the accident. I’m here investigating a recent murder in connection with that address, and your perspective can really help me.”

I pause, taking a moment to let this sink in. A murder? I haven’t lived there in years. I can’t think of how this would have anything to do with me. But there’s something off about this man. Something very non-FBI about him. It’s the way he holds my gaze with emotion in his eyes. I can tell this is serious. Maybe if I cooperate, I can put all of this behind me, once and for all.

“Okay,” I say, breathing out slowly. “Okay. I get off at eleven and I have a break before I go to the library.”

“Perfect.”

And just like that, Peter disappears out of the diner doors. I’m left to finish my shift, mind reeling, spiraling with worry…

This isn’t supposed to happen. The accident was never supposed to be brought up to me again. I am supposed to be able to move on. But now, the skeletons in my closet are crawling back out… and if I allow myself to think too hard about it, it feels like I’m suffocating.

Fortunately, there’s a few hours where I can push all that aside and focus on the busyness of work, taking orders and serving food. I rush around, not giving myself enough time to dwell on anything. But it’s in the back of my mind all day.

When it hits eleven o’clock, I push open the door of the diner and am immediately met by the man sitting at one of the outdoor tables right outside the building. He’s wearing sunglasses, and carefully removes them when he spots me.

I approach the seat across from him with trepidation, taking off my work apron and folding it into my lap. It’s intimidating, sitting down with a man who’s going to interrogate me about my past, dressed like one of those FBI agents from TV.

His expression is apologetic. “I know this seems formal, but this isn’t an investigation about you. You’ve already been cleared, so you don’t have to worry. I’m just here to get as much information about the house as I can.”

I blink at Peter. “What does the house have to do with anything?”

He hesitates. “A few days ago, a man was found inside the house. Dead. It appears he’d been stabbed to death by an unidentified weapon.”

“Like… by something that’s not a knife?”

Peter shakes his head. “The wounds aren’t as clean as a knife would make.”

“And you’re coming to me to find out what I know about the house, which is nothing. I haven’t lived there for eight years. I have no way of knowing who could have killed that man. As far as I knew that house has been abandoned this whole time.”

The man across from me appears to be collecting his next thoughts. “Then I guess I’m asking what you know about the accident that happened on April twenty-fourth, nineteen-ninety-seven.”

My jaw drops a bit, and I grow extremely uneasy. “Are you suggesting that the two murders are connected?”

Peter gives a slight shrug. “Just covering all my bases.”

My heart rate picks up. “Listen, I’m going to tell you all I know, okay? April twenty-fourth, I was asleep in my bed. Just a normal thirteen-year-old kid. I heard my mother screaming, and I ran out to the living room. I found her… I found her stabbed to death. No culprit around. That’s all I know.”

The air between us grows thick at the mention of my mom’s death. I’m breathing more heavily than before. The topic is starting to trigger me. I look Peter straight in the eyes and ask,

“Are we done here?”

It’s more of me begging to leave than really being finished with this conversation.

“Not exactly,” he begins. He’s clearly wary of how uneasy I seem. “Look, I just wanna know what you saw that night. Are you saying you didn’t see anything unusual, like a figure? Or smell anything strange, or get a weird feeling, like… a cold spot, or something? I just have to ask.”

I blink at him a few more times, feeling both disbelieving and nervous because of his question.

“So, are you here to make fun of me, or something?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re suggesting that what, a ghost could have killed my mom? That’s ridiculous.”

“You tell me.”

He knows.

“Who exactly did you talk to about this? Huh? Who gave you my information?” I demand.

Peter pauses, reluctant to respond. “After I heard the news about the murder, I visited the county clerk’s office to get the property information. You know, its owner history. Then I researched your mom and talked to the police about her death. They pointed me in your direction.”

“And told you I’m crazy, right?” I ask grimly.

“Why would they say that?”

I roll my eyes, sighing in exasperation. I have to act angry to keep from crying, and luckily, there’s enough underlying rage inside me that it just starts pouring out.

“Local thirteen-year-old girl claims to see a figure stab her mother to death with a fire poker, insisting that a ghost killed her and then disappeared into thin air,” I say, with a voice dripping in sarcasm. “Big news headline, right? They had to cart me off to the psych ward once it was ruled that I couldn’t have killed my own mother. And then, after months of therapy, it was straight to foster care because my dad left me as a baby and then died years later. I had no one to back me up. I went through foster homes, therapy, the works. And the last thing I need at the end of all this is for a man in a suit to come dig up my past and once again make me look stupid. I know the truth now. I was a traumatized little girl who made up a story because she couldn’t process that her mom had been randomly murdered. Okay?”

I stand abruptly from the table, in a huff, deciding to remove myself from the situation before any more harm can be done, to the case or to my mental stability.

And, more than anything, it’s to keep from completely breaking down in front of this stranger.

But Peter speaks up as I turn around to go.

“What if I said I believed you?”

I stop dead in my tracks. I don’t even turn back to face him.

“What?” But I don’t let myself fall for it. “No. If you said that, I’d tell you you’re delusional. You’re just trying to get me to admit something, but I was just a kid. I didn’t see anything that night.”

I’m repeating back to him the exact words I’ve heard my whole life.

“I’d beg to differ,” he says. “I think you were right this whole time. You just needed someone to come along, who knows the truth. You didn’t make up a story to explain away the truth. You know what happened.”

No matter how much I try to ignore it, his words are cutting through all the walls I have put up. No one has ever told me they believed me about this. What makes him any different?

Peter stands from the table as well and approaches me, until he is right behind me, leaning down to say quietly in my ear,

“My name’s not Peter Johnson. And I’m not FBI.”

My heart starts to race again. I still can’t bring myself to look back at him. So apparently, he’s not a journalist, or a federal agent.

“I knew you were lying to me,” I hiss. “Who are you, then?”

I start to spiral. What if he’s undercover? What if he’s from the psych ward, and he’s come to trick me into admitting that I’m crazy, and he’s going to ship me back there?

I need to get out of here.

I can feel his smirk radiating from behind me, and before I can move, he speaks.

“My name is Sam Winchester. And I hunt the supernatural.”

~~ Chapter 3

[v8nom]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE @westhyo!!!! wrote a little something to celebrate :) i hope today is (or has been going lmao sorry this is a bit late in the day) very cool!

--

“Chaeyoung-ah,” calls a deceptively bratty voice from across the room. It’s deceptive because it sounds like a whine, like she’s begging for something, but Nayeon always gets what she wants, and always expects to get what she wants; it’s not a request, it’s a command. Chaeyoung doesn’t look up.

“Chaeyoung,” Nayeon snaps it this time, and Chaeyoung almost jumps. She doesn’t. Instead, she puts a show of sighing, pressing the off button on her phone, and dragging her eyes over to Nayeon. Two can play this game.

She lets it seem like Nayeon interrupted her, like she doesn’t feel something clenching under her heavy gaze. Nayeon only interrupted her doom-scroll through Instagram reels, of all things, and that is certainly not as important as Nayeon, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah?”

When Chaeyoung’s eyes reach Nayeon’s face, her features are suddenly so kind - if Chaeyoung didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was someone else who called her name in such a harsh way. “Come here?”

Chaeyoung blinks once, twice, sitting in a long pause, doing her best to draw it out. Nayeon doesn’t seem unnerved in the slightest. Tip: never get in a staring contest with Nayeon, she frankly doesn’t give a fuck and therefore will win. 

Chaeyoung switches gears. She pouts, jutting her lower lip out and tapping her fingers on her phone. “I was busy,” she’s whining, she knows, but Nayeon is so demanding sometimes, why doesn’t she come to Chaeyoung? “You can come here.”

Nayeon’s facial features twist, morphing into a picture-perfect bratty pout, putting Chaeyoung’s to shame. Chaeyoung always finds it fascinating how the older woman can do that with her face: she can expertly craft any expression she needs at a certain time. From an outside point of view, it seems manipulative, but Chaeyoung knows it isn’t. Chaeyoung knows it’s part of her - Nayeon likes attention, Nayeon is needy, Nayeon likes to be taken care of, Nayeon is a very famous idol, and this skill helps with all of those. Chaeyoung, especially in times like these, finds it fun.

“No.” A soft sigh follows, like Nayeon is truly saddened by Chaeyoung’s rejection. “You come here.”

And by the way Chaeyoung’s legs instantly work to stand, she knows she’s fucked. 

Nayeon’s face - once again - changes, now a picture of glee. Her knees bounce, - that, Chaeyoung knows, isn’t fake, though, none of Nayeon’s expressions are faked, per se, more like she enhances the emotion she already feels, and now she feels happy - her hands pat her lap. “Sit,” she urges, “sit.”

Chaeyoung squints as she, predictably, follows the command. She knows Nayeon is up to something, though as her knees land on the cushion to the outside of Nayeon’s thighs, she can’t figure out what. It’s a tight squeeze for her legs beside the arms of the chair - it’s really only meant for one person - but Nayeon doesn’t seem to mind.

The closeness only serves to amplify the twisting in her belly. Nayeon’s eyes sparkle and her bunny smile is bright on her face and Chaeyoung falls in love all over again. “What?” There’s that scheming quirk to a muscle in Nayeon’s cheek, as if she’s trying to hide a certain, different, type of smile. Chaeyoung can barely breathe out her words, caught in Nayeon’s gaze. “Why did you want me?”

“I always want you!” It’s corny, it’s stupid, but Chaeyoung’s heart glows anyway.

“Okay, but,” Chaeyoung knows Nayeon meant it, but she’s straddling a pretty girl in the middle of her living room, and she’d like to know why. “Actually.” Not that she needs a reason.

The roguish grin can’t be hidden anymore; it stretches across Nayeon’s lips like a badge of victory, though Chaeyoung doesn’t think anything has happened yet. “You were so cute over there, biting your lips, playing with your hair.” Chaeyoung doesn’t think she had been doing all that, but she’ll take Nayeon’s word for it. “And-” Nayeon falters, gaze dropping for a split second. Nayeon being hesitant is strange, Chaeyoung’s ears prick up “-I want to try something.”

Confusion hits her first. Chaeyoung wants to ask what. They’re a pretty adventurous couple, so she’s flipping through the catalogue of possibilities, struggling to pick out something they haven’t tried, when it hits her. Well, when Nayeon’s hand finds a new home on her neck. A soft palm presses against her throat, thumb and fingers wrapping around the sides.

Chaeyoung gulps, noting how she feels her throat bob against Nayeon’s hand, and also noting how the slight heat in her core has suddenly become a raging flame. Her breaths come uneven, her voice sounds strained. “Yeah?”

“Choking,” Nayeon confirms.

Chaeyoung tries to hum in agreement, pretty clear by the hand around my neck, but a strangled whine comes out instead. Fuck. Sharp eyes flash and the corner of Nayeon’s lips quirk up.

“What do you think?” Nayeon peers at her curiously, no doubt reading Chaeyoung perfectly. Her index finger strokes lightly where it rests on soft skin, back and forth, driving Chaeyoung insane; it’s all she can feel.

Chaeyoung clears her throat, clinging to whatever shreds of dignity she has left. “I--” She’s a mess already, this is so humiliating “--yes. I want to.” If she’s being honest, the second thought she had when laying eyes on Nayeon’s hands all those years ago was about choking. (The first was damn, she has long fingers, and the third was I wonder if she can hold a basketball in one hand - she can, which is a trait Chaeyoung finds unreasonably attractive). So she’s been thinking about Nayeon’s hands for some time now, and it’s all finally come to a head.

Chaeyoung works her jaw, trying to figure out what to say. She doesn’t know how to tell Nayeon how much she needs this.

A hand on hers and a firm set to Nayeon’s eyes stop her in her tracks. Nayeon maneuvers Chaeyoung so her fingers wrap around the wrist she has at the younger woman’s neck. “Squeeze or tap three times to stop, okay?”

Chaeyoung trusts Nayeon with everything, including her life, but she appreciates the caution. “Okay.”

“Ready?” And just like that, they’re back to normal. The playful, devilish look has returned in full force to Nayeon’s eyes. Chaeyoung nods. Ready.

She’s a bit nervous, trembling in a mix of expectation and need as Nayeon eyes her neck with clear hunger. Chaeyoung takes a deep, shuddered breath, and a moment later the fingers press on the sides of her throat. Her airway isn’t completely cut off, as her exhale comes out wheezed, weak, but the bolt that shoots down her spine is superhuman.

Chaeyoung tries to inhale again, lungs going to inflate - expecting it - but Nayeon’s grip tightens, completely cutting off her airway and the blood supply to her brain. Fuck. A rise of panic, quickly tamped down by the clenching of her cunt and firey look in Nayeon’s eyes. Fuck, this is hot. She doesn’t know how long Nayeon is going to hold her out like this, preventing her from doing the very thing she needs to live. The complete lack of control is thrilling. Chaeyoung’s vision blurs but she has never felt more alive.

Nayeon relaxes her grip when her eyelids flutter, allowing air to flood her lungs and blood to continue to her brain. The first thing Chaeyoung does with that air is moan, long and low.

Nayeon giggles. “Yeah?”

A deep inhale, a dopey smile. Happy chemicals are in full-swing in her brain. “Yeah.”

She has also never felt more turned on. Something about coming down from that small high, head heavy and body thrumming, makes her awareness of the pulsing heat in her underwear stronger.

Chaeyoung’s hips buck into nothing and she can’t stand the ache in her core anymore. She needs to be touched. “Please,” she barely breathes, eyelids fluttering as she hangs onto Nayeon for dear life, “touch me.”

Tip: be direct and specific when asking Nayeon for things, because she’s an insufferable tease who will giggle and poke at the request until she’s forced to fill it. Chaeyoung is neither of those, but she thinks Nayeon can tell her brain is full enough, because the older woman nods, patting Chaeyoung’s thigh with her free hand. 

Not a moment later, a long finger slides between Chaeyoung’s folds, no hesitation or warning. Chaeyoung goes to cry out, sucks in a breath as her lips part to produce something downright unholy, but the tightening of Nayeon’s fingers cuts it off before it begins. She reels. The pressure on her neck is delicious, and combined with the sensations below, Chaeyoung knows she won’t last long.

The pressure loosens, Chaeyoung gasping for air past the fingers still wrapped around her neck. Both of her hands are now grasping at Nayeon’s forearm - that limb being the closest stable thing she has to hang onto. She has barely recovered, head still euphorically hazy, when a finger pushes into Chaeyoung’s heat.

This time she’s allowed to make a sound, jaw dropping as a keening moan spills from her lips, spine curving at the welcome intrusion. “Nayeon.” Nayeon’s thumb rubs a different pattern on her clit, Chaeyoung’s mind almost split apart.

“I’ve got you,” is the murmured response. Nayeon is being exceptionally kind to her this time, something that Chaeyoung is grateful for. Her whirling mind has enough to deal with, she doesn’t need any added challenges Nayeon might throw her way.

It ultimately works in her favour, because Chaeyoung doesn’t think she’s ever gotten this close this fast, and under any other circumstances, she’d have to work a lot harder for her release. 

A second finger joins the first as Nayeon’s grip once again provides pressure to the sides of her neck. It’s strange - her chest doesn’t heave with fast breaths like it normally does, but her hips rock in a frantic rhythm that matches Nayeon’s hand all the same. It’s unrelenting, firm but not harsh, which compliments the hold Nayeon has on her throat. 

Chaeyoung has never felt like this before. It’s exhilarating, it’s freeing and hot and intense. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to go through life without feeling it again.

Her eyes flicker open, unable to tell Nayeon how close she is, but wanting to convey the sentiment anyway. The sight is almost enough to push her over the edge. How Nayeon, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, gazes at Chaeyoung as if she’s more beautiful than any dazzling sunset the sky can paint for them Chaeyoung would moan if she could.

“Come for me.”

Chaeyoung crests the wave with a soundless cry, hips bucking wildly into Nayeon’s hand and jaw working with empty breaths. Then immediately after, Nayeon’s grip loosens, and air rushes into her lungs. The combined sensations burst fireworks behind Chaeyoung’s eyes, entire body wracking with intense pleasure. She tilts forward, slumping against Nayeon, now able to unintelligibly moan as she rides it out. She doesn’t think she’s come this hard before.

Through a spinning mind and a weakly pulsing body, Chaeyoung eventually slows to a stop, breathing into the crook of Nayeon’s neck. She’s entirely mush by the time she takes status of her limbs - what normally takes at least three orgasms has been completed in one. Impressive. She sighs, immensely content in where she is, hands slowly slipping around Nayeon’s waist to hold her properly.

Eventually Chaeyoung grunts, a simple but effective communication to the woman under her.

“Good?” Nayeon’s hand rubs slow circles on her back. Tip: one way to turn Nayeon into one of the softest, most outwardly caring people Chaeyoung has ever met is to have a mind-blowing earth-shattering orgasm on top of her.

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung sighs. Beyond good, but her mind can’t string together a coherent sentence right now. “Good.”

Nayeon hums in response. Chaeyoung’s eyes stay closed, resting, her core weakly stirring at the phantom feeling of Nayeon’s hand around her neck. They’re going to have to do this again.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part twenty four)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 1,105

Warnings: Conductor's repressed trauma about his wife's death

Author's notes: I feel bad for putting Conductor through this. But it had to happen. But I also bring more of Conductor's theatre club so maybe you guys can forgive me for doing this to him? Plus, you get to see more of his love with his wife when they were younger. That's good, right?

Conductor bolted the door shut to his room on the Owl Express before running over to his bed.

He crouched down, pulling out his projector and screen from under the bed, taking a few minutes to set them up before slotting the tape in.

"Conductor! Where are you?" Badge asked loudly, the camera shaking where the cat was running down a hall with it in hand.

"We're in here!" Emily shouted.

Badge turned off into a room where the other three of them were.

Emily stared intensely at her laptop before turning back to the sewing in her lap.

A younger Conductor flipped through a script under a tent made of a few chairs and a blanket.

And there, beside him, was Scarlett, scanning the script along with him.

Conductor drew a shaky breath, pausing the tape reel.

The phone in the room buzzed and he reluctantly answered it.

"Yes?"

"It's Empress. Grooves says you're hiding somewhere on the train."

Conductor put the phone back on its stand, sitting back down and playing the tape further.

"I'm so excited to do Phantom this year!" Badge said, sitting down to make a triangle between the four of them.

The camera subtly tilted over to Conductor and Scarlett.

Scarlett brushed a wing through the feathers at the side of Conductor's face and he leaned into the touch.

"You two will be great as Phantom and Christine," Emily added. Conductor jumped, feathers ruffling as he pulled away from Scarlett's touch.

"Peck off," Conductor grouched.

The camera swung to look at Emily.

The cat had a needle sticking out the side of her mouth, staring scrutinously at her stitching.

"Why did I ever let you convince me to make you a coat?" Emily questioned, slightly muffled around the needle. "You better wear this all the time."

"He will. He always freezes," Scarlett teased, the camera moving back to face her and Conductor.

"Shut up," Conductor chuckled, burying his face in her neck.

Conductor sniffed as he paused it, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

He gripped tightly to his dark coat, pulling it tighter around himself as he shivered.

They'd been right.

He wore it all the time because he was cold.

He hit play again.

Conductor was holding the camera this time.

The shot was much steadier than the previous ones as Scarlett sang, dancing around a practice room.

Emily and Badge walked up on her sides.

"One week later, I'm writing a letter nightly, now my life gets better every letter that you write me," Scarlett sang, her years of playing Eliza evident. "Laughing at my sister because she wants to form a harem."

"I'm just saying, if you really loved me you would share him," Emily purred.

"Ha!" Badge and Scarlett exclaimed.

The camera shifted as it was put down on a table and Conductor crossed the room to stand parallel to the bench his friends then sat down at.

"Two weeks later, in the living room stressin'. My father, stone faced, as you're asking for his blessing. I'm dying inside as you wine and dine, and I'm trying not to cry cause there's nothing that I can do," Scarlett continued to sing.

"My father makes his way across the room to you. I panic for a second thinking we're through. Then he shakes your hand and says be true. And you turn back to me, smiling - I'm helpless!"

Conductor strode across the room, looping his arms around Scarlett's waist.

She laughed as he picked her up and spun her, the two of them forgetting about their practice.

"Lovebirds, you're never gonna get this year's show done if you keep interrupting practice," Emily complained, hitting pause on the music track they had playing.

"I know the entire thing back to back. Yer just upset I got recast as Alexander again," Conductor argued, setting Scarlett back down. "And Scarlett has only ever played Eliza, she's got this. If anythin', she's the best of anyone here."

"Doesn't mean you can slack off and be romantic. Badge has never played Peggy before," Emily growled.

"Badge remembers the script too. And even if they didn't, then I'm sure that one of those badges might help them out," Conductor spat.

"That's when it went downhill," Conductor whispered, pausing the video again.

The Express let out a whine as the wood of the floor creaked.

"Is that why you hate Hamilton?" The phone buzzed with static as the train spoke.

"It might be," Conductor breathed.

"You loved it before Emily died."

"I did, didn't I?"

He hit play again.

The camera sat on a table while Conductor grinned giddily at Badge.

"Guess what?" Conductor asked.

"What?" Badge asked, always curious about things that went on.

"She said yes!" Conductor exclaimed.

Badge shrieked delightedly, flinging themself at him.

"Finally! Peck, I've waited so long!" Badge squealed, clinging to the owl.

"Will you be the best man?"

"Of course!"

He paused.

"I didn't even know it was filmin' then."

"Badge loved to record things," The Express reminded.

Conductor looked up as someone knocked on the door to his room.

"Go away!" Conductor shouted.

"Please can I come in?" Grooves asked quietly.

"No!" He looked over at the phone on the wall. "Don't you dare."

The door clicked as it unlocked and Grooves opened it.

"Fine, I'll buy cheap coal for the next month," Conductor told the train.

Grooves sat down on the floor with Conductor, pulling the owl into a hug.

"Can you explain it?" Grooves asked softly, resting his head atop Conductor's.

"I don't want to."

"That's fine. I'll wait until you're ready."

"I miss her."

"I know."

"She was so talented. I got her to star in a couple of my movies before she- before she-"

"You don't have to say it," Grooves said, hugging Conductor closer to him.

"Scarlett was such a talented owl. The best actress I've ever met," Conductor started. "She was so kind when I first met her. I was scared of makin' friends back then. But she helped me. And it took a few years but I fell for her. And a few years later we were together."

"It was stupid of me to think it'd last. She'd been sick for years. We knew it was coming. But Roxie was so young and I didn't know what to do," Conductor continued.

"I sent her to boarding school and focused on my movies. It's my fault we're not close. I've tried to make it up but I can't. I can't."

Grooves hugged him tighter as Conductor repeated it.

"I can't."

[spybrarian]

Never Not Commenting November Novice: I left AO3 comments on 5 fics!

(these badges are part of the @tanthamoretober Never Not Commenting November challenge! Want to take part? You can find details here.)

Here's tonight's reading! Check the tags and ratings yourself, of course, but I had a lot of fun with these guys:

Make Me A Saddle, by Silver85 Werewolf Kit and Lumberjack Jade! I love the way @wigster07 told this story through installments, non-chronologically. It was a really cool way to dip in and out of their lives, putting it all together bit by bit. This one hit a combo of the prompts lingerie + leather so... you know it's gonna be good.

The Laughing Whale p1 by Geek_and_Nina A wee drabble (double length) of pirate Kit and siren Jade! Made me laugh, and contained a very neat description involving butter.

under the sea and also darling it's better by Geek_and_Nina Part two and three! A cute world Nina's building here, and super short so it's a really quick dip. Cool curse ideas, hints at tension, loads of fun! Also fangs.

The Sadist/The Masochist by Acre_of_wheat Not technically part of @tanthamoretober's collection, but Never Not Commenting November is more about comments than rules ;) This fic is part of the Kinkverse that has my heart and the depths of Kit and Jade's love for each other is just, so deep, and I love the way @acre-of-wheat can describe the most intense emotions or on point character observations in just a sentence or two and send me reeling.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

So how about that last chapter, huh? Still reeling?

WELL, HERE'S A PREVIEW OF THE NEXT ONE, which is proceeding well on schedule to be dropped next Friday.

In this scene, the Nein return to Vasselheim to seek out information about their enemies and enlist some old allies. In case you haven't realized that this arc serves as a bookend to the very first arc yet.

-

Months had gone by since the Nein first walked through the grid of houses set against the backdrop of the Vesper Timberlands. There was no Cobalt Soul monk or supervised criminal to guide them this time, but the only thing that had changed was the season and Caleb remembered the way to the house with the dragon skull in the front yard.

Beau, recalling how hard it had been for the man's own daughter to get him to answer the door, started out big and loud with her knocks, but the person who answered after only three was not the cleric, but a red-skinned tiefling woman with dark horns that curved back from her forehead like a crown and silver eyes, dressed in a black silk robe.

It revealed one fundamental fact to Caleb- Tasya Hydris looked like her mother.

”It's awfully late for knocking like that,“ she drawled.

Bright and early in Bazzoxan translated to 'too late for visitors' in Vasselheim, but the Nein had been so determined that no one had thought to consider the time difference. Caleb was aware of it- of course- but it hadn't seemed important and remained that way even now.

”We're sorry to disturb you, but my friend here is a co-worker of your daughter- of sorts- and-“

The woman looked at Beau's garb that did everything in its power to say 'I am not a member of the Cobalt Soul' with a raised eyebrow that cut Caleb off at the pass, and Beau quickly produced her Expositor's badge from a secret pocket inside of her coat. ”Your, um… Husband? Did us a favor. We need to talk to him again.“

Her eyes lit up. ”Oh! You're the ones with the horrible flesh city.“

”So much for knowing us by our cool titles,” Veth sighed, drearily. “We're the flesh city people.”

“Come in. I'll get Kash up. He's going to be grumpy, but I have to admit we both found the entire thing worrying with how little the Soul seems to know about any of this.“ She stepped out of the doorway and continued speaking over her shoulder. ”The Vault prides itself in keeping as many records from Pre-Calamity as possible, but there's next to nothing on this Cognouza.“

”I'll have a full report to file for them, eventually,“ Beau said, puffing herself up, only to immediately deflate again, as if it was too cruel of her to take pride in a potential victory so minuscule while Molly and Yasha were suffering.

They made themselves at home in the overwhelmingly kitschy and cluttered living room again while the lady of the house- who introduced herself as Zahra- busied herself with the unpleasant task of rousing her husband. Moments later, the man in question, hair unbound, mismatched eyes lined in dark circles, and holding a mug of coffee was glowering at them from the doorway.

”I was hoping I'd never have to see you again.“ He looked to Zahra. ”You can't do things like this. It’s like feeding strays- they'll just keep coming around. Haven't you learned anything from Allura and Kima?”

“I've learned that Allura and sometimes Kima like helping the younger generation, darling.” Zahra flicked some of his hair out of his face with a long, well-manicured talon. “But if they didn't come here themselves, I was considering having Tasya get in contact with them, so this is kismet. It saves you being grumpy at me.”

Kash made a gruff noise and then kicked Veth out of what was most definitely his chair so he could sit down. Fjord didn't even wait for him to get comfortable before voicing a concern all of them were nursing.

”Sorry. You said that this has been troubling you since we left you? Badly enough you almost called us back?“

Lucien leaned forward, scanning every bit of visible skin on Kash's body- searching for eyes supplied a helpful little voice in the back of Caleb's mind. He must not have found any, judging by how he leaned back in disinterest almost immediately after.

An urge tapped Caleb on the shoulder and the copper pieces in his pockets felt as if they were made of lead, begging to be acknowledged. You know what you could do.

Detect Thoughts had been written into the grimoire infinitus when it awakened at his touch. He’d stared at that spell for so long, aching to use it and knowing what a slippery slope it was. It was Trent’s favorite spell, one used with impunity to the point of it being one of his signatures. Despite knowing how much easier it would have made his life, he never took the opportunity to learn it and now it was easily accessed, burned into his brain from the moment he read it. Keen minds have their disadvantages.

He saw Jester shift and watched her twist her ring enchanted with that same spell, free of baggage and any desires beyond curiosity, and relaxed a bit at having the desire taken out of his hands for the time being.

”Sometimes you look into something you shouldn't've seen and it looks back, it stays with you. Z and I are well-versed in that kind of shit. I've dreamt of that place every other night since I saw it.“ As Kash spoke, Caleb looked to Jester to gauge her reaction and found her only staring at the man with a look of deepest sorrow.

”Did anyone speak to you?“ Cree asked, unaware of what Jester was doing or in what way Caleb was taking cues from her.

”Nope.” Kash popped the 'p' on the end and sipped at his coffee. “I'd just see it, floating there, and it would get worse every time I looked at it, like an infected wound that just keeps rotting.”

The image of Cognouza wreathed in black chains and bleeding ichor from Vokodo's dying moments flashed into Caleb's head. The collective tension of the entire group said he wasn't the only one so plagued. No spell needed for that one. “And what did you make of it?”

“A nuisance mostly. I nearly broke a vow and contacted someone to ask about it, but Z talked me out of it.”

“Someone?” Veth prodded. “Like who? Your god?”

Come to think of it, they never did figure out what god Kash worshiped. It was usually one of the first questions he, in particular, asked of a cleric out of a habit he’d never shaken.

Zahra smiled with too-sharp teeth, proving that inviting that question now would ruin her sense of hospitality. “We don't talk about her.“

So definitely his god, whatever she may be. Jester, Caduceus, and Cree exchanged looks- clearly stricken by the idea that a cleric could be completely out of contact with their deity like that. It would have been worth prodding at on any other day, but not this one. Not when they needed Kash's cooperation more than they needed to test how much Jester could annoy him and still make him like them enough to want to commit to their cause.

Besides Jester had more context thanks to her ring and that fact alone had her biting her tongue now to avoid blurting out secrets and ruining everything.

”I will be frank, then,“ Caleb said, voice stern, eager to derail Jester’s need for impulsive action with forward motion. “Two of our friends were taken by a cult whose primary ambition at this stage is to bring that city back to this plane. One of them is possessed by the beings who control that city. We have no idea what that means for him yet, but we do know what it means for Exandria.”

Lucien slid in and surprised Kash with everything from how he spoke to the way he leaned forwards down to the look in his eyes that said he did know better than anyone what he was talking about, rather than simply behaving like he did- everything that said he very much wasn’t Molly. “What you saw is a cancer that will consume everything until we are all nothing but minds in a hive controlled by the most mad wizards from an age of mad wizards.”

“And we know what all of this means for the Soul right this second,” Beau joined in before Kash could ask the obvious question- who the fuck is he, which no one had any time or desire to answer now even in simple terms. “To bring the city back, they need the threshold crests. Now I don't know what High Curator Kerthis did with the ones I gave her in the end, but the last memory Molly has of them is bringing them here and that cult is here now, probably looking for them.”

The implications didn't need to be spoken- their daughter and her entire organization was in immediate danger. In warning them of what could happen, they had given them the opportunity to do something about it before it became untenable as if in penance for their part in bringing it to their doorstep.

Kash wasn't grateful and clearly would have preferred to have been left out of it at all, but he had helped them once and by and large this was merely finishing off what had been started and left to hang. The look in his eyes said very clearly that 'no' wasn't on the table, but he was running through a dozen caveats before he agreed.

“What's your plan here?” He finally asked. “You want your buddies back first, yeah? Cool. How are you gonna do it?”

The silence spoke volumes. Kash handed his coffee to Zahra, perched on the armrest of his chair, so she could put it on the end table for him. The entire motion was so fluid and required neither of them to look away from them that it must have been a dance practiced many times in front of their children.

“I don't get involved in shit without a plan in place. You want our help? Do your godsdamned research, figure out how to approach these people, because what you're telling me without saying fuck-all is you got your shit rocked and now you want payback right now. That kind of thinking gets people killed.”

“We planned on stopping by the Vault too,” Beau grimaced, tightly. “We just wanted you two to be aware of the situation as it stands.“

”Consider us aware.“

Zahra laid a hand on her husband's knee in a gesture that soothed the ravages of his barely controlled temper. ”We do appreciate it and we want to help you, but we're not as young as we used to be and…“ She smiled warmly. ”We've seen what becomes of adventuring parties who don't think things through before they act. They might survive, but there is usually a cost.”

And we have already paid too much. Kashaw wasn't wrong even if it wasn't what the Nein wanted to hear. It would be unreasonable to assume a practical stranger would leap out of bed, determined to go and meet their enemies in the woods right this second just because he had helped them once.

If anything, he might have spared them all some grief by being logical, rather than a man of immediate, dramatic action.

“They keep weird hours at the Vault,” Kash said. ���Get to it. 'Cause even if we throw our hands into this mess, this is all on you. As of right now, you're the only fucking experts on something that could destroy Exandria and the only people equipped to deal with it because of that. You need to be sharp and you need to be ready.“

All facts they all knew full well, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still made Caleb wince. The gods themselves could not have made it plainer and they were certainly trying to.

This was their fight, no matter who they asked to back them up at the gates of Hell, and if they failed, there would be nothing left to grieve how foolish a decision it was to place all of this on a group of fuck-ups from Wildemount.

So we won't fail.

He looked to Beau who gave him a tight, pained nod, a reminder of their vow from last night. Whatever it takes.

Sometimes what it took had nothing to do with blood and rage and everything to do with patience and careful planning.

Sometimes you had to grit your teeth and wait.