#knowing how little scenes i get to see this man on ice

[oetravia]

Every Brainia Scene Ever: 5x15 [2/7]

[greenlikethesea]

@sparklyslug and I commissioned the incredible @mardyart to draw a pivotal scene from our fic, Three Weddings and a Funeral, a part in our currently sprawling universe Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden. For those who have read, you might recognize this as a scene from the third chapter, post [redacted] funeral, where Steve and Eddie have a conversation in the Byers-Hopper kitchen about what is deserved.

Thank you so much for this beautiful art, Mardy. We’re so unbelievably thrilled with the finished product, and we couldn’t be happier. You’re the best!

Referenced fic excerpt under the cut, for context!

 “Oh Joyce, love of my life,” Eddie says to himself, removing several pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and lining them up on the kitchen counter. Without even asking Steve for his preference, he wordlessly hands Steve the almost full pint of Cherry Garcia. He just knows which one is his favorite, apparently, which shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to her?”

 “I see your stance on asking people out at funerals has changed,” Steve remarks, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Eddie’s (playful, completely not serious, Joyce is their mom) suggestion.

 “First of all, post-funeral is fair game,” Eddie says as he gets out two bowls and two spoons; he, like Steve, knows this kitchen like the back of his hand. Even knows where to find a jar of apparently unopened maraschino cherries, theatrically blowing the dust off the lid into Steve’s face, who in return theatrically coughs and gags. After a slight pause, he takes the pint of Cherry Garcia out of Steve’s hand and sets to making a little sundae for him. Steve can only dumbly watch as Eddie gives him two scoops and presses down on them so they’re a little softer, just how Steve likes it, adding a brusquely effective swirl of whipped cream, cherries on top, before handing it back to him. In Steve’s professional opinion, it’s a Scoops Ahoy-worthy performance. Makes him kind of wish the outfit was involved, mmm.

 “Secondly,” Eddie says, Steve doing a quick mental scramble away from the vision of Eddie in blue striped shorts and back towards whatever the hell they had been talking about, “I’m pretty sure a sexless marriage is out of the question for her, so it would be a swift no.” He’s less formal with his own ice cream prep, simply jamming a spoon into his own tub (Phish Food, which is just so typically him), whipped cream and cherries apparently forgotten.

 “She deserves better than that,” Steve says now, years later, chasing a stray cherry around the side of his bowl with his spoon. “And so do you.”

 Eddie gives Steve a look, a little bit of humor and a little bit of apprehension and a bit of evaluation. And something so unsurprised, too, a kind of fond      Jesus H Christ, of course smile manifesting just through the shadow of a dimple, not quite making itself entirely seen.

 “I know,” Eddie says simply. The quiet confidence of a man who does know what he deserves, does know that he can and should be desired. Treasured. And get what he wants. And who is, maybe, a little surprised that Steve knows that too.

 Steve pops the maraschino cherry between his teeth, flavor exploding at the back of his tongue, just this shy of too syrupy-sweet, as he looks at Eddie’s face. He can feel it coming in, then. The way he’s heard that the water pulls all the way back far as the eye can see, before a tsunami comes rushing back in. Has a sense of what’s heading his way, in the time that it takes for Eddie to shake his head ruefully and continue, taking his eyes off Steve’s face in an uncharacteristically indirect move. One of only a handful of times Steve can think of, when Eddie hasn’t looked frank and fearless into Steve’s eyes.

 “You do too,” Eddie says to his bowl with quiet ferocity, and follows it with a spoonful of ice cream so quickly that it’s like he’s trying to stuff the words back in. Cover up the evidence with Ben&Jerry’s finest.

I love him, Steve thinks, the hundred-foot high wave coming in. Less devastating of a natural disaster, but sure as shit knocking him off his feet and sending him spinning. Hey, Eddie. I love you.  

[multific]

Protective Father

Patrick Bateman x Reader

Summary: Patrick was always extremely protective of you, you thought that was too much, then you gave birth.

A/N: This is a little follow-up to my headcanons, requested by a lovely person. 

“I’d kill anyone who even dares to look at the two of you in a bad way.” he confessed one night as the two of you were on the couch, his hand on your stomach. You read a book as he spoke to your baby.

“Aww! Patrick, thank you.” you fully knew he was serious but there was a spark in his eyes that you loved and so you kissed him.

When your son learned how to walk is when the real struggle began for Patrick.

He was on the heels of the baby all the time, even protecting him from flies. Before he could walk, Patrick would carry him everywhere. Barely letting him go for a moment.

When your son learned how to run is when the ultimate struggle began for Patrick.

You try to tell him that it was OK, that your son is going to be fine, nothing can hurt him but you also know your husband and you knew that he was not going to stop just because you asked him nicely once.

So just as your little boy started to grow so did your husband's worries and slowly but surely he became overprotective.

There were times even when you were at the park just taking a simple walk letting your baby run and play around, one time, he fell off of a swing which worried Patrick so incredibly that you have never seen him panic more than that day. But the icing on the cake was that your son wasn't even hurt, he just cried a little because he got scared but he was perfectly fine he even got ice cream after it.

But you will never forget the panic in Patrick when he ran as fast as he could to his son to help him up.

Even if little Richard wasn't hurt, Patrick couldn't let it go, he wanted to be 100% sure his son wasn't hurt and that he had everything he needed.

You often saw this as spoiling him, you didn't want your son to become a brat, but you understood where Patrick was coming from, the little boy was too precious. 

And this is exactly what you expected from Patrick Bateman himself.

A father who spoils their child. 

You had your baby on your hip, he was super interested in you cooking dinner, so he was your little helper.

Although mostly he just asked for juice or to taste something, with Richard being five, you wanted to show him the world as much as possible. And he seemed to be very interested in cooking and baking.

You put him on the counter when you needed to cut something. You taught him not to touch anything on the oven, you taught him it would hurt and he was an intelligent little man, so he never even tried.

"What are you two doing?" asked Patrick behind you.

"Dinner." you said as you stirred the pot, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Patrick pulling your son just a bit further away from the stove. You wanted to roll your eyes but you only smiled as you looked at them. "I'm almost ready, can you set the table please?"

And surely they did. You turned off the stove when you heard your son whine.

"Richard, let me do it, you might hurt yourself." you heard Patrick before you pocked your head out and saw your son with the forks in his tiny hand, holding on for dear life.

"I wanna." he said and you wanted to laugh, but you also wanted to see how Patrick will handle this.

He let out a long sigh. "You will hurt yourself, let Daddy do this."

"No." he was just as stubborn as your husband. Tiny knuckles turning white as he held the forks as if his life depended on them. 

"Okay, then let's do it together?" Patrick ended up offering since he knew he wouldn't get through to Richard.

You smiled at the cute scene as Patrick lifted his son and helped him, trying to teach him a little about where and how to place utensils, but all little Richie saw was the cute Mickey Mouse utensil set you bought him.

You wanted to laugh, no matter how stubborn your husband was, your son was the same if not worse.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[wefoundw0nd3rland]

I’ve seen people be disappointed about a few crows scenes being taken from CK and put into the show too early and I was a little taken aback at first when I watched them but honestly I think that they could really work in later seasons.

1. Kaz taking down Pekka

Honestly LOVED this scene in the book and when I was happening in the show I was like “NO! What’s happening this is way too early!” Then I sat back and thought about it.

Kaz and the crows are still kinda new to the game. They still fumble their heists sometimes. Kaz was super confident and so focused on his revenge towards Pekka, he went at him and was like yeah I finally got him. He takes down Pekka’s empire and made Pekka’s followers kinda lose some respect for him in the process (the side eyes they were giving each other) and sent Pekka to prison.

I think where they will go with this is Pekka ends up in prison PISSED. This little “barrel rat” just took everything from him. He gains more power and respect in prison (which we’ve already seen) then ends up breaking out, possibly in all the chaos that ensues when they break Matthias out. Then he really starts gunning for Kaz. In the book the conflict between them was a personal vendetta for Kaz. This way it will up the stakes as they’re both coming for each other. Maybe Pekka will hear about Juda Parem and try sabotaging the crows during their heist, then there’s still the fight between him and Kaz at the Ice Court only bigger now that it’s personal for both of them. Then when they get back to Ketterdam, Van Eck and him team up to take the crows down and now Pekka gets Van Eck’s plot line of kidnapping Inej, which brings me to the next scene.

(Also before I move on, that would mean that once Kaz actually takes down Pekka for real, Inej would be there for that scene since she wasn’t there for this one)

2. Kaz bandaging Inej

I haven’t seen people talk about this scene as much but for me I definitely thought it happened too early and wasn’t really ‘earned’ but basically what I think will happen is we’ll get this scene again.

So now Pekka takes Inej the same way that Kaz said that he took Pekka’s son. Again the stakes are upped. Kaz knows it’s on a personal level, has no idea if Pekka is bluffing or not. We get the whole Komide Brute scene actually play out (which was hinted at this season) and they end up getting Inej back but she’s injured. And now we get this same scene again except it’s after Inej’s whole “I will have you without armor speech” and this time when this scene plays out Kaz takes his gloves off to take away his armor.

3. Jesper and Wylan’s relationship

Not a specific scene but I just really loved their relationship. Yeah it’s different from the books but I liked how they were just happy and in a relationship together. I really liked the backstory of them having a one night stand beforehand because I feel like the fandom infantilizes Wylan a lot of the times and the show is like, no. This a grown man who has one night stands, is confident in his sexuality, and blows shit up.

Some people are worried about the “Not just girls” scene. Maybe we’ll get a flashback of them meeting where Wylan sees Jesper around for a few weeks, always flirting with girls. Then one night Jesper comes up to him and then we get that conversation and Wylan’s like “Alright cool, not just girls” then they have their one night stand.

Basically just remember nothing is really ruined. The show gets the vibes of the Crows so right. I think having some of these scenes now will only add more weight to the story later.

[bradshawsbaby]

Lt. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw As A Father (Pt. I)

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: I seriously cannot get enough of this man at the moment. I’m already planning a Part II for this one because Rooster and babies? Need I say more?

Warnings: Pregnancy/morning sickness/childbirth and, as usual, enough fluff to make your teeth melt.

- You and Bradley have always known that you wanted to have a family together. From the start of your relationship, you were very open about your desire to have children. Bradley, too, always wanted to be a father. He missed his parents terribly and longed for a family to call his own.

- The two of you had been actively trying for a baby since your wedding, but it wasn’t until almost a year into your marriage that you finally saw that little positive sign on your pregnancy test. You cried many tears of joy that day.

- Rooster was at work when you found out, so you spent the day trying to think of a good way to tell him.

- It was a few weeks before Christmas and the two of you had been planning to watch It’s A Wonderful Life that night, since it’s one of your favorite movies. An idea came to you then. You just hoped you’d be able to keep the secret until the time came to reveal the good news.

- Your heart was racing as you and Rooster sat snuggled up on the couch later that evening, sharing a bowl of popcorn. You knew the movie by heart, and you knew the exact moment when you wanted to reveal what you had discovered that day. You couldn’t help but glance up at your husband out of the corner of your eye at the start of the scene when Mary reveals to George that she’s pregnant with their first child.

- “I want my baby to look like you,” Mary tells George, beaming up at her beloved husband. You could understand the feeling.

- “You know,” you said at that moment, popping a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth in an attempt to mask your jittery nerves. “I have to agree with Mary on that one.”

- “What do you mean?” Rooster asked, brushing some of your hair behind your ear and looking down at you curiously.

- “I want my baby to look like you, too,” you told him, your eyes meeting his as you leaned back against his chest.

- “Your…your b-baby?” Rooster stuttered, his eyes widening in shock. You almost laughed at how adorably dumbfounded he looked. “Honey, does that mean you’re…?”

- “I’m pregnant,” you nodded, tears suddenly springing to your eyes, which you weren’t expecting in that moment.

- Rooster was quiet for a moment before letting out a loud whoop of joy, wrapping his arms around you tightly and lifting you up off the couch, swinging you around. “Best early Christmas present ever,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you tenderly.

- If you thought Rooster was an attentive husband before, he’s a hundred times more so during your pregnancy. That man would literally do anything for you.

- Need a back rub or a foot massage? He’s got you.

- Feeling a craving for ice cream at midnight? He’s driving to find an open store.

- Struggling with hormonal mood swings? He holds you when you cry and listens without judgment when you’re flying off the handle.

- You have terrible bouts of morning sickness in the first trimester. Rooster is always there to rub your back and carry you back to bed afterwards. Whenever he has to leave early for work, he makes sure to leave a pack of Saltine crackers on the nightstand, along with a note reminding you how much he loves you.

- He comes with you to all your doctor’s appointments, and he gets really emotional the first time he sees the baby on the ultrasound.

- Rooster loves getting to feel the baby kick. At night, when the two of you are lying in bed, he’ll often rest his head on your belly and talk to the baby.

- “Your mommy is the most beautiful woman in the whole world. I just want you to know that, Baby B,” he frequently says, using his favorite nickname for your child.

- Sometimes, he sings for the baby, too. It always makes you smile.

- “You know, the baby kicks the hardest whenever you sing ‘Great Balls of Fire,’” you laugh, imagining the baby dancing in your womb.

- You both decide that you want to be surprised and opt not to find out the baby’s sex.

- Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote take bets on what you’re going to have. Phoenix, Payback, and Coyote put their money on a girl. Bob, Hangman, and Fanboy think it’s going to be a boy.

- Rooster makes sure your hospital bag is packed weeks before your due date and has the route to the hospital planned to a T.

- When your water breaks in the middle of the night, Rooster is able to remain calm due to all his careful planning, despite the fact that he’s absolutely freaking out on the inside.

- He’s by your side through all twelve hours of labor and delivery, feeding you ice chips, wiping your forehead with a cool cloth, telling you over and over again what an amazing job you’re doing and how proud he is of you.

- “You got this, baby girl. You can do this. You’re so strong,” he whispers in your ear as you scream your way through another contraction. “Come on, honey. One more big push,” he tells you, squeezing your hand and supporting your back as you bear down one final time.

- Your baby comes into the world moments later, howling loudly and squirming vigorously.

- “It’s a boy!” your doctor announces, holding the baby up with a smile. The look of pride and awe on Bradley’s face melts your heart.

- You name him Nicholas Peter Bradshaw, in honor of his late grandfather and the man who will be like a grandfather to him.

- (Hangman gloats smugly when he collects his share of the bet money from Phoenix, Payback, and Coyote.)

- You truly didn’t think you could love your husband more, but watching him become a father makes you fall in love with him in a whole new way.

- Rooster adapts to fatherhood naturally. He loves holding Nick and talking to him about everything, walking him around your apartment and explaining to him what everything is. He’s willing to change diapers just as much as you are, and he often insists that you go back to sleep when your son wakes up in the middle of the night, promising that he’ll handle it.

- One time, while you were in the kitchen cooking dinner, Rooster fell asleep on the couch with Nick sleeping on his chest. When you walked into the living room and took in the sight, you thought your heart would explode with love. You managed to snap approximately 75 pictures of them on your cell phone, which you made your phone wallpaper for months.

- Even though he’s just a baby, Rooster starts teaching Nick everything he knows about aviation. He buys him toy airplanes and, as soon as he’s a few months old, starts taking him on trips to the naval base so that he can see the jets up close. Nick’s eyes alway light up and he gurgles happily, reaching for the jets eagerly.

- “He’s a natural. Gonna join the family business,” Rooster always tells you. The pride on his face and in his voice when he says that pierces your heart in the best way.

- Neither of you intentionally make the decision to start calling your son Goose. It just happens.

- You and Rooster were sitting on either side of your son’s high chair one day, trying to coax him into saying his first word. He’d come close several times at that point, but had never quite managed it.

- “Say Mama, Nicholas. Or Dada. Come on, my sweet boy,” you begged him in a sing-song voice, squeezing his hand.

- “Come on, buddy,” Rooster added, ruffling your son’s feather-soft hair. “Talk to me, Goose.” It just slipped out. Both of you had frozen at that, the emotions that came with that statement playing out on both your faces.

- “Dada!” Nicholas had suddenly exclaimed, laughing happily at your shocked expressions.

- Your son was Goose from that day forward.

- Not long after Goose’s first birthday, Rooster held you close in bed and whispered in your ear, “Let’s make another baby.”

- You smiled at that, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was not only an amazing husband, but also an incredible father. You couldn’t wait to grow your family with him. “That sounds like an excellent idea, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you told him.

- “Mm, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he grinned, kissing your neck as you and he got to work on expanding your family that very night.

[lapushvibez]

can we have some jealous edward headcanons please?

have a great day!

jealous edward? sign me tf up. lol i hope you enjoyed this small hc list. please request more if you want. <3

We all know this man is SUFFERING from raging jealousy issues. It's less of "I own you" and more like he's depressed thinking of horrible scenarios.

If you have a best friend of the opposite sex he might act bitter around them/when they're mentioned.

He understands you deserve emotional connections and support from other people. You don't have to worry about him keeping you hostage or anything.

Edward will ALWAYS be with you though.. there's nothing strong enough to keep him away from his mate. Unless he needs to hunt.

Since he's gifted with the ability to read minds he can easily find out who's crushing on you and if they have any vulgar thoughts about you. Edward definitely lost his calm demeanor once or twice.

If looks could kill? Oh yeah. Whoever is trying to snatch you away from him would drop dead from his glares. Ice cold. Threatening.

Edward uses physical touch for silent reassurance. He grabs your hand. Squeezes gently. Pulls you closer. Kisses your forehead. Rubs your lower back.

Soft eye contact with you. He honestly looks like a kicked puppy sometimes. He's practically begging you to stay with him. Please take the time to ease his anxiety. He'll appreciate it more than you expect.

Edward's never angry at you whenever he gets jealous. He's pissed at the person who managed to get under his cold skin. The minute he looks at you he softens and asks for permission to hold you.

Remember that scene in eclipse after Jake kissed Bella? Yeah, you'll see that type of outburst at least once. Oops.

The best way to comfort him during these episodes of jealousy is to baby him. Cuddle him. Whisper words of affirmations. Confess your affection and love shamelessly. Although he has a habit of trying to convince you NOT to feel that way, he'll learn to like it and eventually love hearing you talk so highly of him.

It's rare he speaks when jealous. But when he does it's obvious what mood he's in. His words are sharp. Sentences are short. Full of irritation and dominance.

"They're busy with me tonight."

"They're taken."

"I'm their boyfriend."

"They don't want you here." (He has no problem speaking up for you, if that's what you prefer.)

Edward kisses you a little too passionately in front of others. Especially at school in the parking lot. He knows people are staring. He wants everyone to see you're all his and always will be.

If you have an ex bf/gf.. Good luck.

This man will glare at them 24/7. Hates them with a burning passion. Even if the break up was done respectfully. He'll never understand how someone could CHOOSE to leave someone like you.

But at the same time he wants to show you off and he's happy they let you go. Now you're all his.

You're his mate. He's in love and obsessed. Nothing will ever be able to calm his love for you. He loves you loudly and proudly. Extremely protective as well.

[specialagentlokitty]

Sherlock x Teen!reader - my kid

Hello! Just recently found your daughter!reader and Sherlock fanfic and it is amazing!!! The only bad thing about it was that I've already read it so much it's basically memorized lol. Anyways, I am here to politely ask that you do another adopted reader Sherlock fic, but could you do gender neutral reader please? I don't care about the plot, there's just so little child!reader Sherlock in the fandom its scary out there. No rush and thank you if you decide to!!! - Anon💜

John was the one who first found you, sitting in the police station as you kept tugging on the cuffs that held you to one of the benches while Anderson and Donovan snickered while looking at you.

“You’re laughing at a kid?” John snarled at them.

They both turned to look at him, looking him at and down unimpressed as they scoffed a little.

“They try this every single time they’re here, they must be stupid or something they never learn.” Donovan shrugged.

You glared at her and tugged at the cuffs, making the metal creak a little under the sheer force and she shuffled back a little.

You smirked and did it again.

You knew you couldn’t break the cuffs, you weren’t that strong, but a sudden tug that hard? Of course it would strain the metal.

“Let me go and we’ll see if you’re still laughing bitch. Why not get on your knees, you’re clearly good at it.”

She gawked at you and John and to physically stop himself from laughing.

“How dare you speak to her like that.” Anderson snapped.

“Oh shut up, I bet your wife will love you even more when she finds out you’ve got a whore kneeling down for you every other night. Maybe I should call her, shouldn’t be hard to get her number right?”

“You shut your mouth.” He warned.

You smirked, leaning forward a little and John watched the scene play out.

“Or what? Gonna hit a teenager? Not very police officer of you is it?”

“(Y/N) enough.”

You stopped and looked up at the man who had just come out of his office.

He glared at the two officer who were previously making fun of you.

“You two, my office now.”

“You can’t be serious, they started it!” Donovan scoffed.

“Now!”

Hearing their superior yell at them they quickly scurried into his office and he slammed the door shut, kneeling down in front of you he uncuffed you.

You rubbed your sore wrist and he stood up.

“What they get you for this time?”

“Wrong place wrong time, was literally just crossing the street man.”

“I’m sorry (Y/N), from now on those two idiots are to stay as far away from you as possible. Do you want any ice?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, you pointed behind him and he turned around to face John.

“Oh John, here for Sherlock?”

“Yeah, what’s he done now.” John sighed.

Lestrade gestured for John to follow him but before he left he turned around to look at you.

“Stay there.”

You rolled your eyes and slumped back against the wall, crossing your arms as you watched them walk away.

You waited for the moment they turned around the corner and gave it a few seconds before you stood io and slowly started to make your way out.

“Hey stop!” Someone yelled.

You pulled your hoodie off, throwing it in his face and bolted out of the building, rushing down the steps you quickly turned and sprinted down the street.

A few teenagers around your age were waiting and the moment they saw you, you all took off running as fast and as far away as you could.

“Damn arrested again? Seriously dude that’s like the fifth time this week.”

You stopped running and stopped to catch your breath, leaning back against a fence.

“Don’t even man, I don’t know why they grabbed me Ty, like I didn’t do anything.”

“Whatever let’s just go before they find us.”

You nodded to Jason and you all walked away.

Lestrade could’ve lied and said he was shocked you made a run for it but he really wasn’t, he just sighed and picked up your hoodie from a desk.

“We’ve got a case what are you doing?” Sherlock sighed.

“I’m dropping this off after I go to the crime scene relax. Let’s go already.”

Sherlock led the way, eager to get to his first case after being thrown in the cells for the night for breaking into a crime scene.

This crime scene was different, and it was in a totally different area, empty just a few officer keeping watch and crime scene techs.

“A dramatic change in location.” John mumbled.

“Not surprising, we were closing in. It’s to try and throw us off his trail, but there’s going to be some markers on the body and around it that’ll tell us exactly where this woman came from.”

Sherlock started to look around, and he noticed the food wrappers, sleeping bags and such and he stopped.

“People live here.” He noted.

Lestrade and John walked over, and Lestrade sighed, running a hand down his face.

“That would be (Y/N), Ty and Jason.”

“You know them?” John asked.

“Yeah, they couldn’t have done this, but they were supposed to be in a shelter. Ran away a few days ago.”

“Apparently not.”

Sherlock looked to the edge of the police tape and pointed, and when you saw the police officer you grinned a little.

“Hi?”

They three men walked over and you and your two friends got ready to make a run for it again.

“Ah, don’t even think about it.” Lestrade warned.

You all stopped and he ducked under the tape, standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Running away? Seriously? I thought you liked it there?”

“Yeah if you like people stealing your shit.” Jason scoffed.

“How long have you three been here?” Sherlock asked.

You looked at him, hands stuffed your your pockets.

“Since yesterday morning. I was nicked this morning and these two followed me to the station.”

“That means this happened in between 10am and 1pm.” John said.

“11am actually, I actually spent an hour running from those two morons.” You shrugged.

Sherlock smirked a little and nodded his head.

“By the way, that woman? She wasn’t kill here, can we have out stuff now?”

“No, sorry it’s evidence right now. But I’ve got your jacket hold on.”

Lestrade walked away and John looked at you.

“You saw her?”

“Well yeah it’s a huge open wear house man, not exactly hiding her. Some dude wanted her to be found.”

“What else do you see?” Sherlock asked.

He was curious, because this was stuff picked up on immediately as well, and since you lived here, you would know if anything was out of order.

You walked away with Sherlock, pointing at things and answering his questions.

“They’re smart.” John said.

“Yeah, good eye for detail, who do you think tags all the trains?” Jason snickered.

John smiled a little and didn’t say anything in return, he just watched you walk around with his best friend.

Lestrade came back holding your hoodie and watched you walking around with Sherlock.

“If you’re so smart why aren’t you a police officer?”

Sherlock looked down at you.

“They’re annoying.” He replied.

You smirked.

“Yeah, they are. So you like a privet investigator?”

“No. I’m a consultant for Scotland Yard, I consult on cases they can’t solve.”

“Apparently that’s none of them.” You snickered.

He smirked and nodded his head in agreement and went back to the investigation.

Since you couldn’t get your stuff back, Lestrade forced you and your two friends to go back to the shelter.

To make sure the three of you stayed there he even placed officer outside since you were effectively being grounded for the week.

“Here, for you.”

You looked at the woman and took the post she held out to you.

Sitting on the floor, you opened it and looked at the photos in confusion.

Photos of you and Sherlock at that crime scene, and you were circled in each and every single one of them.

“What the fuck…?”

You were creeped out, and you didn’t know what to do.

Did you go to Lestrade? He was basically your point of call for everything but he couldn’t even solve figure out where you were hiding from him.

So you decided to go back to the next best person who you knew could help you.

Running down the stairs, you hid the photos under your shirt and looked up at the officer who eyed you in suspicion.

“Do you know where that Sherlock and John live?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Am I allowed to go there?”

“You’re on house arrest.”

“But you’ll be there too, plus you’ll know where I am.”

The officer thought about this before shrugging, not seeming to actually care and gestured for you to get into his car.

He drove you there and told you what flat number you wanted so you knocked at the door and looked around before turning back to it.

“Oh hello love, here for Sherlock Holmes?” She smiled.

“Yes please Miss, is he home?”

“I believe so, come on up.”

“Thank you.” You beamed.

She led you up to the flat at the top of the stairs and she threw the door open.

“Sherlock you have a visitor!”

With that she gave you a smile and left, letting you wait at the entranceway to the flat.

Sherlock came around the corner and looked at you.

“You got it to.”

You nodded, pulling the photos out as you held them out to him.

Sherlock closed the door and pointed to the sofa, and you took a seat as he grabbed some more and dropped them onto the table, letting you look through them.

“What kind of sick bastard is this?” You asked.

“If I had to pick. I know exactly who it is.”

“Who?”

“Moriarty.”

You could tell by his face that he wasn’t going to be telling you anymore so you decided not to even bother to ask.

“Am I safe where I am?”

“No.”

You nodded your head and got up.

“I’ve got places to hide.”

You went to leave but it as John that stopped you from going, phone in his hand as he put it on speaker.

“You need to stay with someone until all this is over.”

“Lestrade?”

“Yes, John called me the moment you showed up at his door with the same photos Sherlock got.”

You looked at John and he nodded his head.

“But no matter where I go I won’t be safe, right? So I need to hide alone.”

“You’ll be safe here.” John said.

You looked at him again and he smiled softly.

“I mean we’ve got some space, just until this has all calmed down, alright?”

“It’s our best option.” Lestrade spoke up.

You didn’t argue, and that’s how you started living with Sherlock and John.

John had cleared out his room, getting the flat on the ground floor, so you weren’t near the main door, and someone would always be in the building with you.

Over time they got you more things, clothes, furniture and such and you had a full on room with them.

You and John played games and you read his blog while he wrote it, and you and Sherlock talked about cases and he taught you things he knew.

Months slipped by and Mrs Hudson let your friends live in the flat above you, and even though you were safe now you still stayed with Sherlock.

“Why do you still keep me around?” You asked.

Sherlock looked at you, you were hanging upside down from the sofa.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No…”

Sherlock stood up, walking over he put the papers down he was holding and you sat up properly.

You picked them up and he dropped a pen on the table as well.

“I don’t get it.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“For someone so smart you’re also stupid. Read the papers (Y/N).”

“I did! Why are you giving me them?”

Sherlock poked your forehead.

“Why do you think idiot.”

You looked at him shocked, a huge smile spreading across your face.

“Seriously?”

“Why else would I give them to you?”

“To mock me?”

He shrugged.

“That thought did cross my mind, but if you’re living here I may as well adopt you.”

“I’d like that.”

You signed the papers and Sherlock took them back, saying he was going to return them and the moment he left the flat he smiled a little to himself.

You were his kid now, and he was happy he could say you were his kid, he was going to teach you everything he knew and take you on cases with him since you loved working with him

[ab4eva]

‘Tomorrow Will Be Too Late’

Part 4

Summary: Elvis Presley x Reader / For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved two things - Elvis Presley and time travel. After seeing the 1968 Comeback Special for the first time, you decide to try and get back to him for one incredible night, by any means necessary.

Author’s note: I’m not even sure if anyone is still interested in this story or not but the next part is finally here. It was an absolute nightmare to write, I was stuck for so long. I honestly didn’t even know if I was going to keep writing it but I surprised even myself. Very special thanks to Ally (@elvisabutler) who helped me get over the hump when I was incredibly blocked. You probably wouldn’t be reading this chapter if not for her. And my Lovely Ladies of Graceland for the encouragement, help, wisdom, friendship and motivation. The boot scene idea and one line is courtesy of the lovely Marina, so thank her for that hotness.

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Language, infidelity, oral (f. receiving), boot riding (yes really), daddy kink, angst, mention of death, a scary episode that might be considered close to something like a seizure.

Word count: 7,401

TWBTL Masterlist

-

The thing no one ever mentions about time travel - in movies, in books - is just how lonely and isolating it really is. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a crowd of people, or one other person, you’re still alone. You can’t ever be your true self because who you are doesn’t exist in that world, in that particular time and place. You’ve come from your own time, where you belong, to another world entirely, where your existence is an anomaly. A disruption. Wrong. And you feel it. The wrongness of it all. It pushes on the back of your head and the sides of your temples and the backs of your knees. Almost like an invisible force is trying to knock you down. You feel off balance, as if you could fall into an abyss at any moment. It sets your teeth on edge and makes your bones ache. You didn’t think you’d feel a physical toll on your body but you do. The longer you stay, the stronger it becomes. You can no longer ignore the pull towards home, your own place in the universe.

-

The sharp ding of a text message startles you out of your reverie and you pull your eyes away from the window you’ve been staring out of. Looking down, you see it’s your mom…again. You really should give her a call but you just can’t manage to bring yourself to, not yet. You’ve been back home a week now and so far you’ve managed to shower, once. Order in groceries. Cry. Watch a little bit of TV. Cry. Stare out the window for long periods of time. Cry some more. You know your family is probably worried but you’ve been able to hold them off by telling them you’ve been sick and will call when you’re feeling up to it. You thought maybe you’d be in a little bit of a better place than you were a week ago, but no. You’re still just as destroyed as when you left 1968. When you left him. A fresh wave of tears crashes over you as you think about that last morning…

Scattered thoughts pull you from a peaceful slumber at Elvis’s side. You’re not ready to wake up, not yet, but before your eyes are even open they take hold like a wildfire burning through your brain and won’t let go. Not ready to contemplate everything but knowing you’ve already stayed here longer than you should. Your heart seizes at the thought of leaving Elvis and suddenly your body is ice, the blood running cold in your veins, and you lay there a moment, almost paralyzed. You look over at his still sleeping form and it gives you a moment to study him. Face relaxed in rest, all of the cares and worries he’s been holding onto this week have slipped away. He looks peaceful, like a little boy. No, not just any little boy, but the boy he was, the pictures you’ve seen of him from Humes Junior High School. You wonder at how this man before you can change so quickly from one thing to another, how he can hold both things in him at the same time. His face is leaner, baby fat gone from his cheeks and chin, nose ever so slightly thinner, but it’s the same face. Plush, pink lips curved gently into a smile, even now, long, dark eyelashes splayed across his cheeks, straight eyebrows framing it all. You're tempted to kiss him awake, to start a fire that can’t be quenched. But you stop yourself. If you start now, you’ll never stop. You’ll never leave. And you have to leave. It’s already breaking your heart but your time is up. You feel it in your bones, deep inside. That fragile line you followed all the way back here, to him, is now pulled taut, and it’s tugging you back, inch by inch. You think it might break if you’re not careful and then where would you be? No, you have to go. The sooner the better.

You carefully disentangle yourself from the sheets, mindful not to disturb Elvis, your eyes lingering a moment too long on his sleeping form, before you remind yourself why it is you’re leaving his bed in the first place. You’re doing it for him. You don’t belong here, in his life. You shouldn’t be here. You could fuck it all up and that terrifies you more than the thought of leaving him does. You float around the room, quiet as a mouse, retrieving the few things you have. You hope he doesn’t wake up, as painful as is it to slip away without another word. You just can’t bare the thought of looking into his eyes, hearing his voice, feeling his hands on you. Seeing him smile playfully, that pink tongue touching his top lip when he finds something amusing. Or whispering in your ear as his hand finds it’s way to your back as he leads you down the hallway. Not now, not today. It would you break you in half, and you can’t have that, not when you need every piece of you whole for what comes next. It’s better this way. This way, it’s just a fling, something passing and trivial. For him, anyway. For you it’s more than that, much more, but you can’t stop to give these thoughts any air to breathe, lest they pull you under and drown you. You dress quickly, quietly, running a comb through your hair and slipping on your shoes. Turning back around you’re nearly startled to death, jumping out of your skin as you see Elvis sitting up in bed, arms crossed, silently watching you, a look of barely contained fury on his handsome face. Shit. You stare at him, frozen in place and heart jackhammering in your chest, any words you think to utter die on your lips the longer this silent showdown continues. You open your mouth to say something, anything, to fill the void but he beats you to it.

“Save it honey,” he says through gritted teeth as he throws the covers back and stands up, long legs striding over to where you’re standing, pointing a finger in your face. “You could have told me if this was just s-s-some kind t-t-trophy for you. Something to brag about to your little friends? Who else have you f-f-fucked, huh? Mick Jagger? Robert Plant? You some s-s-sort of rock star w-w-whore?” He hurls this at you with venom, his emotions betrayed by that old stutter, intended to hurt. And it does. In more ways than one.

Your mouth drops open and you feel tears threaten your eyes. It feels as if he’s punched you in the gut, you’re so unable to breath or think beyond the pain his words have sliced through you. He’s towering over you, chest heaving, pulse beating wildly under his jaw, his silk pajama shirt open to the waist. You’re in agony, your hands itching to reach out and hold him, reassure him that he’s gotten it all wrong. You realize not only is he angry, he’s also hurt. Hurt by the fact you would just thoughtlessly walk out on him after the past two days. That you could. Your heart is already broken by the fact you have to leave him but to leave him knowing he feels more than just a fleeting passion for you is overwhelming. You shut your eyes as tears spill down your cheeks, your hands balled into fists at your side, trying to gain a bit of strength to do what must be done. You open your eyes, expecting to meet his fractured blue ones but he’s no longer standing in front of you. He’s sitting hunched over on the end of the bed, looking defeated and weary. Your heart shatters just a little bit more and despite your better judgement, you find yourself kneeling in-between his legs, an echo of last night, but this time no one’s having fun.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your hands hovering on either side of his cheeks, hesitating just a moment before taking his face in your hands, “look at me.” His eyes are downcast, refusing to meet your gaze. Stubborn, headstrong, impossible man. “I’m sorry. I…” you stop, unsure of what to say, how to make him understand all of the things you cannot say. “Listen, I thought this was just a fun little fling for you. I know…I know how these things work, I wasn’t born yesterday.” He does look up at you then, meeting your eyes briefly, a hint of embarrassment in them, before looking away again. “And - the truth is…” you swallow back the tears that are threatening to fall again. “The truth is…I like you. You have to know that, Elvis. I thought it would be easier - for me - if I just…slipped away. It’s a self-preservation thing. And I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry. Really I am.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stays where he is, refusing to look at you, silent. And then the tears you were holding back start to fall, and your hands on his face feel like they’re on fire and you drop them to your lap. Suddenly, it’s all too much to bear. You are overwhelmed and exhausted by the last 48 hours - the pleasure, the pain, the disorientation, the otherness of your situation. You crumple in on yourself, curling into a ball at his feet, letting the feelings crush you as sobs wrack your body. You don’t care what Elvis thinks of you - don’t care that he might think you’re crazy or emotional or complicated. All you want right now is for the pain to stop. You wish you’d never come. Wish you’d never known how his callused hands feel on your delicate skin, the way his mouth fits perfectly on yours, like two puzzle pieces slotting together. Wish you’d never known how his voice sounds first thing in the morning, all sleepy and raspy, his southern drawl that much stronger, before he became aware of himself, before he became the Elvis everyone expected him to be. Most of all, you wish you’d never known what it feels like to be loved, even for a brief moment, by Elvis Presley. Because now you know it feels like you can breathe again, for the first time in a long time, and you don’t even know when it was that you had ever stopped. It feels like coming home.

You’re dimly aware of his hands on you, of the shushing noises he is making as he runs his hands over your body, trying to get you to calm down. If you could see his face, you’d see regret and sadness there, the fact that he is apparently the cause of all your heartache, his own feelings forgotten for the moment. It broke something in him to see you like this, ripped his insides up just a little. He’s never met anyone so emotional, so prone to tears, and rather than anger or annoy him, it makes him want to take care of you, to stop those tears and never have to see them again.

“Come on now, honey…calm down. I’m sorry, I-I-I didn’t mean what I said before, I was angry. I shouldn’t have said those things.” There’s a desperation in his voice that makes you cry harder, because it means he cares, more than you thought possible. His hands are on your shoulders and suddenly he’s lifting you onto his lap, though when he sat down on the floor you don’t know. You resist at first, pushing against his chest like a petulant child, your arms and legs resistant to his touch. But he pays you no mind as he gathers you close to him once again, as if he knows exactly what you need, even when you don’t - he rubs your back and lets you cry, just as he did the first night you spent with him. You’re too tired to fight any more and slump against him, chest slightly heaving as you stare into the distance, numb. You’re silent now, the tears still falling, soaking his silk pajama shirt, but instead of the overwhelming storm of before, these are bitter tears of grief, crying for what is already lost. For he is lost to you, one way or another. You’re clinging to a ghost, the shadow of a man long gone and you shiver even though his warmth is seeping into every inch of your body.

“There now,” Elvis murmurs, “sweet lil girl. Lovely girl.” He smooths the hair back from your forehead as he leans you back in his arms, cradling you like a baby, and shushing you like one too. Your tears have subsided and only little hiccups stir you every now and again, the room silent and you shut your eyes against the early morning sun that pours through the curtains.

“Now, lil one, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on. And why ya tried to sneak out o’ here like ya did,” he says softly, turning your chin gently so your eyes meet his. You expect to see some of the anger from before, but instead you see only concern and…deep affection. You will yourself to keep the tears down, to make it through this next part. This is the last test, the one you have to pass. You steady your voice and pull yourself up to sitting, being able to face him head on somehow makes this a little bit easier.

“I am sorry, Elvis. The truth is, I have to go home. I have a job and a life and…these past two days have been the most incredible of my life. But I can’t stay here…much as I’d like to,” you end quietly, suddenly shy. “And…you have someone waiting for you. This was never…this was never going to be anything more than what it is.” He smiles at you, sweet and sad, a sigh escaping his pink lips.

“I know, honey,” he says, the internal struggle in his mind apparent on his face. Finally he makes up his mind, saying, “But will ya come visit me at Graceland? I can make arrangements for…for us to be alone.” You feel your heart speed up at the thought once again of what you were doing. But more than that, the only thing making it’s way to your mind now is that he wants to see you again. Your heart feels as if it might float out of your chest. Can you promise him that you’ll see him at Graceland? No, of course not. It didn’t work like that. You aren’t even sure if you can travel again. And if you can, what affect would it have you? On Elvis? But the pull is too strong - blue eyes pleading with you, begging you to say yes. How are you supposed to deny Elvis Presley anything?

“OK,” you breathe, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face.

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you like it’s Christmas morning and you’re just the thing he’s always wanted, his face all lit up and hopeful.

“Yeah,” you whisper, pulling his mouth down to yours, kissing him, hard. Like you’re trying to imprint the memory of his lips onto yours. Like you’re trying to melt yourself into him, so that you can stay with him forever. Like you’re trying to impress upon him the memory of you, so that in his weaker moments, his loneliness, he remembers you.

-

You had told Elvis you’d see him at Graceland in two weeks. The hardest part was convincing him that you wouldn’t have access to a phone for those two weeks. In the end, you made up some story about having to go overseas for work and wouldn’t be able to call long distance. He seemed slightly dubious but accepted it, as long as you promised to take the number to Graceland in case you needed anything. That was a week ago, one more left to go. You spend every waking moment, every sleeping one too, obsessed with the thought of going back. Worried it won’t work, worried you’ll never see him again. And when you’ve worried enough, that’s when the tears come. But you’ve only got a week left until you try and create lightning in a bottle for the second time, which means it’s time to get to work. You read up on any new information or theories that have popped up in the past few days. You type out your experience, all the details, everything you remember from you trip and save it to a Word document on your laptop labeled “Bill S. Preston, Esq.” You’re still able to make corny jokes, that had to be a good sign. You connected with your family, finally, who all agreed that you looked rather weak and pale after being sick. If they only knew. Your sister was the only one who was in on the secret and she fussed accordingly over you and made you promise to be careful, take every precaution. You promised. She could see the light in your eyes that had never been there before, and feel the lightness of your spirit, which she hadn’t seen in you for quite sometime. How could she be anything but happy for you when it made you this alive.

This time you drive yourself to Memphis, it’s only a few hours away, and you figure time in the car to think will do you good. It gives you time to run through the plan again, to run through every scenario you can think of, troubleshooting in your mind as you go. You’re as prepared as you’ll ever be by the time you reach your hotel, planning on getting a good nights rest before your first attempt tomorrow. This time you’ve packed a vintage suitcase with clothes, pajamas, money…whatever you might need for a few days. He asked you to come for the week and while it excites you, it also fills you with a bit of dread. You haven’t stayed in the past that long before, you aren't sure what might happen. But it’s a risk you’re willing to take, foolish as it may be. The way you feel right now has you floating on air, possible consequences be damned. If everything goes as planned, by this time tomorrow you’ll be back in Elvis’s arms.

-

The few times you’ve been to Graceland flash through your mind as your car pulls up outside the mansion. The most intense feeling of deja vu courses through you and you shudder. You’ve been here before…but not…you remember all the tours you took of the house - this house. But that’s not what’s giving you the feeling of deja vu. It’s like you’re remembering something that hasn’t happened yet. You distinctly remember pulling up the driveway in a car like this and stopping here, in front of the steps, just as you are now. But that’s impossible. You’ve never been to the mansion in a car before, only the shuttle bus that takes you from the main entrance annex at the Graceland compound, across Elvis Presley Boulevard, through the graffitied gates of Graceland and up the hill to the mansion. Your mind must be playing tricks on you, your brain a little scrambled from the back and forth between past and present. Before you can ruminate on it any further your eyes are drawn to the front door and you see something you’ve only dreamed about. Elvis Presley, opening wide the door of Graceland, a cheeky grin lighting up his handsome face as he saunters down the front steps to greet you. You’re so entranced by the image it’s almost as if you’re watching an old home movie taken by someone else, something you’ve seen a hundred times. You don’t realize you’re just sitting there, staring at him through the window, until he tries to open your door and it’s locked. He shakes his head with a smirk and taps on the window.

“I thought you weren’t gonna lock me out anymore, little girl. You’re not tryin’ to brat up on me again so soon, are ya?” The playfulness sparkles in his eyes and his smirk tells you he remembers quite vividly the last time you tried to lock him out of somewhere he wanted to be. Your face flushes at the memory and you see him notice, giving you a look so full of promise and desire it takes your breath away.

“I don’t know, maybe I am. What are you gonna do about it?” you say with a smile, opening the car door and stepping out as you eye each other timidly. It’s only been two weeks but in some ways it feels like an eternity since you last saw him. Then suddenly he’s pulling you into his arms and crushing you in a bear hug, squeezing so tightly you’re having trouble catching a breath. Your not complaining and hug him back almost as hard, earning a satisfied grunt from him. A Tracy Chapman lyric hovers in your thoughts, “It would feel so good to be, in your arms, where all my journeys end.” That isn’t right, can’t be right…he isn’t your destiny. This isn’t where your journey ends…it’s just one part of it. He has his life…had his life, you correct yourself, and not for the first time you feel a chill settle on your shoulders as you look into the eyes of a man gone from this world for almost fifty years. But he isn’t gone…not yet. He’s here, right now, flesh and blood - alive.

“Whadya think of it, Queenie?” he asks as he takes your hand and pulls you up the front steps, the pride apparent in his voice, his face beaming. You’re too charmed for a moment to register what he said until your brain catches up.

“Queenie?” you question as you draw your eyebrows together and give him a puzzling look. He stares at you expectantly and dips his head like a little kid, almost bashful. “Queenie,” you say again slowly, trying it out, seeing how it sounds on your tongue, rolling through your head, landing somewhere near your heart. A smile spreads across your face and something fragile perches in your soul. He named you. Claimed you as his own.

“Everyone insists on calling me the King…figure I should have a Queen.” He flashes that famous lopsided grin before gathering you in his arms and nuzzling his nose into your neck at the ticklish spot just below your ear and your shoulder lifts automatically in response as he plants soft kisses there, his lips dragging across the the sensitive flesh, his tongue darting out every now and again for a taste, making you shiver. You’re still planted firmly on the front porch of Graceland for all the world to see. You manage to reluctantly pull away, suddenly terrified someone will see the two of you.

“Show me the rest of it…please?” you say, like you haven’t already been inside his house many times, like you don’t remember exactly where each room is, like all of the little factoids you’ve ever heard aren’t running circles in your head. He’s pulling you inside by the hand and as soon as the front door is shut his arms are around your waist and his lips are crashing into yours with a desperation so fierce it engulfs you like a wildfire in mere seconds. He walks you backwards towards the staircase, never breaking the kiss, his hands in your hair, on your hips, fingertips brushing the bare skin of your thighs as he inches your skirt higher and higher. Your heel hits the bottom stair and you stumble a little and giggle into his mouth, your arms instinctively circling his neck to steady yourself as Elvis gently lowers you back onto the stairs. You barely realize what’s happening as he drops to his knees before you and pushes your skirt up to your waist, tugging your baby pink cotton panties down and off with a gentle force that has you grabbing onto the wooden stair rail to keep yourself from sliding off the stairs entirely. You gasp at the unexpected exposure and immediately close your legs and sit up. “Elvis!” you whisper, your heart banging in your chest and a deep blush staining your cheeks.

“Shh, baby, relax. Let me take care of you. Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for two long weeks.” He kisses you, almost chastely, and places a hand on your shoulder, firmly but slowly pushing you back down. Your eyes come to rest on the crystal chandelier sparkling above as you inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your pounding heart. You jump as his cool hands grasp your knees to try and pry your legs apart and you shoot up again, quick as anything. He chuckles and shakes his head. “You sure are a skittish lil thing…I told you before honey, relax. Nothin’ to be scared of, let Daddy take care of ya. Be a good little girl for me, now.”

You watch as he places a kiss on each knee, his navy eyes never leaving yours. You’re fascinated by the way his pink lips look on your ivory skin as he peppers your legs with kisses, lightly squeezing your calves and you sigh deeply, sinking back to the carpet. You open your legs a little more, granting him access to your thighs as he continues his delicate assault upwards towards your core. Lifting one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder, his other hand strokes your mound before he spreads your lips gently and lowers his head, his breath hot on your sensitive flesh. He flattens his tongue and begins to lick long, slow stripes up your wet heat. A whine leaves your lips unbidden and you arch your back up and into him. His lips close over your sensitive bud as he begins to suck, his tongue massaging at the same time. You’re breath comes out in shallow gasps, and you’re grasping at anything you can to anchor you - one hand gripping the stair rail, the other finding it’s way to Elvis’s dark locks.

Two of his long, nimble fingers slip inside you and he fucks you with them, agonizingly slow, his tongue rubbing circles around your clit. The carpet underneath begins to burn your bare backside from the friction, but it only adds pleasure to your destruction. Your hands instinctively move to your breasts, teasing your peaked nipples through your dress. He can feel you trembling, hear your high-pitched keening and when he curls his fingers up to hit that spot and hums against your skin, you finally break, clenching fiercely as his name leaves your lips over and over again in a choked breath. Your thighs clamp around his head as you ride out your high, his arm around your thigh the only thing anchoring you now. The chandelier above your head swims into view as you open your eyes, trying to catch your breath. Elvis is practically laying on you now as he looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach - your hands tangle in his hair and he beams a self-satisfied little smile at you.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it honey?” he teases, blue eyes sparkling. “I love watching ya fall apart because of me, ‘cause of the things I’m doin’ to ya.” It’s too much, the way he’s looking at you, the things he’s saying - the things he just did. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed, but he reaches up, moving them away and making you look at him. “I like knowing I took care of my baby, ain’t nothin to be shy about.” He rubs his thumb across your lips and you see a smile tug at the side of his mouth, a private joke only he knows the punchline to.

“Elvis…that was…” you’re at a loss for words, truly. This wasn’t what you had expected your first moments in Graceland to be like. “Thank you,” you say simply, the only thing that comes to your jumbled mind. He helps you up, helps you put yourself back together, helps you smooth your dress down. A private tour of Graceland by Elvis Presley himself was not something that has ever crossed your mind. So to find yourself here now, in the Jungle Room, with him was…surreal. The two of you passed the afternoon quite happily, exploring the grounds and just catching up, talking about one thing or another. Thankfully, Elvis had arranged for the both of you to use a friend’s house while you were in town, a cozy little bungalow he had bought for a member of his Memphis Mafia and who he had promptly kicked out for the week, sending the poor fellow off to Los Angeles in exchange. Secretly, you were glad. You wouldn’t have wanted to share Elvis’s bedroom at Graceland, and being the southern gentleman he was, he wouldn’t have wanted that either.

-

Elvis appears in the mirror behind you, and you have to stop yourself from gasping at how handsome he looks, how the very sight of him sends a well of desire bubbling up from deep within and threatens to overflow and choke you. You have to have him - now. This is the most inconvenient time. He’s on his way to a dinner with the heads of Memphis society, local government officials and various charity organizations. A dinner you’re not invited to, which means you’ll be spending your first evening back with him alone. A prospect you’re not too thrilled about, but he could make it better, leave you sated and satisfied instead of desperate and wanting.

“I need you, E,” you whine, the breathlessness of your voice surprising even you.

Elvis chuckles with amusement as you watch him drift closer and closer in the mirror. “I can see that, Queenie. You’re just gonna have to wait til I get home. Can’t have me turnin up in polite society all disheveled now, can we? Despite what we get up to when we’re alone, I am a respectable man.” The way he’s looking at you begs to differ, like he could devour you whole right this minute, the hunger in his eyes matching your own. His big, warm hands find their way to your bare shoulders and slip underneath the thin straps of your vintage nightgown. His thumbs rub slow circles in the dimples of your shoulders and your breathing slows and grows shallow. One of his hands slips beneath the neck of your nightgown, over your heart and into your bra. He pinches your nipple slowly, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. Gasping, your head falls back against his stomach and you reach a hand behind you to grab his thigh. He leans down and kisses your neck, sending shivers down your spine. The ring of the telephone jolts you both out of your reverie and he reluctantly releases you, with a final pinch to your nipple, to answer it. You follow after him, wrapping your arms around him from behind, loathe to be parted from him for even a few seconds. You can feel the same needy possessiveness creeping up, the feeling you had two weeks ago that led to you being bent over his leather-clad knee, getting the hell spanked out of you. You stand up on your tippy toes so you can reach his cheek, stroking his sideburn with your finger and tickling. He playfully ducks his head to try and dislodge you, tries to walk away, but you’re stuck to him like glue, moving in tandem wherever he goes.

“The car’ll be here in ten minutes, baby,” he says, hanging up the phone. “I gotta finish getting ready, can’t be late to this thing.” He gently but firmly disentangles you from him, sitting you on the bed where you cross your arms and glare at him while he finishes combing his hair.

“Don’t gimme that look, Queenie. I- you know I can’t take care of you right now. I would if I could but I can’t.” If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man just from the stare you're giving him from your perch on the bed. “Lord, woman, you're insatiable. Didn’t I just have you on the stairs this afternoon at my own damn house?” He shakes his head, amused and aroused and…proud. Your eyes travel down his body - the man is a vision in black: high-collared black shirt open at the neck just a respectable bit, fitted black pants hugging all the right places, right down to his smooth and shiny black Chelsea boots. Those boots are…hot. You remember seeing ones just like them, on display at Graceland. And the way he wears them…fucking hot.

“I could…polish your boots for you, Daddy. Make ‘em real shiny.” Your breathless words shock even you. “Every time you look down at ‘em tonight you’ll think of me and how you’re itchin’ to get back home to me. How I’ll be here on this bed, waiting for you to come and fill me up.” You drop to your knees in front of him, running your hands up and down his legs, thighs to boots and back again. You notice his pants are a little tighter then before in the crotch and you can see the outline of his hardening cock through the material. He’s never heard you talk like this, never heard you be so bold. He clenches his fists, you see his throat working and he grits his teeth, staring at the ceiling. You think you hear him mutter, “Lord, give me strength,” before he gently pulls you up by the shoulders and leads you to the bed. He sits on the edge and crosses one leg over the other as you quickly shuck your panties and sink to your knees again, straddling his foot. The smooth, cool leather of the boot on your already soaking heat is a new sensation. You move experimentally, one hand on his knee, the other on the bed beside him. It’s smooth, the usual kind of friction is absent and in its place a slick, burning heat. The more you move, the hotter the leather becomes.

“Go on, ride my boot honey, polish it on up,” he manages a shocked laugh, surprised by the turn of events but who is he to judge? You give him a withering look and he stops laughing once he sees the concentration on your face. He flex’s his foot up and down by the ankle, changing up your rhythm, bouncing you slightly. The movement jolts you a little and your grab onto his thighs to steady yourself. It hits a different spot, the pressure building, the burning sensation a mix of pleasure and pain. You’re holding on to his thighs now, looking up at him, desperate and so very close to the edge. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and whispers filthy sweet words and praise to you.

“That’s my good little girl, doing so good polishing Daddy’s boots. Makin’ ‘em so shiny for me. My little one who can’t even wait three hours for me, gotta have me right now, any part she can get her hands on. Goddamn, I love you, honey.” You both freeze as your breath catches in your throat and you stare at him, the blood rushing in your ears, drowning out all other sound for a moment. You’re shocked, utterly and completely. Did he just….did he just say he loves you? Before you can respond he says it again.

“I love you. I know that’s crazy,” he whispers, brow furrowed and eyes piercing yours. “I know we haven’t known each other very long at all. I can’t explain it but…I feel as if I’ve loved you for a long, long time.” You don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. He looks scared and nervous, like a little boy again. You lean up and kiss him - you can’t stop kissing him, breathing “I love you” in between each one, like a poem that only has three words. He flex’s his foot again, reminding you just how close you are to a sweet release. Slowly you drag your core up and down the slick top of his boot, your forehead pressed to his as you come, as he murmurs his love to you, over and over again.

—

While Elvis is at dinner you figure you might as well unpack a few things from your suitcase, no use in living out of it for the week if you didn’t have to. You take out another nightgown and place it in a dresser drawer in the guest room before removing a couple of dresses as well, shaking them out, trying to release some of the wrinkles that have settled in. Something white slips out from the folds and floats to the floor. You pick it up, turn it over. A receipt, from the vintage store where you acquired most of the things you brought with you. Your eyes run over the information before landing on the date of purchase - 07/07/2022. Suddenly the lights in the room start to flicker, off and on. Off and on. Your head feels heavy and as you fall you think, Is this what it feels like to die?

Your entire body is an earthquake. Something out of your control is happening, a frenetic vibrating that started in your core and is now radiating outwards. The adrenaline pumping through your veins is almost too much for your body to handle, your heart is beating out of sync and entirely too fast. Am I having a seizure, you wonder dimly, frozen where you lay, unable to move, your eyes refusing to open. If you could scream, you would, but you’re paralyzed, helpless to stop wave after wave crashing through your body. There’s a lightness in your head that’s clouding everything, scattering every thought, making it all hazy. It’s filling you up, every fiber, every cell, you’re more scared than you’ve ever been in your entire life. After what seems like an eternity, your body slowly comes down from the high and you stop shaking, eyes fluttering open, wiggling your fingers just to make sure you can move them.

You open your eyes to pale morning light and a cotton candy pink sky. The dewy warmth of the ground is already seeping into your clothes - your nightgown. How did you get outside? The last thing you remember is unpacking your clothes in the house you were staying in with Elvis. You feel…strange and weak. You lie there another couple of minutes, breathing and getting your bearings. The birds are chirping in the trees nearby and you can see some swooping and diving overhead as more light slowly fills the sky. You sit up shakily, and finally stand on unsteady feet. Like a punch to the gut, you realize that you’ve just been pulled away, unexpectedly, back to your own timeline. Away from Elvis, just when…oh god. Just when things were moving in a direction you hadn’t anticipated. He loves you. You double over in pain, almost falling to your knees again. You’ve got to get back to him, as soon as possible.

You walk through the trees, vision blurry from the tears you can’t seem to stop, unsure which direction you’re heading or where you even are but you can see fences in the distance, and horses. This looks like - are you at Graceland? How on earth did you end up here? You’re worried someone from the staff will see, worried you’ll get into trouble. You doubt they’ll take very kindly to a nightgown-clad woman wandering the private grounds in the early morning hours. You walk cautiously into the pasture where you see a lone figure standing at the fence, his back to you. Elvis. Oh…oh thank god. Thank heavens. Thank your lucky stars. You hadn’t gone anywhere, you’re still here. You feel as if you might sob uncontrollably but you hold it together as you break into a run, eager to explain, to tell him why you’d just disappeared like that, as if into thin air. He was so angry last time at the thought of you sneaking away, you’re unsure how he’ll react. The closer to him you get the more you slow your pace, catching your breath, preparing to beg, to plead, to do anything you can to make him understand you hadn’t wanted to leave him, hadn’t had a choice. Hell, maybe you’ll tell him the truth, let the chips fall where they may. What have you got to lose - it’s now or never, you won’t get another chance. Not with Elvis. Not after this. Almost there now, you’re so close, the peachy-pink early morning light envelopes his form and gives him an ethereal glow.

“Elvis.” Your voice is barely a whisper - a prayer, a plea, a vow. Your hand is reaching out for him, you can almost touch his white shirt, and he startles and turns around, spooked. You’ve scared him. You didn’t mean to. His face is pale and drawn, dark circles smudge the underneath of his eyes. The smile dies on your lips, you gasp and whip your hand back as if it’s been burned. Your mind struggles to keep up with what your eyes are seeing as they dart over his face, his body, taking in every detail, every nuance. Something isn’t right. His hair is shorter and his face…his face is full of promise and grief - so much sadness in his eyes. Tears stain his cheeks and he swipes at them hurriedly with the back of his hand, embarrassed, and gives you a wary look. You expect to see something in his face - happiness, surprise, anger…but…he doesn’t recognize you at all. That much is painfully clear. Your heart is beating too quickly, you can’t breathe. If you could only breathe a little easier. You sway a little, unsteady on your feet. His eyes are running over you, assessing you, assessing the situation. He reaches out a hand to steady you but you stumble backwards as tears sting your eyes. This isn’t your Elvis, the Elvis you left. The one standing before you is younger and beautiful, all chiseled features and swooping hair, lush full lips and smooth face. His clothes - his clothes are all wrong. Your eyes travel upwards as you take him in fully for the first time - white shoes on green grass, loose white slacks hang invitingly on his hips and a ruffled white shirt hugs his torso, short-sleeves exposing tan arms. You know this Elvis. Have seen those awful, heartbreaking photos of him and his father on the front steps of Graceland.

Just after his mother died…in 1958.

Oh. Oh no. This…this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Your breath leaves you altogether as you feel yourself start to spiral, darkness filling the edges of your vision. You remember the last time this happened, not so long ago, after meeting Elvis for the first time in 1968. You tilt backwards, sitting down hard just as he grabs your arms to break your fall. A wail leaves your lips as you realize you’ve lost your Elvis. If you’re here, in 1958, you don’t know if you’ll ever get back to him. Don’t know if you’ll ever get back home even. This Elvis is kneeling next to you, his mouth is moving but no words are coming out…and his eyes. Same shape, same vibrant blue color, same long eyelashes framing it all - but they’re no longer filled with love and longing and desire. Only grief and mild concern. As if of it’s own accord, your hand reaches out and gently cups his face, stroking his cheek, wanting to comfort him, knowing the pain he is in. Then the darkness engulfs you and you remember no more.

-

Tags: @meladollsims @godlypresley @jelliedonut @butlersxbirdy @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @powerofelvis

[sophierequests]

a deal is a deal // set it up part one

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Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

A/N: I have no words or reason for this fic. I watched the movie 'Set It Up' recently, and I just knew that I had to write a fic inspired by it. I didn't intend on indulging in it this much, but this fic will definitely be a two-partner since I have written almost 10K words and I can't possibly post that monstrosity in good conscience. I absolutely love the concept of matchmaking and fake dating, so consider this fic one huge clusterfuck of tropes I enjoy. And I hope all of you can enjoy it too <3

You can find part two here!

Summary: Wylan and Jesper are helplessly pining over each other, and everyone is starting to get sick of it. Especially Kaz and the reader seem to have suffered enough under their friends' behaviour. So of course, the only reasonable conclusion is to set them up.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5.0K

Warnings: Cursing, feelings, Kaz being a little bitch, pining, mention of his touch aversion

“Unless you saw someone cheat at Three Man Bramble, I don’t appreciate you spying on paying customers.” You were close to falling off your barstool when Kaz’s voice materialised beside you all of a sudden.

“For Saints’ sake, Kaz!” you hissed at the darkly-clad man leaning against the bar to your left, a certain look of amusement accentuating his features as he saw the way you panickedly held onto the counter. He shook his head at how easily startled you were. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that. I was dangerously close to knocking you out.”

He raised his brows, throwing a telling glance at his cane, and then back at you. Sneaking around wasn’t exactly his speciality. At least not during the main business hours of the Crow Club. He preferred to make his presence known.

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop prying?” Kaz repeated nervelessly when your eyes returned to the card’s table you had been staring at for about half an hour now. Not that he would know how long you had been sitting here. It’s not like he had been watching you during said half an hour. He had other - a lot more significant - tasks to tend to, rather than wasting his time by letting himself get distracted by you.

“Shush,” you silenced him quickly, craning your head slightly towards him to get a better view of your stalking victims. “I’m not spying on paying customers. I’m spying on Jesper and Wylan. That’s as far away from paying customers as it can get.”

“And why exactly would you do that?”

“Jesper went right to the gambling tables after we came back from the job earlier, and he has stayed there ever since. I assume you can guess who has been standing right next to him for just as long? Our little merchling is so in love, it’s painful to watch,” you whispered excitedly, completely ignoring the fact that Kaz was not one to necessarily care for dull relationship gossip.

“I should stop giving you this much time off if this is how you choose to spend it,” he grumbled, subtly following your gaze to watch the terribly awkward scene between the two Crows. Not because he genuinely cared about their immature ways of expressing their emotions, of course.

“Don’t be such a grump, Brekker,” you snorted, giving him a playful eye roll. “Admit it, they’d make such a cute couple! They could probably even compete with Nina and Matthias - don’t tell her I said that.”

“Judging by the fact that Zenik and Helvar were blood-sworn enemies before they fell into their…situationship, that won’t be such a difficult task.”

“See! You think they’d be a great fit too! What a shame one is just as oblivious as the other,” you sighed, twirling around the few remaining ice cubes that floated around in your drink.

“And you think staring them down will help ease their obliviousness?” Your head turned to face him fully, a mischievous glimmer present in your eyes. A glimmer he really didn’t like.

“Help me,” you blurted out.

“Help you with what?” he asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Oh, uhm, I have no concise plan yet since I thought you’d just immediately say no to me asking you for help. What I know is that I can’t watch them tiptoe around their feelings any longer. I need to do something. And you are precisely the right person to help me with that.”

“What exactly makes me the ‘right person’ to help you with getting these two idiots together?”

“Think about it. I’m Wylan’s best friend, you’re Jesper’s best friend - don’t you dare deny it! Together we can get all the intel - all the important information on how they feel about each other. It’s perfect! We could set them up and they wouldn’t even notice our involvement.”

“Absolutely not,” Kaz answered determinedly, choosing to not indulge in your childish games any longer. “As long as it’s not affecting their job performance, their relationship is none of my concern. I have more important things to do than worry about their problems with intimacy.”

“Come on, Kaz. Please?” you pouted as the man in question already shifted to head back to his office again.

“No, Y/N. They’ll be fine without our interference,” he tactfully ignored your overly dramatic plea.

“Alright, alright,” you mumbled, watching him leave with a hint of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’ll regret it eventually.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Jesper, you’ll need to- Jesper? Jesper, focus,” Kaz ordered, having to pry the sharpshooter’s eyes away from the window for what felt like the hundredth time today. He, Inej and the lovesick Zemeni boy had been working on the details of a minor upcoming job for over two hours, seemingly not making any noticeable progress. It was safe to say that this issue was instantly accredited to Jesper, whose mind appeared to be somewhere completely else.

Even though Kaz didn’t want to admit it, he did regret not taking you up on your offer of trying to get the two together. It had become more and more evident that they were too blind to see that their feelings were mutual, and Kaz was starting to get sick of it. Why couldn’t they just act on their feelings and spare everyone around them the pain of having to watch them act like insecure little kids? What did they have to lose? It was ridiculous, really.

Kaz knew that he was close to losing his patience. And his composure would jump out of the window soon after if things didn’t change.

“Sorry boss,” Jesper apologised hastily, sitting up a bit straighter and at least acting as if his attention was back on the mindless scribbles in front of him. “I was just a bit lost in thought. The…weather is so pretty today, after all.”

The weather in question was a mixture of dark gloomy clouds and the occasional rain shower - a typical day in Ketterdam, but definitely far from pretty. Maybe the weather that Jesper had in mind was ginger and able to play the flute, Kaz thought.

“We should probably leave this here,” he let out a huffed breath, meeting Inej’s confused glance.

“What? But the jo-”

“The job can only work if everyone is on the same page,” he interjected Jesper’s unnecessary attempt at defending himself. “You can leave - both of you. I’ll see what I can work out on my own.”

“Are you sure you won’t need any help with this?” the Suli girl asked hesitantly, waiting for her friend to give them another task instead of just letting them off the hook this easily.

“No, it’s fine. Go,” he nodded towards the door, his eyes following Jesper, who was already on his way out. Before Inej could do the same, he decided to give her one last task. “Inej? Tell Y/N to come up here in the next five minutes. I need to discuss something with them.”

“You wanted to see me, boss?” you questioned as soon as you entered Kaz’s semi-tidy office space. When Inej told you that he wanted to speak to you, your heart almost sunk to the bottom of your stomach. People being called up to speak to Kaz rarely ever got out with their dignity still intact.

“Sit,” he demanded, his gaze never leaving the papers on his desk as he motioned for you to sit in the chair across from him.

“Kaz, if this is about th-”

“Don’t start. Whatever you were about to tell me has probably not been brought to my attention yet, so I won’t allow it to occupy my mind until it pops up on its own. Now sit.”

You carefully obeyed his request, slowly sinking into the offered chair while your eyes still remained fixed on the man in front of you.

“He has become absolutely insufferable,” Kaz sighed, letting his fountain pen drop out of his hand and finally acknowledging your physical presence with a defeated glare. “I didn’t even think it was possible for him to become even more intolerable.”

“Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Who do you think I’m talking about? Our favourite bawdy flirt-gill has been acting like an infatuated teenage girl and it is driving me mad.”

“Oh! You’re talking about Jesper!” you let out a stifled laugh upon seeing his tired expression. “So you’re basically admitting that I was right about us having to intervene?”

“I’m merely admitting that there was some truth to what you were saying. Don’t get it twisted and don’t get used to it,” he corrected dryly. “And wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face. I didn’t call you up here to bask in your supposed victory.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do about it?” you replied sheepishly, fully aware that you were dangerously close to testing your limits.

“I’m agreeing to whatever you had in mind as long as it stops Jesper from acting like this.”

“Consider it a deal.”

“When I told you that I’m agreeing to whatever you had in mind as long as it stops Jesper from acting like a dotty puppy, I didn’t mean that you were allowed to barge into my office whenever you please,” your boss grumbled, watching you stumble through the door like you had one drink too many.

“Good morning, Kaz, it’s lovely to see you too,” you dismissed his very obviously spiteful remark, walking right up to the chair you had dubbed yours. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our two problem children and I had an idea.”

“Oh, so miracles do happen,” he jeered, letting himself lean back in his chair as he watched you get comfortable.

“With all due respect - which isn’t a lot - go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll consider it once you’re done telling me about that magnificent idea of yours.”

“Okay, so, Wylan just stopped me in the hallway to ask whether I want to get coffee with him next Friday.” A waterfall of words began to tumble out of your mouth, giving Kaz quite a few difficulties following what you were trying to say. “So, wouldn’t it be an absolute coincidence if Jesper would also go out for a coffee on Friday? It would be such a nice change of pace for them to spend time with…different people - other than us.”

“I am not asking Jesper to go get coffee with me,” Kaz replied laconically, giving you a dissatisfied look in an attempt to convey that he was not too fond of your musings.

“I am not asking you to get a coffee with Jesper - Saints, that man is going to think that you have a thing for him. We don’t even have to leave the Slat for this plan to work.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“Please explain to me again why specifically I have to join you on that job?” Jesper bemoaned as he followed Kaz down the stairs. He was not in the mood for playing his boss’ bodyguard today. He wasn’t even in the mood to leave the Slat. It didn’t help that a certain merchling had been occupying his mind for the entirety of last week, pushing every coherent thought to the furthest corner of his brain. “Can’t you ask Inej? Or Matthias? Or literally anyone else? Wait, why don’t you just ask Y/N? You two seem to be getting along surprisingly well recently.”

“Y/N is already busy,” Kaz objected skilfully. “And having a normal work relationship is not the same as ‘getting along surprisingly well’. Flush these thoughts out of your system immediately.”

“I’m just saying,” Jesper snickered, putting his hand up in front of him defensively.

“Kaz? Jesper?” your cheery voice greeted them as soon as they entered the living room area. Wylan and you had been lounging on the couch for quite some time now, simply chatting about life - and love, even though Wylan refused to give you too much information on his ill-fated crush. Of course, you had ulterior motives for staying that long, but your friend didn’t know that. “What are the two of you up to?”

"We have a job near Fourth Harbour," Kaz replied sternly.

"And he's forcing me to come with him," the sharpshooter groaned, his eyes drifting towards the timid boy sitting next to you, flashing him a cocky wink. "What are you up to? Whatever it is, it looks like a lot more fun than whatever Mister Ruin-My-Mood has in store for me."

"Jesper," Kaz warned, throwing you a quick glance, wordlessly asking you to take over.

"We wanted to head out for coffee and some sweet treats later," you mused, watching Jesper's expression turn sour.

"Won't you look at that, Kaz? This is what other friends do in their spare time," he grumbled.

"Hey, why don't you two just go and grab a coffee?" you offered, your gaze wandering between the two soon-to-be lovebirds.

"Us?" Wylan stammered, his finger pointing from him to Jesper, who looked equally as befuddled.

"Yes, you. Jes clearly isn't in the mood for going on a job today, and I haven't been on a proper one in ages," you suggested, giving your friends an encouraging smile.

"You genuinely want to join Kaz on a job with just the two of you? Like willingly?" the Zemeni boy joked, nudging your shoulder with his elbow.

"I'm sure I'll manage. Kaz?" You gave him an expectant look, watching as the ghost of a smirk flashed over his lips.

"Fine," he rasped, causing Jesper to break out into a wide grin, whilst Wylan looked a little short of horrified. "Maybe now we'll actually get some work done."

"And maybe we'll finally get some peace and quiet, won't we? I haven’t gone out just to get coffee in such a long time.” His attention turned to the young merch, whose head had turned as red as the soles of Jesper’s shoes.

“I’m sure you will have the loveliest of days,” Kaz deadpanned, gesturing for you to follow him outside into the hallway.

“Enjoy your day!” you called before quickly exiting the living room, leaving Wylan alone to deal with his crush. You could have sworn that he mouthed the word ‘help’ before you crossed the threshold to the corridor.

“That worked way better than I had expected,” he uttered, barely loud enough for you to hear his words clearly.

“I told you it would work,” you bragged, earning a disapproving headshake from the man standing next to you. “You’re not the only mastermind in this team.”

“So what’s the next step in your plan then?”

“We could just stay back here and wait for them to come back. I’m sure they’d tell us if something happened between them.” You locked eyes with him again, the intensity causing goosebumps to spread over his arms. “Or we could get out and follow them. Just to make sure that they’re alright of course.”

“I’m not following them.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kaz said as he watched you gape at Jesper and Wylan who were currently sitting on the terrace of the café you had pushed them to go to. You found a corner table at the bakery across from where your friends were sitting, giving you the chance to stay unnoticed while also being able to see whatever was going on between them.

“This is fun,” you hummed, leaning a bit further forwards to flash Kaz a cheeky smile, which was slightly hidden by the obnoxious fake roses in the middle of the table. “Don’t you want to see how this will turn out?”

“No.” You frowned at the impassive tone of his voice.

“You didn’t have to join me, Kaz.” He didn’t. He knew that. As a matter of fact, the pile of unfinished documents on his desk only seemed to get higher by the minute. Yet, against all his better judgement, he still abandoned his work in an instant just to go and see whether your plan was working or not. It was foolish to agree to it, however, for some reason, he still did. He was going insane - he was sure of it.

“I don’t trust you to not fuck this up on the first chance you get,” he stated after a short moment of him just staring at the empty space beside your head.

“You trust no one, yet I don’t see you holding Matthias’ hand whenever you let him go on a solo job - well, metaphorically holding his hand.”

Before Kaz could defend himself, the waitress approached your table, bringing over both of your drinks. She had a sickly sweet smile on her painted lips that made him want to bash his head onto the table. He resisted said urge in order to not make a scene though.

“I’ll assume the black coffee is for you?” the woman joked, eying Kaz’s grimly-looking outfit from head to toe, silently accepting the cup and placing it in front of him. She handed you the drink you had ordered and turned around to attend to the other guests. “Feel free to call me over in case you need anything else. Enjoy your date!”

Kaz almost choked on his own spit when he heard that. This was not a date. Not in a million years would he consider this a date. He attempted to seek some sort of confirmation that you shared his sentiment, but when he looked at your face, you didn’t even seem to care about the waitress’ atrocious assumption.

“What is it?” you inquired lowly on taking notice of his slightly bewildered expression.

“She thinks that this is a date. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“… No? Why should it have?” Kaz mentally thanked his luck that Nina wasn’t around. If she had been here to hear the way his heart was running wild she would have probably thought he had a heart attack.

“This is not a date.”

“Yes, I’m very well aware of that fact,” you let out a breathy chuckle in response to that. “And that’s exactly why it doesn’t bother me. I know that this isn’t a date. You know that this isn’t a date. So why should it matter what some random waitress thinks?”

“Oh…” For some odd reason, your answer disappointed him. This wasn’t a date, so you were right to say it. But something inside of him was beginning to make itself known.

“Oh no,” you muttered, your gaze back on the people you were actually here for. He did the same, regretting it immediately as he saw the uncomfortable scene playing out in the other café.

Wylan and Jesper were sitting across from each other at one of the tables on the terrace, giving you the perfect view of every interaction between them. But instead of them looking like the happy couple you had imagined they would be by now, Jesper was frantically collecting paper napkins, trying to help Wylan clean up the massive coffee stain that had formed a deep brown blotch on his previously neat beige sweater. And to make things even worse, the clumsy sharpshooter had taken matters into his own hands, pulling the flustered boy closer to him by the collar, whilst wiping a dry napkin over the mess he made - his face a mixture of despair and complete distress.

“Idiots,” Kaz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to spare himself the embarrassment of watching them any longer.

“Maybe we should put them in a situation they’re more acquainted with the next time.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of knocking?” He was close to jumping out of his skin when the door to his office flew open without a warning, only for it to be you standing on the other side with two cups of tea in your hands. He hastily caught himself, acting as if you hadn't just scared him shitless. It was way too late for any person with even an ounce of self-preservation skills to enter his space without giving him any sort of notice, but of course, you just had to be the exception.

“Are you familiar with the concept of locking your door if you don’t want to be disturbed?” you quipped, not waiting for him to give you permission to enter before waltzing right over to his desk. The mug was quickly placed in front of him and you threw yourself into ‘your’ chair.

“This may be the Barrel, but some of its inhabitants still possess the basic manners of announcing their presence when they intend to bother me in my own office.” Kaz eyed your offering suspiciously, pulling the cup towards himself as if he feared that you might have spiked its content. “What is this?”

“Tea?”

“I know that it’s tea. I'm not dense,” he said, a bit annoyed now.

“Then why are you asking?”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Kaz, you’re not a toddler. You know what to do when someone places a drink in front of you.”

“Why are you bringing me tea, Y/N?”

“That's an adequate question. I had another idea on how to get Jesper and Wylan to admit their feelings,” you began, enticing Kaz to internally question every single decision in his life that made him end up in this situation.

“And you needed to bring me tea to make me listen to that idea? You're either about to drug me into submission or you’re finally attempting to kill me.”

“Sadly neither - yet. But I had the idea while making tea. And I would have felt bad if I went up here without offering you something to drink too,” you replied meekly, a faint blush settling on your cheeks.

“I hope your idea isn’t tea-related. We shouldn’t bring the two dimwits near anything that's spillable anytime soon.”

"I solemnly swear there are no liquids involved in my idea. At least not explicitly," you assured.

"That better be the case. Let's hear it then," he muttered, begrudgingly taking a sip from his tea whilst waiting for you to collect your thoughts. It startled him how good the drink tasted. He hated that you knew exactly what tea he liked and how he liked to have it.

"You still haven't finished splitting us up in groups for the upcoming heist, have you?"

"If you hadn't dragged me along to play matchmaker, the plan would already stand," he grumbled, looking at the stack of blueprints he had yet to analyse for possible security risks.

"Then I'd like to make one suggestion. How about we - well, you - pair Jesper and Wylan together? We're all pretty familiar with jobs like this, so that shouldn't be an issue. Maybe having them work alongside each other could give their relationship just the push it needs."

Kaz looked like he was about to throw himself out the next best window. It was one thing that you had inserted yourself into the majority of his spare time like an unwelcome flu. Now you were also trying to insert yourself into his work? You were really trying to break him down to bits. And maybe he should let you.

"Please, Kaz. I'll even help you with all your boring preparation and mapping out. I genuinely think this could work," you put forward, knowing that the likelihood of him agreeing to this plan was close to non-existent.

"I'll allow it," he said, averting his eyes to look at basically anything else just to avoid letting them land on you.

"What?"

"Have you gone deaf? I said that I'll allow it," he repeated.

"Kaz, I swear to every Saint you don't believe in, I'm so close to kissing you - you’re amazing!" you exclaimed jokingly, a wide grin on your face.

"Do it and find out what ditch you'll end up in," he threatened, but you were too excited to care about the murderous look on his face.

After almost a week of scheming, scheduling and planning in the security of Kaz’s office, you had finally managed to put together a plan that would ensure two things. The success of the job. And the fact that Jesper and Wylan would be staying at each other’s side the whole time.

“I think we can pull this off,” Kaz muttered, visibly still very much in thought.

“You think we can pull this off?” you asked, absent-mindedly twirling one of his pens around your fingers.

“No.” He swiftly snatched it back, putting it down and giving you a self-assured grin. “We will pull this off.”

A few days later, all the Crows had gathered in the cramped attic space, more or less eager to hear about the plans for the upcoming mission.

“Please don’t tell me that we’ll have to go through all of these blueprints again,” Jesper whined as he saw the stack of layout plans that sat at the edge of Kaz’s desk. They had been on jobs in the University District before, so the quite hefty pile of blueprints wasn’t completely unknown to them. More than one evening had been spent slaving over them, spying out every minuscule detail that could give them any sort of advantage. But these plans were new - updated. And everyone dreaded having to do the whole ordeal of looking at them for a second time.

“Y/N and I already went through them, the annotations should suffice. Not much has changed,” Kaz answered, unaware of the suspicious glances his nonchalant comment created. It was well known that you avoided mapping out blueprints like the plague, so this revelation did raise some brows.

“Y/N and you?” Nina and Jesper blurted almost synchronously. They had noticed your absence from their usual evening get-togethers, simply chalking it up to you being under the weather or something. What they hadn’t expected was you sneaking away from them because you went to spend time with the Bastard of the Barrel. Now that they knew the latter had been the case, they had some certain thoughts on what the reason for these nightly visits might be - none of them strictly work-related.

“Congratulations, you have a basic understanding of auditory information processing. Yes, Y/N and I.” Kaz allowed his gaze to shift towards you. It felt odd to not have you sit in front of him, energetically discussing plans and ideas while the noise of Ketterdam’s streets seemed to have fully vanished underneath the sound of your voices. He hated to think that way, but he had grown used to having you around. Whether it be you staggering into his office to propose another utterly insane plot to get your friends to date, or just you keeping him company with whatever talk you could offer. The thought of this routine being ripped away from him once Jesper and Wylan realise their feelings are reciprocated filled him with more dissatisfaction than relief.

“Since when does Y/N care for analysing blueprints?” The Heartrender asked slyly.

“I don’t. It was my forfeit,” you replied before Kaz could. “We had a bet on how much money Jesper would be able to lose in a span of three days. Let’s just say that Kaz really does know you better than I do, Jes.” A lie. A good lie, Kaz thought. The only reason why you would spend your evenings talking to him would probably be the loss of a bet. But that didn’t make the pull on his heartstrings hurt any less.

“Rude,” the sharpshooter pouted.

“Anyway,” Kaz deflected, returning to his actual intention of this meeting. “We also took the liberty of assigning groups and tasks. So I’d advise you to listen carefully.” He adjusted the paper in his hands, letting his eyes fly over your jagged handwriting for the millionth time. “Helvar will pose as a guard - big and brawny with little to think about. One would say it’s the perfect fit.” Matthias let out a dissatisfied grunt at that comment. “Nina and Inej will keep an eye on who leaves, and who enters. And if there is anything suspicious you will alert me.” The two girls gave him a court nod, content that they were able to work together again. “I will attend as a guest. It’ll give me enough time and trust to hopefully get some information on the new ware shipments that are supposed to arrive the week after the ball. Our main objective is getting intel. Any other material acquisitions are just perks. And finally Wylan and Jesper.” The two boys stared at Kaz with an uncomfortable expression. He had never paired them up before. Why was he starting now? “Since the majority of university personnel will be present at the ball, you’ll take care of breaking into the administration’s office. I need some precise data on the involvement of the Council in sponsoring the university.”

“What about Y/N?” A brief pause followed Inej’s simple question.

After all these hours of planning, you had forgotten to add yourself to the equation. You had been so focussed on giving the two lovebirds some alone time that your absence went completely unnoticed. Both of you felt utterly stupid. How could you have missed that?

“They’ll be my date,” Kaz answered a bit too quickly, not letting the thudding of his heart betray his stone-faced expression.

“My condolences.” Matthias gave you an apologetic but calm look, whilst everyone else in the room seemed to be utterly shocked by their boss’ comment. Even you had to suppress the state of absolute shock that had threatened to spread over your face when he referred to you as his ‘date’. Saints, he himself didn’t believe the words that had just slipped out of his mouth.

“I’ll need someone to chat with the merchant spouses, or else I’ll lose my mind. Their presence can buy me enough time to get the information I need,” he explained, but the majority of his friends were too busy interpreting way too much into this situation to acknowledge his reasoning.

Maybe choosing Jesper as a partner would have been easier on his poor heart.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

[svechnikovvv]

lights up

pairing: andrei svechnikov x fem!reader

warnings: sensitive topics

summary: maybe being vulnerable isn’t that bad

a/n: writers block has been kicking my ass 😫 i’m so sorry guys

series masterlist: here

it’d be so sweet if things just stayed the same / runnin’ through my heart / do you know who you are?

being vulnerable was the most foreign feeling in the world. it felt like spiders crawling on your skin. it was the worst.

but if there was anyone in the world who understood how you felt, it was andrei. your andrei.

“y/n?” you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of that familiar russian accent. you don’t know when he answered the phone, or how long you’d been spaced out for, but you could hear the worry in his voice.

“yeah, uh, you got a sec?”

andrei knew you didn’t like talking about your feelings. maybe it was how whenever you came over to rant to him, you’d always play with the rings on your fingers. or maybe it was how you’d avoid eye contact. whatever it may be, andrei knew you.

the big guy was known to be a bit ditzy and aloof, but that was never the case when he was around you. he became attentive and listened to everything you had to say. he always noticed every little change you made.

his teammates like to think that he likes you. which, wasn’t a lie. anybody could see how much andrei adored you. he was pure putty in your hands. pyotr loved to ask him, “is y/n the only thing in your vocabulary?” which would always earn him a glare.

everyone knew from the first time you came around, that andrei was completely head over heels for you.

***

you won’t lie, you got a little lost trying to figure out where to go for this morning skate thing. andrei said occasionally they’ll let fans come in and watch and today was one of those days. so you decided to see how they ran things when they weren’t going at other hockey players’ throats.

you found a seat somewhere near the ice and settled down, watching the guys zoom around and joke with one another. you probably should’ve brought a hoodie because you were starting to get a bit chilly. you started to zone out a bit before you heard some taps on the glass. you look and see andrei standing there with a big smile.

“y/n, i didn’t think this was your- what is that phrase you people use?”

“cup of tea?” he nods and you softly laugh “yeah, well, i was getting tired of staring at the same walls and decided to see what you do behind the scenes.” andrei laughs and points to a door and he skates off. you get up and walk over in that direction and he’s already standing by it, running his fingers through his hair.

he engulfs you in a hug, resting his chin on your head.

“you’re warm,” you mumble, making him softly laugh.

“are you cold?” he pulls back and looks at you. “why didn’t you bring a jacket?” you shrugged

“hold on. i’ll go get you a hoodie.” you watched as he walked through a door and returned five minutes later. he was holding his black canes hoodie that he’d seem to always be wearing whenever he came over. he handed it to you and you took it, muttering a thanks and slipping it over your head. it was a bit big on you, but andrei was a growing man, so of course it was.

“that better?” you nodded and he gave you a soft, dimply smile.

“what’re you gonna wear when you change?”

“i’m from russia, the cold doesn’t bother me.” you roll your eyes

“okay show off.” he laughs

“how long are you gonna stay and watch?”

“score me a hatty and then i’ll go.” he nods, always up for a challenge and walks back through the door and onto the ice. you make your way back to your seat and andrei’s cologne on his hoodie hits you instantly. you felt safe.

andrei skates around a bit and manages to get a goal past pyotr, who you knew because andrei mentioned him so many times, and he throws his arms up in triumph. he looks over at you and you give him a thumbs up. he continues to try his best again and again and it takes him a while before he makes his second one.

he then skates over to in front of you and he’s panting.

“you see that one?” he managed to do a wrap-around shot and make it in.

“i did, drei. you move as smooth as butter.” he smiles wide and skates back to the puck. like the second goal, it takes him a while to get the third. when he does though, he points at you and you’re clapping. he’s laughing and skates back over to you.

“there’s your hatty. every goal was for you.” you place a hand over your heart.

“i feel so honored.” you stand up and walk back over to the little door and andrei meets you.

“i was thinking of making your favorite tonight. you want to come over later?” he nods

“yes, whatever you want i’m fine with.” he gives you a goodbye hug and you walk off and back to your car, still clad in his hoodie.

back on the ice, andrei skated over to his teammates to see them all looking at him.

“who’s the mystery girl, svech?”

“that’s my best friend y/n.”

“i don’t believe it. you’re in love with her.” andrei could feel his face heat up and be just rolled his eyes and skated off.

“that doesn’t answer anything!” sebastian called out

everyone knew right then that you were more than just his “best friend.”

***

it only took him two months after that incident for him to realize that they were right, he was in love with you.

“i always have a second for you, krasivaya.” he always loved to slip russian in his sentences and never tell you what it meant.

“drei, i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” his brows furrowed because did you mean? he thought you were perfect in every way possible.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve been so irritable lately. it’s like, everything i do, i piss myself off. i can’t stand to look at myself either. everyday just feels like a repeat of the day before. i don’t even feel like myself, anymore.” somewhere in your rant, you started to cry. andrei has only seen you cry once, so he knew this was serious.

“don’t move, i’ll be there in five minutes.” you stayed in the same spot you were in, and sure enough, five minutes pass and andrei’s letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. he sees you sitting on the couch with your knees tucked into your chest and he pulls you into his lap. you cry into his shoulder as he rubs your back soothingly.

“it’s okay, let it all out.”

“i’ve been feeling like such a burden lately. i miss when i was younger and didn’t care about anything. why couldn’t things just stay the same?” you hiccuped a bit and andrei continued to rub your back.

“caring is good. it shows you have feelings. it may not always feel good or have good outcomes, but to me, it shows me that you have a kind heart. and you’re nowhere near a burden, y/n. so many people love you and care about you.” he places a kiss on the side of your head.

“you’re not alone on this, okay? your problems are my problems. and i know that telling me this might’ve been hard for you, but you did it, yes? i’m very proud of you.”

“i love you.” you whisper and he’s carding his fingers through your hair.

“i love you too, y/n.” you sit up and shake your head.

“no drei. i love you. as in, more than a best friend.” andrei places his hands on either side of your face.

“malyshka, i‘ve loved you since you came to the morning skate years go.” he closes the gap between the two of you and you can taste the mint gum he must’ve previously been chewing on. the two of you pull apart and andrei’s looking at you with a fondness in his eyes.

sure, being vulnerable felt like being on a stage with spotlights blinding you from every direction, but maybe stepping into the light wasn’t so bad. it gave you andrei, and that’s the best reward you could ever ask for. you’re never going back now.

tags: @starsandhughes @liquidflyer @drei-mrssvechii @angzls @goldenbrokenheart

a/n: having mixed emotions about this 👎

[juanarc-thethird]

What can I get you? Part 5

After the little incident that happened at the drive-thru and the revelation that Jaune has female fans. Bleiss has taken the time to investigate who are the girls who want to take her man away from her. Right now she is sitting on the farthest chair in the room. she wears a raincoat, a large scarf on top of her head, some sunglasses, and she is drinking a soda.

Weiss: Bleiss, what are you doing?

Bleiss turns her head in surprise and sees her sister in uniform sweeping the floor next to her table.

Bleiss: How did you know it was me?! I use this outfit to go unnoticed.

Weiss: It's a good outfit, but nobody in their right mind would come to eat at a fast food restaurant wearing Prada.

Bleiss: You're right, I would have worn Louis Vuitton.

Weiss: My God. What are you doing sitting here? Aren't you going to flirt with my Jaune?

Bleiss: Your Jaune?

Weiss: You heard me.

The two girls glare at each other for a moment but Bleiss stops and takes a deep breath.

Bleiss: I'm sorry sis, but I don't have time to fight with you right now. I have to know who are the admirers who want to take my Jaune from my arms.

Weiss: You are wasting your time. Most of his fans are older women who flirt with him for fun. Nothing serious.

Bleiss: Ok, and the rest?

Weiss: The rest are… what would you call them?… they are... aggressive in their own unique way.

Bleiss: So they like to go on the offensive. My respects, not many women dare to take the first step.

Weiss: I wouldn't feel that way about them. Look at them first and then tell me if you like them or not.

Bleiss: Whatever. Since you work here. What time will the first bitch arrive?

Weiss: *Looks at her watch* It will arrive at any moment. She works at the bookstore near here. Her name is Blake.

Bleiss: She works at a bookstore? Ha! I bet she looks like a nerd. With braids and a hideous sweater.

Weiss: Here she comes.

The front door of the restaurant opens and a beautiful girl with black hair appears. She is wearing a dark blue button down blouse, and her sleeves are up to her elbow. The collar of the blouse was round, the buttons were dark silver. She also wears a brown skirt with lines that make a square pattern. Dark blue stockings and brown boots the same color as the skirt. She also wears a brown beret. Her figure was that of a model, long legs, a small waist, and a generous chest. But what stood out the most about her was her huge ass. Bleiss, she couldn't believe it.

Bleiss: Holy shit! How can a bookstore girl be so hot?

Weiss: And wait till you see how she flirts with Jaune.

At the counter

Blake: Hey Jaune~

Jaune: Hi Blake, how have you been?

Blake: After seeing you, I feel excellent today. And you?

Jaune: So so. What can it get you?

Blake: Did you read the book I lent you?

Jaune: That's not on the menu, but I did read the book.

Blake: Did you like it?

Jaune: I liked it, but I would like it more if you told me what you are going to order.

Blake: Do you want to act a few scenes with me? Especially the spicier parts~

Jaune: So you'll order the usual. Got it.

Blake: What do you say, you want to be my hero tonight?~

Jaune: Here is your order. A fish sandwich with extra mayonnaise, fries, and an iced raspberry tea. Anything else?

Blake: *Smiles* You~

Jaune: I'm sorry miss, but that's not on the menu.

Blake: Tease *Swipes her card and pays* One of these days I'll convince you. See you later Jaune~ *wink*

She takes the food and goes to sit at one of the empty tables.

Bleiss: Huh, she went for the kill, she's good. But she is not good like me.

Weiss: Says the girl who is still trying to get a date.

Bleiss: Shut it. Also, the way you talked about her, I thought they she would be more dangerous.

Weiss: Is not over.

Blake then comes back to the counter.

Blake: Jaune, there's something wrong with my food.

Jaune: I'm sorry to heard that, what's wrong?

Blake removes the bread from the top of the sandwich and points with her finger.

Jaune: I don't see anything out of the ordinary.

Blake: Look closely.

Jaune: *Gets closer* I see nothing.

Blake: Closer

Jaune: I still see nothing.

Blake: *Slowly move the sandwich towards her* Just keep looking.

Jaune: *follows the sandwich* I could see it better if you stopped moving the sand-!

Without warning Blake used a free hand to hold Jaune's face and she lick his cheek.

Jaune: *Surprised and blushing* Blake!

Blake: That was what was wrong. Something sweet was missing.

As an embarrassed Jaune retreats to the staff room, Weiss and Bleiss were shocked. Weiss knows Blake is bold, but this is the first time he's seen her do this.

Bleiss: She just lick my Darling!

Weiss: Normally she kisses his cheek. This is the first time she has done this!

Bleiss: She normally kisses his cheek?!!! *Angry* That's it, I'll tell that girl to leave my man alone!

Bleiss was about to stand up, until the restaurant doors are flung open and a loud voice fills the room.

Yang: I'm starving!

A girl with light skin and blonde hair draws attention in the room. She has her hair in a ponytail. She wears a white sleeveless top and on top of that she wears a black leather jacket. She is also wearing some gray jeans, black boots, and a pair of sunglasses that she still hasn't taken off her face. But what bothers Bleiss the most is that she has huge tits, as big as two melons if she can describe it like that.

Bleiss: Who is this loud bitch?

Weiss: Shit, she came early. Her name is Yang.

Bleiss: She's another admirer?

Weiss: Yes. She is a boxing coach in the afternoons for her father's gym. She usually arrives later. I hope she doesn't cause trouble.

Bleiss: Huh?

Yang: Now where is my Lover Boy?!

Bleiss: Lover Boy?

Weiss: That's what she calls Jaune.

She looks around the restaurant and sees Jaune coming out of the staff room to clean some tables.

Yang: *Smiles* I found you~

She walks up to him, spanks him, and she leaves her hand there.

Jaune: Hey!

Yang: *She takes off her sunglasses* Hello Jaune, you look delicious as usual~

Jaune: Yang, I told you not to do that!

Yang: You say that but I know you love it~

Jaune: *A little upset* Yang....

Yang: What's wrong, your work has you stressed? I have an idea. How about we go out for a couple of beers after your shift is over? *She hugs his arm and presses her chest against it* And if that isn't enough, we can go to my apartment to hang out~ What do you say?

Jaune: Thanks, but I have to decline your offer. I have an exam the next day.

Yang: In that case, let's both go straight to my place and I'll help you relax.~ I assure you that you will wake up as a new man and ready for the exam.

Jaune: Tempting but I have things to do today besides studying.

Yang: I can give you a hand *Show him a little bit of cleavage* and maybe more~

Bleiss: I will kill that bitch!!

Weiss: *Stops her* Wait, don't get your hands dirty. Let nature take its course.

Bleiss: The fuck?! What the hell does that mean?!

Weiss: Just watch.

Jaune: Thanks for the offer, but I have-

Blake: *Hugs jaune's other arm* Better things to do than be with a cow like you.

Yang: Hi Blake, always so sweet. How are you, alone as always?

Blake: Alone with my dear Jaune. We are very close.

Jaune: I wouldn't say close, more like acquaintances.

Yang: It seems that Lover boy here does not like to be with you. Why don't you go away and let him have fun with a real woman.

Jaune: Actually, I'd rather go back to work.

Blake: Jaune you are always responsible. That's something I like about you~

Yang: Calm down kitty. Jaune, have you been exercising? Your arms feel stronger and more muscular~

Blake: *She lets go of his arm* Why don't you go eat a salad somewhere else? You're already top heavy, you don't want to put more weight on your stomach.

Yang: *She also lets go of his arm* Listen to your own slut advice. Have your hips always been so big or is it because of all the food you swallow like a pig?

Blake: Are you still upset because your mom doesn't love you? poor thing

Yang: How about your ex boyfriend? He's still in that terrorist cult?

Blake: Shut the fuck up!

Yang: Make me, you whore!

The two girls started hitting each other. They pulled their hair, they scratched each other, and they gave each other some good blows here and there. Everything was going from bad to worse until the manager appeared.

Junior: What's going on here?! *He looks at the fight.* Hey! Yang, Blake, break it up or I kick you both out of my restaurant!

The two girls stop and each go their own way. Blake to sit down to eat and Yang to order her food.

Junior: Jaune, I need you to take out the trash.

Jaune: Yes sir.

Junior: Thanks. *Leaves*

Jaune leaves, heading to the back of the kitchen for the trash.

Bleiss: Why Junior didn't kick them out right away? I am going to talk with him.

Weiss: Sister wait. You can't kick them out.

Bleiss: Why not? It is our family restaurant. We can do that.

Weiss: Yes, but...

Bleiss: But?

Weiss: They... They are my friends.

Bleiss: You are friends with the enemy?!!

[kdramedies]

Oh In-joo, while naive in the context of the story we are being told, is not an idiot. In the first few episodes In-joo is established as someone who is resourceful, competent at her job, and a good sister. She always makes sure there’s a roof over her family’s head, food in their bellies, and tries to make sure that they’re (mainly In-hye) safe and happy. In-joo is really good at being poor. Which is why I don’t understand all of the comments I keep seeing calling In-joo an idiot or complaining that she’s too stupid so the show is “un-feminist” (whatever that means [does that mean women aren’t allowed to be a little dumb sometimes? Seems pretty un-feminist for women to be put into a box like that...]). Like, why the fuck would someone who has been dirt poor all their life suddenly be amazing in the world of money, murder, and politics? The first thing In-joo did with 2 billion won was buy name brand ice cream. That’s how poor she’s been throughout her life, corner store ice cream was her big first splurge (and it was on sale!). Some of her scenes have been played to add a bit of levity to such a dramatic show, the “hands up” scene is one of my favourites, but again, those scenes are of her experiencing situations that she’s never had cause to even wonder about before. I’ve certainly never thought about the bounds of plastic surgery, and if faced with a gun, I fully believe I would wet myself. But In-joo, someone who is earnest and takes things at face value, is somehow managing to survive in this world of lies and backstabbing she’s been thrown into. Some of it is dumb luck, some of it is Do-il saving her neck, but some of it is her. And I don’t just mean her badass moment in Singapore. Her resilience, her earnestness, her optimism and kindness. Every choice she’s made has contributed to the fall of the Jeongran Society. Her additions to their rag-tag team go largely unnoticed since she’s not unearthing the story behind it all like In-kyung, or a former inside man like Do-il, but In-joo is the one who has the mastermind behind all of this shaken. And it’s not just because this all started with Sang-a’s obsession with In-joo. Sang-a thought she knew In-joo, but like a lot of viewers, she didn’t know who In-joo would become. She thought In-joo would do anything for money, but instead In-joo would do anything for her family and her best friend, even after learning that their friendship was a lie. She didn’t know that behind her naivete In-joo was strong; stronger than her. Sang-a may be more confident, conniving, and quick-witted, but she can’t handle things not going her way. In-joo on the other hand, has never had anything go her way and as a result is more adaptable and quicker to bounce back.

This entire show is about classism and the ways that it divides us, schooling and intelligence is one of them. Without Hyo-rin’s family In-hye wouldn’t have had the opportunities they gave her. Without their great aunt, In-kyung wouldn’t have gone to university. But In-joo didn’t have anyone to give her a helping hand. People who are looking down on her character for being an “idiot” are only proving one of the points the drama is trying to make. If you’re poor, you’re considered unintelligent, if you’re considered unintelligent then people can treat you like garbage and get away with it. But Oh In-joo is done letting people get away with it.

[ofnightshadeandthornyroses]

Of Those That are Sanguinary    Pt.2

Eager to shed blood; bloodthirsty.

Detailed descriptions of a murder scene and body.

It's The Lost Boys. That should probably be expected.

"Here!"

Laddie yells from Dwaynes bike and they come to a stop just under the boardwalk with the smell of blood in the air stronger than before mixing with an intoxicating scent.

Laddie gets off the bike and starts walking a fast pace towards the smell.

Dwayne caught up to Laddie facing him and telling him to go watch the band currently on stage.

"Why can't I help?"

"Not this time bud. We don't what's up there, okay? Go watch the show."

"Can I get a new ice cream?" "Yeah." "Alright!"

He ran off and they went onwards.

— • —

The sight in front of them left them in various states.

Marco and Paul were obviously drooling with starstruck expressions while David looked more amused and Dwayne interested.

There was the question of who did this?

Who took this man and skinned him? Who recreated him? Revived him.

The man, or well used to be, was skined. That skin was pinned to him and together in the shape of bats wings. Scraps of skin were thrown to the side it seemed, the peices cut to make divots in the wins.

Paul fell to his knees dramatically, Marco soon following after.

"Oh fffuck. This has to be for us. It's to beautiful." Paul says with a dreamy look.

"Someone here finally has a sense of art!" Marco says, spread fingers lightly touching the wings.

David takes the newly lit cigarette out of his mouth to speak."Not a thought in your head questioning who did this, huh? Who might be in our territory?"

Something shiny catches Paul's eye. As he shuffles towards it he see it's small and black with red, ruby eyes. It's a bat. He picks it up and Oh the smell coming off of this small thing. Now being able to differentiate the intoxicating smell from the blood, he knows. That pretty babe from the boardwalk.

He woops and jumps up going to David.

"Looky what I found!"

David picks it up and recognizes first, while Paul caught your eyes the bat caught his while he was scoping you out. Then the smell hit him. An intoxicating smell that was the same as yours and all over the area. All over the body. " Ooo I wanna see!" Marco reached over with his blood spotted hands but David batted him away. "Blood, Marco. You'll get that pests smell on it."

Marco sulks back over to the body.

"Do you think the girl did this?"

David's eyes lock with Dwaynes as uses the link.

"It's a possibility. I don't smell anyone else here. Even Laddies smell is basically nonexistent at this point. Laddie said her name didn't he?" "YN. A beautiful name. Fits." Marco joins into the telepathic conversation. "Guys? There's a bone missing. Like, an entire bone."

Them as well as Paul, who had been listening in, go over to Marco and see that there in fact was a bone missing.

How they missed that before, they don't don't know but now that they see it it's obvious the right thigh is missing its skeletal structure.

"What would she need a bone for?" Paul crouched down, scratching his head.

"What wouldn't you need it for? There's so many things you can do with bones!" Marco nudged his shoulder and gets ip looking towards David. "So where do we go from here?"

"Disposal." He states taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Ack- disposal!? Just like that!? Can't we like dry him out or something?"

David tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Marco,"No."

"A picture! A picture!" Marco rushed taking out his Polaroid from the bag attached to his bike proceeding to take pictures of the proclaimed peice of art before him.

"Now we can have at 'em."

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

You walked under the boardwalk hoping to find an empty section of beach or at the very least not get spotted in nothing covering you but undergarments and mesh, ones covered in blood at that, as well as a very incriminating object.

A little ways back you could hear the sound of bikes stopping and your body decided it wanted feel as if a string was a attached, saying hey let's look. We wanna know. We should  know. That's when you decide to quickly and quietly haul ass away from where you came.

Thankfully you only had to dodge one couple making out and hide behind pillars until you got far enough from them to keep on going peacefully.

Eventually you made it to a part that was mostly empty except for a few strays that dotted the beach sparingly. Thankfully it was mostlikely after midnight on a school night in fall and tourists were mostly gone until Christmas or summer.

Stripping out off you mesh top and fish nets so that any one that saw you would think it was a bikini. You came out from under the boardwalkand, covering the trophy as much as possible, and headed straight for the water hoping the dim lighting and distance would be enough for someone to miss you looking like a massacre.

You dropped your shorts and jacket on the sand, keeping hold of your mesh garments, and step into the water. You head into the the water, stopping until you were covered from the shoulders down and began squeezing out the mesh and ultimately using it to help scrub of blood from you body.

It's been so long. All it took was one child bullying asshole and here you were. A memory surfaces of another life, a past life. A different state with police that were getting too close to the truth for comfort.

After cleaning up and wiping down the femur bone you kept, you went back on land grabbing your clothes and hiding bone.

Making your way back under the boardwalk you glance both ways and stall. In the distance you see four large figures in the sky, looking to be carring something, mostlikely prey back to a nest.

Those are some damn big birds.

[leejungchans]

trial and error : k.mg

word count | 2.9k

pairing | kim mingyu (svt) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour (a lil), barista au

summary: three times mingyu tries to ask you out and fails and the one time he actually succeeds… though not without some help.

a/n: can’t have a valentine’s day/season without a present to my very seggsy wifey @seungcy 💗 heyyy babe happy very belated valentine’s day 😻 i hope you like this very little something i wrote about the man you always cheat on me with /j luv u hottie muah muah :hehecat:

PHASE 0

Mingyu thinks you might just be the cutest person he’s ever seen when you walk in. It’s like a scene pulled straight from a K-drama: dreamy music playing in his head as the bell chimes above your head with your arrival, your eyes twinkling with anticipation while you look around the café before flashing a smile at him and—

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly how it played out. He caught a glimpse of you before you promptly disappeared behind the growing queue of customers waiting to have their order taken. He’s instantly reminded of all the times Wonwoo teased him about his tendency to fall in love with strangers easily, but that’s not going to stop him from developing a crush on you. Maybe you really will be the one this time! Who knows?

So when you walk up to the counter, his palms are already starting to get sweaty. God, you look so cute with your pink beret.

“Good morning!” you greet cheerfully, “can I get an iced latte to go, please?”

“Sure,” Mingyu says plainly because he doesn’t trust himself not to blurt out something painfully uncool to you, “cash or card?”

You’re either unfazed or unaware of his monotonous attitude, still smiling brightly at him as you answer the latter and hold your card to the reader. You move over to the waiting zone with your receipt, oblivious to the distress you’ve caused Mingyu from your fingers touching when he handed you the slip of paper. His heart hammers as he watches your back profile, eyes lingering on the cute pins on your backpack—how much more endearing can you get? he wonders to himself, a smile tugging at his lips as the Pikachu hanging from your bag bounces with every step.

The customer after you clears their throat, and with a fiery hue spread across his cheeks, Mingyu tears his attention away from you with a sheepish grin. That usually does the job; even the most peevish patrons find it hard to stay annoyed with him even when he's looking at them like that.

“Sorry about that, what would you like to order?”

PHASE 1

“You sure this isn’t just another one of your three-day crushes?”

“Yes!” Mingyu whines, looking up from the table he’s been wiping down with a damp rag. “It’s been more than a week and the last time she came in we actually had a conversation! And at least this time I know her name!”

“That’s a start,” Wonwoo agrees, “what did you guys talk about?”

Mingyu’s eyes practically shine when he whirls around to face his best friend. “She told me she moved out of her university dorms to live with a roommate, and that she started coming here because it’s on the way to the bus stop.”

“The one a few blocks down?”

“I think so?” Mingyu hums as he secures his apron around his waist, ready to start another busy shift. Despite the early hour, on a Monday no less, he finds himself looking forward to the morning rush, because even seeing you for just a few minutes brings the brightest of smiles to his face.

Wonwoo observes quietly as his friend giddily takes his place behind the counter. Sure, Mingyu’s had countless crushes on customers in the past, but he’s never seen him as smitten for one as you. He’s refilling the straw holder when Mingyu speaks again.

“I’m gonna do it.”

Wonwoo pushes his glasses further up his nose bridge. “Do what?”

“Ask Y/N out,” Mingyu says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “For coffee or something, so we can get to know each other.”

“You’re gonna ask her out for coffee��� when you’re already working at the café she goes to?”

Huh, he has a point. “Then… I’ll let her pick! Yeah, that’s it!” He then falls silent for several beats before his voice comes out slightly shaky. “You don’t think someone would suggest rock-climbing or bungee-jumping for the first date… right?”

Wonwoo snorts. “Probably not. But I’d focus on asking her out for now if I were you.”

“Pft, it’ll be easy.”

Spoiler alert—it’s not. Because the moment you walk up to the counter with your usual cheery smile, the short spiel Mingyu had come up with all but disappeared from his mind, and he’s once again reduced to a tongue-tied mess before you.

“Are you okay?” you ask, peering at him curiously after noticing his shifting, nervous gaze as he punches in your order.

“Y-Yeah! Everything’s fine!” Mingyu squeaks, gesturing for you to tap your card. “Don’t worry about me! Everything’s just fine!”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Wonwoo glance over at him, his expression wholly unimpressed as though to say “as if anyone’s gonna be convinced”.

“O…kay, well… thanks, Mingyu!” You don’t seem to be offended, perhaps just a little confused, by his odd behaviour as you take your receipt and begin moving aside for the next person in line, but it still has guilt and panic sinking deep into his gut like a ton of bricks.

“W-Wait!”

Your widened eyes blink owlishly at his sudden outburst. “Hm?”

Mingyu blushes, the rosy pink tint on his cheeks now rapidly spreading to his ears. “I—I was j-just wondering if… uh…if…”

“If…?”

“If you also wanted a blueberry muffin, they’re fresh out of the oven,” Mingyu finishes lacklusterly, already mentally slapping himself.

“Oh! Sure!”

And as he watches you tap your card against the reader once again for your added purchase, the disappointed sagging of his shoulders having gone unnoticed, he wonders what had deluded him into thinking this would be anything near easy.

PHASE 2

“You’re going to what?”

Pointedly ignoring the disbelieving look Wonwoo sends him, Mingyu ushers him aside as he takes your cup and the milk frothing pitcher from him.

“I’m doing the latte art,” he finally responds before adding as an afterthought, “only for Y/N’s though, I don’t think I’m capable of doing more.”

“Yeah, because there’s a reason why Seungcheol put me in charge of the hot lattes for our shifts.”

He’d really rather not be reminded of the questionable foam design he made that led to such a decision from their supervisor. “No, it’s because I want to channel all my energy into just her cup.”

“Right…” Wonwoo says skeptically, but relents and steps aside anyway because he’s a good friend and he genuinely wants to see Mingyu’s love life thrive. But he also doesn’t want to witness the absolute fiasco that may very well likely result from Mingyu being let anywhere near the milk frother. Having hot milk dripping from every surface of their workspace isn’t the most ideal reoccurrence, and this time Wonwoo would like to be as far away from the splash zone as possible.

Mingyu’s tongue pokes out from between his lips, deep in concentration as he begins pouring the milk into your cup. So far so good, he mentally pats himself on the back. Maybe this will prove to Seungcheol that he deserves a second chance with the latte art.

A loud clatter resounds through the café, startling him. His hand jolts, hot milk missing the rim of the cup and splattering inches away from his feet. Mingyu cranes his neck in the direction of the sound just in time to see a customer nearby picking up their fork from the ground with a sheepish smile, cheeks tinged red as their friend muffles their giggles behind a gloved hand.

Huffing, Mingyu turns back to your latte to find the design ruined, what used to be a heart now split down the middle. Definitely not a very nice omen to give someone just a week before Valentine’s Day. What if you thought he was trying to curse you?

“You want me to do it for you?” Wonwoo asks sympathetically, gesturing for them to swap duties. With a heavy sigh, Mingyu agrees, taking his initial place back behind the cash register and plastering a smile on his face as the same customer comes up asking for another fork.

A pout subconsciously makes its way onto his face at the sight of your smile when Wonwoo brings you your latte. He can’t hear what you’re saying, but he’s guessing you’re marvelling over the leaf design his friend created.

Maybe next time.

PHASE 3

“Ta-da! It’s a coffee stencil!”

“Yes…” Wonwoo enunciates slowly, not knowing where this is going, “we have those in the back for special events—speaking of which, we need to grab the heart ones for the Valentine’s Day event starting tomorrow. Did you specifically buy that for this?”

“No!” Mingyu says, bringing the stencil closer to Wonwoo’s face, practically shoving it in the space between his eyes. “See? It says “YOU’RE CUTE”, I’m gonna use it when Y/N orders her latte and this time I’m bringing it over to her table and ask if she wants to hang out!”

His words are almost slurred from how excited he is, almost vibrating with excitement because his plan is so fool-proof; he knows he won’t mess up with the stencil and he knows you come in every other day to enjoy a piping hot cup of latte and a toasted croissant before heading to your late-morning lectures. There’s no way anyone could ruin it for him this time.

He can’t help himself from staring at the door awaiting your arrival during whatever short break he gets from taking orders and heating up baked goods, oblivious to the way Wonwoo occasionally sneaks glances at him with an amused smirk tugging at his lips. If the phrase ‘lovesick puppy’ were a person, it’d undoubtedly be Kim Mingyu.

Soon enough, your figure appears behind the frosted glass windows of the café, and while your entrance brings in a gust of frosty wind from the streets outside, he feels nothing but warmth in his chest as you walk up to the counter with a smile he’s come to associate with the summer sun. Sweet and dazzling.

“Hi, Y/N!” he says, a soft pink blush blooming across his cheeks, his fingers already hovering over your usual order on his screen, “hot vanilla latte with a toasted croissant?” His stencil—the one he bought just for you—sits on the counter right behind him, patiently waiting to be dusted in a layer of cocoa powder to create his little message.

You smile apologetically as you adjust the beanie on your head. It’s so you, he thinks, in a dreamy peach shade and topped with a fluffy white pom-pom.

“I’ll have to get both to-go today, I have to meet up with some groupmates for a project,” you explain, and Mingyu feels the blood drain from his face at your words. He can almost hear the shattering glass sound effect if this were a rom-com; the universe must be playing a prank on him.

It’s not even April Fool’s.

“O-Okay,” he falters, his arm suddenly weighing heavy as he inputs your order into the machine, “y-yeah, I can definitely do that.”

You smile gratefully. “You’re the best, Mingyu.”

He definitely doesn’t feel the best as he watches you leave with your breakfast, not even the encouraging pat on the shoulder from Wonwoo is helping much.

“Always next time, right?” his friend consoles.

He wonders how many more next times it will take.

PHASE 4

“I’m giving up,” Mingyu bemoans, slumping over the counter fifteen minutes to opening, “I’ll just accept that the universe doesn’t want me to find love.”

Wonwoo is hardly fazed by the sight of the giant man draped over the granite as he touches up the drawing of the limited edition drink—the red velvet latte—on a small chalkboard to put near the cash register.

“You’re being dramatic, Gyu,” he reasons, voice soft over the scribbling of chalk, “just try again today.”

“But it’s Valentine’s Day! Do you know how many happy couples I walked past on my way here? Plus, maybe she already has plans and isn’t coming in. I’ll never believe in love again.”

“Let’s just see how it goes, hm? Don’t give up hope just yet.”

By some miracle, Wonwoo’s right. You show up precisely thirty-seven minutes before their shift ends—yes, Mingyu counted.

“Any plans today?” he probes lightly, trying to sound casual when you order the red velvet latte and a scone.

“Nah, no boyfriend sadly,” you reveal with a quiet chuckle, “but it’s okay. It’s just any other day, right?”

Mingyu nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wonwoo shoot him a knowing look. “Yeah, I guess... But if it makes you feel less alone, I don’t really have plans either,” he blurts.

“You? Really?” You look skeptical, lips curled disbelievingly.

He places a hand over his heart in mock hurt, thankful business is slow today so he has more time to talk to you without worrying about holding up the line. “What? You don’t trust me?”

“Well… I just didn’t expect someone like you to not have plans on Valentine’s Day.”

“And what kind of person am I?” He delights in how the question seems to fluster you, internally cooing at how adorable you are as you fumble over your words and take your receipt before claiming a table near the pick-up counter. Your reaction gives him a little hope that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way as he does.

His confidence all but dissipates into thin air the second he finishes your latte. He used the same ‘YOU’RE CUTE’ stencil for the cocoa powder on top, and thankfully it turned out great if the appreciative whistle Wonwoo let out when he saw it was anything to go by. But the thought of bringing it over to you was daunting. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if you don’t realise he used a different stencil specifically for you?

“What if I trip and accidentally spill it all over her?”

“You won’t,” Wonwoo groans, exasperated by his friend’s ridiculousness, “now hurry up and get this to her before she starts wondering why it’s taking so long.”

Mingyu’s eyes are pleading as he asks, “Can you do it for me?”

“What? The whole week you’ve been sulking because you couldn’t ask her out and now you want… me to do it for you?”

“I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, looking over his shoulder to find you happily sketching something on your iPad. “And well, now I’m chickening out. Maybe I’ll do it when she’s about to leave, it feels less awkward that way. Please?”

Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrow behind his glasses, the gears turning in his head before sighing. “Fine.”

A new customer walks up to the cash register, tearing Mingyu’s attention away from your cup as he rushes to take their order. Wonwoo watches carefully from the corner of his eye, ensuring Mingyu isn’t looking his way as he nabs a napkin and a pen from his pocket, having decided that his friend needs a little nudge in the right direction.

You look up from your screen with a smile when the other barista gingerly carries the steaming beverage and the pastry over to your table. He’s cute, but he’s not Mingyu. Grinning down at the rather fitting design on your latte, you lift the cup to take a sip only for your eyes to be immediately drawn to the napkin that sits on the saucer. You scan the message scrawled on it, hiding your smile behind the rim of your cup as you feign nonchalance, though pinpricks of heat are already beginning to form on your cheeks.

Still, you wait after you’ve finished your late breakfast until you spy Mingyu mopping up the floor behind the pick-up counter. He peers up through his eyelashes when you place your empty cup and plate in front of him.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile, “just leave it there, I’ll get it after I finish.”

Much to his confusion, you don’t walk away. Instead, you continue standing at the opposite side of the counter with an expectant glint in your eyes. Bewildered, he looks down at your empty cup, brows furrowing when he spots what appears to be writing on the napkin underneath it. Hesitantly, he picks it up.

Oh, he’s so going to kill Wonwoo.

my friend thinks ur rlly cute and wants to ask u out and it’s painful watching him struggle, pls put him (& me) out of his (our) misery if u like him 2, no pressure though

“I—I can explain,” Mingyu stammers, mouth opening and closing like a fish but words simply refuse to leave him. It’s cute, it reminds you of the goldfish you had as a kid, Turtle. You loved that funky orange dude.

And perhaps love truly is in the air, because you think you really like the barista standing before you too.

“Well, I did say I don’t have any plans today,” you muse, beaming at him, “and if my memory serves me right, so did you.”

“M-Me?” he echoes, jabbing a finger at his chest, “you wanna hang out… wi-with me?”

A beautiful chime travels to his ears as you giggle. “Yes, Mingyu, I’d love to hang out with you.”

“My shift ends in ten! W-We could go somewhere after that, if you want!”

You grin, cheeks round from smiling so widely as you toy with the lace hem of your sleeve. “Sounds like a date.”

a/n: is this word vomit? atp idk anymore 😞 but thank you sm for reading and feedback is greatly appreciated hehe ily besties 💗💗

[smokersbaby]

Hello :D first of all, I love your Tumblr blog and writing, your posts about Smoker make me feel butterflies in my tummy. (Yeah, he deserves more love, he's such an underrated character and husband material, so I'm really happy to read all your writing about him ✨) Sorry for not sending a request or leaving a comment sooner (I was nervous because I don't speak italian, my native language is spanish, and I'm insecure about my english knowlege 🙏) I'm so excited to see blogs like yours, Smoker is my favorite One Piece character and let's say he was my unexpected fictional crush from the series haha. (He is such a handsome, kind, righteous and complex character, I feel an unhealthy amount of love for him😭)

So, after all that thirst for Smoker, the request. Do you have some thoughts or headcanons of him being a husband or even a father? I've noticed that people often forget that he is such a sweet man with children and that side of him just melts my heart. (The moment with the ice cream little girl in Loguetown made me fall in love with him in the first place💖)

Thanks for all the love and effort you put in your writing :D you don't need to answer my request if you don't feel comfortable with it so feel free to ignore it, I will understand 👍🏻✨ And keep on writing, you're doing amazing🌟

Thank you so much for all your kind words! Don't you worry about the language since I'm the first one who makes a lot of errors here! Moreover, my sister lives in Spain so when she comes to Italy with her little daughter we speak in Spanish (at least I try).

Smoker is the perfect husband material, I'm sorry if I haven't written more SFW about him until now but I didn't have the chance, so I am more than happy to expose him like that! (that scene in Loguetown lives in my head/heart rent free and I go look at it every time I'm sad, just to let you know) 💕

Characters: Smoker TW: mention of sex (intimate moments part) Notes: if you love Smoker and need some comfort, this is the perfect fanfic for you, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it 💕

-> As a husband <-

Jealousy -> he isn't the kind of person that demonstrates openly how jealous he is towards you when someone else gives you attention (there will not be jealousy dramas), but he'll look at the other person with a deadly look from distance. He is jealous of you, more than you could imagine, he can't think of you in someone else's arms.

Sleeping together -> He loves when you use his chest as a pillow (and you love poking and squeezing his boobies too, let's say that), with his arms caressing your back when you fall asleep on him. He doesn't move a muscle when you nap, even though he grunts as he starts to feel his arms getting dizzy from the uncomfortable position due to your weight on him. He snores when he sleeps (sorry for that) and can be a quite heavy sleeper when it's with you (the opposite happens when he has a mission and must be alert).

Protection -> do you remember Smoker saying "you ain't laying a finger on my soldiers!" when he fights pirates? Well, he's protective towards you as well, but hundred times as much! Nobody could harm you when you are with him, if someone does, that person would be torn apart within minutes.

Cuddles -> he doesn't demonstrate his love in public, and Smoker blushes a lot trying to stay calm when you try to do mushy stuff with him in front of people. But, when you two are alone, he loves cuddling you whenever he has the opportunity. The thing he loves the most is hugging you from behind and placing his chin over your head as he does so, it happens almost whenever you are in the kitchen cooking or just brushing your teeth in the bathroom.

Cooking -> Smoker is not the best cook in the couple, he tried a lot of times and with a huge effort trying to impress you but he ended up throwing away a lot of pans since they were almost burnt or too difficult to clean after he finished. Once he gave you the only edible meal he cooked and he thought you were joking as you told him that it was quite good.

Living together -> Smoker never thought he could enjoy living with someone else this much. Since you two moved in together, he started to do everything with you, most of all because his work schedule it's quite strict and he tries to spend time with you as much as possible in your shared house. He's quite an organized person, if you thought he might be messy with clothes you're wrong: it's mostly the times he reproaches you for not putting your things in order (he's a marine after all, what did you expect?)

Going out -> He loves taking you out to play pool with him. He can't help but chuckle seeing you try your best and lose against him. When you make mistakes missing the balls with the billiard clues Smoker laughs a bit, but just because he can use this opportunity as his advance, placing his hands on your waist trying to teach you how to play properly (of course most of the time you pretend you can't play to make him approach you).

Intimate moments -> He's intense, for real. He won't let you leave the bedroom until he satisfies every desire of yours (it's him that insists to do that, not you). He loves your body and kisses every inch of you before using his mouth to make you see stars. Smoker adores you when you ride him taking the lead since he's accustomed to giving orders in his job, it's like a kind of role reversal to him. He can be a little bit rough at times in bed, grabbing you by your thighs and leaving small bites on your neck, but he won't ever push you beyond your limits. Smoker also loves when you ask him to spank your butt since he can't take his hands off of it. He has a slightly praising kink and loves telling you how good you are at taking him all inside of you.

-> As a father <-

Smoking -> he doesn't smoke around you when you are pregnant as doesn't smoke around his children since his family is the top priority to him, but since his kids want to be with their dad all the time he's quite stressed about abstinence from smoke.

Protection -> Good luck to everyone who tries to harm his children, no one could ever think about such a thing, and when the idea of someone harming his children comes into Smoker's mind, he can't help but think about all the things he would do to make these people pay in the most atrocious ways.

Boy or girl? -> He wants a girl, definitely, but he'll be hella protective towards her when she starts growing up. He'll treat her like her little princess and bring her on his shoulder every time he can. Smoker can't resist but give her all she wants, even when he knows he shouldn't spoil her but he can't say no to his little princess.

Cherishes your body -> There's no need to be insecure about your body after giving birth since he'll love every curve of yours during and after pregnancy: every pound you gained in the 9 months is a pound more for him to love. Your stretchmarks are just a sign of you bringing to this world his child. He doesn't care if your body changed after the birth of your babies, this is just another reason to make you feel appreciated more than before since he can't see you sad about it and won't ever let it happen.

Finds time to stay with you -> Probably it won't be easy for you two to find time for yourself when you both have children to take care of and he's away in marine missions for days. But when you finally find a little bit of time to spend alone with Smoker it's like when you were just married, snuggling in bed as he gives you all the attention he can to the person he loves the most.

Playtime -> Smoker tries to find time to play with them, which can be kinda difficult at times because of his job. His children love pranking him while he's busy or distracted. Smoker sighs and puts on a (fake) grunt on his face as this happens and then starts chasing them playfully all over the house. They love pretending to be pirates escaping from the big marine that is their father, Smoker plays along but he's kinda worried when he sees his children enjoying this game, he hopes with all his heart that his kids won't ever become pirates.

When the kids grow up -> He teaches them the difference between what's right and what's simple, which can be difficult since he has seen so many people taking the wrong way in life, but he tries to not push them about it since he knows he'll probably get the opposite reaction from them. He loves his children so much and is a little bit scared of them growing up, Smoker wants the best for them.

[sixosix]

akaashi keiji: you can hear it in the silence

blurb keiji is hiding something from you. only when you get the courage to unearth it will you get more than what you anticipated.

a/n there were a lot of comments saying they wanted more of childhood!friend akaashi so i come here to serve! based off of a ts song. also im not sure abt the ending lolol

# wc, angst to fluff, mutual pining, but ofc neither knows about the mutual part, childhood friends to lovers, late night slow dancing awh, confessions

you wake up to noises. most, muffled and distant on one ear with your other is pressed against a lap; some, slow and near, like akaashi’s breathing and soft humming he doesn’t seem conscious of doing.

“hah?” comes someone’s voice. you recognize it, but in the dregs of exhaustion, you can’t pin a name to it. “this again? are you a pillow now or something?”

“i don’t mind,” akaashi says, and his grip on your hair tenses a little like it’s a lie, “we do this all the time.”

your brows knit together subtly.

the voice -- kuroo, you now identify -- hums thoughtfully. “yeah, i know that. but don’t let y/n… step all over you or something just because you’re used to it. you’re a smart guy, ‘kaashi.”

akaashi doesn’t reply this time, even when you were so sure that he would ask kuroo by what he means. keiji knows what he’s talking about. this unsettles you more than you’d like to admit.

you didn’t realize you were gripping his jacket tightly until his fingers resumed playing with your hair, soothing your nerves with just a touch. this makes you wonder, does he know you’re awake? or is it just a subconscious instinct to comfort you?

“well? are you gonna do it or not?”

do what?

akaashi lightly scratches your head. you’re probably purring, who knows. “i’ll see you around, kuroo.”

kuroo sighs. “see ya, man. kenma says bye.”

akaashi hums again. 

you wake up and pretend as if you weren’t aware the entire time. if akaashi noticed, he doesn’t call you out on it. so you talk; you talk about how yukie and kaori will treat you to ice cream later and if he wants to come. about how they want to watch a romance movie with you tomorrow and they spoiled you about a slow dance scene. about how you’d like to hang out with him some more.

but he doesn’t speak again the entire night, sharp eyes far away from where he actually is.

akaashi is hiding something from you.

you should’ve known earlier, given how you pride yourself in knowing akaashi better than anyone else, but somehow you’ve missed this one.

ever since that practice match with nekoma -- ever since kuroo entered the room, and said words that made bells ring in the back of your head -- you’ve been noticing signs from akaashi that proved your theory that akaashi is avoiding you.

it’s a subtle shift. akaashi is certainly slippery when he wants to be. but for someone who has been best friends with him since you were plucked out of the womb, you noticed.

when you invite him to your house, he declines, always saying that he’s too tired but maybe he could next time (which would be fine, if his next time didn’t involve repeating the same words; it would be understandable if he didn’t sneak out to practice -- so aggressively, almost angrily -- when he thought you left the school).

when you talk to him -- this one is a tricky one -- he’s quiet. he usually is comfortable with letting others lead the conversation, but this is a tense silence. the kind of quiet that means he’s thinking hard and worrying about something. sometimes, some days are like that. you just don’t understand what’s so different about this one that has him hiding it from you.

it frustrated you. but you love him too much to risk making him uncomfortable for pushing.

but your heart breaks when you realized he's pushing you away.

you decided to give him space. you didn’t talk to him in the same way he didn’t instigate a conversation. you didn’t go to him in the same way he didn’t look for you the way he usually does. it’s been a week since you two last talked.

whoever came up with the quote fondness makes the heart grow stronger knew their shit.

“a fight?” ren, a classmate who you’ve only spoken to about three times, ponders aloud. he’s staring at you. “are the high school sweethearts fighting?”

“what? which high school sweetheart? where?” you whip your head around, disappointed to see everyone chatting peacefully. no high school sweethearts drama here, no sir.

“you and akaashi.”

“what?” you cough as an excuse to cover your face. “w-we’re not like that.”

“really?” ren looks genuinely surprised. “oh, my bad. sorry for assuming.”

“no harm done,” you smile, pointedly looking back at your notebook.

ren doesn’t get the hint. “say, l/n. i overheard the girls talking about this horror movie. do you like horror movies?” you haven’t given it much thought before. you usually didn’t mind any movie so long as you had akaashi’s blank-faced commentary and criticism that never fails to entertain you. the memory makes your expression sour.

“ren-kun,” you start, cutting off his pitch about how he had bought two tickets for him and his brother but blah blah blah this and that.

“y-yes?” ren looks hopeful.

“am i a bad friend?”

“...what?” ren blinks once, then twice. “uhm. i wouldn’t know, not exactly. but you seem sweet. and nice. i don’t see why you would be.” at your silence, ren shifts awkwardly foot to foot. “do you think you’re a bad friend?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “maybe he does.”

“who?”

“akaashi.”

ren looks contemplative, then sighs. “do you want to take your mind off of it?”

your eyes skim over the imprinted words on the book. you’ve been on the same sentence for the past few minutes, and never have any word registered on your mind. you don’t notice the door sliding open and someone entering. “and how do you suppose i do that?” you ask him, only a little absentmindedly.

“listen, l/n. to be straightforward with you, i really want to take you to this movie,” ren says. the boldness is almost charming. if only he was your type (and if only your brain would be caught dead if you were to think about anyone else). “it doesn’t have to be a date, but if you give me a chance it could be.”

you stare at him, dumbfounded. “uhm.”

you don’t want to go. someone wise once said (yukie-san) that horror movies were a cheap trick to get their date to hang onto their knight in shining armor because they are scared or whatever the boys wrote in playboy 101. honestly, all things considered (and you really don’t want to consider it), you’d rather not do any of that. it’s kinda lame.

you don’t have to answer when your eyes widen at the new figure coming up from behind ren.

“sorry, yamamura-san, but i already have plans with… l/n-san,” akaashi says, steely-eyed as if daring ren to doubt him.

“oh?” ren glances back and forth between the two of you. he holds akaashi’s gaze, and it’s almost a sneer. “hm, sure, okay. offer’s still up, though, okay?” but he walks away, tail between his legs at the surprising hostility radiating off of akaashi.

akaashi watches him leave with a funny expression, before turning back to you and his face softening.

you scoff. “i’m not gonna thank you.”

akaashi smiles, as though he was already expecting that. “you looked uncomfortable. you can just tell them that you have plans with me and i’ll understand and play along.”

but he doesn’t understand that you don’t want him to do all this from the goodness of his heart, but actually because you want a date from him, does he?

you sigh, breaking eye contact. “so you avoid me all week and then make my plans for me? some nerve you got there.” you’re not actually mad at him. akaashi shows his way of caring through subtle ways like this, because he can’t bring himself to just say plainly what he wants.

somehow, knowing all these little things about him makes it harder to get angry.

akaashi looks guilty at least. “sorry, did you plan on going?”

“no, of course not. you know i’d rather not bother,” you laugh.

akaashi looks thoughtful at this response.

it’s 2 in the morning.

2 in the morning and you’ve been tossing and turning unable to sleep so you decided to watch some shitty reruns that weren’t even close to enjoyable. but it took your mind off of things. like the fact that your akaashi is drifting away and he won’t even tell you what you did wrong.

and also-- what in the everloving fuck is akaashi keiji doing standing outside your window like that?”

“keiji?” you whisper, hysterical in a way that neared yelling; you didn’t notice the slip of his name, but he did. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

you had to pinch your arm to make sure that you aren’t hallucinating.

akaashi’s gaze on you is piercing. you definitely don’t look at the way the long sleeves of his shirt is cuffed around his forearms-- you do not. “can you sneak out?”

“what? right now?” even with your incredulity, he nods patiently. “are you fucking crazy!? how the hell did you even--”

“let me have this, y/n,” akaashi says, looking at you so earnestly you want to slap yourself silly for even raising your voice at him. “please.”

“akaashi--”

“keiji,” he whispers back, craning his neck to glance behind him. he’s usually not this adventurous, but you tell yourself that this is probably not the last surprise he’s giving you. “come on.”

so you give in.

well, kind of. you were expecting him to take you somewhere and kidnap you. maybe offer you to the aliens so it would leave some explanations as to why akaashi is acting so fucking weird!

but he actually led you to your own backyard, where there’s a speaker on the table and his phone on top of it. it’s playing some slow music you vaguely recognized played by a popular artist. you wonder if your neighbors have suddenly gotten deaf or if you’re the only one who feels as if the world has gone silent just for this.

akaashi must like this song if he’s willing to listen to it right now after offering:

“can we have a dance?”

you stare at him, round-eyed. so this is why he’s all dressed up. and you’re in your most comfortable pajamas. “you’re fucking crazy.”

akaashi can’t hide his smile. “that’s not an answer.”

you give in, taking his hand as he guides you to wrap it around his and the other on his shoulder. “keiji.”

“y/n.” he has one hand on your waist now. you don’t think you’ve been this intimately close to akaashi before, so you need to speak up before you lose your mind.

“did i do something? to, like, make you mad at me or something? did i upset you?”

akaashi’s eyes soften. “no, of course not.” you don’t know, but somehow you two are slow dancing, and akaashi is leading -- so naturally, as if this is how it’s supposed to be.

“then why were you avoiding me?”

“i didn’t mean to. i was just… thinking.”

you pair are swaying slightly, following the melody. your heart is fluttering and akaashi keeps looking at you. what the hell is happening? “d-does it have to involve not being around me?”

“i didn’t like the space either, y/n. but i was thinking about things that you would hate me for.”

you sigh. “keiji. look. you’re my best friend -- my bestest one ever -- and i love you more than you know, do you seriously think i would just hate y--”

akaashi’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. it’s the most expressive you’ve seen him. “what did you just say?”

you’ve never said the “L” word before. especially not just to akaashi, because then it would mean different. and akaashi -- stupid keiji who knows you too well -- knows this.

“--you, uh-- fuck.” you pull away from him. “did i just confess? was that a confession? please ignore what i said. i didn’t say anything. let me continue my monologue, dammit.”

akaashi can’t stop smiling. “do you mind repeating that? i didn’t hear you properly.”

“no. nooooo, don’t look at me like that.” you cover your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the way he looks so happy. it’s not good for your soft heart.

“and how do i look at you?” akaashi is amused. he’s just teasing you at this point.

when you don’t reply, akaashi persists. he hasn’t been this assertive since… ever. maybe you’re a bad influence on him. “how do you know that you love me?”

“i don’t know! i just-- i just look at you and--” your voice goes quieter. “i think i do.”

akaashi hums, tugging you close until your chests are touching and leads you to sway again. “then, in that case. i think i might be in love with you, too.”