#suddenly. the whole damn night is ruined?

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[pempempemto]

the ride back

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; three

wc ; 3745 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; brief mention of death, cursing, neglect

prologue, one, two, three, tbc..

Sometimes it feels like there is someone puppeteering you into the worst scenarios possible.

It started when finally, after days of contacting every single landlord in Gotham and Bludhaven, one kind old man reached back. The house he was willing to rent you wasn’t half bad either, certainly no Wayne Manor but a small apartment about a convenience store would suffice.

After regressing, you were stuck in a loop of tears and anger and whatever strange, uncomfortable feeling you got whenever you were reminded of your weird interaction with Dick.

But finally, light at the end of the rainbow! You could cry (of joy this time), but you’ve no time for tears. Not when you’re faced with a big, overpowering problem. Leaving the Manor.

Now, in the past, you could just get up and leave, however after your run-in with Damian and Dick, you’re apprehensive to leave your room. What if you’re ambushed again? By Tim? Or Jason? Or heaven forbid, Dick again? Terrifying! You don’t have time to dilly dally, not when Mr. Kim is waiting in your future home.

So, you’re very on edge, looking around every corner with apprehension, bracing yourself for anything and everything. When you finally reach the door, unharmed, you let out a deep sigh, only to hear a voice behind you.

“Master (Name).”

What now? You whip your head around, a sense of deja vu hitting you, oh, it’s just Alfred. You let out a sigh, glad it’s not Dick with his strange shenanigans. “Alfred, is everything alright?” You smile, out of everyone, Alfred is the one you love most, the one who cradled you close in those agonizingly lonely nights, when you’d call out for your mother, for your father, for anyone.

He was there.

“You’re heading out?” He asks, assessing you with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A few days ago, Dick had informed him that you were acting strange, you had run away from your older brother. His mind raced, the implications of what that might mean has been weighing on the butler’s mind for days. It was uncharacteristic of you, up until about a week ago you would jump for joy if any of your family would glance at you.

But after that day, that day where you had skipped breakfast .. What changed? Why are you suddenly so uninterested in your family? It’s unnatural. Your whole life had always been dedicated to them, you’d do anything to be apart of them, to be seen. So why? When you finally had the chance to be centre stage, were you walking away? Something about your demeanour was off and he didn’t like it.

“Yes, I’ve–” You pause, should you tell Alfred? I’m going to move out and never speak to anyone from this house again! No, you’ll wait until you’ve secured a place before letting him know. You’re not prepared for that conversation. “I’m going to– for a walk.” The lie is stale on your tongue, you’ve never lied to Alfred, not besides petty ones to get out of trouble. But this feels different, a heavy knot tying in your shoulders as you watch the butler’s confused expression.

“Is that so? Because a few days ago, Master Dick–” You were out the door before he could finish his damn sentence. You are not in the mood to discuss Dick right now! It’s going to ruin your chipper mood.

The click of the door had Alfred’s eyes narrowing, his eyes trained on where you once stood. He believed that the small push he gave Bruce would be enough, but it’s just driving you further away. How troublesome, he doesn’t want for you to end up hurt.

“Wow! This is a really great place? And I get the first month free?” You are convinced whatever deity sent you back in time is responsible for the saint before you. The small, chubby old man who speaks to you in such a paternal voice it makes you want to cry.

“Of course, it’s no problem, I just need to speak to your guardian to agree on your emancipation, plus they’ll need to sign some consent forms.”

“What?” You blink dumbly, your heart momentarily stopping before the damn organ speeds up so quickly it could power a small village, you try to convey your thoughts but all you can manage is a few dumb noises. “Are– Are you sure?”

“Apologies, since you’re only sixteen – you must have a guardian’s consent, this is a legal rental after all,” he smiles apologetically, before adding, “if you want to live somewhere without your parent’s consent, it’ll have to be illegally – which can be dangerous, ‘specially for a youngling such as yourself.”

Oh, right. You’re sixteen. The fact slipped your mind once more, you’re so foolish. So damn foolish, nothing will ever be so easy, nothing in your life will ever be handed to you like this. “Right, I’ll– let you know.” You smile, your eyes scanning over the small apartment once more. It reminds you of the place you stayed with your mother, the small space encapsulating those memories you hold dear so perfectly that if you light a few ciggerattes and close your eyes, you'll go back in time.

“I’ll keep this off-sale for you, please let me know as soon as possible.” Mr. Kim, so nicely adds, his small face – wrinkled with age, softening at your disheartened expression. You so desperately want to beg for him to rethink, to make an exception, but you don't want to get him in trouble, not since he’s been so kind.

And so, with a heavy heart, you walk out, walking with effort since your feet don’t want to leave. Don’t want to leave a future that could be, that should’ve been. Ugh, how disgustingly sentimental.

You don’t feel like returning to the Manor, not yet. The air outside is nice, it’s nice to breathe in a taste of something other than the suffocating walls around you, even if it’s just some dingy back alley. It’s nice to see what could’ve been, that is until a large hand clamps down on your shoulder.

Oh, great. So the one time you leave the Manor you die again. Maybe you’ll regress to when you’re eleven next, you muse.

“What the hell are you doing around here?” You recognise that voice and immediately you don’t want to turn around. What is he doing out? During the day? You thought vigilantes only patrol during the lunar hours, so why? Your heart squeezes in your throat, desperate to claw its way out, to escape your pitiful body.

After a tense moment of silence, you turn around, there he stands. Red Hood, your older brother. Well, older brother is a stretch, you’ve never really interacted with him – much like the rest of your family. You were brought in when he was still Robin, but he died shortly after. A small, vengeful part of you blamed him for your neglect. That was until Bruce brought in Tim, and you watched bitterly how Tim was embraced immediately, he didn’t have to fight for any attention, he was accepted by everyone and you were forced to swallow the thought that it wasn't Jason's fault -- but your own.

When Jason was somehow brought back, you selfishly hoped you would be able to bond with him, that he’d be the one to look back at you, to get to your level and hold you close.

No such thing happened, the only time you saw him was when he was walking through the Manor to the Batcave, and even then, he gave you a bone-chilling glare. You didn’t think of him so optimistically after that. Now, with his hand clutching your shoulder, his expression covered by his menacing red helmet..

You’re ready to be shot 5 times again.

“I asked you a question.” He says, his hand tightening on your shoulder, you snap out of your stupor immediately, your fear morphing into frustration. You shove his hand off of you with more effort than you’re comfortable with, and even then you’re sure he’s the one who dropped his hand to not embarrass you any further.

“I’m allowed to go outside.” You huff, your nerves practically fighting against the restraints of your skin, a cold, overbearing feeling rushing over you. This was..– Everything was wrong, this is not how this is supposed to go, not at all.

“You were talking to Mr. Kim, why?” He asks bluntly, your heart stops beating for a moment, the only thing you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your brain trying to block this all out, trying to block out everything. “Actually, nevermind, I think I know why.”

You want to cry, why was this happening? You were so happy, so content. Why do you bump into them every time you leave your room, can’t you have one good day? Will you need to become a hermit? Will that get them off your back?

“I can drive you back to the Manor–”

“No, I’m fine.” You cut him off, your voice not masking any of your fear, it has Jason blinking under his mask. Why were you so on edge? What’s going on with you?

“I insist– Gotham isn’t safe for you to just be–..” He watches the downright terrified expression on your face before sighing and signalling for you to go, his stomach churns in an unfamiliar way as you scurry away.

Why were you so nervous? Could it be that you're scared of him?

That’s understandable, you’re not a vigilante, you’re just some average kid. But when he saw you walking alone, he detests himself for the way his heart swelled with happiness. In his Robin days, he loved watching the normalcy of your life, the way you would live free of any strings to the ghastly occupation he had.

He was scared to get closer, scared to shatter that illusion you had.

The fear amplified when he came back to life, he was relieved to see that you were still unaffiliated with Batman, but fuck, he was too cowardly to reach out, that day when you looked at him with gladness, he was hit with a paralysing fear of you getting too close, of you getting hurt. He replays the crushed expression that dawned your face like a damn broken stereo.

So when he saw you sulking about a few moments ago, he saw his chance to reach out, to get a taste of your normalcy, he took it, however selfish it may be.

“Whatever.” He grits, climbing up the roof to tail you, he’s content with watching from afar, for now.

The whole way back to the Manor felt like a fever dream, you can’t brush these oddities off as coincidences, why the hell did Red Hood approach you. Was he trying to pull a Damian? Was that a simple reminder of how pathetic you are? Why did he do that?!

Why was everyone acting so strangely?

The Manor offered you no comfort, it’s looming walls did nothing but remind you of your own shortcomings, you were afraid, you were perplexed but above all you were furious. Why now? When you’ve finally accepted your position in this family, why are they all turning their heads. Well damn them! You’re sick of this whole stupid charade, you won’t be that small child anymore, a child who knew only loneliness. You’re going to become your own person outside of the surname which has held you back for so long.

“We need to talk.” A voice calls out as you reach your room, what now? You’re sick of these damn conversations. You just want to move out, why is it so damn hard?

Oh, it’s Bruce again. Your lips press into a thin line as he stands before you, you can hear the soft humming running through the Manor walls. When you were younger, that sound brought you so much comfort, yet now it’s different. Like a warning.

“Talk? About what?” You try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. You’re distinctly aware of the way his brows furrow at your pitiful expression. Oh hell, you hope this won’t be another walk down the Manor where you awkwardly fumble in silence.

You don’t say anything as he leads you away from your room, a sullen quilt draped over the Manor, a strange foreboding sense that something’s going to happen. Something bad. You’re utterly perplexed as your father guides you to a part of the Manor you’re somewhat familiar with.

As a child, you used to lurk around the corners of these very walls, watching your family, itching to reach out and join in but fearing ruining the delicate painting they created. Fearing rejection, the cold glares and sneers as they pushed you away. So you trailed silently, waiting, hoping that someone would look back, smile at you and maybe hold out their hand. But it only ever happened in your dreams, a pale illusion of a reality that should've been true.

“Where did you go?” He asks, his eyes boring onto you with such intensity you can distinctly feel the way your blood begins furiously to pump through your veins, why did he care? “Alfred said you went out.”

“I just wanted some fresh air.” You’re not sure why you’re lying, it’d be easier to tell Bruce that you went to go see a house, the consent forms are folded in your pocket, waiting for his signature. It’d be so simple, so easy. Just a dip of pen on paper and you’ll be out.

So why do you feel such dread? A dread unlike anything you’ve ever felt. When you were in that alley, bleeding out helplessly, even then this oppressive feeling, which tightens your ribcage, forcing your organs into a tight space until you couldn’t breathe, until you couldn’t comprehend if it was your heart pounding so heavily or your lungs, wasn't as scary.

“You’re only sixteen, you need to let someone know where you’re going.” His voice is so unbelievably despotic that it made your very core tremble with anxiety, with a looming sense of doom.

“It’s never been a problem before.” You mumble, your voice a lot quieter than you would’ve liked, your vocal chords burning with each word passing through it, your nerves invading each of your senses, as if warning you to stay quiet.

Bruce says nothing, and the moment the air grows stale you wish you could take your words back. You can see the way his brows crease, the way he looks at you as though you’re some sort of criminal and not his own flesh and blood, the soft humming in the walls has disappeared, left behind in your area of the Manor. Though it’s odd, when you would lurk around the Manor as a youthling, there was always some sort of background noise in this area, where everyone hung out. The silence unnerved you, another thing that’s changed, another thing you couldn’t have predicted.

“If you’re going out, make sure to let me know.” He sighs, his expression softening as he looks down at you with what you interpret as belittlement, a burning hot rage boils in your stomach, and once more, you’re hit with the knowledge this isn’t how things are supposed to go, Bruce isn’t supposed to care that you go out without telling anyone, he’s not supposed to care about you.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do!’ you want to say, you want to scream, to ask what rights he has to treat you like a child? How dare he? It makes your very being tremble with frustration, your hands clenching with barely contained anger.

But you don’t. Why? Is it the natural response from your mind? The fear of disappointing him? The fear that if you speak up, you’ll be kicked out and left to rot? Or perhaps it’s the fear of confrontation you gained through his negligence, the weakness he moulded. But still, you’re not sixteen anymore, not really. Mentally, you’re twenty-one, you’ve been through each stage of your life, and maybe, sure, the day you died, you were content for them to walk all over you in exchange for a single glance at your direction.

But you’ve died and come back (in time)! You shouldn’t let them walk all over you anymore, shouldn’t be content as an afterthought. So– you open your mouth and–

“What’s going on?” Another voice speaks out, great, because this is exactly what you needed, another clown to join the circus. Oh.

Is this a joke? Is the person responsible for your misfortune giggling at your despair, is it amusing to see you suffer?

Damian, Dick, Jason and now Tim.

Why is Tim walking up to you? Why is he looking at you? A rush of dread, a sensation you’ve grown familiar with in the past few days, washes over you. You’ve never had his eyes on you, never for so long. It’s unnerving. You thought the calculating look in Bruce and Damian’s eyes was scary, but the way Tim looks at you now? His eyes zeroed in on you? It has your insides melting into liquid, the urge to cover your face, to hide in the corner and bury your face in your knees is overwhelming.

You don’t want his eyes on you, you decide. Years of clawing at your own shortcomings, of desperately trying to appeal to him, to have him look back – you would do anything at that time for him to look at you the way he is now.

But now? You don’t like it, he wears a neutral expression, but the look in his eyes makes you feel vulnerable, like he’s picking you apart one by one, each twitch, each mannerism.

“It’s about what we talked about.” Bruce says, his tone completely natural, like he’s discussing the weather, you don’t know the specifics but you have a nagging feeling that you know what he’s speaking of.

“Ah. Really? You’re still on that?” Tim tuts, his head tilting ever so slightly as he studies you. Just as you’re about to ask what the fuck does he mean by that, he turns his attention to Bruce. “I told you, they can’t do anything without your consent, they’re 16.”

How dare they? How dare they talk as though you’re not here? This is disgusting, what loathsome, egotistical dickheads! Your hands itch, the anxiety in you speeding all over your body like a livewire, mixing with your anger to create an overwhelming feeling of terror.

What was the point of Bruce bringing you here? To mock you? Show you how great they have it? What you’ve been missing out on? Well, screw him. You need to get away before you lash out, you’re better than that. Better than this.

The pair watches as you walk away, your whole body tense. For a moment, there’s a prolonged silence which is broken by Tim. “Did we do something wrong?” He asks, genuinely confused by your little display.

When he came back from a particularly tough mission, the last thing he was expecting was everybody collectively freaking out. Bruce, Damian, even Dick were all tense, looking around each corner – searching for something, someone. 

It was weird for a multitude of reasons, firstly – Dick was supposed to be gone by now, his stay at the Manor was for a few days only. Why is he here? And secondly, nothing particularly stressful was happening in Gotham, so what was with the gloom and doom?

When Bruce sighed, telling him about your plans to move out, well, to say Tim was confused was an understatement. That did not deserve such a reaction, but then he really thought about it, and, if this is how they react to you threatening to leave..

If you were to actually step out that door, to alienate away from them, to discard your last name. His head begins to throb at the implications, he’s acutely aware of how selfish it is for him to wish to keep you around, to keep you in this Manor all to keep himself happy.

But then the thought that, really, he’s doing this for you! If you thought it was so easy to just get up and leave, that at sixteen you’d just be able to pack up and go. Well, with that stupidity, you wouldn’t survive outside, in Gotham no less. He was able to placate Bruce’s stressing, thankfully, because the man looked three minutes away from a heart attack.

You wouldn’t be able to go without Bruce’s permission, so long as they had that – you’d stay with them. But that’s what led him to seeking you out now, if you had ideas about leaving that meant you were unhappy.

He was hoping to talk to you, to ask if you wanted to hang out – that’s what you want, right? When he thinks of you, his mind conjures up the slightly annoying, slightly endearing child that you were. He’ll hang out with you, destroy those silly notions and everything will go back to how it was.

So why did you stomp off? That’s not how you’re supposed to act. That’s not how you are.

“I don’t think so.” Bruce replies to his earlier question, his eyes still trained on the spot in which you were. How could you walk off?

Why were you so off during that conversation? He couldn’t…– This belies everything Alfred had told him about you, it's left Bruce conflicted. He had hoped that by bringing you here, he could ask which room you liked best. But you walked off, why? Why do you deny his affection? He was worried when he heard you left, a small, vulnerable part of him was afraid that you wouldn’t come back, that you had left for good, slipped through his fingers before he could hold you close.

So, when he saw you walk in – oh, he was elated. He just wanted to convey his worries, but you seemed to have gotten the wrong idea. He really doesn’t want that, you don't need anymore reasons to leave.

He doesn’t want the terrified expression on your face, he wants that dazzled look you used to carry around, he wants you – not this restless part of you, but the real you.

He'll get it back, he's sure he will.

ugh i hate the misunderstanding trope i say as i write the misunderstanding trope

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[kathaelipwse]

Their Reaction When You Whisper Something Not So Innocent | SKZ OT8

Synopsis:

You whisper something not-so-innocent in their ear, expecting them to get flustered—but some of them give it right back. From blushing messes to smug revenge, how does each of them react when you catch them off guard?

Warnings: Fluff | Teasing | Slightly Suggestive | Humor | GN.Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

- Requests are open

Bang Chan

Smirks when he feels you leaning in, expecting something sweet.

But then you whisper, "I can still feel you on me from last night."

His smirk falters immediately.

Clears his throat and shifts in his seat, suddenly very aware of his surroundings.

Tries to play it cool with a low chuckle, but his ears are already red.

"You're playing a dangerous game, baby."

Pulls you closer, making sure his lips graze your ear.

"Say that again. I dare you."

If you repeat it, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"You're lucky we're in public right now." His voice is lower, rougher.

Looks you up and down, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, like he's processing his life choices.

Murmurs against your skin, "You really know how to distract me, huh?"

Doesn’t let you walk away without some kind of payback.

If you’re in public, he keeps a hand on your waist, gripping it just enough to tease you.

If you're alone, expect him to pin you against the nearest surface, his knee between your legs.

Later, he sends a text that just says, "You're in trouble."

Lee Know

Squints suspiciously when you lean in.

But when you whisper, "I still remember how your hands felt on me."

He blinks once. Then twice.

"Huh?" Like he didn’t hear you, but he definitely did.

Slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Smirk. That damn smirk.

"Say that again, but slower."

When you refuse, he just laughs under his breath.

Pulls you onto his lap out of nowhere.

Murmurs, "You really want to start something right now?"

Taps his fingers on your thigh while pretending to think.

Looks way too calm, but his ears? Red.

Whispering right back, "You're gonna regret that later."

Acts like he's letting it go, but he's not.

Later, when you're alone, he corners you against a wall.

"I hope you’re ready to deal with the consequences."

Changbin

Immediately suspicious when you get too close.

"What are you up to?" But lets you whisper anyway.

But when you whisper, "I can still feel your hands on me from last night."

Freezes. Like. Completely.

Ears turn pink in 0.2 seconds.

Clears his throat so aggressively it sounds painful.

Tries to act unbothered but fails miserably.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about." Avoids eye contact.

Suddenly decides the gym is the safest place to be.

"You—um—shouldn’t say things like that."

Secretly loves it but is too flustered to function.

Texts you later: "So… about what you said earlier…"

If you bring it up again, he just hides his face in your shoulder.

After he recovers, he plans his revenge.

Whispering something even worse in your ear next time.

Hyunjin

Gasp.

Literal gasp.

Pushes you away just to dramatically hold his chest.

"EXCUSE ME?"

Fake offended but lowkey obsessed.

Covers his face with his hands and groans.

When you whisper, "You left me aching for you last night."

Starts pacing the room like he's in a drama.

Suddenly super shy but also clinging to you.

Buries his face in your neck.

"You just ruined my whole day. I can’t focus anymore."

Later, gets bold. Whispers something even filthier in your ear.

"Now we’re even."

Smug, but avoids eye contact for the next hour.

Still thinking about it at 2AM.

Han

Chokes on air.

"Wait. Wait, what?"

Starts laughing nervously like a man who wasn’t prepared for this moment.

"You can’t just—out of nowhere—WHAT?"

Hides under a blanket.

Peeks out with wide eyes.

When you whisper, "I still remember the way you moaned my name."

Trying so hard not to combust.

Literally grabs his chest like he’s been shot.

"I need a moment. I need therapy."

Pretends to be mad but he’s just overheating.

Eventually whispers something back. But it’s probably dumb.

Texts you later: "Hey… so about earlier… wanna continue that convo?"

Can’t look at you normally for at least a week.

But brings it up randomly when you least expect it.

Seungmin

Seungmin doesn’t react at first. Just stares at you with his usual deadpan face.

"That’s the best you got?" Smug. Too smug.

When you whisper, "I still feel you all over me from last night," he blinks slowly, side-eyes you, and then smirks.

"Oh? That sensitive, are we?"

It backfires immediately.

He leans in closer—way too close.

Whispers right back, "If I left such an impression… maybe I should make it worse next time."

Now you’re the one overheating.

Smirk. Full menace mode activated.

You regret everything.

"What? No comeback? That’s what I thought."

He will not let you live it down. Ever.

Brings it up at the worst times.

Game over. You lost. He wins.

Felix

Blushes instantly.

"W-Wait, what did you just say?"

Ears and neck turn red.

Tries to giggle it off but is lowkey panicking.

When you whisper, "You ruined me last night," he freezes.

Buffering. System failure.

Covers his face with his hands.

"Why would you say that?!" His voice cracks.

Legit needs to sit down.

But then… oh no.

Deep voice Felix activates.

Gets bold out of nowhere.

Whispers right back, "You say that like you didn’t love every second of it."

Now you’re malfunctioning.

He grins like the devil because he knows he got you back.

Jeongin

Biggest fake gasp ever.

"Oh my god, you’re so bold." But he’s smirking.

Acts shocked but is secretly thriving.

When you whisper, "I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands all over me," he raises an eyebrow, way too smug.

"Huh. All over, you say?"

Evil smirk unlocks.

Turns the tables immediately.

Leans in and whispers, "If you ask nicely, I’ll do it again."

You’re done. You’re finished.

Laughs when you get flustered.

"What? You started this. Own it."

Suddenly way too confident.

Never lets you live it down.

"So, should I clear my schedule for later or…?"

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

So, since Crowe is definitely my first fave of tab, so I just had to write more about him! Mostly focus on relationship canons, but shoutout to @i90o3 for the inspo! 

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I also threw in a bunch of my own general headcanons because honestly, Crowe has so much lore that I could talk about him forever (I won’t; it’ll be too damn long.)

He's got this whole backstory and vibe that I can't get enough of. Plus, I’m all about fleshing out his character even more, so I added a few of my personal twists on how I see him in different situations, especially when it comes to relationships. 

He's such a layered character, and it's fun to dive deep into his personality.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Okay, so let's talk about Crowe as a boyfriend. Honestly, he's everything—the perfect mix of charm, attention, and emotional depth. If you're the type of person who wants a relationship that's all about connection, balance, and growing together, Crowe is that guy. 

He's basically the definition of a dream guy—like, he’s got that old-school chivalry thing down, a fucking prince, but it's not forced or anything. It just comes naturally to him. He’s thoughtful in ways that’ll make you smile, like he’s always paying attention to what you need and finding ways to show you he cares. The affection? Relentless, in the best way possible. He’ll make you feel like the center of his universe without hesitation.

And if you’re someone who thinks love can’t be that over-the-top, grand, movie-romance type, Crowe is out here proving everyone wrong. He’s the type to sweep you off your feet with the little things and make every moment together feel like an wonderful love story.

✑ The Gentleman Extraordinaire

GENTLEMAN, GENTLEMAN, GENTLEMAN. DEAR LORD! Okay, okay, hear me out—Like, I started playing the game for Sol—I was all in for Sol, but then Crowe shows up, and suddenly I’m sitting here like, "Sol, who?" Crowe doesn’t just win your heart—he walks in, takes it, and leaves you wondering how you ever lived without him. He’s that boyfriend who ruins all other boyfriends because he’s not trying to compete—he’s just naturally that good at loving you.

He’s got this smooth, polished vibe, like a real-life Prince Charming, but not in some cheesy, over-the-top way. No, Crowe’s the kind of charming that feels real because it is He’s not all about appearances—there’s this kindness and humility that just grounds him. He’s perfect, but not in an intimidating way; he’s perfect in a “why this man doesn’t exist?” way. T-T

You know when he shows up to meet your friends or family? Game over. He’s got that effortless grace, that charisma that makes everyone around him feel special. Your friends are like, "Wow, he’s amazing," and your mom is already planning the wedding. But here’s the thing—Crowe doesn’t care about impressing everyone. He just cares about you, His whole vibe screams, “I’m here to love you and make your life amazing.” And he does.

He doesn’t wait around asking, “When are you free?” Nope. Crowe says, “Meet me outside in 20,” and next thing you know, you’re at this secret little café, or on a picnic in some perfect, out-of-the-way spot, or just laying on the grass, looking up at the stars that somehow feels magical—not odd because he’s there. And everything he does feels so intentional—like, this man doesn’t try to be romantic; he is romantic.

He’s that guy who makes opening doors and pulling out chairs look like an art form. Like, you could be wearing sweats, but somehow when you’re out with him, the whole scene feels like it belongs in a movie. 

Date night with Crowe? Babe, you’re not just going out for a night—you’re straight-up walking into a fashion shoot without even trying. This man is obsessed with matching outfits, but not in a cheesy way. Nah, it’s all about that subtle, cohesive vibe—same color schemes, the same textures.

And when you’re brainstorming outfits together? That’s part of the fun! It's like a mini fashion show before the actual date. And don’t even get me started on how he lets you borrow his clothes. You know this man is elite when his clothes smell like pure heaven and still fit you like a glove. Yall see how that man is built.

Crowe isn’t just boyfriend material, he’s the whole soulmate package. Like, seriously—he’s everything. I’m not even making this up, this man is next level.

✑ The Romantic Idealist

Crowe loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and he’s not shy about it—like, at all. His love is this big, bold, cinematic thing, but also these soft, quiet moments that hit just as hard. It’s like he’s figured out how to be a walking rom-com and your comfort person all at once.

And Prince? Oh, Prince is charming for sure, but let’s be real: he’s more of a mother hen than some storybook prince. Brittney nailed it when she said that. He’s got that whole “nagging but with love” vibe, plus the way he carries himself. It’s giving “protective energy” more than “royal decree.”

And, Oh, you’ll never be unsure about how he feels. The man says, “I love you,” like it’s second nature—like he doesn’t even realize it’s slipping out half the time. And the way he looks at you? You know, the kind of gaze that makes your knees forget how to function? Yeah, that.

Then there are the little surprises: handwritten notes that are so sweet they feel illegal, gifts that aren’t just thoughtful but feel like they were plucked straight from your Pinterest board, and dates planned around stuff you didn’t even realize you’d mentioned. He’s not just big on the show of it; he’s big on knowing you, like, really knowing you.

And if you’re having a bad day or feeling some type of way? Crowe is on it. Insecurity? What’s that? Because he’s about to drop a forehead kiss, some whispered reassurances or even a whole TED Talk about why you’re literally the best human being alive. He’s not stopping until you believe it.

Lastly, flowers? Don’t even get me started. Crowe’s the kind of guy who gives flowers just because it’s Tuesday, and he definitely knows flower language. Like, he’ll bring you a bouquet and casually mention the meaning behind every bloom. It’s all very “main character in a dating sim.” even though he’s very much a second lead energy. You know exactly what I mean.

✑ Intimacy, Comfort, and Softness

Okay, so Crowe’s whole vibe is just… ugh, so comforting, in the way he shows up physically and emotionally. 

Like, this man has a gift for making you feel safe and treasured, but also a little breathless. It’s the way he reads you, you know? He picks up on even the tiniest mood shifts and is right there—whether it’s to hold you, help you, or just let you vent without even asking for it. 

And communication? Oh, he’s the king of creating that safe little bubble where you can spill your guts and not feel judged.

Oh, but don’t let that fool you—this man is such a tease. He loves getting under your skin in that playful, flirty way that has you pouting and glaring at him, and he’s just standing there with this little smirk. And honestly? You’d swear you catch him blushing every now and then when you pout back, but it’s so subtle you almost gaslight yourself into thinking it’s the lighting.

Now, THE HAIR. His Hair ™ deserves its own spotlight.

It’s a masterpiece, okay? Always soft, always smelling faintly of lavender or jasmine or some other magical scent that just makes you wanna dive face-first into it and never leave. Like, what’s his secret? Witchcraft? Angels? I don’t even care—it’s perfect.  

And the texture? Bruh, it’s so smooth it’s unreal. Like, you run your fingers through it once, and suddenly you’re hooked. I’m talking brushing it, styling it, or just running your hands through it like it’s your job. Don’t even get me started. 

But here’s the kicker: when you start massaging his scalp? Game over. This man is so sensitive, like his entire soul leaves his body. But wait, I’m not even close to done. His hair has its own little personality, just radiating vibes that scream, “Take care of me, love me, worship me.” And you do. Because you have to.  

And if you dare to tug on his hair—ohhh, let me tell you, it’s a wrap. He just melts, full-on turns into a puddle with those big heart eyes, looking at you like you’re the only person in the universe. And the way he’s silently begging for more? Sir. Sir. You’re playing a dangerous game, Crowe.  

Soft words, soft touches—the whole package. He’s the kind of person who will cup your face like you're the most important thing in the world and just whisper how incredible you are.

Or he’ll casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you’re talking like it’s no big deal, but it makes you feel like you're wrapped up in this cozy, gentle bubble. Honestly, it’s the kind of affection that just melts you.

You’d have him all peaceful and chill, just resting on your chest, no worries. It’s like his version of a personal reset button. I can’t even deal with how perfect that sounds.

Oh yeah! Let’s talk about his sleep, though. Crowe sleeps like a freaking Disney princess. Aurora who? Like, imagine the most peaceful, beautiful sleeping face ever. And okay, yeah, there’s a bit of a “corpse but make it art” vibe, because how can anyone look that good just… lying there? I’m so sorry, couldn't help it.

Crowe is all about that closeness, like, he loves resting his head on you. Whether it’s on the top of your head or just leaning on your shoulder, he thrives on that kind of support. It’s like his way of saying he trusts you with his energy.

And if you smell nice? Oh, he’s all about it. Like, if you're wearing something musky, floral, or have a hint of perfume, he’s in heaven. It’s like his little sensory heaven, and he’ll lean in a little closer just to get that extra whiff. 

When it comes to hugs, it’s a mutual effort—you both kinda have this rhythm after learning each other’s boundaries. But when you do hug, Crowe’s hands usually find their way to your waist, not your chest or neck. It’s like this cozy, grounded thing where he wants to feel close but also be respectful of space. 

If you’re feeling extra chill with him, he’d probably fall asleep in your arms, no questions asked. This boy just needs rest, and you’re the perfect pillow. But if he does fall asleep while hugging you? Good luck getting those arms to move. It’s like they’re made of steel or something—they’re not going anywhere. And honestly, who would want them to? It feels so good being wrapped up in his arms. 

Seriously, though, his hugs are just addictive. Like, once you get one, you just want more. It’s warm, comforting, and feels like a personal little world just between the two of you. Just shower him with hugs in return—he’s craving it, trust me, especially when it’s just the two of you, behind closed doors. You’re honestly doing him a favor. But the only thing that could top his hugs? His kisses, hands down.

Like, don’t even get me started with his kisses—UGHH.

Crowe is ALL about them. Need kisses? Boom. Hands, cheeks, forehead, neck—whatever you want, he’s got you covered, babe. And if you’re cool with a PDA? Honey, he’s laying it on thick.

Like, smooches in front of everyone if anyone even thinks about making you jealous. But if you’re not into PDA, he’s got this smooth way of keeping you close—hand on your waist, pulling you into conversations, constantly checking in with those little glances that just scream, you’re my world.

And when it comes to love? Crowe doesn’t do things halfway. Do you need reassurance? He’s sitting you down for the most real heart-to-heart. Do you want more kisses? Babe, he’s already on it, no hesitation. If you’re the jealous type? Oh, he’s not just telling you he loves you; he’s showing it, making it crystal clear to everyone else, too. 

And the pet names? My love, my dove, my heart—he’s laying them on THICK with a capital T; I swear to god, those aren’t the exact nicknames from the game itself, more like examples as I want you guys to see for yourself as I’m not lying!—I was eating it up every single time.

✑ The Ultimate Hype Man

Crowe is that person who’s just built to hype you up. Like, your wins? Automatically his wins. He’s out here making sure everyone and their mama knows just how proud he is of you.  

But he has serious Cheerleader Energy—like, it’s not even casual. You finally ate today without forgetting, and this guy is acting like you just won Best Picture at the Oscars. Got a good grade on your test? He’s probably already planning a parade route through your neighborhood.

And if you failed that test? No worries—he’s showing up with your favorite snacks, ready to hype you up like, “It’s one test; you’re still a genius, obviously.” Honestly, I could’ve used that kind of energy after finals this year because…wow, the struggle. T-T 

But it’s not just about the hype with Crowe. Oh no, he’s deeper than that. He’s the guy who’s like, “What’s your passion? Let’s chase it down,” and he actually has good advice, not just “follow your dreams” fluff. Like, practical, actionable stuff that makes you feel like you can actually do the thing. And the best part? He’s not just clapping for the big wins; he’s cheering for every little step you take, even the awkward ones. 

Crowe’s that boyfriend—even friend who celebrates you while also making sure you’re constantly leveling up—and honestly, we all need a Crowe in our lives.

And oh, the reliability? Unmatched. Whether you need someone to hash out a problem, cheer you through a tough time, or just sit there as your unshakable rock, he’s there. No doubts, no drama. You can count on him to show up, fully present—both physically and emotionally.  

Also, let’s talk about his socials. They’re basically a love letter to you. Couple pics, goofy candids, and those long, heartfelt stories where he’s just out here spilling about how lucky he is? Crowe’s all about letting the world know how much he adores you.  

✑ Tailored to You

Crowe’s love language? All of them. He's like a walking, talking Swiss Army knife of affection, but with a twist: “I will become whatever you need me to be.” It's honestly wild. His default? Quality Time and Acts of Service, no question. He's the type of guy to be like, "I love you, and here's how I’m going to prove it." But the real magic happens when he adjusts based on whatever makes you happy. Do you like something? Oh, bet. He’ll be all over it, mastering it just for you.

— Physical Touch?  

Crowe's all about that. Like, he will hold your hand just because, mess with your hair while you're chilling, and literally just hug the life out of you. It’s not some half-hearted stuff either—it’s the kind of touch that screams, “You are my world, and I’ll keep you close.” 

— Acts of Service?

If you think you’re doing anything on your own, think again. Crowe's the guy who’s like, “Need help with your assignments? I’ll be your tutor, even if I don’t understand the material, I’ll pay someone or learn it myself. Running errands? I’ve got it covered.” He's all in on making your life easier, and that’s his way of showing love. He’ll get you that coffee you like without even asking.

— Words of Affirmation?

Man, if you thought he was shy with his words, you clearly don't know Crowe. He’s got this endless list of compliments, and he’s not shy about throwing them your way. “You’re amazing, you’re perfect, here’s why—let me list it out for you.” And let’s be real, he can’t stop talking about how great you are. Like, you’ll be sitting with him and next thing you know, he's telling his friends, “They are literally the best person ever,” and his friends just like, “Okay, we get it, you’re in love.”

— Quality Time?

When he’s with you, every second matters. Doesn’t matter if you’re just hanging out, watching a movie, or even just sitting there. He makes everything feel intentional like this moment right now is the only one that matters. He’s not just there, he’s fully present, and that makes everything feel special.

— Gift Giving?

This man doesn't just grab anything random. Oh no, every gift is like a peek into his brain where he’s thought about what would make you smile. It’s always something meaningful that shows he’s paying attention to what you care about. It’s like he can see straight into your soul and get you exactly what you didn’t even know you wanted.

✑ Tailored to Him 

When it comes to receiving love for himself, though? Crowe’s all about Words of Affirmation and Quality Time, with a little sprinkle of Physical Touch in there. And honestly, it makes sense because (okay, I’m guessing here), but he definitely has some emotional trauma—like, maybe growing up too fast? Like he’s so independent… I NEED more into his backstory because something made him this way. 

— Words of Affirmation?  

They’re everything to him. Sometimes he just needs you to remind him that he’s doing okay. Tell him he’s not a failure, that he’s enough, and watch him melt. Like, imagine gently cupping his face and whispering, “You’re amazing, Crowe.” Boom. He’s soft, he’s vulnerable, and he’s all yours.

— Quality Time?  

With his hectic schedule (hello, Student Council energy), any second you spend with him is like gold. And don’t even get me started on the fact that If you ask to hang out? Instant heart eyes. And the man STARES, okay? Like a full-on, unapologetic admiration station. Whether you’re looking back at him or not, he’s just soaking you in because, in his eyes, you’re an his actual deity. 

— Physical Touch?

Okay, so picture this: when you’re out in public with Crowe, there’s always some kind of touching happening, and it’s the softest, most consistent thing ever. Like, dude’s got this constant need to feel you’re there, but it’s not over-the-top—it’s just perfect. Holding hands? That’s a given. Arm brushing as you walk side by side? Absolutely. Waist-hugging? Oh, for sure. 

And you know what? Let’s throw in pinky-holding because I feel like he’s the type who’d totally be into that—like, tell me that wouldn’t be the cutest thing ever! Ugh, I’ve always wanted to try that. My heart can’t take it T-T. If there’s a way to be close to you, he’s doing it. 

Crowe’s basically the poster child for “can’t get enough of you” energy, but somehow it’s not overwhelming? Just... natural, like breathing?

Now, alone time? Oh man, let me tell you, this guy is so touch-starved, and it’s the sweetest thing ever. It’s not like he’s clingy—no, it’s way softer than that. It’s more like this quiet, unspoken please in his body language, like, “I just need you to hold me right now, and maybe, maybe for always.” And when he’s in that space, when he wraps himself up in you, it’s so clear he craves it—but not in a way that feels desperate.

It’s more like he’s letting himself finally believe he deserves to be cared for like this. And oh my god, the kisses. When Crowe kisses you, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world? It’s not just a kiss, okay? It’s an entire moment, a whole event. Like, “Shut up and take my soul, I guess this is my life now” kind of kiss. It’s breathtaking. You can’t just walk away from that; it stays with you.

Imagine this: you're just chilling on Crowe's bed, right? Lying there, talking about the most random stuff, maybe arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza or spiraling into some deep existential question. Just vibing, you know? 

And then… THEN, you start noticing the way he’s looking at you. Like, he’s not just glancing—he’s doing that triangle method thing. His eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, and you’re like, “Oh… oh he wants to kiss me. Like, RIGHT NOW.” You can feel it. It’s so obvious. He’s got that look, like you’re the only thing in the world he could possibly care about in this moment.  

And it’s so soft at first. You both kind of lean in, and his lips just barely brush yours, like he’s scared he’ll mess it up if he moves too fast. And let me tell you—his lips? SO soft, like pillowy clouds. They’re full and perfect, and the way he kisses you? It’s like he thinks you’re made of glass, like he’s handling the most delicate, precious thing in the entire universe.

But then… something changes.  

Like, something inside him snaps. It’s not just a kiss anymore—it’s a KISS. There’s this desperation, but not in a bad way. It’s like he’s been holding all these feelings in for so long, and now they’re just spilling out, like words he doesn’t know how to say with anything other than this kiss. His lips move with this crazy mix of hunger and tenderness like he’s trying to tell you without words how much you mean to him, how long he’s been waiting for this.  

And the wild part? You can feel it. Every ounce of longing, every stolen glance, every unsaid word—it’s all in that kiss. It’s sweet and fiery at the same time, like he’s savoring every second, but also like he’s terrified it’ll all just vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.  

And then when he pulls away? Oh my god. The way he looks at you. Those deep blue eyes of his just lock onto you, and it’s like the entire universe shrinks down to just the two of you. He rests his forehead against yours, catching his breath, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. It’s just there, written all over his face. That look that says, I’m gone for you. Completely, hopelessly yours.

Also, his hands? Oh, his hands tell their own story. They’re soft and deliberate, cupping your face like you’re his whole world, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheekbones. Sometimes, his fingers hold your hair, pulling you just a little closer like he can’t get enough. Other times, his hands settle on your waist, grounding him, but there’s this light tremble—like even touching you sends a wave of overwhelming affection through him.  

✑ Flaws? Hardly. But…

Crowe’s not perfect, but that’s the thing—his flaws are part of his charm, you know? 

Like, he’s this guy who’ll go out of his way to keep the peace. He’s not about unnecessary drama and will dodge a tough conversation if he can. But here’s the thing—his love for you? It’s bigger than his fear of awkwardness or confrontation. He’ll choose to work through it for the sake of the relationship every time. 

Take how he probably freaked out about confessing to you. Terrified. 

I bet he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he didn’t want to ruin what you two already had. But when push comes to shove, he’d face that fear head-on because, for him, it’s worth it. And don’t even get me started on what happens if someone dares to hurt or disrespect you. 

Sweet, peace-loving Crowe? Gone. You’ll see this bold, fiery version of him who’ll stand up for you without hesitation.

The thing about Crowe is he’ll do everything to make you happy, but sometimes he forgets about himself in the process. He’s so busy putting everyone else first that he can burn out or feel underappreciated, especially if he doesn’t see the same effort coming back. So yeah, remind him now and then that you’ve got his back too. He’ll probably act all humble about it, but he needs it.

And let’s be real—he’s not used to being the one cared for. Crowe’s always been the caretaker, so letting you in? Yeah, he’ll need a little nudge. (Cue those moments where he low-key deflects when it gets too real—classic fanfic material)

His conflict-avoidance thing? That’s where it gets tricky. Like, he won’t let you walk away from an argument upset—no chance. He’ll bend over backward to smooth things over because he has to see you happy. But if the shoe’s on the other foot? Spoiler alert: he might not just come out and say what’s bothering him. Instead, he’ll hit you with questions, all casual-like, about stuff that might be bugging him. It’s almost sneaky, but it’s totally him trying to figure things out without making it a thing.

And oh, my God, the romance. Crowe HAS TO BE extra af. Grand gestures, public displays—he’s all in, and everyone around you is swooning or jealous. It’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re the shy type?

Yeah, good luck with that.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

So, disclaimer upfront: none of this is canon, just my thoughts and headcanons. A lot of these ideas come from some scenes in the game (spoilers ahead) and his character profile, which I'll share at the end for context. 

Okay, so something about Crowe just screams "rich kid" to me. I know, it’s probably obvious to some people, but hear me out. In the game, he lives on the other side of town, right? And, spoilers, there’s that scene where he has a driver pick him up on the second day when you two get caught in the rain and at the end of the night, he has to go home.

Like, come on, rich people don’t just walk in the rain, they have drivers. Then let's talk about his clothes for a second. His shirts, especially that purple one, are super fancy. Like, where do you even buy a button-up shirt with that many buttons, and in that exact shade of purple? Not from a fast fashion store. I’m no expert on high-end clothes, but I’m pretty sure those are designer. 

Anyway, he’s definitely got a backstory in the whole “rich hierarchy” world, though I think he’s dropped down a peg or two. After all creator said so herself that Crowe story will be pretty rocky.

There are two ways you can lose that high-ranking rich status: either you flunk out of a class or you do something big that gets you kicked out. 

And with Crowe? I feel like it’s the second option. He’s definitely got that chip on his shoulder like he’s got something to prove, you know? That intense drive to show everyone that he’s more than just whatever they think of him.

— Example One! First-day scene.

So, if you choose the option (though, if I remember correctly, I think you’d become all overwhelmed), you end up having a little cry fest because you’re so worried about being too much for Crowe. 

You’re thinking you’re being overbearing, like maybe you’ve crossed a line, and it’s all too much. So, you’re crying up on the roof—classic, right? But after that, you dry those tears, pull yourself together, and go off to your next class. And, of course, Crowe finds you. And you know what? He’s already comforting you because he can see right through the tired, tear-streaked face and knows exactly what went down. 

But then, just when you think it’s a nice moment, someone from the student council shows up, searching for Crowe. They say he’s been looking for you all over the place, and they need him right now. And Crowe’s response? 

“I don’t fucking care…” Honestly, that moment threw me off guard, but also—like, low-key swoony? Like, you don’t see that kind of attitude every day, and it was kinda hot. 

— Then Crowe’s library scene—oh man.

So, Crowe kinda tests you there. He asks if you’d still stick by “Marie Antoinette” (which I think he’s talking about mom in metaphor) even with all the nasty rumors flying around about her. He’s basically asking if you’d trust her, or if you’d believe all the gossip from both the rich and poor folks alike. And the way he reacts if you choose to stay loyal to her? 

Tears in his eyes. Earn points. It’s heartbreaking, honestly. You can tell he’s got so much riding on that trust like it really means the world to him.

But if you fall for the rumors and go with what everyone else says, Crowe’s visibly upset, and you lose points for it. It’s a tough call, right? Like, on one hand, the rumors could be true, but on the other, I feel like you should trust the person you know best. Trust is everything to him, and it’s hard not to see that.

Also, I’m pretty sure Crowe is an only child. I’m just feeling that vibe, you know? I headcanon that his mom (or both parents, but mostly his mom) are always off working or traveling for work, leaving him alone for long stretches of time. So, he probably spends a lot of time by himself. 

That means he does all the household chores and probably picks up a lot of cooking skills, but here’s the thing: I don’t think he actually eats what he makes that often. He’s probably so used to being alone that he just makes meals for himself but ends up bringing the food to campus for you instead. It’s like a weirdly thoughtful gesture, even if it’s a little lonely at its core. 

— Okay, so I have to add to this because of the new Crowe update? 

Literally a chef's kiss. I just played it recently since I’ve been swamped with finals, so I’m a little behind, but omg. I’m so here for it. Like, I can't wait to see how the story unfolds and especially how Sol’s gonna react to everything. Dammit, creator, why make us wait for it? But honestly, I’ll wait. It’s gonna be worth it, I’m sure.

And, so before the update, Crowe was kinda just... there.

Like, we all knew we had a crush on him, but there wasn’t really much to grab onto, you know? But this update? Oh my god, it’s like they gave him a whole new personality and I’m living for it. He’s such a dreamboat prince now, I just wanna smother him in kisses! Like, mwah, mwah, mwah—someone stops me before I turn into a full-on fangirl. Or Sol himself.

For real, I was laughing the whole time, twirling my hair like some cheesy romcom character. He’s got this whole new charm that’s completely irresistible, and I’m just here for all of it. His vibes are adorable, lowkey a lil freak. If you know, you know.

Like, how did they make him so adorable all of a sudden? He’s the good boy we never knew we needed; he’s out here winning hearts left and right.

Seriously, how can you not love him now?

[a-hazbin-reader]

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Alastor eating bitches

Description: Alastor's X Wife!Reader who gets kidnapped and how he deals with that

Alastor's relationship with you is a strong one, the two of of you drawn to each other in an almost supernatural way

But you also trust each other's strengths and aren't prone to stepping in each other's fights

Regardless of how powerful you are

I got your pinkie fingers bby go kick his ass

Holds your shopping bags for you while you go kick ass

Unless of course you ask him to

He likes it when you fix his hair afterwards, preening like a giant rooster as you do

THE POINT IS-

It's not like Alastor spends all his time glued to your hip or sending you out with bodyguards

You can take a damn walk by yourself

You do have a target on back though, if not because of your own strength/actions, then because of your husband

So it's not unusual when someone tries to pick a fight with you

But when you're suddenly ambushed and kidnapped, against the fact that you fought hard to avoid it

Fucking holy weapons

That's new

Well I suppose you'll just have to wait for your husband to come and get you out of this mess

*spits out blood*

Not you bragging about how fucked your kidnappers are once Alastor gets there

He's already going to be mad that they kidnapped his wife, but the fact that they've now put hands on you??? Made you bleed???

Oh they're so fucked

So just sit back and look pretty while you wait for your boo to come and rescue you

And you do look pretty

Keep your damn hands off

Alastor knows something is up when you don't come home, knows that someone must've gotten to you

If the old geezer watched tv maybe he would've known a little sooner

Maybe he would've known that your little fight made the news

Tf was he gonna do?? Wait for it to show up in the papers??

BREAKING NEWS!! RADIO DEMON'S BABE WIFE GETS KIDNAPPED AFTER EPIC BATTLE!

But when Angel shows him that you've been kidnapped Alastor literally just-

Makes this face:

Oh he's getting his wife back

RIP Angel's phone 😭

He's visibly very calm about the whole thing though, which makes the others even more worried

"Well then! I suppose I'll have to get Y/N back myself, won't I? You all wait here, I won't be long now~"

Alastor does give them a chance to give you back before he comes and hunts them down

It's one of the most terrifying radio broadcasts people have listened to but this is his WIFE we're talking about

On the inside he is VERY ANGRY

Even if they do bring you back he still eats them

Fuck them he never promised them anything

They took and HURT HIS WIFE

If they don't bring you back then they're going to be subjected to slaughter like they've never known before being eaten

Not him using his massive demonic form to rip apart their safe house

Anyone who doesn't know Alastor like you do will think he's being surprisingly playful about it all

But as his wifers you know he's raging by the look in his eyes 👀 not merely playing with his food

Not wifey just sitting back and admiring Alastor while he works 💅✨️

Damn this is really doing it for me

Admires how elegantly you stretch and rub your wrists after your bindings are undone, so graceful even after taking a beating

"Thank you, Alastor~ Right on time as always~"

He begs to differ

"Anything for you, my dear."

Won't really look at you until you grab his chin and force him to, Alastor giving you a guilty smile

Le kiss

Leans in to touch foreheads with you, the two of relaxing in each other's arms amongst the carnage

Casually licks the blood off your face to ruin the moment before taking your arm

"Now let's get you home, my darling~"

Doesn't leave you alone for the rest of the night, trying to hide the fact that he's fretting over you

You want to take a bath and get cleaned up? He'll help you!

You want to lay down and rest after a stressful day? He's actually pretty tired too so you two should go to bed together

Will 100% broadcast their screaming souls as a warning to anyone else who wants to try that little stunt again

Falls asleep to it actually, one arm wrapped around you as he drifts off so that when he wakes up, he'll know you're right there with him

He doesn't think any less of you, he's been beat before too

Don't remind him

Will absolutely call himself your hero for like a week straight and land himself in the doghouse by the end of it

[kumkaniudaku]

Group Project

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.9k

MASTERLIST

"Okay. I think…I think I'm ready." 

For seven straight days, Asia moved through life, reliving her response to Kelvin and feeling like she'd just written a check her ass couldn't cash. The real thing. What the fuck had she agreed to?

As she sat next to Sabrina with her feet submerged in tepid, bubbling water, the reality of sex unspooling from a far away abstract thought into a tangible possibility with only hours separating her from facing her wildest fantasies smacked her so hard in the face she almost choked on the flat champagne sliding around her plastic cup. 

"Are you all right over there?" Sabrina asked without looking away from the laminated list of pedicure options. 

Asia attempted to take a steadying breath between coughs. "I think I'm dying," she sputtered. Another sip of the offending beverage helped force down residual mucus until she was able to speak without her throat burning. "Honestly, that might not be such a bad idea." 

"Oh, girl. You're losing your virginity, not going off to fight on the frontlines. Tighten up!" 

"Sabrina," Asia whisper-yelled before shooting a nervous grimace meant as a smile to a few older women thumping about in the massage chairs across from them. "You wanna tell everybody my business over the PA system or tap folks individually?" 

Rolling her eyes, Sabrina passed the laminated menu of pedicures to Asia before taking a sip of red wine. "I'm just sayin', friend. I came out today to help you loosen up, but you're stressin' me out. If you're having second thoughts, I'm sure your man will let you reschedule. I heard y'all on the phone earlier. He seems nice enough."

"I don't want to reschedule. I wanna do it tonight. I'm just…I don't know. I'm nervous about the before stuff. If that goes wrong, the whole night is ruined." 

Asia had spent the better part of a week trying to negotiate with the truth, only to realize that reality drove a hard bargain. She couldn't escape the rising tide of nascent romance threatening to wash away all her preconceived notions about her place in love land. He had to know their no-strings-attached suddenly developed enough strings to power a symphony.

For years, she'd convinced herself that time had passed her by. There were no more opportunities for first dates or first kisses. Men worth their snuff in the world wouldn't waste their time with a woman so demonstrably unsexy that she made Mother Teresa look like a lingerie model. Long-term relationships were for your early 20s. And if those days were lost to being dismissed by any potential love interest within the county line, one was essentially doomed to a life of pet-fostering and spending Valentine's Day indoors to avoid spilling your patheticness on people who'd figured out the game. 

Then came Kelvin, who, by all accounts, seemed to neatly pack each of her insecurities and hang-ups into a tiny box before chucking them into the wind. Asia couldn't understand why he hadn't dropped the entire experiment to canoodle, with women undoubtedly vying for his attention. She knew falling for your first, no matter what stage of life the experience found you, was a rookie mistake. But, the wrongs felt so right with him. How could she not at least try?

Sabrina paused her perusal of neon gel nail lacquer and smiled at her friend. "That boy likes you, Asia." Her matter-of-fact delivery came with a light chuckle as she pushed Asia's shoulder for emphasis. "He's not taking you on a date and sending flowers to the house because y'all are best pals. You can spend today worryin' yourself crazy, but I'm tellin' you it's for no reason. Get out of your head. Take it from somebody who is just now realizing her man never really liked her."

"Damn. I'm guessing you and Eric are back off?"

"Girl, yes. For good. But whatever, it's fine." Sabrina scoffed, waving Asia off as if her split second of vulnerability was nothing more than an observation about the weather, and smiled. "Today's about you! We gon' get these nails done, grab you something sexy for the art hoe, and teach you how to use lube. Condoms are being used, right?"

Asia's eyes darted around the room to catch horrified reactions from anyone who might've heard her business being openly discussed. "Bitch!" She lowered her voice before responding. "Yes, we are using condoms. I went and got them myself."

"That's what the fuck I'm talking about. I got this silicone-based lube that I know you'll love. Makes it feel like nothing's separating y'all. My girl is rubbing fronts tonight! Yesss!" 

"Oh God," Asia groaned as she slouched further into her chair, wishing she could poof into a thin layer of pixie dust if it meant she could escape embarrassment. "I'm gonna die."

Throat clearing and the grating squeak of leather under shifting weight stopped Sabrina's ongoing teasing mid-sentence to bring their attention to a greying black woman with curiosity etched in her barely wrinkled face. "Now, I know y'all weren't talking to me, but I need the name of that lube. Do I need to order it off the Amazon? I just got Prime from my son for Christmas." 

"Oop. I got you, Auntie. Let me see your phone." 

While Sabrina drew in a small crowd of elders looking to get back in the saddle with some slippery assistance, Asia found solace in another scroll of her favorite text thread. 

Can't wait to see you later Missed your face this week

Kelvin's last message included an air kiss gif that Asia would consider corny if not for the sender. Pitch decks, client meetings, and last-minute PTO set them on paths winding in different directions, stealing away all chances at a face-to-face meeting before they were body-to-body. 

If not for an impromptu call before the sun could fully take its rightful place in the sky, all communication would belong to iMessages full of jokes with no context and memes they considered fully fleshed-out thoughts. 

Asia read each message repeatedly just to feel the flutter of butterflies in every corner of her belly. He liked her. He had to. The sweet messages, the peach tulips bound in a pretty brown bow, and the early morning wake-up call couldn't all be kind gestures from a friend. Right? 

An internal battle between logic and wishful thinking played out in Asia's mental colosseum. She volleyed a million possible outcomes back and forth until stilted buzzing and a quiet trill against her wrist drew her attention to an incoming FaceTime call from the man of the hour. 

She slid in an earbud and then answered, instantly smiling as she watched his chain bob back and forth with every step while he kept the camera positioned below his face. Grown-out facial hair created the right amount of scruffiness to turn the heads of young and old women alike. His baseball cap cast a shadow across his cheeks. A cerulean sky boasting specks of fluffy white clouds and bright rays of flattering light highlighted the gleam in his earrings. It fanned outward, turning him into a walking, talking work of art. 

When he finally realized the call had connected and he had the rapt attention of his lone audience member, he looked down and grinned. "What's all that about?" 

"All what?" 

"That little smile," he chuckled. "You showin' teeth and everything, girl. Must be happy to see me." 

Caught. Asia tried to return to a neutral expression but found her face ignoring mental orders to accommodate more and more cheek burning as her smile grew wider. "Whatever! This is your second time calling. You need something, or you just like to hear me talk?" 

"Both," he answered, splitting his attention between an incoming crosswalk and the screen. The usual playfulness in his tone abruptly dissipated, leaving behind a seriousness Asia hadn't experienced. He looked down at her and licked his lips before speaking again. "I just, um…I wanted you to know that I'm cool with not staying the night. That was one of your rules, so don't think you have to change it on account of me. I'll leave in the middle of the night if that means you're comfortable." 

"I want you to stay, Kel. But only if you want to." 

"I already got my bag packed with extra pajamas and my laptop just in case this turns into a whole weekend. C'mon, now. This me you talking to!" 

Asia lifted a brow, shocked by his eagerness to spend days on end in her cramped apartment. "My bad! Didn't know you'd be so excited for a sleepover with little 'ol me." 

"I'm always excited to be with you," he answered. Dual smiles radiating from opposite ends of the city held steady over the phone until Kelvin pulled open a door and ushered in a harsh mix of sounds. "I gotta go. My boy's already on my ass for being late. He about to lose his tip, to be honest."

Asia's laughter drew attention, forcing her to shoo Sabrina away before she could interrupt. "Go ahead and get your haircut. Let me see when you're – girl, go away!"  

"Tell your girl I said 'hey,'" Kelvin chuckled as he eased his way into an empty barber chair. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, trying to commit her scrunched nose and knitted brows to memory in case their time together was winding down. "I gotta go. I'll see you later, pretty." 

Her farewell was lost to petty arguments with her best friend on her end and a groundswell of hooping and hollering behind an offending opinion amongst a shop full of men on his side. A huff of air pushed past his lips in a short laugh as he slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. 

His barber and friend, Brandon, shook his head and tapped his foot on the pedal to lift Kelvin to the right height. "That's shorty from the bar that night? China?" 

"Asia," Kelvin corrected, a miffed frown deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth. "And, yeah. That's her." 

"My fault. You be way too secretive though, bro. How did y'all meet? Do you like her? Y'all just kickin' it? Tell me something, or I'm fuckin' up the fade."

Black nylon cascading in front of his face gave Kelvin a split second to decide how much information he could share with his notoriously talkative right-hand man without opening the door to prying questions and needless revelations. 

He scratched at the itching hair on his jawline, trying to appear nonchalant. "We met at work. She was new, I showed her around, and now we cool. Simple." An instant smile betrayed his forced tough-guy act. 

"Nah, you cheesin'! Tell the real story!"

The poker face he'd tried to maintain continued to slip into a full display of all thirty-plus teeth. 

"Alright, alright," Kelvin conceded. For months, he kept the truth relegated to his personal journal and mental interviews with Jimmy Kimmel while he practiced for superstardom in the shower. At least one other person should hear how he willingly tangled himself in Asia Scott's web. "I actually saw her when she interviewed. Bad, bro. I'm talkin' make you stop in your tracks just to watch her walk by type fine. Had me stuck at the coffee bar looking stupid." 

Brandon hummed as he pushed Kelvin's head down to start his cut. "Mhmm. That's how it starts, for real. She said something to you first, or what?" 

"Nah, I approached her. Not even trying to cross that line, really. I was supposed to just say what's up and keep it professional, but I couldn't stop talking after that. Next thing I know, we eating lunch, and I'm askin' this girl about her goals and shit." Kelvin laughed to himself while internally watching the memory unfold like a rom-com for his heart and mind only.  "She ain't ask nothin' about me, and I ain't even care. I just wanted to be around her."

"Sound like you got it bad, my boy."

Kelvin released an air he didn't know he was holding through his nose. "Yeah, man. I like her. A lot, actually. I'm thinkin' about saying something when we go out tonight, but…I don't know. It might not be the right time considering what I got goin' on."

"They must be talkin' 'bout some money in Chicago." 

"And then some," Kelvin added. "Crazy perks, revenue share, development plans. My whole life might change."

A loose connection from portfolio school and an expensive cold brew on a rainy weekday afternoon turned Kelvin's professional world upside down in less than two weeks. Initially, he wasn't interested in a move, even if the current work was no longer challenging and forward motion had stalled. His job was easy, flexible, and enough to pay the bills with a little extra on the side. But, a half-hour chemistry meeting with two creative leads over Zoom ran fifteen minutes too long from vibes alone. Then, solid chemistry turned into a first-round interview with a few department heads ogling over his professional and personal work for almost an hour before promising to keep in touch. Radio silence on their end for over a week convinced Kelvin that the circus was over, and he was free to go back to his life of easy money for even easier work. Hell, he didn't want to live in cold-ass Chicago anyway. 

Then the phone rang. And the inbox blew up. Flights got booked. Hotel arrangements were made. Hasty, last-minute PTO requests were granted in good faith. Tired eyes shielded by blue light lenses watched clouds part over a glittering city from thousands of feet in the air. A non-traditional second-round interview over piping hot pizza turned him into the center of attention. Corporate banter while he sipped freezing cold beer in lower-level seats at a Bulls game ended with a handshake and Kelvin sensing that he'd have a decision on his hands in the coming weeks. 

Asia. She popped into his mind more than a few times while too-cool advertising types wined and dined him in hopes his talent would fill out their roster. All of the progress, all of the accidentally tender moments and slip-ups he knew in his heart were more than happy accidents flooded him with ceaseless anxiety. Sure, he could see them planning weekend trips back and forth to keep the flame alive in a budding relationship. Long-distance courtship wasn't ideal, but he'd manage for her. However, his feelings about the matter were inconsequential. One false move, and he'd be out of a friend and potential lover. The thought alone threatened to upend a night he'd carefully planned since they agreed to their unconventional arrangement. 

The soft buzz of clippers near his right ear rescued Kelvin from spiraling as chunks of dead hair fell around him. 

"Aye, man, I ain't no love expert or nothing, but," Brandon started, his attention far off while he focused on his money-making blend. "You like her. I could tell when you brought her over to us that night, but I ain't wanna blow up your spot. Might as well say something. Why you wanna go to Chicago with regrets? You already 'bout to be up there with a slaw ass haircut because I ain't givin' up no contacts. Lose my number after this, nigga." 

Kelvin kissed his teeth and waved Brandon off. "I deleted your contact this morning if we being honest. Been tired of your ass." 

Shared laughter between two men who'd seen each other, from the naivety of boyhood to the hurdles and joys on the journey to becoming a man, added levity to a bitter inner storm. Kelvin tried to savor the moment and advice without dwelling on impending decisions but found the task harrowing once he popped the bubble they'd created to re-enter the real world. 

Regrets. Kelvin had a lot of them. Skipping out on senior prom, not answering his sister's FaceTime call for free Kendrick Lamar tickets, choosing that sketchy roommate to make ends meet in his first year out of school – the list went on and on. Asia couldn't be one of them. Not knowing if there could've been more would gnaw at him til kingdom come, and he didn't have room to harbor more what-ifs.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Asia, half listening to instructions with sweaty palms and a heart nearly cracking ribs in his chest, Kelvin resolved to use his last bits of nerve to step out on a limb. 

Sax heavy jazz selections wrapped a rented test kitchen and the couples within its walls in a sensual embrace under dim yellow light. Kelvin had TikTok and a favor to thank for snagging the final spot in Shawn and Terricka's coveted Couples Night In cooking course. In one night, he and Asia would take a culinary trip to Italy, complete with expert wine pairings and handmade pasta to bring them together as two parts of a whole. Kelvin couldn't say he was much of a fettuccine, linguini, bow tie, rigatoni guy. Still, he'd never forget how Asia's face lit up when she showed him videos of young women making noodles from scratch. He went to the ends of the Earth and his wallet to orchestrate an experience she wouldn't forget on a night when every detail down to the minute required perfection.

"Are you listening?" Asia asked with a teasing smile as she adjusted the complementary apron, shielding her from what was sure to be a mess if she had anything to do with it. 

He puffed his chest and straightened before clapping his hands and looking around their station at the ingredients in front of them. "Y-yeah. I heard everything she said. Eggs, flour, this thing…" He paused to satisfy his curiosity with a single crank of the pasta roller's handle before continuing. "It's, uh…all here." 

Asia watched him search the depths of his mind for any crumb of retained information, enjoying the way his lips shifted back and forth in pensive silence. 

Overhead light bathed Kelvin in a flattering glow, making the small stud in his ear and the watch on his wrist shine each time he moved his head. A soft black cashmere cardigan cradled strong arms, while his signature crisp white T-shirt displayed his broadening chest. His fresh haircut and trimmed facial hair sent tingles to all the right places, reminding Asia of the first time she noticed he was fine. 

"You're cute when you pretend you know what you're doing." 

Kelvin gave her a half smile without tearing his eyes away from the short list of step-by-step instructions in his hand. "Oh yeah? Only then?" 

"Well, all the time. But especially when you're thinking. Like how you're trying to remember Terricka's instructions when she hasn't even given us any yet. She was introducing the class and telling us we'd be sharing a little about ourselves in a bit.”

A sheepish grin preceded a gentle bump against Asia's forearm before Kelvin's shoulders bounced in quiet laughter. "Why you doin' me like that? If you didn't look so damn good in this dress, we'd have a problem." 

"Oh, so it's the dress?" Asia quipped as Kelvin leaned back for a better look. 

He nodded and reached out to pull her closer by the waist. His lips quickly found a home on her ear to keep their conversation private in a room full of chattering adults. "It's more than the dress. You're gorgeous, baby." 

Sweet compliments mumbled against soft, brown skin drowned out couple after couple sharing their names, length of relationship, and fun facts until a loud hand clap snapped Asia and Kelvin's attention to the center of the room. 

"And you two," Shawn questioned with all eyes directed toward the youngest two in attendance. "Tell us about your love." 

Kelvin gripped Asia tighter and cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm Kelvin, and this is Asia."

"Hey, y'all," Asia chimed with a quick wave. 

"And we're…" Kelvin looked at Asia, smiling at her while she smiled back at him, to find an explanation for what they'd been doing for a month. "We're enjoying our time together." His gaze remained steadfast on Asia's bashful grin. "Maybe we'll finish tonight on a different note, though." 

Red wine, teamwork, and a stack of questions printed on thick white note cards would ensure that the pair at least ended their first date with a greater understanding of each other. Asia learned Kelvin was an artist in every sense of the word. He preferred freestyling the tedious pasta recipe when directions called for specificity in every regard. Asia kept them on task, but not without redirecting her excitable companion along the way. 

Kelvin quickly discovered that all of Asia's know-how completely disappeared when faced with kitchen matters. She didn't know a ¼ cup from a half and didn't have any intentions of learning. Her forte was delegating tasks, not sullying her painted fingernails and oiled cuticles with egg yolks and wet dough. 

Separately, they were a clusterfuck of missing parts trying to navigate an arduous task. Together, though, they crafted the best mafaldine their instructors for the night had ever seen from amateurs. 

Tucked in a corner at the far end of the space's makeshift eating area, Kelvin and Asia plucked cards one after the other in a back-and-forth Q&A over flavorful mafaldine pasta bolognese. 

"Mm, this is a good one," Asia said after a sip of cabernet. "What is your favorite thing about your partner? What's one thing you would change?" 

Kelvin twirled pasta around his fork and thought for a moment. "You don't take a lot of shit. I like that you're very direct and in charge of what you want." 

"And something you would change?" 

"That's easy," he answered through a chew. "You're too hard on yourself. I wish you could see yourself how everyone else sees you. I know you think we're all just being nice, but you really are incredible. I love watching you blossom." Kelvin watched Asia digest his words over her glass, the wheels churning in her active mind. He reached across the table to grab another card. "What's one thing you want me to know about our relationship?" 

That I'm falling for you, and I don't want this to end. One hundred answers flooded in at once, but Asia settled on one. "I want you to know how appreciative I am for…all this. You've been kind when you could've called me a loser and left me in that bar to be with your friends." 

"I wouldn't have done that, Asia. Not to you." 

"I know," Asia assured as she dragged the last vowel. "But, you could've. So, thank you for being so kind and patient. By tomorrow, that'll all be done, and we'll go back to our lives, so I didn't wanna miss the chance to let you know how I feel." 

Confusion made Kelvin tilt his head to one side, studying her face under the haze of full-bodied wine and growing affection. "Go back to my life? Where's that coming from?"

"I just mean, it seems like we're coming to the natural end of this thing we're doing. We'll still be friends, but you'll be free to fly. Maybe sweep somebody off their feet. You're good at that," Asia clarified, her smile lingering as the familiar bloom of feelings coursing through her veins made her stomach flutter.

Kelvin placed his fork against his plate before pulling the napkin from his lap and depositing it on the table. No regrets. Now or never. A short laugh brought with it a charming grin aimed at his favorite girl. 

"Asia, I guess haven't been super clear with you from the start,"  He started while motioning for her hand in the center of the table. Asia answered his wordless call and placed her fingers in the center of his warm palm. He leaned closer, hoping she could detect his eyes' sincerity when he finally breathed out, "I like you, Asia. Shit, even 'like' is too small," He laughed. "I…I adore you. I crave you. I look forward to seeing you. I think about you constantly. I feel connected to you. I want to be with you. Does any of that make sense?" 

Asia sat stone still and unblinking for a moment, mulling over words she had only dreamt of hearing from another. An explicit declaration of intent – feeling foreign in her ears but familiar to a heart that longed for reciprocation. 

Her thumb caressed the back of Kelvin's hand as a smile spread her cheeks to their limit and deepened dimples she almost forgot existed. "Guess I'm a better kisser than I thought, huh?"

"Actually, I don't know. Let me check real quick." Metal dragging across stained concrete brought Kelvin's chair closer to Asia until their knees touched, transferring heat between their bodies. His fingers grazed her jawline, never averting his attention from her equally unwavering gaze. "Come here." 

Asia's favorite command, delivered in a sultry mumble, made hair all over her body stand straight up as they moved to meet each other in the middle. 

One tentative peck introduced a slow progression of deep, passionate kisses, translating latent feelings into a language only bodies could speak. A barely audible moan slipped out of Asia's mouth when Kelvin nipped at her lip, reminding them an audience wasn't far away. They pulled away slowly with equally glazed-over eyes and goofy grins.

Kelvin smiled and swiped at Asia's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Way better." He listened to her sweet giggle, grinning back until the sound reminded him of the question left unanswered. "Look, four weeks didn't spark how I feel about you. They helped, don't get me wrong, but I knew I wanted you as more than a friend the second you strolled into that office. If we're not on the same page, I understand. But if there's any chance we are, any chance –" 

"We're on the same page, same sentence, same word. But we can talk about what all that means tomorrow, okay?" Carnal desire propelled Asia forward for another slow kiss and feather-soft caress that threatened to bring Kelvin to his knees. She inched away to keep her lips on his as she spoke. "Right now, take me home. I don't wanna wait anymore."

------

Hopefully, Alister liked SZA. 

As barely intelligible love songs oozed from her Bluetooth speaker, Asia attempted to stifle sounds of pleasure with her forearm pressed against her mouth and one leg draped lazily over her lover's shoulder. Languid, thorough oral affection kept her lower back levitated off the mattress. Soft moaning melding with subtle slurping and smacking treated her ears to a beautiful symphony catered to her. 

Kelvin's fingers pressed into Asia's flesh to keep her steady while he lapped at the beginning of what he hoped was only her first orgasm for the night. Nervousness had him self-conscious. Skills he'd practiced and mastered long before she stepped into his life felt foreign. Was he doing it right? Did she like it? Was she happy? He suppressed the urge to question her satisfaction, instead leaning on every wanton sigh and muffled moan as proof he was on the right path. 

"Oh my God," Asia whispered to the ceiling. "Don't stop!" 

Immeasurable euphoria washed over her naked body as her hips bucked to accommodate electric shocks from head to toe. Hey, eyes crossed behind closed lids. Her toes curled while all ten fingers gripped the sheets. 

"One down," Kelvin thought to himself as he smiled against thighs pressed tight to his face. 

If not for her hand prying his face away after she'd exhausted herself from cumming, he'd start from scratch and bring her to the mountaintop until his jaws locked. But, he relented under her breathless pleas for a break. 

Slowly, Kelvin kissed his way up Asia's belly, making pit stops at both breasts and his favorite spot beneath her right ear before connecting their lips. They groaned at her taste intermingling with remnants of alcohol while their tongues reacquainted in a waltz too perfect to be a sin. He could feel his rational thoughts running south to stiffen his neglected member against briefs, growing more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Kelvin shifted his attention back to Asia's neck so he could speak against the spot. "You feel ready or need more?" His tongue sliding across the pulsing stretch of hot skin made Asia shiver under his body weight. He smiled and pulled back to get a better look at Asia's face. "You feel ready. Talk to me, pretty." 

"Okay," she answered as her arms encircled his neck. "Promise you'll go slow?" 

He nodded before dipping his head to peck her lips. "As slow as you need. I'll take care of you."

Years of waiting for someone to cherish her enough to take the plunge had culminated in undergarments discarded across the room and a single sleeve of thin latex covered in expensive lube separating her from the only man to see her in her most vulnerable form. 

This was it. This was the moment. She'd dreamed about it plenty of times, imagining the most minute details, from the weather to how she'd sound at the height of her climax. Mirages filled with rose petals on the floor and a soft breeze coming through the window made up a scenario better suited for a romance novel than the reality of finally releasing pent-up sexual tension.

Asia expected pain for the first time. She'd heard the horror stories and done enough research to know what was waiting on the other side of first-time penetration. Breathing recommendations and practiced facial expressions to mask her true feelings came flooding back to the front of her mind as Kelvin ran his palms up and down her hips to soothe her while he positioned himself at her entrance. She held her breath. Waiting, anticipating limb-splitting fire to consume her body.

But, as Kelvin slowly sank into her and twin groans of pure, unadulterated ecstasy eclipsed the opening notes of Love Galore, all of her assumptions became background fodder. 

Asia gripped Kelvin's tensed bicep while he stilled deep in her heat, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. "You okay," He questioned through shallow pants.

"Mhmm," she hummed before reaching to bring his face closer. "You feel so good already." Kelvin closed his eyes to will away premature release while she pulsed around him. Asia stroked his cheek and arched into his chest to beg him to move inside her. "Please. I trust you, Kel. It's okay." 

As promised, Kelvin started slow, rolling his hips into her for shallow strokes that made Asia's voice hoarse and her head spin. He reveled in the feel of ridged walls greeting his arrival as they tugged and released him according to pace. He lowered himself into the crook of her neck and felt instant relief when she cradled him close. The bed creaked in time to every measured back and forth, adding another layer to the duet their individual moaning created. 

Hot, slick skin on crumpled cold sheets wouldn't allow Asia to drift too far into La La Land. She feasted on Kelvin digging deeper and gripping her tighter while her body did the work to accommodate inch after glorious inch. 

Kelvin tried to remain quiet, tempering each grunt and unidentifiable sound as his hips loosened to find a rhythm perfect enough to elicit high-pitched mewls from the apple of his eye while she dug her fingernails into his back. 

"Look at you," Kelvin cooed as he pushed back up onto his forearms to get the full experience of Asia's face twisting in pleasure. "You're so fucking pretty. Open your eyes." 

"Kel…" 

He moved to bring one leg up to his waist for a new angle. "I'm right here, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me. Your first time only happens once. Don't look away." He waited patiently for Asia to force her sagging lids open enough to reveal the punchdrunk haze of a methodical fucking. He smiled down at her. "There she is. How you feelin'?" 

"So…oh my God…so good." 

"That's what I like to hear. I feel you getting close. You feel that?" 

A long, choppy moan came out before Asia's slurred response. "Mhmm. I think I'm…. mmm, I think I'm… I'm close." 

"Yeah, you are. Relax for me. Breathe deep." Asia tried to keep track of instructions but lost the plot and her sense of hearing the moment Kelvin slipped his hand between them to rub her clit with his thumb. 

The barely familiar coil of release tightened in her lower abdomen as Kelvin rocked into her while whispering sweet everything onto the corner of her mouth. Asia wrapped her arms around his shoulders for stability, anticipating the first wave of heat trying to prepare her body for something more intense. 

Her breathing grew rigid. The world slipped away pixel by pixel. Thoughts turned into mush. Kelvin's instructions returned as fleeting anecdotes. Asia tried to breathe through it but found the task playing second fiddle to the natural tense and release of her thighs around his waist. 

In through your nose, Asia. The reminder pinged around the empty corners of her mind until they found a way to burrow into the only functioning part of her brain. 

Kelvin watched her cycle through a range of all too familiar feelings from overhead, pride, and a competitive spirit he thought he left in high school, convincing him to go above and beyond. He drove his hips a little harder to hear the headboard thumb against paper-thin drywall. Added pressure on her sensitive button was the magic key to turning a small pond into one of the great lakes. 

Asia's jaw dropped to force out a throaty, "Fuck, baby…yes!" before he eased up to allow her to experience all the joy of post-coital bliss without the overstimulation. He'd save that for another time if the universe allowed. 

Sabrina was so wrong about what to expect. All Asia's hang-ups about ending the night unsatisfied or unimpressed were washed away as sensation returned to her fingers and toes. 

"Kiss me." It's all she wanted – Kelvin's lips on hers until her oxygen became his. 

They lay there, hot, sweaty, and still connected at the waist while Kelvin pressed tender kisses on Asia's lips. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "You called me 'baby.'" 

"I know," she answered as she brought her hand up to rub a spot at the base of his neck. "I meant to. Don't make me regret it." 

Guilt smacked into Kelvin like an 18-wheeler, but he maintained his composure to maintain the hopeful smile on Asia's face. "I won't." 

"Good. Don't hold back on me this time. I want all of you." 

"This time" turned into another, a short break and a few more for good measure while SZA sang them into the wee hours of the morning. Kelvin poured himself into making every minute worth Asia's while as a reward for trusting him with her body. 

Chicago and its host of budding issues belonged to another day. He wasn't leaving the room, her apartment, or the city with any regrets. Not while he still had so many more lessons to teach.

-------

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Love grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི COD MASTERLIST Part of the Sweet As Sugar Series

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི simon riley x (afab) baker! reader (final chapter)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Another date is planned however is promplty ruined, leaving the both of you trying to do your best in the situation. Thankfully, Simon's a sweetheart, and you love him too much to let him go for a second.

a/n: this is the final chapter guys, im so upset that it's ending but thats why this chapter is extra long lol. also yes the title is based on that song, it actually inspired a large majority of this fic WC: 7.4K

cw: period comfort

PREV

-----------------

Simon was confident— really confident. After the initial embarrassment of suddenly kissing you, it came with a wave of pride for flustering you so much. He had so many doubts when he first realised he actually wanted to pursue you— unsure if you’d even consider him an option, given his stark silence around most. Of course, there was the matter of his work too, and everything else that came with being a man like him. Sure, he was a little—a lot— messed up in the head, but he knew to himself he’d never hurt you; that’s the one thing he could trust.

There was no need to take you out on an abundance of dates when being with you like this was satisfying enough, however, he really did want to spoil you at least a little. An expensive restaurant or maybe he could even take you down to London for a weekend; the ideas have been spilling into his head every night just as you’ve been telling him about all the fun activities you want to try with him. But he’s still not able to get a suitable amount of time off, so a night out will have to do.

He had considered booking out a really fancy venue, but you seemed like you’d get shy if you were thrown on the spot into that, so he thought what better than in the comfort of your own town? Maybe he could even bake something for you— not that he was half as good of a cook as you were, but damn, it’s the thought that counts, right? His mind has been occupied trying to think of the perfect idea for his last few days of training. In fact it was so much so that Price stared at him in confusion when he let out a curse from walking straight into a door. He was still annoyed about that, but he was more concerned about how he’d ask you. What if he was jumping the gun, and you wanted to take things really slow? Though.. He did kiss you straight up and you certainly didn't complain about that.

So eventually you had received the text, telling you to meet him next Friday for dinner at a restaurant near your bakery. It wasn't too fancy, but he knew they served some damn good food, and he was willing to buy you the entire menu if you so wished. Of course, you were over the moon about it, spending the majority of that evening looking for the perfect outfit before settling on something a little formal yet casual all the same. You bought a brand-new pair of shoes to complete it, and now you try the outfit on literally any chance you get just to make sure it’s perfect.

——

“Hi Simon.” You’re practically grinning from ear to ear, and it’s not even Wednesday yet, only Saturday; not to mention how your voice is practically brimming with excitement. He steps forward, noticing how your hands are planted on the counter like you’re impatiently waiting for him to come even closer. 

“Someone’s excited.” He hums and, before he can even order, you have the paper bag filled with his usual placed upon the counter along with a freshly brewed black coffee. 

“Can you blame me? The whole week I haven't seen you.”

Simon loves the little frown on your lips when you say that, especially because you haven't failed to drop subtle hints every time you text him about wanting him to stop by. Life’s been particularly hectic the past two weeks, but you’ve been so understanding about all of it; at least you’ll be very happy on Friday with what he has planned. 

“I know, ‘m sorry about that.” He takes the coffee cup gratefully, quickly sliding his payment in the tip jar before you can swat his hand away like you always try to do. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” Content, you nod along, joyful for a sliver of his time even when you know he’s working hard for something that’s being planned soon. You know he can't tell you much, so you appreciate any sliver of information he grants, but you’d rather take his time than answers.

——

The door jingles faintly as another customer enters; it’s midday on Wednesday, and you’ve been baking all day whilst your family runs the shop. Simon’s finally got a lunch break that he can actually sit down for, and so he makes his best decision which is to facetime you. As always, the pair of you talk about whatever, and you do your best to smile wide, fingers sticky as you knead your knuckles into the great pound of bread dough.

Although, Simon’s been growing a little concerned, repetitively watching your brows furrow when you think he’s not really looking at you, or trailing off into silence when you run out of things to say. “Hey, love.” You hum in return, shaping the dough into smaller bun sizes, movements a little more sluggish than per usual. “Are you okay?” Immediately, your eyes snap up and stare forward at him, almost like you’re frozen, before nodding your head quickly and returning to the dough again.

 “Yeah.. yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

If he had doubts before, he was positive now as you falter, eyes drooping a little more. “You're exhausted. What time did you go to bed last night?” There it is, his lieutenant tone coming out and making you frown at him as he uses it against you. 

“Only ten thirty.. That’s not even that late.” You groan, moving the phone to face the ceiling so he stops scrutinising your eye bags.

“And what time did you get up, huh?”

“Seven thirty! It wasn't even that early.” You’re right though, and he can't even be mad. That’s around nine hours of sleep, which is plenty for your age and what you need. So why do you look like you’re about to topple over and use that bread as a pillow?

“You’re not lying, are you?”

“Hey— I am not!”

He sighs, knowing he’ll likely not get much farther like this, especially if it really wasn't your fault. It’s only Wednesday, but still, he really doesn't want you to be ill for Friday. “Make sure you look after yourself okay? Sleep earlier if you have to.”

And then he’s gone, probably rushed away from his already short lunch break. You sigh quietly, upset he’s gone but also feeling like you somehow annoyed him. Guilty, you shove your earphones in, an uneasy feeling settling in your gut.

——————-

It’s Friday evening when he drives by, stopping outside the bakery. The lights are off, signalling you’re probably upstairs finishing up. He sends a quick text over, letting you know he’s arrived whilst he leans against the passenger door. A bouquet of flowers is held behind his back, similar to the ones on your prized mug— he just hopes he really has the right ones, and you're not actually allergic to them or something. Then you arrive in your pretty outfit, his eyes raking over your form as you smile at him, lips glossy. As you walk down the steps, he can't help but notice how tired you look despite the attempt to use makeup to cover it up; there’s no way he is just going to let that slide. “Hey, hey wait.. You do not look good at all.” He frowns at you, taking one of your smaller hands in his and pulling you forward as he looks over you. 

“I don't look good?” You freeze, staring at him like he just insulted your entire existence, which he may as well have if you heard that correctly. The sound of your voice sounding so hurt is enough for him to realise his minor mistake, chuckling softly as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Not..what I meant, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunnin’ but… also exhausted, are you sure you’re up for this?”

You blink at him, as if not believing his words in the slightest. “I told you the other day I was fine—can we just go?” The words tumble out, and you noticeably wince at your own impatient tone— you did not mean to say it like that.

  For a second you pause, eyes glancing everywhere as you try to save it, but he just nods his head, pulling the bottom of his mask down again and placing the bouquet in your hands. “Alright, alrigh’. And these are for you, pretty girl.”

——

Despite his reaction, the ride is silent apart from the soft sound of your favourite music playing, though it only serves to make you feel all the more guilty. The restaurant isn't too far away, only a half an hour drive, but it feels like forever especially with how quiet the two of you currently are right now. Annoyingly enough, there’s absolutely no parking nearby, making him mutter a curse beneath his breath before doing a U-turn and parking two streets down. “Sorry, love. Gonna have to walk it.” He looks a little disappointed as he gets out of the car with you following behind before he can open the door for you—that’d make you feel even more guilty. Your small purse is clutched in your hand as you shake your head, trying your best to make up for your behaviour. “T-that's fine, really. I can walk.”

The streets aren't quiet today, a couple of teenagers laughing loudly and a few retail workers finishing their shifts, packing to go home. It’s only seven, but you have no doubt that it’ll only grow louder as more people celebrate the arrival of the weekend. It’s going fine now—at least you think it is. Simon’s talking with his voice low, something about a shop he saw when driving through the other day. Ever since he had fixed up your entire bakery, he’s been oddly intrigued by every deal he sees, tempted to keep himself busy and with the best tools too of course. In your head, it’s his own strange way of spoiling himself. 

You’re really trying to pay attention as he tells you the homeware store nearby is shutting down— you’re hanging onto every word, you swear— but every time another shot of pain riles up your abdomen your breath hitches.  After the first time it happened, he had turned to you in concern, and you pretended to cough, saying you needed to clear your throat. Contemplative, he eventually insisted that you drink some water before he began speaking again, hand gently holding yours as he looked at the restaurants you pass. 

“Hm.. Pottery painting? Didn’t you want to try that out? Maybe you should come here next time.”

“Oh yeah.. I- I should. Hey what about that store across the street? Do you think they got any good antiques to decorate the shop?” Okay, you may have baited him to look away whilst you’re half-keeled over from another stomach cramp–your hand fighting its hardest not to squeeze his one. “Maybe I can have a look later.” He hums in response, turning his head just a second after you stand back upright and smile at him like nothing happened.

Though, you would be incredibly stupid to think you could fool an SAS operator of all people, let alone one that loves you.

His steps have frozen to a stop, the Lieutenant in him coming to show why he has that title when he eyes you down suspiciously, watching every twitch in your demeanour when you look at him, swallowing sharply. “You’re not okay, are you?”

 “What? I’m fine. What kind of restaurant are we going to? I’m already getting hungry just thinking—” You cut yourself off when you notice how his eyebrow is very clearly raised beneath the mask, silently questioning you. He’s not actually mad.. You hope, though you don't get a second longer to consider it before another sharp pain stings your abdomen, making your hand clench your hip. You know that was his last straw when he grunts, Adam's apple bobbing as he watches your features form a grimace, clearly in pain. 

“You’re going home.” He states simply, squeezing your palm in his before pulling you back in the direction you came from. 

“Wait, but it’s not that bad, it’s only a little..” He shakes his head when you grasp his arm, trying to plead with him, but he only picks up the pace instead.

Soon enough, you’re back down the second street, his hand now resting on your lower back as he walks with purpose. His eyes are set forward as he scans the road ahead, narrowed as if he’d kill anything that’d come before the two of you.

“Simon.. Are you mad at me?” 

You look nervous to even ask, a hitch in your breath at each of his sharp and sudden movements and the worst is when you discard his nickname like that. He looks at you, the way you stare at him like you’re going to snap in two if he says anything wrong. Don't you see how much you worry him?

“No.. No, I'm not. Just get into the car, okay? We don't need some fancy dinner when you’re not feelin’ right.”

——

The car is cold, just like this night is, even if it’s been plenty sunny all week. It’s seven thirty now, stopped outside a small Tesco express whilst you wait for Simon to finish up inside. For once, you’re terribly regretting all of this. You’ve never been in a relationship, hell you don't even know what you’re supposed to do in one let alone all of this. If you hadn't messed up the day you avoided him and made him give you reassurance, you’ve definitely done it now. He’s never usually this quiet, and there’s no other explanation than him growing fed up with your antics. After all, who the hell agrees to go out to dinner just to not be able to because of some stupid, stupid cramps?

This was all too much but damnit you were too far away from home now to just run and hide like you always did— like a damn coward does. With thoughts growing more and more self-deprecating, your eyes become wetter by the second until you hear the click of the car door, and you almost immediately sit up straight, sniffling down any prior feelings. Simon opens the driver door, sitting inside before he wordlessly drapes his jacket over you and passes you one of those instant hot chocolates from the machines. He has a little plastic bag with him, one that he doesn't show you the contents of and only places in the backseat. “You were shiverin’.” He shrugs, looking at your confused face before starting up the car again and reversing out of the car park, back towards your home again.

——

“I’ll be back.”

He left you in your apartment whilst he went back to the car, leaving you anxious as you slowly made your way into your bedroom. This place was a mess, and if he was going to spend the evening here—if he even wanted to— this was not going to happen in the slightest. So, even whilst your eyes brim with tears and your lip wobbles, you place away the clothes left out when you were getting ready earlier, along with the random accessories strewn around. As you put away each item, your sniffles only grow even more, almost convinced Simon thinks of you as some weak naive girl; at this point, you were stupid to think you could make this work.

“What are you doing?” He stands in the doorway, blinking as you make your bed, pulling the duvet to each corner and straightening out the creases. “My apartment is messy..” You mumble out, but he only shakes his head again. “No.. No, stop. You’re not well, just… change into your pajamas or something comfy.” Then he’s gone, into the living room to deal with the rustle of something. Meanwhile, you try your best to not sob whilst you put on your warmest jumper and comfiest pajama bottoms, terrified of the ending of this. 

———

Swallowing sharply, you walk towards the couch, noticing him hunched over his phone, looking intently through the UberEats app. He’s done practically everything for you: from driving you back and forth, treating you to a meal and now even buying you something else you can eat just because you're an idiot who can't just push through something as stupid as cramps. Never has he made you lift a finger when he’s perfectly able to do something for you. What do you even do? You make lunch for him every so often, yeah, you had given him some things to help deal with his insomnia that one time, and you always give him something good to eat when he comes down. But is that all? Compared to the things he’s done for you, even when he waves it off as nothing, was far more strenuous than the stupid chicken buns you perfected just for his sake.

Did you even really deserve him? 

The thoughts choke your throat up, making you hesitate right outside your bedroom door. Should you beg for his forgiveness, for being such a bad girlfriend to him? That’d just pressure him to say it’s alright, give you sweet reassurance again— guilt-tripping him. What if this was all a big guilt trip? You had proven you were nothing compared to him, and so he felt forced to comply and help you. That only makes your breaths grow uneven, the seed of doubt growing in your mind as you sniffle to stop your nose from running. 

Stop seeking attention.

Trying to swallow down the guilt that clogs your oesophagus is near impossible, and you’re not even sure if you can face him knowing the person you actually are. So, your hand settles on the handle of your bedroom door, hurriedly deciding on hiding away before you cause him anymore trouble. 

“Cute pajamas.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he walks up behind you and looks at the little bunnies embroidered onto your t-shirt and trousers; he’s feeling a lot more relaxed knowing you’re safe at home now. “C’mon, sit on the couch. I was thinking we could order chinese, been a minute since I’ve had that.” He mutters, gently taking your arm in his hand and leading you over to the couch. You follow, teeth clenched together like you’re frozen in place, whilst he nudges you to take a seat. Though you don't ever reply, making him turn away from the snacks he’s set up on the coffee table, looking back at you properly.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, staining your skin as you meet his worried gaze, only feeling all the worse each second he looks your way. “Si- I— I’m sorry!” You blurt out, unable to get anything else out as you begin to messily sob into your hands, leaving a salty taste on your tongue similar to the pit of guilt swirling in your stomach.  He stands there dumbfounded, unsure how to react, since he’s never had to deal with someone seeking comfort from him before. Sure, he’s given you reassurance, but this was different— you wanted him to make you okay again, or at the very least calm you down.

“What is there to be sorry for?” He blurts out, standing awkwardly before you with his hands hanging useless at his sides. Should he reach out? He wants to, but he’s not sure if that’s the right move. Simon always thought he was confident in what he knew, and he always has been with each cock of his gun and swing of his knives. Of course, he knew a relationship was new territory, but he hadn't thought it’d move this fast.

“I ruined the whole evening! You always do everything for me and all I do is give you some stupid tea at the end of the day. An-and you introduced me to all your friends and I can't even show you off to mine because I barely have any that aren't just my parents' friends.” You cry out, rambling so fast your lungs can barely keep up, forcing you to take in long breaths to compensate for it. 

“I’ve done nothing for you! And I can't even walk down two roads to go to dinner with you, which is something you actually want for once because of my stupid period!”  He watches, silent, as you choke on your last words, sobbing again into your hands and very clearly overwhelmed. 

Though, that just explains absolutely everything to him. He had a small inkling, but he didn’t want to be that guy who only assumed because you were a little more ticked off than usual. The couch sinks beside you as he sits down, making you look up at him with teary eyes. “I could argue every single one of those points wrong, but I don't see the need to” He states simply, making you look up at him with teary eyes, curling a protective arm around you and pushing your head to lean against his side. 

The hand around your shoulder reaches up to dry the tears spilling down your cheeks. “No offense, but you’re gonna have to come up with a better argument than that for me to leave you, sweetheart.” 

 “And.. you warned me two weeks ago to not believe anything you say if you start bawling whilst on your period.” Now that elicits the smallest huff of laughter through your tears, instantly remembering that yes, you did in fact say that.

It had been late, and you were messing around with him, but he could tell you were slightly serious when you texted him that evening. You had warned him that you tended to get a little over your own head sometimes, and he told you the same—take his messages past one am with a pinch of salt. After all, it’s been more than once that he’s hurriedly woken up Soap for an emergency that had sprouted from his darkest dreams, and the Scot had to sit down with him and explain nothing was happening at all.  So, he definitely understood that the brain was a strange thing, one that did things you didn't always mean. Though, if you hadn't warned him he’d most definitely spend tonight and the next month reminding you everyday that you do so much for him. For now though, his concern was making you feel okay again, and if you still felt those doubts in the next few days when you were feeling better, he’d be happy to debate how you’ve been nothing but perfect for him.

Although, even after all of that you still look hesitant, like something is seriously lingering in your head. “Tell me what’s wrong–I’m here to listen.” It’s true, he promised you he would, and he was here right now, patiently waiting.

“W-why did you suddenly send me back to the car? And you just– you barely let me get a word in–” That’s what had spiralled the self-depreciation out of control, that and overthinking that is. Though, it is pretty hard to think straight when your stomach feels all queasy and sharp pains keep attacking your abdomen. He realises now the mistake he had made, his breath stuck in his throat as he listens to your words. “I thought you were angry with me..” You eventually mumble out, still sniffling whilst the tears escape your eyes.

 How stupid had he been? 

“I..I’m sorry, love.” His hand tightens around your back, fingers gently pressing into your skin. Of course, you had over thought it, probably analysed each of his little actions too. He had been the one to encourage you to communicate with him, and he didn’t even take his own damn advice. “I’m a bloody idiot.”  Guilty, he lets out a long sigh, his hand retracting from behind you. Now it just gently rests on your hand, almost as if asking for permission again.

You watch as he rests his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he turns his head to look at you, your watery eyes and tearful expression. It breaks him all over again. “Honestly.. All I was worried about was getting you home so you could be comfortable again. I rarely communicate on the field regarding the reasons for my actions– I just expect them to follow.” It was true, he had mindlessly assumed you’d just understand and follow, like one of his damn soldiers. You weren’t one of them, and you should never be demanded to just ‘understand’ with such poor explanation on his part. 

“That wasn't right of me to expect that of you. It was never my intention to scare you like that, love. I’m sorry.”

His words are slow, and they don't blame you in the slightest which feels like a massive step away from how everyone has usually treated you. In fact, the apology is so raw, his hand still tentatively resting on yours as he looks so distraught at the realisation. After a second or two, the weight beneath your eyes finally rests, sinking as you droop your head. “I.. Thank you. I just– I knew I was getting over myself but I didn't know what to think of your actions. That.. makes a lot of sense, and I don't blame you– I was just worried I guess...”

Even though you’ve accepted his apology, you still look pretty pent-up, fingers slowly rubbing the hem of your shirt. “C’mere, love. Just ‘cause I explained, it doesn't take the hurt away. You have the right to feel upset.” He watches your hand grasp his, locking your fingers together as your thumb quietly traces the cracks in his skin and the folds in his joints.

“Listen to your body, not me.”

So you do, you sniffle again until you’re silently sobbing into the shirt your hands are tightly grasping the back of. When he follows your lead, tucking you close to him again, you bring your knees up onto the couch to shelter yourself beneath his bicep, warmth radiating off of him. You only begin settling down to sniffles once the pit in your gut fades, and you’re beginning to feel lighter. His hand rubs your back slowly, in comforting circles, whilst he whispers soft words in his ears. He’s no pro, but he does know that you deserve all of this and more. 

You're quiet now apart from the occasional inhale from your snotty nose and coughs to clear your choked throat.  “Feeling better?” Silently, you press your knees to your chest as you sit up properly though still staying close to his comfort and security he provides.

 “Yeah, a lot better.” Your voice is all clogged up, a little raspy, but you’re okay and that’s all that matters.

——

The food delivery driver is only a few minutes away now, but you’re feeling icky as it is so you excuse yourself after the long comforting silence to head into the bathroom. There’s tear streaks all down your face, cheeks puffy and eyelashes damp, yet there’s no weight on your chest, and you no longer feel the burden of guilt swarming you. 

After splashing your face with cold water, you already look a little more put together, but no less pitiful. Though..it’s not like he’ll care anyway, it’s Simon— he proves your anxieties wrong practically every day. Your lips pull up into a small smile, looking back at yourself in the mirror before you turn, opening the door to return to your man.

“Si?” You look around just to hear him hum. “Right here, love.”

He peeks round the wall of the kitchen, gesturing you to come over to where he’s taking out all the boxes. “Woah— how much did you buy?” He doesn't seem as fazed as you are, glancing down at the four containers of each different dish he bought. “Hm? This is a normal amount.” 

Normal?? You were only two people, and he had bought enough to feed your whole family and the stray foxes that lingered around. 

“Here, you can eat these two.” Your jaw drops the moment he slides two, massive, containers before you. “What?!”

———-

You’re still giggling like an idiot when you sit down on the couch again, your plate piping hot and his container steaming. “Alrigh’ stop laughing at me.” He tries his best to be stern, but he can't help it when your eyes are all lit up like that, repetitively fanning yourself with your hand because you’ve laughed so much your cheeks are burning. 

“I can't— it’s just so silly–”

He places the container onto his lap so he can reach over to squash your cheeks inwards to shut you up at long last. “Yeah yeah, I know I'm an idiot. I’m just used to having Soap and Gaz who stuff down two containers each and then a third between them.” He huffs out, slightly embarrassed that he had forgotten you physically couldn't eat that much if you even tried. 

You’ve stopped giggling enough to take a bite of your food when he replaces the fork in your hand with the packet of ibuprofen, making you look at him in confusion. “What?”

“Take them, you’re obviously in pain.”

That makes you raise a brow at him, then down at the tablets and then back over at him again. “Do you think I can't handle it? I’ve had periods for like years, Si— I can handle any of this.” You huff confidently, crossing your arms over your chest as he gives you an just as hardened stare. “I never said you couldn't handle the pain, it’s called making it easier for yourself—“

“Yeah but I wanna see how long I can last without it.”

“You what?” This time he does actually look at you like you’re crazy. But then again, you are right, your body not his. “Just.. just eat the food please.”

———

It’s safe to say that he made sure you took the painkillers the second he saw you clutch the pillow beside you again, doing his best to not roll his eyes when you were still adamant on not taking it. You end up feeling a lot better when it finally kicks in, just leaving you content with your head resting on his broad shoulder. 

He leaves to pack the food away before returning with one of your plushies, more specifically the giant penguin that he had won for you. How could you ever forget that day? “Smells like you.” He chuckles, burying his face into the fur before laying it down beside you who instantly clutches it tight. “I’ve slept with Pingu every day.” You hum, resting your chin above its head and loving how perfectly it fits in your arms. It truly is your favourite thing in the world– apart from Simon that is.

“Only you would name it after that crappy cartoon.” Your jaw drops, offended as he plops himself down on the couch beside you, stretching his legs out as he turns the tv on. “Pingu was legendary, thank you.”

“Uh huh, the penguin who’d make a snoot snoot noise at anything and was as stubborn as you when I denied a pastry.”

“I’m not stubborn– it’s called caring for you.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

—-------------------------

One of those crappy game shows are on again, they’re ones you’d usually switch off, but Simon always gets way too invested in them.  “That was definitely the wrong answer” He scowls at the contestant, before switching to a grin when his own guess was right. 

Every time he picks correctly, you get a firm rub up and down your side, and when he gets proven wrong.. you get a squeeze that makes you squeal. His eyes never leave your form when you join in too, chiming in now and then with your prediction, and he kisses your head when you get it right. Though he doesn't fail to notice how you squirm occasionally, shifting uncomfortably to find the right position and failing.

The show has ended and so, his focus has snapped back to you all over again. Out of nowhere he stands, heading into the kitchen and rummaging through the bags he must’ve brought inside when he went back to the car. Then he disappears into your bedroom, before returning to grab your plate and walking back over to place it in the dishwasher. 

“Hm?” You perk up, peeking over the armrest as he continues to move around the room before stopping infront of you. 

“C’mon.” Before you can question what he’s doing, one arm is tucked beneath your legs and the other behind your back, holding you upright. “Woah—hey!” He takes the moment to press a kiss to your lips, making you momentarily stop squirming before he carries you into your bedroom and places you beneath the covers with ease. On the bedside table there’s a steaming cup of tea, some menstrual products and your water bottle filled up to the top beside his own, perfect for when you get thirsty at night. Oh, and obviously some more snacks and the chocolates you were munching seconds ago.

You blink in surprise whilst he tucks a hot water bottle beside you, along with Pingu,  before pulling the covers up to your neck. He grabs the remote, turning on the tv, but this time moves to Netflix, flicking through the series till he settles on the one you’ve been talking about with him. “You call me if you need anything, yeah?”  He teases, fluffing the pillows behind your head. 

“What? Where are you going?”

“Clean up a little, get my bed situated on the couch. I’ll come say goodnight.”

“You—what? No way.” You grab his hand and pull him towards the bed, putting so much force only for him to barely move an inch. Huffing in exasperation, you grab his other hand and tug him. “No way I’ll sleep alone when you’re right here.”

You wanted him here? With you? When you’re like this? Sure, you’re dating and all, but he didn't expect you to want him to stay. He had accidentally made you cry multiple times today and probably pushed your stress levels to the max by simply not explaining something like an idiot. Plus, he always likes to be left alone when he is feeling particularly vulnerable— was this not the same?

“Please?” You plead, and he immediately relents, slowly nodding before gently manoeuvring you to lean back properly.

“Fine, fine, only if you finish your tea. I don't want to hear of a sore throat tomorrow.”

———

It’s late, and you’ve finished your tea now, getting ready for bed. He stands in the bathroom, like he had on your first date, staring into the mirror. If he slept beside you, he could keep the mask on, just half hitched up his face. If he really wanted to, that is.

But was it right? He’d be laying right beside you, so close and the most intimate he’s been with anyone for years, only to keep his mask on. It wasn’t insecurity; it never had been, either. But it was all so strange, he didn't know what to do and, to be honest, he was slightly nervous.

“Si? You almost done? I gotta pee..” You mumble from the doorway, the door swinging open as you lean on it, making you stumble forward. Thankfully, you catch yourself, immediately noticing how he stands before the mirror, dressed in the spare clothes you insisted he keep in the closet. But what you’re more focused on is his hand that lingers near his mask, curling up the edges. Though when he hears you he immediately drops it, nodding without even looking back at you.

You step forward, like a mouse with how silent your feet are. “You don't have to if you don't want to. Whatever is more comfortable for you.” You whisper, gently curling your arms around him, with your head thumping gently against his back. It feels nice, hugging him like this— like you’ve wanted to since the day you met him. 

“Thanks for always looking out for me, Simon. Even when I'm a little bit teary and loopy.”

That gets a small huff out of him, but he continues to stare at the mirror, now focusing on your hands that settle on his side before lightly grazing your nails against him. “If you’re attempting to tickle me, it’s not working.”

“I was not—Okay, I was. How are you not ticklish at all?!” You huff, and he turns around, pinching your cheeks before shaking his head at you. “Go on, do your business. I’ll go make sure the bed’s warm for you.”

———————

Clicking the bathroom door shut, you walk back over to your bedroom, eyes all drowsy. It’s almost ten now, and even if that’s not your usual bedtime, you’re about to make it from how shattered your brain is. You were a tiny bit embarrassed, to say the least. After all, you had burst into tears because he simply did the right thing—to take you home. But then again, it’s Simon and, even if you actually got angry at him for cancelling the plans, he’d have let you punch his chest until you’re satisfied. On the comfort of your couch of course, not outside where the cold would get to you.

Your slippers patter quietly as you walk inside, noticing the main light has been turned off. That’s perfect because your eyes are straining with every second you’re still awake. A yawn threatens to come forward, but you immediately brush it off when you see him. He’s sitting on one side of the bed, wearing only a black t-shirt and sweatpants, on his phone that he usually never touches except for emergencies, of course.

A smile immediately breaks out on your face, failing to be contained as you just stare for a moment, stepping forward until he glances up at you properly, a hint of hesitance in his eyes. “Ready to sleep?” He tries his best to stay as casual as before, you can tell that, but you’ve lost all sense of words so you just quickly nod along, still locked onto him like he’s a painting anyone with a sane mind would fawn over.

“I love you.” You blurt out, crawling atop the bed and making his head turn back to you, surprise written over it. It makes you want to giggle, so very hard, knowing you can now see every little etch that formed his face, the curves, the sharp edges, even properly see his brows now. You love even more that you can make his face change, surprise him, excite him, make him smile. 

“What’s all this about?” Of course, he ignores the obvious, suddenly looking downwards as he opens the covers up and drapes them over you. He still sits atop, almost hesitant to get under before you catch his hand. “Nothin’, just admiring.” You hum, intertwining your hands with his that he rarely leaves bare, apart from the softer moments like these. They’re calloused, and strong, yet so, so, soft whenever they come to handle you. 

After a bit of nudging, he finally gets under the covers, making you sigh with content as you shuffle your way over to him. “You don't mind if I cuddle you, right?” The excitement is written all over your face, clearly wanting to try this with someone for years now, and who would he be to deny? “Jus’ tell me what you want me to do.”

He was expecting you to want him to hug you from behind, or maybe you’d sleep across his chest, but you’re both facing each other in your little bed, and you’ve got your arms tight around his torso and your nose pushed into his neck. He feels your gentle pecks against the scar too close to his throat, down to his collar where many knives have grazed and even on the curve of his shoulder where a bullet had once been lodged. You squeeze him tighter with each one, his own hands tightening on your back.  “Thought I fed you enough—with all of that food.” He  grunts, quieter than usual and you didn't miss his breath hitching when you kissed him again, your nose rubbing against him.

“I’m always hungry.” You hum, grinning, before you pull your head back, staring at him head on. You’ve always loved his eyes, probably because it’s the only thing he would allow you, but this is more than that, looking at him like this. Brown, rich, and full of secrets, enough to make you smile all silly again. You lean forward, kissing his nose full force like he always does to catch you off guard. It cracks a smile on his lips, and he has to avert his gaze for a moment before he turns into some lovesick fool. 

“I think you’re supposed to be sleeping, miss—”

Before he can finish, you’ve caught him in a kiss, your hands curving up his jaw and thumbs cold against his face. It’s a sensation he hasn’t felt in years, skin against skin, and it feels exhilarating. When you break for some much-needed air, you push your palms into his cheeks, squashing his face before giggling at how his lips have been forcefully pursed. 

Rolling his eyes, he scoops you up effortlessly and pushes you back against the mattress, pinning your hands against the pillows. “You are so–”  He huffs, but it breaks once he sees your wide-eyed expression, and he has to drop his head to contain himself, his body wracking with each shake of laughter. You’re soon flattened by his heavy build, squirming beneath him until he relents and rolls onto his back to let you settle properly. Though, he does grab your hands, restraining them for a moment longer. 

“You gonna behave and sleep now?” He raises a brow at you, his face full of so much emotion that it momentarily stuns you. 

“..Only if you sleep over tomorrow as well.”

“If I get you a pretty ring, we can do that every day.” Finally, he sets your hands free, letting you settle them over his body properly before you yawn drowsily. 

“Don’t need a ring to convince me.” Your face is squished comfortably against his heart, which may as well have legal rights to you at this point. His eyes soften as he watches your eyes droop, his hand sinking beneath your shirt to rub at your lower back, knowing you’re likely still all achy. 

“I love you too.” He returns the sentiment, one hand placed atop your head like it wasn’t a phrase but a vow– a promise. Never in his life did he think he’d ever be in the place he is in right now, and despite Soap’s constant words of wisdom that life is full of surprises, this was one of the things he deemed impossible. Yet here you were, the only person who could make him smile like his heart was light again, and the only one who he’d go to the end of the earth and back for. You’re here, the prettiest girl in the damn world, and you’re next to him. 

Though, he’s even more grateful for who you make him as a person. Just today, you’ve changed him for the better, and since you’ve met him he’s learnt so much in the little things that he probably couldn't even count them on one hand. You didn't fix him, no, you healed him, bettered him as a person until he was here, feeling worthy of someone’s love. He’d never be perfect, nowhere close but he’d sure as hell get close with you around.

“I love you.” An whispered oath, and he kisses your head as the day finally catches up to you.

You’re the only one who could ever make him say those three words because—even if the nightmares ate at his mind, the battlefield consumed his limbs or fate took its revenge on him— he loved you and that’s enough to leave him with peace for the rest of his life.

--------------------

buy me a coffee!

bonus drabble

a/n: i cant believe one small drabble turned into this and after five months, we finally finished it!!!! this is the first cod series i've made and i've loved every single chapter I've put out. It makes me so upset to see it go, if im being honest, but i know it's for the best. If anyone does have any ideas for reader and Simon please leave them in my askbox! I will do my best to at least try to write it up as a bonus chapter but for now, this is officially the end. Thank you for all of your support on this series, you have all been so so sweet and i hope you all experience a love as sugary as this one <3

taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow @enfppuff @oydan @keytofu @vogueprincess @roastyyytoastyyy @pythonmoth

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 2 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: As soon as you decide that Jake is the one you want for your first time, he's very clear that you'll be playing by his rules. You're ready to get this over with and get on with your life, but he's determined to make you admit that you're allowed to feel good. And maybe you want to enjoy this with him.

Warnings: adult language, mentions of sex and virginity, sexual touching, 18+

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

"Jake," you whispered as his soft hair glided through your fingers. You liked his name. He was handsome. He was older. His lips tasted delicious. He had green eyes.

Why had you been so focused on Rooster? Oh, right. Because your roommate, Kylie, said he was good after she slept with him. She told you all about the Navy bar and the different guys with call signs, and you made it a point to remember that Rooster was the one who she said was the gentlest. 

You froze. Jake had his hands around your waist, his hips pressing his semi hard length against you. Those pretty green eyes were locked onto yours, and you knew it would be a long shot to get him to agree, even now. But something else was bothering you about this whole scenario. You suddenly wondered if Kylie and Jake ever had sex.

For some reason, that idea alone was enough to piss you off. Going blindly after Rooster would have been no big deal, but Jake seemed to actually give a shit about you. He just took the time to make sure you were really twenty, and he kept questioning you as to why you were here in the first place. In this bar where you apparently stuck out like a sore thumb.

But you wanted Jake specifically for your first time, whether he had already fucked Kylie or not. You leaned in and kissed him again, and he seemed more than willing now. You hoped your little skirt and tight shirt weren't going to fail you after you made it this far. He just needed to take care of this one, basic thing for you, and you'd be on your way. Then you could go out with Cooper who you were actually so ready to date, and you wouldn't completely embarrass yourself with him.

You let yourself touch Jake's hair again as you asked, "What's your call sign?"

His hand felt huge against your butt, and you went willingly when he pulled you even closer. "Hangman," he said in that cute Texan drawl. That didn't sound familiar at all, and Kylie was pretty proud of all the call signs she'd managed to collect. Maybe she hadn't gotten to him yet. Or maybe she wasn't his type. That thought alone made you smile even more as he continued to touch you.

"Okay, Hangman," you whispered against his mouth in the middle of this crowded bar. "I'm ready for you to take me to your place."

He kissed you gently and shook his head. "Let's go out to my truck, and I'll drive you back to your apartment or dorm."

God, he was such a good kisser, but he was really grating on your nerves at this point. You were a little nervous that he would keep saying no and then ruin your chances with Rooster or one of the other guys in attendance tonight, even though they would be clear backup options now. You whined in annoyance. "Come on, Jake."

"No. I'm not taking you home with me," he replied firmly. 

You stomped your foot; you really wanted to lose your damn virginity, and you couldn't give it away. "You don't even have to take me back to your place. We can fuck in the parking lot."

"Jesus Christ, Darlin'. That's not happening either," he said, looking scandalized. "Definitely not for your first time. And a leather mini skirt is an impractical outfit to get fucked in anyway."

You tipped your head back and groaned. "Well how was I supposed to know that?" Then you looked at his handsome face, pretty much ready to call it a night and try again tomorrow at a different bar. "I'm doing everything wrong."

He had the nerve to laugh at you again. "No. You're really not. The skirt is just going to make guys want to work harder for it. And honestly, somehow the sneakers are doing something for me?"

A small glimmer of hope flashed inside you as you ran your fingers along his stubbled cheek. "Yeah?"

"God. Damn. It." He was practically growling now as he started to haul you toward the exit. "If we're doing this, then we're doing it right."

"Okay!" you replied immediately, not really sure what you were agreeing to as he led you outside to the dark deck, letting the door close behind the two of you. The loud interior of the bar was a thing of the past now as he took your chin between his thumb and fingers and kissed you a little rough with the ocean as the new soundtrack. 

You almost dropped your purse as you tried to wrap your arms around his neck, already wanting more of him. "If you really want to do this," he said between kisses, "then you're playing by my rules." You were practically whimpering as his lips found the side of your neck, because why did his words sound so sexy?

"Absolutely," you whispered. "Jake's rules."

He half carried you out to the dimly lit parking lot as he muttered, "This is a terrible idea." He squinted at your face and added, "You seem like the type who never learns her lesson."

"I resent that," you said, running your lips along his ear even as your feet left the ground. "I have a 4.0 GPA. I always learn my lessons."

He grunted as he helped you into what you assumed was his truck before standing outside the door with his hands on his hips. "Like I said, you're a real smartass. Now listen up. I'm going to be as gentlemanly as I possibly can during this whole thing."

"Whole thing?" you asked, wondering what he could possibly mean. He just needed to get completely hard, shove his cock in you for a little while, and then call it a night.

"Yeah," he grunted, his green eyes a little wild in the glow from the truck's dome lights. "I'm going to make sure you come. I'm going to be as sweet as I can be. But you need to be clear if you're not having a good time, or if you want me to stop. If you can't abide by those basic ground rules, we're absolutely done here."

Oh. He was really taking this seriously. You chewed on your lip, and his face became more apprehensive. But you weren't debating with yourself whether or not his ground rules would work for you. You were actually trying to figure out why he was already being better than anything you anticipated tonight. Anticipated ever.

"Oh, my god," you gasped. "Are you married?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he shouted, looking angry now. "Of course I'm not married!"

You reached out to him and grabbed his hand. "Sorry! It's just that you're sweet, and you seem to be taking this really seriously! I was just checking!"

Jake scowled, and his tone was one akin to hurt. "I'm not letting you make yourself believe that all you deserve for your first time is a careless fuck in a bar bathroom or a parking lot, and I'm certainly not letting one of those drunk assholes maul you apart!"

The more you thought about it, you really didn't want to be manhandled or have to pull your skirt up in a bathroom stall to make the best of things tonight. You squeezed his hand which you were still holding as you softly said, "Thank you."

He ran his free fingers through his soft hair and muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, don't thank me yet." Then he kissed your lips and said, "Buckle your seatbelt," before he let go of your hand and closed the door. 

-------------------------

You were pretty quiet on the drive back to Jake's place, but you didn't seem as nervous now. If anything, he thought his nerves were ramping up while yours were calming down. He couldn't remember how many condoms he had left in his bedside drawer, and when he tried to estimate how many he might use tonight, he almost missed his turn. Was he really going to do this?

"You live by the beach," you remarked, playing with the hem of your tiny skirt while you looked out the window.

"I do," he replied, mentally cancelling his morning run if you were going to stay over. The implications of letting you spend the night were creeping up on him, but kicking you out was absolutely not going to be an option. You likely had the entirety of the rest of your life to be disappointed by men, but he wasn't going to set that precedent. 

"How old did you say you were?"

Jake felt a little dirty now when he said, "I didn't. But I'm thirty." He tapped the brakes when he was about a block from his house. His truck already smelled sweet like your perfume or shampoo, and he glanced at you when he turned onto his street. "Let me take you back to your place."

You laughed softly as you leaned a little closer to him. "Negative, Hangman. I have a twin bed and a nosy roommate. I think we're better off doing this at yours."

"Come on, Darlin'. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He coasted up to the stop sign on the quiet side street; he could see his little, white cottage on the next block, but he turned to look at your face in profile as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were looking straight ahead, chin proudly held high as you said, "If you really don't want to have sex with me, then turn right and head back toward Pomona Avenue."

It wasn't that he didn't want to. You were all pouty lips and feminine curves and perky tits, and yeah... he did want to fuck you. And he wanted to make it so good, you'd ask for more. He wanted to take his time and pull that first orgasm from you while he gave it to you exactly how you needed it. When he didn't turn his truck back toward Pomona, you looked at him and whispered, "It's okay if you're not into it, Jake. You can take me home. You don't have to worry about me."

He made a noise at the back of his throat and licked his lips. "That's not it." He wanted to say more, but for now, he answered your concerns by moving his foot to the accelerator and driving straight through the intersection. You visibly relaxed in the seat next to him, and a few seconds later, he was pulling his truck up to his house. You were looking out the window toward his cottage, and when you reached for the door handle, he let his hand rest on your bare knee. You turned his way immediately, and he said, "You never agreed to play by my rules."

"I agree."

He shook his head. "Then tell me what my ground rules were."

You bit your bottom lip, and he could feel you squeeze your legs together as you whispered, "You said you'd make sure I come. And that you would be sweet. And that if I tell you I'm not having a good time, you'll stop." Jake let his hand slide a few inches higher, and you responded by easing your legs apart and telling him, "I agree with the ground rules."

Jake nodded once and said, "Looks like I'm stuck with you now."

You kissed him. Somehow you caught him off guard every time you did it. You were tentative and inquisitive, and when you moved closer, his hand eased up your thigh. "You're stuck with me," you murmured between kisses. "For probably at least a half an hour." Jake started laughing, and you pulled away slightly. "What's funny?"

"Darlin', you're playing by my rules. You want me to teach you about sex? Half an hour isn't even going to be enough to get you warmed up."

You looked surprised as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. "Teach me about sex? I thought you were just going to fuck me and call it a night."

Jake moaned. "Definitely not. Now let's get started."

--------------------------

You found yourself in Jake's living room, eyes darting around, trying to figure out what to focus on first. He was an actual adult with award commendations from the Navy and a massive TV. You felt small in his space, and some of your bravado melted away as he chuckled and said, "I'd offer you a drink, but, you know."

You tapped the toe of your sneaker against the hardwood floor and said, "According to my ID, I'm the same age as you. I like white wine, thanks."

He was trying not to laugh as he walked into his kitchen, and you followed along behind him, watching as he reached for a wine glass and filled it with ice water. "Enjoy your chardonnay, Darlin'," he drawled, and now you were also trying not to laugh.

"Thanks," you whispered before taking a sip. You tried to set your purse on the counter, but the clasp caught the edge, and both of your IDs came sliding out along with a strip of three condoms. When Jake met your eyes you said, "I made sure I was prepared before I left my place. I'm young, not stupid."

"But the Hard Deck?" he asked, closing the distance between your bodies. "Not your smartest move, parading around in there with a fake and some condoms. The guys that hang out there wouldn't know their ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to making sure a woman enjoys herself."

"You hang out there," you told him with a little eye roll, and his fingers came up under your chin. He tilted your face up until you were staring into his pretty green eyes, and your core clenched with need.

"I don't make promises I can't keep," he told you, and you absolutely believed him. "Now, you said you're a virgin, but why don't you go ahead and tell me how experienced you are."

You swallowed hard, chin still held in place by those rough fingers. "Is that really necessary? I'm ready to go, Jake." You set your glass of water on the counter next to the condoms and reached out to touch his solid abs through his shirt.

"There's a little more to it than that," he told you, stroking your jaw with his thumb. "Let's talk and get to know each other a bit."

The last thing you wanted him to know about was your complete lack of experience with guys. "We don't have to do that." 

"Yeah, well I want to," he told you, finally releasing your chin.

"You're very old fashioned," you said with a smirk, and your hands settled on his belt.

"I'm a lot older than you, smartass. Humor me." Instead of responding with anything about yourself, you held eye contact with him while you yanked the end of his belt free from the belt loops and started to unbuckle it. A smile danced along his lips, and he said, "Fine. I'll start. I'm a Lieutenant in the Navy. I grew up in Texas, but I've lived all over the country. My favorite food is chili. I love running on the beach in the morning before it gets too hot out. I have four sisters. And I'm a Scorpio."

You had the button of his jeans undone, and you were easing his zipper down as you said, "You do seem like a Scorpio, Lieutenant Jake." His green eyes were still on yours as you officially went further than you ever had with a guy by letting your fingers run along his impressive length through his underwear. He licked his lips as you reached the tip and then dipped your hand inside his snug boxer briefs. He was warm and velvety soft while also getting harder by the second, and you gasped at the look in his eyes. "Does this feel good?" you asked softly as his pupils widened.

He nodded once, and his voice sounded raspier as he told you, "Yes."

"Good," you mused out loud, unable to contain your smirk as Jake grunted softly. "If you like it, then the guy from my physics class who I want to go out with will probably like it, too."

Suddenly, Jake's hand was on your wrist in an iron-tight grasp, preventing you from stroking him. "What?" you gasped, his hand tightening incrementally as something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

"Lesson number one. When you're with a guy, and you have your hand wrapped around his cock, you shouldn't be talking about a different guy."

You pouted up at him and said, "I already told you earlier that part of the reason I wanted to lose my virginity was so it would feel good when I get with Cooper."

"And I'm telling you right now that you're done talking about him," he grunted. "Got it?"

A chill of delight ran up your spine as you whispered, "Yes. Understood."

His grasp on your wrist released immediately, and he leaned in, kissing you softly one time. "That's just a surefire way to get a guy jealous," he informed you, and another little chill ran through your body as you considered that maybe you just made him a little jealous. 

When you ran your hand along his length again, his lips were back on yours immediately, and he moved you so your leather covered butt was pressed against the edge of his countertop. Then he took your hips in both of his big hands, and you whimpered into his mouth. He teased you, pulling away slightly just so you'd chase him for more. He was throbbing against your palm as your other hand found his hair once again. 

He was sexy. Even the rough stubble on his face felt delicious as it rubbed your chin and cheeks. Then, just as his lips started to migrate along your jaw, he carefully reached for your wrist again, withdrawing your hand from his jeans. "Yes, it feels good, but this isn't about me, Darlin'."

When his lips skimmed down your neck before settling on your pulse point, you whimpered his name. Then he sucked gently on you there while he toyed with the zipper at the side of your mini skirt. He was big and strong, and he smelled good, and as he worked your zipper down, inch by painstaking inch, you shifted so you were rubbing against him.

As soon as his fingers dipped inside the elastic of your underwear, it felt like you were clenching around nothing. Usually you had to use your fingers for a while to get that kind of result, but he hadn't even touched you there yet. Then you realized you were wet. Really wet from his lips and his touch. Your thong felt damp against your skin as your skirt started to slide down your hips, and your voice was a little too loud as you gasped and said, "Okay, I'm ready. I'm definitely ready. Let's do it. Where's your bedroom?"

Jake's lips released your neck. He brought his mouth up to your ear and told you, "Absolutely not. Not yet."

Your skirt slipped a few more inches as Jake ran his nose along the shell of your ear. "God. Do you need me to ask nicely or something? Please?"

"You're playing by my rules. Did you forget? We're not rushing through this." Your skirt dropped to the floor at your feet as Jake pulled away and looked at your face. "Unless you're not having a good time, Darlin'. Say the words, and I'll stop."

You had no control of your body as your head tipped back, a low moan escaping as you said, "I don't want you to stop." You panted as you rubbed your wet panties against the open fly of his jeans. "It feels so good. But I want more."

Jake's hand found the back of your head, tilting it forward until you were looking at him again. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asked as one of his calloused fingers played with the lace trim along the top of your underwear.

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered with a moan, nodding your head as he smirked at you. 

"Really, pretty girl? You sure that's it? Because it sounds more like you want me to make you feel good." His fingers stroked up to your belly button and back down again as you bucked against him. "I think you know by this point in our conversation that you're allowed to enjoy this. And I can tell that's what you really want." 

"What could possibly feel better than getting fucked?" you asked in desperation. "I want you to fuck me!"

"No, you don't," he whispered, voice harsh and needy. He kissed you hard on the mouth two times before adding, "You want me to make you feel better than you've ever felt before. You want me to touch you with more skill than you can touch yourself. And none of that has to do with me fucking you. Tell me I'm wrong."

You bit down on your lip as his hand reached around to your butt, and suddenly you knew for sure it wouldn't have been like this with Rooster or any of the other guys at the bar. They would have fucked you and unloaded into one of the three condoms by now. Maybe you wouldn't have even gotten wet for them. You'd probably be back at your place in bed, planning on seeing Cooper on Monday morning with a new outlook on life. But it wouldn't have been like this.

Jake wanted more than that for your first time, and now you were starting to see that you could have more as his rough fingers kneaded into you. If you were already about to come just from rubbing yourself on him, then playing by his rules and letting him take his time was sounding better by the second.

You took a deep breath, let your lips brush against his and told him, "I want you to make me feel good."

"That's more like it, Darlin'," he crooned. "I'll take care of you."

----------------------------

Jake is about to show you that he's a man of his word. He keeps his promises, and he's already made some to you. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi, I was stalking you a little and discovered this https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/949418 fic where Stiles is accidentally seducing Derek acting like a ideal mate without even knowing and I was wondering if you had other fics like this one.

Even if you don't I want to thank you for your hard work! Ganbatte kudasai!

Hi @nenehyuuchiha! I think so.

You're Turning Heads When You Walk Through The Door by Sheynora

(1/5 I 7,612 I Explicit)

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence:

Kate knows the weak link in the Hale Pack.

It'll be easy; seduce Derek and use his love to destroy the pack. Only... this loud-mouthed, klutz named Stiles keeps getting in the way. Derek can't notice Kate if he's too busy noticing Stiles.

Damn Stiles for being so sexy

---------------------------------

Or the AU where the Hale Fire didn't happen, but Kate Argent plans to make it happen. Except Stiles and his accidental sexiness keep ruining Kate's plans to seduce Derek.

***

Cause I Built A Home (For You, For Me) by nymphe

(1/1 I 6,860 I Teen)

Erica is giggling somewhere in the background. “I think he’d like exactly what you’d like, mom.”

Or, a 5 Times fic wherein Stiles doesn’t realize he’s been accidentally co-parenting a gang of furry teenagers/displaying Perfect Mate Characteristics, + the 1 Time Derek enlightens him.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee

(3/3 I 12,781 I Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits.

Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side.

So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Try To See It My Way by Phantomlimb

(19/19 I 24,577 I Mature)

Derek has no fucking clue about what to do. He doesn't know how to woo someone. Let alone if that someone is Stiles

The Boy Is Mine, You Bonkers! by frownypup

(3/3 I 35,535 I Explicit)

It turns out that the words ‘a painfully smart and brave unclaimed human who is stupidly unutilized in Beacon Hill’s pack’ became the hottest gossip in werewolf underground. Yes, what the hell. Stiles’ existence has changed from a plankton to a rising sun.

Derek Hale has something he needs to say about it.

for a good time, call... by EvanesDust 

(10/10 I 46,841 I Explicit)

Stiles unlocks his phone to send out a quick text asking his father what he wants to eat, even though he’ll get salad regardless, and notices a strange number on his recent call log.

His face scrunches in confusion before realization dawns on him.

Oh shit.

Events from the night before peek through the hazy fog of his mind. Stiles thought, or he was hoping, that the phone call was a dream. But there it is, staring at him in the face—a one minute and 57-second call to an unfamiliar number.

Oh God.

Did he seriously call someone—possibly an alpha werewolf!—for phone sex?

...Or the one where Stiles drunk dials a very grumpy alpha werewolf and propositions him for phone sex. Hilarity, misunderstandings, and feelings ensue.

[dreaisgrayte]

Wilted Petals | Sanemi x fem!reader Hashira NSFW (18+), MDNI

Synopsis: Sanemi meets yn during the selection, taking a liking to her attitude and spirited way of talking to him. They grow closer due to their shared trauma and become lovers. On the night before their wedding Sanemi ventures out to find one of your favorite flowers. He never returns. That is, the Sanemi you once knew never returns. Warnings: MDNI, NSFW (18+), family death, demon killing, fainting, blood, gore, death, child death, injury, grief, heartbreak, pregnancy, alone, depression, oral (male!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), fingering, raw sex, creampie, breeding kink, obsessive kink, engagement, dirty talk (outside of the bedroom), angst...so much angst.... WC: 13.6k A/n: he calls her Petal 14 times. She was 14 when they first met... I'm not okay. This fucking fic ruined me. This is also mostly unedited...sorry

Sanemi would often tell you how you entirely envelop him. In your eyes, he was able to picture the future. In the timbre of your voice, he could recall the past. In your body, he was grounded in the present time. It was love. 

The world was falling apart around you both, but together you could rebuild anything. To think it all started with a flower. 

7 years ago…

The air was a different kind of weight in your nostrils. You could sense them, the demons. Some of the low-grade ones snarling with inhuman urges. You click your tongue, bored by the whole scheme of this showdown. What? Were you supposed to slay all these weak pieces of garbage while the rest of the Demon Slayer Corporation went after the ones that could form a coherent thought? All that consumed these losers was hunger. If you must partake, the sooner this is over the better. 

You wonder if there’s anyone else still alive, but before you can become lost in thought again a booming yell cuts through the trees. You tilt your head, knitting your brows together as the sound echoes through your ears. Hmm, what an interesting development. Your feet are bringing you toward the source of the sound before you know it. 

Brushing past some foliage you wait silently in the bush, observing the open area in front of you. There, looming and grotesque is a demon, gurbbling some nonsense about being in pain. Then, a sharp and shiny hoe comes crashing down on the skull – or whatever that thing had in its head because it definitely wasn’t a brain – of the demon. It yelps out in agony, slumping to the ground as ichor oozes from its many wounds. You watch as brisk movements suddenly have a chain wrapped around the mass of the demon. “You don’t need to be scared.” A voice calls from beyond the large body of the demon. “It’s dead.” The voice is lower this time, like the person holding that tone also held some deep regrets. 

Standing from the bush you were crouched in, you brush off the dirt from your trousers. “Scared? Please, I was bored waiting for you to finally finish off the damn thing.” You snap back, circling round the corpse. 

Mussed silver hair and those eyes… they bore into your very soul when they meet your own. He had to be the same age as you, maybe older. He carried himself in such a way that you were drawn to take a step closer. “I don’t know whether to applaud or roll my eyes. You obviously have an attitude problem.” He scoffs, tossing the muddled hoe to the side. “It’s dangerous to just stand around, come with me.” 

A giggle falls from your lips before you can stifle it. “With you? So you can yell another demon to its death? I think I can handle myself.” His eyes track your movement as you pull a sharp dagger from your belt. You flip it in the air, catching it by the handle with ease. 

He rolls his eyes this time. “A few party tricks will wind up with you dead,” He mutters, nodding his head toward the treeline. “Besides, we don’t have much time before the selection is finished.” Ah, he was right about that. It was better to stick with someone who knew their way out of this forest, because if there was one thing you weren’t good at, it was directions. 

 You kick at the dirt, the dust spreading onto a few kikus by a tree stump. “Fine, but you’re sharing your Ohagi.” You demand, trotting up to stand next to him. He peers down at you, some of his hair falling into his lavender eyes. You get a flashback to your little brother and how the same thing would happen to him. It’s a simple action, but you regret it as soon as his eyes dart from your hand back to your eyes. 

He catches your wrist, pulling it from his face. “Don’t touch me.” He growls, but quickly clears his throat, letting go of your arm. “And I am not sharing my Ohagi.” 

2 years later

That’s it, you were going to quit. Sanemi stares deadpanned toward the recently slaughtered demon, his nichirin sword covered in ichor. He then darts his gaze toward your figure, which also happens to be covered in demon ichor. “Nemi…don’t make me take this sword and shove it so far up your-” 

There’s a loud crack from behind you. Another demon looms out from behind a tree, drooling from its maw. A sigh deflates from your mouth, pissed at the interruption. You’d have to deal with Nemi later because now it was your turn to show off. The swordsmiths had trouble with you having less muscle density than the rest of the slayers. But when they saw how talented you were with close range daggers, they took that with stride. 

You pull your long blade dagger from its sheath, grinning at the large demon. “Remember, don’t get distracted-” 

“Kind of need you to shut up in order to do that Emi,” You crack your neck, beckoning the sludge-like demon toward you. “Come on fucker, I have a warm bath to take before this uniform is completely ruined.” You taunt, bouncing from foot to foot, channeling a wind style Sanemi had taught you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see a grin cock up the corner of his lips as you twist into formation. Focus glazes over your eyes as the muscles in your body harden. Your breath is almost non-existent as you set your target on the blobby creature. It wasn’t fit to be called a demon, more akin to something so close to death it was barely alive. 

Your nichirin sword hums with untapped potential, ready to explode forth and cut your target to shreds. You were practically giddy with excitement as your left foot slides forward, completing the set up. Just as the monster lets out a screeching roar you surge forward. The blade of your weapon cuts through its skin, severing an arm off with a high pitched yelp. 

Flipping back, you send a sharp gust of cold wind slicing open its abdomen. It has enough sense to peer down at its open belly, watching what insides it did have become part of the world around it. You suck in the brisk air around you, summoning a trick of your own; ice. A sharp dagger-like icicle appears in front of your chest, hovering in the current you still had summoned. You shut your eyes, picturing the icicle shooting through the girthy neck of your opponent. Then at once, everything is silent – even Sanemi. “Woah, where'd you learn how to do that?” He exclaims, his lavender gaze attached to where your summoned weapon had pinned the dangling – and headless – body of the low-grade demon against a tree. You let go of your focus too quickly, falling to your knees on the forest floor. Sanemi whips his head to observe you. “Hey, you alright? Hey come on, don’t start playing jokes on me-” His voice is cut off, not by anything else except your consciousness slipping away into nothing. 

-

The soft morning light stirs you from your slumber, a crow cawing incessantly outside. Your eyes blink open slowly, a throbbing pinch shooting from your head down your neck. You groan, shifting your sore body under the white blanket. Where were you? Your throat is unexpectedly moist and you feel fine except the stabbing pain in your head. It’s then you can hear the soft breathing of someone else. You peer to your side noting the spikey white hair you knew all too well. His arm is outstretched, his fingertips gingerly gripping your hand. Suddenly – your throat seems to dry up. What? Why is he sleeping there? Your brows knit together as you watch this boy who played up his hard exterior; be unguarded. It was baffling to observe him soundly sleeping over the side of your mattress. His long lashes brush against his squished cheeks and there’s a part in your chest that aches as you watch him. That aching steadily blooms into a warmth that makes your head throb even more. 

Somehow, you’d ended up in the infirmary. Somehow, Sanemi was sleeping by your side. Somehow… the promise you made yourself before entering the Final Selection slips away. There was room – in your heart you mean – for him. It was dangerous how much you yearned to brush your finger against his cheek. “What have you done to me…?” You whispered aloud, leaning your head to Sanemi’s level. “Why do I want to keep you around?”

His eyes twitch, before languidly opening. The first thing they find is your gaze, locking onto the fact you were staring at him. That fuzzy purple color darkens as he wakes up. His lips curve into a smile, but drop into a stern frown once he sits back on his knees. You don’t want to notice, but his hand still clasps yours tightly. “Tch, what the hell were you thinking, faintin’ like that? Your ass was lucky I was there to haul you back to the corps. My back fuckin’ hurts.” He rolls his eyes, but his thumb is gently stroking the back of your hand. He was right. What is wrong with you? He’s frustrated with you but all you can think about is how nice his warm hand feels against yours. 

You clear your throat. “Emi, I’m sorry-” He snaps a fierce look in your direction. 

“Shut yer trap, I’m not done chastising you.” He gripes, huffing out a large breath. “You are the biggest asshole I know. You’re blessed to have such an outstanding friend like me. Anyone else would’ve left you there. Now where’s my reward for savin’ yer ass?” He raises his brows gesturing to himself. 

It’s the medication you tell yourself – that’s why you do it. Your lips brush against his cheek in a delicate peck. With how your heart was hammering in your chest that action was scarier than slaying demons. His reaction – it’s not much to go off considering he freezes mid sentence. “Thank you,” you whisper in a hushed voice, too nervous that loud noises would scare him off. He’s staring, open mouthed, at you. 

A jolt runs through him and he briskly turns his head away from you. “N-next time just say thank you like a normal person…idiot.” He rubs his free hand along the nape of his neck, trying to keep his face out of your line of vision – but you’ve always been observant and your eyes widen as you see the tips of his ear rouge. What you wouldn’t give to see his face right now, but his grip on your hand was enough to tide you over for now. The sun glints off of a vase stuffed with an assortment of kikus. Just like them, something beautiful was budding here.  

1 year later

People were everywhere. It’s not that you had an issue with large groups, but usually when you were surrounded by this many bodies you were killing them. You’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. You feel on edge, but then you catch the smiling face of Sanemi Shinazugawa; newest Hashira. You tilt your head, grinning to yourself as you watch him from afar chatting with the flower Hashira – her little sister attached to her leg –  and the much larger stone Hashira. Master Ubuyashiki grins widely at something Sanemi has said, placing a hand on his back. He fits in so well among the elite slayers. “I’m glad they finally made him a Hashira.” A voice mutters from beside you. Your skin crawls with shock that you hadn’t picked up on someone being this close to you. Turning your head you meet the deep azure gaze of Giyu Tomioka, the water pillar. His presence is a wash of serenity. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t talk much or because you could feel the sorrow emanating from him. Was it some sort of requirement to go through tragedy to become a Hashira? If so, they should’ve recruited you a while ago. You scoff at your own joke, bringing Giyu’s transfixed gaze back to you. “Do you not think he’s fit?” Ah, there’s been a misunderstanding. You know what Giyu is asking, but the part of your brain that had grown since a year ago lets a salacious gaze rack up the uniform of the man across the garden. 

You find yourself clenching your thighs together. “Mmm, that's not it at all.” You hum, nodding toward Sanemi. “He’s going to save us all.” You don’t mean to say the last part out loud, but Giyu gives you a long, pondering look. 

There’s footsteps in front of you and you realize Sanemi has wandered toward you. “Good evening ma’am,” he bows his head and scoops up your hand. “Would you like to take a walk?” He inquires, shooting a glare toward the water Hashira. Giyu brushes off the line of territory Sanemi has seemingly drawn. 

“I’m glad to know we share the same sentiment, Miss Yn,” He takes a step back, bowing his head. “I bid you both goodnight.” He says curtly, then disappears around the master’s house.

Sanemi squeezes your hand, bringing your attention back to him. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” He mutters. You let out a chuckle, amused by how wrong he could be when he was so smart. “Don’t laugh.” He huffs. He was so cute like this… if only you could just tell him how much he meant to you. Sanemi guides the both of you toward a wisteria tree, stopping under its leaves. “Y’know, I want to thank these trees,” His gaze wanders the branches. 

You smile, following the many petals of the flowering tree. “Why? Because they help you kill demons?” You tease. He did love his demon killing. A rumbling chuckle rattles through his chest. You swear you can feel the vibration in your intertwined hands. 

His gaze is soft as it falls to your face. “No,” he breathes. It’s like a magnet – being drawn to his lips. When you’re close enough to feel his hot breath against your nose he opens his mouth again. “Because they brought us together.” 

You’d never been to the entertainment district to view fireworks, but if they were anything like the buzzing happening against the back of your head – you still don’t think they’d compare. Sanemi gently slides his hand through your hair, caressing the back of your head. You share a trembling breath with him as your mouths clumsily slot together. A breeze brushes along the hanging flowers causing some of them to flutter to the ground. You watch them in the reflection of his eyes as his other hand rubs against your cheek. 

He presses his forehead against yours, shutting his eyes like a starved man. You both are panting, but you can’t look away from his swollen lips. “S-Sanemi,” you start. His eyes open instantly. “I think I’ve…” You swallow hard, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

If there was one thing you knew for certain, Sanemi wasn’t a patient man. “You’re really bad at this,” He chuckles. “I know. I like you too, yeah?” 

Yeah, fireworks didn’t have shit on this. 

8 months later

Sanemi grunts as you slip out from underneath the sheets. The warming glow of the sun basks your room in glorious light. “Mmph, come back to bed,” His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. A grin spreads across your lips. 

“Well, mister Wind Hashira, I need to go train. Now, let go.” You reply, pushing lightly on his muscled arm. He pouts, burrowing his head in your back. 

“Nuh-uh,” he huffs, taking in a deep breath of your scent. “You smell divine, it’s fuckin’ infuriatin’.” He pops up, placing his chin on your shoulder. You roll your eyes with a laugh. Sanemi and you had added a few things to your friendship; like sleeping in the same bed. After a long day of work there was nothing more heavenly than walking through his door. It was home and you’d be damned if anything would happen to it. You both had yet to cross into the zone of no return – sex. You kissed… a lot, but everything halted there. No funny business. There was an understanding that this was something special, but both of you were scared to step over the line. Maybe you weren’t ready. Maybe after you became a Hashira – to become equal enough to walk by his side. “What’s my pretty girl thinking about?” 

Without a second beat you answer honestly. “Training until I drop.”

3 years later… present day.

You bow your head. “Master,” you greet. Ubuyashiki’s illness had worsened over the years to an alarming degree. Of course, you wouldn’t say anything out loud, but it kept you up at night. He taps the wooden deck next to him. 

“Come, sit my child.” He gazes at you until you brush your uniform skirt underneath yourself. The pale light blue of your haori refracts the sun brushing through the petals of wisteria trees. “You take great honor in what you accomplish. I must say, I’m very proud.” He smiles and it’s the kind of warmth that makes you want to melt into his embrace. 

You bow your head, hiding the flush rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you Master.” He places a hand on your shoulder. 

He lifts his gaze to the whispering breeze. “I think it’s time you join our Hashira meetings.” His gaze swoops to look over the once small girl he knew. “You’ve grown Yn and I need people willing to grow on my side.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “Now go, tell Sanemi.” Your mouth opens wide before snapping shut. You stand, politely dismissing yourself before rushing out the main gate of the estate. Your heart is pounding as you sprint back home. A Hashira…finally. You couldn’t believe it. All this effort, work, waiting, it was worth it. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Sanemi’s face. You’d kiss him a million times.

Your legs ache from yesterday’s training, but you push through the soreness. Hashira’s weren’t perfect, they felt pain – but having the title of Hashira was overcoming that pain to succeed in your goal. Was Ubuyashiki testing to see if you could run back to Sanemi? You’re sweating as you turn into the Wind Manor. “Sanemi!” You call, noting his sandals near the deck. “My love!” The words surprise you, but the excitement swelling in your chest overcomes the anxiety that Sanemi would find issue with it.

You trod further into your home, slipping off your boots as you step onto the deck. Sliding open the screen may have been a mistake, because you scream at the sudden presence of Sanemi on the ground. He’s wearing a stupid grin, the scars on his forehead smiling as well. Kiku and wisteria petals surround him – him on one knee. Staring up at you with a golden band pinched between his fingers. “Yn, you make me feel like those broken parts of me that always scream about how awful I am… can finally be mended. You’ve given me everything without even trying. You’re the only person who’s made me feel like I’m worth something. I want that feeling forever… marry me petal. Make me whole. I know we’re young, but with our profession, who knows how much time we’ll have left. I promise I’ll treat you right.” The past 7 years flood through your brain. The universe had put this man into your life when all you thought about was death. In part it was due to having to slaughter the only family member you had left right before the Final Selection. Your little brother had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and as his caregiver – you took care of him until the very end. 

Here was Sanemi, perfect with all his obvious issues. He’d been through so much; you’d been through so much together. He stood by you, yet you felt trepidations about accepting his proposal. He was strong, strong enough to protect you – but could you do the same? He’d been a Hashira much longer than you, seen what kind of dangers are out there. You reach up to trace the scar above his eyebrow. All those years ago he would’ve smacked your hand away, but he leans into your touch now. You were with him for most of the conception of these scars, so why were you jealous of such a permanent part of his body? 

“Yes.” You mutter, the word catching on your tongue. “I love you Sanemi Shinazugawa.” Your eyes meet and before you can choke on regret he kisses all the worries away. Your heart soars in your chest, but there’s a sinking feeling that something awful was going to tear the one good thing in your life away because you finally accepted you wanted to be happy. 

He grabs you and kisses you all over your face. “Let’s tell Ubuyashiki in the morning. With his blessin’ we’ll practically be married. You and me. Husband and wife.” A huge grin takes over both of your faces. What a beautiful melody those words were. 

If the world was about to burn though, you’d give into every carnal desire before it has a chance to fuck everything up. This meant taking the man currently trying to hide his erection to the bedroom you’ve kept innocent; until tonight. You were going to go out fucking or fighting. 

His hard face – the one he shows to everyone else, except you – melts away and is replaced by a genuine smile. “I love you too petal.” The world could wait, right now was just for the two of you. You feed into his kisses, pushing against him with filthy intentions. “Fuck, s’good,” He whispers against your swollen lips. You hadn’t realized, but your hands had worked his hair into a complete mess. “You’re driving me crazy, wife.” The word swipes you off your feet, causing you to falter in your attempts to unbuckle his belt. You blink up at him, furrowing your brows. His head tilts to the left, grinning the way he always does around you. “Got something you want to say gorgeous?” You huff out a frustrated sigh as you take a step back from him. 

“Sanemi.” You start. He quirks a brow, delightedly watching you. No time like the present to be honest with yourself. “I want to fuck you.” You finish off, observing his face drop from all snark to surprise. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but then he shuts it immediately. “Do you like the sound of that, husband?” Two could play this game. His eyes darken as he takes in your figure. 

A hum rumbles through his throat as he takes a confident step toward you. “You want to fuck me or you want me to fuck you?” He cocks a smirk onto his lips, crossing those ungodly arms across his dipping neckline. You swallow, bashfully meeting his gaze. It was annoying how much of an effect he had on you. Normally you’d be fine flirting with him, but the tingling sensation running down your thighs was starting to make you nervous. 

“B-both,” You sputter out, standing your ground as the tips of his feet brush against yours. He bends down next to your ear, letting you revel in the sight of his chest. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of his criss-cross scar. Mmm, X marks the spot.  

His hot breath fans across your neck, sending shots of magma through your body. “Mmm, you sure you can handle all of me? ‘Cause I’m not holding back on you even if you are my wife.” The way he tests the latter word on his tongue makes you squirm in place. “I can barely stop myself from ripping into your uniform as it is.”

Sanemi backs you against the far wall of your home. “Don’t think you can command me around like all those kakushi.” You pout. He caresses your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” This kiss is different from the rest, it’s hungry – starving even. His rough palms are somehow more demanding than they’ve ever been. Your fingers trace the neckline of his uniform, rubbing your thumb across his pectoral scar. His muscles tense under your touch, his lips breaking from yours to pant out a shuddering groan. A fluttering buzz makes it hard to breathe. His head is bent to stare at your fingers, hair hanging in his face. You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him. Your body is at war with itself. How perfect Sanemi is, you wanted to be the only one to see him come undone. 

Your fingers find his belt and his hands firmly plant themselves on either side of your head. It startles you when he lays his forehead against your shoulder, breathy grunts fall from his mouth – it only drives you forward in your actions. His belt slides somewhat easily free from the loops on his breaches. You unloop the button, slipping your hand underneath the clothing. A strangled hiss slides out his throat. “Shit, you’re goin’ to be the death of me.” 

Sanemi groans as you free his stiff cock from his pants. Your breath catches in your throat as you observe the length and girth of him. The color bleeds into an angry red and you swear he muffles a whimper against your skin. “That’s it baby, look at what you’ve done to me.” You glance at the back of his head then back to the beautiful apex of his thighs. You’d only seen drawings of phalluses or heard the other women chat about them. Never did you think you’d be at a loss for words when staring at one. “Ha, you goin’ to say somethin’ or just stare at me? S’startin’ to make me nervous.” He lifts his head to finally meet your gaze with lust filled eyes. A large gulp works its way through your throat, all the while Sanemi watches with rapt attention. 

“Maybe I like watching you squirm.” His brows raise as he mulls over your words. He wraps his warm hand around your wrist, leading it to his groin. He stares into your eyes the whole time, studying your reaction. It’s suddenly gotten a lot harder to breathe as your fingertips brush against the burning skin of his cock. 

“Oh? You like that huh? Maybe I should give you a better look at it.” He guides your hand down his shaft, groaning when he forms your hand around his base. Sanemi shifts his hips, sliding his cock through your rounded fist. “Damn it… just keep going – just like that.” His brows draw together and your thighs clench together. Seeing Sanemi horny and losing himself to the feeling of your hand was going to be seared into your brain. It was so wet between your legs…so wet and empty.

Your heart is seemingly trying to crawl out of your throat, but you feel so high from pleasuring him. Confidence was starting to take over the initial nerves. “So tough all the time… but you’re completely at my mercy,” You pant out, feeling the heat rise to the tip of your scalp. It was surprising you didn’t spontaneously combust with the sight in front of you. 

“Mmmhm, as wonderful as that sounds,” He shuts his eyes, trying to regain his focus. “I’m goin’ shut that pretty mouth of yours up,” Before you can wonder what he means, he shows you by pushing you to your knees. “Open,” He commands, backing up to behold your flushed cheeks and obliging mouth. You were paradise on earth. His cock is aching without your touch so he covers his length with a free hand, pumping himself like a horny teenager before you. You reduced him to pure desires and he couldn’t decide if that would be for your betterment… or your demise. “Suck it.” 

He brushes his weeping tip across your lips, creating a work of art in the process. He could stare at this all day long. Then – with one languid movement – he’s inside your warm wet mouth. He tosses his head back, his muscles flexing with enough tension they could snap. A sense of pride shoots through you, but something inside your own brain short circuits when he moans out your name. Suddenly you’re gripping his hips like a mad woman, digging your nails into his skin as you bob your head down his length – stopping at his base to hold all of him in your mouth. His legs are twitching and the stifled moans above you just drive you to swirl your tongue around the underside of his cock, where a long vein trails up to the tip. You follow it with the tip of your tongue until you meet his slit. From all the information you’ve gathered, this – this – was the most sensitive part of a man. 

You’re not sure what compels you to dip your tongue into the leaking hole, dancing your tongue across it while working your hands across the parts not covered by your mouth. The saliva you’d left behind and whatever was coming out of his tip made the movements easy. There were noises filling the room – one’s you’d be hearing echo off these walls for eternity. The wet squelching mixes with Sanemi’s whimpering moans in your favorite melody. 

Sanemi’s hand twitches to the back of your head, wrapping your hair around his flushed hands. “E-enough,” He hisses, pulling you away by your hair. You glare up at him. It’s hard to not shove you back on his cock when you look like that.

Your lips are bruised, the corners red and splotchy. Drool drips from your mouth and there’s a look in your eyes that makes Sanemi hoist you to your feet. He wasn’t going to cum unless it was inside that sweet cunt of yours. He was going to press you into the mattress until you were with his child. Suddenly his mind is blank, the only thought on rotation being ‘fill her to the brim.’

He guides you into the bedroom where the mattresses are already rolled out. Had he been thinking about this as he set up the proposal? Was the night meant to lead to this very moment? Sanemi envelopes you in his arms, kissing the tip of your nose. “Don’t you think s’unfair I’m the only one undressing?” His voice is so calm and low it goes straight from your ears to your core.

You drop your hands to the buttons on your uniform. “If you’re that eager then maybe you should help me out.” His gaze follows your hands, zeroing in on the sliver of your neck revealed. You peel back the layer of your haori, the blue fabric tumbling to the ground in a heap. Next is the top part of your uniform, slipping off the white undershirt as well. Your chest is almost bare in front of him, negating the cloth that winds around your chest. The rounds of your breasts only emphasize the heavy breaths falling from your mouth. Sanemi groans, biting into his lip. “What’s that? You were all talk just a moment ago.” You undo the clip.

Sanemi sucks in a breath, his gaze growing darker. “Describin’ your beauty takes time,” He whips his eyes up to meet yours. He cocks a grin, slowly dropping to your pebbled nipples. “As you know, m’not a man of pretty words,” He cups one of his massive hands under the heft of your chest. In an instant his lips plant a delectable kiss against the throbbing nub. The sensation rushes through your system, eliciting a pitiful moan to escape past your lips. His gaze flicks to you, watching with fire behind his expression. His lips curl into a smile against your breast. “Haa… shit, you’re really something else, huh?” A flush rushes from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. Sanemi trails wicked kisses to your jaw, stopping to visit your mouth. The corners of your mouth sting from pushing all of him in – but the pain only brings about more pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut as he grazes his teeth on your bottom lip. The grip on his shoulders tighten as you tremble with arousal. 

One muscular arm dips between your thighs, cupping your mound. He scoffs, quirking that damn brow of his. “Were you plannin’ on sharin’ how wet you are f’me, sweetheart?” He growls, bringing his hand to your lips – smearing your arousal across them. His brows narrow as you squeeze your thighs together, squirming desperately in front of him. “Ha, you need somethin’?”

You break, annoyed at the unbearable desire roaring through you. “Damn it Sanemi, stop teasing me – do something.” You huff, placing yourself in between the sleeping mats. You raise your legs and spread them wide for him. He throws his head back in a dark chuckle. 

Kneeling down beside you he runs his warm hands up your thighs. “Guessin’ all those lessons in patience from Gyomei didn’t exactly… pay off?” He snarks, brushing the bottom of your skirt out of the way. You roll your eyes, fed up with his attitude. 

“Everyone has their breaking point, Sanemi.” You grunt, turning your face away from him. He takes this as an opportunity to run his thumb along your slit. Your body straightens, a breathy moan blasting out of you. He was playing dirty.

You whisk your burning gaze back to him, still wearing the frustrated expression. “Mmm, don’t worry pretty girl, I’m about to show you yours.” He dips his head between your thighs, lapping at the plush skin where your stockings dug in. You can feel his smile. “You know, Iguro was right.” He hums, kissing circles on your inner thigh while his thumb massages the other. You couldn’t focus on what he was musing about – too focused on the excitement of having this man, whole. “Givin’ stockings to a girl was great advice.” He captures the fabric between his teeth, leisurely taking it off your leg. “Now m’constantly between your legs.” 

Why did he say these things? Now whenever you pull your stockings on he’s all you’re going to be thinking about. Not that he wasn’t already constantly on your mind. “You’re so unfair,” You pout, wishing there was something you could tease him about – but as you gaze over your bare chest the next breath catches in your throat. 

Sanemi has your leg outstretched against his chest, tossing your stockings to the side. They flutter through the air like they were glad he touched them. Lucky bitches. He eyes you as he kisses your ankle, raking his teeth against the tendons. He swoops his hand under your calf, heaving your left leg over his shoulder. “The more I hear you complain the more I want to fuck you until that pretty voice can’t talk anymore.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, sweeping his tongue against your folds. 

A startled whimper careens from within you. His tongue laps up your sex, finding its way to your entrance. You were panting now, gripping the sheets like your life depending on it. If you let go you might float up to the gods. “F-fuck,” you moan, squirming under his minstrations. This only drives his actions to a higher level as he moves his fingers to enter your weeping cunt. “Ahh, oh–” Your body is tensing around his finger and before you get used to one of his digits working in and out of you he adds another. You squeeze your thighs around his head as he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sanemi, right there,” you call out, your voice pitched higher than usual. The tandem of his tongue and fingers had your thighs trembling with the growing high of your impending orgasm. 

His head squirms free from the apex of your thighs. “S’my girl, I want your cum on my tongue,” He commands breathily. Without instruction you spread your legs for him, his pace heightening your senses as he carries you over the edge. Throaty moans and whimpers shake past your lips as you clench down. 

Sanemi slips his fingers out of you, panting as he finds your eyes. He reaches his hand to your mouth, sliding the tips of his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. “S’pretty when you cum,” He hums watching you take his fingers inside your mouth. “Makes me wanna devour you,” He tilts his head following your gaze – straight to his neglected cock. “Heh, I have three guesses as to what you want from me and the first two don’t count.” He takes his fingers back, popping them into his own mouth. “A good night’s rest?” He inquires. You shake your head. “Maybe a cute little dog?” You shake your head again. He smirks. “Ahh, that’s right. You have to be overworked to fall asleep. My girl has to be brought to the brink of death before she’s satisfied. Isn’t that right?” He coos, positioning himself closer to your core. You nod eagerly, words apparently forgotten. 

He curls his hands around your calves, yanking you closer to him and wrapping your legs around his hips. “Then who am I to deny my darling?” You wait with bated breath as he lines the head of his cock against your entrance. A sharp breath fills your lungs as he pushes gently into your wet walls, clenching around him. “S’tight.” He mutters as his hips shift forward. He holds your hips still as he burrows deeper. There’s a pinching sensation as your cunt welcomes him. “Sorry, s’sorry, doin’ s’good.” He whispers, but your pain gradually flares into an overwhelming pleasure. 

His slow methodical movements turn ravenous as he shoves his length into your greedy pussy. “S’takin’ all of me, such a good girl,” He pants, thrusting with desperation – chasing his own orgasm but focusing on the spot that makes you scream his name. “S’it,” He’s driving deeper and deeper, the slapping noise of skin against skin filling the room. He’s whining about how heavenly you are, promising to stay inside of you forever. 

You throw your head back against the pillow. “Cum for me, s’my girl, just like that.” He praises, studying the way your body shakes with burning pleasure. His encouragement floods you, your second orgasm of the night rushing through you with tingling stars. Your cunt cinches around him, eliciting a whiny moan from his lips. 

He pounds into you relentlessly, spewing apologetic moans your way. Soon enough his hot cum fills your pussy in a beautiful mess. You feel so full, it’s the kind of pressure you enjoy. He’s taken aback by how much he likes seeing your pussy stuffed with his cum. He fucks it into you, begging you to mother his children. The oozing climax slips past the seal of Sanemi’s cock, trickling down your thighs. The sensation tickles and if you had any part of your mind right now you’d be worried about the sheets. Tears roll down your face, half from happiness, half from being dicked down. He immediately catches your tears, eyes widening. “Are you okay?” He exclaims, bending to check on you. You nod your head, smiling. He blows out a breath. “Gosh, you had me worried…” He trails off, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “You should only cry when you’re with me ‘kay? So I can be there to wipe your tears.” There’s a moment where you both stare at each other, dumb smiles on your faces. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “I love you, petal. I’m never going to leave you.” He promises. 

After washing up together you lay in his arms. The night was filled with the promise of eternal love. One that wouldn’t die so easily. Once you fall asleep, the golden band on your ring finger, Sanemi slips out of your home. Before he’s completely out of the door he halts near a table – quickly scrawling the happy news of your engagement to the only other person he cherished; his little brother. He hands the note to Sorai, that way Genya was bound to hear the news the quickest. He’s the happiest he’s ever been. He wants to shout from the rooftops, but he’s on a mission to find fresh flowers for his beloved wife – well soon to be wife. He rounds his mansion, one that wouldn’t be complete without you inside of it, heading for the dirt road that leads to a small patch of kikus. He gathers a couple of the delicate flowers within his hands, stopping under the moonlight to appreciate their beauty. He pulls a line of twine from his pocket, wrapping them together. 

But he never makes it back.

With a sore throat you groan as the morning sun bleeds into your room. It appears you’d slept through most of the morning. You reach out to pat the area next to you, expecting to find the sturdy frame of the man who commanded you not to wash out his cum. A bashful grin finds its way onto your face as you remember the previous hours. Your hand doesn’t bump into anything except fabric. Where had he gone? You planned to go see Master first thing in the morning together. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your body – suddenly too cold. “S-Sanemi?” You call out, your voice hoarse.

There’s no reply, in fact the house has never been this hauntingly quiet before. An ache coils around your heart. Where was your love? You take a moment to calm your breathing, trying to think of possibilities other than he’d left you. He’d left you and was never coming back. Last night was just so he could get his fill and when he walked through the doors of his house, he wouldn’t want you to still be there. A sick warmth spreads thorns inside your stomach. 

It takes you a few minutes to get ready, hissing as your back aches with strained muscles. Your pussy throbs around nothing, begging to be stuffed again and again. You’d have to have a word with her about that later, especially if your betrothed was thinking about breaking off the engagement. He wouldn’t do that…right? 

Outside the morning is a flurry of crows and a light breeze. You squint into the sunlight, concern breaking through your faux calmness. Why were there so many crows circling the mansion? “Yn,” You jump at the sound of your name, bringing your gaze downward to the snake Hashira. Your face scrunches into sorrow as your lips quiver. His eyes are all you need to see before you rush into his arms, breaking down. Obanai allows you to cling onto him, brushing a hand down your back in what comfort he could muster. His mind was otherwise occupied. He couldn’t bear listening to your sobs for much longer. Damn it Sanemi, where the hell were you? That’s when the snake Hashira catches the glimmer of a golden band around your finger. His eyes darken. 

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” You whimper, nestled into the crook of Obanai’s neck. He releases a sigh, moving his hands to your shoulders. He moves you so that you’re looking into his eyes. He tries to hide the worry, but you’d grown up being able to read the emotions of eyes. Even in your state, it was clear – something was wrong. 

He shuts his eyes, hissing out a breath. When he opens his eyes he’s not looking at you. “We’re not sure. Sanemi made a big fuss yesterday about introducing his wife to everyone so we were all supposed to meet at Master’s estate. We waited all morning…” He trails off, turning his gaze to the sky where the afternoon sun was being covered by clouds. “He’s missing.”

Those words echoed in your head for the next two weeks. You sat in the wind manor, blank. It was like someone had pushed the reset button on you. Mitsuri tried to get you to eat, visiting you every meal time with a delicious smelling plate of food. Your stomach was tied in knots so you were unable to eat much of it. Shinobu had visited you too, checking your vitals and making sure you at least sat outside for an hour. Everyone was trying to help, some with the search party, others with looking after you. 

It was pitiful, the way you had to be taken care of every day because you couldn’t even muster moving your eyes. If you did, anything you’d see would remind you of the aching loss blooming in your body. There were times you sat and cried, staring at a wall. 

Love had splintered into pieces of the past. You were too numb to feel anything. 

A month passes and the one feeling that surfaces is resentment – to yourself. What a waste of space. You were a Hashira, apparently inept at doing her job. You let your grief take over your body instead of assisting the rest of the corps who were working tirelessly to find…Sanemi. His name. It had repeated over and over in your head. It dances through your gray matter, sinking into your brain. Pumped through your veins until he consumed all of you.

The dark early morning sky casts a glowing hue through your window. In a way the darkness was comforting because all the sun did was illuminate that you were alone. 

Get up. Find him. You stumble into a standing position, bracing yourself on the wall next to you. A rushing nausea fills your stomach. Your eyes widen as you rush outside, vomiting into the gravel. You fall to your hands and knees on the deck as the clamminess sticks to your body. A shudder courses through you as the little food you’d eaten leaves your body. Then it’s just dry heaving, tears streaming down your face as the acid stings your throat. 

You hold your stomach, hoping the pain is finally over. The tears pushed out of your body from vomiting continue, but now from the pain of loss. Sanemi would’ve taken care of you. He’d know what to do in moments like these. You bring your head to the sky, sobbing through the night. 

Your throat aches as you wake up with a start, nausea swimming around again. You curse as you scramble outside to the very same spot you’d visited earlier this morning. Once the ordeal is over, you sit there perplexed. You collect yourself, stepping into the gravel. Your body is shivering as you start walking towards Butterfly mansion. 

Shinobu perks up when you walk through her door. “Yn?” She tilts her head, scanning your body with concern. “What’s wrong?” As if she wasn’t going to inspect you until she found out. You push a weak grin onto your lips. 

A limp arm points to your stomach. “Vomit. I keep throwing up.” Her eyes widen, something crossing through them. You were so tired and there was an awful cramp twisting your guts into a mess. 

“Okay, come lay down here.” She motions for you to lay down on a cot next to her. “I’m going to ask you some questions,” She starts, peeking at you for confirmation. You nod your head, collapsing back onto the bed. She gulps, pulling up a stool next to you. “Do you usually get sick in the morning?” You nod. This elicits a shaky breath to leave her mouth. “Are you eating well? What about sleep?” You shake your head, a fucked up grin lining your lips. 

“What’s the point in any of that?” You laugh, turning your head away from her. You couldn’t stand having her look at you with such pity. She reaches out her hand, grasping your arm gently. 

“Yn, when’s the last time you had your monthly bleed?” She asks with such a soft voice you turn back to her, brows drawn together. What did that have to do with anything? Though, now that you’re thinking about it…

“I haven’t had one since earlier last month.” You whisper. Shinobu’s face falls, a curse under her breath. She sucks in that same breath before standing from her stool. “What is it?” Your mind felt fuzzy, almost clouded. 

She clasps her hands together, facing the empty room. “Yn… I think you’re pregnant…” She whips her gaze back to you. “With Sanemi’s baby.”

The color drains from your face and your pulse quickens. No. No it couldn’t be. From one time? Was that even possible? A violent shake jolts through you as you start to wail. “How could you!? How could you leave me here!?” You cover your face with the back of your arm as you continue to cry, although it was closer to the yowl of a cat. 

A baby. His baby. Your baby. 

What a joyous occasion. 

3 months later

You glance around the home you’d shared with the love of your life. Now, there was no life in this mansion. The walls had watched you cry yourself to sleep every night, it was probably time you gave them a break. “Don’t worry Miss Yn, I’ll make sure to clean it up just in case.” Tanjiro, a spitfire swordsman exclaims. You muster a sorrowful smile as you pat his head. You hope he never experiences loss like you have. 

Though you’re pretty sure someone told you his whole family had been murdered except his kid sister, who was now a demon. Okay, maybe he had it worse than you did, but the smile on his lips was a testament to how strong willed he was. A pang of pride shoots through you. “Thank you, Tanjiro.” You walk outside, turning to glance at the structure one last time, holding your growing stomach. “Say goodbye little one.” You whisper. Goodbye my love. It’s almost like you can see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, waving goodbye to you. 

Ubuyashiki instructed Giyu and Obanai to accompany you to a small village east of the corps. There was a small house waiting for you to quietly have your babies and raise them away from the dangerous headquarters. The journey was long, about a week away. 

When your small group finally stepped into the village there was a welcome party. Swordsmith village; a place only Hashira knew the way to. Usually Kakushi would have to exchange visitors on their backs to keep the location secretive. 

They welcome you with open arms, showing you to the small house where you’d be staying. “Go ahead, I’m sure you’ll want to rest.” Giyu motions for you to go inside, a slight smile on his lips. You’re worried, why would he be smiling? With a tentative hand you push open the door. There’s a figure in the middle of the room, long spiky hair falling down their shoulders. You yelp at the sight, falling back into Obanai’s chest. 

“Don’t just stand there Shinazugawa, greet your sister.” He chastises gruffly from behind you. The last name sends chills down your back as it finally clicks. 

Genya Shinazugawa turns on his heel, an all too familiar face greeting you. The breath in your lungs whoosh out. “Hey there Yn.” He bows his head, jolting when he sees the tears welling in your eyes. It’s involuntary when you rush into his arms. He tentatively holds you before tightening his grip. “S’gonna be okay. They’ll find ‘em.” He whispers against your shoulder. “S’gonna be okay.” He repeats himself, almost like he was trying to comfort himself as well. You hold each other for what feels like hours, crying with each other and spending the night talking about Sanemi. For the first time since 4 months ago you feel a lightness in your chest. 

Giyu and Obanai are staying in the inn not to far from your house, patrolling the perimeter of the village before turning in for the night. There’s a room on either side of the house, before coming together in a platform kitchen area and dirt entry way. Genya was going to stay with you for the duration of your pregnancy. Giyu and Obanai would always be close by as well. It was kind of like a little family. Giyu cooks, Obanai patrols, and Genya takes care of you. The thought makes you giggle to yourself, the sound of your laughter shocking you into silence. You spread your hand over the right side of the bed you lay in. 

“You look gorgeous in the moonlight, did I ever tell you that?” You turn your head, met with the grinning face of your lover. The weight of the whole world lifts from your shoulders as you peer into his lilac eyes. 

You shake your head. “No, I think you should tell me again.” You whisper, butting your head against his. He kisses your nose, rubbing the side of your head. 

“You’re my entire world. My gorgeous, beautiful, seductive world.”

Mornings come too soon, waking you from the enchanting dreams of having Sanemi next to you. It’s been your mission to walk through the town every morning to distract you from hopeless thoughts. “Miss Yn! Miss Yn! When’s the baby coming again!?” A little girl named Momo hops around you excitedly. Her parents were farmers and she had 5 older siblings. Her hyottoko mask slips down and before it can fall she grasps the rosy cheeks with her little hands. You laugh lightly. 

“Your mother will be upset if you continue bouncing around like a rabbit.” You ruffle her hair with the ease of attachment. It was true, this little girl had made her way into your aching chest, easing some of the pain. Genya trots up next to you, holding out a shiny rock. You cock your head curiously. 

He rounds in front of you, halting the movement of both you and Momo. He places the shiny rock in Momo’s hands. “Here, for you m’lady.” He squats down to show her the crystalized pattern on the back of the stone. Momo gasps when she realizes how pretty the rock is. 

She bounces up and down again, whooping about how Genya was the best big brother ever. He laughs but you can see the pain behind his eyes. Momo runs in circles around your legs, gripping her rock like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I think you just made a best friend.” You tease and Genya’s face spreads into a knowing grin. 

His gaze flows down to your rounded tummy. “Just practicin’. I want to make him proud.” His words are like the air sucked from your lungs. 

You peek at your stomach, running a hand over the bump. “You already have,” you mutter, trying to think happy thoughts as the memory of this morning’s dream tries to take over. “Momo, how about you take big brother Genya to the hot springs?” You suggest to the wide-eyed girl. 

Genya doesn’t have time to react before she yanks him toward the stone stairs. You smile watching them leave. It was taking time, but you were starting to heal. 

The walk to the gate doesn’t take a lot of time, but chatting with curious villagers makes it late afternoon by the time you continue your walk along the forest line. The kakumaki around your shoulders shifts as you brace against a chilling winter breeze. The air was crisp, but it reminded you of the winters spent under Sanemi’s arm, snuggled together by the fireplace. 

Today was his birthday and no matter how much love you were surrounded with, you just wanted to be alone. To think about him and wish him a happy birthday.

Snow lines the pathway, pushed against the short stone wall that extended for miles on either side. A sparrow flies above your head as you continue, humming a traditional song. You adored your neighbors, but the village became stuffy with all the fluttering around you. You’re sure some of the villager girls were happy there were two male Hashira staying close by. Maybe if Giyu got laid he’d learn how to smile – or not look like a psychopath while doing so. 

A grin lines your lips thinking about the friends whom you cherished so much. The air in front of you puffs out, warmth meeting the cold. Honestly, winter was your favorite season. You might be slightly partial due to your breathing style, but there was just something about peering over a field powdered in a white blanket. Trees were gray and bare, but with snow they became royalty swaying across a ballroom. There was one word for it – majestic. “Happy Birthday Emi.”

You’re about to brush some snow off the wall and perch against it when you hear a twig snap. A line snaps your head in the direction of the sound. It could very well be an animal, but they learned to avoid making noise in the winter in case a predator was around. Against every fiber of your being you call out, “Hello?” 

After a few beats of silence your heart starts to calm down. Okay, so maybe you were going crazy. Wouldn’t be news to you. “Petal,” The chill that runs down your spine paralyzes you. The boots you wore were stuck to the dirt. It was such an unhuman noise. Like a growl mixed with choking. There’s nothing but the vast white staring back at you. That doesn’t stop you from rushing back toward the village, clutching the furs over your shoulders. That night Sanemi doesn’t appear in your dreams. 

When you wake up, fresh snow has fallen over the village. Obania storms into your home, meeting your gaze with panicked eyes. “Thank the Gods,” He hisses, Giyu clamoring in behind him. Curiosity pierces your skin. 

“What’s going on?” You interrogate. Giyu glances at the snake Hashira, his gaze avoiding you naturally. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, staring intently out your window. “There’s been an attack. One of the villagers was killed last night.” His deep azure stare slides to meet yours. “By a demon.”

4 months later

Since then, multiple attacks have showered the swordsmith village with blood. “Miss Yn, is the baby going to be okay?” Momo lays on the ground of your kitchen, kicking her feet behind her. You smile as you set a plate full of ohagi in front of her. “Gee thanks!” She squeals. “Ma never lets me have these!” Great, her mom was probably going to give you a stern talking to.

You ease yourself down on the edge of the platform next to Momo. “From how strong they are, I think they could beat up even Mister Obanai.” You chuckle, observing Momo’s eyes widen with wonder, her hyottoko mask forgotten on the ground. She jumps up excitedly and punches the air. 

“Yeah! The baby can fight off the demon that killed my dad!” You wince as she brings up the first killing of the demon that had been eluding two Hashira. Three if you count yourself – which you didn’t. You pat Momo’s back, settling her down. 

She leans into you, affectionately kissing your temple. “Would you like to feel the baby kick?” You offer, chuckling as Momo nearly pounces on your large baby bump. “Careful now,” You laugh. Momo’s tiny hands press against your stomach, yelping when it jolts from the baby’s movement. 

“Feels like you have an army in there…” She mutters, furrowing her brows. “You sure there’s only one baby?” You raise your brows with a comical laugh. The village healer, Momo’s grandmother, must’ve been telling her about pregnancies. 

You place your hand over hers. “I’m pretty sure,” At least you hope so. You barely knew what to do with one baby, let alone more. “Why don’t you get tucked in, I’m sure your mother will be home soon.” After the tragic death of her husband Momo’s mother had moved in with you after growing close due to Momo’s obsession with your baby and helping with her mother’s check ups. Having the house full of noise was a better distraction than seeing Genya’s face in the morning and feeling a thrill of excitement only to wake up more and feel the drop of sorrow again. It wasn’t fair to Genya and it was starting to give you a complex. 

Genya was in the other room so it would be fine if you slipped out for a while right? The early spring night air greets you like it's been waiting. A loud crash breaks the peaceful night air. You’re immediately on guard, but it drops when Momo appears in front of you holding your nichirin daggers. “I’m gonna be a Hashira like you some day!” She yells before bolting into the forest. A part of you is honored, but then reality comes crashing down your body. 

“Wait! Momo!” You screech, reaching out for her small body. She shouldn’t be out here! You try to move as fast as you can toward where she ran, but progress is slow. Your ankles are swollen and the pressure on your stomach and back make you want to roll over and die. “Momo!” You call, panic settling into your bones. “Momo come back!” 

You hear rustling and your heart sores thinking she’s found her way back to you, but a rabbit bounces forth from the foliage. 

A throat wrenching scream startles birds from their slumber. Your skin prickles as it continues. Then – as if sent by hell itself – Momo’s voice calls out your name before the noise goes silent. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly. No, no, no, no, no. You continue to repeat that word to yourself as you brush past branches, thorns lashing out to your skin. You’re bleeding, but you don’t care. Nothing is as important as getting to Momo.

Blood. The forest ground is covered in it. Hunched over a small figure is what you can only assume is a demon. Your training tells you as much, but the fact it’s still crunching on Momo’s leg is telling enough. 

Your gut twists as you take in the scene before you. Momo had valiantly stabbed the monster with one of your daggers in the thigh. Her little hand was reaching out toward you, her glazed eyes staring into yours. Too late. You feel sick. Your body is woozy, you feel like liquid as you stumble forward. Kill it. Bile rises to your throat, you have to swallow the burning sensation down. Fucking kill it. Wet slurping noises make your nose scrunch up with disgust. You were going to throw up. Your hand is shaking as you reach for the other dagger, somehow near your feet. You’re a Hashira. Your muscles tense, yelling at your body to prolong the sobs you could feel building behind your facade. 

The wind blows the smell of blood and demon toward you. Stalling your movements. Oh no, you were going to vomit. Moonlight casts a glowing light toward Momo’s corpse. Fuck, you were going to avenge her. You’re panting, body unmoving. That is until you catch the black kanji on the back of the demon. Satsu – to kill. Your body is swaying with how hard you’re breathing. “S-Sanemi?” You weep out, collapsing to your knees. Twigs and sharp pebbles dig into your skin, but the radiating shakes and adrenaline keeps you from feeling it. 

Sure enough, the demon turns its body. Four horns sprout from his silver hair. The two front ones were taller than the two back ones. The tips were a deep maroon, bleeding into a soft purple. The same effect was present in the tips of his hair. His eyes reflect the moonlight – the glowing red color causing you to clamp a hand over your mouth. His uniform was across his body, revealing the chest you’d fallen asleep on. Green swirling marks snake around his chest and biceps. The bottom of his uniform was tucked into a pair of breeches, hanging low on his hips. Gone were his scars, gone was his life, gone was the man you loved. 

8 months ago

“Petal.” He sneers and the noise fills you with dread. He’d been with you this whole time. 

Somewhere out there was my wife and no matter what – I was going to make it back to her. The last thing I remember is sensing something near me while I was gathering flowers for her to smile at in the morning. There was a fight, I tried my best; not for me, but for her. My life was nothing until she molded me into something great. Here I was, failing her yet again. 

I thrash around, feeling rope strangling my wrists. Somehow I’d been tied to a damn chair. Trained Hashira and my end was going to come from a chair. I click my tongue, what are a few more scars? I tense my muscles and attempt to break free from restraints. 

An overwhelming presence washes over me as my failure resides in my heart. “Ah, you’re awake.” That voice. My jaw clicks with fury. If I just had my sword he’d be dead on the ground. I needed to find a way to escape. 

“Show your face, coward.” I hiss out, squinting my eyes as the apparent bag over my head is ripped off. Before me is none other than the Demon king, Muzan Kibutsuji. His crimson eyes light up with delight as I face him with blood lust. 

His raven hair is loose around his face, falling forward as he leans toward me. “Watch your tongue Shinazugawa or I might have to cut it out.” He chastises and I surge forward in the chair. I instantly regret thinking I had any chance of escaping because the wooden let down starts to fall forward – with me in it. Muzan catches the back of the chair, his scent filling my nostrils. “Careful, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” He sneers, settling the chair back on all four legs roughly. My blood boils with a blinding white rage. 

Hurt? Wasn’t that why he captured me? To kill me? He must notice my questioning face because he straightens his waistcoat, a lecherous grin lifting his lips to expose how much of a monster he really was. “The other Hashira are going to kill you.” I spit out, the rage she had quelled in me fuming up to the top of my head. 

Muzan laughs, raising his brows in amusement. “I’m sure they will.” He watches me out of the corner of his eye as he sinks his teeth into his own wrist. What the actual fuck? I turn away in disgust, bile rising to the back of my throat. Memories, they were flooding back to my mind. Surfacing the murky water I tried to submerge them in all those years ago, for her. His fingers grip my chin, yanking me to look at him. He’s towering over me and every cell inside of me wants to reach out and kill him. He dangles his wounded wrist above my mouth, forcing me to lift my head upward. My muscles are twitching as I twist my head away. A growling hiss echoes around the room as Muzan viciously positions me forward again. I want to cry. I want to whimper. I can’t. Not if I ever want to see her again. 

“Fuck. You.” I sneer through squished cheeks. The demon in front of me slams his wrist down, lining it up with my half parted lips. 

“You will drink orrr,” His eyes are crazy, yearning for violence. “I’ll have to go kill that pretty wife of yours.” 

His blood seeps down my throat, a tickling sensation because I refuse to swallow it. It’s tangy, metallic, and awful. How dare it mix with the taste of her. “Smart choice.” The first drop reaches my gut and the urge to throw up almost overtakes me. “When I return, I hope you’ll be…” He shoves my chin away, causing my body to fall over on the ground. I hit the stone floor with a loud clack and the wind whooshes out of my mouth. My skin feels like it’s crawling with parasites. “Hungry.” He laughs before leaving me in the cold room. 

 A few months later

They’ve tied me down, mocked me, tortured me – and yet I still carry on. It’s her voice that keeps me sane as they force rotten flesh down my throat. I’m turning into something dangerous – vile. A demon. An experiment. A mixed breed between a demon and a slowly dwindling human consciousness. 

My love, my warmth, my beautiful petal. I’m fading. I wish I could kiss you one more time. A sick smile works its way onto my lips. Propose to you a million times over, wrapping your wedding vows around my neck. I wouldn’t last much longer – I was too weak in the end. 

Muzan visited me often, injecting me with concoctions he’d made in the lab. I’d been tamed by the damn upper moons. I wasn’t a demon, but I sure as hell wasn’t human any more either. I desperately clung to the vision of her in my mind, but her eyes – the ones I could stare into for eons – were slowly slipping away. 

I squeeze my eyes shut. At least I could still envision her sweet smile. If I couldn’t be her husband… I’d have to be her hell.

A couple weeks later

Who knew horns would get in the way? It almost makes me feel sorry, but I couldn’t really feel anything. I worm my way through the trees, grinning to myself that I’d become so strong even Kokushibo had gotten out of my way. After all, I was the only one that could complete this mission; eradicate the swordsmith village.

I suddenly stop, the wind carrying a familiar – nauseating – scent toward me. My mouth feels dry, but my chest tightens as if the heart that was once there yearns to flutter. I pull the nood further over my head, hiding from the sunlight beaming through the trees. The snow made everything blinding, but I could still see. I could still see you.

I swallow, freezing in my advance. What were you doing here? I feel sick and…hungry. My nose curls in a snarl as I take a step forward. In my mindless draw toward you I make a noise that makes you twirl around. 

My breath catches in my throat, a thrumming sensation building in my chest. “Hello?” You call out. 

Your voice. It washes over me in a blanket of what I had lost. In a blanket of what I still yearned for. I bring my forearm to my mouth, biting down so I don’t call back to you. Today was my birthday and the heavens put you before me. So I call out in that name I always did.

4 months later

I’d been watching you. I couldn’t leave your side – or at least that’s what I told myself. I sought after your company from miles away. I watched as Obanai hunted for me, his face ragged with lack of sleep. I boiled with jealousy as I saw you laugh with that bastard Giyu. Then in an unexpected twist, my brother cared for you. There was a little girl as well – you loved her. 

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. I love you. Hunger. Hungry. I slip into the shadows. A while later I hear yelling. Your voice. I’d become addicted to the sound of it. Even in this state. 

“Wait Momo!” You sound worried. I grin to myself. I always knew you so well. I could tell by the slightest inflection in your voice what you were feeling. 

“You killed papa,” A tiny voice huffs. I turn, taking in the panting sight of the little girl – Momo. She’s dragging your nichirin daggers behind her tiny body. I killed her papa? Yeah… I guess I did. I feel a pang of what a human might call guilt, but it's swallowed by the sudden urge to slay this small child. My mind goes blank as the largely demon part of me pushes what little human thoughts I had left down…down…down.

I can taste blood. It’s a glorious snap of bones. I crave the syrupy sweetness of innocence. My body shifts, feeling something sticking out of my thigh. One of your daggers the girl had stabbed me with while she screamed your name. Her blood drips down my jaw now. That sickening smell assaults my nose again and before I have time to react I hear a thump against the ground. 

I know it’s you. I can smell you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m so hungry. I turn my gaze away from the corpse in front of me. You’ve fallen to your knees, sobs choking your next breath. My arm twitches. “S-Sanemi?” You weep out and my name has never sounded so melodic. I could kiss you. You were here. For me.

Your scent fills my head, but for whatever reason I can smell my own scent as well… my human scent. My gaze drops to your stomach where a very obvious bump rounds your yukata. How had I not picked up on this yet? You were pregnant? With whose… then it dawns on me. 

Mine. You were pregnant with my offspring. A twinge of pride courses through my veins. I can feel three souls interlocked. Twins aye? I bring my gaze back to your trembling one. A boy and a girl. I want to ask you what names you have picked out. 

A low rumble echoes out of my chest as I move toward you. I want to wipe away your tears. I want to be your husband… “Petal.” I sneer, reaching toward your cheek to collect the steady stream of tears. Blood mixes with your sorrow. You slap my hand away, face morphing into anger. You scramble away from me. 

Yes, I wanted to be your husband…but I was your monster.

Present time {yn POV} 

Fate is a cruel mistress to have my body warm with recognition. My husband…my monster. What happened to him? Your eyes fall to Momo’s crumbled body again and the wash of grief carries you to your feet, scrambling away from the scene. “Petal, my love?” 

Your body recoils at the swallowed sound of his words. The fangs protruding from his mouth mumble his speech. “Get away from me.” You pant. His head tilts. “Get away from me!” You scream. There’s a collective breeze that blasts past you as Obanai appears next to you, Giyu not too far behind him. You feel like sobbing all over again. 

Obanai’s face is contorted in confusion and his arms shake with unbridled anger. “Sanemi?” He calls out. Giyu’s head whips to stare at the demon before all three of you. 

Sanemi scoffs, standing up from his position on the ground. “Was I so easy to replace?” He coos maliciously. “You spread your legs for every Hashira?” He chuckles, moving behind Momo’s body. Obanai and Giyu’s face fall as they realize what’s going on. 

HIs words hurt, but at this point you were too numb to even care what venom he’d spew at you. “Don’t talk to her like that.” Giyu commands, drawing his katana. Sanemi clicks his tongue, shaking his head. 

“Don’t you talk to her.” He growls, his eyes flashing a deeper crimson. “She’s mine.” 

“Yn! Get behind me!” Genya yells, appearing next to you. No, no, no, not Genya. This kept getting worse and worse. His eyes tremble as he stares at his big brother. A monster. 

Your back is pushed against a tree as Sanemi draws his own katana, beckoning the three men around him to attack. “Don’t you know it’s not okay to touch what isn’t yours?” He taunts. Obanai is the first to make a move. Swinging a gust of purple swirls toward the old wind Hashira. He deflects it was a sickening familiar green strike, twisting in the air like he’d taught you. Giyu rushes in, surging forward with his own water breathing style. 

It’s hard to make out what’s happening as the woods erupt in blue, green, and purple. Kaburamaru slicing away at Sanemi’s arms while Giyu cleanly attacked his abdomen. The dagger that was in his thigh slips away, clanging to the ground near Genya. 

He glances at you, his eyes easing into a sad smile as he picks up the weapon. “Genya…no.” You whisper, but he’s already gotten up. He turns on his heel, saluting you proudly before driving the dagger deep into his brother’s chest, pinning him to a tree. You gasp, seeing blood splurt out of Sanemi’s mouth. 

Genya and Obanai nod at each other. Together they intertwine their breathing, aiming for Sanemi’s demonic neck. Before they can make it, Sanemi uses his own breathing to send Genya flying against one of the trees next to you. “Oops,” He hums, turning his attention to the two Hashira still attacking. 

A scream builds in your throat, but nothing comes out. With trembling legs you rush toward when Genya’s bloodied body lays on the forest floor. “G-Genya.” You sob, collecting his bleeding head in your lap. His eyes are still smiling as he peers up at you. “No, no, no, no please. I can’t lose you too.” Your tears plip on his cheeks, mixing with the grim and plasma on his face. His hand limply finds yours. 

“You,” He coughs up blood, spitting it on the ground next to you. “Won’t.” He wheezes, squeezing your hand. Your face crumples into his hair, breathing in his comforting scent. 

You wouldn't lose the other one this easily. You couldn’t let another Shinazugawa die. You glance up, seeing Obanai and Giyu wearing thin as they war against the much stronger wind Hashira. You were useless and your soul felt like it was wilting. 

You had to do something. Something. Anything. “Sanemi.” You say, but the name is barely above a whisper. All the memories of what you had lost and everything you’d gained build enough pressure in your chest. “SANEMI!” 

Your scream gains his attention just long enough for Giyu and Obanai get him against a tree again. Obanai flipping as he sends his blade toward Sanemi’s throat. You watch in horror as a single tear falls from Sanemi’s eye. You swear he mouths I love you before his head disconnects in a straining last few moments. The kiss of sunrise blinks through the tops of the trees and it’s over. Everything is over. 

A month later

“I still can’t believe you didn’t name one after me.” Genya huffs, groaning as he shifts in his cot. You grin, smiling down at the bundle of innocence in your arms. Shinobu treds next to you, gazing down at the baby in her arms as well. 

A glaze of warmth is over her eyes. “I still can’t believe you came back…” She trails off, patting the cheek of your son with the pad of her pointer finger. You lean your head on her side, smiling up at her. 

“But I’m glad I did. There’s no better place to raise them than here.” You say, the feeling in your chest blossoming when Obanai and Giyu walk through the door. “Hey guys!” You greet, rising from your chair. Obanai stays near the doorway, but Giyu opens his arms as he walks toward you, taking your little girl out of your arms. “Is everyone on the way?” You ask, eyeing Obanai. He nods curtly, his face lighting up every so slightly when Shinobu shows him your son. 

You help Genya to his feet, guiding him the short distance to headquarters. The other three follow behind you, chatting and cooing with the babies. “Do you think you’re going to be alright?” Genya mutters, looking at you with concern lining his face. You nod your head, a sad smile lifting your lips. 

“I will be now.” The April spring wind blows a lovely flowering scent toward your group. You bask in the sunlight as you walk the rest of the path. “Hey guys, could you give me a minute?” You suddenly ask, an overwhelming feeling calling out to you. 

Shinobu gives you a worried look but then nods slowly. “We’ll meet you there, okay?” She says and within a moment the group has disappeared around the estate house. You turn on your heel toward the wisteria tree, still standing sturdily in the back garden. 

A deep breath brings the smell of blossoms through your body. “Jinya looks just like you and Momo has your attitude.” You laugh, gazing up at the hanging petals. “I miss you Sanemi.” You whisper. A gust of wind carries a few dancing petals toward you and your heart warms. “I love you so much.”

I love you too, petal.

[hrrtshape]

adrift on a sea of self-inflicted delays.

you are in your boat. not a grand ship, not some shining schooner with crisp sails and a well-fed crew. no, this thing is barely floating. there are patches where there shouldn’t be patches. the wood sighs when you shift your weight. it’s a miracle of engineering only in the sense that it hasn’t killed you yet. you should be grateful. you are not.

you have been on this sea longer than is reasonable, longer than you care to admit. you tell yourself it’s been days. it’s been years. the salt has fused to your skin like it belongs there. the ropes, frayed from overuse, are just as much a part of you as your own hands. every night, you tie the same knots, untying them in the morning like a ritual will save you. the oars complain under your grip. not because they’re weak, but because they have known you too long. they have watched you row in circles and been too polite to mention it.

and still, despite every storm, every feverish, maddening night spent chasing false stars, you remain afloat. you have been lost, yes, but more damning than that: you have been waiting. staring into fog so thick you could convince yourself there was nothing beyond it. you have chased the flicker of phantom lanterns, thinking they would lead you home, only to realise they were reflections of your own hands waving desperately back at you.

and yet.

the lighthouse has always been there.

it was not hidden, not some mythic mirage conjured by the delirium of loneliness. it was standing there the whole time. maybe you didn’t notice it at first. maybe you pretended not to. maybe it was easier to believe the stars were too dim, the compass too wild, the sea too endless, rather than admit you were stalling. easier to paint the ocean as a cruel, unsolvable labyrinth than to accept that all you ever had to do was point the boat forward and move.

but the light has been there. is there. right there.

it carves a path through the mist, unwavering, unbothered by your indecision. it does not call to you. it does not need to. it exists, steady and absolute, rooted in stone against the horizon. the kind of solid you have not felt in yourself for years. maybe ever.

but instead of rowing toward it, you do what you do best: you hesitate. you tell yourself you need to prepare. you cannot ruin this. you’ve been at sea too long to mess up now. you need to be sure. what if the light goes out the moment you reach it? what if it’s not meant for you? what if, and this is the most damning of all, you get there and realise there is nowhere left to go?

so you pause. you smooth out your tattered maps, hands trembling over their creased, useless lines. you tie and untie the same knots. you measure the wind, as if that has ever made a difference to you. you grab a book titled how to navigate the ocean and convince yourself that one more chapter will make all the difference.

but your boat does not move.

what if i’m not ready? what if i need a bigger boat? what if there are rocks beneath the surface? what if this lighthouse is not meant for me?

you glance back at the expanse of sea behind you, the one that almost drowned you a thousand times. the one you hated, resented, wept over, and swore you’d escape. and suddenly, it does not seem so bad. at least there, you did not have to try. at least there, you could tell yourself the lighthouse was too far away.

and so you stall. you complicate. you convince yourself that a straightforward thing must be difficult. that this light, this beacon, this blindingly obvious answer, is a riddle that needs solving rather than simply. a destination.

but the lighthouse does not require this overthinking.

it is not asking for anything from you. it does not need your rituals. it does not care how many times you have failed. it does not care if you are ready. it does not care if you believe in it or not. it is simply there.

and so, after years of second-guessing, after a lifetime of mistaking movement for progress, you finally do the one thing you have not done before.

you let go.

you stop checking the map. you stop looking for signs. you place your hands on the oars, point the boat forward, and row.

and suddenly, the water is calm. the mist parts. the shore gets closer, and closer, and closer, until the lighthouse looms above you, its light not just guiding you, but on you. illuminating you. wrapping around you like the thing you have been waiting for your whole life.

you have made it. not because you prepared. not because you deserved it. but because you stopped making it complicated.

because the lighthouse was never far. you only needed to believe it was yours to reach.

and you did not need the map. or the right words. or the right moment.

you only needed to move.

so stop hesitating.

the light is shining. the shore is waiting.

go.

[valeisaslut]

been thinking ab what you said about ellie in her groupie era feeling wanted and knowing she could give girls a night they would never forget and i think im just too soft in general and too soft for ellie but i think i kinda broke my own heart thinking about it LMAO. not trying to mischaracter ur version of ellie/collide’s ellie but god something about the idea of her being with all of these girls more as an act of service for THEM over her own pleasure? having her heart broken so bad in highschool that she lets herself be wanted without being seen? giving other girls an experience that she technically didn’t have herself? i’m reading too much into it and i know that’s probs def not what you meant at alllll but my mind ran away with it ugh

NO BECAUSE THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED PEOPLE TO DO. i want you to overanalyze her. i want you to spiral. i want you to break your own heart with it. because YES—collide!ellie is emotionally so complex and i’ve barely scratched the surface on what’s going on in that little freak’s brain. but chapter 7 and especially 8 are gonna go all the way in on her psychology and history and why she is the way she is.

SO... A DEEP DIVE INTO COLLIDE'S ROCKSTAR!ELLIE MIND:

you hit the nail on the head. groupie-era ellie wasn’t out there for herself—she was out there because being wanted by someone else was the only way she could feel anything close to value. she slept with girls because she liked the idea of giving them a night they’d never forget, of them telling their friends “you’ll never guess who i hooked up with last night.” it was power, sure, but it was also protection. if she’s giving them everything she never got, then maybe it won’t hurt as much when they leave.

because that’s the thing—ellie doesn’t believe people stay.

she got her heart broken so bad when she was young, and then lost people again and again, and somewhere along the way, she just… shut the door. shut the windows. locked the whole damn house. and she was fine with that! she was like “cool. no one gets in. i’m chill. i’m sexy. everyone and their mom want me. i play guitar. whatever.”

and then reader comes along like a wrecking ball of emotion and chaos and glitter and sharp edges and suddenly ellie is spiraling because she wants to let someone in so bad but she doesn’t remember how. she never actually learned.

and the joel stuff? ohhh my god. she’s holding that grudge like it’s her job. like her hatred is the only thing keeping her upright some days. but the truth is? it’s eating her alive. there’s so much pain under all that bitterness. like she’s mad, yeah, but she’s also sad. sad in the way that makes your bones ache. she’s still just that kid who wanted her dad to love her right, and now she’s too proud and too angry to admit how much that rejection still hurts.

and the thing is… ellie knows she’s doing this to herself. she knows she’s burned bridges and iced herself out. she knows that reader is the first person in years who’s actually gotten through, and that terrifies her. because if she lets herself have this—if she lets herself be seen—then she has something to lose again.

so no. you’re not reading too much into it. you’re reading it exactly right. this fic is a silly popstar and rockstar romance and a devastating character study of a girl who would rather ruin her own life than admit she’s scared of being loved. and i love you for seeing it.

[tenessee-walker]

HIIIII could I PLEASE get a arthur headcannon where he loves y/n but she’s rich and respectable and he’s not?

oooooo ofccc

lovesick!arthur who never should’ve fallen for you in the first place—because you’re too good, too sweet, too respectable for a man like him. You come from money, wear delicate silk gloves, and have this grace about you that Arthur feels like he’d ruin just by standing too close.

lovesick!arthur who knows he ain’t got a single damn thing to offer you. You’ve got fine dinners, high society parties, and expensive jewelry—what could he give you, aside from dirty hands and blood on his knuckles?

lovesick!arthur who damn near faints when you start sneaking out of your family’s estate just to see him. Late at night, barefoot in the grass with your dress hitched up so you don’t trip, a breathless, “Arthur—I couldn’t stay away.” And Arthur just stands there like an idiot, hat in hand, jaw slack. “Yer crazy, girl.”

lovesick!arthur who’s painfully aware of how rough he is compared to you. Like the first time you ever held his hand, his immediate reaction was to pull away, mumbling, “I-I’m too dirty, miss, you shouldn’t—” but you wouldn’t let him go,squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t care, Arthur.” And God help him, that nearly killed him on the spot.

lovesick!arthur who desperately wanted to take you on a real date—but he’s got no money, no fancy carriage, no fine dinner to offer you. So instead, he mumbles about some lousy little stargazing spot he knows, “It ain’t much, but… reckon it’s real pretty out there.” and you beam like he just offered you the world. “I’d love that, Arthur.”

lovesick!arthur who spends the entire day before your date agonizing over it. He tries to brush his hair back, scrubs his face raw trying to get the dirt off, and he even tries to find a nicer shirt but—hell, he doesn’t have anything fine enough for you.

lovesick!arthur who nearly backs out of the date because he’s so ashamed. He’s pacing by the river, muttering to himself, “Stupid, stupid—why’d ya think she’d wanna sit in the dirt with you, Morgan?” But before he can leave, he sees you running toward him, all breathless and beautiful and smiling, and he’s done for.

lovesick!arthur who physically freezes when you arrive—because there you are, dressed in one of your finest gowns,pearls around your neck, and here he is… just a scruffy outlaw who couldn’t even set up a proper date. “Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, this ain’t… this ain’t much.”

lovesick!arthur who looks like he’s about to cry when you just grin at him, not a hint of disappointment in your eyes. *“Arthur. I didn’t come here for something fancy—I came here for you.” And that right there? Might’ve been the moment he fell in love for real.

lovesick!arthur who awkwardly leads you to the stargazing spot, apologizing the whole time. “Ain’t got no picnic or nothin’. Just thought—well, figured ya might like the sky.” And when you sit down in the grass without hesitation,hitching up your dress and patting the spot beside you, Arthur just stares like you hung the stars yourself.

lovesick!arthur who can’t stop fidgeting because you’re so close, and you smell like expensive perfume, and your gloved hand keeps brushing his in the grass and—Jesus Christ, he’s dying.

lovesick!arthur who actually flinches when you suddenly rest your head on his shoulder, voice soft. “It’s beautiful, Arthur.” And Arthur, stiff as a board, croaks out, “Y-yeah. S’pretty, ain’t it?” (He wasn’t talking about the stars. He was talking about you.)

lovesick!arthur who keeps beating himself up the whole time. “She should be eatin’ steak in some damn ballroom, not sittin’ in the dirt with me.” But then you lace your fingers through his—delicate little fingers intertwined with his scarred, calloused hand—and suddenly Arthur doesn’t think he could let go if he tried.

lovesick!arthur who completely freezes when you tilt your face up toward him, real soft and hopeful. “Arthur… would you kiss me?” His whole body seizes like ma’am, you wanna do what?

lovesick!arthur who very shakily cups your face—hands rough, scarred, trembling like he might break you—before finally leaning down and kissing you, soft and uncertain like he’s terrified you’ll pull away. (You don’t.)

lovesick!arthur who damn near passes out when you make this soft little noise against his mouth, one hand curling into his shirt—and that’s when Arthur completely caves, deepening the kiss with a low, desperate hum. Like he needs you to know he’s in love with you.

lovesick!arthur who damn near cries when you pull away, breathless and starry-eyed, and just whisper, “I think I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.” Arthur literally has to look away because Jesus Christ, he’s gonna cry. “Don’t say that, darlin’… I ain’t no good fer ya.”

lovesick!arthur who breaks apart when you suddenly reach behind your neck, unclasping your fine, delicate pearl necklace—probably worth more than his entire life—and gently slip it over his head, letting it fall against his chest. “It’s yours now.”

lovesick!arthur who immediately tries to give it back, stammering, “No, no, I-I can’t take that, darlin’, it’s too—” but you just cup his face, smiling softly. “It’s mine to give. And I want you to have it.”

lovesick!arthur who wears that damn necklace every single day after that—tucked under his shirt, right against his heart.

lovesick!arthur who never takes it off, not even during bounties or jobs or gunfights, and when the gang teases him about the little glint of pearls under his shirt, Arthur just mutters, “Ain’t none o’yer business.”

lovesick!arthur who completely breaks down the next time you see him and press your forehead to his. “I love you, Arthur.” And Arthur, voice cracking, can only rasp, “…Goddamn it, I love you too, darlin’.”

lovesick!arthur who knows this can’t last forever—you’re rich, respectable, and too good for an outlaw like him—but every time you kiss him, clutch his necklace, and promise “I’ll come back to you,” Arthur clings to that hope like it’s the only thing keepin’ him alive.

lovesick!arthur who falls asleep every night with one hand clutching that necklace, silently praying, “Please let her come back t’me. Please.”

[universal-verringbebe]

LADS MEN AS YANDERES

Alternatively titled "when your boyfriend is a yandere but that's your kink"

a tentative 18+ MDNI because I don't get explicit but it's HIGHLY suggestive

Zayne:

• My man's is CRAZY possessive and dominant.

• You're not allowed to see any other doctors but him

• Even if he's busy with another patient, he demands that you wait until he's done, regardless of what kind of injury you have

• As soon as you officially get together, he has you moving into his flat

• You WILL be sleeping in his bed every single night, no exceptions

• Don't even think of taking a nap on the couch, it's the bed or nothing

• And you eat that shit up

• Every time he orders you to do something, you have to stop yourself from jumping him right then and there

• Like he'll put a glass of water in front of you and coldly order you to "drink" and suddenly you're on your knees trying to get your fluids from somewhere else.

• You have male friends? Not anymore.

• If some of them suddenly vanished because of some dude named Dawnbreaker, that's not your business.

• The type to have you in bed and make you talk before pleasing you

• "Say my name"

• "Good girl, now say it again but louder"

• "Tell me you're mine"

Xavier:

• He's absolutely the stalker type

• Before you even officially met him, he was stalking you for at least a year.

• The area you used to live in had a high crime rate but you never met any trouble

• Wild, wonder why

• When you moved to a new apartment, he was your neighbor, what a coincidence and he started bonding with you like that,

• Whenever you needed anything or was having trouble with something, he would conveniently be there with a solution.

• You start to suspect the stalking and confront him

• When he confirms you literally just say "wow that's hot, please take me now"

• And that's how you got together

• From then on, he's just glued to your side no matter where you go

• You get a new job? Who's that fine piece of ass that's your coworker? Oh, hi Xavier.

• In bed, and I will continue saying this on main with no shame for xavier specifically, BREEDING KINK 🗣️🗣️🗣️

• He's going to fill you up whether you like it or not

• Spoiler alert: you like it

• "Just take it all my star, gonna make you give me a galaxy"

• "If I put a baby in you, then you really will have to stay with me forever"

Rafayel:

• THIS FUCKER IS MANIPULATIVE and NEEDY

• The moment he laid eyes on you, it was a wrap gg ez

• Like he deliberately will bump his car into yours at a stoplight, say it was your fault and demand your information

• Of course he's not going to make insurance claims or anything, he'll just buy you both a new car

• But now he has your number and you're never getting rid of him

• If he catches someone flirting with you, they'll suddenly find themselves without a job, homeless, in prison for 10 years for a crime he definitely committed and pinned it on them.

• And you're just here like, damn, you're so sexy when you ruin other people's lives🤪🥴🥵

• He said say less and proposed to you right then and there.

• How dare you not have your attention on him 25/8, do you even love him?

• Definitely needs affirmations every 0.3 seconds

• Also demands you prove your love to him. Like, if you love him, you'll pose nude in front of a whole class just so he can watch you squirm

• Spoiler alert: you're squirming because this arouses you

• LOVES marking you up and buying you revealing clothing to show his artwork off

• "They all need to know you're mine"

• "Don't cover that up. In fact, let me make it bigger, come here"

[tbyfandoms]

Just Breathe | Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: austin butler x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: when attending the premiere of 'Elvis', y/n suddenly suffers a panic attack. seeing his girlfriend in distress, austin's there to make sure she's okay and that she knows she's not alone (requested)

Warnings: depictions of anxiety and a panic attack

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: it's been so long since I've written an austin fic! it feels so good to be back writing for him, I missed it dearly. this request was really special to me because at times I deal with my own anxiety, and sometimes it feels like it's never ending. I worked in some thoughts and symptoms I deal with personally when having anxiety to make it more personable, so I hope that shows anyone else who struggles with anxiety or panic attacks that you're not alone. your anxiety doesn't define you and I promise it will get better! thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope you like it. as always, enjoy and lmk what you think! :)

You can feel the hum of the car beneath you as it coasts through the crowded streets of Los Angeles. Your boyfriend's hand rests softly on your upper thigh and you find yourself feeling more thankful for it than you ever have before. The weight of it essentially being your only grounding force right now.

It's not that you're petrified for what's to come, but you're also not the most relaxed at the thought of it. Tonight is the premiere for Austin's newest movie, Elvis, and to say you're starting to feel the pressure of it would be an understatement.

Sure, you've been to his premieres before. You two have been dating long enough to the point where red carpets are typically a breeze, and paparazzi are usually a forgotten thought as you get in and out of your car. But never have you been in a situation like this, one where instead of everyone's eyes being trained on a veteran star, they're going to be trained on him.

Words can't describe the insurmountable feeling of pride you have for him, but the way things have been changing so fast has your head constantly spinning. It's not your stardom to adjust to, but being Austin's girlfriend brings you at the forefront of it all, whether you want it to or not.

All day today you've tried to find some semblance of peace without having the blonde catch on to your emotions. The very last thing you want is to ruin his night or do something that would take any of the praise away from him. Austin's been waiting for a big break like this practically his whole life, and you'd be damned if you let your own anxiety get in the way of any of that.

So, as the car pulls up to the entrance of the theater—bright lights shining, red carpet laid out and all—you take a deep breath. Austin turns his head towards you and you do your best to put on the most genuine smile you can give him before smoothing out your dress and following him out of the car.

All at once you're met with sounds and sights from every angle. Adoring fans litter the sidewalks, photographers snap photo after photo, and fellow cast and crew spill out before you down the carpet. Screams pierce the air, Austin's name bouncing from left, to right, and back again as he flashes them that million dollar smile he has.

Your heart hammers in your chest over it all and you find yourself wondering what the expression on your face must look like right now. You're sure you'll be met with pictures of it in the morning, and the thought only slightly makes you cringe.

A warm hand wraps around your own and the contact has your head snapping towards the man beside you. Austin's blue eyes meet yours and you feel a bit of the chaos slip away as you melt into them.

"You ready for this, sweetheart?" he says with a smile, tilting his head down slightly to close a bit of distance between the two of you.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you chuckle. Austin does the same and you're grateful for the fact he's still oblivious to your nerves. It shows you're hiding them well. You don't want him to worry about you, and after all he's the star of this movie, not you. It shouldn't be that bad once you get through the photos and Austin finishes his interviews. You just have to get through the next thirty minutes and you'll be able to breathe again. Or so you hope.

Austin begins to lead you down the carpet and it takes all you've got to make your legs that feel like jello trail after him. Suddenly, your heels feel too tall and your dress too tight. It gives you the sense that at any moment you could trip and fall right over. Luckily, the actor comes to a stop and you revel in the way he loops his arm around your waist.

Camera flashes cloud your vision, shouts for Austin to look this way and that way get louder, and in no time it feels like you're surrounded. The blonde laughs beside you, bantering back and forth with the photographers as they send quick quips his way. He does it all with such ease. Austin's always been shy, but you believe he truly shines in situations like this, his personality far from hindered while under pressure. It makes you feel bad, feeling like this. Here he is having a good time and you're struggling to hold on.

Act natural, you urge yourself. Look at the cameras, smile. Look at Austin, smile. Be here, be present, don't let this moment consume you, but also don't let it pass you by.

"Austin, to your left!" A flash.

"Mr. Presley, look over here!" A laugh. Another flash.

""What a beautiful couple! Straight ahead!" A hitch in your breath. A squeeze in your chest. Multiple flashes.

You're fine. Austin's here, he won't let anything happen to you. Don't ruin this for him. Stop being irrational. You're having fun. Think of what this means to the both of you. What it means to him.

Smile, smile, smile—

"Y/N." Austin's voice sounds muffled. You look to your right and when he says it again, you feel like you're under water. One look at his face and you instantly can tell he knows. Of course he does. How silly of you to think he wouldn't notice. Austin knows you better than anyone, maybe even better than you know yourself.

There's a crinkle in his brow, a look of determination taking over his features. His hand brushes your back and suddenly you're moving, but if you're being honest you'd say it feels more like floating.

It's only when Austin takes you around a corner, the prying eyes of fans and photographers alike being cut off, do you realize multiple things are happening to you right now.

The first thing you notice is the way your hands are shaking in Austin's grip, then it's the short breaths slipping past your lips causing your chest to feel tight and your air supply to feel minuscule, and then finally it's the thrumming of your heart beat pounding so intensely you can practically see the rhythm in your wrists.

When Austin reaches up to cup your face in his hands, that's when you completely lose control. The area you're in feels smaller, the confused cheers of the crowd wondering where their star has gone echoes in your brain too loudly, your skin feels too hot and clammy.

This isn't right.

"What are you doing?" You ask your boyfriend as he begins to wipe away tears you hadn't realized had started falling. "You have to get back out there! They're waiting for you, this is your moment, they need you—!"

"Just breathe, baby." Austin coos softly, his baritone voice seeping into your mind and wrapping itself around you like it so often does. "Right now you need me, and that's all that matters. They can wait, it's just some pictures. You're my girl, and right now all I need to do is make sure you're okay."

Nodding your head, you tear your eyes away from the blonde, squeezing them shut tight as if it'll somehow make it all go away.

"Hey, hey, hey, focus on me. Look at me and focus on my voice. Remember how we practiced? Just breathe, in and out." Austin tilts your head back up towards his. His gaze both piercing, yet comforting as he takes in every inch of your face, trying to see where exactly you're at right now with your attack.

"Aus," you whisper, wanting so badly for everything to just stop. Someone new must've arrived to the carpet because another wave of deafening cheers fills your ears and the sound practically sends you spiraling all the way back down again.

Austin can physically feel you slipping away from him, your body shaking like a leaf and ice-cold to the touch. His heart aches at the sight and he quickly thinks of a tactic you and him have previously discussed to try and help you find your way back to him.

"Remember a couple weeks back when we were at home at you started to feel a little anxious? We tried that new method we read about and it helped your panic attack go away?" You nod your head, remembering exactly what he's talking about, even if everything's a little fuzzy right now. "Let's try it, okay? Tell me three things you can touch."

"Um—" your voice cracks a little, the anxiety causing your voice to shake and feel unsteady. You clear your throat and take a deep, shuttering breath before trying again. "I-I can feel your hands."

Your boyfriend squeezes your hands gently, lightly praising you while also giving you a slight push to continue. Letting go of one of his hands, you reach out and glide your fingers across the smooth fabric of Austin's suit. "I can feel the fabric of your jacket."

"Good, what's one more?" Lifting your eyes up, they land on Austin's face, and then suddenly your fingers follow suit, your trembling fingertips tracing over his cheekbone.

"I can feel your face." The actor smiles warmly at you as he leans into your touch, knowing how the warmth of his skin has always been a grounding feeling for you.

"Good job, baby. Now how about three things you can see?"

At first you're scared to look away from Austin. Scared that the minute your focus is shifted off him, you'll be right back at square one, but you muster up the courage to do so and spot your first item.

"I can see see that spare spotlight on the floor over there." Austin turns his head and he chuckles when he spots what you're talking about. He's impressed you were able to point out something random like that. He hopes this new method is actually working as well as he thinks it is. So far, so good. "I can also see those crew members at the other end of the carpet where we came in, and I can see part of the red carpet coming through the backdrop right there."

You point down at the sliver of red peeking through, and you surprise even yourself when you notice your hand isn't shaking quite as much as it was before.

"Good, that's good. I'm so proud of you, you got this. You're gonna be okay. I'm here, sweetheart." Austin opens his arms slightly, like he always does when he can tell your panic attack is settling. He gives you an in to let him wrap his arms around you, but also doesn't put any pressure on it, not wanting to make you feel suffocated or closed in.

Feeling a bit better, you accept his embrace wholeheartedly, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms right now. The minute Austin's arms close around you and you press your cheek into his chest, you feel a slight weight lift off of you. Your chest feels looser, and even though your breaths are still coming out a little bit clipped, you feel better than you have all day. Although you're able to calm yourself down if needed, nothing helps more than having Austin by your side during a terrifying moment like this. No one makes you feel safe more than he does, and the fact he handles it all with such grace and kindness makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

"Now I know this one might be a bit harder, and if it's too much for you that's okay we can skip it, but can you let me know three things you can hear?" Austin murmurs into the top of your head, the low note of his voice vibrating against your cheek through his chest. The soft rumble is comforting in a place full of chaotic ones.

You breathe in deeply, your boyfriend's cologne infiltrating your senses as you try to pick out specific noises amongst the crowd. A few moments pass, your heart rate picks up again as you start to think you won't be able to do this part, but then you hear it, a familiar laugh just barely breaking through a sea of cheers.

It's Baz Luhrmann's—the director of Elvis—and the sound causes a small smile to adorn your lips. "I can hear Baz laughing at something on the carpet. He must be joking with the photographers or whoever he's walking with."

"Hey, you're right. I can hear him too," Austin chuckles, remembering all the laughs he's shared with the very man in question. "He really is somethin', isn't he?"

"He sure is," you agree. It's silent between you two again, the blonde giving you a moment to hone in on something else. This time it comes to you a bit quicker, your senses no longer feeling so overwhelmed. "I can hear someone playing Hound Dog, it comes in and out, but it's there."

Austin strains his own ears over that one, trying to figure out where it's coming from. He looks up and the connection is immediately made. "Look at you! They must be playin' it in the theater 'cause if you look over, when someone opens the door you can hear it if you listen hard enough. Amazing job. Can I get one last thing you can hear?"

You can feel your boyfriend begin to trace soothing circles in your lower back, the action transporting you home instantly, more specifically to your couch in the living room. Many nights you'll find yourself curled up to Austin with your head on his chest, much like it is right now, and he'll trace circles in your back until you fall asleep.

Thinking back on those moments, you try to imagine as if you are actually there right now. You can feel the weight of you and Austin sinking into the couch, the warmth of both his arms around you and the fireplace you typically have going during cooler nights, and you can feel his chest beneath you rising and falling with every breath.

Then, without warning, you realize what it is that's playing a major part in making you feel so at home, so calm, so safe. It's a sound so unequivocally Austin.

His heartbeat.

It's there, thrumming beneath your ear, so soft and yet so powerful all at the same time. The rhythm is as calm and even as it is when you two are just laying on the couch. Austin has his own anxieties and nerves he deals with, but when it comes to you he never fails to be that soothing, collected man you fell for all that time ago. He's aware it's not his responsibility to help you with your challenges and be some strong person for you, and yet he does it anyways because he loves you dearly and never wants to see you go through things like this alone. Not while he's still here on this Earth. Not while it's still you for him as much as it's him for you.

"I can hear your heartbeat," you whisper so quietly you don't think Austin even heard it, but when you feel him sink into you just a little more and a soft hum travel through his chest, you know he did.

As you stand there wrapped in Austin's arms, your panic attack slowly melting away, you begin to reflect on what's just happened. You can't help the guilt you feel for taking away from Austin's big night, something you swore you wouldn't let happen. You hate the fact this happens more often than not, your anxiety taking over and bulldozing over even the best of times. Times where all you want is to feel excited and present, but your anxiety creeps up and leaves you feeling panicked and disoriented. It makes you feel like you're too much and not enough all at the same time.

Pulling away from your boyfriend's embrace, you look up at him and say, "I'm sorry."

"For what, sweetheart?" Austin looks confused, his brows pinched in concern over what it is you could possibly be apologizing for.

"For all of this. For taking away from your big night and letting my anxiety take over me again. You don't deserve to constantly have to talk me down or put your accomplishments on hold just to make sure I'm okay. I feel like a burden and It's not fair to you at all—"

"Stop, don't say that," Austin cuts your apology short, cupping your face in his hands and holding your gaze, wanting to make sure you take his words very seriously. "Never apologize for your anxiety. It's nothing to be sorry for. You can only control it so much, and I don't blame you for it, ever. You are the furthest thing from a burden to me and I want you to believe me when I say that. I love you no matter what and I'm eternally grateful I get to have you by my side during these moments in my life. If I have to miss a few minutes of it to make sure you're okay, then so be it. I wouldn't have it any other way."

This time when your eyes well with tears it's not because you're nervous or on the verge of an attack, it's because you're so full of love for the man before you, you're not quite sure how to handle it.

Letting out a breathy laugh, you reach up and try to wipe the tears away before leaning forward and catching Austin's lips in a kiss. One so gentle and full of all the words you can't quite seem to string together to tell him how grateful you are to have him in your life.

"I love you so much, Austin Butler," you say before wrapping your arms around the blonde's neck and hugging him tightly.

"I love you so much more, Y/N Y/L/N," he chuckles, squeezing you back just as tightly.

Cheers erupt beside you and suddenly you're brought back to reality. There's still a premiere to be had and a red carpet to be walked.

"You okay to keep going?" Austin asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The action has your cheeks warming and you lean slightly into his touch.

"Yeah, I am," you nod. Because despite the cheers and flashing lights that will resume following you down the carpet, this time you feel more confident and sure of yourself. The anxiety that was plaguing you from the moment you woke up at the hotel this morning has settled and you're going to revel in that for as long as you can. "Is my makeup okay?"

Austin laughs and you swear if you could you'd bottle up the sound and keep it forever. "I promise it is, you look beautiful, baby. As always."

You smile. Even if he was lying, Austin has a way of making you feel beautiful no matter what, so mascara smudges or not, you'll take his word for it. "Thank you, Aus. For everything."

Knowing you'll both figure out this new way of life together has you more at ease. Your anxiety is an uphill battle, but it's one you know you won't have to fight alone, and that is enough to help you keep going.

You want to be here for Austin and you want to enjoy the premiere of this movie he's poured his whole heart and soul into. The way his life has changed over the past several months is a positive thing, and it's not something you want to hide from or be scared of. He deserves this and you want to be there for him just as much as he's there for you.

So, when Austin holds out his hand to lead you back out onto the carpet, you take it wholeheartedly, ready to take on whatever comes next.

You know that if you need it, Austin will always be there to remind you to just breathe.