#[-*this is literally seven sentences and several are three words long*-]

[canonicallyobserving911]

Seven Several Sentences Sunday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 16 will be posted tomorrow.

Currently 15 chapters completed: 487.0K Words Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

My plan is to post Chapter 16 tomorrow after I finish editing and proofing it.

I'm excited to finish this chapter because there are so many things happening for Buck and Eddie and the Diaz Family. For anyone who hasn't read Chapter 15, here's a brief overview: Buck and Eddie got engaged and they spent the morning after they proposed discussing when and where they're going to get married. They'll tie the knot before Christmas 2023 but they aren't getting married in the U.S. and they won't have a wedding ceremony until May 2024. They think Chris is the only person who knows they're together but several people have witnessed their romantic and emotionally intimate moments including Bobby, Chimney and Athena.

Who else is going to realize they're together in Chapter 16?

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Here's some more Buck and Eddie romantic fluff from Chapter 16 as they discuss how being apart is filled with sorrow.

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After he breaks the kiss, his eyes fill with tears and in a voice full of emotion he says, “I’m going to miss you!”  He wasn’t expecting to cry this early in the morning but he doesn’t care because he means every word of the things he’s saying to his fiancé.

He inhales then he allows the words to escape his lips unbidden.  “I don’t want you to go because I always miss you when we’re apart.”  He leans his forehead against Buck’s and whispers, “I’ll be glad when we’re living under the same roof because I want you here with me all the time”.

When he leans back, he meets Buck’s eyes again and one of his tears escapes but Buck catches it and wipes it away with his thumb.

Buck’s breathless because he feels it too and even though they’re still standing right in front of each other with their arms wrapped around the other one’s waist, saying goodbye to the love of his life is always difficult and he dislikes it just as much as Eddie does.  He’s never known love like this and it literally takes his breath away every time he has to leave 4995 S. Bedford St.  It’s their home and all three of them will be living together after his move from the loft is complete in a few weeks.

He leans in and kisses Eddie again and he hopes the feeling of their lips being pressed together while their tongues become tangled in sweet bliss will last him until they see each other again in four days.

After he pulls back, he talks against Eddie’s lips.  “I miss you so much when we’re not together.  Friday is a long way off and I know we’ll talk on FaceTime but it’s not the same.”

“You’re right, it’s not because I can’t hold you in my arms, I can’t listen to your heartbeat and I...”

What is Eddie going to say next? 👀

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Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - Will be posted soon.

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Read chapters 1-15 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

Chapter 16 will be posted tomorrow.

[tc-doherty]

@outpost51

This is the info I had written up about Denki and the way it works :3

Denki is an SVO language. But where certain phrases go in a sentence are based on the importance of any given phrase. The "who" and "when" will generally always be the first two sections of the sentence and which one comes first just depends on which one needs the most emphasis.

Similarly descriptive phrases can either come before or after the thing that they're describing. If, for instance, you wanted to talk about the fact that your neighbor bought a new car which is black you would say "car black" but if you wanted to talk about how your neighbor has 10 cars and they got drunk and wrecked the black one then you would say "black car" because distinguishing which car is the important part.

There are no tenses, no plurals, no verb conjugation. But even with all of that Denki is considered a rather obnoxious language to learn for anybody who doesn't grow up speaking it and that's because of the pronouns (of which there are eight) and the modifiers (of which there are many).

There is no concept of gender or biological sex in Drezhein society or in Denki. There is one neutral "it" pronoun, and seven personal pronouns which are based on social status. There are, naturally, only seven statuses somebody can have so you pretty much know immediately where you stand when you hear someone talking about themselves. Social status is fairly fluid though so most individuals will switch pronouns several times throughout their lives and it's even possible for somebody to use all of them at different periods of time. Generally speaking people will only change pronouns to move to a higher status, but anything can happen.

These are the statuses/pronouns from highest to lowest rank:

Lord/lord, the head of a household. The leaders of the twelve most powerful households in Cylli are referred to as The Twelve Lords and they have their own pronoun.

Heir, inheritance always goes to a legally married spouse, never to a child. However, this particular position may be left open until a lord is middle-aged or older and they marry someone with the express purpose of them becoming the next head of household. They can also "promote” someone already in the family to this role.

Spouse, just refers to any legally married, long-term partner.

Concubine, someone who is in a temporary marriage to the house.

Guest, someone who joined a household as a companion to someone other than the lord. Generally either that's a sibling who came with someone who married the lord, or somebody who marries a spouse, concubine, or child of another household.

Child, anybody who hasn't left the house they were born into.

There is one modifier that exists to indicate plurals, specifically when you are talking about people, it's not used in any other context.

Then there are the object modifiers. This is a set of three words that have a positive, neutral, and negative connotation which can be attached to pronouns, names, or literally anything else. There are all kinds of ways that people use these in combination or solo form or reduplicated to indicate a wide variety of feelings.

But as I said these can also be applied to any other object or verb or thing. So if you want to talk about how your neighbor who you hate wore a blue dress to your party and they looked really good in it you can say "last night at my party my neighbor(-) wore(+) a blue dress". Or if you're more excitable and really hate your neighbor and are really mad that they looked good you could do something like this instead: "last night at my(+) party(=) my neighbor(-)(-) wore(+) a blue(+) dress(+)". Which would have the connotations that the party should have been fun but ended up not being fun because someone that you hate looked better than you.

Then there are tone modifiers because as a general rule there's actually not a ton of vocabulary so getting across different meanings from the same word needs a little extra help. So there are modifiers to make something sound more like a request, or more like a demand, or more flirtatious, or more like a joke, or more like you're relaying somebody else's feelings and not your own, or more comforting, or more like a threat LOL and these can go at the beginning of the sentence, at the end of the sentence, both, or just bracketing specific words or phrases.

Socially, while all Drezhein do use object and tone modifiers, excessive use of them does sound young or immature and it is something that youths tend to do… Or it's something that someone might deliberately do if they're acting cute in front of their partner or talking to their children. Or if someone is trying to be a kiss ass and make themselves look harmless in front of someone much more powerful it has some "I'm just a little guy" energy.

At the end of the day, Drezhein can have difficulty sounding polite or eloquent in other languages that have larger base vocabularies because they just aren't used to having that many word choices. And people from larger languages often find the flexible, constantly modified Drezhein language a pain in the ass. Drezhein also naturally have a problem of not using the correct gender pronouns in languages that have them, and frequently just refer to people by their job title or social status instead of their names or pronouns. When speaking other languages they tend to fall into two camps, either they are extremely brusque and aggressive sounding because they don't pad their speech at all or they tend to ramble and repeat themselves a lot trying to get their meaning across. As you can imagine older Drezhein or those with higher social status tend to do the former and younger Drezhein or those with lower social status tend to do the latter.

[galaxies-unknown-a]

[Drabble - Sleep]

This is literally seven sentences long and if you think it’s serious-

... It absolutely is.

“... I’ll sleep later.”

“Sleep- now. So you’re- well rested in the- morning.”

“Daaaaad! STOP BEING A BUZZKILL!!”

“Gotta agree with the kid, Sounders.”

Soundwave was now disappointed in both his partner, and his adopted car-child.

[im-juggling-fandoms]

She never learns, does she?

A Resident Evil fanfic of reader who is a former lover of Albert Wesker but is now on the run from him when she discovered his involvement in the Raccoon City incident. She is terrified of him and what he’s capable of and at the same time angry with herself for not being capable to suppress her feelings towards the man. She’s also determined that he is obsessed with her, it doesn’t matter where she hides, he always finds her and he just won’t stop. So far, reader has been lucky to get away just in time before his arrival. This time, she’s taken by surprise.

Rated mature. 18+ for language, deaths and sexual content.

Long time no see, dear heart..

It has been three years, four months and seven days since the last time Y/N felt herself at home. Now, the closest thing she got to feel like home was the people she surrendered herself with. The people who gave up their own lives to make sure of your safety. What would you have done without their sacrifices? You didn’t need much time to think over the possibilities. You knew you would’ve been dead.

You were a loose end that knew too damn much and Albert wouldn’t stop until he silenced you for good.

After all these years, it still hurt you. The two of you once shared everything together. Or so, you thought. One day you had stumbled upon his underground laboratory that had been hidden from your view for two years behind a massive mahogany bookcase. You found his research, you found an entire life he had been living in a city called Raccoon City not far from where you had built up your life. You found everything. It terrified you how gullible you had been about everything. You believed him when he said he was working at the bank downtown, why wouldn’t you?

It was all a lie. He had been creating horrific viruses and killing people to the left and right before he came home to your bed and ravished your body with his.

It made you sick.

But it made you hurt even more.

You kind of liked the little bed and breakfast you had been calling home for three days now who had an incredible view of the Swiss mountains from your room. It was peaceful and the landscape alone made you hope for a brighter future. Maybe you could finally settle down? It surely would help your mental state to have some peace and quiet. Well, it had been quiet for you and your friends for several weeks now and they told you over and over again not to let your guard down but you just couldn’t help yourself as you peeked over to your sleeping friends before you turned back to the window you where standing in front of. The sun made its way up over the mountains and it cast such a mesmerizing view over the little village. You knew you should be careful but you really wanted to go outside by yourself, if only for a few minutes.

You put your coat over your red nightgown and the silk was so smooth to your skin it almost felt like you were naked underneath.

Before you exited, you made sure to at least pack a gun into your hip holster. You hurried out, careful not to make any sound when closing the door behind you. There was a small hallway with a few rooms and a long stairwell leading down to the lobby. You walked with your hands in your pockets as you exited the B&B and felt the cool spring wind kiss your face. This, this was exactly what you had been needing, some peace and quiet.

You took a stroll around the village that began to wake up. You took in every smell, every sound.. it almost felt as you were vibrating.

Wait

You put your hand in your pocket and retrieved your phone who was buzzing like crazy.

Jeez.. you thought, you hadn’t been out more than maybe a little over ten minutes and Jessica was already buzzing up your phone.

Where the hell are you? Come back right now! You know we don’t go anywhere alone! She wrote.

Jesus Christ, Y/N! What are you thinking?! Jared wrote you.

You couldn’t help but feel ashamed and guilty. What where you thinking? These people had offered everything to go underground with you and yet, you jeopardize everything by taking a goddamned stroll..

You sighed loudly and turned your little stroll back to the B&B. As you walked hurriedly, you went over in your head the best way to explain to your friends why you went out but every outcome was the same. It made you sound stuck up and ungrateful. You decided it was for the best to just apologize and own your mistake. You told yourself that you would promise them to never do anything like this ever again and you meant it.

The lady at the front desk was sitting with her back towards you as you entered the lobby. You wondered if you should bid her good morning but she seemed devoured in that book of hers so you decided to just leave her be. You walked past her but something in the corner of your eye made you stop in your tracks immediately.

You turned your head slowly in her direction and what you feared the most, became reality.

She wasn’t devoured in a book as it first had seemed. She was lying with her face into the open book. The pages that once must’ve been white was colored red and she was as still as a statue.

You grabbed your gun from your holster and called out for your friends to come downstairs as you walked towards the dead woman.

It was as quiet as a graveyard.

Nothing.

A not in your stomach began to build and you abandoned the dead woman and bolted up the stairs as fast as you possibly could and kicked the door to your room open, only to reveal it abandoned.

You began to panic. Where the hell where your friends? It couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago they blew up your phone.

Maybe they got so worried that they decided to go out and look for you? Maybe they had found the woman at the front desk and was at the police station? You had to find them.

You walked down the stairs once again, this time the peace you earlier felt was long gone. When you rounded the crook of the stairwell you completely froze. This time, you literally could feel the ice slithering up your spine.

Albert sat down in one of the armchairs that faced the stairwell, his face were stoic and calm and he had one of his legs over the other which made him look like he was waiting for someone.

He’s waiting for you.

You knew that your gun couldn’t do him any harm. Jared had fired multiple shots at him three years ago during our time in Japan but Albert had dodged every single bullet like he was some kind of a super human. You where lucky you got out of there alive. That was the last time he got this close as he was now.

Your insides were in raging, burning agony. You were so terrified that you trembled but at the same time, your heart hurt with the memories of your love years ago.

“Long time, no see, dear heart.” He spoke and you had forgotten about what a velvety voice that man possessed. Every word rolled of his tongue with absolute expertise. You wouldn’t let him fog up your brain anymore so you stood tall, the gun in your hand pointed directly at his beautiful face even though you knew it was useless, you wouldn’t let him think you would give up so easily.

“Where are my friends, Albert?” You asked. Your hand which held the gun were shaking and you tried to steady it the best you could but to no avail. You were so scared and it was displayed openly for him to see.

Before you could even register that it had happened, Albert had got up from the armchair and made his way over to you. You have no idea how he did it but he had managed to do it in shorter than a second. Now, he stood towering before you, mere inches between the two of you. He was so close that you could inhale his scent. The scent that you had forgot made its way up your nostrils and an raging battle began taking form inside of you. A part of you wanted to run, as far away as you could from this monster of a man or whatever the hell he was and the other part wanted to forget everything that has happened over the years and pull him in for one of those kisses that made your mind all foggy.

You looked up at him hesitantly, his sunglasses was covering his eyes, covering those magical light greys you so well remembered. The eyes you spend so many nights gazing into while you were making sweet love to each other. You didn’t need to see them to have all of those memories pool into your mind immediately, his presence did it all.

He grabbed your wrist of the hand that held the gun and you tried to make him let go of you but he was so strong that it barely even phased him. Without any trouble on his behalf, he took the gun out of your trembling hand and tossed it carelessly to the side.

“Where are my friends?” You tried again, this time your voice broke mid-sentence and you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to break free and make you look even smaller than you already did.

“Three years, Y/N.” He began without any hint of emotions in his velvety voice, “You had me turning upside down on half the world for three years.” He finally stated.

“Just let them go, Albert, it’s me you want, isn’t it? They-“ you began sobbing, “They don’t know anything, I swear!” You exclaimed.

He pushed you up against the wall of the stairwell with his hands firmly on yours above your head. He leaned in closer to your tear filled face, so close that you felt his breath ghost over your skin ever so lightly.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying, they don’t know anything about-“ you began hysterically but was cut off as he pushed you deeper into the wall and it made your backside ache profusely.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He pronounced every word with spitting venom. Now, you could feel how angry he was with you. The stoicism from before was a good act, you thought.

“Please, don’t hurt them.” You begged. “Do whatever you want with me but please, just let them go. They won’t tell anyone anything, I am sure of it. I can make them promise to not say anything to anyone! Please!” You were desperate. Every passing minute could mean that your friends lives were closer to an end and you had to do everything you could to help them. Just as they had helped you.

He chuckled.

You looked up at him in confusion under your wet eyelashes, the tears blurring your vision ever so slightly.

“I am not interested in making conversation about your little friends.” He spoke up sternly before he lightened the hold he had on you. You were still pushed up against the wall but it hurt less than it did before.

“I just need to know they’re okay.” Your voice were merely above an whisper.

“They are, for now.” Albert confirmed. Jesus Christ, he was too damn close to you. You could see every little pore in his skin, his scent filled you up like a balloon that was going to pop any second. You knew that he was going to kill you and you felt nowhere near being ready to die but his mere presence awoke something inside of you. The thing that you had been trying to bury deep, deep within. The undeniably eternal love you felt for him with the strength of a thousand elephants. It was blind and it was more forgiving than it was wise. It was so intense it made your skin burn and your insides too, you felt like a hot burning mess. It almost felt unnatural. Mainly because of what it did to you. You had never felt this with anyone else, not ever. It felt like you belonged together. You still knew better, though. Hence why you left and had been on the run for years.

You felt weak and tired. All of this, all of these years had made you so tired. You just wanted it to stop. You were done. There was no use to try and fight him, he was way too strong now. It’ll only make you end up dying in more pain than necessary and you felt obligated to save yourself from that.

“Just get it over with. For old time’s sake, make it quick.” You said, your voice was on the verge of a new wave of tears but you managed to keep them at bay.

His hands let go off yours and you felt his body leave yours, the warmth disappearing by the second. You closed your eyes, ready for the fatal strike.

It never came.

You held your eyes closed for what felt like minutes but nothing happened.

You battle with yourself if you would dare to open them and see what was going on and after a while, you decided that you had to.

He was just standing there, a feet or so from you, with his back against you. His gloved hands were clasped neatly behind his straight back and it appeared as if he was in deep thought. You could tell that, even with his back to you. It was your bond that told you.

Should you try to run?

No.

You wouldn’t get far and you were so tired of this cat and mouse bullshit.

You just wanted it to end.

“Albert, please..” you softly spoke, almost begging him to put you out of your misery.

“You never learn, do you?” He said as he turned to you.

Your confused expression spoke for you and he smirked hastily.

“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here after all this time.”

You felt weak, confused and at the same time irritated. It felt as if you were back at square one. You had been running for your life only because you sincerely thought that he wanted to end it. All of the ruckus he had been making hadn’t exactly told you otherwise but it was true now when you actually thought about it, you had never once been harmed under these 3 years. All of your friends had been but never you.

“What do you want, Albert?”

“Isn’t it perfectly clear what I want, Y/N?”

You gave him a sour look. It really wasn’t. With all the information you now had on him, you had come to learn that he wasn’t that quiet but passionate lover you once thought you were dealing with. You’ve come to know that he was a sociopath and was capable to do about anything to preserve his goal which seemed to be collecting viruses from around the globe. You didn’t want to know what he was planning to do with them.

“Dear heart,” he began, that smirk upon his face for a few seconds before he continued, “I want what’s mine. I want you.”

If you thought you were confused before, it was nothing compared to what was going on inside your head right now.

“But you, you almost-You sent fucking mercenaries after us! You bombed one of the houses we were inside of, we just barely got out in time!” You fumed, your hand gesturing angrily with every word.

“You left without a word, Y/N, it made me very angry.”

“Oh, it made you angry?” You spat at him, every fear and tremble as blown away. “It made me angry when I found out you were a fucking liar! And not to mention a full blown psychopath!”

He briskly walked over to you and grabbed you by the shoulders roughly.

“You watch that tongue with me, Y/N, before I change my mind.”

“I’m done with these games, Albert! I’m done! Just get it over with, I can’t bear another second with this.” You said, refusing to face him. His face made you want to jump him right here right now. Your hormones were going crazy and you were equally angry as you were a hot, horny mess. The last time you orgasmed by another hand than yours was with Albert. You still remember it as if it was yesterday..

You had been slow cooking some fancy meat on the stove and had some baked potatoes filled with cheese and paprika in the oven. You were working on a side salad when he entered the kitchen freshly showered in nothing but a towel around his waist. He began kissing your neck and one thing led to another and before you knew it, you were sprawled out on one of the counters with his head between your legs, his tongue skillfully massaging your little bundle of nerves while two of his fingers were massaging the inside of your pussy and it didn’t take long before you clenched down on his fingers with a loud moan.

You needed to get your head straight. You couldn’t be thinking about things like that right now. You could literally feel the wetness pouring out of you.

“Hmm...” he hummed with a smirk. You couldn’t see his eyes but you felt how intense they were ravaging you right now.

“I can smell you.” He said, that damn smirk still plastered on his beautiful features. “You are aching for me Y/N, aren’t you?”

“No,” you said hastily, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, yes you are.” Albert took one of his gloved hands to his face and removed the glove with his pearly white teeth. His naked hand snaked between your exposed legs and traveled up to your clothed pussy. You should slap him right across the face for taking such freedom to touch you like this and yet, you couldn’t do anything. You just stood there, looking up into his face, as if to get some reassuring that this wasn’t as wrong as it actually was.

He didn’t waste any time, he ripped the cloth from your skin with a growl. It probably would’ve stung your sensitive skin if it wasn’t for your arousal. You were dripping and you were desperately longing for the man that you deep down knew was the love of your life.

You grabbed his face with your soft hands and you tried to pull him into a kiss but he wouldn’t succumb to your wishes. He simply undid his belt, opened his trousers and pulled them down to his knees to reveal that he was already hard. You mouth watered and your pussy ached painfully at the sight of his cock. The same exact cock that you had been fantasizing about every time you pleased yourself nowadays.

Albert pushed you once again against the wall of the stairwell but this time he lifted you up as well with his hands at your hips. He didn’t leave you any time to comprehend a single thing, he buried himself to the hilt into your tight, wet cave with a deep, deep groan. It sounded as he had been holding that inside of him for a very long time. You, on the other hand moaned out loudly for everyone to hear as the two of you finally were connected as one.

You had almost forgotten about how good he actually was in bed but all of that came right back to you as he demonstrated his skills by pounding into you evenly, he squeezed your soft hips with every movement.

You clawed desperately at the fabric on his chest as he pounded roughly into you. You didn’t mind him being a little rough, it were a long time since you last made love and if he was anywhere close to as desperate and aroused as you were, he probably couldn’t contain himself.

“Oh, Albert..” you moaned as a wave of pure pleasure washed over you, “I’ve missed you so much.” You confessed openly.

He didn’t answer.

Sure, he was a man of few words but he would always praise you and shower you with affection while making love, now he was all quiet except a grunt here and there.

It was extremely hard for you to get anything from his eyes since those sunglasses covered them and left you to look at your own reflection instead. You had no idea what he felt right now and it made you wary.

You reached for his glasses and removed them as best as you could while he was pounding into you tirelessly. What met you behind those glasses was nothing you were prepared for.

His light grey eyes were a distant memory and now replaced with the eyes of a demon. Red swam around tight slits and you almost didn’t believe what you were seeing. This wasn’t the Albert you remembered.

He was angry. So, so angry. You could feel it vibrating from his furious eyes.

You should be frightened, you should’ve ran away from him but something inside of you made you remain in place with nothing but shame for what you had done to the man you loved.

You had hurt him. You had most likely broken his heart by leaving him without so much as a letter. You had done this to him, you thought.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You said, tears forming in your eyes as you leaned your forehead against his.

“You are mine.” He growled back,

“Yes.” You nodded in agreement.

“You will never betray me ever again.” Behind his anger you could detect the pain, the pain that you were responsible for.

“Never, baby, never. I’ve been so foolish.”

He slowed down his ministrations and captured your lips with his, the kiss became desperate very quickly, both of your tongues massaging each other in your mouths. You tugged at the locks at the back of his neck as you moaned into the kiss, giving yourself over to him completely.

You were still kissing passionately as he fucked you, and you knew that if he kept moving his hips like that together with his hot, wet mouth, you weren’t going to last very long.

You knew that he also knew.

Your legs began to shake from the intense, burning pleasure between your legs, your nails found his neck where you scratched helplessly as moan after moan escaped your lips.

Albert kissed your face and then went over to your neck affectionely, humming while doing so. Never breaking the rhythm in his thrusts.

“I’m-, I’m so close..” your voice were raspy and low, “Oh god, Albert..”

“That’s it, my sweet” he huskily whispered in your ear before he kissed the curve of your ear, “Come for me..”

You did so, your legs shaking with the same intensity as your screams that left your lips as you rode out the exquisite orgasm eagerly. Every fiber of your body felt as if it was on fire and you couldn’t do anything besides moaning and holding him tightly to you, afraid that he might disappear if you didn’t.

The orgasm left you weak to the bones but Albert didn’t let you rest. He withdrew himself from inside you and lead you upstairs, into the first room that was in sight.

Albert undressed the rest of your clothing and laid you down on the bed softly and positioned himself between your legs, this time with his face.

The first contact with his lips and tongue to your pussy made you moan out with eyes closed, your fingers finding their way down your stomach and onto his blonde locks.

This was one of the best things you know and you’ve been longing for it for three years, it didn’t matter that you had just had an orgasm minutes ago, because when he began using his fingers on you and sucking your clit between his delicate lips, you came undone for the second time today.

He kissed your thighs feathery light and traveled up your now naked body. He kissed and licked every inch of skin on your torso, your breasts he sucked and licked softly, which earned him a moan from you.

He crawled on top of you and spread your legs a little wider for the comfort of both of you. You wasn’t satisfied just yet, though.

“Please, remove your clothes.” You said, looking deeply into his red swirls. “I want to feel you on my skin. I’ve longed so for you, my love.”

He hesitated for a moment but complied to your request and removed his clothes in a blur, it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he was in between your legs again, now in his full naked glory.

You trailed your hands down his hard chest and down his hard washboard abs. You sighed deeply in fulfillment when he entered you once again.

He held you possessively by the neck as he was thrusting into you, his face mere inches from yours as your eyes were locked in each other’s gazes. You had your arms around his back, because you wanted to get as close to him as you possibly could.

You shared a few kisses as the love making grew hotter and closer to the edge for the both of you. It gave you such immense pleasure to see his own pleasure in those eyes of his. You wanted him to feel good, to unwrap himself completely inside of you.

The connection the two of you shared only made the sex even better, more intense than any sex you’ve ever had with anyone else. You didn’t only shared each other’s bodies but each other’s minds and souls as well. He didn’t need to tell you that he loved you, you could feel it with every kiss, every thrust, every single touch he laid upon you. It was magical and brought you straight over the edge for the third time, you were a moaning mess and you chanted over and over again how much you loved him. It didn’t take long after your release for him to find his own. With a deep grunt he filled you up right to the hilt but he remained inside of you just for a little longer.

You shared each other’s lips, and you caressed each other’s faces softly, lovingly.

“If you ever do something like this again, I’m going to have to kill you, Y/N.” He spoke softly but gravely.

“I know.” You responded as you kissed him on his forehead.

You knew that he wouldn’t forgive you a second time. You still had some questions you wanted answers to but you had already decided to stop fighting him. You loved each other, deeply and eternally. That’s all that matters to you. At least for now.

[uncpanda]

Gone: Part 2

AN: The long awaited sequel. This is probably going to end up being five parts or around there? 

Part 1

You can feel his eyes on you, and it irks you that you’re only mildly annoyed by it. Still, you continue moving about the room until you’ve finished the task at hand. Maybe if you ignore him long enough, he’ll go away? When you finally turn around, five minutes, later he’s still there. That figures, The Bat had the patience of a saint when it came to getting what he wanted. 

“Why don’t you take a picture Bruce? It will last longer?” 

He doesn’t react, he just leans against the door frame. You want to chastise him for it. He’s wearing a suit that costs thousands of dollars, and that door frame. . . well it probably hasn’t been cleaned in years, “Take a picture Bruce, it will last longer.” 

His voice is unsrpriginly even, “Don’t need to. I have plenty of pictures. The one of us in high school, our first date, wrapped up in each other on the couch, me proposing, and I have a ton from our wedding day. I don’t however, have one of you working in a school, or living in a small town. Or one of you figuring out how to stay off my radar for six years.” The last one is said with a growl, but you can hear the hurt behind the words. 

You lean back against your desk, “I know you Bruce. I know how you work. Hell, I helped create your system. It wasn’t hard for me to avoid it.” 

“And you had Alfred on your side. That was the key, wasn’t it.” 

You don’t hesitate, “Yes.” 

There’s several minutes of silence before he says, “It’s time to come home.” 

“I am home.” 

“I mean home, home. It’s been nine years.” 

You throw a stress ball at his head, and you nearly let out a screech when he catches it, “I know how long it’s been Bruce.” You have a literal, walking, talking reminder. 

He moves into the room, his hulking frame taking up more space than you would prefer, but you stand your ground until he’s only a few feet away, “You’re in danger.” 

“I am not. No one knows about me Bruce. No one knew about me when we were married. I was the high school friend of yours who people pretended didn’t exist. We never announced our marriage, we just eloped. Hell, that party . . .” 

You don’t finish that sentence, that party is what led to this. It was supposed to have been your debut as Mrs. Wayne, but the pregnancy had kept the two of you from ever going in. No one knew. You were sure to the media, you were just another no named woman who disappeared after a few weeks. The fact that you had been by Bruce’s side from the time you were seven to twenty three, meant nothing. 

 You cross your arms, and glance at the clock, you only have half an hour before you need to pick her up. You focus on that clock and say, “You need to leave Bruce.” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at him to find a puzzled look on his face. This time your temper gets the better of you, “What?” 

“You never took off your wedding ring.” 

Automatically your thumb grazes against the band . . .fuck. 

“It kept unwanted attention off me.” 

“Liar.” Your heart nearly stops at the word, and a strangled little sound escapes your throat. He moves in closer, “You scuffed the ground with the toe or your shoe, when you said it. It’s your tell.” You know that, he’s pointed out before, and you’d nearly broken that habit when you left, but you’d had no reason to keep up with it in this sleepy little town. 

He stops just a breath away from you, and ever so hesitantly his hand stretches out, and you feel him cup your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed, “Did you miss me Y/N?” 

Your breath gets trapped in your lungs, and then his breath is fanning your ear, “Breathe sweetheart. Breathe.” 

You suck in a breath, and you can feel your knees go weak. You push your arms out in front of you, so that you can stop him from moving any closer, because Bruce is the flame, and you’re the fuel. One wrong move, and you’re back there. You’re back with him, and your entire life is ruled by the Bat’s schedule and his no nonsense attitude. And that would be fine if it was just you . . .but it isn’t just you. And that’s the hardest thing, because you still love the prick . . . you never stopped.  

“No.” The word is strangled, and you can feel the tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “No, Bruce. We . . . we want different things.” 

His voice is a whisper, “You don’t know that. It’s been nearly ten years.” 

“I know you Bruce . . .” 

“Maybe things have changed.” You can just feel his lips ghosting over yours . . . when something settles on your stomach. Your eyes flash open and you stare down at eyes identical to yours. It’s one of the few things the two of you share looks wise. Jo smiles at you, “Morning mama.” 

“Morning baby girl.” Unlike most nine year olds she doesn’t protest the nickname. 

“You were dreaming again.” 

You play with the ends of her hair, your arm resting against her back, “Was I?” 

“Mhmm. You said dad’s name again.” 

You wince at that, “He’s been on my mind a lot lately.” 

She sits up as you do, “You could call him?” 

You don’t verify that answer, “What time is it?” 

“A little after four?” 

You blanch at the idea of being up at four, but that means nothing to Jo, she’s always needed very little sleep. Even as a baby, she had barely slept more than two hours at a time. The exhaustion had nearly killed you, and you had cursed Bruce’s existence for a good year; he had always been the same way. In fact your daughter gets a lot from your husband . . . who isn’t really your husband; her early to rise mentality, her IQ, her inquisitiveness, the way she wrinkles her nose when faced with  food she doesn’t like. 

You stroke her face and she dives at you for a cuddle. You kiss the top of her head and you snuggle in. You’ll be back to sleep in a matter of minutes, but you know she wont. Instead she’ll just choose to stay in your arms, and you’re grateful that she inherited that characteristic from you: the ability to stay. 

You manage to avoid dreams of Bruce for several days. You push him to the back of your mind and you focus on your life. 

Your days proceed like usual for the most part; you drop Jo off at school, and head to the office and you keep your head down. You focus on the tasks at hand instead of the office gossip, and you keep to yourself for the most part. You’re friendly enough, but it’s safer this way. There’s very little chance at being caught in someone’s selfie, and an even smaller chance at being forced to talk about your past. 

On Thursday, you’re halfway through lunch when one of your coworkers. . . Lynne, sticks her head into your office. She’s all grins, and curiosity, and you wonder what the biggest gossip in town needs from you, “You have a delivery.” 

You don’t look up from your book, “I didn’t order anything.” 

“They’re the prettiest flowers; looks like a bunch of wildflowers with some daffodils and roses thrown in.” 

You freeze, because that was the bouquet you had carried into the justice of the peace’s office when you had married Bruce. You push back from the desk and march out to the front. There’s a gaggle of women around it, but the card on top is untouched. You pluck it from the arrangement, and then shove the flowers into the trash. 

You return to your office without a word. With shaking hands, you open the card and read the rhyme there, “Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head.” 

Your breath leaves your body in a woosh. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that rhyme, not since right after the death of Bruce’s parents, when he had been certain it was the Court who had killed them. You take out your phone and dial the one saved number. 

Alfred picks up after the first ring. It’s outside of your weekly update, he knows that means something is wrong. “Mrs. Wayne?” 

The use of your married name still throws you, but you don’t question it from Alfred, not after ten years. “Alfred. I think I’m in trouble. Someone found me. I just got a flower arrangement, the same flowers I carried when I married Bruce, and the card attached had the rhyme about the Court of Owls.” 

There’s silence on the line before he says, “I’ll be right there.” And your stomach drops because you know this means you’re finally going home.

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[ateezmakemeweep]

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything. 

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical. 

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts. 

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had. 

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal. 

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring. 

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this. 

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months. 

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this. 

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic. 

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet. 

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe. 

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that. 

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.   

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week. 

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car. 

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment. 

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two. 

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry. 

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong. 

but there’s a lot wrong. 

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it. 

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life. 

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours. 

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you. 

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own. 

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence. 

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee. 

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner. 

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be. 

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard. 

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted. 

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching. 

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe. 

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making  this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him? 

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be. 

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name. 

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state. 

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning. 

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time. 

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off. 

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room. 

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them. 

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks  at you questioningly. 

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you. 

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him. 

not even with a plate of fucking cookies. 

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content. 

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here. 

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much. 

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you. 

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you. 

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up. 

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you. 

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining. 

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night. 

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been. 

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out. 

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder. 

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep. 

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face. 

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest. 

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him. 

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap. 

“did you eat yet?” 

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you. 

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care. 

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you. 

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better. 

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover. 

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night. 

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together. 

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case. 

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you? 

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.” 

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again. 

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod. 

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you? 

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?” 

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed. 

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence. 

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied. 

more so than usual. 

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe. 

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it. 

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long. 

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside. 

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days. 

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously. 

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-” 

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth. 

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did. 

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that. 

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances. 

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this. 

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly. 

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately. 

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with. 

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe. 

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial. 

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger. 

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee. 

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies. 

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth. 

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy. 

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times. 

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table. 

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys. 

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now. 

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?” 

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months. 

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work. 

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together. 

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him. 

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay. 

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie. 

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes. 

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook. 

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset. 

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making. 

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom. 

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get. 

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class. 

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?” 

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop. 

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you. 

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much. 

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough. 

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously. 

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days. 

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him. 

and now he seems to know it, too. 

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next. 

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls. 

“have i been annoying?” 

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks. 

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind. 

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what. 

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you. 

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde. 

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise. 

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot. 

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough. 

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days. 

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you. 

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again. 

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life. 

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of. 

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance. 

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back. 

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement. 

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school. 

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?” 

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education. 

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time. 

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?” 

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers). 

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing. 

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle. 

“what are you crying about?” 

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat. 

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.” 

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college. 

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible. 

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form. 

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school. 

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery? 

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval. 

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly. 

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face. 

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm. 

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy. 

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad. 

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod. 

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out. 

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...” 

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter. 

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.” 

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised. 

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all). 

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on. 

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously. 

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him. 

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else. 

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?” 

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest. 

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair. 

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care. 

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end. 

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look. 

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing. 

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you. 

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault. 

and with you, he was always even more clouded. 

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe. 

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face. 

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure. 

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over. 

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips. 

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach. 

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“hi, baby. i’m back.” 

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words. 

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence. 

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another. 

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return. 

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you. 

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.” 

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence. 

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out. 

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy  will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time. 

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?” 

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder. 

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much. 

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them. 

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out. 

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch. 

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands. 

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body. 

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap. 

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face. 

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?” 

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight. 

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” 

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it. 

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you. 

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere. 

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble. 

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him. 

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head. 

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious. 

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you. 

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad. 

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time. 

“i-i know...” 

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet. 

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again. 

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life. 

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately. 

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience. 

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore. 

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less. 

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up. 

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade. 

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first. 

but he loves being here and that’s the problem. 

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe. 

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him. 

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it. 

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him. 

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively. 

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?” 

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house. 

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured. 

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.” 

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty. 

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you. 

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again. 

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything. 

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with. 

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?” 

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you. 

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset. 

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel. 

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through. 

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through. 

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7. 

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes). 

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san. 

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived. 

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck. 

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face. 

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours. 

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more. 

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.” 

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him. 

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door. 

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich​ @minbinwhore​ @chrryhwa​ @chogiout​ @marksflvr​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​

[moon-kn1ght]

toes in the water

pairing: frankie morales x reader

word count: 2k 

warnings: kindergarten should def be a warning, maybe also incredibly unvaried sentence structure? rated E for everyone :)

a/n: this is going to be a small series surrounding a single father frankie morales and reader who is a kindergarten teacher. semi-slow burning, super cute and will def have storage closet / after-hours classroom sex at some point. thank you @wyn-dixie for the beta and for quelling my anxieties about literally everything. 

masterlist || tag form

Were you supposed to be using the kindergarten enrollment forms to sus out potential cute, single parents? No, definitely not. 

But the process of going through the individual forms and comparing them to the database for possible clerical errors was tedious at best, and grueling at its worst. Sitting on those tiny kindergarten chairs, you and the other four members of your team of teachers had already rehashed all of the gossip from the summer, including how Jessica the first year teacher from the 3rd grade cohort had hooked up with that sleazy geometry teacher from the high school at the end of the year district-wide social last May. 

“God, I remember when he was student teaching at the middle school,” Dora, your most senior coworker who had ‘been around the block a few times’ and also held onto every piece of gossip that circulated in your district for the last 17 years, drawled, “He had the grossest little rat mustache, you could hardly tell him apart from the 8th graders!” 

The group laughs in response to that joke, always ready to make of the holier-than-thou high school teachers. “You know what?” Dora adds, “You’d think after so many years, I’d be used to these tiny fucking chairs, but I am not. I need a walk and a Diet Coke.” 

“I’ll join you!” chimed Joanne, the second-oldest teacher in your cohort. The two leaders of your team left the room, leaving you, Claudia, and Andrés, the youngest teachers in the kindergarten cohort. Andrés and you had gone through your credential program together and had known each other for upwards of five years now as best friends. When the two of you arrived at Franklin Elementary, fresh out of school, Claudia had just completed her first year so she welcomed more young teachers with open arms. The three of you have been inseparable for the past several years now. 

“Okay, pull out your stacks!” Andrés orders, citing your group’s earlier plan to use this menial labor to check for potential single parents. You were just looking on the forms to see who did not have both parents listed. It wasn’t a perfect system. And yeah, it was probably inappropriate but y’all were just messing around and killing time on this sweltering August day. 

“I have one in my class!” you offer. “Student: Grace Miller. Parent: Susan Miller. Occupation: Landscape architect.” 

“Oooo, intriguing. Love someone who works with their hands,” Claudia remarks in a silly, sultry voice. “I have one, the student is named Peter, mom is Karen. She’s an accountant.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that. Karen? Yeah no thank you. Glad she’s in your class, not mine.” Andrés laughs and you join him. Kindergarten was just as much of a transition for students as it was for parents, and sometimes they took it harder than the kids. “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t live up to her name...” he continues, “Ooh, I have one! He's single dad--” 

Oooh, you and Claudia purr.

“Rosalia Morales is the daughter of single dad Francisco; form says he's a small business owner,” Andrés presents this crown jewel piece of information to a round of applause from you and Claudia. 

“Ugh, let’s hope he’s cute!” Claudia adds and the three of you dissolve into giggles as the older women  return from their Diet Coke run. 

—X—

Rosalia Morales was ready for kindergarten. Frankie Morales, on the other hand, was not. 

The younger Morales had spent the first weeks of August carefully preparing for this new (and very important) chapter in her life. She carefully deliberated over decisions like what backpack and lunchbox to get from Target (she chose a matching Sofia the First set, so that it could be a topic of conversation for her and her potential new friends at school) to what she was instructing her father to pack in her lunchbox (no PB&J’s in case her new friends were allergic, she wanted to be able to sit at the same lunch table with them and not have these seminal weeks defined by the separation of Peanut vs Peanut free lunches). Rosalia was very meticulous, and she always had been. She was well-prepared to face all the challenges kindergarten wanted to throw at her. 

While Rosalia had spent weeks preparing, Frankie had spent weeks dreading the imminent separation from his favorite person in the universe. Yes, he had sent Rosalia to preschool and pre-K but those had all been half-day programs. He would drop her off on his way to work and then pick her up at lunchtime. That only meant four hours apart but full-day Kindergarten was drop-off at 7:45am and pick up at 3:30pm. Seven and a half hours. How am I going to do it? he thought to himself. 

—X—

At Franklin, they implemented a very specific first day schedule. Parents walked their kids to their classrooms to hang up their bags, then the students got to go play on the playground while the parents left. The older teachers designed this system to reinforce to the students that school = fun. Yes, of course there were always students who had a rougher first day, but it usually took a couple of hours for the fatigue to set in before the students realized how long the day (and year was going to be). 

This system most importantly allowed for a clean break with the parents, a solid ‘goodbye!’ point that the teachers could enforce. But, always, there were some straggler parents (either loitering inside, near the front door or in their cars in the parking lot). The administrative team would let the indoor stragglers know that it was time to leave, but they would have two of the teachers go into the parking lot to make sure all the parents had cleared out. 

This year, you and Claudia had pulled those short straws, so while the rest of your team monitored the early recess, you two roamed the parking lot with reassuring waves and “I’m sorry, it’s district policy, you have to leave the parking lot after drop off.” Everyone usually took it graciously—it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it’s better to just get it done. 

You had almost cleared the lot of loitering vehicles when you came upon an older, red truck with a man inside it. His window was down so you began to speak to him a little before he noticed you, causing him to jump. 

“Hi, I'm one of the teachers in the Kindergarten cohort," you say as you run your bare left hand through your hair. “Are you a parent?” 

As he turns to look at you, you can notice that even with his cap pulled low, he has definitely been crying a little. “Hey, yes sorry. I’m Frankie Morales, Rosalia’s dad,” the man stammers, “I’m sorry, I know the policy, I think I’m just having a little bit of separation anxiety.” HIs brown eyes look a little bloodshot as he gives you a half-hearted smile. 

You search his face and see no traces of dishonesty, this is just a man very nervous to be sending his kid to school. And a cute one at that too. Claudia called it, you think. 

Before you can let your mind wander too far about this stranger, you have to say something. “Mr. Morales...” you start. 

“Please call me Frankie. Mr. Morales is my dad,” he interjects nervously.         

“Okay, Frankie,” you say. “I understand how nerve-wracking sending your kid to school can be. I may not be a parent myself, but I can empathize. But I can also offer to you that in my years in kindergarten, I’ve never seen a student not adjust to the classroom,” you offer. 

“But I also understand that our anxieties can be irrational and don’t like when presented with things that might undermine them. So it’s okay to still be nervous or anxious right now,” you add. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to help you feel better about leaving school property in the next ten minutes or so?” you smile a little to help this last bit come off as nice as possible. 

“I…” he mumbles, “I… I’m not sure, my parental intuition is telling me that something will happen in the middle of the day and it’ll take me too long to get here, which I know isn’t going to happen but… I’m worried that I won’t be able to be enough for her”  

“You worry because you care, and I can already tell that you care about her a lot. Hey, like I said, our worries don’t have to be rational to get at us.”

“She’s just all I have, she’s the center of my universe,” he adds. With this, you can see the shift in his eyes, from worry to love. You can tell that he loves his daughter with his whole heart. 

“Rosalia is in Andrés', I mean, Mr. Gonzales’s class, right?” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

“I think I might have a solution, a little band-aid just for today,” you bid and Frankie looks hopeful. “This is very much against district policy so you have to promise not to tell on me.”  

He laughs with this, and promises not to tell. “How about I give you my phone number, and any time that your fatherly intuition is telling you that something bad is going to happen, you can text me and then I’ll peek across the hall to Rosalia’s classroom, and I can factually assure you that nothing bad is happening?” 

Frankie actually smiles, for the first time in this whole conversation, “That would be great,” he says.

—X—

As you knew would happen, the day passed without incident. Frankie didn’t even text you, which you felt good about. But also a little sad because you wanted to start a little texting thing with this single dad. But you knew it would be a little inappropriate, in your heart of hearts. 

After all the students get picked up, Claudia and Andrés migrate into your classroom. 

“Don’t you think the first day of school calls for a celebratory drink out this afternoon?” Andrés probes. He always was down for happy hour (and to be truthful, you were too). “We should go to the brewery down the road, they have some nice outdoor seating.” 

“I’m in,” you state, “And I may or may not have some other good news..” you tease. 

“What? What good news could have happened in a room full of 6 year-olds?” Claudia jokes. 

“Y’all can’t tell anyone but I got the phone number of that single dad from Andrés’s class,” you say as quickly as you can. 

Claudia and Andrés both break into shrieks with this news. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe our prowling on the enrollment forms WORKED!!” Andrés exclaims. 

“He was nervous at drop off so I gave him my number but he didn’t end up texting me, so nothing will probably ever come of it. But still, small win in my book.” 

Claudia throws her head back, “You deserve all the wins you get, whatever happens, we’re psyched for you.” 

Later, during happy hour you check your phone and notice a new text from an unsaved number. 

Hey, thanks for your help this morning, having this line of communication made me feel a lot better. Rosalia had a great day today. -Frankie 

You try to keep your facial expressions minimal as you read the message. They don’t need to know about this, you think to yourself before shooting back a quick message. 

That makes me so happy Frankie. Feel free to reach out whenever you need! About whatever :) 

You add that last line hastily and hit send. I can thank this liquid courage for that, you think as you down the rest of your pint. 

TAG LIST: @wyn-dixie | @empress-palpat1ne | @marvelousmermaid | @knivesareout | @sleep-tight1 | @justanotherblonde23​ | 

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit. 
 Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.  

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.  

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”  

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.  

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”  

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |

[weed-cat]

IF YOU THINK THAT IT'S ACCEPTABLE TO MAKE FUN OF STUTTERS IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, GET AWAY FROM MY BLOG. THIS INCLUDES ASSUMING THAT SOMEONE IS INCOMPETENT, UN/ILL INFORMED, UNTRUTHFUL, OR DISTRACTED IF THEY STAMMER OR PAUSE UNEXPECTEDLY.

You want to know what it might mean when you hear someone stutter? Okay. I'll tell you. I've had a clinical stutter since learned how to talk. It's a diagnosed speech impediment. I went through almost seven years of speech therapy to try to treat it. I was bullied for years because of it, and still experience microaggressions and unwarrented/rude questions/comments on a regular basis. I speak from my own experience.

There are three types of stutter; repetition, block, and elongation. I have experienced all three, but mostly repetition and block. Would you like to know what the experience is like?

Repetitions are involuntarily. Trying to stop them is like trying to stop choking using pure willpower. You literally cannot make your body stop repeating the phoneme until it wants to. Sometimes you can simply stop talking all together, and either try to restart the word and or find a different one to replace it. But sometimes you can't even do that. Usually happens with glottal stops (((phonemes that involve restricting airflow via the glottis in order to be complete, ie. sounds that you can't make indefinitely. Some glottal stops that are present in the English language are the hard and soft K and T. Notice how you can't drag these out for longer than the split-second that it takes to make them.)) Repetitions are the most people think of when they hear the word 'stutter.'

Blocks are when your vocal system decides that it's just not going to produce a certain phoneme, or it's going to make you wait a while before it does. Usually you can still breathe or even make other sounds, but trying to say what you want literally feels like there's a cork in the back of your throat that's keeping you from expelling the air necessary to produce the vibrations and/or oral friction(s) that compose speech. Sometimes you can't even breathe.

Elongations are when non-glottal phonemes get involuntarily dragged out for longer than they should. Your body won't move on to the next sound until it's through with this one. Sometimes it's just a few seconds, sometimes for multiple full breaths. I've even had ones that have lasted until I had to give up and choose a new word. Sometimes they come with involuntarily physical reactions, like your eyes rolling up or moving your head or tensing.

People with true stutters suffer from loss of control over their own bodies. You probably take for granted the freedom to physically speak without even thinking about it. Even people with other speech impediments can't fully empathize with the experience, although they have their own struggles. Stutters have an ebb and flow, both long term and short-term. For me, I've gone years where it's mild and I can speak mostly free of disfluencies, even to the point where I've thought that it was going away entirely. But I've also gone years where I find myself stuttering at least once with almost every sentence I speak. Even within those periods, there are days, hours, that buck the trend.

It's true that stress and intense emotion can increase the frequency and severity of stutters. But do you know what else can make them worse? Reading out loud. Planning or internally/externally rehearsing exactly what you're going to say. Thinking about it. Having a large number of people listening to you. Talking to new people. Talking on the phone or video chatting. Repeating something you previously said. Emotional/mental/physical exhaustion.

And sometimes? Even if none of those apply? It just happens.

Stutters aren't curable, and avoidance/ treatment strategies are rarely, rarely successful 100% of the time. For some people, they don't work at all.

Studies show that up to 80% of children who stutter ((adolescents and adults very rarely develop stutters)) outgrow it within 2 years of first appearance or before puberty. But for those of us who find it persistent beyond the age of twelve or so, it will almost certainly be a lifelong condition.

If you choose to ignore or overlook the fact that stammers or abrupt vocal pauses or 'unnecessary' prolonged words are sometimes results of an actual disability, fuck you. If you use stutters as any sort of 'proof' of insincerity or incompetence, fuck you. If you make fun of someone for stuttering, even if you KNOW that it's not disordered, fuck you. It's already hard enough for us to accept ourselves and our voices and to get through interactions with others without being unfairly judged. You are making the choice to be ableist and to make life more unpleasant for us.

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter six: You literally have to be fucking with me

Summary: Y/n and Tendou are deeply in love. Living on the other side of Tokyo now, the Monsters are still up to their old shit. They even opened a few businesses for Tax reasons. Even though it’s been almost three years later, Y/n still has never been able to understand how they have avoided the law several times. When Tendou’s Mother reappears in his life, Y/n is confused as Tendou claimed she is dead. Finding out Tendou is being forced to take over the family business by his Mother, she soon learns the truth behind Tendou’s reason he never gets in legal trouble is his family business. His mother is quick to decline Y/n as his future wife and tries to set up Tendou with someone she sees more fit. What will happen to Y/n and Tendou? What will happen to Tendou’s “family business”? What does this mean for the future of the Monsters?

TW: Swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of stabbing, blood, stiches, death 

AN: SORRY THIS IS SO LATEJIDFBVHKBS I WAS SHOWING MY FRIEND DEATHNOTE NVNJDFK

______________________________________________________________ Third Person Pov - Tuesday Night 

Tendou sat at the table beside Y/n anxiously. She noticed the way he shook his leg against hers. 

“Satori… What’s going on? I have never seen you this way before?” 

“I don’t… I am just… very nervous, the person you will meet is someone to m-” Before he could finish his sentence the front doorbell rang. He shot up from his seat and rushed over to the door. He ripped it open to see his mother in front of him. He rolled his eyes. 

“Well hello to you too Tori.” She said with a laugh. He did not say anything back, only pointed her to the dinning room where y/n sat at the table. 

Y/n stood up extending her arm to the woman now in front of her. 

“Hello I am Tendou’s Fiancé, Y/n.” She said politely. 

“Hello I am Tendou’s mother, Kohaku.” 

“I’m sorry, did you say his mother?” 

“Yes I did. This one isn’t too smart now is she, Tori?” She said as she sat down in Tendou’s seat. 

“Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute Satori?” Y/n said, the anger was seeping out into each word. He nodded and followed her in the kitchen. 

Y/n looked out to see the woman just sitting at the table as she was on her phone. 

“What in the absolute fuck is going on here Satori?” She asked, angry. 

“Well, you see my mom’s not dead, and that woman at the table happens to be her.” 

“You literally have to be fucking with me.” 

“I wish I was Y/n. She is the one I am inheriting the business from.” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Holy fuck.” She said as she grabbed the counter for support. 

“So not only is she alive but a fucking Yakuza boss???” Y/n asked. 

“Yes.” 

“If I didn’t love you so much I would probably kill you right here.” She said.

“I'm sure the other Monsters would have a problem with that.” Tendou said with a smirk. Y/n laughed at his comment. 

“They can literally eat my ass.” 

“Don’t tell Matsukawa or he might be down. He has seen us have sex three times now.” 

“After your mother leaves, don’t tell them.” 

“Oo? Is this a rough sex on the table kinda night.” Y/n got noticeably flustered as she swat at him. 

“Shut up! Let’s just fucking go back and get this fucking meal over with.” Y/n said before she walked away. 

“Sorry about that, just had an urgent personal matter to discuss.” Y/n said as she sat down at the table. 

“Tori tends to tell people I am dead, but I never expected you to act like such a bitch about it.” Tendou’s mother said so casually. 

Before anyone could say anything else, the food was brought out by some cooks Tendou hired for the night. 

“So Tori, since I am here now, let’s talk business after our meal, in private.”  She said the last part as she shot eye daggers at Y/n. 

“Can’t we just fucking talk over our meal?” He asked. 

“No, you are going to be running shit now so it’s fucking different. Don’t try to act tough to me for your… whatever she is.” She said as she gestured to Y/n. 

“I literally have done nothing and you chose to come in her like some entitled bitch.” Y/n whispered under her breath. 

“I’d watch that tongue if you want to keep it.” Kohaku snapped at Y/n. 

After the meal was finished, Tendou and his mother headed up to his office.

 “Why are you being such a cunt to my fiancé?” He asked as soon as the door slammed shut. 

“Well if you had better taste in women we wouldn’t have an issue, now would we?”

“You can fuck right off. You can fuck with me, you can fuck with my friends, but if you fuck with her, I will be the one to kill you.” He said as he moved right into her face. She pulled back away from him and said; 

“You will have to get in line, the other rogue half has been causing us hell for some time now. After finding out who’s mother I was. I guess a couple of your old classmates are around that part of town now.” 

“Like I give a fuck.” He snapped. 

“You will once they come for what will hurt you the most.” She said.

“The fuck do you mean?” 

“I have seen the way you are around your monsters, I have seen the way you treat me, and I have seen the way you treat Y/n. You have a soft spot so you better fucking fix that, or I will do it for you.” 

“Like fuck you will you dumb bitch!” He shouted as he slammed his hands down on his desk. 

“So which ones of your gang are in?” 

“All of them.” 

“Really? That one guy, well I must say he seems pretty suspicious. I would watch your back if I was you.” She said back to him. 

“None of my friends would betray me, ever.” 

“You think what you want Tori. When the truth comes out, I hope you are prepared to shoot.” She stood up as she approached the office door. 

“I will text you tomorrow with more details about shit when you want to show your boss some respect.” 

“Fuck you.” He said as she left. He stood up and slammed his hands down on the desk. “FUCK!” he screamed out. 

The sound of the door slamming into the downstairs wall alerted him as he got up to see what was happening. He noticed Kenma being carried in by Terushima and Hanamaki. Y/n was rushing them into the dining room as she pushed all the plates off, shattering them. She rushed off to grab something in the distance. They placed kenma down as Shirabu came rushing in with Suna holding first aid kits. 

“What the fuck happened?” He then noticed the red stain on the side of Kenma’s shirt. 

“We were out at the bar and this guy came up, addressed us as the monsters and started a fist fight. We thought we all had someone distracted but one snuck in and stabbed Kenma at the table.” Terushima said. “Mattsun and Mad are still back there I think.” 

Tendou looked around as he noticed everyone had fresh blood splattered on them, even Shirabu. Y/n came rushing back in as she placed a pile of towels on the table. She walked over to Tendou as he pulled her into his chest. 

“Will he be okay?” Y/n asked. 

“Yeah, I may not have been in medical school long, but enough to know this guy sucked at stabbing. A few stitches and he will be as good as new.” Shirabu said. 

“Who the fuck were they?” Tendou asked. 

“We think some fucks from a gang or something trying to get street credit.” Just as Shirabu was finished stitching up Kenma. Kyotani and Maytsukawa walked in. 

“Is he fucking okay?” Kyotani barked up. 

“He is now Mad.” Terushima said.  

“Shit look at you too.” Y/n said as the two were dripped blood on the floor. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not ours.” Matsukawa said with his sadistic smirk. 

“We got you a fucking present in our trunk.” Kyotani said. Kyotani, Tendou, Matsukawa and Y/n walked outside knowing Kenma is going to be okay. 

Matsukawa popped the trunk, there sat a man who was bloody and beat. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Tendou asked. 

“The fuck that stabbed Kenma.” Matsukawa said. 

“And the rest?” 

“Four out of seven fucks escaped .” Kyotani said. 

“And the last two?” Y/n asked. 

“Dead.” Said matsukawa with his sadistic smirk again as he grabbed his bloody bat from the back seat and swung it up on his shoulder. 

_____________________________________________________________

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[nicco-needs-love]

Oh boy. I did it. I wrote this damn thing. It's kinda long (5k) so I'm splitting it into three parts because that's how I wrote this fic. The full thing will be up on ao3 tomorrow because it's 6am :,) my ao3 is HoliGAY if you wanna see the whole thing because I'm gonna edit it and make it look pretty on there! :,,)))

TW//quick desc of gore, and romanticizing of marriage! The gore isn't in this chapter so no worries! I would say this chapter would be rated G!

This is only chapter one! I'm gonna post the other's tomorrow! Sorry for any errors! I didn't read it over!

(1/3) White Proposal

"Is it normal? Y'know… To fall in love with one of our Eves?"

"Do you really think that's a good question to ask me?! Hell, I've fallen in love with every damn one of them!"

Ildio shrugs, realizing that asking Hyde was not the smartest idea.

"Well? There's a reason you asked that. Catching feelings for your Eve?"

"Yeah, I wanna propose."

Hyde inhales his water, coughing everywhere; caught very off guard at Ildio's sentence. 

"Huh?!"

"It isn't that strange. Mother married one of her old eves. Double Doubt and his eve are engaged. You and yours?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's normal for us to fall for our eves! You, however, haven't done that once!"

"Well… Nicco's different."

Ildio looks away, thinking about the long haired guy he'd hopelessly fallen for. Ildio isn't sure about even asking Niccolò to marry him. They're dating, been dating for a few years. It's just there has never been a good instance of Servamps marrying their Eves. It's just a sad thing to think about. Servamps are immortal, they'll never die. Their Eves aren't. Ildio was never close to any of his previous Eves, he was one of the very few Servamps who has never fallen in love. Of course, that was until he met Niccolò. It was a curse until Ildio eventually gave up fighting off those butterflies he'd get when Nicco would smile. 

"Uh-huh… Okay. Do you actually wanna do it? Propose I mean. Think about it, would it work?  Sometimes I wanna propose to Licht but there's so many reasons I can't. Our schedules, his job, he's popular with "everyone" so I can't imagine the problems he would get if people found out he was married. Hell,I'm not sure Licht would even say yes."

"I'm just thinking about it, if I was gonna do it, it wouldn't be extravagant, we wouldn't even have to wear rings."

"Then what's the point? Could be the romanticism in me but, that's such a beautiful thing about marriage. Wearing rings? It's so romantic, the glimmer of each other's face reflecting on their wedding rings! Being able to see your love in a metal band on someone's finger is just a beautiful thing! I've been married a few times and wedding days are some of the best days of my life."

Ildio sighs, definitely regretting his decision of talking to Hyde about this. He definitely should have talked to Kuro instead, none of the theatrics or excessive romantic details. Honestly any of his siblings would have been better to talk to about this; except for Hugh. Hugh has always been against Servamps falling in love. Especially ever since the incident with Hyde many centuries ago. Then Jeje's past with the Alicen family. There have been many, many times Servamps have fallen in love. Every time they had talked about those things to Hugh, there would be a very long conversation about the problems with a romance like that. That's one of the reasons that Ildio has always been weary of the idea of love. In fact, he thought he would never fall for anyone. All his previous Eves were asses who would break Ildio's rules almost immediately. Yet again, Niccolò changed his mind on that.

"I'm gonna go, Law. I'm gonna think more about it."

"Mkay! Invite me to the wedding! I wanna see it!"

Ildio laughs aloud once, closing the door behind him. 

The thing is, Ildio already bought a ring for the proposal. It was an impulse buy, he was shopping for snacks and a bright ring caught his eye in a window. The ring is one of a kind, a gorgeous onyx black band, with a shining silver inlay. Apparently there was a second ring similar to that one, however it sold a while ago. Ildio knew immediately the ring would fit Nicco. Don't ask how he would know that, many hours watching Niccolò's hands move would certainly not be Ildio's answer. The ring, inside a white velvet box, feels heavy inside his pocket. He could propose, just give Nicco the ring and walk away. Although he knows there's no way he could do that. After all, the worst thing Niccolò could say is no, right?

"He's been gone for hours… Not so far that the distance effect would take in, but far enough that I can't find him."

Niccolò sighs, sinking down against the vinyl chair he's sitting in. A few hours ago, Ildio told him to meet him at this diner. Nicco didn't expect to be waiting for hours. It's not like he has anything to do today anyway. Besides the piles of phone calls he has to make with other bosses of families because there have been many issues in the workplace. Nicco puts his head down on the table, considering giving Ildio a call. Not because he's impatient, but starting to get worried.

"Hey, Nicco."

Niccolò opens his eyes and looks up, seeing Ildio. Nicco isn't sure when he took a nap, but he certainly did. Ildio looks nervous? Niccolò isn't sure why he would be, but he sits up, tapping the spot next to him on the seat for Ildio to sit down. 

"Hey… Sorry I fell asleep, I meant to call but, I fell asleep…"

Ildio doesn't say anything, just nods. It isn't rare for Ildio to not say anything. However, it is rare for Ildio to look this nervous. Or nervous at all. Nicco notices Ildio has his hand inside his jacket pocket, it looks like he's fidgeting with something? Or, it could just be Niccolò projecting. You see, something has been weighing on his mind for months; marriage. Niccolò knows that's the very last thing he should be thinking about. First of all, he's a mafia boss with many people who rely and count on him, he still has to prove he can be just as good as his father one day. Secondly, he would be married to a vampire, a Servamp. If Niccolò proposed, would Ildio even have a choice to say no? If that's the case, Nicco would never want to propose. Still, he bought a ring, specifically for Ildio. He was just window shopping for rings when he saw it. The ring is a shining silver that shines beautifully in the sun. Inside the ring is a deep black inlay, the ring is gorgeous. He sighed a sigh of relief looking closely at the ring, he knew it would fit Ildio perfectly.  Niccolò being the hopeless romantic he is, he got an engraving into the ring's inlay. 'Mio dio'. Translating to 'My God' in italian. It's a very cheesy thing that Niccolò thinks about a lot, he thinks of Ildio as his God. 

Nicco can't help but idly roll the black velvet box between his fingers. He bought the ring about two weeks ago, he's been thinking about the moment over and over. The imaginary proposal in his head. Niccolò honestly is far too shy to do something so forward. It's completely different to hold hands or soft kisses, this is marriage. 

"S-so uh...Why were you out for so long, Il? I was getting worried…"

"Just thinkin' about stuff."

Silence. Niccolò shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not too sure what to say. Ildio is thinking the exact same, he isn't sure which way to go about this.

"So uh-"

They both start talking at the same time. Meeting each other's eyes, Niccolò looks down first, a blush dusting his face. Ildio obviously takes notice of this, realizing that Nicco is more nervous than usual; which is hard to be. 

Ildio stands up, grabbing Nicco's hand and taking him out of the diner. In the corner of his eye, he can see many of the Carpe Diem members giving him a look of suspicion. 

Outside the diner, around seven feet away from the entrance, Ildio can't stop fiddling with the box in his pocket. Nicco isn't touching the box in his pocket, however, it feels like one-hundred tons weighing in on him.

Ildio inhales, getting a grip on the wedding ring. He's doing it; he's going to ask Niccolò to marry him.

Looking at Ildio, Nicco can see a look of determination? Seeing that makes Nicco want to propose. He reaches within his coat pocket, grabbing the white box.

"Niccolò."

Nicco stops in his tracks, the severe tone in Ildio's voice making him stop. Has he done something wrong? Does Ildio suddenly just want to turn their relationship into business only? Does he want to leave the business and have nothing to do with Nicco anymore? His hands turn clammy, swallowing down a lump of anxiety. 

"Y-yes?"

"I uh… Listen, augh- dammit."

Ildio's stuttering just makes Niccolò feel much more nervous. Thousands of different things race through Nicco's head. Thousands of negative things. He tries to brace himself for whatever words Ildio is going to say. Unfortunately, Nicco knows that if Ildio says anything negative, it will most likely break him.

"...I wanna marry you."

Ildio pulls out the white velvet box, opening it up to show the ring to Nicco. Part of him doesn't want to see Niccolò's reaction. He doesn't want him to say yes because Ildio doesn't want to get any closer to this anomaly. He also doesn't want Nicco to say no, because honestly… Ildio wants to marry Nicco. If Ildio's being completely honest with himself, he's hopelessly in love with the man before him.

Nicco gasps, audibly gasps, a… a proposal? He can't believe his eyes. The ring is absolutely stunning, it looks uncannily similar to the ring that Nicco bought for Ildio. He looks up to meet Ildio's eyes from the ring; it feels like hundreds of butterflies fly from his heart. Ildio's eyes are warm, soft. The breath leaves Nicco in a rush. Niccolò is sure Ildio is a literal god, not a vampire. 

"I- the funny thing is…uh…"

Niccolò pulls the open black velvet box from his coat, showing the ring to Ildio. Nicco turns his head away from Ildio, not wanting to see his expression.

Ildio blinks a few times, looking at the gorgeous ring in Nicco's hands. He can tell immediately that it's the opposite version of the ring he purchased a few nights ago. Looking closer, Ildio can see some italian engraved into the ring. Since Niccolò knows italian, Ildio was able to know it immediately when they made their contract. "Mio Dio". It's a term that Nicco would use very affectionately towards Ildio. A term that Ildio doesn't agree with, but hearing those words from Nicco is, ironically, heavenly. 

"Jesus Nicco… This is beautiful. So, I'm guessing it's a yes?"

Niccolò laughs, nodding. He pulls the ring out of it's black box, gently sliding it onto Ildio's finger. Ildio mimics the action, both of them wearing the ring the other chose.

Ildio grabs Niccolò's tie, tugging him into a gentle, loving kiss.

[mlm-writer]

Sleep Aid (Taeyong x GN!Reader)

Kinktober Day 13: Phone Sex

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1244 Summary: Your boyfriend is a hot mess, when he is on tour without you. Note: Reminder that drunk people cannot consent to anything!  Tags: Established relationship, Taeyong is a bit of a horn dog here, he is cute when he’s drunk tho, phone sex, masturbation and you’re a loud bitch

‘Stop, baby don’t stop…’ You groaned at the voice of your boyfriend filled your bedroom, your phone’s ringtone way too loud. Without looking at it, you decline the call, not caring what time it was. ‘Stop, ba…’ You were faster this time. ‘Stop, baby…’ You let out a frustrated groan and blindly picked it up. 

“What the fuck do you want?” You barked into the phone, unknowing of anything, but that you were woken up by something other than your alarm. 

“Baby, darling”, a voice you could recognise at any time mused over the phone. 

“Babe? What’s up?” You took a glance at the screen that was too bright. “You know it is three in the morning for me right? Time Zones and all.”

“I don’t care about time zones. I miss you,” he whined and you just knew he was drunk. “I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep, ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about my baby.” He ended his sentence with a little aegyo that made you giggle, even though you wanted to murder him for waking you up.

“You’re jerking off, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

You chuckled, pitying yourself just a little. “Call me when you’re sober, dumbo.”

“Talk dirty to me.”

“I am hanging up now.”

“No do…” 

You turned your phone off. You would have happily gotten off on the phone, but Taeyong was drunk. It just didn’t feel right. You slept the rest of the night well… and that morning too. You woke to light entering the bedroom, immediately going into panic mode. With your phone turned off, there was no alarm waking you for work. It was eleven in the morning and you weren’t able to turn your phone on until you sat in the metro to work. When you turned it on, you had several missed calls from your boyfriend, but those from your boss were the perfect distraction for those. You called her, apologising profusely as she yelled at you through the phone. 

You spent the whole day working extra hard to make it up to her. You even worked a few extra hours. By the time you were home, you had shoved a rice ball into your mouth on the way for dinner, so you could fall face first onto your bed. ‘Stop, baby do…’ You picked up without looking, worrying it was your boss. “Yes ma’am,” you spoke, back into full anxiety mode. 

“Ma’am?” You sighed in relief. 

“Taeyong-ah,” you whined in reply, “I am so tired. I accidentally slept in…” Then you remembered. “Because of you! Do you have any idea how late I was to work because of you!” If he were here you would’ve wrestled him on the bed. Now you couldn’t do that; it just made you miss him more. 

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have called you… or drank that much.” You felt sorry for him too and sighed. You kicked your pants off, planning on lying in bed without a shower. 

“No, I’m sorry for snapping at you just now. Sorry, it was just a stressful day. To be honest, you were really cute when you called. Horny too, but mostly cute.”

“Well now I am mostly horny.”

You laughed, one hand reaching down to palm yourself through your underwear. “We should really have phone sex, but right now I am really too exhausted to talk dirty.” You heard your boyfriend chuckle, the sound warming your heart, pulling it from loneliness. 

“Then don’t talk. Just listen to me.”

“Oh?”

“Is that a yes?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I am getting undressed right now,” you told him, before frantically getting the rest of your clothes off. Taeyong chuckled over the phone and you loved the sound of it. Within seconds you were butt-naked on the bed, your hands wandering near your crotch, just teasing yourself for now. 

“Are you comfortable, baby?” You hummed, putting your phone on speaker and putting it next to your head. “Good.” Taeyong let out a long sigh. “Next time I am on tour, you should go with me. I see all these dark corners backstage and every time I think about you on your knees sucking me off in the dark, where the crew could run into us.” Your boyfriend moaned and you heard the wet glide of his hand over his cock. “I’m so hard, thinking about it.”

You rubbed your own arousal, being more vocal than you usually would to encourage your boyfriend to talk more .”Fuck you sound so beautiful. Is it hot to think about sucking my cock backstage?” You let out a small, confirming moan. “Yesterday we were at a very fancy stadium and they all gave us individual dressing rooms. If you were there, I would’ve bent you over the couch, so you could see the two of us through the mirrors, while I fucked you.” 

You were leaking from his words and covered a finger with it, before shoving that finger inside yourself. You let out a yelp at the intrusion, finger not wet enough but the rawness of it felt so good. “Fuck you just put a finger inside yourself, didn’t you?” You wiggled the finger inside you, letting out a moan that told Taeyong enough. “Fuck you did… Do you have that dildo close by?” You looked around, eyes landing on the drawer across the room, where you kept your toys. 

“Other side of the room, not worth it,” you whined, pulling your finger out and spitting on it, before putting it back inside. You were still rubbing yourself with the other hand. 

“When I’m back, I want to spend a whole day in bed with you, baby. I may cum now, but it is not as satisfying as filling you up with my cum.” Taeyong let out a guttural moan. “When you ride my dick, I could literally cum all day baby. I want you to walk around filled with my cum.”

“I’m close,” you moaned, one finger still inside you and the other ferociously rubbing yourself. 

“Not yet baby, I’m going to countdown from 10. I want you to cum with me on one, understood?” You whined, making him let out a dark chuckle. “Ten...” Taeyong let out a mixture between sigh and a moan. “Nine...” You wanted him to hurry up, but his moaning was the hottest thing you ever heard. “Eight...” You pleaded, the knot in your lower stomach tightening. “Seven...” There was so much pleasure, but you slowed down your movements, trying to hold on just a little longer. “Six, damn baby the neighbours will hear your moans.” You couldn’t reply, mind too focused on keeping yourself from coming while balancing on the edge.

 “Five… Fuck, so good.” You could hear the wet sounds from his lubed cock, reminding you of what it sounds like when he pounds your dripping hole. “Four…” You thrashed on the bed, having a hard time keeping yourself from having your orgasm too early. “Three…” You moaned louder, as did he. “Two…” So close. So close. “One.” You screamed as your whole body tensed. Your back arched as you came hard, the moans of your boyfriend in your ear, even though he was not there. 

You lied there for a while, swimming in post-orgasmic bliss and hearing your boyfriend’s breathing calming down with yours. “Fuck that was good,” you sighed, smiling, “I’m gonna fall asleep. I’m so tired.” 

Taeyong chuckled. “Don’t forget your alarm.”

[annab-recs]

Can’t Be Trusted - JJ Maybank

Kooks have never really trusted pogues, but you have gained the trust of some as you babysit and dogsit for them. After inviting JJ over as you are dogsitting, a necklace goes missing and who else would have taken it other than the infamous kleptomaniac, right?

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 2.9k+

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

"I think someone's mom is home!" You shout from the back door. After playing little game of hide and seek, Austin and Ava wanted to play in their treehouse, so you went inside and chilled out until their two-year-old sister, Aubrey, woke up.

"Okay! We will be out in a minute!" Ava shouted to you as she poked her head out the treehouse window. You rolled your eyes playfully before returning to Aubrey who was still a little groggy from her nap. All she wanted to do was lay in your arms and watch Trolls.

"How were they today, y/n?" Sadie asked you when she walked into her home.

"Absolute angels as always. This one is a little sleepy from her nap, but she just needs cuddles and she'll be fine. The other two are in the treehouse," you tell her as you walk over to where she was standing by the kitchen counter. Aubrey makes grabby hands at her mother and you lean forward to hand her off.

"Hey, I meant to ask you this when you were here last week but how would you feel about dog sitting?" You shot her a weird look as she did not have any dogs, but nodded, nonetheless.

"My sister, Savannah, has three dogs and she and her husband are going on vacation for a week. She just needs someone to let the dogs out and feed them and stuff. I told her about you because you are so great with the kids and I knew that if I can trust you with them, she can trust you with her dogs," Sadie finished.

It was nice to hear a kook say something so kind about a pogue. The adults don't seem to have as big of a problem with pogues as the teenagers do. You were happy to hear that she trusted you so much with her children because you love her kids so much and would do anything for them.

"You can tell her I'm interested," you tell Sadie and she nods.

"Okay, I'll send her your number. Thanks again y/n," she spoke as she handed you some money for your service and you walked out after hugging each of the kids goodbye. 

...

"Okay, so that's all that you really need to know. You can stay here if you want so that you don't have to travel back and forth across the island. Let me show you the guest room." You follow Savannah through her house and to the guest room.

"You can invite your friends like Kiara or Sarah to stay with you, so you aren't too lonely. You can literally do whatever as long as you clean up after yourself, but I know I don't have to worry about anything with you. Sadie talks very highly of you." You blush at the comment and send her a smile. "Do you have any questions?"

"No ma'am. I think I got it all." She smiles at you as Bo, her golden retriever, licks up your leg. The two of you chuckle as you head back to the kitchen.

"Okay well here's the key and the code for the alarm system is 1742. I'll turn it on when we leave and when you get here, just turn it off and then turn it back on at night. Once again, thank you so much for doing this. I could not find anyone and the girl who normally keeps the dogs is going to be gone as well."

"No problem, Mrs. Savannah. I'm extremely excited to get to be with these pups all week next week," you say as you ruffle your hand through Bo’s fur. Her other two dogs, Bleu and Bailey, have been chilling but Bo has been following you everywhere. You said your goodbyes before heading over to The Wreck where your friends were.

"Hello everyone," you announce your presence as your friends greet you. You take the only empty seat at the table that sits between JJ and Pope and sneakily snag a fry from JJ's plate.

"Hey!" He shouts and attempts to grab the fry back, but it is already in your mouth. A giggle escapes your lips as he pouts about his stolen food.

"You owed me that one after all the food I share with you. At least, I have Pope. You'll share your fries with me, won't you buddy?" Pope grins at you before nodding.

"Of course." He slides his basket of fries closer to you and you gladly take one before Kie offers to get you some. You decline, saying you just wanted to tease JJ to which he frowns before ruffling with your hair playfully. After you fix your hair, the pogues ask you about your day.

"I was actually at Savannah's house, Sarah." She shot you a confused look before telling you to continue. Savannah and Sadie are cousins with Ward, so they are related to the Cameron’s. That's how Sarah knows her.

"I thought you babysit for Sadie," she wonders, and you nod.

"I do but Sadie recommended me to Savannah as a dog sitter, so I'm going to be staying there next week while they're on vacation."

"You're basically a kook now, y/n," JJ jokes as you roll your eyes at him.

"No, but I'll be living in the house of one for a week. I'm a full-on pogue right here and you know it." You say as you point to your heart. You had too many responsibilities to look after and pay for to be a kook. You have to help out your dad with money because your mom left you two when you were seven. Things would be a million times better if you were actually a kook but living like one for a little bit would be nice.

...

It was not long before you were living that dream. Savannah left a few days ago and you have been waking up to Bo’s adorable face next to you every morning. As you watched the dogs run around in the backyard, you decided to invite a friend over. You were getting kinda lonely and Savannah said you could invite someone like Kie or Sarah, so you shot Kie a text first.

Y/n: what are you doing tonight? I'm kinda lonely and wanna sleepover with my girl

Kie: my dad has me working all night and then Sarah and I are going to the mainland early in the morning

Y/n: okay I'll ask one of the guys, thanks though

You can't ask John B because you don't want Sarah to get the wrong impression and Pope has work early in the morning with his dad, so your only option is JJ. There is nothing wrong with JJ. You love him to death, but he tends to slip things away without anyone noticing. You want to make a good first impression so that Savannah will want to use you again in the future. You let out a sigh before calling JJ.

"Hello?" His voice sounded through your ears.

"Hey, are you gonna be busy tonight?"

"No, what's up?" He asks as he makes sure to pop the 'p' at the end of his sentence.

"Well, I'm kinda lonely and Savannah said I could invite a friend to stay with me, so I was wondering if you wanted to." You were kind of nervous he would say no but he didn't.

"Yeah sure. I'll be over at like seven and I can bring a pizza."

"Ooo, sounds good. I'll see you then," you said as you salivated at the sound of pizza. You two ended the phone call and went on about your days until he came over. You showed him around the house and introduced him to Bo, Bleu, and Bailey. You made sure to keep a close eye on him the whole night to make sure he didn't snag anything without you knowing.

"Okay I'm stuffed," you announce as you set you unfinished pizza slice down.

"Well, I'm not so..." he trailed off as he grabbed your slice and finished it. You playfully rolled your eyes as you hopped off the barstool and threw the pizza box in the trash. As he finishes, you let the dogs out one last time for the night before bringing them back in, locking the door, and turning on the alarm.

...

After a while, the two of you both get showered and ready for bed. JJ takes one side and you take the other before turning to face him.

"Thanks for staying with me tonight," you whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping Bo that laid between the two of you.

"No problem, y/n. You know I'd do anything for you." His words bring a smile to your face that he can barely see in the low light. You mutter another 'thank you' and then a 'goodnight' as you press your lips to his cheek before turning around and falling asleep.

...

Though the two of you fell asleep separately with Bo between you, you woke up snuggled into JJ's side, your head resting on his bare chest. Bo laid on the other side of him by his leg. You smiled down at the dog as you slid out of JJ's arms. After admiring his sleeping form, you turned off the house alarm and let the dogs out to do their business.

While they were out, you found some eggs and decided to scramble them for breakfast and serve them with some toast. A shirtless sleepy JJ appeared in the doorway as you cooked the eggs. He rubbed his tired eyes before leaning against the counter next to you.

"Whatcha cooking?" He asks as he looks out the window to watch the dogs run around.

"Some eggs. If you want to help, there's bread over there that you can pop in the toaster," you tell him, pointing in the direction of the bread. He nods and does as you asked of him. He looks around in several cabinets before finding the plates and he pulls out two for y'all. He places them down next to you as you finish the eggs and put them on the plates. As soon as you finish with that, the toast pops up.

"Do you want grape or apple jelly?" He asks as he holds the two options up for you to see.

"Grape please." He takes care of the toast as you get two forks and set the plates down on the counter where you two ate last night. You grab two cups and fill them both with some orange juice to complete your meals.

"We do pretty well together," he boasts looking down at the finished product of your work. You laugh and agree before sitting down next to him. As you eat your breakfast, you look around and really take in the beautiful home you have been staying in.

"This place is really pretty," you say softly, still looking around at everything.

"One day, I'm gonna get you a place like this," JJ says as you giggle. He's always joked that you two were going to end up together and that y’all would go full kook. You had always liked JJ but never tried anything. He never initiated anything either, so you just stayed friends. You nodded at him in agreement.

"One day, we will have a huge house and we'll have dogs too," you add on to the dream. JJ wanted to add kids to the dream too but was not sure how you would feel about it, so he kept quiet.

"Yep," he spoke before filling his mouth with eggs again.

...

"Hey y/n! Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you had anyone over," Savannah asked you through the phone. You felt tense and unsure about what she was getting at.

"Kiara and Sarah stayed with me one night, but that was it. Do you mind me asking why?" You weren't completely lying. After JJ stayed with you, Kie and Sarah spent the night two nights later.

"Well, I can't find one of my necklaces that I thought I had left in the living room on accident before leaving. It was worth a lot of money and my husband gave it to me. I was going to ask if you had seen it and if you had anyone over, would you please ask them if they had seen it too?" JJ's name ran through your mind constantly as she spoke. That little kleptomaniac probably stole it.

"No ma'am. I didn't see it, but I'll ask the girls and get back to you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just please let me know as soon as possible," she said before hanging up.

"Fuck," you mutter as your mind races. She probably thinks you stole it and she'll probably tell her sister and you won't be able to babysit anymore which is your most steady and good-paying job. You don't even bother asking the girls. Your first priority is JJ.

...

When you walk up to the chateau, you notice JJ laying on the hammock in the back.

"Hey y/n! What's up?" He asked happily but his face changed when he caught sight of yours. "What happened?"

"I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me." He nods, waiting for you to fill him in on what is bothering you.

"Did you steal anything from Savannah's house?"

"What the hell, y/n?" He asks, anger lacing his voice.

"That wasn't a no."

"No, y/n! I didn't steal anything. Why would you ask me that?" He seethes. He's stood up from the hammock now, too angry to sit.

"Because she can't find an expensive ass necklace and you normally like to steal things. Sorry for automatically thinking it was you," you speak sarcastically.

"I didn't steal it, y/n. I never saw a necklace the whole time I was there. You were with me the whole time. The only time we weren't together was when I was in the shower and when you were in the shower, I was in bed. I promise I didn't leave or go anywhere while you were gone." He stops for a minute as he thinks.

"Is that why you watched my every fucking move while I was there? Because you thought I would steal something?" You stayed quiet which gave him the answer he was looking for. He let out a scoff before continuing to speak.

"You know what? Fuck what I said. That whole dream of you and I getting together one day and living like that. I can't do that with someone who doesn't trust me." His words hurt but you shrugged it off as if it did not matter to you.

"That's fine with me. It was a dumb dream anyway. Like we could achieve that." You scoff before turning around and walking home. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You probably just lost your favorite job and your best friend. Could life get any worse? Your phone buzzes in your hand. Reluctantly you look down at it, hoping it was Kie or Pope or Sarah. Someone who could make you feel better, but it wasn't. It was Savannah.

Savannah: hey just wanted to let you know I found the necklace

"Shit," you muttered under your breath as guilt washes over you and you bolt back to the chateau. You had royally screwed up everything and have to fix it. When you walked to the back where JJ was, you saw him sitting in the hammock with his hands behind his head. He glances over at your approaching figure before returning his gaze to the tree above him.

"You here to accuse me of some more shit I didn't do?" He asks bitterly. You deserve it. You were a shit friend.

"Um, no," you whisper as you shake your head and more tears prick your eyes from all the guilt and shame you felt, "I'm so sorry JJ. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and I should've believed you. I know you wouldn't lie to me. I was just scared that I would lose my job with Sadie. You know how much I love those kids. I thought I'd never get to be with them again. I know that doesn't justify me accusing you of stealing but I love you and hope you can forgive me."

You wipe away the last of your tears before JJ stands up to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him, glad he seemed to forgive you for your crappy actions.

"I couldn't have stayed mad at you if I tried. I just wish you would trust me more," he whispered in your ear before pulling away from you.

"That's the thing JJ. I trust you so much, with my life and everything, but the things just added up and you'd be lying if you said stealing isn't something you would totally do." The two of you laugh together before JJ pulls you down onto the hammock with him and you lay together, looking up at the sky through the tree branches. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you before JJ decided to speak.

"You stole first," he said softly. You turned to look up at him with a questioning look upon your face.

"What? No, I didn't. What do you mean?"

"You stole my heart," he smiled goofily at you before you roll your eyes and cuddle into him.

"Oh, shut up." You feel his laugh vibrate through his chest.

"I love you, y/n," he whispered as his fingers ran through your hair.

"Love you too JJ," you hummed.

[nineteenninety-six]

A Tragic Birthday

REQUEST: Could you do an imagine where the reader is a Shelby sister and Tommy’s favourite sibling and one day a deal goes wrong or something and she dies but kinda how grace died, in Tommy’s arms and it’s all hectic. Thanks:)

I was going to take a little break (only to the weekend) because tumblr was stressing me out and annoying me but when I started this, I couldn’t stop and I don’t like sitting on fics.

TW: Death

WORD COUNT: 2681

[PART TWO]

It was (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday coming up in a week and it was safe to say that she was excited. (Y/N) had been looking forward to that day since her older brother Tommy had promised her a large party to celebrate the year before, and now that it was literally only days away she couldn’t stop buzzing about it, no doubt irritating her older siblings.

(Y/N) was the youngest of the Shelby siblings, a few years younger than Finn and was primarily raised by her Aunt Polly and her eldest brothers Arthur and Tommy. (Y/N) and Tommy were the closest between the siblings and had a special bond, that none of the others could replicate with their youngest sibling but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t close to her other siblings, because she was. In fact, it could be said that she had a special thing with each of her siblings; with Ada, they were close because they were the only girls in the family, Finn was the closest in age to her and they grew up as each other’s best friend, Arthur was the closest thing to a father she had and (Y/N) knew if she needed comforting then he would be the person she went to and John was someone she could rant to without judgment and he was always willing to help her out whenever she got in a sticky situation.

But the bond (Y/N) had with Tommy was different and there was no doubt that they were each other’s, favourite siblings. When their mother had died, Tommy had taken on the role as her primary caretaker, he changed her nappies, bottle-fed her and pretty much did anything a father would do. Polly had told her about how when she was a baby, Tommy would get a large piece of fabric and wrap her in it and secure her to his chest so that her cheeks rested on his chest because she would cry whenever she wasn’t being held by him and that it allowed him to keep her calm and content while he got some work done.

Just as much as (Y/N) hated being away from Tommy, Tommy hated being away from (Y/N) just as bad. He was overly protective when she was born, only allowing his Aunt Polly to get involved and help him out because despite thinking he knew everything, Tommy most definitely did not know how to handle a baby, especially not a newborn but he learnt and adapted and became a dad to her.

(Y/N) were three when Arthur, Tommy and John had to leave and go to war and Tommy to this day still has nightmares of how she screamed and cried to the point where she was almost sick at the train platform where he and the hundreds of other men from Small Heath were leaving from. (Y/N) didn’t understand what war was or why were her brothers were leaving but she did understand that her Tommy was leaving and she hated it.

Tommy had made a thousand promises to (Y/N) as he held her in his arms that day on the platform, repeatedly promising to come back alive and well and that he would never abandon her again and Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep them but he made it his goal to come back to her and the rest of his family.

But he didn’t break those promises and four years later, he was sobbing into the dress of a seven-year-old (Y/N), who was crying just as hard into his neck. The only time (Y/N) ever left Tommy’s arms the rest of that day was to hug her other brothers but other than that, (Y/N) was stuck to Tommy’s side. She was silent at first, slightly awkward around her brother who she hadn’t seen in years but it didn’t take long for her to become comfortable and start to quietly mutter into Tommy’s ear about everything he had missed whilst he was away and Tommy sat there in shock as she did so, marvelling at how much his little girl has grown. When he had left, she had just started to string sentences together but now she could speak in full sentences and was chatty, something he guessed she picked up from Ada.

That night as (Y/N) was curled up into a ball asleep beside him, Tommy cried once again. He was glad he was back home and alive but he knew nothing was going to be the same anymore but he was determined to keep things as normal as possible for her whilst she grew up and he was going to create a good life and world for her to live in.

And now eleven years after he’s returned home from the war, he’s pushed all his work to the side to prepare for the birthday of his little munchkin. Tommy had been dealing with an issue for the past week which involved one of his clients thinking he was overpaying for the Peaky Blinders services and was now demanding a refund. One that obviously Tommy refused to give.

Tommy called in the person who had knocked on the door, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork he was looking through.

“Hello to you too, Tommy.” The person said as they stepped into the office, moving to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of Tommy’s desk.

Tommy grinned when they spoke up, instantly recognising the voice,

“Good morning (Y/N), what have I done to be blessed with your presence this early in the morning?”

“I have the finalised cost list for the party.” Tommy pushed his other work to the side and took the piece of paper from (Y/N)’s fingers and skimmed his eyes over it, letting out a low whistle at the final amount,

“You plan on bleeding me dry eh?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and smiled, “Don’t even try it. I know my party costs less than what the Garrison re-opening did.”

“How do you know how much the Garrison cost?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“I just do.” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, a smug look on her face.

“Stop tricking Arthur into letting you see the company files” Tommy pointed a non-threating finger at his youngest sister who only rolled her eyes.

(Y/N) bit her lip in nervousness before she spoke up, “It’s not too expensive, is it? I can remove some stuff if you want!”

Tommy got up from his seat and walked around his desk and leant on it, patting (Y/N) on the head, “It’s not expensive, don’t worry, I was only teasing I’m sorry. You don’t turn eighteen everyday eh?”

“You’re the best Tommy!” (Y/N) leapt up and tightly hugged her brother.

“I know.”

Tommy laughed at (Y/N)’s scoff.

“Any plans for today?” Tommy asked as he went back around his desk and sat back down.

“Ada’s taking me down to London to pick up my dress.”

“Hmm, spending the whole day?”

“I think so. I mean we might as well. Karl and Finn are coming along too so we should be able to find something to do.” (Y/N) made her way to the door.

“Have fun.”

“Will do!” She called over her shoulder as she left his office

It was the day before (Y/N)’s birthday and the clients of Tommy’s that thought they were being scammed have only become an irritant to Shelby brothers, making threats and destroying property has become their form of revenge and attention-grabbing at the moment but none of them could do anything at that moment, all three of them making a promise to their youngest sister not to do anything gang related on the day off or the day before her birthday. (Y/N) desperately not wanting her birthday to be ruined and her brother understood and promised her that they wouldn’t. It was bugging Tommy that he had to wait on retaliating on them but he told himself years ago that his family came above everything else, especially his (Y/N).

On the morning of her birthday, (Y/N) slipped out of her bed and crawled into Tommy’s, his arm automatically wrapping her shoulder as she curled into his side. This was a semi-common occurrence between the two of them, originating from when Tommy started to try and put (Y/N) in her own bed in her own room for the night when she was a year old but it only took a few hours before (Y/N) was climbing out of her bed or Tommy himself took her back to his room. Though it had become less of a thing as (Y/N) grew up as her room was pretty much the only place that she could get peace and quiet and privacy from her wild family. (Y/N)’s room became her sanctuary.

“Good morning, Tommy!” (Y/N) chirped

“G’morning princess.” Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Here.” Tommy had pulled out a jewellery box from the draw in his bedside table and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” (Y/N) didn’t open the box straight away.

“My gift to you.”

“I thought the party was your gift to me”

“Take the gift (Y/N) or I’ll throw it in the bin.”

“Alright alright, christ almighty.”

(Y/N) slowly opened the box and gasped at what laid inside. It was a diamond necklace, simple yet elegant. Exactly (Y/N)’s style.

“Oh, Tommy. It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

“Glad you like it. Now get washed and dressed, I’m still taking you out for brunch.”

(Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek and left his room, not wanting to delay.

After their brunch, (Y/N) spent the rest of the day getting ready for the party and running around fretting about the smallest things, only settling down after a threat from Ada. After several impatient shouts from John and Finn, (Y/N) was finally making her way downstairs to the rest of her family who made of a series of appreciative noises when they saw her, causing her to smile.

“You look wonderful darling.” Polly walked over to her and gave her a hug before leading her outside and towards the Garrison where the party was being held, the rest of the family following behind them.

“How’s your day been so far?” Polly asked her.

“Good! Brunch with Tommy was great as per usual.” (Y/N) grinned.

(Y/N) usually had brunch with Tommy and then dinner with the rest of her family on her birthday but because this year was slightly different, they were doing dinner the next day.

“I’m glad.” Polly patted her hands and they continued their journey with small nonsense chatter, Ada and Esme quickly joining in.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived, drinks were being passed around and the music was pounding and as soon as she stepped foot into the pub, (Y/N) was dragged away by her friends, the bunch of them squealing and giggling. Tommy and his brothers were sat on a table tucked away but placed somewhere where they can see pretty much the whole room but despite that, they couldn’t see who had slipped into the pub.

Tommy too deep into conversation with Jeremiah Jesus and one too many drinks deep meant that he didn’t notice that something was up until the music suddenly stopped and screams erupted, and as he looked up to see what was happening, his blood ran cold at what he saw.

His little sister trapped in the arms of the client that was pissed off at him, with his gun held to her temple. The man wasn’t by himself, he had brought along two other men. (Y/N) was frozen in shock, afraid that one small mistake would result in her getting hurt.

Tommy slowly stood up and noticed his brothers and other Peaky Blinders do the same thing, each of them pulling out their guns. They easily outnumbered the three men but that didn’t matter as Tommy’s top priority was (Y/N)’s safety

“Thomas Shelby! We’re tired of being taken advantage of by people like you. We’ll have it no more!” One of the men shouted.

“Okay, alright. I hear you. Let’s talk, okay? But before that, I’m going to need you to let all these people go okay, they’re innocent.” Tommy gestured to people plastered to the walls of the Garrison, (Y/N)’s friends crying.

The man nodded and everyone quickly ran out, the only people left in the pub being Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Polly, Ada and Michael.

“Now, let the woman in your arms go. She’s just a teenager.”

The leader was the man holding (Y/N) and hesitated before he stood his ground, “No! If I let her go then you’ll just kill me. I want my money back Shelby!”

Arthur grumbled unhappily and shifted, causing Tommy to hold out his arm in warning.

“If you let her go we won’t.” Tommy placed his gun on the table as a sign of truce, “Just let her go.”

The man slowly nodded and loosened his grip allowing (Y/N) to slip through a take a slow step forward, sobs spilling through her lips. “You’re alright, you’re fine. C’mon.” Tommy held out his arms for (Y/N) and took a step towards her.

“No! Stop letting him win, it’s not fair!” One of the man’s sidemen shouted in rage before a loud bang sounded.

The room was silent as everyone tried to understand what had happened and it was until stuttered gasps left (Y/N) did Tommy understand what had happened.

“No!” Tommy raced over to (Y/N) and caught her in his arms just as her legs buckled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.” Tommy slowly lowered himself to ground with her in his arms. (Y/N)’s blood spilling through her dress and on to him.

“(Y/N), n-no p-please. O-oh god no”

(Y/N) let out a soft noise of distress as Tommy harshly pressed on the bullet wound.

“I know precious, I know it hurts but I have to do it.” Tommy didn’t even realise he was crying until (Y/N) gently flinched when a tear fell on her face.

“Polly! Polly help!” Tommy heard the clicking of his aunt’s heels before he felt her pushing his hands away. “Polly-- no I’ve got to help her”

“Tommy, let me check on her okay?” His aunt convinced him to move away so check on (Y/N)

Tommy had been so engrossed with (Y/N) that he had no idea what going elsewhere until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance. It was Arthur and John was right behind him, both had blood splattered on them. Finn was crouched down by (Y/N)’s head softly brushing her hair back as he whispered into her ear, Tommy could see the tears slowly sliding down his face.

“Tommy” His aunt had a defeated look on her face and slowly shook her head.

“No! You’re wrong!” Tommy pushed past his aunt and shoved Finn aside so that he could fully bring (Y/N) into his arms, slowly rocking for side to side, loudly sobbing.

(Y/N) was in too much pain to speak and used the remnants of her energy to squeeze Tommy’s hand as tight as she could before she finally passed.

Tommy felt (Y/N) slightly slump in his arms and knew what had happened, letting a loud cry of pain. Tommy heard the cries and shouts and tears of his family around him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he was too wrapped up in the pain of his youngest sister that was more like a daughter to him an how her death was his fault.

His darling girl was dead.

[ddullahan]

Here's a prompt I've been thinking about writing but never will Ruby finds that whenever she checks out a book from the library its been checked out before by a W.Schnee as well. Like every book she chooses. So she's suuuper curious as to what type of person she is. She thinks theyre really similar because they have the same tastes in books.And they meet and she finds out that Weiss is nothing like her at all.And cute shit happens? Idk I didn't think this through 😂

BRUH WHAT THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE I went ham on this lmao thank you so much for the prompt idea!! I picture Ruby and Weiss in their twenties in this as a PSA lol ---------- The library was solemn that afternoon. Ruby wandered the stacks, breathing in the paper and leather from the shelves around her. The tips of her fingers skimmed the spines, silver eyes drifting over with no real clarity behind them. She pulled a book free from the shelf with the title The Beast of Vale, automatically flipping it open and skimming the inside cover. Someone sneezed with the force of a gunshot in the distance and Ruby nearly dropped the book, a flustered apology whispered out of sight. She recovered with a soft giggle, tucking it under her arm. Arching up onto her toes to glance at the other covers, there was a second sneeze and another hasty apology. Ruby bit her lip to stifle another laugh, pulling a second book free, Dust Below Dawn, and set to reading the inside cover. She pinched that to her side too, reaching for a third book - and a third sneeze rocketed through the quiet library. She heard a soft swear nearby and shuffled her books into her hands, curiosity pricking at her skin. She slunk to the end of the aisle, poking her head around the corner. “Bless y-” She choked off mid-sentence, her eyes widening. The woman seated amongst the thick red leather couches was far too pretty to be real. Stark white hair draped over her shoulders in silk waves, braided at the temples and leaving the rest to fall loose. White bangs framed her brow, partially covering a thick pale scar over her left eye. Most of her face was covered by a pale blue handkerchief furiously rubbing at her nose, but Ruby could still catch the gem blue eyes squinted against the pressure. They matched the dark and light blues of her three piece suit and matching heels. She had a sleek looking laptop on the coffee table in front of her, a lipstick stained coffee cup set beside it. Accompanying the laptop were several blue-bound books stacked as far away from her as possible, without the threat of them falling off the small table. The woman sniffed daintily, catching Ruby’s movement and hastily folding her handkerchief back into her inside pocket. “Oh -” “Oh um -” Ruby stammered at the same time, nearly jumping out of her skin as those blue eyes focused completely on her. “Did I -” “Bless you!” Ruby blurted out in a panic. The woman paused, blinking at her. “...Thank you..?” “You’re pretty - Welcome!” Ruby squeaked, her heart pounding so hard she was sure she could feel it through the books clutched to her chest. “You’re pretty welcome. Yep.”    An almost invisible smile pitched the corners of the woman’s eyes, amusement coloring her tone. “Pretty welcome. That’s a new one.” Ruby flushed red to the tips of her ears, a clumsy little laugh bursting from her, unchecked. “Well I’m uh, a new one. New-new person, I mean. We’ve never met before. So I’m new. To you.” The working percentage of her brain immediately wished to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Thankfully, her flustering seemed to amuse the woman further, prompting a light, stuttering laugh from her red lips. Ruby was surprised with herself, amazed she was still standing beyond the force of that smile. “You are.” The woman said evenly. Ruby immediately wished she’d worn something nicer to the library, as the weight of those blue eyes skimmed over her attire. Big black boots and black rose stockings lead up to a simple short black dress cinched at the waist and deep red cardigan thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, the tattered ends reaching down to her ankles. The soft red sleeves were pushed up her forearms, black bracelets around her wrists and a simple black choker wrapped around her throat. She didn’t bother with make-up that day, and she bemoaned it silently. “S-so um.” She shifted awkwardly, the woman’s eyes snapped up to hers immediately, the words sticking in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, clutching her books tighter for sanity. “A-are you um. Okay? Those were some pretty powerful sneezes.” The woman’s spine stiffened a little, crossing her legs at the knee. Her hands folded over on her lap. One of her heels drifted a little loose, cruxed at the ball of her foot. She had the presence of someone three times her actual size and Ruby could only watch the transformation in awe. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. It seems I’m mildly allergic to the dust in these books. And not the useful kind.” Her lips pursed in the semblance of a frown. “Oh, that’s tragic.” Ruby flushed back up her eyes. “I-I mean, not tragic tragic. Just, um. It sucks you can’t smell the paper without sneezing.” “Yes I...thought the same.” She tilted her head, a few strands of her hair curling over the sharp line of her shoulder. Ruby wondered absently if meeting someone gorgeous was supposed to feel like dying. “Have you read those books before?” “These?” Ruby looked down at the books in her hands like she’d forgotten they were there. Honestly it was hard to remember anything now that she could breathe. “Uh no, not yet. I was planning to check them out though.” “Dust Below Dawn is enjoyable, as long as you don’t mind egregious prose and flowery alliterations.” The woman hummed, her spine relaxing as she reached for her coffee cup. Ruby tried not to stare too hard as her pale throat bobbed with a sip. “Wow, words.” Ruby murmured under her breath, shell-shocked that she’d missed her entire sentence. “Alternatively,” The woman continued, either ignoring or missing Ruby’s lack of attention, “The Beast of Vale is a masterwork. The author spent a dangerous amount of months near Mount Glenn just researching the properties of the city and grimm surrounding.” Ruby snapped out of her daze, glancing down at her copy of The Beast of Vale in wonder. Her feet were moving before she even realised it, cardigan sweeping out in a flutter behind her as she dropped into the opposing red couch. She leaned over the books now relocated to her lap, leaning forward eagerly. “Wow so you’ve read both of these before?” It was only after a beat of silence that Ruby realised how pink the other woman’s cheeks were, how wide her eyes had grown. “I- well yes. I wouldn’t know anything about them if I had no interest.” “Do you research the authors of all the books you read?” Ruby asked curiously. “Only the ones I care deeply for. I like knowing the process involved.” “That’s super neat!” The woman blinked like she’d just been blindsided. “Thank you?” “On a scale of one through ten, what would you rate Dust Below Dawn?” Ruby bulldozed on through the conversation, gaining confidence now. “Six.” The woman replied, almost startled by her own quick response. “The Beast of Vale?” “Nine.” “Okay okay, how about - are these books yours too?” Ruby prodded the small stack closest to her, careful not to jostle the stained coffee cup. “They are.” “Have you read them already?” “...Yes.” The woman’s flush crawled higher on her cheeks, her sharp scar imperious amongst the pink. “Okay,” Ruby flipped the top book over, skimming the title. “What would you rate - oh hey, I’ve read this one! What would you rate Atlas Knights?” “Ugh, two.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “I read it faster because I wanted it over with. The main character was unbelievably whiny.” “I dunno, I was under the impression she had a hard time expressing herself.” Ruby hummed, flipping the cover over to the library checkout slip.  She found her name, R. Rose, and another below hers, W. Schnee. A bit of recognition itched at the back of her mind. The woman scoffed. “Well what rating would you give it?” Ruby’s attention switched on a dime. “Mm… probably a five.” Ruby frowned. “The world was cool. But if the main character had a hard time expressing herself, the author also didn’t give her a chance to be better. It’s like, she’s saved by her knight, but still a brat. The other characters all know she’s a brat, but none of them talk to her about it. She isn’t given a chance to be a person, she’s just given a flaw and stuck with it for the entire story.” The woman hummed in reticent agreement, reaching for her coffee again. Ruby pointedly didn’t watch this time, sliding the book aside to look at the one underneath. She made a little curious hum under her breath. “I’ve read this one too. What did you think about Song of Ice and Rust?” “Probably rated a seven or eight. I enjoyed the twist immensely.” Ruby looked up at her with a bright grin, heart thundering uncomfortably in her throat. “It was so good, wasn’t it!?” She received a small but genuine smile for her enthusiasm. It made her feel like she could fly to the rafters. “The dragon really sold it for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be the ancient king.” “Gods I read that and almost screamed - it was like three in the morning though so I had to contain myself.” “That must have been hard for you.” The woman said with false sympathy, though her smile remained curled. “Hey! I’ll have you know Miss -” Ruby glanced on the inside of the cover, finding again her name and the same W. Schnee underneath. “Schnee, I’m perfectly capable of containing myself.” “This conversation has proved otherwise.” She replied smoothly, though a bit of stiffness had returned to her spine. Her gaze seemed to be searching for something, but Ruby wasn’t really sure what it was she wanted. Shrugging it off, she moved on to the last book on the table, a small frown gracing her face. “Man this is so weird, I’ve literally read all of these.” Ruby said, tilting her head curiously. “We must have similar tastes in literature.” “We must…” Ruby squinted at the inside of the cover, spotting the same W. Schnee below her name. Something itched at the back of her mind again. She dropped the cover closed, swinging open Dust Till Dawn’s cover. There was the same simple cursive of W. Schnee. “Have you read The Nevermore’s Quarry?” Ruby asked, suddenly, looking up at her. She knew full well that book wasn’t anywhere near their little table. The woman blinked, leaning forward curiously. “Yes, I have. How did you-?” “The Harbinger Sons?” Ruby asked, silver eyes widening. “...Yes?” The woman looked equally as mystified. Her eyes drifted above Ruby’s head in thought. “Have you read Of Bones and Evil?” “Yes,” Ruby breathed, her grin growing wider by the second. “Fortune’s Fallacy?” Ruby just nodded, her entire body lighting up with a different kind of energy. “What in the world…” The woman murmured. “I think you might be my library soulmate.” Ruby said. She had no idea someone could turn so red in such a short time, admiring the flush under the woman’s scar. Ruby was almost entertained, watching as she sputtered in the cutest kind of fluster. “Y-you can’t just say that to someone!” She stammered. Ruby’s confidence came roaring to life. She pouted. “So that means I can’t ask you out either?” “I- what.” Blue eyes blinked rapidly, the very picture of an error message written in human form. “I thought your name looked familiar. I’ve been reading the same books as you for almost a year straight.” Ruby tried not to show how much her palms were sweating, nerves shuffling in cold versus the warm wake of her momentary confidence. Predictably, her mouth started running without her permission.“I think we have a lot in common and I’d like to get to know you and maybe possibly talk more about books when I don’t look like a scrub. You’re like, other-worldly gorgeous and you’re so far out of my league but my sister says I can’t write anything off without trying it first and I figured I’d try it out y’know, benefit of the doubt and holy moly I’ve been talking for way too long-” “You only know my name from the books we’ve read?” The woman spoke it more like a statement, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Um. I mean I’d like to know your first name. But, yeah.” Ruby gave in and brushed her palms down the front of her skirt, fingers starting to shake with adrenaline. “Weiss.” She replied absently. “Weiss Schnee.” Ruby’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Ruby Rose.” Weiss gave her a once over, the astonishment fading into something entirely different. Her gaze carried a weight to it that had Ruby’s palms sweating double time, her twitchy fingers immediately fiddling with her red cardigan. “...Alright.” Weiss gave a slow, smooth smile. Ruby almost passed out. “Wh- really?” “Do you have a pen on you?” “I- yes!” Ruby all but evacuated the library ten minutes later, a number written on the back of her hand next to a clear, red lipstick stain. She nearly ran into a pole, but she knew it’d be ten thousand percent worth it. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Yang’s face.