#They promise that they will be by each others sides from here on out. That they will trust each other. But. Well. You know the story

[tbaluver]

Baby's First Vaccine- The Love And DeepSpace Men

order: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus genre: fluff, silly a/n: hihi lovelies! i'm almost finished with my semester so i'll be busy-ish (っ- ‸ - ς) here's a small scenario/headcanon that was in my drafts ! (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i'll try to finish any small req or unfinished drafts this week maybe ! anyways enjoy reading! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier eyes the doctor’s every movement the entire appointment while he gently holds your hand and your baby in his other arm. Constantly leaning in to ask you questions and clarification on what the doctor was doing.

“what is that?”

“it’s a stethoscope sir.”

When you two are alone in the room with your baby, he'll distract your baby boy with his evol, doing a small light show. When the nurses come in and prep the needle, he’ll have his baby boy face away from the scene. He doesn't want to increase his baby’s anxiety and his own

The moment any stray tears fall from your baby, his gaze would sharpen on the nurse as if they were completely at fault. You’d step in to reassure both of them that everything is okay.

He would also take the entire lollipop jar after his baby gets one.

Zayne:

Zayne would be the one to arrange the day and time for the doctor’s appointment, knowing that there will be a vaccine involved. He knows exactly which nurse will provide the gentlest care for his baby girl and who can handle the situation with ease. And of course, he knows which one has the sweetest lollipops to offer after.

As the nurses prepare everything, he’ll hold your daughter gently in his lap, letting her play with his large hands or his tie to keep her distracted.

If any stray tears were to escape, he’d be quick to wipe them away while whispering soft words of encouragement and praises for being so brave and well-behaved.

“can i please have two more lollipops ma’am?” your daughter asks sweetly.

“how could i say no to a cute face like that of course you can!” the nurse can’t help but smile as she hands over two extra lollipops.

zayne watches the exchange, a soft smile spreading across his face. you both watch your daughter run up to you both, handing you one lollipop each.

“that’s my girl.” zayne murmurs, as he gently lifts her up into his arms effortlessly.

Rafayel:

Rafayel is more terrified than his own baby. He hated that humans have to do this and how humans are so weak and fragile that they needed to get vaccinated.

Your baby remains calm, unaware of the needle’s sting until the soreness hits making a few stray tears and a soft whimper escape your baby’s lips. He tightens his hold on his baby, carefully avoiding the arm that was just pricked.

He’ll cradle his baby boy while pressing multiple kisses on his head while whispering promises that he’s never ever going to make him go through this again.

“here’s your lollipop for being so brave!” the nurse exclaims, handing over the treat. but before the nurse could even finish her sentence, rafayel snatches it out of her hand.

“geez, i didn’t know these shots could be this scary!” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. but he narrows his eyes at the nurse, crossing his arms. “ummmm aren’t you going to give my baby a treat too?”

Sylus:

Sylus remains calm. It's easy when you're right beside him the entire time. His baby girl is settled gently on his lap, distracting and trying to ease her from any anxiety by lifting her up and down before the nurses come back in the room.

He doesn’t stop distracting her as he gently tickles her sides and adds reassurance the moment the needle touches her skin. He doesn’t complain when she squeezes his finger with her small hands as she winces from the pain.

He rubs her back gently, whispering gentle praises in between kisses on the top of her head. “you did so well sweetheart.”

“good job my little dove,” he smiles curling on the corner of his lips as he lifts her onto his broad shoulders, treating her like the little champion she is. “brave just like your mommy, yes?”

[winterferger]

To be the devil's advocate here, if they built this contraption themselves? Then that's their brushstrokes. If they painstakingly chose all those paints in that particular order and produced the perfect alchemical balance in colors to keep them from mixing while in the drip vat? Then that's their brushstrokes. To even have them sitting in there side by side instead of layers on top of each other so that they'll pour out as a rainbow is a feat upon itself.

I promise, I say this as someone that went to a college that was so anti-graphic art they put me behind in the early naughts? And I mean to the point I gave up my passion for a different major? Sometimes teachers, even whole schools of them, are just wrong.

[pinkgic]

ex-boyfriend fratboy!rafe. god help me!

cw. smut (mdni), fem!reader, toxic relationship, alcohol and drug use, mirror sex, degradation kink.

the music sounds distant, muffled by the white-tiled walls that appeared a light, smudged gray thanks to the alcohol fogging your brain—and the way his pelvis kissed your ass with each plap-plap-plap, echoing in the bathroom of a party you weren’t even supposed to be at. for this exact reason. you knew how it would end. with your lame coked-up excuse of an ex inside you.

and still, you couldn't even answer the big, ugly question sitting in your gut: why the fuck do i keep letting him do this? your body had betrayed you again, thighs spread wide and shaking as his cock hit that spot that made your toes curl against the cold tile. and, of course, your eyes met his in the large, square mirror above the sink. a voyeuristic form of self-loathing. as if you needed to confirm, once again, how the promises of, “no, i’m not gonna talk to him, not even look at him, i promise!” made to your friends, were entirely baseless.

perhaps even they had already accepted it—

“fuck,” he groaned, and a grin stretched across his stupidly handsome face as you let out another loud moan when his fat tip grazes your g-spot, bingo. thankfully, for the sake of your peace of mind (because he, more than once, hadn’t cared if the entire party heard how good his cock made you feel), the host’s house was massive. you’d ended up here with him because all the other bathrooms were occupied when the drinks you’d downed earlier hit, and that’s how you found yourself in the second-floor bathroom at the end of the hall. that's how “pee-and-leave” turned into this.

his right hand—the one not gripping your shoulder with his beefy arm wrapped tightly around your trembling torso—moved up, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look into the mirror at the two of you: sweaty, panting bodies. 

“fuckin’ look at that,” he panted, gaze flicking down. “hah, shit, look how those two bounce,” he slapped the side of your breast, leaving a hot, stinging mark. he was so mean.

and you hated yourself for clenching around him because of it.

his laugh was this low, mean sound, vibrating against your back as he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat pressing into you like he needed to get as deep as possible. fucking gross. the thought was interrupted by the hot breath skating over the shell of your ear. “see that face you’re making?” he murmured. “‘s my favorite one. you look so—fuckin’—wrecked.”

and god, if he wasn’t right. your eyeliner had betrayed you hours ago, smeared into shadows that made your eyes look too big, too wide, like a haunted doll. your lips were red and swollen, half from the sloppy kiss that started this whole thing and half from biting down so hard to keep yourself quiet. the woman staring back at you was enjoying it, there was no way to deny that.

“shut up,” you hissed, you just wanted to look away. but his fingers curled tighter around your jaw, already marking his digits there.

“you don’t want me to shut up,” he taunted, his hips rolling deeper, lazier. like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. “you love it when i talk, when i tell you how fuckin’ good you’re taking it, like the slut you are.”

you hated him. you hated him so much you could cry—you were going to cry, but for different reasons. you hated the way he always knew exactly what to say, to keep you squeezing him between your slick walls, and getting you addicted every day a little bit more, increasing the dose.

but the worst part—the part that made your chest twist like a wet towel, wringing out something raw and acidic—was how he was right. he always was. every damn time. you hated how he’d figured you out. he was your ex, goddamn it!

because yeah, you did love it. loved the sound of his low voice dragging over your nerves like a matchstick ready to explode a bomb. loved the way his cock stretched you open until it felt like your brain short-circuited, leaving nothing but static between your ears. loved that stupid smirk, too. it wasn’t fair. he wasn’t fair. 

you tried to focus on anything else—the way the faucet dripped, the faint bassline pulsing through the floor beneath you, keeping your eyes open. “rafe,” you whispered in a treacherous moan.

his hand slid down your belly, splayed wide like he was claiming you, branding you his. “tell me,” his voice was almost tender now, mockery softened by the way he groaned as you clenched around him. “tell me how much you hate me while you’re drippin’ all over my cock.” 

you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. your throat tightened as your hips jerked back to meet his thrusts, sharp and desperate, chasing something you’d regret in the morning along with the hangover. or maybe right after you came. but right now, you needed it like you needed air. 

his laughter curled around you, mean and knowing, as his hand slid up your belly, splayed possessively just under your ribs. like he owned you. like he always had, no matter how many times you’d tried to scrape him out of your system. “that’s what I thought,” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple like a kiss. like he thought he was being romantic, like he thought this was some kind of fucked-up love story. “hate me all you want, baby. but this?” his hand slid lower, between your legs, pinching your sensitive clit, making you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood as your legs buckled. “this don’t lie.”

[hockeyboistrash]

red | j.h

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy . My song is Red 😊

Losing him was blue, like I'd never known

It was a warm summer's evening but not hot enough that you could go without a jumper. You remember that because you were wearing Jack's high school hockey jumper. He gave it to you a couple of months after you started dating when you got cold on one of your dates. You never gave it back because Jack always said it looked better on you than him, his eyes twinkled with love when he said that. You missed that look.

Jack could barely look you in the eyes now. His usual confident aura was replaced with nerves. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his grey shorts and his gaze was on the floor. You didn’t know where this came from. One minute you were talking about your future together after college and the draft, the next Jack was breaking up with you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He mumbled. You had so many mixed emotions. Upset because the love of your life was breaking up with you. Angry because he was breaking up with you without a good reason. Angry because he can’t look you in the eye and do it. 

“You’re breaking up with me and that’s all you can say? Sorry?” You tried to keep your voice calm, wanting to hide how his words affected you. “Why, Jack? Why are you doing this? I don’t understand. Did someone say something to you?” Jack glanced at you for a fleeting moment, enough to see the guilt in his eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You stood frozen as you watched Jack walk away. Tears silently falling down your cheeks and your heart hurt. Your first heartbreak is the one that hurts you most after all. 

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

It was nights like this when you missed Jack. Rain was pelting the windows, the electricity had gone out and you were cold. If Jack was here he’d have you wrapped in his arms, curled up in bed together keeping each other warm. Jack would then get bored and pepper soft kisses over your face, getting lower and lower, his fingers dancing at the waistband of your leggings. You missed him.

It was one of your favourite memories together, the weather was similar to tonights. Rain was falling heavily, pelting the windows with force, it was cold and the electricity was out. With Jack though, you felt safe. The torrential downpour outside was pushed to the back of your mind and so was the power outage. 

Candle light danced across Jack’s features, highlighting the concentration on his face. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was cute how into the card game he was. “Just pick a card.” You said, sighing playfully. 

“I can’t just pick a card.” He grumbled, frowning at his cards trying to figure out which one to put down. Before you could tease him more, a boom of thunder shook the windows making you jump. “Come here.” Jack said, opening his arm out for you. The card game now forgotten. You put your own cards down, scooting over to Jack and tucking yourself in his arms. “It’s okay.” He mumbled against your head.

The two of you stayed in each other's arms long enough for the thunderstorm to pass. “Sorry.” You apologised, feeling embarrassed about being scared of the storm.

“You don’t need to apologise, Y/N.” Jack assured you, brushing a stray bit of hair out of the way. “I’m here for you, always.” He promised, cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. 

He wasn’t here though. His side of the bed remained cold, the moments together remained a distant memory. 

Forgetting him was like trying to know Somebody you never met

How were you expected to move on from your first love when his face was plastered everywhere. Just when you think you’re doing better he pops up and you’re slipping back to old habits, looking at old photos of you together and missing him. 

You got to give your friends credit though. They tried to help you move on, to forget about Jack Hughes. They set you up on dates, took you out to bars to meet guys. They did everything they could but something in the back of your mind would always go back to Jack. 

Tonight had to be the worst blind date you’ve been on yet. He wouldn’t stop talking about your ex. You felt a pit in your stomach form when you saw the tv at the bar had hockey on and then your date noticed and made comments throughout the night. He was a Rangers fan talking shit about the Devils. You tried not to let it bother you, you weren’t dating Jack anymore so why do you care what some random guy said about him and his team. 

That was the problem. You did care about him. Jack Hughes was a guy you could never forget. 

But loving him was red

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this but after a shitty night and a few drinks all common sense went out the window. Your heart that was haphazardly stitched back together would only break again yet you found yourself dialling the familiar number.

“Y/N?” Jack said, picking up his phone. You felt your mouth go dry not expecting him to answer. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. You could hear him go somewhere quieter, the voices in the background disappearing.

“I’m not okay, Jack. You broke my heart. I loved you and you broke my heart. I can’t escape this feeling because you are everywhere. I can’t go on dates without thinking about you. I miss you. I shouldn’t but I do. So no, I’m not okay because you messed me up Jack Hughes. You gave me the best years and the worst years of my life. I hate you but I love you at the same time. I’m not okay.” The filter in your brain disappeared, words tumbled out and they didn’t stop yet it felt like a weight had been lifted. Years of words accumulating burst. 

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.” Jack said after a beat of silence. The logical side of you knew this was a bad idea but you found yourself wanting to see him, the years of pain slowly being forgotten. Loving him was red after all.

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Chapter Fifteen: I'll just ask Mark - four images, 1.5k words - heads up, this chapter deals more with y/n's mental health than previous ones

You were thankful you didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, because time slipped right by you while at lunch with Haechan. The two of you got sandwiches and coffee from the library café, but when you quickly realized all the tables were taken, you ended up bringing the food back to Haechan’s apartment just a short walk away. This is where time started flying past. The two of you turned on an old cartoon show to watch while you ate, but once you were finished, your own voices quickly overtook the sound of the television.

It was a strange truth to find out - that you and Haechan actually got along swimmingly, taking to each other like a duck to water. Of course, up until the last week or so, the majority of your time knowing each other was spent either ignoring one another or exemplifying passive aggression; so your ability to actually carry a conversation for hours was a very new concept, but one you could hardly take the time to question when you were too busy laughing until you couldn’t breathe.

Haechan was the first to calm down after the last bout of laughter shared in the living room, and he leaned his head against the front of the couch - the two of you opted to sit on the floor as you ate since there was no coffee table to place everything on; not to mention the couch wasn’t that comfortable in the first place.

He rolled his head to the side so he could look at you, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite on your bottom lip to try and stop more laughs from leaving your system. He let a soft grin come across his face as he took in your presence, and the fact that he was happy here with you. “Remind me to thank Mark for convincing you to transfer,” he says gratefully, traces of a laugh still tainting his light voice. Though, all at once, your body stills, and you open your eyes to meet his soft gaze before swiftly bringing your focus to where you had begun messing with your fingers in your lap.

“Oh. It wasn’t really- he didn’t convince me, so to speak. I had to transfer.” You fumble through your words, embarrassment tinging your cheeks a shade of pink.

Haechan furrowed his brows at you. “What do you mean?” He asks curiously, and you can’t help the heavy sigh that escapes you.

You stop fidgeting, but you can’t bring your gaze up from your lap as you respond smoothly. “I was really, badly depressed. Not to mention half the student body at SM used to actually bully me," you recall with a scoff.

“At the end of the day, I just wanted my brother closer than thirty minutes away from me. Helped me feel less alone, or at least helped me not make rash decisions, I mean- I hated myself. Wasn’t sure I was anything but a waste of space, honestly; and the idea of going to my brother to be talked down felt better than going to my friends, cause I always thought they would leave me if all I did was come to them with struggles. My brother can’t leave, he’s stuck with me. Though most of the time, that doesn’t really make it any easier - it’s still putting so much responsibility on Mark, when he’s probably the last person who needs any more added to his plate. Regardless, he does his best - and only partly because he's forced to," you say with a weak laugh before continuing softly.

"In transferring here, my parents made him promise that he wouldn’t allow me to throw myself into oncoming traffic, or maybe it was off a bridge. I don’t know. Something stupid but-”

You cut yourself off when you hear what you think is a sniffle from beside you. You whip your head over to look and get confirmation that he’s actually crying. “Haechan?” You get out worriedly, your brows furrowing as you take in his wide watery eyes and small trembles. You reach out to wipe away at the tears racing down his face, and he just shakes his head against your hold.

“Don’t leave. Don’t you ever dare leave,” he manages to get out somewhat firmly. Your lips form a tight smile at his care and you shake your head, trying to dispel his worries.

“I’m not-” You start, but he cuts you off and you’re sure it’s because he doesn’t quite believe you…not that you could blame him.

He moves from sitting flat on the ground to instead lean over and engulf you in a hug, made awkward by the fact that he was practically just ramming his body into your side. You didn’t care, you wrapped your arms around him the best you could as he gets out choked words. “I need you. Here. I need you here,” he hiccups, and you break.

“Haechan…it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you say, trying your best not to cry now, too as you begin to rub a hand up and down his back.

You feel a light poke at your side and glance down to see his pinkie outstretched. You look back up to face him in confusion, but his eyes are still directed towards the floor, not to mention squeezed shut. “P-promise,” he gets out weakly. With the tears staining his face, the shaking of his body, and his choked words, you knew you never wanted to see Haechan like this ever again. So, without truly realizing how much this pinky promise was going to mean to him, you lace your finger with his and watch as the smallest wave of relief crashes over him.

He falls more decidedly against you, and you hold him there tightly, running your fingers gently across his clothes and through his hair. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, but you know you didn’t let up from the hug until he was completely rid of tears. Though, when you lift your arms up and allow him to sit back upright, he doesn’t, and a small smile crosses your face as you gently place your arms back around his figure.

You hadn’t seen him look this small ever before, and the fact that he was being this emotional and vulnerable with you was making warmth spread through your entire body. You only hoped it could transfer through the hug you had him in, figuring he probably needed it more right now - for some reason, it couldn't click that he was crying over you, that he was currently concerned about making sure you felt comforted and cared for...though that quickly changes with his next words.

“I’m sorry I was a dick to you earlier,” he finally says with resolve. You move to shake your head and dismiss it, but he presses on. “I treated you poorly for no reason, and I’m sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is remind you of someone from your old school. I’ll do better. I promise all I’ll ever try to do is put a smile on your face, but if it’s ever not genuine, I need you to know that you can come to me, confide in me, whatever. Your heavy feelings aren’t going to scare me away. You don’t need to ever pretend around me, and if I’m the only person who has made that clear, then so be it, I’ll be your rock.”

He finally moves as he says this so that he can make eye contact with you, unfortunate because you had finally started crying at his words. “It’s so hard,” you squeak out. “With my family, I mean - I just want to be a good daughter- a good sister. They don’t deserve all that stress of my mental health. I- I broke my family’s heart telling them how I thought of myself…the point I was reaching. I don’t ever want to worry them like that again.” As you finish, your attention is turned towards where Haechan lightly grabbed your hand in his.

“You broke mine, too, but you need to understand that I’ll let you break it over and over again if it means you aren’t going through this alone.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone and it sends even more tears racing down your cheeks. He sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe gently under your eyes. “Y/n,” he says, his voice soft but filled with intent.

You nod your head, knowing what he was looking for - any confirmation that you were actually taking in his words. “Thank you,” you say weakly, causing a corner of Haechan’s mouth to perk up in a soft grin.

His hand that was previously at your cheek moves up to eventually run back down through your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “Do you wanna watch The Aristocats?” He asks gently.

Your wide eyes meet his. “You’d watch it with me again?” You respond in awe.

Haechan lets out a small laugh, turning his gaze to the floor before shaking his head and looking in your teary eyes again. “You said it’s your comfort movie…I’d watch it a thousand times.”

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a/n: yuhhhh

Taglist: @fullsunstrawberry @choizzn @raevyng @dudekiss3r @yewshi @artsenthusiastk77 @injunnie-lemon @markeroolee @chan-yeoldelling @sunflowerhae @mystverse @urlovelily @luvandletter @jeonghansshitester @dinonuguaegi @untilthesunrises @clean-soap @andassortedkpop @dlin3 @roseangelxfuma @gomdoleemyson @simmsunshine @swanyvess @awktwurtle @t-102 @kukkurookkoo

@hahaechans @ypoom151999 @goldenclosethobi

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Pt.12

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: just some pg13 making out, nothing else.

WC: 3.3k

A/N: hi, I finally got this chapter finished, it’s been a struggle, like I’ve said I’ve been incredibly busy, I’m hoping to get some short blurbs written for yall so I can get back to consistently posting.

You didn’t hear much from Jessie the next day. A few texts here and there, but nothing like you were used to. You acknowledged each other at training, uncomfortable glances in each other's direction, followed by quick, training related conversations.

You hated it. Feeling like you had messed up, that you were to blame. You had spent the night feeling angry, at Jessie and at yourself. Her words had hurt, the way she nearly dismissed what you had seen as valuable. You loved the safety you felt when it was just the two of you in her apartment. You loved how it felt to finally feel comfortable exploring this side of your life. You loved being able to touch her, hold her hand, kiss her and not feel scared. You loved being able to open talk, no teammates or strangers potentially listening in. You figured she had felt the same, until she had called it all fake.

At the same time you were mad at her, you were mad at yourself. You knew it wasn’t fair to force Jessie into dates at home. She deserved someone who wanted to show her off, someone who was proud to be her girlfriend and showed it. You hadn’t given that to her. The longer you sat in bed thinking, the more you felt torn. You didn’t want to lose her, but you weren’t ready for everyone to know, at least not yet.

“Can I pick you up tonight? 9pm? I’ll have you home by midnight I promise.” Those were the first words you spoke to Jessie this morning that weren’t related to soccer. You had waited around in the locker room after training until all your teammates had left and just the two of you sat side by side in your cubbies.

“Kinda late don’t you think?” She questions quietly.

“Please?” You didn’t want to have to beg her, but you needed to talk, you needed this chance with her.

“Okay, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up.” You say to her as she heads out of the locker room. A little hurt that she hadn’t waited to walk out with you, but you also couldn’t blame her too much. This morning had been tense and awkward, it was fair for her to run off.

“You’re not going to kill me up here are you?” Jessie tries to break the silence in the car. You just glance at her. “Sorry, obviously a joke.”

You and Jessie had been driving for about 25 minutes before you parked the car. You had traveled out of the city of Portland, into the woods, down a gravel road, to a small clearing you found last year. Away from the hussle and bussle of the city, it became a quiet place for you to think. It probably wasn’t at all what she was expecting, but you didn’t mind surprising her.

“9pm picnic?” Jessie says, puzzled look on her face as she followed you out of the car and watched you lay out the blanket you had brought.

“No, stargazing.” You point upward to the clear sky displaying tiny bright dots of light.

“Oh.” Jessie makes her way to the blanket, toeing off her shoes before sitting down. You follow, sitting beside her. Just like the car, the two of you start off in silence, waiting for the other to break it.

“Look, Jessie.” You start, waiting for her to turn to look at you, when her eyes meet yours you continue. “I know this isn’t completely public, but I’m trying. You asked to do something outside of our houses, this is what I’m comfortable with for now. I wanted to show you, I’m in this, I want this.”

“I know, I’m really sorry, for what I said, I should have never said those dates were fake, because they weren’t. Those evenings together meant something to me and they meant something to you. They weren’t fake and I’m so sorry I said they were. I’m in this too, I want this too. I just freaked out, thinking you’d keep me a secret forever, which now that I’ve reflected was stupid and I just panicked.”

“It was never my intention to keep you a secret forever. I just need a little bit more time. I’m still figuring this out.”

“Yeah, I know. You deserve to take the time you need, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured in any way.” Her hand on your thigh gives you a gentle squeeze, sending tiny feelings of electricity up between your legs.

You respond with silence, not quite knowing where to take the conversation, but also just falling into a comfortable silence with the girl next to you. As you both lay, you lean your head over, resting it on her shoulder. The two of you lay in silence, admiring the display in the sky above you.

“This has been really nice.” Jessie says rolling over on her side to look at you. You keep your eyes trained on the sky, looking at the stars. “Thank you for showing me this.” She puts a kiss on your cheek before shifting to lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming to wrap around your waist.

You feel your face rush with heat at the feeling of her kiss. You couldn’t believe something simple from her, like a peck on the cheek still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach. “You know it’s been three months technically since our first date, and one month since we agreed to be girlfriends?”

“I did.” Jessie lets out a little sigh. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to make it a big deal or not, people are different, we hadn’t really done anything for month one or two, so I wasn’t sure if you maybe weren’t a monthly anniversary person or not.

“I wasn’t sure if you were, that’s why I haven’t been saying anything.”

“So we’ve just been not acknowledging it.” Jessie laughs softly as she speaks.

“Yeah I guess.” You shrug.

You feel Jessie shift on the blanket, she lifts her head momentarily.“I’ve had a really nice three months with you.”

“Me too babe.” You both share a smile before Jessie leans up toward you, her lips finding yours.

As you kiss you can almost feel a shift. One you can’t quite place but the way she kissed you, felt deeper, more passionate, her tongue running against yours felt dirtier, in a way that made you want more. Before you can get too carried away you find yourself pulling back. You wanted it, but not on a blanket, on a rock, in the middle of somewhat secluded woods.

“Um, so it’s almost eleven, I promised I’d have you home by midnight.”

“Right…” Jessie says. “I mean, we do have film and recovery tomorrow. Should probably get at least some sleep.” Both of you groan as you stand up, not wanting to leave the peaceful night you had created, but you knew you had to.

After the short drive home you found yourself parking your car outside of your own place, instead of Jessie’s. “Sorry, I’ll drop you off in a second, I forgot something for you, I meant to grab it earlier.”

“Of course, no problem.”

“Unless you wanted to come upstairs?” It was an innocent enough question you posed to Jessie, but both of you knew it likely had a less than innocent underlying meaning.

You had been more physical on your date tonight than most. Your hands had constantly been finding ways to touch Jessie. Your hand in hers, your hand on her thigh, hand on her back, your fingers running through her hair, and she was returning the favor, her hands running down your side as she had rested with her head on your chest.

“Yeah, if you want me to?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Plus, tomorrow is just film and recovery, if we’re a little sleepy, it’ll be alright.” You end the sentence with a slight smirk on your face. The two of you made quick work of getting out of your car and she followed you up to your building.

You initiated it. The second the two of you made it through the door, your lips found Jessie’s, kissing her hard, not wasting any time before you let your tongue slide against her lips. Hands on her hips you urge her to move backward in the direction of your bedroom.

You poured years of self hatred and denial into the kiss, you were finally getting what you had always wanted deep down. The feelings you had suppressed for years poured out as the two of you made your way into the bedroom.

You reach the bed, finally breaking your kiss and you climb onto it as Jessie stands at the side, watching you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Not having to think twice you reassure her with an enthusiastic nod, it felt right, tonight was the night. You had no idea what you were doing, but excitement filled your stomach.

“Okay, just tell me if you change your mind.” Jessie says as she climbs onto the bed next to you, situating herself between your thighs.

Leaning down, she covers your body with her own, her lips making their way back to yours and the two of you spend time kissing. You slowly become used to the feeling of her body on yours, it's new, but you liked it, your hands hold her sides as her own hold her above you. Every slight shift of her weight you can feel, the longer you kiss her the more restless you become. You can feel the way her hips softly rock against yours. For a moment you’re in heaven.

You can feel your head start to spin as she kisses the side of your neck. The feeling you're experiencing is one you’re unable to put into words, a mix of uncertainty and excitement fill your system. Feeling bold in your movements you let your hands pick at the edges of Jessie’s shirt, your fingers just barely touching her bare skin underneath. She sits back, breaking away her lips from your skin and you watch as she puts her arms up.

“Go ahead.” She nods with a smile down to you and you slowly pull the shirt up and over her head. You let your eyes trail down her body, pausing a little too long at her chest, still covered in a sports bra. It was a view you had seen hundreds of times in the locker room but this was different. This wasn’t seeing her change into her kit for a game, this wasn’t her changing after practice. She was undressing for you. That made it different.

You’re enjoying the attention she’s giving to your neck and lips, until her hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and you feel her begin to gently pull on it. She doesn’t quite make a move to take it off of you yet, but you know that’s what she’s teasing at, her fingers creeping further under your shirt. That’s when your stomach feels like a sinking rock, it finally sets in what the two of you were doing. She was going to be naked, you were going to be naked. She’d be seeing every inch of you. You hadn’t done anything like this before, before Jessie you’d hardly made out with anyone.

As her fingertips graze the band of your bra the feeling in your stomach grows and for a moment you’re worried you’ll be sick. “Hang on Jess.” You’re able to whisper out and you almost regret it as you feel her lips pull away from your sensitive skin.

“Are you okay?” Jessie pulls back looking at your face, her fingers still touching under your shirt.

“Uh.” You try to find your voice, the words to tell her. Feeling frozen you just look at her. When she moves her fingers slightly you jump under her touch. Jessie now looks concerned as she looks down at you. You feel like you could cry in the moment, the lump in your throat starting to feel impossible to swallow.

“We can stop.” Jessie offers sweetly.

“No Jess, it's fine.” You quickly find the words trying to convince her and yourself that you’re okay. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Jessie stays still, her hands still resting on either side of your abdomen, you hope she can’t feel how uneven your breathing is, or just how hard your heart is beating. “I can tell you’re nervous, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you were. Tucking your head down to avoid her eyes, you can feel them burning into the crown of your head. The heat rising on your cheeks makes this feel even more embarrassing. “I’ve just, I’ve never, and I don’t, I mean, I’m just not sure.” You manage to mumble out.

Jessie doesn’t say anything initially, but you feel her fingers slide out from under your shirt, resting on your thighs that were still wrapped around her waist. “Hey, it’s okay.” She begins rubbing slow strokes up and down your shorts, comforting you. Her right hand leaves your thigh and finds your own hand, gently interlacing your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks slightly and you can feel the tears welling up, blinking hard a couple escape and roll down your cheek. “I thought I was ready.”

“It’s okay, look at me.” Jessie politely requests. You turn your head, giving her a quick glance before shying away again. “Please,” it’s a gentle ask and you do as she says, making eye contact with her for just a moment before your eyes fall to your lap again, “I don't care, I mean, I do obviously, I care about you. I just mean, if you’re ever not ready, not comfortable, we’re not going to do anything.”

“I want to, I promise, I want to have sex with you, just, I don’t know, it’s still all new.” You couldn’t quite put into words the feelings you were having, uneasy, anxious, and yet excited, all flooding your system making you feel unwell.

“That’s okay.” Jessie swings her legs over yours, sitting down on the bed next to you, she reaches for her own previously discarded shirt pulling it over her head quickly before returning her focus to you. “You don't need a reason, and it's also okay to just not be ready.”

You just nod. You stay staring ahead, where Jessie used to sit, now your eyes fell across the room on the empty wall. An unsettling feeling still in your stomach, you just wanted it to go away. Your brain felt like it was ready to explode and yet it was silent at the same time, having no idea how to process the emotions you went through.

You’re not sure how long it’s been when Jessie speaks again. “Do you want me to go? I can leave if you need some space, Or I can stay, it’s your choice, whatever will make you comfortable.”

You hardly had to think before you knew the answer “Stay?”

“Of course.” Jessie says, you can almost feel her relax into the bed slightly. She moves around, covering herself with the throw blanket that rested on your bed.

“You’re not mad?” Finally having the courage to speak, you ask, slightly terrified of what the answer might be.

“Why would I be mad?” She turns looking at you with a hint of sadness in her expression.

“I don’t know. I mean I started it, I made it seem like we were going to, ya know.” Your hands play with the blanket.

“I’ll never be mad at you for saying no, no one should ever get mad at you for that.” Her hand finds yours, encouraging you to stop fidgeting with the blanket. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You turn, swinging your legs off the bed. “I’m going to get ready for bed, I have an extra toothbrush if you still want to spend the night.”

“Yeah, only if you’re sure?”

“I am, feel free to grab clothes from my dresser, if you wanted something besides what you’ve got on.” You point over where your dresser was against the wall. Jessie nods then moves toward the dresser opening a few drawers before finding your t-shirts. She looks through a few and then holds one up. M

“Cool if I take this one?” She holds it up to you. You nod before heading into the bathroom. While you’re rummaging through your closet to find the packaged toothbrush for Jessie she joins you, your shirt now across her chest and one of your favorite pairs of sweats on her legs. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at the sight of her in your clothes.

“Here ya go.” You hand her the toothbrush and she walks to your sink. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” Quickly throwing on sweatpants and a shirt of your own you return to the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before heading back toward your bed.

Jessie is standing at the foot of it, looking at you. “Do you have a side preference?” You shake your head before moving to the closest side of the bed, lifting the covers and beginning to climb in, you reach over setting an alarm for the morning. Jessie gets the idea and moves to the other side, putting her phone on the bedside table and climbing in as well.

You’d never slept next to anyone in a romantic way. Sure you’d shared beds with teammates before but never a teammate that you also kissed, and hugged, and lov-, really liked. You feel your face heating up at the near confession that just happened in your brain.

Despite the darkness of your room, Jessie somehow could see right through you. “Just lay how you normally would, pretend I’m not here.” Following her instructions you roll off your back and onto your side, facing away from Jessie. “There ya go.” Staring at the rest of your bedroom you can’t see, but feel the bed shift as Jessie moves around. “Is it okay if I lay behind you?”

“Yeah go ahead.” As you give her permission, Jessie moves and you suddenly feel her legs against yours before her chest is against your back.

“Can I put my arm around you?” Instead of verbally answering, you reach an arm of your own back, finding Jessie’s wrist and pulling her forward so her arm draped across your middle. “You comfortable?” She checked in with you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” That was mostly the truth, you were more comfortable than before, and Jessie’s body against yours was a welcomed warmth, but that didn’t mean it calmed your mind fully. Your mind was still thinking about how it had felt to have Jessie on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist as she ever so slightly had rolled her hips, how it felt for her hands to be under your shirt, how her lips felt on your neck, and while you had loved all those things, you couldn’t stop thinking about how embarrassed you felt.

Here you were, an adult, still terrified of physical intimacy. You wanted it, you just couldn’t. It made it all too real. “I’m sorry.” It’s a weak apology from you that has Jessie immediately shushing in your ear.

She places a kiss to your shoulder and tightens her grip on your waist. “Go to sleep babe, nothing to be sorry for.”

[faithshouseofchaos]

Please write about the shy reader and Kimi Raikkonen ❤️

Out of the shadows— Kimi Raikkonen x reader

Word count — 750

Fluff

The paddock was alive with the usual chaos—mechanics rushing to and fro, journalists shouting over each other, and fans clamoring for attention. Y/N stood awkwardly near the Ferrari garage, clutching her team lanyard like it was her only anchor in the storm of noise around her. She hated crowds. The constant hum of voices, the flashes of cameras, the feeling of being watched—it was all too much. But today, she’d promised herself she would try. Try to be more like the others—confident, outgoing, able to handle it all.

Her resolve was crumbling with every passing moment.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking for a quiet place to retreat when she heard a familiar voice.

“Why are you hiding here like a scared rabbit?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned quickly to see Kimi Räikkönen standing just a few steps away, holding a cup of coffee. He stood there in his usual casual way—arms loosely crossed, face impassive, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His presence was effortless.

“I’m not hiding,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down, fiddling with her lanyard. “Just… observing.”

“Observing?” Kimi repeated, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. He took a slow sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact. “From the shadows?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she bit her lip. “I… I just don’t like crowds.”

His gaze softened ever so slightly, but his tone remained as blunt as ever. “Neither do I,” he said.

She blinked. “But you’re always out there—racing, talking to the media…” Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish. Kimi never seemed to care about the constant attention. How could he be so composed?

Kimi’s eyes flickered to the bustling scene around them, but he didn’t look stressed, didn’t flinch. “Talking?” he repeated, his lips curling into something close to a grin. “No. I say what I need to, then I leave. Simple.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, processing his words. “You’re… different,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Everyone’s different,” he replied with a shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. “You think too much about what people think. Waste of time.”

She laughed softly, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him despite herself. She had expected more sarcasm, more indifference. But there was a strange clarity in the way Kimi spoke. He wasn’t trying to be profound, but every word seemed to cut through the noise.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said quietly. “I guess it’s easier for you.”

Kimi’s gaze softened just a touch as he regarded her, but his voice remained unaffected. “You think I don’t care?” he asked. “I care about what matters. I care about racing. But the rest of it?” He waved a hand in the direction of the media frenzy. “Pointless. Why stress about it?”

She found herself smiling—slowly, hesitantly—at his nonchalance. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He gave a single, short laugh—no warmth, just blunt amusement. “You overthink everything. You should laugh more. Better than all that worrying.”

Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease, if only a little. She glanced away, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. “I’ll try,” she said softly, not used to this kind of easy back-and-forth.

Kimi didn’t respond immediately, instead finishing his coffee before casually nodding toward the garage entrance. “Come on,” he said. “You don’t have to talk to anyone, just stand there. They’ll leave you alone.”

She hesitated, glancing at the noisy crowd, then back at him. Something about the way he said it—the matter-of-factness, the certainty—made her want to trust him.

She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “Okay,” she said, surprised at how easily the word slipped out.

They walked side by side toward the garage. The sounds of the paddock faded as she followed Kimi—no words passed between them, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the constant pressure of expectations. Kimi’s presence was quiet but steady, and though he didn’t say anything more, she didn’t need him to.

It was a strange feeling, to be standing there beside him, surrounded by noise, and yet, for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N realized—maybe it wasn’t so terrifying, stepping out of the shadows after all.

[bullet-prooflove]

Haunted: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader (feat: Mike Franks)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.

Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.

Wait It Out - You and Gibbs wait out a threat to your saftey.

All Dressed Up - You and Gibbs have a frank conversation about an office event.

Right Here - You come home to find Gibbs waiting for you on your doorstep.

Revelations - Gibbs is surprised to discover a connection between you and Mike Franks.

There are three cases that haunt Mike Franks.

The Gibbs case, the Larsen case and your sister’s case, the one that was never his to begin with. After all they don’t let special agents investigate the death of someone close to them, especially not the woman that was about to become your spouse.

It hadn’t stopped Mike from hounding the agents that were working the case, sifting through their files or surveying their interviews from the opposite side of the interrogation room window.

It had earned him a suspension, forced bereavement leave they called it.

He’d checked out for a while after that, booze, fights, the whole nine yards. You’d bailed him out more than a handful of times because you couldn’t let the man who had loved your sister throw away his life or his career.

He gets his shit together just in time for the funeral, then spirals again right after.

“She wouldn’t want this for you.” You tell him one night as the two of you sit in your living room trying to regroup. He’s clasping an ice pack to his knuckles from another fight and you’re stitching up the cut above his eye from some asshole’s class ring. “It’s time to put on your big boy pants and start doing the shit she fell in love with you for instead of this nonsense.”

“You don’t understand.” He finds himself saying, his voice raw as the thread tugs tightly, pulling the edges of the wound together. “It’s like I have all this rage, all this emotion but there’s no where for it to go, no one to blame…”

Because they haven’t found the man that brutalised Violet and that case, it just gets colder every day.

“And you Maeve, you just don’t seem to feel a damn thing.”

“That’s because I don’t.” You tell him frankly, sniping the tail off the stitches before sitting down on the coffee table so you can meet his gaze. “I’ve been empty ever since the day they’d found her dead.”

And that’s when he realises you’re depressed.

You’ve spent all this time looking out for him…

And he’s done jack shit for you.

He makes you a promise that night, while he’s sprawled out on your couch. He’ll do whatever he can to pull you out of this fog because he knows where that numbness leads.

You don’t have a gun so he guesses it’ll be slit wrists in a bathtub or a handful of pills down your throat. They’re usually ladies choice.

So he gets his shit together, goes back to work, starts making an effort. He makes sure to check in on you, get you out of the house, dinner, drinks, walks with Gary. You start to come back to the world again and so does he.

It’s when he starts to date again that things hit a speed bump. The moment you see him with another woman, it’s like a flip switches inside you because you realise Mike can just move on, find someone else to take up the position that Violet filled in his life but you can’t, you can’t replace your sister.

The fight you have that night, it’s the first time you’ve exhibited any emotion about Violet’s death. You scream, you shout, you throw crockery and Mike, he just takes it because this is what he’s been waiting for, the moment you admit to yourself that Violet’s gone, that she’s never coming back.

You get distant after that, colder. When he approaches you a few weeks later you make it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him. As far as you’re concerned any personal connection between the two of you died with your sister.

It wounds him in a way he doesn’t care to admit but he respects your wishes because he understands that this, this is how you move on.

Now he’s sitting in your office, on the opposite side of your desk because the probie, he’s been digging through your sister’s case and he thinks he’s found something, and Mike kinda thinks he has too. He just needs you to make sure.  

“They never found her engagement ring.” Mike tells you, his elbows coming to rest upon your desk as he leans forward, his hands clasped together on top of the blue folder he’s placed there. “I was too fucked up to notice at the time. Is there any chance you have it?”

It’s a distinctive piece. An aquamarine stone set amongst a couple of diamonds in a silver band. It had cost him a couple of months salary but it had been worth it at the time because that gem, it had been the exact colour of Violet’s eyes.

“No.” You say softly, your eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “I thought you’d kept it afterwards as a keepsake.”

He sees the realisation hit you, about what must have happened to that ring. He knows it’s like a gut punch because that’s exactly the way that he felt when Gibbs asked him the question. The other man had spent hours trawling through those evidence logs trying to locate it. Mike has to give him his due diligence, he’s spotted something nobody else did, even though he wasn’t supposed to be working the case.

“You think that son of a bitch took it?” You ask him. There’s a dangerous lilt in your voice, one he recognises from the last time the two of you were in the same proximity.

“I do.” He says and he watches you literally bite your tongue in order to stop yourself from cursing out the assholes who clearly dropped the fucking ball with Violet’s case. They’ve moved on now, retired, he’d had Gibbs and Lala check in because he didn’t trust himself not to tear them a new one.

“What does that mean?” You ask him, agitated. “That she was a victim of a serial? Those guys like to take trophies right?”

“Actually, we’re thinking a little more close to home.” He says as he pushes the blue folder towards you with his fingertips. “I got Strickland to put together a profile. I wanted to see if it fit anyone from back then, someone that was in her life, maybe someone I didn’t know…”

There’s a reluctance in you, he sees it. The thing is this folder, it’s a grenade. It has the power to tear your whole life apart and you’re just getting back on your feet, you’re just starting to climb out of that hole you’ve been trapped in for so fucking long.

“I still dream about her Maeve,” He tells you with a tremor in his voice. “I’m with someone else, in love with her but Violet’s ghost, it still haunts me.”

Your hands are shaking when you open the folder, you swallow hard against the ache in your chest as you study the words written in Strickland’s neat scrawl. Age, behaviours, job description. It’s like you’re seeing him clear as day, leaping up at you from between the pages.

“Maeve…” Mike says as he studies the expression on your face. “Do you know him?”

There’s an agony in you, it’s excruciating because this son of a bitch, he still visits your sister’s grave. He puts white lilies against the headstone, every birthday and Christmas because they were friends, such good fucking friends.

“Yea.” You say, your voice devoid of emotion as your gaze sweeps up to meet Mike’s. “I fucking do.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[robynhoodwrites]

❆❆Zayne x Reader x Xavier❆❆

Written upon recommendation! This is written in first person from the readers POV. Contains smut, but begins with fluff :) All three characters are in a pre-established relationship, and the main character is written AFAB, but is referred to with they/them pronouns.

Minors DNI! This writing contains the following themes: slight offscreen injury (it's not that bad I promise), all three characters are switches (Xavier = heavy bottom lean, Zayne = heavy top lean), oral sex, threesome, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, hand jobs, and praise.

"Hey, can you hear me? Hello?” I hear a distant, echoing voice yell. I can barely see, my vision blurry as I come back into consciousness. I feel an ache in my lungs, my chest feeling slightly tight as I grip the bed sheets beneath me.

 Bedsheets? Wasn’t I just out fighting a wanderer with Xavier? The wanderer had been tough, releasing bubbles that exploded if not popped in a certain amount of time.

“Hey, you okay?” I hear the worried voice ask, my eyes finally focusing on the person above me. His silvery hair is shining under the bright fluorescent light above us, his eyes filled with a look of anxiety. The room finally comes into focus, and I start to notice all of the medical equipment surrounding me.

“What happened?” I ask, slowly rising in bed and rubbing my eyes. Xavier steadies me by grabbing my shoulders and leaning me against the back of the elevated hospital bed.

“One of Snoozer’s bubbles popped right next to you. Knocked you out cold,” Xavier almost whispers, his hand rising to brush a strand of hair out of my face. “You didn’t seem to get injured at all, you just kind of… passed out.”

His fingers remain on my face, cradling my cheek as we stare into each other’s eyes. I feel the stiffness leave his body as he sighs, the worry being lifted off of him at my awakening. A small smile creeps onto his lips, his hand still resting warmly on my cheek.

The sliding door to the room opens suddenly, causing me to flinch at the sudden intrusion. Xavier just calmly looks towards the doorway, a tall and dark-haired man walking into the room and towards the two of us.

“Zayne? You’re still working this late?” I ask, smiling slightly at the sight of such a familiar face. The man does not smile, moving to my side and putting a thermometer in my mouth. It beeps and Zayne takes the machine out of my mouth, sighing before finally looking down at my face.

“I was just getting off my shift when they wheeled you in. Decided to put in some overtime so I could be the one to check on you,” He mutters, writing something down in his notebook and closing it with a snap.

“To check on me, or to scold me?” I mutter, already feeling the sour attitude radiating off of him. I hear a small chuckle rise from Xavier’s throat, and he claps a hand over his mouth before it can reach the surface.

“A little bit of that, too. How could you be so reckless?” He asks, his tone stern. He puts his gloved hand over mine lovingly, but his gaze is still stony. “You didn’t know what was in that bubble! It could have been poisonous for all you know!”

“What was in that bubble?” Xavier asks, resting his chin on his hands in the chair next to my bed. Zayne shoots him a stony glare, and Xavier raises both his hands in a defensive manner.

“It was just a simple sedative, but that’s not the point! They could have been gravely injured,” he sighs, rubbing his temples in frustration. “I know that it’s your job, but please proceed with a bit more caution next time. You scared me,” he says softly, his eyes darting back to mine with a hint of worry in them.

A bit of warmth fills my cheeks, my eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise. I can’t believe the stoic Dr. Zayne was worried about me this much! “I’m sorry, Zayne. I’ll be more careful next time,” I say softly, my thumb rubbing over his hand affectionately.

“Do you have any worrying symptoms?” Zayne asks, flipping through my chart and writing little notes here and there. I quickly scan my body, searching for any odd pains or aches.

“Honestly, I’m just tired. Nothing besides that,” I state, and Zayne closes his notebook with a sigh of relief. I feel a squeeze on my arm, Xavier’s hand resting softly on my forearm in encouragement.

“Since it was just a sedative and you have no unnatural symptoms, you are released from the hospital. I will be driving the two of you home,” he says, patting my leg and smoothing down some bits of Xavier’s hair before walking into the hospital hallway.

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The car rumbles softly beneath me, my exhausted body strewn across the backseats as I try and get some rest. Zayne drives slowly and carefully, both his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

“Let me hold your hand,” Xavier mutters to him, trying to coax one of his muscular hands off of the steering wheel. Zayne shoos his hand away, focusing on the road. “Hey!” Xavier whines, his arms crossing in front of him.

“You’re not supposed to drive with only one hand on the wheel,” Zayne begins, a stern look on his face. Such a stickler for the rules. “And I’m not happy with you either, you know. You let them get hurt!” Xavier gives him a fake frown, his puppy dog eyes baring into Zayne’s cold ones. Finally, after a moment, Zayne relents to Xavier and rubs his thumb along the outside of Xavier’s hand.

We sit like this for a while, Zayne and Xavier holding hands while I rest comfortably in the back. Then, after the tell-tale bump of the car going into park, I realize we’ve arrived at our apartment.

Xavier lets me rest against his shoulder as we walk through the parking lot, and I smile as I lean into the heat of his body. Zayne walks in front of us, his body still tense from the frustration he felt earlier. He holds the door open, flicking the lights on and ushering us into the apartment.

Xavier begins leading me to the couch, but Zayne intervenes. “They needs more rest. Let’s have them lay in the bedroom,” he says, lightly putting a hand on Xavier's back and leading us farther into the apartment.

Once I am finally lying comfortably in my bed, Zayne begins to leave the room. Before he can leave his space beside me, I grab his wrist. He turns, a soft look finally replacing the cold one he has had since the hospital. “Where are you going?” I ask, slightly pleading with my voice.

“I’m getting you water,” Zayne begins, but Xavier walks in with a cup full of water and places it on the bedside table next to me. Xavier smiles mischievously at Zayne before leading him over to the bed.

“Now you have no excuse not to stay here and cuddle,” Xavier says, pinching Zayne’s cheek affectionately and patting the empty space on the bed. Zayne sighs and lays down, the two of them sandwiching me and wrapping their arms around me carefully.

Zayne, though facing me, is avoiding eye contact. He looks down at his hand instead, which is rubbing against my arm comfortingly. “Zayne, are you still mad?” I ask, my voice nearly a whisper. His eyes shoot up to mine, his hand moving from my arm to my chin.

“I was never mad at you, sweetie. I was just worried. When I saw them wheeling you in, I imagined the worst possible things that could have happened to you…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence. The look in his eyes is enough for me to imagine how he must have felt.

“Xavier was worried, too. He almost started bawling, the poor guy,” Zayne says jokingly, and Xavier playfully hits him in the arm. I turn my head to face Xavier, my heart jumping slightly in my chest.

“I didn’t wanna scold them over it. You were doing a good enough job for the both of us!” Xavier jokes to Zayne, but a small glint of sadness in his eyes tells me that what Zayne said is true. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest at the thought of how worried these boys must have been.

“Please don’t feel guilty, though. You were just doing your job, and we know it isn’t your fault that you got hurt,” Xavier says, spotting the look of guilt on my face. I sigh a little bit in relief, but there is still a bit of guilt lingering in the pit of my stomach. “Just don’t ever worry us like that again.”

“I’m sorry guys,” I say softly, a small frown spreading across my face. Zayne tilts my head over to his, using his thumb to playfully wipe the frown off of my face. His gaze lingers for a moment on my lips, his finger trailing over the bottom one lightly. He snaps out of it, his hand leaving my face and going back to resting lightly in mine.

A shiver runs down my spine, that gesture alone being enough to turn me on. How can someone be so unintentionally hot? I find myself blushing, flustered even though we’ve already been dating for a few months now. I just can’t ever get used to how amazing he makes me feel.

I feel Xavier chuckle lightly, his warm breath tickling my neck. He’s already caught on to what I’m feeling, tracing small circles onto my arm. Zayne still looks oblivious, too busy admiring my face to notice how flustered I am. I separate my hand from Zayne’s, placing it on his chest before slowly trailing it downwards.

His eyes widen, his hand stopping mine just before it reaches its final destination. “You need to rest, I don’t want to make you feel worse-” He begins, but my hand shoots up to cover his mouth.

“I feel great. I was tired, but that nap in the car gave me all the energy I need,” I whisper, my hand resuming its place on his lower abdomen. He hesitates for a moment before slowly nodding in response, a glint of excitement sparkling in his eyes. I feel a sudden poke in my ass, Xavier already getting slightly hard just from watching.

A smirk plays across my face, my body rolling over to face Xavier. My eyes meet his, and I notice a small look of desperation flitting across his face. “Someone’s already excited, and we haven’t even done anything yet,” I hear Zayne whisper from behind me, his hand idly tracing up and down my arm in a nauseatingly slow, teasing motion.

I feel my body heat up, a small warmth beginning to pool in my pajama pants. “Just a bit of simple touch and the two of you are already all worked up,” Zayne whispers, already proud of his effect on us. Xavier then turns to look at him, the pleading look in his eyes making Zayne groan.

“You made this poor thing worry about you. Why don’t you show him how sorry you are?” Zayne purrs in my ear, his erection now firmly pressing against me. I only nod in response, climbing on top of Xavier and beginning to unbuckle his pants.

Xavier attempts to speak, but Zayne cuts him off with a swift kiss. A moan leaves Xavier’s mouth instead, his hand running through Zayne’s hair. I manage to get his pants off, leaving only a pair of boxers between myself and his dick.

I slowly pull down on the fabric, watching Xavier’s length spring up to meet me. I take it in hand, pausing before moving any further. “You ready, Xav?” I ask, and he lets out a whimper. Finally, he breaks from his kiss with Zayne to look at me, practically pleading with his eyes.

“Please,” Xavier whines, before his lips are swallowed up by Zayne again. I slowly take his tip in my mouth, licking the little dots of precum that line it. He moans again, muffled by Zayne’s mouth clashing with his. I feel my eyes close, my head moving further down his shaft at an agonizing rate.

Zayne takes his mouth off of Xavier's, trailing kisses down his neck instead. “As much as I love your lips, I need to hear you. I need to hear the way you beg for more,” Zayne whispers, finding a place in the crook of Xavier’s neck to bite down on lightly. Xavier whimpers, the mix of sensations being a little too much for him.

I move faster down his length, using my hands to massage the parts that I can’t fit in my mouth. I feel Zayne adjust his position, and open my eyes to find that he has left Xavier entirely. Xavier just throws his head back, still caught up in the feeling of my ministrations.

I feel a sudden chill as my pajama pants are pulled down, leaving my bottom half bare as my clothes are stripped from me. Zayne had moved behind me while I was focusing on Xavier, now grabbing my ass tightly. “You were doing such a good job. I couldn’t help myself,” he mutters, his hand trailing down towards my heat.

A single finger swipes across my clit, a moan escaping from my mouth and onto Xavier’s dick. This vibration is all he needs to finally finish, his hips thrusting up into my mouth as he spasms from pure pleasure. Strings of his warmth shoot into the back of my throat, another moan leaving Xavier’s lips as his cock twitches in my mouth.

I attempt to help Xavier clean up his mess, but one of Zayne’s fingers pushes its way into me. I moan again, my attempts to clean Xavier becoming futile as the strength leaves my upper body. Zayne takes his finger out for only a second, flipping me over so that I am lying with my back on top of Xavier.

Xavier just cradles me in his arms, moving my legs farther apart so that Zayne can continue his work. Xavier wrenches my shirt off, his arms crawling up my hips slowly. At the same time that Xavier’s hands meet my breasts, Zayne’s tongue meets my clit.

A feeling like a jolt of electricity shoots through me, the pleasure of both sensations making me writhe below the two of them. “Hold still, you’re doing such a great job,” Xavier whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. He tweaks my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the sensation causing another moan to escape my lips.

Zayne continues lapping at my clit, now pumping two fingers in and out of me and rubbing against my walls sensually. I feel the pressure start to build in my stomach, the nearing orgasm making a whimper escape my lips. “Please, come for me,” Xavier whispers in my ear yet again. I feel myself reaching my peak, a string of curses flowing from my mouth as I ride Zayne’s face. Xavier’s lips meet mine, scraping my bottom lip lightly with his teeth.

“Think you can handle more?” Zayne asks the two of us, and I can’t find the words to respond.

“Always,” Xavier answers, looking down at me for my answer. I just nod, gasping when Xavier flips me over onto my hands and knees. My ass is to Xavier, with my face hanging over the edge of the bed where Zayne is now standing. He begins to unbuckle his belt; his shirt having already come off when he stood up earlier.

Xavier lines himself up with my entrance, teasing my folds by rubbing his head along them slowly. An eager moan escapes my lips, trying to back up onto his dick myself. He just pulls away, chuckling to himself in a low tone. Zayne is finally fully naked in front of me, his dick dripping in precum as he taps its head against my closed lips.

I eagerly open my mouth, taking in his dick hungrily and swirling my tongue around the tip. I feel Xavier slowly move into me, letting out a deep groan at the feeling of my tight walls around him. Zayne curses, his hand finding its place in my hair as he moves deeper into my mouth.

The two of them move in sync, pushing in and out of me at equal speeds as I feel more warmth pool in my already aching pussy. “Fuck, you have no idea how good you feel,” Xavier whines, thrusting even faster into me. Zayne moans in agreement, pulling harder at my hair as he helps guide my head up and down his length.

Xavier’s firm hands grip my hips, angling me so that he can thrust even deeper into me. I moan onto Zayne’s cock, my fingers gripping tightly into the bedsheets below me. Xavier moves faster, his twitching cock telling me that he is already about to cum.

Zayne seems to realize, too. He carefully takes his cock out of my mouth, moving away from me and towards Xavier. I can’t even argue, the pleasure from Xavier so strong and constant that the only noise I can make is a moan.

Xavier finally reaches his peak, pulling out of me to finish onto my ass. Zayne wraps his hand around Xavier’s cock, pumping as he shoots ropes onto me. Xavier throws his head back, a loud groan echoing throughout the room.

“Such a good job,” Zayne purrs, licking the mess that Xavier left on my ass. When he finishes, he flips me over onto my back yet again, not hesitating before thrusting himself into me aggressively. I let out a yelp, a mix of both pain and pleasure filling me in an instant.

He thrusts in and out of me at immense speed, obviously longing for release as much as I am. Xavier lies down next to me, breathing heavily from his orgasm. He runs his fingers along my breasts, squeezing them like a stress toy in his hands.

Zayne continues thrusting, one of his fingers reaching down to rub circles along my clit. All of the pleasure building in me finally bursts, my legs shaking as my walls clench around Zayne’s cock. He moans, his orgasm also quickly arriving now that I am tighter around him.

“Xavier,” he moans, calling the man over to him longingly. Xavier immediately sits up, opening his mouth as Zayne quickly pulls out of me. He sticks his already-leaking dick into Xavier’s mouth, throwing his head back as a deep moan escapes his lips.

Xavier swallows, licking a little bit of excess off of his lips, before collapsing next to me on the bed. Zayne joins, the three of us relaxing in each other’s warmth as our bodies twitch from pleasure. Zayne traces circles on my stomach, his chest heaving with each breath as he recovers from his orgasm.

Xavier pushes his naked body against mine, enveloping me in his warmth as he spoons me. “Was that a good enough apology?” I ask, my eyes meeting Zayne’s.

“It was perfect. Just don’t scare us again, and we can do this any time you like,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

“I like the sound of that,” Xavier mutters, before falling into a deep sleep. Zayne and I smile at him, our hands meeting as we both slowly fall asleep with him.

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And that's it for now! Thanks to whoever submitted the ask requesting this. Remember that I am open to requests as always, and thanks for reading :)

[supremechancellorrex]

Okay, then, it's online space, we can go back and forth forever as it's all public discourse and there's no such thing as trespassing. Please give me examples of Mai saying fascist rhetoric or looking down on other nations racially. Aside from her just existing as a FN character born on the wrong side of the border. "Zuko did x" is actually a good measure when there's a double standard. Funny enough, I've met even people who call Zuko fascist and dislike Zuko's redemption story as it ends up with him as an absolute monarch, who mishandles the Fire Nation colony problem and puts FN citizen interests above Earth Kingdom interest for much of the Promise. The word is hardly stirring in this fandom now. Others have called him an abuser for how controlling he was in the Beach in who Mai could talk to. And they tell me all of that is so apparent. It seems in some opinions Zuko is badly written, despite the feels and "kindness" conclusions.

Also with Sokka and Suki it is not a "false equivalence" because Sokka and Suki were friends and then lovers who meet up again and kissed in the Serpent's Pass after spending days together and that whole spiel about Yue, his first girlfriend. He rebuffs Ty Lee in the Crossroads of Destiny by saying he's "with Suki now". Sokka went into a fit of rage and cried in Day of Black Sun over Suki, yet he didn't think of her missing until Azula mentions it despite it being weeks. Then as soon as they meet up again Sokka tries to smooch her immediately. They are in a relationship, it goes without saying. This is the nature of Avatar. You could complain the relationship between Suki and Sokka is fast, it could also be complained that Sokka forgets about Suki for a long time despite being committed to her. Arguably makes Sokka seem rather callous if one is to ignore this is an episodic kid's show, same with Zuko.

As for your conjecture of "We're supposed to think", that's just your interpretation, a rather absolutist one, but the context, voice acting, body language/smiles and structuring of those scenes, including the quotes I have shared but you're free to watch them yourself, make it unlikely for quite a number of others, myself included. Since you've talked about what you hate, I'll tell you what I dislike in the fandom. Absolutist takes where everyone in the audience is told "We're supposed to" with no evidence provided. This is what Azula stans say, they say "We're supposed to sympathise with Azula", "We're supposed to see that she's an abuse victim child and not judge her at all", despite it just being their interpretation. Mai does not dismiss everything Zuko says, there are many times she tries to understand and comfort him in Book 3, and Zuko's actual reasons for leaving are stated in the show.

Zuko: "Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor... I couldn't drag her into it."

This is a protective measure for her, not "anti-war rhetoric" fears.

I think it's quite clear he didn't think she was going to do anything to him. He expresses no actual fear towards Mai at all. Even when he runs into her in the Boiling Rock, still no fear. It's because Mai and Zuko actually have a level of trust, because Mai has been often supportive of him despite a couple mistakes here and there. The more Zuko and Mai got to know each other in the show, the more time goes the more they ironed out problems like how most relationships work.

I also disagree with your accusations of how I allegedly "misconstrued" your argument when I actually think you misunderstand and misconstrue mine. You don't have to say someone doesn't need to be as bad as Ozai or Azula to be an abuser, although it's rather irrelevant, and I never said Mai's difficulty emoting was a good thing. Just like I would never say Zuko taking out his anger on others is a good thing, if we're talking about the relationship and responsibility. The funny thing is, Mai learns how to emote more and express herself. She even smiles more as the series progresses, she confronts Azula, she chooses Zuko over fear and bitterness. As for 'just "being human" and a teenage girl", think you restructured my sentence there, but regardless I never said Mai was perfect, there are reasons why, and I just don't believe it takes her out the running from having a relationship with Zuko just because they both have baggage or aren't perfect at communicating in every interaction. If you don't think Mai is "nasty", then why would Katara be supposedly justified in punching her in the throat and never liking her? I think the word is actually a good summary of your view of her, since you claim she's an "abuser" and "mean" to everyone, demanding a relationship with Zuko as if this is an entrapment case (despite Zuko clearly wanting the relationship as well and making his own decisions).

Zuko [surprised, happy]: 'Mai! You're okay! They let you out of prison?"

Mai : "My uncle pulled some strings. And it doesn't hurt when the new Fire Lord is your boyfriend."

Zuko: [happy, smiling] "So does this mean you don't hate me anymore?"

Look at Zuko's response, look at the context. Think we can take it that Mai isn't demanding anything here if they both know each other and what each other wants. Zuko is receptacle because he wants to be back with her, and she knows it, which is the context of the dialogue. It feels like you're forcing Mai into an aggressor/abuser role that doesn't fit her character. Mai herself is critiqued in the narrative for suppressing her emotions, and as the narrative continues we see her learn to express them more to the point she not only yells in the Beach but later goes against Azula. But Mai is never an abuser. Whether you appreciate this or not, these are canon scenes. You can argue bad writing, but it doesn't change that the writing is geared to Mai being a certain character, and that is likely not the one you're accusing her of, even with her earlier villain rep that felt rather mild in the narrative ultimately. She didn't even want to chase Katara and Sokka through slurry.

As for Ukano, guy hardly seems like a threat, Mai handled him and everyone easily while holding a toddler. Perhaps Mai didn't think Ukano would achieve much, or join with Azula, who was supposed to be in asylum. Do I think it's bad writing? Sure. Entire New Ozai Society is. Same with how I think Zuko regressing his character arc and getting advice from a genocidal maniac like Ozai is bad. At worst, they're just both muddled about their bad fathers and manipulated at times, Ukano plants doubts in Mai's mind in Smoke and Shadow (that undermine Maiko), Ozai plants doubts in Zuko in the Promise (that consequently undermine Maiko). Not sure how this adds to your Mai is an abuser narrative, Ukano and Ozai are a better fit for the blame by messing with their kids' feelings and relationship.

"I think Katara would get along with Azula/Mai because female solidarity!"

Cool. I think Katara would punch fascists in the throat.

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

dylric angst fanfic - part two

includes necro, noncon, hints of prey/predator, etc.

notes: rapist murder with a side of library necro suicide please! (yes so what if i used zero hour pictures for the banner…)

edit: ((if my phone corrects my shit one more time im gonna smash it…its SUPPOSED TO BE ZERO HOUR SMH…))

right to the end, just like a friend

i tried to warn you somehow

you had your way, now you must pay

im glad that youre sorry now

the hours had passed by quicker then dylan and eric could comprehend.

dylan had spent the whole night, sobbing into erics shoulder while he sat there and held him. it was the sweetest thing hes ever done for him.

until now.

they were dressed and ready to go. everything they needed to do was done, they were in their spots, and now all they had to do was wait for the bombs to go off in the cafeteria.

dylan stared at the building while everything was starting to hit him. this was really gonna happen, he was really gonna do this.

he was going to do this with his best friend and prove to everyone that they were gods - they decided who lived and who died for their mistakes.

he thinks to himself though that they shouldve gone off at this point.

he looked across the lot to eric, seeing him looking down at his watch and shaking his head. he looks up and then back down, cursing to himself.

he makes a quick move to grab the rest of what needed out of his car and dylan does as well once he sees it.

he had no idea what they were gonna do now - their plan revolved around the bombs, but as long as his friend had some semblance of a plan then he was fine with that.

eric walks his way over across the lot to dylan “cmon, vee, lets just get this over with - that freakin’ crap isnt gonna go off.” he was obviously annoyed, but he was gonna make the most out of this.

dylan nodded “yeah - yeah, alright.” is all he answered with before they both turned to head in.

-

they took care of everyone outside with ease, then dealt with everyone inside. it was going a little smoother then they expected it to, but it still had its faults.

they were split up for awhile too before they finally came back together and recuperated, ready for their next step.

however, dylan hadnt noticed any of the boys they were *really* after. they had taken care of who they wanted to except for them.

if they had stayed home today for whatever reason or had somehow escaped then this was totally ruined.

it made dylan nervous and frustrated - it made eric absolutely pissed.

he wasnt gonna go down without those fuckers going down with them - he promised dylan that it would be the last thing he does.

they walk through one of the hallways, glass cracking beneath their boots and blood making the floor slippery.

“have you seen them yet?” eric asked, looking over to dylan. he wasnt sure exactly what they looked like or who they were - he had a very vague idea, but it was hard to get any information from dylan about it.

the blonde shook his head “no, i havent. theyve gotta be around here somewhere - i thought i saw their cars in the lot.” he had remembered seeing the cars parked outside, but he couldve just been seeing things.

they both could tell how each other were feeling. eric could tell that dylan was on edge and was frustrated that he might not get to see them be taken down before his own death while dylan could tell that eric was pissed they were being pussies and not showing themselves - so much for being tough guys, huh?

“its fine, ill find them. dont worry,” eric reassured him, but paused “i promised you that.” he hesitated to say it and it came out all embarrassed, but it made dylan smile.

“thanks, reb.” he replied as they turned the corner.

the brunette was about to say something else, but as they rounded that corner they were face to face with who they were looking for.

there was four of them there. four muscular white guys who were jocks on the schools sports teams. they looked all tough and proud, but now they were about to be nothing.

they were trying to open one of the exit doors and as if it was some miracle from the god they didnt believe in, the door was jammed. it wouldnt open no matter how hard they tried.

it made eric snicker - natural selection, bitch, is what he thought.

the brunette looks to the other, seeing the blank look on his face and his stiff posture. that alone told him all he needed to know.

he walks right up ahead, checking his gun as he did so to make sure it was loaded.

“hey, assholes!,” he called over to them “turn around, let me get a good look at you!”

they each turn their heads, confused, but the confusion quickly turns to horror as they try harder to open the door.

“cmon, man, you dont gotta shoot us,” one of them speaks up, but he fails to sound manly and his voice shook “we didnt do shit to you!” he spat while his friends tried to tell him to lay off.

erics eyes narrowed, glaring while his finger hovered over the trigger “are you that retarded? didnt do anything?,” he laughed, turning his head to look at dylan who was a little further back “vodka, did these fags do something? or are we just making it up?”

dylan shakes his head as if to say they werent making it up. he swallowed hard.

“yeah? name one fuckin’ thing!” the other answered with quickly. he clearly wasnt too smart to be taunting like this.

dylan doesnt want to name anything. he doesnt want to describe what happened just for these sick fucks. he doesnt want to think about it more then he already has.

he hoped eric understood and he did.

he turned to look back at the other boys “you know what you did.” he hissed, respecting dylans obvious discomfort.

none of the boys say anything for a moment until one of them whispers something to the other.

“oh - oh, yeah! *you* guys!,” he laughed “i didnt do shit to *you*, harris, but maybe to that freak over there!,” he continued laughing as he pointed towards dylan - even his friends who were hesitant before seemed to giggle along with him “it was all just a joke, ya know, we didnt mean anything! way to get overdramatic like a girl!”

he just wouldnt shut up and even his friends joined in, saying snide remarks and insults.

the two of them just stared, listening to all of it. let them run their mouths and ruin this for themselves, they figured.

“youre such a pussy, klebold! making your little boyfriend fight for you? seriously? man up, shoot me like a fuckin’ man!”

that was it for eric. he raised his gun and pressed his finger down on the trigger - all hell broke loose again.

it was a symphony of screaming, bullets, and the click of his gun. it was music to his ears.

dylan on the other hand was in complete shock - like an animal almost. it was surreal to watch the boys who assaulted him be murdered right in front of him, especially by his best friend.

he didnt ever entertain thoughts like this, but, god was it hot.

he couldnt even think of a better way to say it - it was just *hot.*

eric looked so focused, so set on making sure each of them had enough lead put into them to last them their trip to hell. the way his shirt and pants clung to him - the sweat dripping down his forehead and arms - it was all so attractive.

he lets off the last couple of bullets, the hallway turning eerily quiet and peaceful besides the distant shrill of the fire alarm and police outside. they both stare at the mess of blood and bodies.

eric doesnt even realize when dylan finally walks up next to him, abruptly grabbing him by his face with both hands and placing his lips to his.

his eyes widened, completely caught off guard. he wasnt expecting anything like that at all - maybe just some shared words about how good it felt to do that, but not a kiss.

eric knew better, but it gave him a sick sense of power.

he just murdered his best friends rapists for him - it was almost like he owed him now.

he could be the hero and kill those guys, but that doesnt make him any better. he was a teenage boy with an obsession for power.

dylan pulled away less then a second later, clearly embarrassed “sorry, sorry,” it comes out quickly, ready to explain himself “you just - looked really good,” it comes out a little softer then he meant it to. theres a soft layer of blush that eric is just barely able to make out on his face “thank you, eric.”

they werent more then friends. thats what they thought, but there was always something - something between the two of them that extended far past the label of friendship. an underlying need.

even the events from the previous night theyd chalk up to close friendship, but it was more then that.

eric doesnt reply, but instead grabs the front of dylans shirt and pulls him back down, kissing him again.

the blonde is surprised, but he quickly reciprocates.

it was ironic how intimate this seemed considering their situation, but this was their last chance to ever do something like this. no one was here to judge them - it was just them and the end of their world.

they stay there like that without a care and its so oddly sweet, but erics own needs get the best of him.

he lets go of his friends shirt, but instead puts his hands on his hips - his nails dig in just the smallest bit.

however, dylan isnt a fan. it makes him a little uncomfortable - he was more then grateful for what he just did for him, but he wasnt trying to be like *that*.

he pulled away just a moment later, wiping away some of his spit with the back of his gloved hand.

the brunette is less then happy to have him pull away, but he doesnt say anything about it. he knew better - thats what he told himself.

“i think we should go.” the other broke their silence. the end was inevitable and they both knew it. they didnt want to say it outright, but they already knew what needed to be done.

“yeah,” eric answered back “im done with this crap anyway. we gave them what they were asking for - lets go.”

-

its a quiet walk down to the library aside from the occasional comment with laughter and the random firing of their guns.

they had did it - they accomplished the only goal they set out for themselves. they did what they had to do.

now it would be over - all the chaos and terror would come to an end and they would finally be set free from this hell they were born into.

now they were in the library, sitting on the floor together. they ran their plans over hundreds of times, but they never really seemed to go over this part.

they were both checking over their guns, making sure they were set and ready.

“we’re doing it together, right?” eric asked, earning a nod from dylan “yeah. should be easiest that way.”

the discussion of that stops there. there wasnt really much to be said. they were going to die no matter how they did it.

dylan goes to place the end of his gun to the roof of his mouth, but he paused, turning to his friend.

“thank you - you know, for everything,” the other turns his head as he speaks “you were a great friend, reb.” theres something so surreal about the way he says it - they never put any thought into what their last words would be, so for it to be something so genuine was odd.

the brunette smiled “yeah, you too, vee,” its so weird to hear anything nice come out of his mouth, but it happens anyway “guess we’ll see each other in hell, huh?” he laughed and so does the other. they could barely ever take themselves seriously.

“yeah, man. ill see you there.” he replied back through his laughing. it sounded like they were just joking around - like they hadnt just murdered people and were about to finish themselves.

the laughter dies down though, being their final sign to get things moving along.

dylan placed the gun where it needed to be, glancing over to eric as if to let him know he should do it too, which he does.

neither of them make a move - at least until the blonde turns his head away, finger over the trigger. his friend followed his actions, keeping a finger over the trigger as well.

only a moment later did eric hear the bang from the gun, followed by the thud of his friends body falling.

this was where he was supposed to pull the trigger - end whatever suffering he was supposedly going through, but something makes him hesitate.

he knows what hes supposed to do - he knows he shouldn’t look over and should just get this over with, but he cant help it when he pulls the gun away and looks over to dylan.

it was just about as graphic as he wouldve expected. his head was blown open and the blood was already making a mess on the floor - he noticed how some of the splatter even got on his arm.

it was definitely weird to see his friend that way, but he couldn’t seem to piece together any other emotions. it was just *weird.*

he looks away and puts the gun back to where it belongs. he had to get this over with and just be done with it - there was no other way out of it. however, again, something makes him hesitate.

thats until he hears what sounds like gagging and choking.

he moves the gun away again and looks back over, seeing now that dylan was choking on his own blood while his body seemed to twitch and convulse.

it was a bad shot - a terrible shot even. he shouldve aimed better, but eric couldnt look away.

he just stared and watched.

it was wrong - so, so wrong about what he thought of next. he still owed him - he owed him for killing those guys who had hurt him. he didnt want to be on the same level as those guys, but he was far past that now that hes killed their classmates and committed crimes of his own.

he quietly set his gun down on the floor, getting up and sitting right in between his thighs.

was he seriously going to do this? was he really going to be as sick and disgusting as those guys - if not worse? yes, he was.

he swallowed hard, reaching a hand up to unzip his pants and pull them down. hes greeted with pale, scarred skin and thin thighs. it was a little off putting - he wasnt a big fan of the scars, but he carried on anyway.

he knew he had to make this as quick as possible considering there probably wouldnt be a lot of time before the police arrived in the building. of course, he didnt know that it would take them as long as it really did, but he just had to make the assumption.

he quickly pulled down his boxers and barely gives himself a chance to look at him before he was already taking care of his own. he unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down just enough to take his cock out.

it was kind of disgusting how hard he already was. who knew all this murder and gore would get him so worked up.

eric readjusted their position, fixing the position of dylans legs and body, which was hard to do because of all the involuntary movement.

any thoughts of morality were thrown out the window at this point - there was no time for him to think about how wrong this was. he just had to do it. it was owed to him.

he lines up with the other, forcing himself in with a hiss. it was a tight fit - he wasnt welcomed here and he never would be. the groan it pulled out from dylan only proved that further.

he pulls back out, pushing back in and trying to get a pace started. its slow and rather awkward - he had never had sex with anyone before so he really only knew how to do this because of porn - and even that wasnt a great reference material when dylan didnt have a cunt like the girls he watched.

the brunette tries to make it work though, biting down on his lip as he forced himself in as far as he could go.

he would be lying if he said it didnt feel good. it felt *amazing.* maybe the blonde really did feel that good or maybe the situation made it better. he had no idea and he would never know.

he holds onto his hips for more leverage, trying to build up a better, quicker pace. it works somewhat - his own precum starting to make the slide bearable and easy.

he pulled another noise from the boy on the floor once he started to go faster, listening to his continued gagging and groaning. it was like he was aware, but just not quite.

it didnt matter though, he was gonna finish one way or another.

shame starts to creep its way in, but he has to shove it down. he feels ashamed that hes doing this to his best friend whos about half dead on the floor - not to mention he was another guy. his first time shouldve been with some pretty girl he met, not with a guy he considered his best friend who was bleeding out onto the floor.

at the same time though theres something about that specific fact. something so primal about taking what was his - not having a care about what anyone would think of him for doing this. he was an animal, a predator taking what he needed from his prey - what he was owed and deserved.

the thought of that alone just about sends him over the edge - thrusting in particularly hard with a moan of his own. he does it again, followed by one more until hes finally spilling inside of him.

the twitch of dylans body and the gagging seems to stop as he did so.

he stays inside of him, not bothering to pull out. his whole body felt fuzzy and there was a sort of hazy feeling that hung over him. it was euphoric, really.

he has to pull out though against his own needs, looking over his work. he just about gets another erection when barely any of his cum leaks out.

he has to refrain himself though. he stuffs his own cock back into his boxers, fixing his pants and then turning his attention to his friend. he pulls up his pants and boxers too, fixing them and putting everything back into place.

eric wondered what the reports would say about this. what the autopsy report would say about the cum left inside of his friend and on his own dick - maybe theyd say he had raped him in death which wouldnt be wrong, or maybe theyd think it happened before - that dylan was some kind of faggot who willingly took it up the ass.

either way, it didnt matter.

eric wouldnt be around to see it and neither would dylan.

[pitviperofdoom]

promises to keep

Lately I've been working on my main original storyverse, Sacred Darkness, and decided to do a little character writing exercise for two of its central characters, Caleb and Jack. The parts I've been writing have been from their first meeting, and I wanted to work out how they act around each other later on, when they're closer and more vitally important to each other. And also to work out Jack's voice, which is pretty distinct.

So yeah! Here's just under 2k words of vampire/Frankenstein monster platonic hurt/comfort drama.

***

Caleb woke up, which was a surprise.

It was mainly a surprise because he hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Without English soil somewhere underneath him, the most he could manage was an exhausted haze that just barely counted as consciousness, by virtue of not offering him any actual rest.

He remembered little, but strongly remembered not being able to move, and moving was required for retrieving his soil-stuffed pillow and finding somewhere safe to sleep.

But against all odds, he woke up to the familiar softness beneath his head, and the smell of dirt that smelled more like himself than the earth it came from.

The rest of him lay on hard, unforgiving pavement, but the resulting aches and bruises were nothing to the deeper pain of proper wounds. It hurt to move his arm to check them. It hurt more to prod at the hole in his abdomen that was still, unfortunately, a hole. It must have been night, because he could feel his own flesh shifting beneath his probing fingers, gradually pulling itself back together, one muscle fiber at a time.

Careful not to pull at the wound, Caleb lifted his head, forced his bleary eyes open, and looked around.

He was curled up on his side in a grimy alley. The only light he could see was the edge of a pale yellow pool that spilled from some out-of-sight street lamp. A huddled silhouette sat near the mouth of the alley, as motionless as a crouching predator lying in wait.

Caleb tensed at the sight, until his blurry vision cleared, and he saw the way the dim glow brushed the edge of the figure’s face, and the line of thick stitching that ran up the side of the jaw. It was only Jack, keeping watch while he slept.

He sat up instinctively—or tried, because the sudden movement sent pain lancing through his injured stomach. The edges of his vision turned black, and when he blinked, he was lying on his pillow again, and Jack was growling.

A soft breeze carried the scent of human into the alley—thick, fresh, and laced with alcohol. Moments later, the sound of voices reached his ears. There were two of them, maybe three; Caleb could only catch snatches of conversation.

“—some kinda fight went down—”

“—bodies?”

“Hope so. Bodies won’t fight you—”

Before long, the voices had come near enough to be heard more clearly, even over the rumble at the base of Jack’s throat.

“Just see if there’s any bodies, check their pockets, and get out before the cops show up.”

“What if they’re not dead yet?”

“You’ve got a knife. If anyone fights back, use it. Not like the coroner will know the difference.”

Caleb’s wound stubbornly refused to heal further, in spite of the night sky and the blood in his belly. Another cautious, probing look revealed why: the edges of the wound were burned black, slowing the healing process to such a painful crawl that he might as well be mortal. Someone must have blessed that knife before it went into him.

Jack’s growl rose in volume, vibrating through the air of the alley. Beyond it, the voices went silent.

“Just a stray dog,” one of them said eventually. “Keep going.”

The footsteps shuffled closer.

Jack poised like a spring. Without warning, the rumbling growl shattered into a short, shrieking roar that echoed against the walls like a gunshot. He lunged forward, dashing his claws against the pavement with a metallic crack that sent up sparks.

Caleb lunged on instinct, ready to fight or flee, anything that got them both away from the approaching scavengers. But his body betrayed him again, still infected with the lingering holiness that had laid him low. He blacked out again—only for a few seconds, he thought—but when he came to, the night was quiet again, and Jack had returned to his vigil. Caleb waited, but no voices or footsteps disturbed the silence.

The ache in his stomach had lessened, but he didn’t make the mistake of trying to sit up again. Instead he curled protectively around the wound, as he kept his eyes on Jack’s hunched form.

“Jack?”

There was no answer. The shape in front of him didn’t so much as twitch.

Caleb braced himself to speak louder, in case Jack hadn’t heard. “Jack?” he called again. “What happened? How long have we been here?” He paused, squinting at the alley again. The walls had no marks or signs to indicate what the buildings were. “Where are we?”

“Oh? And I should know?” Jack’s voice reached him in a rattling hiss, scraping its way out of a throat that was not made to accommodate words. “I am just meat that someone sewed together, no good for anything but hiding behind you, with all the big brains and good ideas. So nice you’re awake, now you can protect stupid me and my glass bones.”

Caleb stared at him, absorbing the sudden, strange tirade. “Are—are you mad at me?”

“Mad? With my empty skull with no brain in it? No.”

“Jack.”

“Go to sleep.” Jack growled deep in his throat again. “Or do I have no brain or brawn to watch for danger, too?”

“I—I don’t think you’re stupid,” Caleb said uncertainly. “Or weak. Is that what this is about?”

Jack snorted, unimpressed. “And? What worth is thinking if you do not listen?”

Caleb went quiet for a moment, still lost. The wound in his belly ached. “What happened?” he asked again. It came out softer this time. “I remember the hunters found us, but…”

After a moment, Jack’s stiff posture loosened. The shift gave no sign of relief, only resignation. “What always happens is what happened. Danger comes and you are always between it and everyone else.”

“Yeah, that’s where I’m best.”

“No!” It came out in another roar-bark, the same sound that sent the scavengers running, only shaped into a word. Jack spun around, claws scoring the pavement again. “Always! Always you do this! I am fast and I am strong and I can think and fight and you do not care!”

The pain in his stomach and the alarm at being shouted at by someone that didn’t do a lot of shouting made Caleb’s temper short. “I don’t care?” he shot back. “You think I cover your back because I don’t care?”

“About me, yes,” Jack said tightly. “About you, no.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Caleb protested. Jack’s lip curled. “It’s just numbers, I’ve got two hundred fifty years to your two—”

Jack hissed. “Oh. I am blind and new, so I am an infant. Not weak and stupid, you said. You just said.” The hiss became a sharp spit. “Cover my back? You cover everything—back, front, sides, up and down. Can’t trip without you falling down for me. One day you’ll mark a grave with my name and jump in. Won’t even see two hundred and fifty-one.”

“That’s not—” Caleb’s voice caught in his throat. He swallowed dryly. “That won’t happen.”

Jack was silent.

“This is just—it’s what I’m best at,” Caleb explained. “It’s what I can do better than anyone else. Things that would kill most people, I can just… sleep off.”

“And while you sleep?” Jack asked. “What if I needed you last hour? What if they came back, while you slept off another death I could have dodged if you let me?”

“You—” Caleb hesitated. “You’ve been doing alright…”

“If I am alright when you are asleep,” Jack said. “Then I am alright when you are awake.”

Caleb tucked his face into the crook of his arm, feigning exhaustion while he hunted for the words to argue. He couldn’t find any.

Slowly, the metallic click of Jack’s footsteps drew closer. After a few moments, the clicks became scraping, and Jack’s clothes rustled by Caleb’s ear. He sat down with a quiet huff, not quite touching Caleb, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body.

“No thank you,” Jack said after a moment.

The words were so sudden and out of place that Caleb looked up again, baffled. “What?”

Another rustle, and this time Jack did touch him. One of his claws tapped the side of Caleb’s stomach, near the wound—gently, a whisper of touch so light that the razor tip didn’t even catch on Caleb’s shirt. “For this. For a hole in you and not me. Not—” He hesitated, throat rattling as the words escaped him. “Not a favor. Didn’t ask. No. Thank. You.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Caleb told him. “That’s not why I protect you.”

“Didn’t protect me nothing,” Jack shot back, more gently this time. “Hurts still.”

“You’ll live,” said Caleb. “And so will I.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Why, then?”

“Hm?”

“Why protect me?”

Caleb buried his face in his arm again. What a question. Why protect him? Why do anything? Why eat, why sleep, why wake up and crawl back out of the dirt every day?

“Does it hurt you?” Jack asked. “When the knife hits me and not you?”

Caleb didn’t answer, which was an answer all on its own.

“Now I hurt like that, so you don’t have to,” said Jack. “And that is better?”

When Caleb levered himself up off the ground, the pull at his wound still hurt, but not enough to send him crashing back down. Instead he got up—faster than he should have, perhaps—and steadied himself shakily against the closest wall.

“We should find somewhere else,” he said. “Less open.”

Jack retrieved the pillow gingerly, careful not to rip the fabric as he pressed it back into Caleb’s knapsack. Caleb reached for it, but Jack turned away and shouldered it himself. When Caleb pushed off the wall and stumbled, Jack nudged his way between him and an awkward fall.

For a moment, Caleb balked. Jack didn’t have his crutches with him, and the fusion of metal and flesh that made up his feet hurt him. The extra weight of a wounded vampire would only make it worse.

He was about to pull away when an image flashed in his mind—Jack curled around an injury, limping along in silent pain. The thought, and the rush of instinctive panic it brought, jarred him so badly he had to shake his head to clear it.

Beneath him, Jack held still and waited. Only when Caleb cautiously leaned on him did he begin leading the way out of the alley. Even with Jack’s support, every movement was sluggish and painful.

“Say that poem again?” Jack said, instead of I told you so. “With the horse in the snow.”

“Again?”

“I like it.”

Caleb nodded absently, and turned his tired mind away from hurt and fear in order to recall the words. “Whose woods these are, I think I know, His house is in the village though…”

This was not the area where the fight had taken place, Caleb realized absently, with the part of his brain not focused on memorized verses. Jack must have brought him here unconscious, alone and vulnerable to further attack. Already the first threads of purple sunrise were creeping across the sky—he’d been out the whole night on Jack’s watch, and come out of it without further injury.

Sunrise would bring weakness, a loss of strength, a haze of faux-mortality. Dead weight for Jack to bear, perhaps. If Jack realized this, he gave no sign of it. Caleb leaned against him and continued putting one foot in front of another.

Another mile or so, and then he could sleep somewhere softer, and get up only when the wound was gone.

[jikooklove9795]

TIME TO CALL ME DELUSIONAL BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!!!

One of Jungkooks last lives was him wearing the black and white Nike jacket.

Later we seen Jimin wearing the same one.

Everyone pointed it out..

Not to mention they were even matching with wearing beanies but back to my point-

A year ago today Jikookers were in Japan together, they’re safe place really.

Once he saw the snow, Jungkook said he’d remember that moment with Jimin while enlisted.

Today. 11/27. Jungkook changes his/Bams IG pfp with him wearing the same black and white Nike jacket…

Do you see where I’m going with this???

Hey Anon 😊

You really got some points there

We got to see Jungkook wearing the Nike Swoosh Black Jacket along with a black beanie during his Dec 8 2023 live

But we have seen him wearing this Nike Jacket in a live before, right?

When?

The March 14 2023 live. Where Jungkook started the live at 8:11 KST (cough 8/11 cough). The same live where he teased Jimin's SMF pt2 reminding us all that something amazing is gonna come up at midnight. It was White Day in SK.

On Dec 27 2023 we see Jimin wearing the Nike Swoosh Black Jacket along with a black beanie in BTS Monuments Beyond The Star

Jimin was in self quarantine at the time. So, its from Dec 14 2021. We get to know about the date from Jimin's phone screen and also from his conversation with Hoseok the same day

Now let me do a brief recap of Jungkook's Dec 8 2023 live.

When Jungkook starts the live, we see him walking home. He's going home after his workout. He talks about Bam (cause there was a rude comment asking him if he abandoned Bam), how he adopted Bam, took him home and cared for him, about Bam's training center, how he often visits Bam there and brings him home whenever he can. It is during this live that he hints that maybe Bam will have an IG in the future.

He sings songs for ARMY. Complains about the sweat. And changes his outfit to a purple hoodie just 15 mins before the live ends.

Now let's talk about the second part of your ask. About Jikook's conversation in Japan

Jikook got their first snow of this year in SK on Nov 27 2024.

Jungkook changed Bam's IG profile pic on Nov 27 2024 to this pic

And posted a new pic of Bam (the 13th post as pointed out by sydneylaurelseven)

When I saw Bam in this outfit I immediately thought of Jikook twinning on Valentine's Day in 2017

The song is a romantic one released in Dec 2017.

These lyrics:

I hope the white snow will pile up tomorrow morning

Then I'll make you a warm cup of tea

Just keep staying by my side

Promise me

So, I think when the first snow fell in SK Jungkook was reminiscing about his time with Jimin in Sapporo. And also about Bam. His cute family of 3.

According to SK tradition, if you experience the first snow with the person you like, it will lead to a long lasting true love between the two. Because of this many couples promise to meet each other at a certain place to enjoy the first snow and hope for their love to be eternal.

BTS did this interview on Dec 2017. Here, Jimin said that his wish was to see the first snow every year.

And he did. He did it with Jungkook on Jan 8 2018. Their first snow together as a couple (that we know of). Maybe they had watched it before too but this was the only one they shared with us till now. They let us in on their cute, romantic moment

When asked about their favorite weather:

On Nov 25 2018 Jikook went on their ice skating date right after they landed in SK after their Japan Concert

This sweet, romantic moment where Jungkook wakes up, climbs the mountain, brings snow with him and gifts it to Jimin cause he knows Jimin loves snow. And we see Jimin being worried about Jungkook feeling cold. Both of them always thinking about the other

Jikook playing with the snow filters designed by Jimin (Oct 10 2016)

On Nov 25 2023 Jikook flew to Sapporo. Sapporo is also a wonderful winter honeymoon destination for couples.

Jungkook enjoying his trip to Sapporo with Jimin and expressing it

Also, do you notice the watch Jimin is wearing?

He's wearing the same watch he wore during his Sept 1 2023 live. The 1997 model watch, which was set to Jungkook's birth time when he started the live (I love that moment so much. Its so romantic and loud. There's no other explanation to why he did that other than the most obvious one which is proudly showing his love for Jungkook).

Jikook had so much fun in Sapporo, enjoying each other's company, creating memories to take back home with them

I don't know if Jungkook posted those 2 pics intentionally on the same day when the first snow fell in SK. But when we (jkks) saw those 2 pics our mind immediately went to Jikook, right? Because in the first pic of Jungkook with Bam, Jungkook's jacket is the same as the one Jimin was also seen wearing (including the black beanie). The second pic is the one where Bam's wearing a green and grey jacket. Again, Jikook were seen twinning in green and grey jackets on Valentine's Day.

So, is it all a coincidence?

In my opinion Jikook and the word coincidence don't go hand in hand. Cause once, twice or even thrice can be considered a coincidence. But when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook its not a coincidence but a consistent pattern of their choices.

We have seen the whole Jikook sharing/ matching clothes, accessories saga, right? They even did it during their Solo Era. So, I'm not gonna share all that here since most of you would have already seen it. But I'll share some which looks really interesting:

1) Jimin wearing Jungkook's old T-shirt in Hoseok's bday live

2) After Jungkook uploaded GCF Tokyo an Army commented under the official BH tweet asking Jimin if he's dating Jungkook and if he is then to post a selca with glasses. After 3 days Jimin uploads a video where he is seen wearing the same green hoodie which Jungkook wore during their Tokyo trip, with a glasses filter on. He captions it "glasses"

3) Jikook in denim shirts. They looked and acted so couple coded here that Namjoon asked them if they were dating to which neither of them responds nor denies it

4) BTS pic with TXT where Jikook are wearing matching black outfits along with the hats

5) Jikook in couple pajamas for LGO MV. Jungkook wanted it to be as realistic as possible. And thats why there were seen sharing a room together cause thats what they have been doing in real life. Sharing a room, a home and being a couple

6) Jikook's color coordinated outfits for AYS Sapporo (Black & beige and Grey)

7) The staff had already prepared pajama sets for them, which can be seen on the bed but they chose to wear the couple pajama sets they brought with them

8) Jimin wearing Jungkook's sweater to bed in Winter Package

Jikook knows very well that we catch on to the hints and clues they keep dropping here and there.

So, I don't think we are delusional if we connected the pics Jungkook uploaded today to Jikook. And Jungkook himself said that when its gonna snow during their ms he would recall the moment he shared with Jimin during their Sapporo trip.

But add to it Bam too cause he's also a part of their family. So, when it snowed today in SK Jungkook's thoughts were filled with Jimin and Bam. His small, precious family.

Have a nice day, Anon 👋🏻

Credits to the owner of the video

[grapejuicestyless]

What If I Don’t Know?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: In an alternate universe where the pogues gave up the hunt after their win with El Dorado, Y/n breaks free of the island dream and runs off the college. Only to find that maybe, being away isn’t what she wanted after all.

My boots danced across the thick yellow lines on the deep black pavement. The traffic lights were flickering yellow, reflecting off of the void and rippling across the building puddles by the clogged sewer drains. An intersection at midnight, no dead stop and no definite go. Just the trust that the other cars wouldn’t blow past the warning signs. The trust that metal was made to bend, to rupture to save a life.

I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t afford one, and I never needed one. Everything I ever wanted was always just a few steps away. Laughter used to echo through the halls and cold rings hit the doors repeatedly. You grow used to people that way. Used to the sound of their footsteps, of their breath. You know who’s on the other side of the door always when you memorize the pattern of their movement.

JJ promised me once that we’d make one. We would run our way down to the junkyard and pick out old parts of cars and Frankenstein them together into a piece of shit that would run like a dream.

That was something I missed. The smell of gasoline. Maybe that’s why I stumbled down through the college town, balancing between the thin stripe of black between yellow and twirling in the center where road met road. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. The image of JJ bent under the hood of a truck. The same Ford that sat broken in the front yard for years, the sound of metal twisting and the breathy grunts with each violent twist of the wrench. It would run like new one day, he swore. I never doubted him, and I still don’t. One day, we’ll run down to that junkyard, a graveyard for cars, and we’ll find that missing piece.

Rain dripped from the bridge of my nose, falling on my soaked shoes and flattening out my fuzzy socks. Everything up North was colder. Maybe it was because of how bitter people were. The semi-warm summers and the sweltering months of autumn, only for the two week beach bliss to be swiftly replaced with a harsh winter that didn’t let up until the next summer. Cold nipped at my nose. I felt bitter the longer I was here, which was weird because when I was sixteen, I could have sworn this place was home.

Then again, I had never really been anywhere long enough to know what home really was. Everywhere I went became rushed by the sweet adventure that was chasing riches. Maybe it was the idea of settling down that intrigued me. To be sat in one place for a while and to slow down, to increase my chances of living through my twenties without some pirate knocking on my front door, a gun to my head. But this wasn’t home, this wasn’t settling. This was restlessness mixed with a deep urge to find something like home. An emptiness emotionally that I just couldn’t understand.

Like a dog chasing its own tail, I felt stupid, and I myst have looked drunk dancing among the silence of my college town. I should have been happy, this should have been home. I got out, I got what Kiara always dreamed of, I sought out a higher education, a dream that Pope had thrown away. My record was clean and my future had meaning. I should have been ecstatic to receive this opportunity, after all the grief and death and scandals of my childhood, a stage in my life that was stripped away by all the realities that unraveled with each new treasure found. But, I wasn’t. Even then, sick, dirty, and cold, I wasn’t happier than then now.

I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. In the dormitories, in the bathrooms, in the halls. It’s me, or, a version of that girl. She has my hair, and we share the same eyes, same curve of our lips too. But she’s hollowed out, gutted, and so indescribably not me. Different, not greater, but worse. I think of packing my bags quite often. Going quietly and without a fuss. To swallow my pride and withdraw my debt I would surely acquire if I stay any longer here at some institution I knew I couldn’t afford the moment I sent in my letter.

My roommate would be disappointed, but she’d move on. She doesn’t know me, she understands the concept of me, but she doesn’t know me. She’s nice enough, keeps her room clean, which inspires me to do the same. She brushes her hair regularly, almost obsessively, and is really pretty. We get along fine. We are friends, to a degree, but we are sure to find other roommates and never speak again. Still, I wonder if she would be mad if I left without telling her.

JJ was mad when I told him. He didn’t like the idea of abandonment. Though, I promised I would return in just a few months, and then a week after, and a few months later. It would feel like I am forever home, only with short intermissions where he gets to enjoy all the things that the island could offer with the others to hang off of his arm. He didn’t even indulge in that idea. He thought even an hour apart was too much.

I promised him it wasn’t abandonment, and swore to call him every night. I do. Sometimes I call him in the morning, and I almost always call him in the afternoon. I like to hear his voice. It sounds like home, it makes me feel warm. I forget about the redness of my nose and the tingling numbness in my fingers. He sounds like the waves crashing against the shore and the sound of wet spaghetti hitting the walls during dinners at midnight. He is laughter and the summer sun, the swells that ripple in mid July and the best seashells on the beach.

My knees bend beneath me, kneeling against the wet cement beneath me. I feel the wetness soaking through my jeans. It’s cold. Like it could be snow if it were a degree cooler. I kneel in the middle of the intersection, and I look up at the sky. It’s dark. I check my watch, it’s nearly morning again. The yellow light flickers against my skin, illuminating my face and leaving me in pitch black again. Everyone is sleeping in my college town. All is quiet.

My neck stretches out, upwards and I open my mouth. My tongue touches my chin, and I can taste the dirt in the droplets that swallow down my throat. My eyes are closed, because I have nothing to fear but loneliness itself, and whether my eyes are opened or closed, the feeling will still be there, and the fact will be too. I am alone, in this journey. I have nothing friends to lean on and no campfire to light. Nobody here knows about the existence of Kildare, of the marsh, and the restaurants that line the cut. They wouldn’t care, they don’t care about an environment they are not accustomed to. They only have so much space to consume what they need to know. To drink up their studies, they have no space for empty thoughts of a life they never lived.

I have my old phone in my pocket. The keypad is burned into the screen because it’s all I use it for now. My life revolves around nothing but the stress of failure and the relief of my best friend’s voice at the end of the day to ease my stress. The truth is, I understand the void in my passion now better than I did when it first appeared, the black hole that seemed to swallow up all my excitement for the new beginnings. I understand the bitter feelings I have for my new house, because I refuse to call this place home. Home is not a place you reside, though, familiarity breeds contempt, home is a connection to the people who reside in respect of you, who stand by you. So though the people I surround myself with here are perfectly friendly, they are not my friends, and they will never come close to the feeling of home I feel with them.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep. He has that rasp men get early in the morning, a rich deepness I rarely hear anymore, but something I once bathed in with his arms wrapped around me through the night.

Theres a soft rhythmic ticking that comes with the flickers of light, and the soft patters of rain drenching the pavement create solemn acoustics around me.

“Hey, JJ.” It comes out in one breath. A sigh of relief that he even heard the buzzing of his phone in his usual dead-to-the-world like sleep cycle. My fingers slip on my phone case and I have to catch it, the rustling on my end of the line echoing back through the speaks to me. I can hear the playback of my breathing through a short delay that spans over a vast distance.

“Is everything alright? It’s…three in the morning. I don’t know a lot about time zones but, I think we’re both on the east coast.”

“No, it’s the same time zone, Jay.” My cheeks already hurt with how big my smile was. He just had that effect on me. His goofy, unknowing attitude always managed to make me laugh, especially because deep down I knew he was a lot smarter than he led on to be. When he let that mask slip to reveal his true self, it was always a wonder the ideas that spewed from his lips. He had one of the greatest minds I’d ever known, only to be undermined by the tragedy of his last name.

“Is it a crime to miss my best friend?” My eyes found a home on my wet knees, and my free hand began to play around in the water. Dragging my nail through the small puddle forming around my body.

“At this time? Yes.” He chuckled softly. “Somethings up, what are you speculating? Whats the word? Ovulating? Because I can’t help you with that.” He made himself clear, smiling through his sentences.

“What? No! Why would I call you of all people if I was photo-ovulating?” I corrected myself with a laugh.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. I happen to be irresistible.” JJ defended himself with a teasing tone. Our conversation was light like it always was, even though my homesickness ran deep, and the sadness I felt was heavy, he made it feel like even the rain pouring down around the city I lived in was letting up.

“Lord knows John B’s walls are too thin for me to not have some kind of clue.” I snickered, pushing back the wet strands of hair that had fallen down upon my face.

Rain clung to me in every crevice, drenching me completely until I felt nothing but cold wash over me. It was a shower I didn’t need, one that did not cleanse me but instead poisoned me with the reminder that this was reality, I was miles away from the voice that was soothing my hearts ache momentarily. I would mull over it later.

“Nah, you got off on that shit.”

“Don’t be a pig, I’ll hang up.” I threatened half-heartedly. We both knew I never would. I could never cut the calls first, so the responsibility fell to JJ, who suffered the same inability to let go. Our calls usually stretched for hours, and the voicemails left in my inbox from the few times I would pass out with my cheek pressed firmly against some dusty book in the library took up all remaining storage in my phone. Right along side the folders of photos of us that collected by the thousands.

“So why’d you call?” He asked finally. I had no real answer. I used up all my excuses. Could he check for a sweater I left behind, the very same one I had on, or if he could just catch me up on what the others were up to. As if I didn’t call to hear all their stories daily, hourly if possible. What was I to tell him? What excuse could serve as something plausible without bearing a burden on his wide shoulders.

“You’re my best friend. I love you, I don’t need a reason.”

“You always have a reason.” He argued softly.

“Well, tonight I don’t.” I hummed. He hummed too, and silence filled the line.

The homely yellow flicked was accompanied by the blinding lights that came in pairs, growing brighter and wider with each passing second. Like a deer, I stood quickly, tall in my path but frozen in fear. I couldn’t meet the eyes of the man behind the wheel, recklessly racing across the intersection with no caution. Yellow meant slow, yet in the night, it only called for feet hitting the floor.

Puddles splashed violently, wheels screeching against the wet cement, leaving trails of where wet met soaked. I could see the distance between the wheels, I could lay my chest against the ground and measure it with my wingspan. The car swerved, laying down on the horn until the sound sputtered away into the distance, and nothing but the soft ticking of the lights and the sound of rain smacking the pavement filled the silence of the line again.

“Are you outside?” JJ asked finally. The sound of sheets crinkling and shuffling of legs against the mattress told me the loud alarm had stirred him from his relaxed state. I nodded at first, forgetting he couldn’t see me, and then I cleared my throat.

“I’m standing in an intersection.” I confessed quietly.

“Why?”

To clear my mind, to escape everything that was bothering me. To find peace with the silence, to try and find comfort in a home that wasn’t mine. There were a lot of minor reasons. The smell of gasoline was high on the list. I rationalized a lot of reasons in my head. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. Still, my gut wouldn’t settle.

I had left home to find something good for myself, to do myself the favor I always promised myself I would if I ever had the chance. But now, now that my feet had carried me to a place that was usually bustling with life, life that felt dull compared to even the most calm days on the island, I felt like I could never go back. A chance, a life, a future that I craved, I was throwing away because my feet refused to lift from the ground until I was sure I would only take my next steps home.

“I miss you.”

My answer was clear. It was true. I missed the waves, I missed the concrete roads freshly paved down in figure eight and how they met the old dirt roads of the cut. I missed John B’s chicken coop, though the chickens were long gone. I missed the dying tree carved with his name, and the rusted latch on the chateau’s porch door that left a yellow stain in the crinkles of my palm. But more than anything, I missed being no more than a breath away from JJ Maybank.

“Come pick me up?” I asked with uncertainty. Not because I even doubted for a moment that JJ wouldn’t come running to me if I even for a moment doubted where I stood, but because the morning was still young and tropical paradise was far away from the whistling winds of the North. Ferries only ran during certain hours, and money was hard to come by, even when we scrape together our pennies. Thats what happens when you drink up your success, you’re left with the repercussions. So, even if he did catch the boat, where would he get a ride from? How much more would it cost to bring the Twinkie alongside hime and ride it all the way to the hills where the colleges welcome signs were illuminated by colored lights, shining in school colors and pride.

He let out a stifled breath. He was choking on emotion I couldn’t read over the phone.

“I’ll be there, yeah.” He promised.

“Okay…I’ll go pack.” I said, suddenly and awkwardly. Yes, I dreamed of this day, kissing everything goodbye and running back to my roots, but now it was real. I could hear JJ slipping on his boots already. Why waste this chance?

“Pack?” He questioned.

“I’m leaving for good, Jay. I know I tell you that this is great and all, but I hate it here. This isn’t…this isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s not what I want.”

“So, you’re coming home?” He asks even though my answer has always been obvious.

“Yes.”

The line falls quiet again. I can hear the shuffling of his feet quickening against the rotting wood floors of the old Maybank property. A broken home flipped into something good. We share a bed there, I imagine he’s already grieving the loss of his starfish sleep position now that he’ll be bound to the same mattress as me again.

“I’ll be there soon.” The line falls dead.

Water splashes around me. If I wasn’t already soaked, I would be now. I can see why John B loved having a car so much now. The cold was fine at first when it was numbing, but now that I had feeling back in my chest, it was too much for me. My feet hit the pavement in harsh slapping movements, I pump my arms for some kind of friction against the wind. My lungs burn, they taste metallic. I want to wheeze and stop running, but I don’t think I could if I tried. I should feel embarrassed how quickly I up and left the place I was once stuck in, how I turned on my heels to run far away. But I’m not. I feel nothing, actually. Nothing but cold, determination, excitement. I have the energy of a child. I am an olympic runner, I have the right motivation. Get the fuck out of here, run myself right into JJ’s arms. I pray I don’t wake my roommate up when I reach my room.

The room is empty when I get there. I open the door so slowly, not even the rusted hinges make a sound. The carpet groans under my weight, even on my highest tip-toes. But the beds are empty and neatly made like they were left this morning. Rains pelts the windows. Theres a fan running. It’s my fan. I can’t sleep in the heat, not even in the winter. My bedding consists of borrowed blankets that I buried myself in, subconsciously trying to suffocate away the homesick feelings.

I barely had any clothes to pack, anything to throw into my duffle bag and my old backpack that was once Kiara’s. I never really got around to unpacking anyway, because there was so little to fill the bags I brought. Looking back on every decision I made before even stepping foot on campus, I should have known I would never stay. This was merely a vacation from hell. I don’t get the privilege to relax, I am worked and forced to prove myself over and over again among my peers who will never know me. I can’t wait to go somewhere where I am known again.

Somewhere along the way, I begin to collect up the posters on my walls. I rip them down hazardously, crumpling them and leaving them in the empty trashcan. It’s empty because there’s nothing I’ve touched in this room. Not the books, or the pens. I have a singular pencil up on my desk that’s much shorter than it once was, only half of its once lengthy size, and a nearly full set of flashcards. I don’t need the memory of this place to follow me. I consider it a favor to my roommate. To gift her with all the supplies she will ever need. She is nice enough, and a lot smarter than me. She’s sitting here on a full ride, though, the collar of her shirt says she could afford it without a penny. I convince myself she deserves it even though I do not know her.

I check my phone repeatedly, and I sit on the bench under the old overhang by my dorms. I stay out of the rain, I stay near the warmth and huddle up. I feel anxious waiting for him. It’s only been a few hours. I swept over the room for the few things I did want to keep. Like one of JJ’s bracelets, though it never even left my wrist. Or the soap I used in the shower. It was brand new, I had just bought a new one. I wait for his call. I wait for the familiar honking of the rusted horn. I wait, and wait as the sun rises. Time ticks by. I am impatient, I wasn’t bred this way, but good things have made me this way. I cannot wait.

“Popes probably gonna kill me.” I mumbled softly.

The car was warm, but my hands still lingered with the outsides touch. I sat on that bench for hours waiting for him. I saw people rise from their beds and lean out the window, taking in the smell of the dewey morning. A few gave me puzzled glances. A drenched girl, dripping down on the bench, wetting everything she touched.

But then, he came. I could see the rusted van before he even put it in park. Just between the brick lined buildings and the paths decorated in dying shrubbery. There was a small gap between the campus lawn and the visitors parking lot. A small slice of the outside world creeping into the sheltered space that was college.

I ran. I ran faster than I ever had in my life. Faster than when I used to race for desert back when Big John used to ruffle my hair and let me sleep over if I wanted, faster than when Ward held a gun to my head and made me pray for some kind of miracle. I ran until my feet couldn’t keep up, and I fell into JJ with a gasp.

He held me back, lifting my feet from the ground they stood on. I swore I heard him mumble something sappy under his breath, but he quickly shrugged it away when he saw the look in my eyes. I never felt love until I felt the desperation in the way he wrapped his arms around me. The way he squeezed the air from my lungs and only let me breathe when he was sure that the feeling between his elbows and his chest was really real, until he knew that this was for good.

He had slung my bags into the back seat and laughed as he told me to get in the Twinkie. When he started driving, he played the old CD we burned together in middle school filled with soft rock and Bob Marley. Occasionally, a song I had written into the playlist without him knowing would play. He always acted angry that I’d done that, but his fingers tapped the wheel and he couldn’t help but hum along. He would never admit to liking trashy pop songs, but the pink on his cheeks gave him away.

When the CD was spun to an end, we debated playing it again. We fell into silence, into the comfort of company. We both took the time to process the fact that this was real now, this was the decision I had decided to make. The thoughts that ran through my mind, what if I took off? What if I packed my bags, what if we moved back home? Let’s adventure down the coast, let’s live our youthful dreams that are unrealistic. Let’s make a home. They were real now, in this car, in him. We sat comfortably knowing that there was no limit on our company now, no restrictions on how much time there was left to borrow.

My socks tapped against the dashboard, my toes tracing the outline of the stickers scattered along the interior. Wet residue was left over, soggy folds gathered at my ankles. My body folded into itself slightly. I let the warn air from the dusty vents dance across my skin. Goosebumps faded like the sinking feeling in my gut. The smell of gasoline filled my nose once more, the smell of his deodorant reminded me that he was close.

“No doubt about it. Don’t know how you’re gonna talk your way out of this one.” JJ sighed contently.

“Well, you’re pretty good at sweet talking.” I buttered him up. Compliments were his weakness, I knew it all too well.

“I love you, but no.” JJ laughed.

“What! Oh, come on, please!”

My hands wrapped around his right bicep. My chin sat perched on his shoulder, batting my eyelashes at him and tickling the peach fuzz on his jaw that he had missed while shaving. I wanted to rub my palm over it, tease him for it with a smile. He had a toothy grin that I could see reflecting back in the rearview mirror.

“I get shit done, but I’m not a miracle worker, ‘kay?” He lifted his arm out of my grasp reluctantly, waving his finger to make his point.

“I thought Papa J was a miracle worker?” I teased with a raised brow. My arms crossed over my chest with a huff. My back fell gently against door. I turned to face him, a pout on my face and lines between my furrowed brows.

JJ let out a breathy laugh, his resolve quickly breaking at my endless begging. He had soft spots and I knew just where to aim.

“No, no! Don’t use my ego against me!” He laughed. I held my stomach this time, trying to keep my ribs together while I struggled to contain the fits of giggles bubbling up my throat and fighting past my lips. If love was a sanctuary, I was certain I had both feet in it. If it was a fire, I was burning up, and if it was the waves, they had crashed down relentlessly against my shivering body, bringing relief with each blow.

I bit the inside of my cheek and chewed at the skin. Laughter faded into even breathing, and my limbs curled up against the wrinkling fabric of the passenger seat. It had just barely started to rain again, a soft pattern of droplets hitting the windshield every so often. The closer we got to the dock, the more it lightened up. Though, the storm came in waves in the shape of the clouds that covered the blue skies. With each opening with sun peaking through, the tapping on glass stopped. When the grey swallowed us whole, it resumed. I didn’t mind it again. Not for the reasons that I wallowed in just hours ago, not to seek comfort in my homesick nature that cane purely from the soul of a homebody. But this time, because the swelling my my heart made me want to pull over to the side of the highway and spin around until my half-dried socks were coated in mud and my skin didn’t recall what the dryness felt like.

“Can I tell you something?” I murmured, my eyes locked in to the passing view that was the trees speeding past the windows.

“Yeah.” JJ hummed.

“I only came back for you.”

JJ hesitated on what he thought he wanted to say. He was biting his tongue. I shook my head.

“That sounds bad.” I laughed. “I only decided to leave because of you. I guess…just sitting in the middle of the road, I already felt really far away from everyone. I missed everyone more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life, but I was convinced that maybe I could suffer through it. But…just being with my thoughts, and hearing your voice after thinking for a while…kinda just convinced me.”

JJ took it all in. I saw the whites of his knuckles deepen the harder he pressed his fingertips to the wheel, the vast expanse of road ahead daunting now. This was beyond quality time together, and he knew it now that the newness began to settle and he began to realize it was the same old me. This was my future, and I had tossed it all away.

“I just…I guess I always thought you’d be the one to make it out. To really go for it. Kildare’s bog enough for me, but I always kinda thought you’d go somewhere…more.” JJ spoke softly, eyes glued to the road.

“Maybe I already did get out. I got out and I tried to change everything about me to be that girl who wanted to get out, but she’s dead. Getting out sounded so freeing when we were younger, but now…now that we’ve seen the world and…and done so much in such little time, I’ve already lived a whole life, I’ve seen the world and I still feel like I don’t know who I am yet. But I know what I love, and I know that I hate every second that I’m away from it.”

JJ hummed again, raising his brows.

“You don’t need to explore every single corner of the earth to be something or-or someone. And maybe I didn’t realize it when I sent my letter in but I know now and I know that, I feel only half as good when I’m anywhere but where I should be. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing or if Pope is going to lecture me for days and you have to listen to it, but I know I have such a better chance of being who I want to be where I can be her than in some Northern University where people wear coats year round.” I rambled. My hands moved quickly. I cut through the air with each slice of my palms, and my eyes ran wild across the landscapes and the curve of his nose down to the bend of his jawline.

“I’m just trying to make sure this is what you want.” He finally cracked a smile. His head turned for a moment to meet my eyes, and I could see the flickers of light brightening up his affectionate gaze.

“Jay, I sat in the pouring rain in the middle of the road and begged you to come get me.” I deadpanned, but a small smile still graced my face.

Truthfully, I couldn’t wait to stick my toes back in the warm sand back home. To look down at my boots and dance along the gravel roads instead of balancing between two yellow lines that shot straight down the neat pavement.

Home was a foreign concept for a long time. The idea that it was something that could be bought. Through a mortgage, monthly rent, out of pocket. I never had those kinds of expenses. What was pocket change for some felt like gold to me, so maybe when people sat around talking about how they craved a big house to reside in, I never fully understood. Then again, I was never anywhere long enough to know.

I wouldn’t change a thing, how I ran around with my friends for years looking for gold that seemed to become buried under more and more stories, leading us to an even greater prize. I wouldn’t change the way I threw it all away to be with them. Subconsciously, I was smarter than I thought. Pope talked about packing up his bags, skipping town and moving to Idaho. Somewhere where he meant nothing to nobody and could start over. But I never indulged in it, or the fantasies of having a little more money. Being stable out be nice, but I always knew I had what I needed. I had a home and it was built on the structure of my four best friends that soon grew in size to six, and they had toothy smiles and stupid jokes.

“Do you think they’ll be mad?” I asked suddenly. Sure, this was right and it was what was true, but this was a dream that nobody else ever got to experience.

JJ pulled his lip between his teeth.

“Nah.” He sighed. “Pope will have your head, but Pope gets wound up easily. Could use him as a fishing pole.” JJ joked. It made me laugh and I felt any stress melting away. It was funny that he could do that anytime he pleased. I didn’t know if he ever knew he could do it, but he had a smart mouth, and a funny bone that always seemed to tickle me just right.

“But not you?” I asked once again.

“Not me what?”

“You wouldn’t? Be disappointed in me, that is.” I clarified softly, the roads becoming softer the more me drove along them. It was only moments until we’d soon roll onto the metal bridge connecting us to the boat that would send us home.

JJ breathed out through his nose.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” I responded plainly.

“And it makes you happy?”

“Yes.” JJ sighed, his eyes flickering from the wheel, to the road, and back to me. But only for a moment.

“Then no.” He answered just as plainly as I did, but there was a twinge of happiness itching at the corners of his lips. Selfishly, he wanted me to come home, and selfishly, I did too.

“Well, are you mad at me?” I continued to press him.

He laughed. “I could never be angry at you.”

“Not even if this is the wrong choice?” I picked at the skin by my fingers. My skin hurt a lot less now that it was shedding the smell of foreign land and letting the faint smell of the Twinkie stick.

“Who am I to tell you if it’s wrong?”

“Well, Pope would tell me it’s wrong.” I argued weakly.

“And am I Pope?”

I shook my head silently, and my eyes glued to my fingers. Blood stained my cuticles, where skin met nail. It stung, but it hurt a lot less than what I felt before.

“Y/n/n, you could send me into bankruptcy and act like we’re rich and I don’t think I’d even have it in me to blame you.” JJ smiled. I focused on the slopes and curls of his hair.

We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t like he was Shakespeare, but it wasn’t often JJ said something truly sappy. Usually, his philosophies revolved around excuses for his own stupid actions, which, now that he had explained his view on me, I had come to realize I never fully saw the extent of his behavior because I had never had the courage to blame him. I never would.

“So, you’ll talk me out of trouble when we get back?” I smiled sweetly, leaning my head on his shoulder and batting my eyelashes desperately.

JJ let out a laugh from deep in his stomach, his cheeks turning pink from his gasps of oxygen.

“I love you, but no.”

“I thought JJ was the reckless one, but holy shit, Y/n/n!” Pope ran a hand over his hat, pulling it off by the brim in one quick motion. The hard fabric hit the wooden counter of the bait and charter shop, the slap echoing through the homely space.

“Can you blame me? It’s so far away, and we just got back! I haven’t been in one place for more than a month in years, and I’m so god damn tired of feeling homesick all the time!” I tried to argue against the growing rally against me. I pleaded my case, but they all looked at me like I was brain dead.

“You had a chance, Y/n. A really good one too and you blew it, for what? To sell bait? To slum it in the cut? You can do that when you’re done earning your other options!” He scolded me like I was a kid. But I’m not a kid, and the worry lines slowly creeping up onto my once vibrant face are only evidence of the ever growing number attached to my bones.

“Yes, but a chance I didn’t ever really want! I mean, how could I even know if I ever wanted it, I don’t know who I am!”

“Thats what growing up is for! Not growing down. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not a kid anymore, Y/n. And you never will be again!”

Silence fell over the small room. Even the waves rolling against the dirt didn’t dare to whisper through the large windows and gaps for doors.

“I sacrificed that for you.” I spoke softly, bitterly. For so long, I’s bitten my tongue for everyone. Hidden my resentment for chasing after a gold, I never really wanted because in my eyes, I already had it. But it was what they wanted, so I let myself age out of the period of my life I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

“I gave up my childhood so that you could figure out yours! You got to know who you are, I never got that because no one ever stopped to ask me what I wanted! Nobody! You were all too caught up in your greedy treasure hunt to ever look around and think about if everyone wanted to do this!”

“No one made you come along.” Kiara stepped forward, the same disapproving look in her eyes. She was only defending her wordless friend, but my feet felt heavy and my joints were warm. I felt myself creating sentences I should have never admitted out loud.

“Well I did! I did, and it’s too late to change that, and I did it because that’s what friends do. But what do we have to show for it? Nothing! We didn’t get the cross, we didn’t get the gold, hell, we already spent all of the nuggets John B managed to grab!” It fell silent again, and suddenly, I was standing in the center of a circle I didn’t want to be a part of.

“So what? Because we failed, it condemns you to leave college?” Kiara always had a smarter mouth than me. She was quit witted and observant. Yet, she failed to understand that my choice to come home wasn’t something merely of the way the treasures slipped through our fingers. It was a homesickness she never had to feel because she had plenty of them where she was consistently welcomed.

“Why is it so wrong for me to be unhappy with something that everyone else enjoys? Just because my dreams do not inspire yours does not make them any less important. A-and honestly I’m sick of standing here and listening to all of you yell at me for getting out of there instead of letting myself waste away! I’d be dead if I didn’t leave, I’d be dead because you all mean a lot too much to me for me to be away from you guys for so long. In four years I might be rich, but I would be unhappy. I would be bored. But you guys—us; we will be interesting, and funny, and bold, and unpredictable forever.”

I swallowed hard, and my eyes met the blues of the boy who had the courage to go against the majorities better judgement and bring me home. He had the same wild look on his face.

I hadn’t expected JJ to speak for me, to try and mellow out the anger I knew I would receive and backtrack against the backlash I would surely face. But out of everyone, I thought I could count on him to have my back.

And he just, didn’t.

I decided then I wouldn’t stay in the eye of the hurricane when I knew what it was capable of. I wouldn’t let myself become part of its destruction if I knew I could separate myself from it for just a moment, to remove myself from all the disappointed stares.

My feet hit the wood of the long dock, the bottoms of my shoes echoing through each plank of wood, all borrowed from the destruction of a past home.

I thought of packing up, leaving, heading over to some other place I could call home temporarily, but my fingers hesitated to reach under the bed, and my knuckles curled away from the zipper that connected to the duffle bag that was squished between dirty clothes and shoe boxes filled with memories.

A hand spun me around, pulling me from the daze I had put myself in the second I walked into the new bedroom that was mine to keep in the newly fixed home. It was calloused and warm, yet the coolness of the rings decorated on each finger revealed who the strong hold belonged to.

“Why couldn’t say something?” I asked bitterly before my eyes even met his. It was just JJ and I in the confines of our bedroom. The door shut without a crack and the windows sealed off from the outside.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He smiled. I didn’t find it funny.

“No, but you could have defended me. I would have done it for you.” My lip wobbled. My throat stung, and JJ’s eyes softened. He must have believed it was because he hurt me, but it wasn’t his fault. It was just the idea that nobody would ever deal with what I felt because they hadn’t been burdened with the feeling of it ever before. And therefore, nobody would ever get it, nor have an inkling of an understanding of why I had to come home.

“Y/n/n, come on. It’ll blow over. They’ll be happy to have you back as soon as they get over it.” He tried to comfort me.

When his hands found my shoulders, it felt belittling, condescending, though I knew it wasn’t the case. I convinced myself it was because I was angry. Spiteful, maybe.

“No, JJ, stop. Stop touching me like you care, I can’t…I can’t stand it right now.” I stepped away, throwing his hands off of me like they were poison, or fire, or both.

“Everyone is looking at me like I’m a failure! Like…like I’m something to be embarrassed about. But who are they to say that I failed? Right? I spent my whole life, the years when I’m supposed to be finding myself licking the dirt off of other peoples shoes! And I took it and I didn’t complain because I thought that maybe my day would come, and it hasn’t! How is that fair? And to think I was stupid enough to think that something good would happen to me. But the truth is I hate being out of this stupid town, and this stupid town hates me. I-it’s like they’re all spitting on me and blaming it on the wind. And don’t look at me like I’m crazy because I love you too damn hard to be looked at like that by a boy I would give my whole life for!”

I breathed heavily through my teeth, and my chest raised with so much vigor in my voice, I shook the air with a desperate anger I had felt marinating for decades beneath my skin. Yet, the manhunting and the blaming had pushed it down, and the failure and the fear had only boiled it back up. But it was always there, simmering. JJ just laughed.

“I’m only looking at you like you’re crazy because I think you’re too good to care what anyone has to say about you.” He explained with a smile.

“To you, maybe. But that doesn’t make it true. Whats true is that they all had some image of me painted for them the second I made the decision to go to college, and it was wrong. Because I’m not nearly smart enough to be as interesting or independent as they want me to be. I can’t do organic chemistry, I’ve never passed a calculus test, I’m not a doctor. Nobody ever supported those dreams anyways, not even me, because as amazing as it would be to become those versions of myself, it’s not me.” My face crumpled in defeat finally.

“I’m not…good enough for anything outside of this town.”

For the first time in my life, I saw something in JJ’s eyes as I confessed how I saw myself, how I let my friends—no, my families anger affect how I saw my decisions. I saw dapples of disappointment flickering in the sea of his eyes.

“Do you really think thats true?” He asked calmly, softly. He ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to reach out for me, but he too shared that feeling of uncertainty that had consumed me in the past months.

“Good god, maybe they were right. Maybe you are a failure.” JJ sighed, and my breathing halted. “How can you for one second believe that anything they have to say is true? How can you believe that these things you think about yourself are true?”

“Well what am I supposed to believe? We were all raised to believe the same things, right? The engineers and the scientists are necessary but nobody needs the family man or-or the artists to carry on, right? So why should my dreams of just simple living be tolerated when everyone else craves so much more?” I cried.

“Do you even hear yourself? It’s contradictory in every sentence!” JJ yelled furiously back at me. But his anger wasn’t placed at me, but at the things that led me to believe what I thought.

“Just a few hours ago you were excited to come home. You were certain that this is what you wanted because it was your dream and your life! You wanted to find yourself, to know who you are. And you were right! More dead on than anyone had ever been in my life, and hearing you speak about what you knew inspired me to think more for myself than for the benefit of everyone else! College, or some fancy job, or money won’t make any of us know who we are, that’s your job!” JJ’s eyes were wide. He had decided now, and his hands found a home on my arms, squeezing hard and passionately.

“Anyone can be those things they want you to be, but I promise you, if you stick with what you know you want, everyone you touch will remember you for centuries.” He promised me softly.

“And how do I know if I even know myself? What if I’ve never been home enough long enough to know?”

“Then you’ll find it. You’ll find it, and I’ll find it too. We can find it together.”

My eyes searched his. I could no longer blink away my tears. The liquid was much warmer than the rain that had pelted against my skin, that had slipped down my back and under my shirt to touch the most painful and terrifying parts of myself that I had refused to acknowledge or recover for some time. It was hard to recognize it all, to know exactly who I wanted to be, so, I did what I did know.

I wrapped my arms around JJ tightly, burying my head in the wrinkles of his shirt and let the patterns his arms rubbed circles in my back guide the way I swayed. I let him hold me, because if anything could be uncertain then he was nothing. He was the one thing I’d always known, and maybe that was why I had called him that night. Because in every memory I ever had, he was the one defining memory of home. He was home.

“Will you be mad at me if I never find it?” I asked pathetically against his chest.

“No.” He responded softly, muffled by the way his lips pressed into the top of my head affectionately.

“I could never be angry at you.”

[kissorkill16]

I Hate My Eyes: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nicky tries to get his eyes back to normal.

(P.S., for @limoks-blogs !)

It was the end of the week, and Nicky was slowly starting to get better.

He wasn't sneezing so much anymore, and his throat felt less scratchy. Probably because Mr. Murtaugh had been making him take two spoons of whatever gross cold medicine each day.

Thankfully, Nicky was getting better, and he wouldn't have to take any of that stuff for a long time.

But there was one thing Nicky wished would get better.

His eyes.

He didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him. They didn't sting, strain or burn or anything, they were just...brown. At first, he didn't really care, but he noticed how a couple of people kept pointing it out.

His eyes were once jade, now they were brown.

Those jade eyes he once had made him look so lively and so happy, but now his brown eyes made him look dead inside.

And he didn't like it.

So as soon as he was well enough to go to school again, he waited until everyone was out of Mr. Murtaugh's classroom and went to see him.

He didn't have a session that day, since the science teacher said he had a meeting after school, but Nicky really needed to see him.

He waited until 4:00, slowly falling asleep as he waited for Mr. Murtaugh or anyone else from the meeting to walk out the door like they were finished. He woke up to his shoulder being nudged.

"Nicholas."

Nicky sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Hey.", he said, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Nicky, what are you doing here? I told you I needed to cancel our session today.", said the science teacher.

"I know, it's just that I needed to talk to you about something important."

Mr. Murtaugh led the boy inside his classroom and shut the door behind him. "What did you need to talk about, dear?", he asked.

Nicky looked down at his shoes, then back at Mr. Murtaugh. "Do you notice anything different about me?", he asked.

The science teacher tapped his chin, then he held Nicky's face in his hands and pulled him closer. He looked at both sides of his face, then under his chin, then around the rest of his body.

"Hmm...I'm not sure.", he said. "I normally take notes of what I notice about my students."

Nicky sighed, "It's my eyes."

The science teacher looked at him again, and his eyes widened. "Oh yes, I can't believe I didn't notice. I feel like I should have."

Nicky looked down at his shoes again.

"What's the matter with your eyes? Do they hurt?"

Nicky shook his head, "They were once jade, but now they're brown. I don't like it."

Mr. Murtaugh furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "I'm afraid I still don't understand.", he said.

"People keep pointing out how my eye color has changed ever since I escaped Mr. Peterson's basement. I didn't notice it before, but now that people keep pointing it out, I don't like my eyes at all anymore. I hate them now."

The science teacher gently pulled the boy closer to him, "Nicky, don't say stuff like that.", he said. "I may not know what Mr. Peterson had done to you to make your eyes change colors, but I promise that I will find a way to get them back to normal. Just for you."

Nicky smiled, "Thank you, sir."

"Anytime.", said Mr. Murtaugh, "Now run along, dear."

The next day, when Nicky got home from school, he was surprised to walk into his room and see a small white bottle. He went over to it and picked it up, reading the label.

"Eye Changer"

On the bottle was a little sticky note, and he read the note as he slowly opened the bottle.

"Put two drops of these in your eyes each day and your eyes should be back to normal in no time."

Nicky went to the bathroom and opened the bottle, talking a small bit of it in the tube attached to the cap. He slowly held the tube over his right eye and gently squeezed it, a single drop going into his eye.

The same thing he did to his other eye.

He blinked a couple of times. When he opened his eyes a little bit, he noticed that a small hint of jade was shining through his brown eyes.

He pressed his face to the mirror and smiled so wide, tears falling down his cheeks.

Soon enough, his beautiful jade eyes would turn back to normal, and he'd have his old self back in no time!

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

I've only watched the first 5 episodes and I'm obsessed! I am convinced that there is no part Jesse Lee Soffer can play that I won't love. I went to binge on some content for him and couldn't find anything (Big sad). So, I had to make sure he had at least one story. I'm still learning his character so this is probably not perfect.

Wes Mitchell Key 

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking. The relationship wasn’t new but had been long since the beginning. Now you were standing in front of his apartment door, one travel-on bag thrown over your shoulder. You had jet lag from the flight all you wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on.  

But now standing here anxiety twisted in your stomach clawing its way up your throat. You reached in your pocket pulling out a key. It felt heavy as lead in your palm and caught the light in the shine of the new metal. You had never used it before and half wondered if it would even really work in the lock. 

You and Wes had been officially together for eight months after steadily talking for three. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wes had trust issues. He didn’t talk about his childhood much, but the random snit bits that he had shared you knew it had been on the rougher side. He was slow to trust and despite his apparent mastery at reading suspects needed blunt direct talks to know where he stood in his personal relationships. 

You two hadn’t seen each other in person more than a handful of times. It had forced a strong foundation built on communication and genuinely enjoying the other company as opposed to falling into bed together because it was easy and lonely. Wes had openly admitted that he tended to do that in a lot of his previous relationships because he “wasn’t good alone”.  

It had been a major red flag and forcing you to keep the pace slow. He was charming, funny, and incredibly good looking and you didn’t want to get your heartbroken.

It didn’t stop you from falling in love with him.

Neither of you had uttered those words yet. Wes didn’t seem like the type to make that proclamation without meaning it and you didn’t want to back him into a corner. 

The feeling of him keeping parts of his life separate from you had caused more than one fight. It always happened in the same pattern. You would bring it up, he would acknowledge that he did it and promise to try harder to be more open. For a while, he would and it would get better but he always seemed to hide behind that last layer of protection. His reflex to protect himself at any cost. You loved him and tried to be patient with what he was working through but the pattern was incredibly frustrating.  

The last one had stuck pretty well. When he came for a week's visit, he had given you his key. He hadn’t said it but you knew it was his way of showing how much he trusted you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been an empty attempt to appease you. After all who would go across the country to actually use the key?  

You had only been to his apartment in Budapest once and he came to see you three times. When you met him, you didn’t even have a passport. While seeing each other hadn’t been frequent, the sex was always absolutely mind-blowing. 

Now you felt like quite the hypocrite as you had been hiding your own struggles from him. Things had gotten so bad, so overwhelming at home that you had packed a bag and paid for a flight on a whim. You couldn’t even remember if you packed underwear. Your brain had been like watching static on a TV and it was only halfway through the flight that you remembered that Wes wasn’t even home. He was currently in the Netherlands.  

You felt a gaze fall heavy on you. You look over your shoulder to see a man watching you stand in front of the door holding a key and making no attempt to open it for way longer than necessary. You scrabbled to put the key in the lock and let out a grateful yet slightly surprised breath of relief as the key twisted in the lock butter smooth. 

A glance back showed the man's suspicions seemed settled as he headed down the hall. Then you remembered the alarm and rushed in to type in the password letting your bag carelessly fall to the ground with a heavy thunk. You watch in anticipation after typing the code in. Wes would be the type to constantly change his code but the light turned blissfully green.  

You turned around to see the almost obsessively neat living room. It had a modern feel but it felt only half lived in like Wes hadn’t completely moved in even though he had been living there for over a year now. It looked exactly the same as when you had been there last. The only difference is the lack of pillows and blankets thrown on and over the couches. It was clear that he had done that for your comfort when you had been staying there.  

You stared blankly into the space. Should you call Wes to let him know you have invaded his home? A yawn forced itself from you and your exhaustion came over you in another harsh demanding wave. It had been over a 12-hour flight and you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Thoughts of calling Wes were easily forgotten with the promise of sleep.  

You walk into his room and are washed in the scent of his cologne and aftershave still barely clinging to the enclosed space. It brought a soft comfort to you. A tease of his embrace. You paused thinking about how awful you must smell and all the germs you had no doubt gotten from the shared space of the airport and then the plane. Your fickle mind had you turning on your heel to the shower turning the water hot.  

As you rinsed off you noticed the only product that Wes had was a 3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You didn’t even have it in you to care as you scrubbed yourself down with it only unconsciously noticing how awful it made your hair feel. You dried off sparing only the bare minimum amount of time towel-drying your mess of tresses before climbing into his bed. You sank into it with a sigh cocooning yourself in his blankets and before you could think twice you were out like a light. 

Wes entered his apartment quietly. Resetting his alarm before heading to the bedroom. He set his bag down gently as he headed to the bed. He sitting beside you brushing the still damp and tangled tresses off your face. You barely moved still deep in sleep. His eyes analyze you worriedly before leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Wes had been gathering his things when his phone had chimed alerting him that someone was at his door. He glanced briefly at his phone thinking it might be a person walking too close to his door or a package arriving he had forgotten he ordered. He had done a double-take when he realized it was you. You hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by.  

He thought maybe it was a surprise visit. It had been a while since you had seen each other in person. The long flight explained why he couldn’t reach you the last few times he had called. He quickly dismissed that notion. You knew he was still in the Netherlands doing a job and he had given you no idea of when he would be back because he hadn’t known himself. If that wasn’t enough there was your slumped posture, hair thrown haphazardly up in a messy bun with thick chunks of hair escaping, only one carry-on bag thrown over your shoulder. He could feel your exhaustion through the screen, not the excitement you usually had when finally getting to see him again. 

He had watched with growing concern as you just stood at his front door with the key in your hand. You stood that way for so long that he thought his video might have frozen. It stung when he realized it was indecision. He had silently willed you to open the door but still you stood unmoving.  

His stomach clenched with guilt. It was his fault that you were hesitating. You had told him you felt like he had a life he didn’t want you to know. That he always had his walls up. He knew the truth and accepted the burden of trying to fix it. He thought he had been doing a good job and that it wasn’t a big deal.  

Watching you fight with yourself if you were truly welcome in his home or if you would be invading it spoke louder than your words ever could. They cut deeper too. Far past the walls that he had spent his life building. He was just about to call you and tell you to go inside when your head whipped backward clearly startled by something. Then you turned back with purpose and put the key in the lock. It didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for. You hadn’t chosen to go in, you had been pushed too. How long would you have stood there without that nudge? 

The flight home was short but it felt long. His mind was in fix-it mode and whirling with what was the right thing to do when he got home. He wanted to talk to you about your relationship. There was nothing more he wanted than you being around. How deeply he cared for you. He wanted to know what that hesitation meant to you about your relationship because he knew what it meant to him. 

Even though Wes desperately wanted that to be the first thing he did. He knew it wasn’t the right one. He needed to find the underlying cause of what would cause you to spontaneously fly across the country. What had happened? And how did it build up that fast? Hadn’t he just talked to you a few days ago? You had been a little quiet but it had been late your time so he hadn’t thought much of it. Had he missed something so major? How long had whatever it was really been going on? 

Wes tried to suppress his worry not wanting to alert the team that you were there until he knew what was going on. He knew an attempt to run when he saw it, he had done it enough himself. When the group had asked if he wanted to get some drink before they had all returned home, he had feigned tiredness. He had beelined for his home. 

Wes smoothed the blankets over you gently, considering his options. He sighed deeply standing up. You looked vulnerable and small twisted in the blankets and curled up into a ball. You were in a deep sleep. You had barely moved since he had walked in. It wasn’t worth waking you up.