#and B. if there is moving air at all (a fan a breeze anything like that) I am immediately no longer feel like I'm overheating

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! I have a couple weird blood-pressure-related questions, both for people with low blood pressure issues and people without

I already know from previous questions y’all have helped me with (and doctor reactions) that it’s extremely weird that my allergic reactions first raise my blood pressure for several hours before crashing my blood pressure, so I’m just leaving that out for these questions 1. Do you ever find allergic reactions affect your circulation? Specifically, making your hands and feet extremely cold?  2. Do you ever find if you are having unusually high blood pressure readings (if prone to low blood pressure), that it happens when your hands and feet are very cold? 3. Does your ability to produce body heat ever, like...stop working? Like you have a blanket over you but it just will not warm up at all, wake up in the middle of the night because even though you’ve got three blankets still over you and it’s 70 degrees inside the house you’re freezing and the bed just will not warm up? I’ve gotten around this by making myself a hot water bottle on days when I can’t warm up, but like, that’s weird, right? these questions brought to you by today’s Weird Medical Thing, where I appear to be having a mild allergic reaction but my fingers are so cold the thermometer* can’t read them and my toes are so cold they ache. I am wearing slippers, have two layers of blankets over me, and it’s 72 degrees in my house. This is absurd.  *sometimes when I feel cold I take my temperature to see if I actually am cold enough to have dropped my body temp (get a hot water bottle time) or am just feeling cold (put on a hoodie time)

[she-karev]

First Date (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev's Sister Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Chapters : Two of Four

Age Rating: 12+

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev's Sister)

AN: Here’s part two of three the last chapter will be posted hopefully by tomorrow but for now enjoy this chapter. The next two chapters will be posted tomorrow.

Summary: Amber and Andrew go on their first date.

Words: 1898

It’s 6:45 and the T-Mobile stadium is already packed with people. I’m standing outside in the rain wearing my black North Face rain jacket holding an umbrella. I read that it rains in Seattle about 150 days out of the year which is more than it rains in Iowa or New York. I’m still getting used to the wet weather, I’m used to cold breezes though so that’s a good thing. I’m pretty much the only one with an umbrella because all of the other fans lined up outside are clad in either Yankee’s or Mariner’s hoodies.

I fully agree that the Yankee’s suck but the Mariner’s haven’t had a great season either so I just opt for a black v neck with skinny jeans, black combat boots and a red scarf around my neck. I decided to go with casual for tonight because we agreed to start slow and a dress with do me pumps doesn’t scream slow. He’s still trying to get past my relation to Alex and I am trying not to bring it up not that it’s hard not to. Plus talking about our families will open a Pandora’s Box of misery that will scare him away.

I finally see him get out of a cab and run towards me in his black jacket, jeans and a beanie. He looks at me with remorse for leaving me out in the rain for the past 15 minutes, “Hey I’m really sorry I had to move some things around and the cab I took arrived late and for some reason she likes to drive like a senior citizen. But I’m here now and I think if we hurry, we can get the good nachos.”

I shake my head at his lack of baseball knowledge, “Nachos aren’t the main baseball food it’s hot dogs. You know what we’ll discuss this later let’s get inside the line is long enough already.”

Andrew takes my hand in his and leads us inside the building where a long jam of people crowded one of the arched entrances. Andrew paused to pull out the tickets and gave one of them to me and held my hand as we kept walking with me behind him. The stadium wasn’t just filled with people it was filled with sounds too, from screaming to laughing. We took a few steps toward the shortest line we could find and soon I was between the wall and the crowd.

A sudden unease raced through me and I was familiar with it. No, no, not here, not now Andrew is oblivious to my racing thoughts and feelings of being trapped. I try to remember the breathing exercises I was taught but it’s been a while since my last incident and I left my Bcalm in one of my boxes back in my place because I didn’t think I would need it. I try to draw in breath but it was impossible. The air is stale and hot from all the bodies and it was like my nose was stuffed with plugs.

Panic hit me hard and fast and I froze in line even when it was moving. A coat of sweat was breaking out on my forehead, my chest tightened. Black spots started to swarm my vision and I knew in the moment what I needed to do but I couldn’t do it. Nobody noticed it I mean how could they? A girl having a panic attack in a large crowd is like a needle in a haystack. Fear paralyzes me in that moment and I couldn’t do anything even with the college kid behind me yelling at me to move up.

Andrew turned around and even in my state I could see him. He looks at me with concern and walks toward me and gently grabs my arm.

“Hey are you okay? What’s wrong?” I hear him talking to me but his voice sounds like it’s distorted which means this attack is just as bad as I fear.

I try to get past it and have words come out, a few get past my lips in a whisper, “P-Panic attack need…need to…b-breathe.” Andrew looks at me worriedly and immediately walks us away from the crowd. I clench his arm holding on for dear life and exhale as we exit the stadium. I have never been happier to feel the cold air and rain on me. I move away from him so I can get room to breathe and sit on the bench.

Andrew moves toward me and pulls my scarf away from my throat and it helps a lot. The rush of air is a welcome relief on my hot skin. It only helps a little and without the crowd I finally hear myself hyperventilating. I am so overcome with this need to breathe that I don’t even realize Andrew is here and witnessing me at my absolute worst. I would have gladly taken cursing over hyperventilating on a first date. 

Andrew holds my face in his hands and turns me to face him instead of the street, “Okay Amber look at me you’re having a panic attack it’s okay I’ve got you. Take a deep breath in do what I’m doing, nice and slow.” Andrew breathes in slowly and I copy him managing to pull a breath into my lungs, “Good again.” He repeats and so do I. Normally a new different fear would arise around Andrew’s proximity but instead his hands on my face and the rumble of his voice loosened the constrictions in my chest, “Do you feel better? Are you getting air in your lungs?” I stare at his serious and caring expression and nod, “Okay good let’s keep going until you feel better.” We kept breathing together a few more times and I felt my heartbeat steading and the tension exit my body.

When I finally felt more in control I pull Andrew’s hands away from my face and wipe my damp forehead with the back of my hand. Instead of facing him I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground trying my hardest not to cry. I was about ready to sob not because of the panic attack but because of the shame and embarrassment that replaced the anxiety. I try not to look at him because I can imagine he looks scared and freaked out that his first date with me was trying to get me back from a panic attack. God, I want to die.

He rubs my back as a soothing gesture but I still don’t look at him, “Do you need anything? Water? I can run inside and get some.” I’m thirsty but all I want to do now is go home under my weighted blanket and never talk to him again.

“N-No I’m good…you should go though the game is about to start and you bought the tickets.” I try to give him a way out so I can save myself the shame but he is relentless as I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

“I don’t care about the game.” I don’t know if he’s staying out of concern or pity, “Can you walk home or should I call us a cab? Where do you live?”

“Columbia City it’s a studio.”

“My place is closer we can walk there it might help you and you can spend the night.” I close my eyes at his kindness. Most girls would find it endearing but right now I feel like crawling under a rock and never coming out.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll feel a lot better if you did, come on let’s go.” Andrew takes my hand and we both stand up. I finally look at him and see that he’s genuinely concerned about me. I don’t know if it’s as a doctor or as a date but truth be told I don’t feel comfortable being in a tight space after what happened and his place is a lot bigger than mine. Hell, the on-call rooms are bigger than my studio so I nod and we walk side by side away from the park into the city at night.

After about 30 minutes of walking, I felt better as the cold air and movement was good for me and dispelled the threads of anxiety that remained. We didn’t talk the entire way, neither of us initiated conversation and I am so grateful for that because I wouldn’t know what to say or how to explain this. We finally reached the house which surprisingly looks bigger than most residents can afford in a big city.

“Nice place.” I say numbly, “I thought you were staying with Dr. Robbins.”

“Yeah, I was but her kid came back and I needed to move out so I’m living with Dr. Hunt until I find a place of my own.” I nod and look down in shame and he catches it, “Are you okay?”

I sniffle, “…I am so sorry.” He looks at me in pity over my sadness and tries to cheer me up.

“Hey, come on it’s just baseball at least I didn’t spill a drink on you or hit you again.” The corner of my lips goes up slightly at his attempts to make feel less like crap. Despite the slight amusement in his tone his eyes are dark with concern. I have had bad dates before but having a panic attack in front of Andrew and him coddling me like a child, God in heaven.

“I’m not a basket case.” I state bluntly trying to put it out there. Andrew looks taken back by what I said but responds.

“I never said you were. Come on you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the sofa tonight.”

I look at him touched, could this guy be any more perfect and could I be any less? “You don’t have to do that. You can sleep in the bed with me I won’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind at all.” Andrew asks to be sure.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we slept together only those were much better circumstances and I wasn’t such a crock pot.” Andrew looks at me as if offended I’m being so hard on myself.

“Hey.” I look at him, “You are not a crock pot or a basket case. I’m pretty sure those terms are outdated and it’s okay I’m not mad. Don’t be so hard on yourself it’s not like you caused a panic attack to get out of some stupid game.”

“I really didn’t.” I say kicking myself again causing Andrew to be stern.

“Stop it it's not your fault. Let’s go inside and get some sleep okay?”

I nodded at his request and we headed inside the house without even speaking to each other. We go to his room where Andrew gives me a red flannel shirt of his to wear for the night. After taking my clothes off and slipping into the shirt with the bottom reaching the top of my thighs. I opt to shower in the morning because I’m exhausted and just want to pass out. As soon as I lay on my side in bed and pull the blanket to my neck, I close my eyes and let the lull of the night take me.

Next Chapter Here

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here!

A/N: I apologize for all the profanity in this part ahead of time. I think I’m going to do M/W/Sat updates, as long as my writing permits, and then maybe Wed/Sat updates. I got the day off because it snowed so I thought I would post this since it’s ready haha

* Well you’re royally f*cked

* There’s a big stupid smile curled on your face, and every time you try to hide it, it just comes back wider

* You really shouldn’t be happy right now

* “What has you in such a good mood?” Edward’s got a matching smile of his own.

* Oh shit. It’s fine, you’ll just play dumb.

* “How do you know I’m happy?” How about the dumb grin you’ve got on your face you stupid b*tch.

* You would have smacked your own forehead if you weren’t aware Edward was watching your every move

* You’re lucky Edward’s nice and he doesn’t call you out on it

* “Whenever you’re happy it kind of radiates off of you,” his voice lowers “you know because of your powers”

* Ah, you didn’t know you did that

* “So what do you think about the new girl?” You blurt it out like it’s an intrusive thought

* F*ck. Just-okay just play it cool. Play it cool.

* F********ckkkkk what’s wrong with you.

* Is being happy making you act like a moron?

* He shrugs

* “Just another human, I kind of wish everyone would shut up about it though. Having to hear people talk about her and think about her is getting annoying. It’s like being in a tunnel with one too many echoes.”

* Ah, so he hasn’t noticed yet.

* “I wonder what she’s thinking about.”

* Edward just shrugs again.

* What the f*ck Edward take a hint!

* “Edward?”

* “Yes dear?” He has the nerve to grin after using that pet name. The criminal is teasing you. Some best friend.

* And still it makes you outrageously happy

* You have to force your smile into a straight line

* “What’s the new girl thinking?”

* He looks over to her, Tyler and Mike are fighting for her attention, both of them a moment away from tugging on each arm and shouting “mine!”

* You see him search, you’ve heard enough about his powers to know right now it’s like mall food court level of chatter for him, but in a few seconds he’ll focus on her and realize he can’t hear her thoughts.

* Knowing how prideful he is though, he’ll probably deny it.

* “I don’t know I can’t read her mind” he says bluntly. “Do you think the school music teacher would teach me how to play violin if I asked?”

* “What?!?”

* “I know it’s kind of inconsiderate to ask but-“ you click your tongue

* “No not that!” You gesture towards Bella “you can’t read her mind?!? Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”

* His eyebrows thread together

* “I can’t read your mind either”

* Yes but you’re from a completely different world, in a body that radiates despair (and apparently joy now). You’re basically like some type of eldritch being from another dimension. 

* Edward doesn’t see it that though

* “Honestly it’s a relief, one less mind I have to tune out.” He walks ahead of you as you stay motionless in the middle of the hallway

* What the f*ck is happening?

* “Are you coming? We’re going to be late for Biology if you keep lagging behind like that.”

* How could you forget? The whole story starts because Edward is super into Bella’s blood! He fantasizes killing her for like- the entire class period.

* You were worried for nothing, just because they didn’t have the cafeteria moment isn’t that big of a deal

* The thought makes you both relieved and a little sad

* Still it’s for the best, this is the way things are supposed to be

* And who knows, if you have to leave maybe you can poach Rosalie and Emmett to leave with you

* And maybe Jasper, he won’t like having a human around the house all the time

* “Mr. Cullen, Ms. Eleazar” Mr. Banner hands you each a worksheet.

* Oh right the onion cell worksheet. Ah right the mitosis crap. Well hopefully Mike remembers enough that you both can hobble through

* “New year means new seating arrangement!” He tells you both excitedly. The seating arrangements on the projector.

* “Why am I next to Edward isn’t the seating arrangement supposed to be alphabetical?”

* “I decided to go by grade this time, you should be happy! Aren’t you two...friends?” You can tell your teacher is confused by the nature of your relationship, almost as much as you are. 

* “Super happy Teach.” You mumble taking your seat next to Edward who’s grinning like an idiot

* “You can’t say he’s picking favorites when it’s merit based.” He grins and you roll your eyes

* Angela’s sitting next to Ben Cheney, they seem to be discussing the trigonometry homework, and how it’s basically impossible

* Oh right, he’s supposed to be her boyfriend this year. 

* Personally you think Angela could do way better. But love is blind, you’ll ship it if you have to. 

* And right on cue Mike walks in, Bella following close behind. He takes his seat on the table behind you while Bella talks to Mr. Barnes

* “Why didn’t you guys sit with us at lunch today?” Mike is practically leaned over the entire width of the table.

* Before you can say anything Edward snorts

* “Because (Y/N) was getting lectured for staying out all night again”

* Mike looks like his eyes might pop out of his head

* “W-what? Out all night?! Without inviting me!” You roll your eyes.

* “He’s making it more dramatic, I went out for a run early in the morning because I couldn’t sleep and everyone was freaking out because they thought I got kidnapped.”

* Like any vampire or human stood a chance against you and your violent mood swings

* Mike’s so caught up in lecturing you about how you need to be more careful

* “There’s a lot of weirdos out there!” Yeah you live with them

* That he doesn’t even notice Bella’s taken a seat next to him

* Now that you get a better look at her, she is kinda pretty. She’s the kind of person who probably always looks good in photographs, no matter what the angle. Nice cheekbones and big brown eyes. Modest on boobs and butt, but she’s skinny so it works for her.

* “Hey, you’re Bella right?” You give her your friendliest smile, and you don’t miss the light blush that blooms on her face.

* You’re not sure whether it’s from your beauty or because she’s just not used to so much attention. She just nods.

* “Have you already seen the three whole things there are to do in Town on a Friday night?”

* Bella actually laughs at that. She’s got dimples, and little wrinkles that show up at the corner of her eyes. It’s cute.

* “One of those things is going to the library, so really it’s only two things.”

* She giggles again.

* “Is the other one going over to your house to play monopoly?” Mike asks, a grin arching onto his face

* “No my house is out of town, the other thing is to go to the school football game”

* “I’m not really a big fan of football” Bella hesitantly says, and Mike and Edward laugh

* “Yeah no one here does, everyone goes for the half time show, or just to hang out.” 

* You’re pretty sure your entire friend group only goes to the games to see your cheer routine, especially this year since you’re captain now. The first junior captain in a long time apparently. The news actually made the local newspaper.

* Everything is going good, and you’re starting to think maybe you and Bella might be friends.

* “Why don’t we have a board game night at our house again? Last time was-“

* You stop sentence, you were having so much fun you almost forgot why Edward was so obsessed with Bella.

* The slight breeze from the air conditioning brings her scent to you.

* You cover your mouth and nose with your hand

* Her scent is REVOLTING

* “(Y/N), are you okay?” Mike asks

* You vaguely feel Edward’s hand on your shoulder, has he not caught her scent yet?

* It’s pretty hard to miss

* Like gym socks, with a overly sweet base, it’s like-

* Your head snaps up, and your hand clamps over your mouth and nose even harder, but not because the scent is revolting

* She smells like cheese, perfectly aged Gorgonzola cheese, or maybe Brie?

* You smell the sweeter undercurrent stronger now, it’s like warm juicy peaches

* Roasted peach salad tossed with Gorgonzola and olive oil

* How many times have you dreamed about eating that while basking in the warm sunlight

* “I knew you shouldn’t have eaten those leftovers at lunch,” Edward says, but you know it’s performative, thank god he’s still got some sense after smelling her.

* “Mr.Banner, I think (Y/N) ate something bad, is it alright if I help them to the nurses office?”

* “Yes and hurry!” He’s practically shooing you out as Edward pulls you by the arm

* Nooooo, you wanna smell her moreeee

* You have the sense to not wine and keep your mouth covered.

* Edward doesn’t take you to the nurse, you both don’t stop walking until you’re at the parking lot

* “What the hell was that?” He asks, it’s the first time he’s seemed even remotely angry with you

* He seems more confused then angry though, you’re so shocked you actually sit down on the curb.

* And after a moment of hesitance Edward sits beside you, placing his hand over your own

* “She smells good Edward, like really good.”

* Edward laughs

* “Yeah I gathered that” he shakes his head. “I thought you were supposed to be a picky eater”

* “I aaaaamm” you moan, your head is cradled in your left hand. “She’s like one in a million”

* “You’re one in a million” you lift your head to see Edward looking at you with that stupid sh*t eating grin.

* “Really Edward my life is falling apart because I want to eat someone, and you think the appropriate response is to flirt?”

* To be fair, he’s always flirting, it’s basically apart of his personality at this point

* “You’re being melodramatic.” He chuckles and throws an arm over your shoulder. “Worst case scenario you kill her, Carlisle doles out his funeral punishment-don’t ask, and then we have to start over as freshman again somewhere else.”

* You groan, you finally worked your way up to a junior, you were just starting to get used to this crappy town, you don’t wanna start all over again in a new one

* “What’s the best case scenario?”

* Edward thinks hard for a minute.

* “Best case scenario...the music teacher agrees to teach me how to play the violin and I impress you with my magnificent playing.” You smack him on the arm.

* “Not the best case scenario for you!” You know he’s doing it on purpose. He just wants to make you laugh

* It works, you do laugh. How much more absurd could this situation get?

* “Everything’s going to be fine, if Jasper can handle having to smell 300 students he thinks smell good, you can handle 1.” 

* He’s got a point

* “Wait-didn’t she smell good to you?” Wasn’t that like, the whole d*mn point?

* His eyebrows thread together and he shrugs

* “Um, she smelled alright, no better or worse than the others. I’m not sure what you smelled-“

* What you smelled? The rich but refreshing flavor profile is sublime

* The f*cking heathen doesn’t even know what he’s missing

* “But to me she smelled like peaches”

* Well he kinda knows what he’s missing

* “She’s definitely anemic though, there’s a sever lack of iron in her scent” ah that must be that cheesy smell you’re getting

* Well ain’t this ironic. The girl who’s going to steal your best friend is only getting noticed because of you.

* “I don’t know, personally I prefer Henrietta the 3rds blood, but that’s just me” he’s lying, your blood is good and all, but it’s definitely still not on par with a humans blood

* He’s just trying to make you feel better.

* He rubs your shoulder, before patting it and moving to stand up.

* “Now come on, we have to make you eat some human food so you can throw up in front of the nurse and she lets us leave school early”

* You roll your eyes, anything to leave school early huh?

* “Yeah all right, lead the way Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding”

* “Why do you always say that? I don’t brood that much anymore!”

* “You know how some people have resting b*tch face? You have resting brood face.”

* “Says the person who literally radiates despair” you shove him as you both walk towards the vending machine

* You take a deep breath as you watch Edward fumble with the vending machine

* The dork literally sticks a credit card up to the glass and demands the machine give him chips. 

* (Y/N/N) why isn’t this working? Am I supposed to insert my card through this slot?” 

* You laugh. You’re pretty sure he’s not doing this on purpose.

* “You’re supposed to use cash Edward.”

* You watch as he fumbles with his wallet muttering:

* “Do you think it’ll take a twenty dollar bill?”

* You watch in amusement as Edward tries - and fails- to use a twenty dollar bill, and then proceed to use obscure profanities to curse “this vile wretch of human technological advancement” 

* You feel a sigh of relief escape you.

* Yeah, everything is going to be fine. 

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 7): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the General makes you train, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, and plans are revealed. 

wc: 2K

tw: none

a/n: Thank you for being patient, sunshines! 7.5 will be out tonight as a huge thank you to all of my followers and anons who are reading. You all are just amazing. 

masterlist

“Take a break!” The heavy rake is tossed to the ground,and you struggle for air, panting and coughing. Torturing you with the rake-swinging seemed to be Geto’s objective today, and it’s taking the life out of your body. 

As you rest on your back - facing the sky - there’s a massive gust of air above you, and you tilt your head back to see a tiny, raven haired boy standing above you. He’s fanning you eagerly, face scrunched up in frown as he exerts all of his energy on the fan. Your first reaction is to stare at the child in fascination; the next is to laugh. 

“Junpei…” you chuckle, and the child stops, letting the fan drift to his side. “You’re too sweet.” He nods once, huffing out a short breath, then starts fanning you again, making your hair blow back behind your ears. 

“Giving Lady y/n a nice breeze, Junpei?” Geto asks, walking towards you two with the rake in his hand. 

“Yes, Master Geto,” Junpei affirms, scrunching his face up even more as he increases  the force of his fanning. Geto leans on the rake and watches the scene with a small smile on his face, and you allow Junpei to continue his task for a moment longer before standing. You grin at the child, placing a hand on his head as you murmur:

“Thank you, sweet one.” His hair bobs as he bows to you, then to Geto, and dashes off into the camp once more. You watch the child run off, his hair flying in the stale air of the mid-day. 

“You have quite a few admirers, I see,” Geto begins, and you shake your head. “First, little Itadori, now Junpei… who’s next, I wonder?”

“I would like to wager a certain General would be next in line to try and win my hand,” you reply; Geto straightens up immediately and walks closer to you, a lazy grin painted on his face. 

“Well, it seems that General might have quite a difficult time getting past your growing line of suitors.” You both chuckle, and Geto tilts up your chin with a forefinger. You’re prepared to kiss him - well, that is until he stops and says:

“Only six more sets of ten swings to go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

 You can barely bring your spoon to your lips during lunch. 

“My Lady, do you require assistance?” 

You shake your head no, but your arms are screaming please help us. 

It was one thing to have to swing until the sun went down. It’s an entirely different thing to not only swing seventy times but also run laps around the field like a soldier in training. You felt exhausted by the third lap, but Geto encouraged you to run more; his hands on his knees as he watched you turn into a floundering fish on land. 

The other women surely watched you train with a curious eye. No one dares to ask why you allow Geto to reduce you to mush in full view of the camp, even though they know why you let him do it. 

Because he turns you to mush when they’re not watching, as well. 

“Master Geto?” Kaori shouts, standing from her seated position on the tarp laid out in the grass. 

“No, don’t!” you cry out, but she’s already trudging down the field, leaving you behind as she calls Geto’s name over and over again. You curse softly, sitting down your soup with agonizing slowness and try to stand from where you’re sitting, but your legs will not move an inch. 

“She can barely move; how do you expect her to eat lunch and remain healthy if you render her arms useless? Then you walk off, leaving her to her own devices! You don’t pay me enough to feed her like you do during dinner.” Kaori is stomping back up to you, followed closely by Geto, who is shrugging on his haori and appears to be rather alarmed. “You should take better care of your captives, Master Geto. Look at her!” 

You try your best to look as painless as possible, but the facade is broken when Geto extends a hand out and you grimace as you try to reach your own hand out. His face falls instantly and without speaking, he hoists you up into his arms. “Kaori, bring her soup, please. I’ll feed her myself.” Your head rests against his broad chest limply, and the way that his heart beats wildly against your ears oddly soothes you. You’re in pain, yes, but you’re not completely immune to the way he makes your heart stutter and trip over itself when he’s near you. And you’ve never been as near to him as you are now. 

“When you are in pain, you need to say something,” Geto chastises as he lays you in the bed, folding a fur up before resting you against it and sitting beside you. “Kaori made it sound like you were dying.” 

“I wasn’t dying,” you retort. “I tried to prevent her from saying anything.” 

“So, you thought I wouldn’t find out later?” When the head maid deposits the soup bowl into Geto’s hands, he looks up at you and raises a brow. 

“No, I--” 

“Open.” A spoonful of clear onion soup is presented to you, and you obey, knowing your argument is completely lost already. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re here,” he continues, offering another spoonful. “You should let me know when you’re struggling, or when you need something.” 

Your mouth is full of soup, so you can’t reply like you want to. But what would you even say? Would you tell him that you’ve been struggling between your plan - which had been altered slightly over the past few days - or would you tell him you needed him in more ways than one?  

“Master Geto,” a voice calls out at the opening of the tent. You don’t recognize the voice at all, but when the person walks through the flaps, you recognize his face. His wide, dark blue eyes are all-too familiar, and the young man’s mouth presses together in a thin line at the sight of you being spoon-fed by Geto. This is the same man who captured you when you tried to run away the first time. 

“Yuta, I’m glad you’re here. What do you have for me?” Yuta… The name rings a bell along with the memory of Nanami mentioning him when talking about the new emissary. Yuta produces a thin roll of brown paper and hands it to Geto. 

“They’re not going to send another emissary.” The implications of this knowledge brings the weight of the world down on your shoulders, and you look to Geto’s face, which is blank. 

“Wait, but that means--” you’re quickly interrupted by Yuta’s sharp eyes cutting to you, and Geto chuckles. 

“That means I’d better get you all settled in the next village as soon as possible.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“What if the elders don’t agree to his plan?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori runs water down your arms before answering softly. 

“Then he will wipe the village out, my Lady.” 

“But how? And single handedly?” 

“I won’t claim to know how he does it. I have never been privy to his methods, nor would I want to be.” 

You think about Kaori’s words long after the bath was over, alone in the bedroom and wrapped in furs. The thought of Geto slaughtering an entire village is chilling, but his truly ruthless side was not something you had been exposed to. You shake thoughts of death out of your mind and stand from the bed, dragging the fur pelt behind you as you stride over to Geto’s desk to eye his newest plans. 

The page full of black and red ink marks is unfamiliar to you, and you can’t make heads or tails of the drawings despite looking at it from different angles. The mystery of the paper engrosses you fully - so much so that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind. 

“They’re formations.” Yuta speaks behind you, and you jolt, knocking your hip against the table. 

“I b-beg your pardon?” you stutter, clutching the pelt around you tightly. 

“Formations... for battle.”  Yuta reaches over to point at a circle and then to the arrows moving away from it. “This is the center of the formation - where Master Gojo will be - and this,” he points to the triangle at the head of the formation. “Is where Master Geto will be.” 

“Why is Gojo well-protected and not Geto?” The inquiry is met with laughter as Yuta slides the paper away from you. 

“He’s not being protected. He’s protecting everyone else.” 

“And when is this occurring?” Yuta raises a brow, looking over at you with a tender gaze. 

“Haibara and Gojo are negotiating with the closest village as we speak, but we could encounter the Imperial Warriors at any time. This could happen tomorrow, if I’m being honest.” 

“Tomorrow?” Your shock doesn’t affect the young man at all, and he steps away from you, eyeing you carefully. 

“I won’t say anything further. Geto is protecting you from this information for some reason, and has obviously commanded Kaori to say nothing as well.” With this, he exits, and you’re left looking at the squares, circles, and triangles while wondering where you fit into all of this mess. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your encounter with Yuta gave you more questions than answers, and when the bed dips behind you, you roll over to meet Geto face to face, intent on getting answers.

“I thought you were asleep.” You don’t respond to the statement, instead sitting up fully and pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“You should have told me that you could go to war at any time.” Geto frowns, sliding in next to you and tilting his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting on word from Haiba--” 

“And that. What happened to my village after you took me?” 

“Little one, I haven’t touched your village. You would know if I made any decisions about the fate of your peers.” 

“Kaori doesn’t know what happened to her family, and she’s just a maid! Why would you feel obligated to tell me - a captive - about my family?” 

“You’re more than just a captive to me, y/n. You know that,” he whispers, blinking slowly. 

“Right, I’m a pawn,” you grunt. “I asked you to tell me your game, and now I’m asking you again. What do you plan on doing with me while you’re away at war? I know you’re not stupid enough to leave me here while you’re away and can’t keep an eye on--” 

Geto puts up a hand, trying to stop you from speaking. “You’re right, I hav--” 

“Did you know I tried to run away?” The General looks at you, face blank. “But I came back and…” You fumble for the words, but they don’t feel right in your mouth. So, you rephrase. “I came back because…” You pause. You remember the reason you justified coming back, but it doesn’t make sense now. You can’t even say you followed your own plan. It had fallen by the wayside the moment Geto’s lips met yours; that you knew for a fact. 

“Nanami watched you; I knew you left the tent the moment you began walking across the camp,” he admits, and your lips part in surprise. “But you turned around. I came to confront you after dinner, and that’s why I was at the tent when you started to yell. My anger overshadowed my disappointment, but then even that was overshadowed by my desire to have you.” 

“Then why--” 

“I’m not leaving you here; you’re absolutely right about that. I wanted to wait to tell you when the time was right, but… I suppose now is the time. Your carriage will leave as soon as Gojo and Haibara send word back to me about the village. I’m sending you home.”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ 

[reawritesthings]

Rooftop | JJ. Maybank

gif by @rudypankows​

Summary: When Sarah forces the pogues to go to a Kook party, JJ dips early and notices you on the roof, reading peacefully.

Words: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you all for the support on my other fics, it really means a lot to see the love you give me. If you like me to write for anyone, please send me an ask! thank you all again🦆

                      ☼☼☼☼

"WHY are we even here?" JJ's exasperated tone of words sent the Pogue's including Sarah to eye roll.

"I would much rather be on my couch watching Monster Inc." JJ's childish tone evaporated around the North Carolina frightful breeze that lure them further into the land of predators.

Sarah huffed not wanting to row with the blonde beauty. She frankly understood his anti's of not wanting to prey on the sharks or even share the same air with them, but, Sarah was still a Kook and JJ needed to accept that.

"J, we can just head in there for an hour... drink their alcohol and leave." John B proposed letting his athletic, sternly hands fumble his way into Sarah's palm gifting her with a reassuring squeeze.

JJ's mind was like a cymbal-banging monkey toy that only worked when the indigo eye boy was frustrated and needed leverage, "We are about to attend John B's girlfriend ex-boyfriend's house party because Sarah's ex-boyfriend invited her, and only her." JJ dramatically paused to reminded everyone how fucked up this particular mission is.

"And, here we are, the pogues forcefully dragged by Topper's ex-girlfriend to attend this disgraceful party that could end in two possible ways.."

"Enlighten us." Pope's static tone of sarcasm intrigued JJ to finish his perfectly thought out rant.

"A fight breaks out, or Rafe loses his shit." JJ's arm folded whilst a devilish smile grew onto his bruised porcelain face that everyone admired about the surfer.

"I hate to agree with Scobby but he has a point." Pope's loyalty to JJ never failed him.

Kie and Sarah kept moving forward, dragging their danity flipflops through the frozen golden grains of the earth that held the rich side in place. Being the only two girls of the group they were used to the constant complaints from the men.

"Next time, I'll just invite you Kie." Sarah muttered under her minty breathe. Kiara only nodded in agreement reaching for the handle to enter the shark's den.

"Best behaviour," Kie announced immediately locking eyes with JJ who was infatuated with the silhouette of another human.

"Can't make any promises, Kie." He winked as his eyes were still glued to the frame of darkness that interlocked with his mind that he should be up there and not here.

"Here we go..." Sarah murmured under her breath. "What could possibly go wrong?" Kie shot her eyes back to Sarah who only swung the door opened to be slammed with harsh tones coming from the stereo.

Topper was known for throwing the most extravagant house parties. The music was as loud as thunder; it made the empty beer bottle rattle. Neon lights that were glued to the white walls flashed everywhere like police sirens, but with much more inviting colours.

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. Topper, Rafe and Kelce were chatting up some ladies as there vision was blinded by a bunch of Pogues roaming around like cockroaches.

"What are they doing here?" Kelce mumbled against the illuminated ruby plastic cup that Rafe already broke through his rage.

"Topper is still whipped for my sister." Rafe truthfully announce, causing the blonde short skirted girl to loose interest in his friend.

"Thanks man." Topper's eye rolled extended further as he noticed John B clutching his arm around Sarah's frame, like he used too.

"Anytime." Rafe smirked pulling Kelce's bright yellow polo shirt towards him to confront the intruders. Topper soon joined, staying behind Rafe as he didn't want his perfectly structured face to be bruised.

"What are you rugrats doing here? You aren't allow to be on our turf." Rafe spat not even making eye contact with his younger sister whose frame was hidden behind John B's and JJ.

"We got invited. We just came here to get a little drunk and we will be on our way." JJ broke the silence, squaring up to Rafe's face.

"Don't make me bust your other eye, Maybank." Rafe threatened, clenching his palms ready for another battle.

"Wouldn't dream of it." JJ took Kelce's red cup from his hand drowning the stinging sensation that drew him away from the crowd.

"Where you going?" Pope shrieked as he didn't feel comfortable being left with John B, he wasn't exactly scary like JJ.

"Washroom. I'll be back." JJ reassured his best friend, whose hand was tightly gripped to Kiara's whose face wasn't enjoying the sensation sound of Topper's music taste.

JJ's curiosity always managed to get himself into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. His mind was reverted back to the shadow of a young female who was on the roof. He knew he shouldn't be preying around Topper's house but, he would of regretted not knowing who that girl was.

His tiny frame ran smoothly around the second floor, each creak that he created with his ripped combat boots made him squint, he noticed a slight acute door open slightly with a streak of light hitting the wooden floors.

The bedroom was furnished on a expensive budget according to the serval layers of blankets that were freshly pressed on the double bed. A messy pile of book were scattered across the white carpet that was caressed with a circular rug that was neatly combed.

He looked up at the walls, admiring the pictures that were taken on a film camera.

"Whose's this girl?" JJ thought as he circled the room, slowly resting his palm on the slik sheets wishing he could have a room like this.

Since JJ was in a trance of what his life was like if he was Kook, he was startled by a soft tune of a sneeze coming from the windowsill. His intrigue body motioned away from the bed, heading towards the half adjecent window that his mysterious girl was resident.

JJ's instincts were never wrong when he assumed the shadow of a girl on the high roof. His head turned towards you, your fully eclipsed body was tainted with a summer dress that fit well on your skin. Under his brief gaze on your exposed skin, you didn't flinch or withdraw from your book. Your shape was already forming into womanhood, yet you were roughly the same age as Sarah: Your twin brother's ex-girlfriend. You revert your attention out of the flood of flowing words and focused them on him, he was something out of a novel you read once.

Dashing, adventurous and fearless. You were polite and offered him a seat next to you, letting the moon expose your vulnerable side which JJ instantly stole as he gently brushes his shoulder against your own.

JJ eccentric side was displayed out in the open and didn't hesitate to make the first move. "What's a pretty girl like you doing on a roof?"

You sauntered in, feeling provocative whilst you brushed your hair from your dainty shoulders, letting his kindly eager cornflower eyes follow your movement.

"I'm not really into the whole drinking vibe... My brother on the other hand is." JJ's pupils grew larger as he pieced the puzzle together, he knew he wasn't the smartest earthling on the island but he just couldn't see the resemblance between you and your brother.

"How is that possible?... Topper has a sister?... Why didn't Sarah mention anything?"

You personally thought his reaction wouldn't be inviting but, his reaction to the news lured you in more like he was siren calling for you. "Well, when my parents had Topper... they decided to conceive again, making me."

JJ nudged you chuckling at your comeback, "I know how sex works. I'm a Maybank."

"Noted." You candid staring at the apex of the deep sliver circle that brought the both of you together.

A heavy silence evaporated over them, thicker than the mucky air making the tension more uncomfortable. Both of your eyes glanced unceremoniously around turning to avoid catching each other glances that happened in the space of a minute.

"What you reading?" JJ noticed an earthy hued of brown colours stuck to her embrace which JJ gazed forced him to stare to create a new conversation.

"Charles Dickens, Great Expectations." He noticed your awkward zoned face shape into a curious, cheeky smile that he first noticed when he intruded.

"Cool. I don't read but Charles Dickens is a great man. One of the best lads out there, wonder what he is doing now?" JJ wondered having no idea that he is in fact six feet under.

You burst out a giggle with a sentiment rosy colour appeared on your cheeks, "Hate to break it to you but the lad is dead. He has been dead for centuries."

JJ was perplexed by your statement. He generally thought he was still alive due to Pope always speaking about him as if he was a local. "I knew that. I was testing your knowledge on Charlie."

You chuckled playing along with his shenanigans but you would be lying to yourself that you weren't intrigued in the fact that he was sitting here when he was supposed to be downstairs. "How comes you are up here? I thought Pogues loved a good party, especially if there's alcohol."

JJ shrugged darting his eyes to meet yours, "Don't take it personally but I'm not a fan of Kooks, especially Topper and his gang."

And this, you thought was going to be the end of your story with the blonde boy. You weren't shocked that he degraded your brother and his friends, you understood the reason.

"I get that. If it makes you feel better, I don't exactly agree with their rules and how they treat you guys. You deserve the same respect we get because one day, Shakesphere's novel of Romeo and Juliet might come true and, I personally don't want to kill myself..." You flirted in a way which the boy would probably take days, in fact, months to work out the metaphor.

"Does that make me Remi?" JJ joked as he kind of liked the way your nose scrunched when he didn't understand literature.

"It's Romeo..." You corrected him again.

"I know. I just wanted to see that little nose scrunch you do when I mess up."

You were stunned that he paid attention to little things about you. It wasn't every day that someone would paid attention to Topper's sister, especially a Pogue. You could sense that he was actually interested in you, and even the novel you were reading.

"Whatcha thinking about, Juliet?" JJ teased letting his hand move the strand of hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your acute ears.

You shrugged, "I just..." You paused, you didn't want to pride your thoughts on the Pogue as you didn't want to scare him away.

"C'mon, pretty girl. What is it?" He interrogated you. He looked down at your fingertips, loosely fighting with each other as you were struggling to form words. He initially engulfed his hands into yours brushing your soft skin to ease your mind.

"You are kind of the first guy to ever notice me, or even pay attention to me... I'm just don't want this night to end." You stutter but with every stroke, he did made your nerves drift away.

JJ instantly brought his broad arms over your waist, pulling your body against his. In seconds your bodies moulded into one. JJ never let another human be so close to him like this, not even Kie. You were different, you weren't like what he thought you would be. There was a purity to you, naivety perhaps, but with a scent of innocent that JJ wanted to protect from the creatures of the night.

You, on the other hand, felt something inside you ignite as his arms firmly were wrapped around your frame. His embrace was like a welcoming invitation to his life, which you would accept in a heartbeat. You didn't really want the party to end nor wanting the moon to disappear as that meant your story was ending.

"You see those two stars that are moulded into one... that's you and i. Whether you feel lost or feel alone, look up into the starry night and call me." JJ managed to sound romantic for a slight second which only made you blush more.

"Poetic... I like it Maybank." You winked whilst your hands fiddled around with his countless threaded bracelets. "I like this one the most... the colours match your eyes."

JJ immediately took the bracelet off, offering your hand. "You can have it. I've seen you admire it since I got here. I have plenty back at home, so this is my peace offering."

You silently accepted the gift, watching the bracelet fit perfectly onto your bony wrist. "It's beautiful." You muttered to yourself.

JJ curved his lips as he slowly lifted your chin up, to get a good view of your face. He admired every little detail but concentrated on your lips. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips went closer to yours, lighting pressing a small kiss to your rosebud shaped lips. When he kissed her, her identity fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting for the both of you as your tribes rival melted away. JJ's hand rested below his ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as he kept the flow of their lips going neither of them wanting to stop but, the calls from his friends parted them away.

"I better go... they are probably worried that I've got into a fight or something." JJ's face frowned watching your own do the same. "I'll see you tomorrow night, here."

"Are you sure? I don't want you getting into trouble..." You felt your walls began to build, each brick that layered made it harder for you to think that he would ever get into trouble for her, a heartless Kook.

JJ hooked his arms to your neck, "Don't worry about a thing, pretty girl."

You nodded, letting him steal another kiss from you as you watched his frame leave yours. A gush of emptiness flooded your body, as it called for him but he was already gone, vanished into the mucky air of North Carolina. You rallied back to your book, looking down at the texture smiling down as you saw him leave with his friends.

"JJ, where did you go? We were looking all over for you?" Sarah was the one who instigated the conversation since the rest were zoned out.

JJ kept it at a minimal, he didn't want his juliet to be known especially not to Sarah, "around."

Sarah hummed not believing anything JJ was saying. As they entered the van, Sarah noticed a small figure exiting from the roof, "Is that Y/N?"

JJ looked up, watching as you were clenching onto your book rather than watching your balance. "So that's her name.." He muttered to himself giving his face a warm smile.

Sarah turned hearing JJ's comment but decided to play along, "I wonder what she is holding?"

Without even realising JJ answered, "Charles Dickens. Great Expectations."

Sarah only smirked leaving JJ to slam his palm onto his mouth, feeling the metal sting his bruised chapped lips.

"We're you macking on with my ex-boyfriend's sister?" Sarah interrogated the blonde beauty.

"Let's just say that you need to tell me all the ways to sneak into his house." JJ blushed, letting his left foot bring his body up into the van.

Sarah followed behind, looking up one more time to see you peeping, "You got it, lover boy."

masterlist TAGLIST

tags: @outrbanks, @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s, @jjjmaybank, @rudyypankow, @prejudic3, @afterglowsb-tch13, @summerintheobx and @void-maybank

[rhaenyratargeryn]

Title: sense

Pairing: Adam x F!detective

Summary: just a little scenario I imagine absolutely happened at some point.

Notes: ao3 link

***

“Oh, thank god— Nate, please be the voice of reason here.”

The detective’s tone was one of intense exasperation, her hand rubbing across her eyes as she stood in the Warehouse kitchen opposite of Adam, who was appearing equally perturbed. A deep line had settled between his brows and he had crossed his arms at her words.

Nate suddenly regretted having not gone the other direction.

“Yes, please. As sense has seemed to have completely evaporated.” Adam countered, his eyes trailing over to Nate expectantly.

At a loss, Nate smiled faintly, “... what am I voicing upon?”

“She is putting herself in a position of unnecessary—”

“Adam doesn’t want me sleeping with my windows open!”

The detective erupts over Adam’s voice, earning a cool glare from the other man. Upon moving his gaze to meet Nate’s utterly bewildered one, his pale skin seemed to flush just a fraction. Realization of just how preposterous the detective’s explanation made him seem flitted across Adam’s eyes for the barest moment before he shoved it down deep.

“It is an issue of safety. Anyone could enter through that flimsy screen.”

“I’m on the second floor!”

“As if such a thing would be an issue for a supernatural.” Adam said, rising up taller, as if he’d won with that statement, “You would be safer staying here if you wished to sleep in such a way.”

“If supernaturals are coming to break into my apartment I don’t think glass or locks would be an issue either!” the detective said, throwing a hand up and out to the side in a gesture of utter annoyance.

Adam had no retort for that.

Nate wondered idly if they would notice if he slipped back out. He got his answer when Adam turned to him, eyes as near to pleading as the older vampire could get.

“She has a point,” Nate said slowly, gauging the way Adam’s expression shuttered.

“Fine.” Adam said with bite, “But do not expect us to come running when you place yourself purposefully in harm's way.”

He turned and exited the kitchen, the detective’s words following behind.

“It’s just a window! For goodness sake!”

Once it was obvious Adam had no intention of returning to the conversation, she sat down with a soft thump into one of the kitchen chairs, attempting to return to her coffee and breakfast with minor success.

“How on earth did this start?” Nate asked after a moment, moving to take a seat across from her with a rueful smile.

“I just mentioned how I was happy the weather was cooling down in the evenings… the air is nice and I sleep so much better at home when it gets all cozy like this.” the detective sighed, “And Adam well— was Adam about it.”

“He just cares.” Nate offered, an insufficient excuse for certain, “This is how he shows it.”

The detective looked doubtful, but did not question the honesty of Nate’s words.

--

There was no way she would stay at the warehouse tonight after that display. The detective returned to her own apartment, throwing open both her bedroom and living room windows the moment she arrived and enjoying the chilly air that had settled in the twilight hours.

She brewed a mug of tea and settled into her plush papasan chair, tucked a few pattern pillows out of the way and opened a book. It took awhile for her to turn her thoughts away from her own act of stubbornness, which had in turn put her back into the argument from that morning.

Theoretical arguments with Adam were a constant daydream, right next to the ones where he didn’t flinch when she reached out to touch his face.

It didn’t help that the novel was littered with romantic subtropes and finally, with a sigh, she closed it after darkness finally settled across the room. The detective closed the living room window a fraction, as was her usual routine and shut off the lights, heading to the bedroom.

That window she left wide open, changing into her pajamas even in full view. No one was typically out on that section of the street this late and she was high up enough not to worry about anyone getting too much of an eyeful. Even so, she changed quickly, keeping her bare back to the glass as she tugged on a large t-shirt.

After, she shut off the lights and curled into bed, sighing contentedly at the way the ceiling fan spread out the chilled, night scent of fresh clean air. It was nice after having to spend so much time keeping the heat out to huddle beneath the blankets and slowly drift off.

The detective had just fallen into a soft dream when her phone chimed. Groaning, she turned her face into her pillow.

The phone chimed again. And again. And then finally began to ring.

Throwing her blankets off, she fumbled for the device in the dark and answered.

“...speaking.” she mumbled, barely annunciating her title and name. On the other end, the familiar voice of a patrol officer greeted her.

“Hey, sorry to bug you so late. You got a sec?”

“Sure, sure.” she yawned.

“We keep getting calls from folks in your apartment block. They say there is some weirdo hanging around. Big hulking type. Got folks worried about break ins. Have you seen anything? I’m halfway across town so I figured I’d save the trip if it was nothing.”

The detective took a deep measured breath, held and let it out.

“It’s okay. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah. No problem.”

The officer thanked her profusely, apologized again for waking her and then once they hung up, the detective selected a number from her contacts and plopped back against her pillows.

The answer was quick.

“Commanding Agent Du Mortain.” came the clear, professional answer. Too clear. Too professional.

“Where are you?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I am patrolling.”

“Good, maybe you can help me then.”

“Is something wrong?” his voice lifted, the mask of disinterest fading.

“I got a call from an officer. Says a hulking, unscrupulous and unsavory character is loitering around my apartment parking lot.”

Silence.

“Have you seen anyone like that?” the detective continued, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

“Did you tell them it was handled?” came Adam’s terse, unamused response. The detective thought she heard the sound of his footsteps.

“Yes. Ya know, if you want to keep watch? In the future? Do it from inside.”

There was silence for a prolonged moment and then, the detective startled, sitting up and rushing to find the light at her bedside table at the sound that came from her hall.

“I am inside.” came Adam’s voice, both from the phone and the outside of her bedroom door, sounding way too smug.

The detective threw off her covers completely and marched to the door, throwing it open.

“As I said. Entirely unsound. You did not even hear me remove the screen—”

“Adam.” she said, voice terse and annoyed and tired. Whatever she hoped to say next was lost as her shoulders hunched forward and his expression softened a fraction.

It was then he seemed to note more fully her attire, standing before him in nothing but a thread-bare t-shirt that was so large it hung off one shoulder and a pair of boyshorts. The detective felt the sudden tension roil to the surface, warm and familiar and yet distant. Out of reach.

He swallowed thickly and the detective began to wonder just how long he had been outside her window.

“Just stay here… if you’re that concerned.” the detective said with a sigh, turning and crawling back into bed. She turned to look back at him, noting while his body was frozen his eyes had followed her every step of the way, blazing with vibrant green at the sight of her, half-dressed and lazing on the mattress.

“... I… I cannot.” Adam was at a loss, the prospect no doubt making his head spin and his heart hammer as intently as her own.

“You can. Since it isn’t all of the team, you should be able to find a place to sit out there.” she said with a nervous laugh, the spell breaking the moment Adam realized what it was she was offering. Tension rolled off his shoulders, relief in his exhaled breath.

“You meant in the living room.”

“Where else would I have meant?” the detective replied, making a point of lingering near one edge of the bed, leaving the side closest to him open and terribly inviting. For a moment she enjoyed watching the way his breath puffed from his lungs before catching. That tiny flicker of wanting that he snapped back up and hid down deep the moment it dared rear forward.

“I guess you could always bring a chair in here,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms above her head until the t-shirt rose up high on her waist, revealing the bare line of her thighs. She relaxed and watched Adam’s eyes follow the hem back down.

Without a word, Adam vanished from the doorway. For a moment, the detective felt her heart seize, worried she’d pressed too hard.

But in a moment he returned, one of the antique padded, high backed chairs from her small dining table in hand.

He set it by the window, making a point of glancing out over the parking lot before he sat down.

They lingered like that for a moment, the sound of insects, the soft breeze of the wind outside and the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan filling the silence.

“I’m going to turn the light off.” the detective warned quietly. Adam gave a nod. She leaned over and flicked off the switch, sitting for a moment in the darkness until her eyes adjusted and she could make him out.

He was watching her.

She settled under her blankets, stilling once she had become comfortable again and finding the sleep that had been right at the forefront of her thoughts suddenly illusive.

“...well, good night.” she said with a soft, nervous laugh. Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it. No. She knew he could hear it. She willed herself to calm, letting her thoughts fade to the daydreams that helped ease her into sleep. Every once in a while she heard him shift, the sound of fabric, of the chair. His presence was a soothing one, even if it did also make her heart skip and patter in her breast.

It took awhile, but eventually her pulse settled and slowly she drifted back off to sleep.

--

The sound of her heart was like that of a rabbit caught in a snare at first, thrumming with beats and the flow of her blood, rippling like a stream. Adam had felt his own racing to match, falling in pace now as it settled and slowed.

He tried not to move. Not to make a sound. As if doing so would make his being here less— real. Less present.

It did not help.

It only took an hour or so before he could tell she was truly and wholly asleep, her soft breaths deep and even. At that point, Adam felt himself finally able to relax, able to set fully to the task of keeping a watch out over the complex.

This was why he preferred her to stay at the warehouse. Where he could stand watch without her ever knowing he was there. Which he did—every night she stayed with them. Distance made his chest ache, restrictive and demanding. Searching. As if his heart would escape his ribs if it could to seek her out, only calmed when she was near.

Adam knew this was not just fear for her safety. Knew it was deeper than that, but still refused to place the words that so obviously described the feeling to it.

But now, in the dark, in the quiet calm, he let them flit through his head.

He missed her when she was gone. Without reason. Without sense. Which was why he tried to attribute something rational, something vaguely resembling reason when he argued why she should remain at the warehouse. With them. With him.

This, Adam supposed, was suitable enough.

She shifted in her dreams, the blanket pulling from her legs as she clung to it. After a moment, she shivered. Adam stood, pulling one of the soft quilts from the bed out and laying it over her. He smoothed his hand down her leg from the knee, resting his palm on her ankle until she calmed once more.

He had to fight the urge to lift his hand, to retrace the soft path it had just taken. When the feeling was well under control, he returned to his spot by the window.

When the sun rose, Adam would be gone.

But for now, he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.

[holykillercake]

Coin Stealer

Trafalgar Law x psychic!Reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: Law does not believe that you can see dead people, so you crochet him the strange-looking beanie of the strange-looking man that walks around the Polar Tang. 

highlight: ¨I´ll give a chance to the uniform, and I´ll only address you as Captain when you behave as Captain.¨

warning: You are entering Trafalgar´s room. 

notes: Bello, ma people! This is the 3/3 part of a lovely anon request in which the s/o makes them a thing with crochet! This time is Dr. Heart Stealer edition!! I really enjoyed writing this, and it got a little long, but I did not want to cut off important things. Anyway, I hope you like it!

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!

¨Hey, Bepo! Have you seen Law?¨

¨Y/N! I don´t know where he is... I´m sorry.¨

¨Oh, it´s ok!¨ you patted the mink´s shoulder, giving him a warm smile. 

You were never a big fan of his constant apologetic personality, but you couldn´t deny that you missed it during your time apart from the crew. 

The Heart Pirates had parted ways a long time ago when your Captain decided that the time to put his life-long plan in action had finally come. The crew split into three parts, and each one followed a different path. 

After the sudden disappearance of the Strawhats, the Paramount War, the Rocky Port Incident, and Law obtaining his title as a Warlord of the Sea, you were the first to depart, remaining in Sabaody Archipelago, waiting for the owners of the Thousand Sunny to return. You fought alongside a fishman called Hacchin, a weird guy that reminded you of Black Leg and other allies to protect the ship. 

Next to leave was Law, who sailed to Punk Hazard, where he formed a partnership with a crazy scientist bastard. Then the rest of the crew went on their own towards the island where you would meet once the plan was concluded.

The trajectory was not smooth by any means, but you did it, all of you. And now you feasted along with the Strawhats, celebrating whatever it was that you did not understand. Maybe they were like that, or maybe they didn't understand the risks you would take from now on. 

Anyway, the crew seemed to be in need of some music and fun, and you were too busy looking for your Captain to care about that.

In the midst of the evening breeze, the crackling of the fire, and the barrels of beer crashing in celebration, you saw the answer you were looking for.

Of course.

¨If I didn´t love you...¨ you growled as you made your way out of the island to reach the Polar Tang. And let´s face it, that was a detour.

You went straight to your room, where Law would probably be sipping coffee, napping, or just running from the crowds. And just like you, it has been months since he stepped on his own ship and slept in his own bed. 

So maybe you could cut him some slack. 

However, as you approached the room, there was no smell of coffee. No smell of coffee and no light snoring. Just a stillness carried with heavy emotions and your boyfriend, sitting in the dim light holding tight the crochet piece you gave him years ago. You swayed in place, expecting that thing you made to provoke him to be at the sea bottom.

¨Wondering why I kept this?¨ he asked. 

¨Not really.¨ you replied. ¨But I am surprised. Am I disturbing?¨

¨You never do.¨

You jumped on the bed, sitting beside him and resting your head on his shoulder.

¨YN-ya... do you know how he...¨ the question struggled to come out.

¨Peaceful.¨ 

¨Hm.¨ he nodded.

¨I don´t like when he smiles, though. It creeps me out.¨ His body bounced slightly as he joined you in a chuckle. 

¨Remember when you gave me this?¨

¨Of course, you almost kicked me out of the ship!¨ you giggled with the memory.

¨You were really annoying back then.¨

¨Hey! Objection!¨

¨Objection rebuffed.¨ he smirked and moved on the bed, pulling you to lay down on his chest.

You told him to shut up before cuddling in, not falling asleep immediately. None of you said much. Instead, you enjoyed the calming and comfortable silence of each other´s company. 

It has been a while since you had that. 

You remember every moment of your early days as a Heart Pirate. You and Law hadn´t started on the best terms, but he needed you - well, your skills - and you were given a good deal. 

The pivot of your history together began on a chain of coincidences. The first one being both of you docking on the same island. The second one was him finding a rare coin for his collection, the same one you would later slip into your pocket. 

You wandered around towns using the beautiful art of distraction to get anything you wanted from anyone. Watches, necklaces, wallets, and, well, coins? It was all he had in his pocket, and since it was a cute one, you decided to keep it. 

Some called you a thief. Some called you a burglar, and some may even have called you a big son of a bitch. But the thing they all had in common was that none of them knew exactly who they were calling those names. 

The thing is, you messed up the first rule and made eye contact with him. Well, it was more of you not being able to take your eyes off of him. He stood out in the crowd, and you had gotten cocky. So when he later found out about the missing coin, it did not take him long to connect you to it. 

A lot of things went through his mind. He felt frustrated because his Haki failed him, annoyed for the trouble he would have going after you, and intrigued by the touch so light he did not feel at all. 

Or that is what he kept telling himself. 

Yes, he was interested in someone with skills like yours, but maybe there was something else he would not admit. The way you looked at him as if you had deciphered his entire life and found the missing pieces of his puzzle. Even the ones he tried to hide. 

That night he went out for your head. Or better, your heart, literally. 

You were enjoying the comfort of your hotel room, eating some snacks, and playing with your new commemorative coin when he materialized himself by the bed. You instantly knew something was about to go down.

Oh, fuck.

That situation got pretty tense pretty quickly, both ends asking things, and no one willing to offer any answers. The stakes were high, glares cutting the air like blades. It did not help to ease the mood when in the sway of his hand your heart popped out of your chest. 

Long story short, his plan was never to drag you to the Polar Tang. Law wanted you to go willingly, joining his crew in exchange for your heart. However, the unfortunate variable he did not consider in the equation was that you would not go down without a fight. So by the time he reached the ship, he noticed the gentle fresh breeze ruffling his hair. 

You know, since his hair was usually covered by the hat. 

...

THE FREAKING HAT!

The next morning when he returned, you were waiting for him with a satisfied smirk bending your lips, the hat on your head, and the coin dancing between your fingers. 

At some point, you had stolen it, and once again, it passed unnoticed by him. That was not a good night for the Heart Pirates. And that was also the night Trafalgar Law realized a couple of things. The first, he needed you on his crew. And the second, you were going to be the death of him. Or maybe the aneurysm of him, he would not give you such credit. 

¨You´re late.¨ you said, amused, and his grip tightened around the sword.

¨What´s your name?¨ he repeated the question you dodged several times during your last encounter. 

¨What´s with the dog?¨ you pointed at the tall, white polar bear wearing a uniform. Law pursued his lips, breathing heavily through the nose.  

¨I am B-¨

¨Bepo-ya don´t talk to he-¨

¨Your name is Bepoya?¨ you ignored the man, bumping into his shoulder as you walked towards the mink ¨Hi, I´m Y/N! Nice meeting you.¨  

The polar bear looked back and forth at you and his Captain, not knowing how to behave in this situation, so he apologized and stepped farther back. 

¨Alrighty, now that we are all introduced, shall we go?¨ 

¨What?¨

¨Come on, Law, focus.¨ you snapped your fingers multiple times, teasing him. ¨You came here to pick me up, right?¨

¨No. I want my hat back.¨ He tried to grab it, but you ducked in time, holding the hat on your head with both hands. It was so soft. 

¨How about a trade? The coin for the hat.¨

¨How about my hat for your heart? Do this, and I won´t...¨ his words died in his mouth as he clutched his pockets. 

¨Looking for this?¨ You held your heart, wrapped in a cold and gelatinous box that you retrieved when you bumped into him minutes earlier.

How could you fool him again? He kept seeking answers that explained why it was so easy for you to outwit him, and his expression showed. 

¨You´re getting close, Law. Put your little trash can to work.¨ you tapped your temple, smiling mischievously at him. 

¨YN-ya, you know I can kill you, right?¨

¨Yeah, but you won´t.¨

¨How do you know?¨

¨I got a sixth sense for these things.¨ 

The rest of the conversation did not take long to come to an end. Amid sarcastic comments and threats to each other's lives, what should have been the pinnacle of the moment became a random passage in the Heart Pirates´ logbook.

¨So, YN-ya, do you want to join us? You´re gonna have to wear a uniform and address me as Captain.¨

¨I´ll give a chance to the uniform, and I´ll only address you as Captain when you behave as Captain.¨

Law sighed, giving himself a carotid massage ¨Ok. Let´s go.¨

He walked a few steps ahead of you and Bepo, wondering why he spent so much effort on an arrogant thief that wouldn't even call him Captain.

You quickly became friends with the polar bear, even apologizing for calling him a dog. He strangely apologized for your apologies, culminating in what would almost make the notorious Surgeon of Death suffer a stroke.

¨What the hell is that?!¨ you shouted when the Polar Tang entered your field of vision ¨That´s not a ship!¨

What if I am claustrophobic?

The ya thing is a schtick?

Death? That´s a little borderline controversial for a doctor.

Trafalgar more like Trafraude!

On occasions like that, Law wondered how peaceful and quiet would be the sixth level of Impel Down. From a current perspective, your initial interaction served as a vaccine, creating the necessary antibodies Law would need to deal with future pirate alliances. 

The crew got attached to you very quickly. Your adventurous spirit, your stunts, and street trades fascinated them. Losing bets against you seemed acceptable, your card tricks and the thing of guessing the numbers they thought was like fuel for a good day at work.

Law didn't seem to mind that much. After all, you wouldn't get him on his nerves if you were busy with them. However, one day, you let slip something that caught his attention. 

¨YEAH! That´s exactly what she looked like! How did you do this?!¨ 

Law heard Shachi´s roar, followed by a wave of surprised ´ooh´s coming from the kitchen, where the majority of the crew hunched around the dinner table. 

The doctor leaned against the door, silently observing what could possibly be more important than keeping the ship working. He had been drowning in files all night, and now he decided to have a coffee break. That mess early in the morning did not make him happy. 

No one seemed to be too intimidated when he cleared his throat, announcing his presence. Everyone greeted him with smiling 'good mornings' and turned their attention back to you.

 ¨What is going on here?¨

¨Captain did you know Y/N can see dead people?!¨ 

The coffee left a bitter aftertaste on his mouth.

¨What?¨

¨Yeah, Captain!¨ Shachi yelled on Law´s face, earning a death glare ¨She just described my mom!¨

¨Really, Y/N-ya? Now you´re a magician and a psychic?¨ he asked, taking the seat across from you. 

¨The perks of being me.¨ you shrugged. 

¨Do you see more dead people here?¨ 

Yes

¨No. But you sound a little skeptical, Law.¨ 

It was way too early for that discussion, but your biological clock didn't seem to care. Whenever Law came with his teasing, you would be ready to strike back.

He gave everyone a lecture about empathic accuracy and how good you were reading cues communicated by words, emotions, and body language. Or some crap like that. 

¨Ok, let me see if I got this right.¨ You shifted in the chair, hands moving in the air ¨You can pull organs out of people´s bodies, cut them in pieces without killing, switch their souls, but you do not believe that I can see dead people?¨

He tilted his head, but not giving you an exact answer.  

¨Do you wanna know what I think?¨

¨No.¨

¨I´ll tell you anyway. I think you have something you don´t want people to know, like a soft spot or a tragic past.¨ you sought the answer in his eyes ¨I´m guessing a loved one who died?¨ 

Overall, he was not wrong. You were a master in reading people´s body language, but you were not a jackass. So when the slight twitch of his mouth cleared up your doubts, it was time to stop. 

You knew how it felt, soft spots, tragic pasts, or late loved ones. There was no need to go further and throw more salt on his wounds. Hopefully, that taught him a lesson. 

An awkward silence ensued while everyone watched the scene, uncertain how to act, fearful that an extra spark would make everything explode into massive destruction.

¨Whatever.¨ he sighed ¨Show´s over. We´ll be reaching land in a few days, and we should be preparing to dock.¨ 

When everyone left the kitchen to go about their businesses, you remained alone with the figure that constantly wandered the submarine. He didn't do it in a creepy way. Despite his extravagant makeup and the intimidating aura, he was not a bother.

And it wasn't like he was there all the time, definitely more than anyone else. His passages were guaranteed on the days when Law was more sensitive. For bad or for good. He would look after him from the distance like a parenting figure. 

¨Who are you?¨ you murmured under your breath. 

For the next few days, Law made sure you were too busy to foster discussions about dead people or paranormal abilities.

When your services stealing rare supplies or getting answers to your Captain's questions you weren't required, you would help him with mountains of paperwork.

Only this time, he had outdone himself.

He managed to assemble the annual check-up of the crew, the inventory packing list, and the update of the logbook at once. This last one could easily wait until after you docked. But that freaking workaholic sadistic surgeon would not let this opportunity slip. So you pulled several all-nighters writing, signing, and stamping, all without exchanging a single word.

When you emerged, a few miles from land, you barely enjoyed the fresh breeze and sunlight. The crew hopped around, getting ready to put their feet on the continent as you sat in the kitchen profusely grouchy.

Your brain was fried, burnt, carbonized. 

¨You´re not coming?¨ Penguin asked, and you shook your head. ¨It´s been a while, Y/N, you should come.¨ you shook your head again. ¨I guess you´re not buying anything for the Captain´s birthday as well.¨

An incohesive question came out of your exhausted being. Penguin couldn´t help but feel sorry for you. ¨By the time his birthday comes up, we will be underwater, so everyone is preparing.¨ 

¨Do I have to?¨

¨No!¨ he chuckled ¨He doesn´t really like it, but we still buy him something.¨

¨Why?¨

¨´Cause he is a good Captain!¨ he said and sprunt out by the voice of someone calling him, waving goodbye at you. 

 It wasn't that you didn´t think Law was a good Captain. It was just an inherent nature of yours to clash every time you looked at each other. 

But on such occasion, you could combine the useful with the pleasant. After all, you were grateful because he gave you friends. Of course, he was the unfortunate by-product that came with them, but you could handle him. 

So fighting against your will to stay and sleep, you forced your way out to the solid ground, hoping to find the most random store someone could wish for, a haberdasher. 

Much to your delight, you did it. You picked a burgundy color wool and the first hook you put your eyes on and returned to your soft bed. 

The chances of you having scared your crewmates by staring at the blank for hours were high. In reality, you wanted to memorize and come up with a pattern for the strange-looking beanie that man wore. 

It had no pompom at the top like Penguin´s. Instead, two long pieces of fabric ran down from each side with heart-like things hanging.

When the sixth day of the tenth month arrived, Law´s desk was cluttered with presents. You had decided to wait until you were done with work and heading to bed to give it to him. 

After conquering that task, you locked yourself in your room, where you stayed until you had it finished. For some reason, you bothered to buy a box to put it in. Whatever.  

On the sixth day of the tenth month, Trafalgar Law could not focus on work. Every slight movement of yours, every bathroom break got him jittery, rehearsing words that wouldn´t make you hate him more. 

Not that you ever hated him, but you didn´t talk, so he didn´t know. After some time starting small talks and being ignored, you just gave up trying. 

By the end of that night, he had given up too. So when you placed the golden-yellow box on his desk, he couldn´t vocalize his feelings. It became just another silent night. 

Chests tight and hearts clogged with unspoken words. 

Law did not work for the next couple of days, and if he left his room, no one saw. The gifts on his desk were not even opened. Everything was left the way it was. 

Maybe you had crossed a line. 

As you marched up to the room at the end of the hall, several paths popped into your mind. You could act like you didn´t care, so what if you left? You had been alone for so long, it wouldn't make any difference! Still, something was begging you to apologize. To ask to stay, because being there was good, everything you never knew you wanted.

You were ready to pack your bags and have your title as a Heart Pirate retracted when you woke up one morning, finding a note on your desk telling you to meet him in his room. Your nails dug into your sweaty palms. Where did this tightness in your chest come from?

When you set foot in the room, your eyes hovered around. It was the first time you saw Law's room. It was exactly how you thought it would be.

Keeping your gaze locked on his was more difficult. He was sitting in an armchair near the foot of the bed. From afar, his appearance remained neat, as always, but as you approached you saw the circles under his eyes even darker. A thing you didn't think was possible.

For the first time, you didn't know how to read his expression. And seeing him vulnerable like that made your stomach drop. So you prepared yourself for the worst. However, to your surprise, all he did was ask you questions. 

No snarky remarks. You just talked.    

That day something changed. And from that day on, Law had found someone to help him carry the unbearable weight he had on his shoulders, and you found a place to call home. 

                                                             ...

¨Y/N-ya.¨ he called you, who was a cuddle away from sleeping.

¨Hm?¨

¨Before you left, in Sabaody...¨

¨Uhm.¨

¨You stole the coin again, didn´t you?¨ 

You giggled and pulled the commemorative coin from your back pocket, snuggling closer to his body and feeling the vibration of his chest as he chuckled.

Extra notes: I hope you had enjoyed it! It came out a little too long, but I have been feeling like I´m limiting myself when it comes to the number of words... I don´t know, I´m confused. 

Anyway, is that pink and red that I see on the horizon?

[jeyramarie]

The lucky compass- Pogues x OC

summary: John B’s optimism took his friends on a wild goose chase, thanks to his compass. 

wc: 4,910

a/n: it’s been a while but we’re back!! so excited to work with these characters again and with my bestie @halsmultibitch . It’s gonna be amazing!! If you wanna be tagged, you can ask either one of us. Happy reading 🦋

prologue~ pilot~ 

Previously on Good Life..

They went back to the Chateau, getting onto the dock quickly putting the bag on the floor. Everyone got around John B as he opened the bag and found a metal cylinder. He unscrewed the cap and turned it upside down to let the object inside fall down to his hand. It was a compass. 

The Chateau was quiet as a warm summer breeze invaded the windows, fanning over a sleeping pogue. John B’s slumper got ruined when a loud banging came to his door. 

“DCS, I know you're in there!” the voice shouted as the pogue’s eyes opened in fear. Suddenly someone stomped on the window next to him, making him jump in surprise. 

“Whoa!” a laugh came from outside which he immediately knew it was JJ’s. 

“You should’ve seen your face, dude. Your face was like..” the blonde haired pogue said as he made a scared expression. 

They had planned to go to Ms. Lana’s house that day to ask her some questions about Big John and her husband, Scooter. John B found it extremely weird, the fact that his dad’s compass was on a dead man’s boat. Nothing was adding up. He believed Ms. Lana was the person that was going to clarify most of it. 

“I’m just saying, I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara. She clearly likes you.” JJ said as he fidgeted with his lighter while his foot stayed perched on the dash of the Twinkie. 

“She’s like ‘Oh, John B’.” he said mimicking a moaning woman. 

“Is that what she does?” John B asked, smiling at his best friend and turning his vision back to the road. 

“She’s sketching about you diving, then she kissed you.” 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” 

“Low hanging fruit bro. Don’t pretend you don’t notice. I see it in your eyes.” JJ said, pointing at his eyes with two fingers. 

“You’re like ‘I kinda like that’ and you start blushing.” 

“I blush? How bout you?” 

“Yeah, you do and what about me?” 

“Really? I’m talking about Lani, you blush every time she’s around.” John B asked, smirking.

“Yeah, I don't think so.” JJ reached out for the compass making the shaggy haired pogue reach out too, trying to take it. 

“Hey, don’t-”

“I was just looking at it.” the blonde hair pogue said, looking at the compass. 

“I gotta admit, your father’s compass in Scooter’s boat, that’s freaky.” 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana, figure this whole thing out.” John B looked at the side of the road as they passed the Wreck to see their new friend Lani. JJ saw her and stuck his head out the window. 

“Hey! Lani!” The curly haired kook turned around and smiled when she saw the Twinkie. They stopped next to her and she placed her elbows on the window seal. 

“Sup, guys. Where are you off to?” Lani smiled as JJ messed up her hair. 

“We’re going to Ms. Lana’s. Wanna come?” 

“Yeah, sure.” She climbed into the van and sat behind the driver’s seat and settled in as John B continued to drive. They continued to talk about the compass and the boat while Lani changed out of her work shirt. 

“I’m sure she would love to talk to us. It’s not like her husband just drowned or anything.” JJ said sarcastically as he played with the compass. After a few minutes, they pulled up into Ms. Lana’s house and all of them got out. 

“Know what this house looks like? Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” JJ said and mimicked his hands as if he was smoking. They were all staring at the colorful little hud when they heard glass break from inside the house. John B held his hand up signalling Lani to slow down. 

“Bullshit!” a manly voice shouted, making the boys and the kook stop dead in tracks. 

“Maybe we should come back.” JJ said starting to walk backwards when Lani took his arm and pulled him back. 

“We’re not going anywhere.” she whispered not wanting the intruders to hear her. 

“It’s a little too soon-”

“No, no, shut up. Shut up, JJ.” John B said hurriedly and walked closer to the house with Lani and the pogue trailing behind him. 

“Tell me where it is or i’ll fuck you up!” the man shouted followed by desperate whimpers. 

“I’ll sink you in the fucking-” another man shouted as something crashed making Lana scream. 

“You're hurting me!” 

“I-” Lani stuttered not knowing what to do as her grip on JJ’s arm got tighter.

“Shut up, come on.” John B whispered as he turned to them and back at the house, making his way closer. The closer they got the louder the shouts and whimpers were heard. John B started perching his head by the window when JJ ran to him, pulling him down and out of view in case the men saw them. 

“Still think we should stay?” the blonde pogue said, staring at his best friend and the kook that was somehow dragged into this. 

“The compass wasn’t on the boat!” a man shouted, making Lani’s eyes open wide and turn her head to the boys. 

“Where is it, Lana?!” 

“I don’t know!” she cried as loud thumps were heard near the window above the teens. Specks of paint fell on them making them look at the ground in question. 

“Is that paint?” JJ whispered, messing up his air to remove the specks. 

“Yes, it’s paint.” 

“Ugh, it got in my hair.” Lani whispered with furrowed brows as she grew annoyed by the mess. The men stated they would be leaving which made John B leave his place, getting closer to the front door. Just as he moved his head to look, the men started walking out making him quickly turn with his back pressed against the wall. The men walked down the dock and into their boats, turning on the engine. The boys looked when they were far away enough to not notice anyone.

“Dude, those are the dudes that shot at us.” JJ said, remembering that moment in the marsh. 

“Shot at you? Wh-when did that happen?” Lani asked worriedly, pulling on his arm to make him turn to her. 

“It happened a while back but Kie stopped them in the marsh.” he explained as the kook looked at him with glossy eyes. 

“Aren’t you scared? I mean, people you don't know following you with a gun is not nor-”

“Guys, come on.” John B cutt Lani off and walked up the entrance stairs with JJ trailing behind. The house was a mess, everything was broken, ripped and thrown on the floor. The doors were off the hinges and every glass was shattered. 

“Ms. Lana?” the kook called out looking around as she tried to find the definitely hurt woman. 

“Ms. Lana?” John B said going into the kitchen area and ran after he saw her sitting on the bathroom floor. 

“Hey, hey. Hey! You okay?” he asked as he kneeled next to her and touched her arm making her jump and turn to him. Many questions were thrown back and forth while JJ tried to get John to stand and leave along with Lani trying to make the blonde pogue shut up. The kook was looking out the window, making sure the men didn’t come back when she heard Ms. Lanna shout at the boys to leave. They hurried out of the hud and got into the van, quickly making their way out of there. On their way to the Chateau, they called Pope, Fallon and Kiara to meet them there to make the “meeting” a lot faster. 

They were all gathered on the porch as JJ acted out what happened, exaggerating everything of course which brought Lani to correct him all the time. 

“And we’re right outside like this.” JJ says as he acts out everything that went down at Ms. Lana’s.

“That’s not how it happened J.” she said, making Kie chuckle while Fallon rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“What would you know?” Fallon said in a bitchy annoyed attitude.

“I was there… so… I know.” the kook said kindly leaning against the porch railing.

“You were- What do you mean you were there? Did you invite her?” she asked JJ with grittiness.

“I didn’t invit-”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Everyone looked at JJ and back at Fallon, watching everything unfold. The blonde boy felt bad as he walked towards her placing his hands on her arms in a form of comfort. Fallon frowned as his thumbs rubbed her arms softly. 

“I’m not always gonna call you, Fal.” her eyes opened wide in disbelief and broke out of JJ’s hold, quickly walking into the Chateau without saying another word. Everyone else stayed quiet until the pogue continued his performance on how things went earlier that day. 

“Okay well, all we hear is bam! bam! bam. Knocking paint off the wall, G! From the inside.” he explained as his body manuarism moved to put his hand on the wall. John B heard as his vision stayed on the floor, thinking of what Ms. Lana said. 

“All right? And I'm just looking at him like- Wait, first off, look at this shit.” JJ said, walking towards Pope and Kie to take the paint off of his hair and onto the floor. 

“The house.” Pope started putting his hand out to push the pogue away. 

“That’s dandruff, disgusting.” Kie muttered, making Lani chuckle as she fixed her ponytail. 

“Look at all that. All right? That’s paint.” 

“We know JJ.” the kook said as she crossed her arms, leaning back on the porch. 

“At that point, I was just, like.. I’m waiting for death.” 

“You’re so dramatic, dude.” Lani laughed, making JJ go to her to start poking her sides causing her laughs to get louder. 

“Okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right?” Pope asked, placing his elbows on his knees. 

“Yeah” 

“Did you get a good look at them? What did they look like?” 

“Anything. Anything’s helpful.” Kie said moving a piece of hair behind her hair as JJ parted from Lani’s side. 

“Anything we can bring to a police report?” the curly haired pogue asked, looking at Kie and back at the blonde. He stayed silent for a while as he inhaled from his vape. 

“Burly.” he said, making everyone look at him in question. Lani mouthed ‘What the fuck?’ at Kie making the pogue chuckle. 

“Burly?” Pope asked with furrowed brows not understanding what his best friend had just said. 

“Yeah, you know like-”

“That’s not very helpful.” Kie muttered, taking a deep breath as she lounged back on the chair. They continued on with the questions as JJ walked back and forth mentioning the people that went to his dad’s job. The conversation turned once he mentioned square groupers which caused Lani to lift up her head in question. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie. You do know that right?” the kook said walking across the porch to John B who seemed to be on another planet. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, just… thinking.” he replied, giving the kook a small smile. They both turned to the pogues to hear about the physical appearance of the “square groupers”, as JJ called them. 

“I wasn't taking little mental polaroids the entire time, man. I was under duress okay?” JJ said desperately out of breath. Pope shook his head in disbelief and leaned back on the couch. Lani chuckled and leaned on the railing as she stared at John B while he opened the compass. She was about to ask him a question when he started moving away from everyone, closer to the door as the pogues continued talking. Pope started saying stuff about the compass directly at John when he cut him off. 

“The office.” 

“What?” the kook asked behind him.

“My dad. My dad’s office. He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research.” he said as he walked into the house with everyone following behind. Fallon was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone as they all walked in. 

“What’s going on?” she asked as she stood up and walked towards JJ.

“JB thinks there’s some shit in his dad’s office.” he muttered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. 

“I’m sorry about earlier.” 

“It’s okay.” Fallon smiled as JJ pulled her into a tight hug. Lani was the last one to walk into the house which meant that she saw the whole encounter making her look at the floor and continue to follow the rest of the pogues. Once behind Pope, John B opened the door and walked in. 

“I’ve slept over here like 600 times, and I've never seen this door open.”  the brown haired pogue stated as he walked in behind Kie. The room was filled with papers and files, along with books, all about the Royal Merchant. The pogues and the kook looked around, scared to touch anything in case John B got mad. He found a board with previous owners of the compass and after he told the stories.. Well, it was a death compass. 

“Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment here. Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” he said as he sat down and untwisted the back cap, pulling it off. 

“What’s that?” Kie asked, noticing something scribbled on the inside. 

“That wasn’t there before.” John B stated as he squinted his eyes to read what he immediately recognized as his dad’s handwriting. 

“Can I see it?” JJ said moving next to his friend who held the compass a bit closer to his view so he could read. 

“Red- Rout- No, i think that's an A.” 

“It says Redfield.” Kie and Lani said at the same time and looked at each other as they chuckled. They started thinking about the name and what it could mean which led to John B believing it was a clue. Pope gave the suggestion that it could be an anagram. The pogues looked for some paper and a pen as John B rummaged through one of the desks. As they continued their discussion, Lani walked towards the window and looked outside, trying to think. Suddenly, a black truck pulled over next to the Twinkie making her squint her eyes to see who was driving. 

“Guys.” She started but was quickly replaced with Kie and JJ’s guesses on the anagram. 

“Guys! Somebody’s here.” Lani shouted, gaining everyone’s attention. They all walked to the window and saw two men getting out the truck and walking towards the porch. 

“Guys, guys, is that them?” Kie asked with a worried voice as her anxiety started creeping up from her feet. 

“No.” JJ muttered letting his head fall back in annoyance. 

“Is that them?” Lani asked, looking at Pope with worried eyes. JJ started giving John B the whole ‘i told you so’ speech when the pogue came and pushed him against the wall.

“Where's the gun?” He asked, holding a strong grip on the blonde’s shirt. 

“Gun? I, uh, I can’t-” 

“Now you don’t have the gun, the one time we need the gun?” Kie said desperately putting both of her hands on her head. 

“Seriously, JJ? Now you forget?” Fallon said walking back and forth starting to feel scared. The boys muttered to each other a bit more before JJ bolted out of the room. 

“John Routledge!” a man shouted, making JJ turn back to the office, almost falling.

“Come on out now! Fuck- Where’s the compass?” he shouted as the pogue entered the room quickly closing the door immediately after him. 

“Where’s the gun?” 

“They’re on the front porch, guys.” The blonde haired pogue whispered as Fallon started shaking. 

“What? Th-they're in here? What are we gonna do?” she whimpered on the verge of tears causing JJ to go over to her. He placed his hands on both her cheeks and rubbed his thumb against them, muttering comforting words into her ears. 

“Princess, it’s gonna be okay. Trust me, I’m not gonna let them hurt you.” As the pogue tried to comfort the caramel haired pogue, Lani and Pope were trying to open the window as John B stayed by the door. 

“Why is it taking so long?” Kie asked as she walked closer to the window. 

“It's painted shot.” Pope groaned as he tried to push the window open again. Lani parted from his side and moved to rummage through one of the desk drawers, looking for something sharp. 

“Okay, guys. I got it.” she whispered, holding up a letter opener quickly jamming it into the window seal. The men’s shouts got closer making everyone pressure Lani into going faster.

“I’m going as fast as I can.” 

“Well, you’re not doing enough.” Fallon whispered as she rolled her eyes. 

“Shh.” “Quiet.” Pope and John B whispered, leaning back against the door. Suddenly, one of the men started kicking the door harshly, making it break. At that exact moment, Kie and Lani pushed the window open, quickly climbing out. Fallon and JJ climbed out next, then followed by Pope and John B. The kook ran towards the chicken coop with everyone following. They all quickly crawled in making the roosters crown. JJ sat next to Lani leaving Fallon at the far end next to Pope, which caused her blood to boil. 

After some time, as John B stared through the cracks of the coop the men walked out with boxes filled with books and documents. All from Big John’s office. The rooster never shut up, making Lani anxious with the thought of being caught. 

“Do something Pope, shut him up.” JJ muttered with gritted teeth. 

“What do you want me to do?” the pogue asked, getting annoyed quickly.

“Pet it, or talk to it. I don’t know.” Kie whimpered as the noises got louder. The sound of the trunk closing was heard loudly as the chickens clucked and the roosters tried to fly around. Fallon has had enough, her anger and fear driving her to grab the rooster’s neck, pushing it hard on the floor. Until it cracked making the feathered animal go numb. Kie whimpered as she started to cry, making John B place his hand on hers while JJ wrapped his arms around Lani, pulling her to his side. He started kissing the side of her head and forehead as he comforted her with sweet words. 

“Ratter, what the hell are you doing?Let’s go!” a man shouted, making his partner place his gun back in his pants and make his way to the truck. He closed the trunk loudly, signalling the teens that the ‘square groupers’ were leaving. The sound of tires against the grabble turned less and less loud until it was safe for them to come out. John B got out first, making sure the coast was clear before everyone else followed him. The pogue got everyone in the van and started driving, ignoring everyone’s questions about their destination. The conversation continued being turned to the whole compass thing, again..

“I mean, it's obvious, right? A family heirloom. What better place to hide a message? He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” John B rambled looking at Lani, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and back at the road. Everyone stayed quiet, giving each other sad pitiful looks until the kook broke the ice. 

“Yeah. It’s possible.” she said softly, looking at him with sad eyes. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help- Ow!” Pope yelled, holding his arm after Lani punched it, cutting him off. He looked at her to see the kook giving him a ‘why would you say that?’ look. 

“Bro, you know how I process my sad feels. Dank nugs and the stickiest of the ickies, that's how I do it.” JJ said, making Fallon raise her eyebrow thinking he was high. 

“I’m not concocting, okay? My dad’s trying to give me a message.” He looked at everyone in the van before turning back to the road.

“If it helps you believe, John B.” Kie said from behind him with sad eyes. 

“I don't need a therapy session, okay? I’m not tripping out.”

“It’s okay to trip, bro, but-” JJ shook his head as John B cut him off. 

“My dad is missing, okay? You don't know what it's like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened to them.” Lani frowned and looked at the rest of the pogues in the van.

“It’s been almost a year.” Fallon said sadly as she placed a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“What does the message mean, anyway? Redfield?” Lani said, completely ignoring the pogue as she kept all her attention on John B. 

“Redfield, the name of his favorite place.” Right after he said that, they drove through the entrance of the lighthouse. They drove for a bit more before pulling up in front of the tall building having everyone climb out of the van. 

“Right. You’re gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?” John B said, turning to JJ. 

“Wait.. why me?” the blonde pogue pointed at himself.

“Cause you're not coming.” Pope said, making the blonde pogue turn to him. 

“Why?” 

“There are independent and dependent variables. You’re independent. We don’t know what you'll do.” 

“Shut up!” the blonde yelled pointing his finger at the curly haired pogue making Lani shake her head as she laughed. John B, then moved on to tell them to stay on the lookout as Fallon willingly went with him towards the lighthouse. 

“If we split up, we meet up at JJ’s house.” she said, walking backwards towards the fence as Kie nodded and agreed, turning back to the rest of the pogues. 

“You know, Pope, you shouldn’t really be here.” Lani said, squinting her eyes as the sun got brighter, turning to the pogues who were looking at her in question.

“Cause of the scholarship. If we get caught it’s complete destruction for him.” 

“Right, right. I forgot about that.” Kie nodded as she looked at both sides of the road, making sure no car was coming. A few minutes went by in a bit of comfortable silence as JJ and Lani played with his rubber ball while Kie and Pope stayed looking at the surrounding area. 

“What do you think is going on in there?” Pope asked, looking at the lighthouse as he placed his hand on top of his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. 

“I have no idea.” Lani replied, catching the ball and throwing it back to JJ. 

“And then I look over and he's comforting her when I was the one that had a panic attack in the first place.” Fallon ranted as they continued to go up the stairs, “It’s like she’s stealing everything. It’s fucking crazy.”

“Fallon, you’re literally the only one that sees her as a bad person.” John B chuckles dryly as he finally reaches the door at the top of the lighthouse. 

“She is a bad person.” Fallon muttered as she crossed her arms feeling annoyed. They had found the lighthouse keeper, who started to show them where the Royal Merchant should be. He explained the coordinates and the story as they all walked around the lighthouse to stare at the island’s coast. Everything was going smoothly, until John B pulled out the compass making the man run from them.

 One thing led to another which caused the lighthouse keeper to call the police, making the pogues make a run for it. The ones that stayed on the lookout were playing around or talking when they heard the police sirens. Lani gasped as she saw the police car around the corner having JJ grab her hand quickly to start running to the van. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Pope did the same to Kie, both getting in the back as the other two went in the front. They drove out of there fast, leaving their friends behind as they tried to not get caught by the police. As soon as Fallon and John B, they saw the twinkie driving away making them stop. 

“Oh you have to be kidding me. Shit!” she said, running her hands through her hair. 

“Come on, this way.” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him as they started running towards the beach. 

“You’ve got to admit, that was kind of promising.” John B said out of breath as they walked along the beach getting farther and farther from the lighthouse. 

“I mean, my dad, the Royal Merchant, the ranger, the Royal Merchant. Coincidence? I don't think so!” He exclaimed as he moved his arms to make his point, turning to Fallon from time to time. 

“It’s his job to know about the wrecks, John-” 

“Okay, but the Royal Merchant?” 

“That’s the most famous shipwreck here and Redfield is one of the most common names in the OBX.” Fallon said following the pogue who never stopped walking. 

“This is a wild-goose chase, John B and a really good one.” she muttered the last part as he finally stopped and turned to her. 

“I-I don’t know, maybe we missed something at the lighthouse.” He extended his arm towards the direction where they had just walked from as Fallon shook her head and fixed her hair. 

“We should go back. You believe me, right?” She looked at the floor and then at him with pitiful eyes. 

“I think there might be some light to moderate concocting right now.” 

“Fal, come on. Seriously?” The pogue said as he took off his hat and placed it back on his head. 

“Look, I get it. You miss your dad… I know..” she said, placing her hands on his arms and pulled him in for a hug. 

“You’re losing it and I don’t want you to vanish too. So please, get it together.” Fallon said softly into his ear and parted from the hug, still remaining close. John B stared at her for a bit before he leaned in and connected his lips with hers. It lasted for a few seconds until they pulled away with shocked expressions. 

“Um.. wh-what was that?” Suddenly, he came back from the trance he was in and started to shake his head.

“I’m sorry. I- shit, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“No, it’s okay. I don't even mind… but you know those stupid rules. No pogue on pogue macking.”

“Right, yeah. Rules.” John B said immediately being cut off by police sirens. When they both turned it was Shoppe, coming to take the shaggy haired pogue. They were both taken to the police station to interrogate John B. They were able to leave a few hours later, making him take Fallon home. As he walked back to the Chateau he met with the “square groupers” again which led him to being electrocuted against a fence. 

Once at home, he felt an uncertain feeling as he looked at his father’s office. Every book and paper piling up on the desks along with the family tree board. John B grabbed most of it and took it outside, throwing it into a pile. He sprayed gasoline on it and threw a match, watching the pile turn into a big fire. Something clicked inside his head as he watched it all burn, making him take out the family board from the pile. John B quickly grabbed his keys and drove the Twinkie to pick up the pogues. Finally, stopping at the Wreck to get Fallon, who worked there in the afternoons. 

“She said she’s not coming!” Kie shouted at the pogue as she walked out of the restaurant. 

“What? Why?” Pope asked, poking his head out the van. 

“What’d you do to her, John B?” JJ asked as he turned his head to look at his friend. He got out of the van and stormed into the restaurant to talk to Fallon.

“What do you think he did?” Lani muttered as she doodled on her sketch book, sitting behind JJ. 

“I don’t know but it must've been something big.” he squinted his eyes as he stared out the van window at the docks. It took John B about 5 minutes to get her to go, making him feel relieved once all his friends were in the van. 

The sky turned dark as they drove to the cemetery still following John B’s crazy plan. The Twinkie pulled up in front of the gates and the teens climbed out, immediately pulling out their flashlights. It was closed at that time of night which caused them to jump over the fence. John B led the group to his relative’s tombstone who’s maiden name was Redfield. Now it all made sense. 

Lani had volunteered to climb into it since she was the smallest. Once inside she asked for a flashlight due to it being so dark. She looked around for a bit until she found an envelope leaned against the wall. 

“Oh my god.” she whispered as she stared at it. ‘To Bird.’ it read.

good life: @ilovefandoms102 @agardenofbooks @cloverrover

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (8)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 3.9k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou​​ @ladymidnightt​​ @cheese123344​ @xanny91​ @dinorahrodriguez​​ @best-space-boy​​ @dulcaet​ @moccahobi​​ @keijaycreates​ @staytrillswag​ @xsmilebitesx​ @serendipityoreuphoria​ @jiminot7​ @beyond-the-swag​ @nananaum1​ @mult1wh0re @ditttiii​ @faithsummers11​ @twomilkmen-gocomedy​ @theonewholovestoread​ @karissassirak​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​ @yourlipssoirresistible​ @ayoo-bangtan​ @murderyoursoul​ @btsxdoll​ @see3milyblog​ @gukiyi​ @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey​ @sp3ak-yours3lf​ @cesthoney​ @imluckybitches​ @hd-junglebook​ @sugarrimajins​ @multifandomgirl29​ @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​ @bangtansleftnut​ @theresa-nam-nam-me​ @angeltothecore​ @ghostkat23​ @deathkat657​ @awixxx @httpmedxsa​ @veronawrites​ @bubbletae7​ @serious-addiction​ @chogiyeol-utopia​ @nomimits7​ @lorielulu7​ @1am9root6​ @sana-b​ @diamonddia-mond​ @jiminiessipabo​ @myhearttteu​ @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda​ @rosiethefairy​ @lovinggalaxies​ @midnight1199​ @trinityautumn​ @linniewritesficz​ @fearhoshi​ @ess-place @juniesoftbot​ @kingalls00​ @toribug2020​ @daydreambrliever​  @moonlight-mochi @sleepyje0n​ @yoonie-bby​ @alltimeyoongi @honestlyfuriousharmony​

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

The bright fluorescence lights adorning the outside of the shop are starting to hurt your eyes. You’ve gotten a few weird stares, but you’re finding it hard to make your feet move an inch closer. You can’t seem to make up your mind if you’re doing the right thing or not. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he gets angry with you for treating him like you own him?

You glance sideways just in time to meet the security guard’s eyes; the uncertain expression on his face making you realize you’ve been standing in the same place like a crazy person long enough for him to do a third lap. The awkwardness prompts you enough to enter the store, although you immediately feel a little lost. You never expected you would end up in a hybrid store, at least not after you thought you had adopted a regular cat.

“Hi, welcome to Hybrids-r-us! Can I help you with anything?” A girl, probably younger than yourself, approaches you with a smile. She’s wearing a black shirt with the store’s logo on, and the nametag fastened on her chest says Soo-young.

“I’m a little lost,” You admit, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets as you give her a sheepish smile back.

“That’s what I’m here for! So what kind of hybrid do you own?” Soo-young asks.

“Oh, I don’t–“ You cut yourself off. You do by no means own Yoongi, but it would be weird to show up at a hybrid store if you weren’t buying things for your own hybrid.

“I mean, he’s a cat hybrid,” You say, and Soo-young’s face lights up despite your little slip.

“What kind of breed is he? I have a Persian one myself! He’s the cutest little thing ever,” She rambles excitedly as she starts leading you down the aisles of various hybrid articles.

“Siberian?” You can’t help the unsure tone of your voice, considering you actually don’t have a clue what type of breed he actually is. But you know your old neighbour’s cat was a Siberian, and since Yoongi reminded you so much of him when you first saw him, you figure his breed can’t be too far off.

“He’s a fluffy one!” Soo-young squeals, stopping in front of a section marked as ‘cat hybrids’. “I would recommend getting him some clothes from these racks, they have bigger cut-outs for fluffier tails,” You listen attentively as she lists of her recommendations, following her gestures to see what products she thinks might work and what she thinks Yoongi might enjoy. You wince inwardly as you think of the crude hole you cut into your sweatpants so that they would fit with Yoongi’s tail. You’re sure it can’t be too comfortable even if the fabric is soft.

“Call for me if you need any help!” Soo-young leaves you to pick out your stuff by yourself, you giving her a quiet thanks as you turn around to face the massive selection of clothes.

Your wallet is lighter than it should be, so you make a bee-line towards the clearance racks, making sure that you pick out clothes from the right ones. You didn’t even think that the clothes would differ based on breeds, and so you’re thankful for Soo-young’s input. You have no idea what Yoongi likes or what his style is considering he’s just been pulling clothes from your closet so far, and so you try to stick to neutral colours. Black and white are classics for a reason after all.

You probably should have asked for Yoongi’s size, but you know where your own clothes are either loose or tight on him, and so you try your best to eyeball it. After you’ve picked out a decent amount of clothes, at least enough to give Yoongi some different outfits to circle through; you follow the direction Soo-young pointed you in earlier to the skin and hair care section.

There’s an overwhelming amount of different products to choose from, but you try to go for those that promise to give silky soft fur and extra shine. You know cats love to groom themselves, so hopefully that applies to their hybrid counterparts as well.

You try not to look at the amount after Soo-young is done ringing up your things for Yoongi. You can already tell it’s too much compared to the little sum that’s supposed to last you another two weeks. But, Yoongi deserves it. You’re not sure how long he’s staying, but he deserves to have his own things and feel at home – for however long that might be.

The bags crinkle obnoxiously loud in the stairwell up to your floor, and you just pray Yoongi won’t take your gesture the wrong way. As you step in front of your door, it flies open before you can even reach for your key. A slender hand reaches out to pull you inside, and you barely manage to squeeze through the opening before Yoongi leans over your shoulder to close the door behind you.

“You’re home late,” Yoongi’s breath tickles against your ear as he locks the door, the ticklish sensation making you clutch the bags tighter in response. His chest brushes against your shoulder as he steps back, but you find the space he’s given you to breathe doesn’t do much when his eyes are locked so intensely onto yours.

“Why?” He prompts, eyebrow quirking at the lack of response.

“Oh uh, I went shopping! After work .. That’s why I’m home late,” You grimace. It had been a spur of the moment thing; otherwise you would’ve let Yoongi know beforehand. You wish you had enough money to get him a phone, but sadly, that just isn’t in your budget at all right now.

Yoongi’s eyes finally slide down to the bags in your hands, head tilting curiously as he sees the logo plastered on the sides.

“It’s for you,” You thrust the bags towards him, a flush creeping up your neck as Yoongi gives you a weird look.

“For me? Why?”

“You need your own clothes, you can’t just keep stealing mine.” Yoongi gives you a half-hearted shrug in response, but his tail does an interested flick despite the nonchalant expression on his face.

You rattle the bags in impatience, and Yoongi swipes them out of your hands with a huff.

“Go wait in the living room,” Yoongi mutters as he breezes past you to go into the bathroom. You’re not entirely sure why he wants to wait there, but you oblige easy – only stopping to remove your coat and shoes.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but Yoongi holding his own personal fashion show definitely wasn’t it. You have to bite down on your lips to hold back the smile threatening to take over your whole face as he ventures back and fourth between the bathroom and the living room, showing off new clothing every time. You can tell he’s trying his best to seem disinterested, but the little quirk of his lips and the more energized spring in his step tells you everything you need to know.

“What about these? Are they too tight?” Yoongi gives you a slow spin, showing off the black pair of jeans you picked out. You feel the smile die on your lips as your eyes follow the curve of Yoongi’s body, your throat going dry as you realize they probably fit him too well. “Maybe a little?” You squeak, desperately trying to subtly clear your throat to make your voice sound normal again. You’re not sure how you’ll survive being at home if he starts wearing those jeans frequently. Yoongi peers down at his legs, taking a few steps back and forth. He lets out a low hum.

“I like them,” He smirks; the look in his eyes perhaps a little too knowing for your liking. Yoongi walks out of the room before you can convince him otherwise, his fluffy tail swishing languidly behind him. You wait for a second to make sure he’s gone before you reach up to fan your face, desperately trying to make the heat in your cheeks go away before he returns.

Thankfully for you though, Yoongi settles on using a new pair of sweatpants you got for him instead. You’re both relaxing on the couch and finishing up your dinners, the TV providing some mindless entertainment in the background.

Yoongi silently collects your plates, the expression on his face seeming a little torn as he brings them out into the kitchen. It takes a few minutes before Yoongi returns, when he does, his ears are turned back, posture tense as he drops down on the couch besides you.

“I need to tell you something,” Yoongi grumbles out before you can ask. His tail is resting in his lap, pale fingers threading through the long fur. The cat hybrid’s jaw is clenched as he stares out into the room, and you feel the mood of the room turn like someone has flipped a switch.

“Okay ..” You murmur hesitantly. Yoongi lets out a slow sigh, like it pains his lungs to just even expel the air.

“I think I need to tell you about my past – why you found me at the shelter,” Yoongi’s dark eyes flicker over to you quickly before he moves his gaze back to the wall. You suck in a quick breath, the topic catching you completely off guard. Your stomach twists uncomfortably as you give him an encouraging nod in response.

“I’m not hiding because I did anything wrong. I just .. needed to get away. The last place I lived wasn’t – it wasn’t good,” He swallows thickly, ears pulling back until they’re flat against his head.  

“Actually, it was a hellhole. My owner –” Yoongi’s lips curl in disgust as he spits out the word, “was an abusive ass. He didn’t care about me unless he needed someone to let his anger out on,” You sink further down into the couch as Yoongi’s words knock into you one by one. It’s not like this is something you haven’t encountered before, hell, your job is dealing with cases like Yoongi’s, but it still feels like someone has plunged a knife inside your chest.

“One night he came home drunk. He passed out in the hallway, but I just knew, I knew he would wake up in a few hours and lay all of his fucking issues onto me and I was just so tired,” Yoongi’s voice breaks, his shoulders hunching as he brings his tail closer to his body. You feel sick as you notice Yoongi’s fingers dragging over clear patches of skin between his fur. You’ve seen that a lot in your case files. Punishment for misbehaving. You advert your eyes back to Yoongi’s face, feeling guilty for never having noticed it before.

“So I ran. I had tried it once before, but a stray hybrid is so easily noticed. I knew that if I got caught again and sent back that I wouldn’t ..” Yoongi trails off, voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand what he meant to say. I wouldn’t have survived.  

“It’s easier to hide as a cat, but I suppose someone saw me loitering around in the same area for too long and decided to call it in. Hybrid shelters normally don’t accept regular animals; but I guess the one you found me at did, at least until they could transfer me to a proper one. It really wasn’t that difficult to convince them I wasn’t a hybrid, you just got to pretend really hard to not understand what they’re saying or doing,” Yoongi shrugs half-heartedly, a bitter smile on his lips.

“I was there for a month before you adopted me, or well, cat me. Hybrid me is still legally owned by that fuckhead,” He hisses, hands shaking as he gathers them in his lap.

“I couldn’t tell anyone in case they sent me back. There was no one I could trust.”

Your eyes are burning with unshed tears. The more you get to know about Yoongi’s story the angrier you feel. You just can’t understand why people would treat hybrids like that – fellow humans like that. Yoongi looks so small and beaten down sitting on the opposite side of the couch of you, and you can’t believe your snarky kitty has been carrying something like this by himself for so long. You can’t help but feel like you’ve somehow failed him – that you could’ve done better.

“There was no one .. until you,” Yoongi utters softly, the mellow voice shutting down your screaming thoughts.

“Yoongi ..” You breathe, your throat so choked up it’s hard to say anything else. The cat hybrid shakes his head as he turns to look at you, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he sees your glossy eyes.

“I just thought you deserved to know why I’m here. No need to get sappy,” He huffs, reaching forward to swipe his thumb across your cheek. You’re surprised to see moisture clinging to his finger as he pulls back, and you hastily run your hands under your eyes to catch any other stray tears. You let out a weak laugh, embarrassed that you didn’t even know you were crying.

“But why the sudden honesty?” You ask. Today was the same as yesterday, and the day before. Well ..  almost the same.

“You didn’t feel like you had to tell me because I brought you clothes, right?” You feel horrified. What if Yoongi felt like he owed you something?

Yoongi takes a look at your panic stricken expression and snorts, his long fingers reaching out to grab yours. He gives your hand a squeeze, his thumb running over your knuckles.

“Don’t worry y/n. It was just as I said; I thought you deserved to know. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, or the day after that. I just wanted at least one person to be aware of my situation in case ..” He trails off, eyes growing blank as he stares out the window behind your shoulder. He looks tired, you notice. Maybe he hasn’t been sleeping as well as you thought he had. Or maybe this has been weighing on his mind for quite some time. Whatever it is, you’re determined to fix it.

“Ah well, now you know!” He seems to snap himself out of whatever thoughts that took over him, the glint you’ve grown so accustomed to returning to his eyes.

“Yeah, now I know,” You give his hand a squeeze in return, but for you, it’s more than just a confirmation. It’s a promise.

You’re not that surprised that you end up with Yoongi’s soft hair between your fingers again. He has a hand curled around your knee, head resting on top of your thighs.

“This might sound weird – but the first time I saw you I really thought I was seeing a ghost,” You mutter. Your fingers halt momentarily, the memory of when you first saw Yoongi at the shelter still so vivid in your mind. Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise at the sudden lack of contact, nudging his head back against your palm until you take the hint and resume your scratching.

“A ghost?” He questions, his voice muffled against the fabric of your sweats.

“Yeah. You reminded me so much of my neighbour’s old cat. You were like a splitting image,” You hum, a smile slipping onto your lips as you remember how cute Fluffball was.

“But of course, now I know you’re two very different cats. He was never as grumpy as you are,” You stifle down a laugh as Yoongi’s tail flickers irritably. He’s too easy to annoy.

“What happened?” He grumbles out.

“He passed away. My neighbour said he had suddenly gotten sick and there wasn’t anything that could be done to help him. I cried for like a week afterwards,” You frown, the little special place you have for Fluffball in your heart aching as you remember how upset you were.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi’s tail curls around your wrist, the long silky fur almost ticklish against your skin. You hear the hesitation in his voice before he continues,

“I often heard that I looked like my mom,” He murmurs.

“Really? What’s she like?” You run your fingers down to the back of his neck, brushing over the shorter hairs at his nape.

“I–I don’t remember. I was taken away when I was really young,” Yoongi says quietly, his tone mournful. You don’t even want to imagine how Yoongi must have felt, so young and alone and probably terrified all by himself.

“I’m sorry,” You echo his words back to him, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench your jaw tightly as you continue to stroke the his hair; the same low hitching purrs rumbling out of his chest once your conversation lulls. You’re going to make sure Yoongi’s owner will have hell to pay for all the things he has done to him, even if it’s the last thing you do.

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, the light from your computer screen almost making your eyes water. Your computer is whirring loudly in protest as it tries to process all the new data and files you’ve entered into it. It’s way past due for an update, but it isn’t like you are going to go and ask your boss for a new one now. Not when the whole company is still in shambles trying to figure out the breach.

The office is almost completely empty, and it only makes your struggling computer sound even more pitiful. You stare mindlessly at the glowing circle that has replaced your cursor, knowing you can’t do anything else until it has worked through everything you asked it to.

“Staying late?” A deep voice startles you out of your thoughts, making you jump as you swivel around on your chair. You’re greeting by the kind face of Mr. Yang, an older man that has worked here even longer than you have. You honestly consider him as some sort of distant uncle.

“You bet,” You wince. “Got a load of new cases today, and this old thing doesn’t seem to want to cooperate,” You jab your thumb over your shoulder to direct his attention to the screen behind you.

He gives you a knowing sigh, dusting off his hat before he places it on his head.

“Well don’t stay too late now, you hear me? This whole hacking business is making me anxious,” He gives your shoulder a friendly pat, his face tight with worry as he notices the pretty much deserted office aside from you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here as soon as this finishes logging the new data,” You give him a tired smile, and Mr. Yang takes that as his clue to leave. He tips his hat with a smile of his own as he passes, and you settle back down in your chair, pretty sure you’re in for the long haul. Thankfully you remembered to tell Yoongi that you would probably be coming home late –new case files almost always resulted in you working overtime to catch up.

It doesn’t even take five minutes before your computer screen goes black, the whirring fan stuttering loudly before it promptly shuts off. You curse under your breath, annoyed that it had to act up now, with the office close to empty and the IT department most likely abandoned long ago. You try pressing the power button repeatedly, but to no avail. You’re going to need help if you want it to work again.

You push out of your chair with a huff, opting to leave your stuff behind as you hurry towards the staircase. The likelihood of the IT department being empty is high, but you at least have to check to make sure.

Your footsteps echo loudly as you descend down the two flights of stairs. You always dislike staying at work late, the normally bustling building feeling so eerie when it’s quiet and empty. You shake of the tight feeling in the back of your neck, rolling your shoulders purposefully as you push the door to the IT department open.

There’s no need to feel nervous, there isn’t like anything is suddenly going to pop out of the dark and grab you. Maybe you should stop watching those scary movies that has been marathoning on TV for the past week.

The floor is dark, as you expected. You’re about to turn around when you notice a light further down in the room, the blue hue of it unmistakable. It seems like one worker is staying late after all. You trudge down the middle of the room, passing by the empty desks one by one until you get closer to the source of the light. It’s a computer that’s still on, the screen lighting up the desk in a soft glow. But as you come closer, you realize that this desk seems empty too.

“Maybe they forgot to turn it off,” You mutter, the silence in the large room swallowing up your words. Your eyes travel over the empty desk, a flash of pink rooting you in your spot. You lean in closer, your eyes widening in alarm as you recognize the cat-formed sticky notes.

You don’t understand how they ended up here. No one from the IT department has been near your area lately, and you can’t imagine anyone from your floor bringing it down here either. Moving your gaze ever so slightly makes you suck in a harsh breath. Lying next to your sticky note pad is the unmistakable shape of your favourite pen, the end of it showing off the indents of your teeth from all your nervous biting.

You grip the edge of the desk tightly as you realize that your thing going missing aren’t a coincidence, nor is it just your co-workers simply displacing them. You suddenly realize that you do not want to meet the owner of this desk, your work be damned. This isn’t something you want to deal with now, and especially not alone.

You quickly turn around, legs ready to bolt out of there, but you freeze in your tracks as you see the large shadow blocking your path. You take a hesitant step backwards as the shadow moves closer, your legs knocking into the sides of the desk.

The movement is enough to finally bring the figure into the light from the computer screen, and you feel your heart stop as you recognize the lanky stature and big eyes staring right back at you. It’s the same guy you saw that day in the lunchroom with Jihyo, and the same guy that was loitering outside of your boss’ office.

You can see the surprise flit across his face as he realizes that it’s you, but the blank expression his face quickly settles into makes your stomach lurch uneasily.

It’s only then that it dawns on you what kind of situation you’re really in. You’re here all alone, pressed up against a desk in the dark with no possible escape – at least not unless it’s through the man in front of you.

You’re trapped.

You’re screwed.

- - - -

Hello! Hope you enjoyed the eight chapter of desolate, now we’re just over halfway there! Some backstory was on the menu today .. And uh oh, what's going to happen to y/n now? 👀

Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

[greenygreenland]

The Floor Is Lava: (Platonic) 501st x Jedi Reader

-saw something about the floor is lava and imagined this in my head at like 3am

-note, you are a jedi padawan of shaak ti’s with your own squad (who are actually my ocs lol). They are called the Nebula Squad (the squad is actually from Wannabe, another one of my Star Wars fanfics)

-basically, you are someone who acts alone (without your master) and goes on special ops missions. you team up with anakin a lot

-CAN BE READ WITHOUT HAVING TO READ WANNABE

Summary: The floor is lava.

Spring came early. Too early. Maybe it was the fact that this planet had short winters, or the fact that you just weren't used to the warm breezes and scorching heat. After being stationed on Hoth for a good two weeks, you adjusted to the climate. With that came the curse of low heat tolerance.

"I'm going to die." you grumbled.

Your mission was in the more civilised (that was how one of your boys put it) regions of the planet. For some strange reason only the Force knew, your ship broke down in the worst place: a deserted village. Why was this the worst place? Because there was no way you could repair a broken ship without spare parts.

And where were spare parts located? In the city you were supposed to land in. Great, just great.

“(Y/n), can’t we contact General Skywalker for assistance?” inquired Nova. “We are supposed to RV with them anyway.”

Nova was your friend and assigned clone Commander. He, like you, had a knack for getting into sticky situations. Usually he was the one with the plan B, not you. “I can ask Grav and Nimbus if they can get a signal out over there.” He pointed to the mountain on your right. It was tall with a jagged top, where thick forests of luscious greenery sprouted out all over.

Yeah, good luck getting through that.

“You mean to tell me there’s no signal here?” you inquired. “Just how remote is this place?” Even with that bucket over Nova’s face, you knew he was frowning and holding back a long sigh. “Intel said--”

“Intel’s always wrong.” cut in a voice. You peered over Nova’s broad shoulders and met gazes with another member of your squad, Icee. He was just as tall as Nova, sporting the Squad’s signature purple stripes and it’s logo--a nebula. Over his shoulder, he held tight to a sniper rifle. The thing was a beauty, as well as his baby.

“The three things you can never trust are the weather forecast, the canteen menu, and intel. Plain and simple, vode.” Icee added. You shook your head, swatting a few mosquitoes away with a wave of your hand. “If that big ‘ol mountain is the only place we can get a signal from, then I say we go. All of us.”

Nova nodded in agreement. He shouldered his pack, adjusted a few straps on his kama and weapons, and motioned for the rest of the squad to move out. “Is there anything we should know about the wildlife here?” he inquired. “My HUD’s picking up the usual birds and rascals. I’d rather not risk it though. Remember Felucia?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of that jungle-hell. Everywhere you walked lay a deadly plant in need of its next meal. They snuck up on you too, striking out of nowhere like the silence of night. Your number one rule there was not to touch anything.

“There are a few carnivorous plants south of here,” answered Nimbus. “Besides that, all we have to worry about are the birds.” You admired the way he was able to brief everyone so quickly. The only other clone you’ve met with such a well of info was Tech, a member of Clone Force 99.

“What do the birds look like?” you inquired. Nimbus scrunched up his face under that bucket of his. “I don’t think you wanna know.” Grav squinted at the screen and pushed his brother’s head with the back of his hand. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but you sensed a lingering annoyance in the air after. 

“What, you scared of some little bird Nimbus?“ he teased. Nimbus wordlessly flipped over his datapad for everyone to see. The screen displayed a large bird-like creature with long fangs covered in drool. Its eyes were beady and bloodthirsty, as if it wanted you to be its next meal.

Nimbus scanned over the heading. “This is a...uh...Kah-rah...Kahl-ram-dah-lahm-dahl...?”

“Kara’dalamb’da.” corrected Storm. He pulled off his helmet, the low ponytail of his fanning out in the warm breezes. “I’ve read about them once. They’re not the type of creatures I’d want to run into. They drag you to their caves, pull you apart limb, and then chew you alive. The worst part is that they don’t eat you.”

Nimbus knitted his brows together. “So we’re like chewing gum to them?”

“Exactly.” Storm affirmed. “They come out at night time, then stay around till dawn before hiding in their caves.” Icee blanched and you couldn’t blame him. You were all heading towards the mountains, where plenty of caves and labyrinths lay. There were probably tons of those Kara-whatevers waiting for their dinner.

You folded your hands together with a tight frown. “Is there another way of getting a signal to Anakin?” George shook his head sadly. You sensed an overwhelming amount of resignation rolling off his shoulders. “No. Even if I tried use long-range comms, it wouldn’t work. There’s too much interfering with the signal.”

There was a chance you could telepathically contact Anakin. He’d answer in an instant and personally come to find you. But that would drain your energy. Your boys needed you more than you needed to contact Ani. If you became dead-weight then it would compromise the mission.

“Alright,” you decided. “We have twelve hours to scale that mountain and hurry our shebs to the ship. If we don’t make it back in time, consider ourselves toast.”

You wished you’d consider yourself toast from the start. If that were the case, then you wouldn’t be running for your life. The mission up was a success. You managed to reach the highest point on the mountain in less than eight hours by ways of a local trail (Nimbus noted that this was a popular tourist spot in autumn). Then you contacted Rex, who promised to RV at the foot of the mountain.

The way down was a different story.

It was dusk when you made your descend. The moon rose into the sky while the sun shied away, and if it weren’t for the boys and their helmet lamps, you wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. At first, the walk back was completely fine. The boys were in good spirits and you weren’t hungry for (favourite food).

But then it didn’t go well.

It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see the giant jaws of death looming over you, or Nimbus, who started arguing with Grav. Again. It also wasn’t you fault that George so happened to trip over a rock and slam into Sapnap, who tried breaking his fall by grabbing onto Halo’s arm. The three went down together, and with the heavy clanking of katarn-class armour, you were sure the whole animal kingdom heard the show.

And that was how the Nebula Squad found themselves in this mess, fleeing from the horrifying Kara’dalamb’da.

“This is your fault Grav!” cried Nimbus. They bumped heads and it took all your willpower not to join the screaming match. “Shut up,” replied Grav. “You were the one who started it!” Nimbus gritted his teeth. “You who else started this?” he seethed. “Them!” He pointed over his shoulder at Halo, George, and Sapnap. They were the ones who had fallen, after all. Why else did the beast wake up?

“It wasn’t my fault!” cried George. Sapnap scoffed and it was lost to the screech of the oversized bird above. “No one said it was your fault anyway! You just have a guilty conscious!”

You eyed the bird with a sharp scowl. It flew higher, into the haunting light of the moon and across the stars. It gave a great screech again. You covered your ears as a shiver ran down your spine. “Is there any place we can hide from that thing? I’m pretty sure it can smell us from klicks away!”

“That’s correct Commander!” Nimbus congratulated. By the light aura around his shoulders, you guessed him and Grav already made up. They always had petty arguments anyway. “The Kara’dalamb’da has an incredible sense of smell and a wingspan of about ten meters! That’s pretty cool.”

Storm stared at his brother in bewilderment. “How is that cool?” he demanded. “You want to be chop suey for that thing? Be my guest.” Halo laughed a little. You knew he was doing it to shake off his nerves. “Why’d you have to go on and say that? Now I’m going to start singing.”

You scanned the forest. For miles, it seemed to be only forest, wildlife, and bare nature. A flicker of...something cut through your senses. Calculating, at the ready, and deadly. You paused in your step, Storm mimicking you. He met your gaze. “You sense it too?”

“Maybe it’s them.”

You heard them before you saw them.

“Blast that bird out of the sky!”

A squad of 501st troops rustled through the trees. They were silent as the night, save for one trooper who decided to whisper-shout a ‘hi’ to your squad. Their formation, lame as it was, worked in their favour. They raised their blaster, lighting up the sky with bright bolts of blue.

“Can we get a rocket launcher over here?”

“Yes, sir!”

The bird dropped out of the sky with a cry, razor-sharp teeth bared and claws at the ready. It was coming closer, diving faster. You pulled out your lightsaber and thumbed it on.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

You heaved in a deep breath and leapt into the moonlight. Your robes fluttered in the wind, and your hair whipped in arc of (hair colour). It was like you had wings. Time slowed and you raised your lightsaber. It came down in a neat slash across the beast’s neck.

You tumbled through the air and met the ground in a roll. The beast fell behind with a loud THUMP!. You turned off your glowing blade and stashed it away on your belt. The adrenaline keeping your nerves hidden away was slowing, and the realisation that you just murdered a beast settled into your mind.

Part of you wished things could have been different. But what choice did you have?

“Commander!” called Nova, stopping by your side. “Are you okay?” You smiled and he heaved out a sigh of relief. “That was some jump, but now look.” He pointed to your dirt-covered robes. It wasn’t a big deal, but to someone like Nova, it was an issue.

“Here.” Nova helped you dust off the robe with a few pats. “That’s better.”

“Oh, it didn’t look bad.” you stated. He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s what you always say (Y/n).” You grinned and bumped shoulders with him. He replied by playfully shaking his head with a sigh.

A familiar boy made his way towards you. Even through the moonlight struggling through the thick canopies, you saw the chipped blue paint. “Rex,” you greeted. “Thanks for the assistance. Although, I wish you toned it down a bit. You made my squad look like a bunch of young fools.” A loud ‘hey’ sounded from your boys, but you elected to ignore it with a grin.

“Your squad did a phenomenal job in staying alive that long.” Rex said with a chuckle. “And besides, you stole the show in the end. The boys had fun watching your display.” You three shared a warm laugh that reminded you of the sun.

Speaking of sun, was it just you or did it get brighter outside? You looked up to gaze at the moon. It still stood high in the sky, just as before. The stars were out too, bright and clear as ever. So why had the temperature risen so quickly? It was at least another eight hours till dawn. That was more than enough time for the moon to stay out.

A scattered cluster of birds flew from out of the trees. Was it just you or was the forest getting really silent? Owls refused to hoot, those kara-whatevers weren’t screeching from their caves, and crickets stopped chirping their calming songs.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!”

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS HERE!”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS IN THE SOUTH!”

You spun around so fast that you could have gotten whiplash. Sapnap, George, and Halo sprinted from out of the thick trees with their helmet lights on the highest setting. You squinted behind them. Something had to be chasing them, otherwise they wouldn’t be sprinting like track stars.

But you didn’t see any deadly animals, nor did you sense them. All that was left was an...

...an eerie silence.

You thought back to the briefing. Back to the meeting you nearly fell asleep in. If it weren’t for Icee kicking your feet every now and then, then you would have passed out completely.

“On this outer rim planet, I suggest you be careful,” Obi-wan had said. “The locals reported the activity of volcanoes erupting unexpectedly. They believe it has to do with an angry spirit plaguing their land, but we’ve found out the Separatists have a hand behind this.”

“Do you know where these volcanoes are, General Kenobi?” inquired Grav. He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure you won’t have to know. The city under siege is our main objective. You will rendezvous with Anakin there.”

Sapnap, George, and Halo motioned for everyone to move. There was a flicker of movement behind them. Fives emerged from the bushes in a frantic sort of panic. “LAVA!” he cried. “THE FLOOR IS LITERALLY LAVA!”

That was all it took for everyone to run. As uncoordinated as the retreat was, having lava behind you wasn’t exactly something anyone could stay calm about. The glowing magma was faster than it was supposed to be, and you had a feeling it was because it had a nice flow coming out of the planet’s core.

“Talk about an intense game of ‘the floor is lava’!” Hardcase shouted with a laugh. Jesse ‘pffted’. “I thought being chased by lava would be worse! This isn’t nearly as bad as last mission!”

Last mission? Oh, what was Ani doing to these poor souls? Your shoulders slumped in defeat. They were so nonchalant. How? Burning to death in lava was said to be the most painful death, and you’d rather not be Gollum in his last moments on Mount Doom.

“Why don’t you turn that frown upside down?” inquired Fives. You hadn’t even realised he’d caught up with you. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just a bit of lava!”

You threw a hand over your shoulder and pointed to the glowing, hot mass. It burned through everything it touched. A fire was beginning to catch too, and all the smoke and ash from it wasn’t doing you any good. “Just a bit of lava? Well how would you feel running into that?”

“I don’t know!” he retorted. “Never tried it!”

“If you did, then you’d be dead!” Kix shouted. You face-palmed. “That’s a bit of a no-brainer!” Fives pulled off his helmet. The grin smacked upon his lips didn’t leave. “Who’s up for a round of ‘the floor is lava’?”

“Me!” said Jesse.

“And me!” added Hardcase.

“You guys need to cool it.” Kix said. “But don’t leave me out, I want to play too.”

You let out a long sigh. The 501st may have saved your skin today, but tomorrow? They’d probably get you killed.

TIP JAR <--- (if you’re feeling nice)

[mega-bastard]

i was kidnapped by shiratorizawa ?!?!?!?!

this was painful to write, but like a masochist I did it anyway. this is my part of the the first Whorehouse Collab, located here. Finally getting back into writing fanfics since like 2015, this was oddly therapeutic.

I wrote this under the influence of magic grass after binging several wattpad fics, enjoy at your own risk-- by which I mean laugh alongside me LMAO

The ending is sososo rushed, in true wattpad fashion <3 this was 1.3K words of nonsense

When I woke up today, I didn’t think I’d end up in such a bind— bindings to be more specific. I’m just your average little miss no one, another everyday student easily lost in the in the crowd. Wearing glasses and being like super shy does that to u, yknow?

Now, blindfolded and tied up, I can’t help but wonder just how someone so unnoticeable had gotten snatched up so suddenly— perhaps that was had why you were taken (insert Liam neeson voice: I will find you, and I will kill you hehe >:3). Now, with the full throb in my head beginning to subside— I started to recount what had bringed me into such s predicament

~ rewind to earlier in the day ~

I’d only just waked up when I received a text from my best friend mina (bnha wink wonk) gushing about or schools volleyball match— to say she was crazy in love aoba Joshuas volleyball team would be selling it crazily underwhelmed. Especially their captain, oikawa tooru ! Most of our school did, but I was really observant of the people around me— he gives me weird vibes, like he puts on an act or something. But still, I keep that thoght to myself so no one comes for me. Seriously, he’s got fans like a Kpop star (a/n haha stan bts for clear skin uwu)

Either way, her dragging me to a volleyball game is nothing new— and as she’s blowing my messages up like the world is ending I know  what to expect this coming afternoon. What a pain, I had planned on watching naruto when I got home today :(

There was no telling Mina no, so when we enviably met to walk to school I was well aware I’d be attending the volleyball match today. Boring, but I’d manage— I don’t care much for sports but sweaty and muscley men are finer than fine, I’d at least have spank bank material hehe (a/n not to whore on main buuuuuut ;3).

The day flew by and suddenly I found my self seated on the stands, waiting for the game to begin. Mina was chatting away, so when the urge to go to the bathroom came I simply got up and left— I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise, everyone always runs at the mouth and I can never get a word in as a result.

Not paying attention on my way to the bathroom, I suddenly shivered— feeling watched. I looked up from staring at the floor and was brought face to face with...the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team ?!?! At the head was the tank of a captain, japans number one ace Ushijima Wakayoshi (a/n a whole snack yumyum) was indomitable and a scary man to be faced with. Ushijima was still as fierce as ever; I say that because we’d gone to middle school together— we never spoke or anything like that but we’d been in the same classes. He scrutinized my small form with impassive olive eyes, I felt rooted in place at such a state.

I shook myself from my little reverie and quickly scurried off, heart beating a mile a minute. “ just find the bathroom and head back to Mina “ I murmured to myself, finally finding the bathroom after rounding a corner. The feeling of being watched finally lifting.

After using the bathroom and began to head back, I could hear someone...singing something? I began to head towards it out of curiosity, peeking around a corner to see a tall red haired guy and a grey haired guy— they were wearing the same uniform so they must also be a part of the team as well! Lost in my thoughts, I was only briefly able to dick away before the red haired guy turned around to where I was peeking.

Ok seriously, let’s head back ‘ I thought before scurrying back to Mina— who grilled me on my absence before becoming entranced in the starting game. I stayed on my phone for the most part, reading one direction fanfic— with the phone screen down waaay low (a/n who else has done this before ???). Id peek every now and again to watch, at one point catching the eye of the tall red head— a chill ran down my spin at his impish smile that I looked away immediately.

He was...cute. In a scary way.

A sudden hush flew across the crowd and I looked up in time to see oikawas serve hit clean across the net, received by some guy with brown hair before being set by some twat with shitty hair (a/n shirabus a twat, their I said it >:/) before the ball was spiked back with a force unmatched.

That was Match point. Shiratorizawa wins.

The air is oppressive, oikawas fan girls— mina included, are wailing. That’s my cue to exit, bidding a mina goodbye I began my way down the hail, the rush of the court fading into background.

Then suddenly, rushing feet and the crack of something hard against my skull.

Darkness consumed me.

~ back to the present ~

Now back to the hear and now, I hear murmerings-- voices I don’t recognize. I try to listen, try to focus in on their voices but I can’t as the throbbing in my skull takes my focus away. A whimper escapes me, and a silence sweeps across wherever I am like a breeze-- it’s scary.

“haha, is she awake?” it’s the sing=songy voice from before-- the red head probably then? I know I needed to say something, anything, but I was still to disoriented. The sound of shoes nearing me immeadiatly set me off, beginning to wiggle and move before I was held still vision suddenly assaulted with brightness as my blindfold is redmoved.

Standing before, me in all their glory, is the Shiratorizawa volleyball team??

It looks like I’m being held in...an empty dorm room? I’m trying to gather my bearings and cannot figure what to possibly ay before being yanked up harshly from a laying position. It’s the red head holding me up, wicked smile and everything as he crouches in front of me before opening his mouth.

“ You belong to us now, got it~” his voice is too cheery given the words he’s just said to me (a/n tendou owns my heart and soul <3333 ), and only now does my voice find me. “ B-but w-why m-m-me ? You c-can’t j-just do t-that, please just let me g-g-g-g-g-g-go !” by the time I finish blubbering, theres tears streaming down my cheeks like rushing rivers. Through my lashes, I look pitifully around at everyone-- landing on an umcomfortble looking kid with a bowl cut, but he looks away as soon as i stare up at him.

no, no ,no nononono no ones going to help me. the tears fall puddle on the floor, only growing in speed when ushijima speaks. “ You’ll be transfering here, become our manager, and be staying in this dorm room-- it’s already been settled” (a/n idk I’d be p happy to be shiratorizawa’s manager uwu) his voice is deep and leaves no room for any back talk, but my stomach drops at his next sentence “Semi, put it on her’ my head whips up, starring doe eyed at the grey haired guy from before as he approaches with...IS THAT A COLLAR AND LEASH??? (a/n insert debby ryan face)

my face heats up, embarrassed and ashamed at the idea of being collared like an animal. I try to wiggle away, annoying Semi, “Tendou hold her still damnit!” at that Tendou-- the red head, grips my face with one hand to keep me still, gripping it hard enough that hes smushing my cheeks (a/n tendou, t e n d o u, loml, how I cherish thee) . He mutters a quiet cute, so faint I think I’m hearing things, before the tightening of the collar breaks me from that train of thought. With that done, I’m released, falling to my hands and knees staring up at the entire team now gathered before me.

A tug on the leash tugs me forward without much effort, and the tears spring up once more at the humiliation. 

“This is gonna be fun~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ok so I hoped you guys loved it <3 I’ll try my best to get out weekly updates, next chap I’m thinking I either focus on how ushijima and reader-chan actually do know eachother, shirabu and semi fiighting of reader-chans attention, or maybe tendou and reader-chan getting into trouble while draggin goshiki into it! SOund off in the comments and let me know what you think ?? anyway love you guys sm <33333

[theladyofdeath]

The Ranch {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: Shelby and I have been writing this for MONTHS and we are so excited to start sharing it with you all! As always, let us know what you think, and enjoy. :) We will be going back & forth posting chapters, so look for chapter 2 on her blog! 

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta knew absolutely nothing about ranching.

Even worse, she felt absolutely nothing as she got out of her little red car and stepped onto the dirt path that led to the house.

She had grown up on this ranch, had run around and had adventures with her sisters in these pastures. Yet, as she took in everything she had inherited, she felt nothing.

She hadn’t been to the ranch in years, not since her mother died when she was eighteen. Now, almost a decade later, it was all foreign. It used to look so lively and magical during her childhood, but now it was nothing more than an old, big house built upon a huge chunk of land full of cattle.

Nesta hated cows. They smelled horrible.

She started walking up the path to her childhood home, when she saw the faded, peeling sign in the yard.

Belles & Blossoms Bed and Breakfast

The restraint Nesta used not to roll her eyes was only thanks to the fact that she was well-rested from her stay in Velaris’ newest hotel, the Manor House. The five-star hotel was supposed to be a hotel and spa, but it was more of a resort than anything. After her flight had landed, she had treated herself to a nice dinner and a massage and facial. The stress of knowing she had to come here had been wreaking havoc on her nerves and the special treatment was exactly what she needed.

But now that she was here, now that she was standing in front of the place she’d fought so hard to get out of, she wanted to turn around and check back into her room. Instead, she walked up the stairs, swiped the key from the underside of the rocking chair - where it had always been -  and let herself into the house.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. There was a definite breeze coming from the vents, but the air was by no means cool. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping this was not going to be an indication of how this all would go.

It looked exactly like she remembered, not a single thing having changed. The leather furniture was still prominently featured in every room, the rodeo memorabilia hanging on every wall. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen and to the sink, gazing out the window. She could see the house her father had built on the property a few years back. It had stayed mostly empty, as her father had opted to still live in the old farmhouse.

She would not though, she would move into the modern house on the back of the property, close enough to still be there for her guests, but far enough that she could have privacy if it was ever needed.

Nesta didn’t anticipate it would though.

Her own sisters didn’t even know she was back in town. It had been years since she’d spoken to Feyre and Elain and her texted occasionally, but Nesta knew nothing of their personal lives and they knew none of hers.

Nesta hadn’t even come to her own father’s funeral.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t.

Quickly, she made her way through the rest of the house, cataloging what she saw in her head and already thinking about what changes she would make. When she got to her old bedroom, she paused, lingering in the doorway as she took in how it was the only room in the house that didn’t match the style of the rest.

No, Nesta had never cared for the rodeo lifestyle her father grew up in. Her sisters tolerated it, but just like her mother, Nesta couldn’t stand it.

The walls were still the deep grey she’d painted them, covering up the awful wallpaper featuring ropes and steers. The furniture was elegant and simply stated, dark wood with sleek lines. 

There were no blinds on the windows, leaving the view down to the river uninhibited.

Nesta smiled, feeling a bit of pride as she took in how good her room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She also let out a breath of relief as she realized it was one less room she’d have to redecorate.

She would do the rest later. Being back was beginning to take its toll. Nesta hurried back out the front door and hopped in her car, driving it further down the old dirt road. Nesta used to love the scenery. There were trees scattered across the landscape, trees that Nesta used to sit underneath in the spring and summer and read her books. Her father used to ask her to help out around the ranch, but Nesta was never interested in ranching. Her sisters helped him, always, and that seemed to be good enough for him.

Nesta pulled up to the little house her father had built and turned off her car. For a moment, she just sat in the quiet, staring at the little house. 

It was cute, even on the outside. There was a little porch with one old rocking chair. The door had been painted red, and Nesta smiled, remembering it was her mother’s favorite color. 

Once she got out, she opened the trunk and pulled out her bags. Much like the main house, the key was underneath the rocking chair. She let herself in and froze.

It was practically empty.

Her father really hadn’t spent much time in there. But why would he? He loved the main house, loved interacting with the guests that would stay there once he turned it into a bed and breakfast.

Besides, it was the home they had lived in as a family. As much as Nesta wanted to get away from the ranch, her father had always taken pride in his family.

Nesta included.

Which was why he left the ranch for his firstborn, she assumed. 

Nesta walked through the empty living room and into the back bedroom, where a simple, bare, full-sized bed sat opposite of a wooden dresser. Other than that, a mirror hung on the wall as the single piece of decor. 

Nesta tossed her bags on the mattress before finding her way into the bathroom. There was a shower with no curtain, a sink with no soap, and a toilet with no toilet paper. 

At least the place was decently clean.

After rummaging through her bag and changing into jean shorts and a t-shirt, Nesta found herself in the kitchen, finding it - shockingly - empty before making a serious mental note to go to the store before the day was over. Sheets, soap, shower curtain, shampoo, food…

She needed it all. 

Before she could feel even more overwhelmed, she found herself on the front porch and breathed in the fresh air. It was then that she noticed the little log cabin sitting on the other side of the dirt road.

There had been a ranch hand, hired by her father, when Nesta was little that used to live in that cabin. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered his smile. He was a kind, older man who had passed away before Nesta turned ten. 

Promising she’d revamp the little log cabin after taking on the main house, she slipped on her tennis shoes and walked back up the dirt road. 

She could hear the cows in the distant field and supposed she would have to hire a new ranch hand if she were to keep the ranch going. She sure as hell didn’t know what to do.

Jogging up the stairs, Nesta let herself back in and paused in the entryway, trying to decide what her plan of attack should be. She could clean first, but then when she decided what should stay or go, she’ll just discover more dirt and dust. Or she could start a throwaway pile, but that would definitely stir up the dust.

Nesta groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she’d first gotten the phone call from her father’s lawyer, letting her know that he’d left the B&B to her, she didn’t even want it. She started looking into what she needed to do and how much she could sell it for, house, land, and business. It had been a decade since she left and she hadn’t looked back once. Why would she now?

She’d found early success in the culinary arts. She studied in Miami, New York, Paris, Rome. She traveled the world. Her father couldn’t really expect her to give all that up, to give up her life, to come back to the town she grew up in, and run the bed and breakfast he started after she got out.

But he did. He trusted her with his dream and with his ranch.

And so she found herself back in Velaris, in the middle of summer, in a house with limited air conditioning, scrubbing the antique baseboards on her hands and knees. After she’d completed the living room, the molding a wholly different color than when she started, she stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She fanned herself and looked at her watch.

Only 10:45 in the morning and it was already pushing 85° outside. Nesta quickly realized she’d need to get someone out to work on the air conditioning unit as quickly as possible, and went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge.

As she walked through the house, she quickly opened up her browser and looked up a number for a local company that could hopefully get to her quickly. She found one that could work on HVAC and plumbing, and decided to have a once overdone on the entire house. She selected the number and hit send, putting the phone to her ear and opening the fridge.

Nesta hung up the phone, slammed the fridge shut and gagged all in the same second.

Apparently, in the past four weeks, the fridge had gone out. Everything inside had gone bad and though she was used to working in a kitchen, she had never smelled anything so foul in her life.

Nesta has already planned on replacing the fridge, and every other appliance, in the outdated kitchen, so she wasn’t too upset. Just frustrated that would have to be handled so soon. She put the phone down on the counter and tied her hair back in a ponytail.

Air conditioner would have to wait. This fridge had to go.

She sized the thing up, eyeing it from top to bottom. Maybe there was a dolly out in the shed she could use to push it out the back door. It was smaller than an average refrigerator, after all. What could go wrong?

She reached back behind it to make sure everything was unplugged. Then, she slowly took everything out one by one, tossing it a giant black garbage bag she had found in the cabinet.

Nesta was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t hear the back door open and shut.

“There’s a six pack in there. Hopefully you didn’t throw that out, too.”

Nesta jumped, nearly hitting her head on the open freezer door. “Fuck!” She turned around, and froze. “Who the hell are you?”

He stood there, hair loose around his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his bare, inked chest. He had on filthy boots, covered in the gods knew what, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m wondering the same thing.” The man leaned his hip against the counter that ended at the back door. “Can I help you with something?”

Nesta just blinked, staring at the man, trying to decide if her day could get any more strange. “You can help by getting the hell out before I call the police.” She grabbed her phone, hoping that he knew she was serious. “Have you ever heard of knocking? Trespassing? Or do you always just let yourself into random womens’ back doors?”

The man didn’t try to hide his gaze as he let it drag down her body and settled it on her ass. “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and focused his attention back on her face. “Usually, I like to have dinner with a woman before I ask her to let me in her back door, but I guess if you want to be so direct about it.”

Nesta’s mouth dropped open and she unlocked her phone, giving it her attention. “I’m calling the police.”

“Good,” the man said, pulling a kitchen chair out from the table and sitting down. “I can’t wait for them to get here and arrest your ass.”

Her finger froze where it hovered over the green button. “Me? Arrest me?” She started to laugh.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you think is so funny, but I’ve been here every single day for the last eight years, I’ve never seen you in this house once.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Now, I’ll ask one more time. Can I help you with something?”

Every single day for the last eight years.

“My name is Nesta,” she said, standing a little straighter. “I’m Isaac Archeron’s daughter.”

The man only stared at her, blinking every couple of seconds. “I’m sorry, you said that you were Nesta?”

She nodded.

“You’re kidding me,” he chuckled, standing up. “He left it to you? Really?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because I’ve met Isaac’s daughters. You know, the ones that have been in his life in the last decade.” He walked toward her and reached past her shoulder to one of the beers that sat in the door of the fridge. He popped it open and took a long, slow drink before saying, “You weren’t one of them.” 

He didn’t move from where he stood less than a foot in front of her. He was massive, but Nesta didn’t cower from his size, although it took everything in her to look up and meet his humored gaze instead of staring straight ahead at his chest. 

“Now that you know who I am, I suggest you tell me who you are,” was all she said, not giving him the satisfaction of a response to his jab.

He grinned, taking another drink before introducing himself. “Cassian. I’ve worked for your dad for-.”

“Eight years, yeah, I got that,” Nesta interrupted. “You take care of the herd?”

He nodded. “And nearly everything else. Used to work alongside Isaac, but did everything pretty much myself once he took a turn for the worse.”

Took a turn for the worse.

Nesta tried to pretend like the words hadn’t punched her in the gut. 

“I see. And do you live here?” Nesta asked, gesturing to the house around them. “If so, you’ve done a shitty job keeping the place up.”

“No,” he said, finally turning his back to her to resume his spot in his chair. “I live in the old log cabin. This house has been neglected for the most part since your dad took-“

“A turn for the worse?” Nesta finished for him. “Yeah, got it.”

“Do you like to finish people’s sentences?” He asked, brow raised. “I’m sensing a theme.”

Nesta ignored him, closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m not sure what my father was paying you but-.”

“He wasn’t,” Cassian interrupted, taking a page from her own book and cutting her off. He finished what was left of the warm beer and threw it across the kitchen into the trash can. It went in with precise accuracy. “What I mean is, he hasn’t been. We came to an agreement at the end of my third summer here, when money was getting tighter. He knew he couldn’t run this place without a ranch hand, but he couldn’t afford to pay me. So he gave me the cabin, signed it over to me. Deed is in my name,” he said, seeing the look on Nesta’s face. “All of my utilities are covered by the B&B. I don’t pay a dime for that house. In return, I do whatever needs to be done on these twenty acres.”

Nesta stared at him, trying to decide if the man - Cassian, he’d said - was trying to deceive her or if he was being genuine. She may not know him, but when it came down to it, she knew her father, and she knew that letting him live for free on their family land is exactly something he would do. “How do you make money then? How do you afford to eat and buy clothes and other necessities?”

“I have other ways to make money, don’t worry about that,” he said, standing and brushing dried mud off of his jeans. He didn’t give her much more time to ask questions as he stood and headed for the door. “I’ll come by and fix the AC later on this afternoon. I have to go into town for feed so I’ll pick up the part I need then.” He was out the back door and his heavy boots were clomping down the wooden stairs.

Nesta ran after him, flinging the door open. “You knew the air conditioning was out? Why haven’t you fixed it already?”

Cassian turned around and looked at her. “I just told you that I don’t technically get paid for the work that I do. My boss, your father, was the one who paid the bills here. It’s been over four weeks since the electric bill was paid and I was trying to keep this place up and running as long as I could with what little money I had saved.” As he passed through the gate that led out to the pasture and the horse stalls, he grabbed a sweat-soaked t-shirt that was draped over the fence and tossed it over his shoulder. He continued to walk backward as he finished explaining himself. “I knew we weren’t going to have many guests in the B&B any time soon and decided that feeding the living creatures that live here was more important than cooling the empty house.”

Nesta watched him walk away. Once he disappeared into the shed, she turned around and went back inside.

Every ounce of anger and frustration had left her. Suddenly, she was feeling empty. Cassian had spent the last eight years with her father, her sisters, working this land and making a home here.

She shook the thoughts away as she tossed the rest of his warm beer cans into her garbage bag.

_____________________________

Nesta had decided to commit the rest of her day to making the little house she now occupied feel a little more homey. She’d gone to the store to pick up a few decor items and some food, along with sheets and a shower curtain.

However, when she pulled back into the driveway, a silver truck was pulled up in front of the main house.

Elain was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she got out. She hadn’t even reached the steps before Elain was running into her arms.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” She said, holding her older sister tight. “Cassian texted me.”

“Ah, the rude cow wrangler,” Nesta muttered. “Joy.”

“He’s great,” Elain said, smile fading.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming. It…all happened so fast.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here. Gods, I missed you.”

There was a time when she and Elain had been really close. Leaving her was much harder than leaving Feyre and Isaac. But, Elain was destined to stay in Velaris forever, and Nesta didn’t want that.

Yet, she managed to end up in the damn town, anyway.

Elain got in the passenger seat of Nesta’s car and they headed down to the new house. Nesta began pulling the bags out of her back seat and Elain, helping her carry them up the porch stairs, asked what all she’d bought.

“Everything,” Nesta laughed, pausing to unlock the door, but finding it already open. “Dad didn’t have anything in here, so I figured I’d at least-.”

Nesta froze as she stepped through the threshold, the bags falling to the floor. There was something that sounded far too similar to glass  breaking for Elain’s liking, but Nesta didn’t seem to notice as she breathed, “Where did all of this come from?”

Where there had only been open space earlier, there was now furniture. A couch and entertainment center took up the living room area, and a small breakfast nook now sat in the corner by the kitchen.

“It was mine before I moved in with Azriel,” Elain said, an amused lilt to her voice. “Why do you think I’m in his truck?”

“Elain, I can’t- this is-.��� She stopped and swallowed hard, turning to look at her sister. “Thank you.”

Elain just smiled. “It was in storage. I’d rather you be using it than gathering dust in our garage.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, unsure of what to say. “So… Still with Azriel, huh? Moved in together?”

“Yeah, I think he’s going to propose soon,” Elain said, brown eyes lighting up with pure adoration. “I can’t wait.”

“That’s great,” Nesta said, and she meant it, although it didn’t sound like it. She was still in shock. Overwhelmed. She was so incredibly overwhelmed.

“I told Feyre you’re here,” Elain said, sitting on the couch in the little living room. “She said she’ll try to stop by soon.”

Nesta knew it was a lie, but she forced herself to smile. “Great.”

Her and Feyre hadn’t talked since she left. Nesta was eighteen. Feyre was only fifteen, and she refused to understand how Nesta could just take off after they’d just lost their mother.

And Nesta had never attempted to explain her reasoning to her youngest sister.

To anyone.

“So,” Elain began, once the silence became too much. “What plans do you have for this place? Dad, obviously, thought you could bring it back to life. You’ve always had an eye for such things.”

Nesta snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Dad only left this place to me because I’m the oldest. And why don’t you ask me the question you really want to ask?”

Elain attempted to look confused, but failed.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Nesta chuckled. “And don’t worry. No, I’m not selling it. I thought about it. But…” Nesta shrugged. “Dad trusted me enough, for some damn reason, to leave it to me. And we grew up here. I know you all think I’m a heartless bitch, but I’m not that heartless.”

“We don’t think you’re a heartless bitch…” Elain trailed off.

“Just a bitch?” Nesta laughed, sitting next to her and propping her feet up on the small coffee table.

“Shut up,” Elain said, bumping her with her shoulder. Nesta gently shoved her back and Elain laughed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. Nesta leaned her own head atop her sister’s. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Lainy.” Nesta smiled. Using the old childhood nickname Elain had hated felt too easy and when she heard her sister groan, she knew she’d hit her mark.

Elain stood. “I should go. I told Az I was running the stuff over here and then I’d be back home. That was almost two hours ago.”

“You did this all by yourself?” Nesta was shocked looking at the furniture around her. It was nice, a good, sturdy quality. It wasn’t cheap by any means, and thanks to that, it didn’t seem light. Nesta imagined her gentle sweet sister trying to get the couch she currently sat on through the door by herself.

Elain laughed and said, “Cauldron, no! I can barely lift the coffee table by myself. Cassian helped me.”

“Cassian?” Nesta lifted a brow.

“Yeah, the rude cow wrangler, remember?” 

Nesta scoffed. “No, I know his name, it’s just…” That was nice of him. Was his shirt still off? “Why didn’t Azriel come to help?”

“He’s at work. Just started a new job in town at the dealership. Mechanic. Works on the tractors and whatnot.”

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel, only what Elain had told her of him. Although, if she remembered right, they all went to the same high school.

She didn’t care, though. All she cared about is that this Azriel treated her sweet Elain the way she deserved to be treated, and judging by the light in her eyes when she spoke of him, she knew that he was. 

“He said you two got off to kind of a rough start,” Elain said, stopping just in front of the front door.

“Azriel?” Nesta asked, genuinely confused.

Elain giggled. “No, Cassian. He really is a good guy, okay? Give him the benefit of the doubt, I know you don’t trust people easily. But dad trusted him with everything and he’s been around for a while. He’s the best ranch hand you’re going to get for this place. He loves it like it's his own.”

Nesta just huffed. 

“Anyway,” Elain went on, showing herself out. “How about we all get together for dinner tomorrow night? We can go anywhere, your choice.”

“Who is all?”

Elain shrugged. “Me and Azriel? I’ll see if Feyre wants to come. Maybe even ask Cassian-.”

“I don’t think-.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Elain said, smile bright, cutting off her sister’s protests. 

With that, Nesta watched as her sister walked back up the dirt road toward the main house.

Huffing out a breath, Nesta turned and looked at her new home. It wasn’t much, just a bedroom and a couch and a bathroom, but it was home. She’d make it hers.

Just like the main house and just like the bed and breakfast. She’d make them something she could be proud of.

And so, as the sun went down, Nesta got to work.

[aromantic-romance-writer]

Tokito Muichiro x Fem! Pillar! Reader! [It Starts with a Piggyback Ride]

Reposted this here from my other account because it was broken somehow

Aaahhhh!! This my first time EVER writing something kny related. Is this a headcannon? A one-shot? I'm still pretty confused with the terms Woops-

I hope you enjoy!

WARNING: Slight manga spoilers and a long read ahead!

"I'm [L/N] [F/N]. I look forward to be working with you." You smile at your now fellow pillars sincerely. You're only 16, yet here you are; now called the Air Pillar.

In just a few days, Mitsuri, Rengoku and Shinobu has taken a great liking to you already. You can't say the same for Shinazugawa but you surprisingly spend a lot of time with him. You mostly trained and fought with him though. He was deeply intrigued with your breath style. Uzui and Himejima were close enough with you to let you ride on them and train with them for fun. Then there's Iguro, who doesn't really interact with you too much. The same for Tomioka, though you heard he was like that with everyone.

And as for Tokito-kun, he doesn't interact with you at all. You do see him often spacing out. You thought the two of you would get along better than the others since you're both the youngest amongst the pillars, I guess you were wrong.

° ° °

The first time Muichiro saw you, he felt odd. You somehow give off a vibe like Oyakata-sama to him. When you introduced yourself, he felt drawn to your voice. Your voice reminded him of something, but he wasn't sure what, since he lost his memories. He didn't like what he was feeling, what you were doing to him. He distanced himself from you as much as he can. Plus, he was taller than you. Sometimes though, he would watch you. He would watch you talk with Kanroji and Koccho. You always had a calm composure, and you seemed to have an easy atmosphere. He woyld also watch you play along with Uzui's 'I am a god' act, listen to Rengoku's telling you about his past missions and ecncouragement, make an effort to communicate with Tomioka and Iguro. Of course, you applied the same effort with Muichiro, but he somehow always finds a way to distance himself with you.

One day, the older pillars were discussing about something. You were curious as they didn't include you in the sudden meeting. Was it important? Was it about a mission too dangerous for a newbie like you?

Finally, Rengoku spotted you and waved. "Ah, young [L/N]! You're just in time!"

You walked closer and tilted your head in confusion. "In time? For what?"

"Looks like Tokito just arrived as well." Shinobu added.

Shinobu's tone was giving you a bad feeling. Tokito-kun is just as confused as you are.

"Hah! I've seen this kid fight a hundred times already. I'm betting my ass on her." Shinazugawa says with a little too much confidence in his voice.

"This isn't really appropriate for the children..." Himejima grumbles in response.

"It could be fun! Our two youngest, heading face to face head-on! Flamboyantly!" Uzui's eyes sparkled.

Bad feeling confirmed.

° ° °

Muichiro wasn't comfortable at the idea of having a duel with you. He didn't know why, as he never even gave the time to consider talking to you. But it did piqued his interest that Shinazugawa himself acknowledged your strength.

You unsheathe your sword. He had just noticed that a deep-blue ribbon was tied around the handle of your sword with its two tails flowing like a graceful wave behind you due to the breeze. The blade was a blinding silver and it's quite short compared to normal blades. Even as you are about to battle, you wore a smile. "I'll be in your care, Tokito-kun."

Muichiro twitched and initiated first. It was rare for him to attack first, but he wanted to end this as soon as possible. With a deadpan expression, he says; "Breath of Mist, Seventh form: Haze". He charges at you. Before he can even come close...

"Breath of Air, Fourth form: Ozone Deflection." You spin your sword in front of you with full force like a giant fan. You gripped the tails of the ribbon of your sword tighter as all the mist Muichiro created blew away. He falls back, realizing what you have done to his attack.

How can a girl like you were able to deflect his attack like it was nothing? And that calm with a mix of ease expression you always have. He's getting serious now.

"Sixth form: Moonlit Mist." He attempts to attack you from above--

"First form: Intoxicating Oxygen." You deflected his ranged attacks with your swinging the sword around. The slashes of your sword while deflecting his ranged attacks reaches Muichiro. Each slash didn't hurt him or wound him, rather it suffocates him more and more.

He noticed that you weren't holding your sword by the handle at all. You attack and use it like a single nunchuck by gripping unto the tails of the ribbon tied to the handle. If he can only get closer and cut that damn ribbon...

He barely lands back on the ground, coughing and wheezing as he did so. You took this chance...!

"Third form: Mountain Peak." You charged at him with great speed, he barely saw you move. You swung your sword at him consecutively, not giving him time to catch his breath.

Why is the air thinning? Or is it just the form you're attacking at Muichiro? Or is it just because of how fast and continuous your attacks are?

"Second form: Eight Layered Mist." His attacks were as equally fast as yours, but not a single attack from each one of you hits the other.

Soon, one of his attacks reached you and was able to slice the tails of your ribbon. You cuss in frustration and took your sword by the handle before it reaches the ground. You dodged his attacks as you rolled to the side.

"First form: Hanging Sky, Distant Mist." Your eyes widen in conflict as to what form you should use to deflect his straightforward thrust attack. You decided you didn't have a choice.

"Breath Technique: Atmoshpere."

Muichiro stopped in his tracks. You disappeared. He just blinked for half a second and you were gone. A breath technique? What the hell is that? And how did you move without barely--

Muichiro felt his body freeze up as he felt the cool iron of a blade. Your blade. You were breathing hard. The breath technique you used exhausts you too much, but it was worth it.

You won.

"Hell, yeah!" Shinazugawa screamed in triumph. "All of you dumbasses owe me a drink."

"You're surprisingly hyped up about this." Iguro implies. But Shinazugawa doesn't listen.

"I had faith in you, young Tokito!" Rengoku huffs jokingly.

"Ara ara, I didn't think you'd lose, Tokito-kun." Shinobu says with a tone that annoyed Muichiro.

Mitsuri slithered her arms around your neck, pulling you into a hug. "You did so well, [Y/N]-chan!"

"You have such a unique combat style though. What a flamboyant way to use a sword!"

You thanked them and laughed. After that, you all had dinner at the Ubuyashiki Estate. Everyone was talking about your fight with Tokito-kun, and how you defeat him. It was all flattering, but you just really wanted to have a bond with Tokito-kun. Tokito finished early and went outside. You followed soon after, not wanting to be dragged into the older pillars' drinking sesh.

You found him sitting on the engawa, staring at the star-filled sky. You sat a few meters away from him. Tonight, you were determined to at least start a short and small coversation with him.

Muichiro doesn't take notice of your presence on purpose. He knew he was gonna distance himself from you, but he was embarassed of his loss. Leaving might give you an impression that he's ashame of it. Truthfully, he kinda is.

"You're such a skillful swordsman, Tokito-kun!" you compliment him suddenly, almost startling Muichiro. "Even though you're just 14 and have a small build, you seem to have enhanced strength. It was fun clashing blades with you!"

He stares at you. "Fun? You find that fun?"

You nodded, smiling blissfully under the light of the full moon. For a moment, Muichiro was entranced. He never knew a simple smile out of pure joy can be so magical to look at. And he sees grateful faces almost everyday. The people who he have saved would always thank him and smile, happy to be saved and alive. That felt good for him, of course, but seeing you smile such a wonderful smile felt different. It felt foreign to him. Now, he thought if you smile like that and he was the reason...

He felt as if his temperature went up by a few degrees. Is he sick? What's with the sudden high in temperature?

"T-Tokito-kun! Are you okay?" You ask with concern clear in your voice. "You're face is red..." you scooch closer to him. It only made his temperature higher. "May I?" you ask, gesturing if you can place your hand on his forehead. He nodded slowly. You place your hand on his forehead; resulting to an even hotter and redder Muichiro. "You're hot...you should call it a day and get some rest."

Muichiro just kept nodding. He didn't know why his temperature keeps getting higher and higher. What made him question the most is his fondness of you getting concerned for him. Somehow, this felt different from Shinobu and the Kakushis aiding him after missions. He couldn't control himself and lets you pamper him more. This was such a nostalgic feeling for him. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember anything.

All he knows is that he craves for more of your genuine care and concern for him.

You stood. "I'll walk with you to your residence before anything happens to you. I'll tell the others that we'll take our leave-"

You stop mid-sentence, surprised. Muichiro was holding unto your haori, his head low. He was feeling ashamed and good of himself at the same time.

"It's fine, they're too drunk to notice we're gone anyway." He says softly. His voice alarms you.

"A-are you okay?!" You place both your hands on his cheeks and crouched a little to level your eyes with his. It was probably a bad idea because the only thing you can think of is...

Adorable.

A d o r a b l e.

Muichiro was so cute for you at that moment, being red in the face with an embarassed expression.

But you forced yourself to come back to reality. "Tokito-kun, you're burning up! Can you walk?"

His hands slightly shakes as he clasped your hands and put them down. You give him space to stand, flushed about your actions and thoughts earlier. He stands successfully, but when he takes a step, his face almost meets the ground before you catch him.

"How can you have a blank expression right now..." You mumble to yourself as you examine Muichiro to see if he hurt himself. "This will be embarassing for you, but I need you to cooperate with me before you get a fever or flu." He stares at you expectantly.

° ° °

This was definitely not what he had in his mind.

He was riding on your back. A piggyback ride.

You gave him a piggyback ride. He wasn't sure what to feel about this.

"Tokito-kun, hold onto me or you'll fall." You say.

"...o-okay." His wraps his arms around your neck as he let his head rest on you, feeling flustered.

He admits that you are strong. You've proven that to him clearly. And it somehow gave him a sense of security when you're like this with him. The feeling also felt...nostalgic. He couldn't remember what, but it isn't like he's trying hard though.

The crickets were noisy tonight, and the cool breeze is making the leaves of trees rustle. The wisteria trees seems to be glowing with the moon. Deep in his heart, Muichiro wished to stay like this for the rest of the night.

"Are you okay back there?" You ask quietly, in case he was asleep.

He hummed in response. Now he understands why he was so drawn to your voice. Your voice was like a soothing and sweet lull to him. He can listen to you talk all day without even trying. Such a sweet and kind sound...

"Keep talking." He says blandly. He craves more of your voice.

"Oh, okay..." You decided this was a chance to get to know him better! "Do you like to cloud-gaze, Tokito-kun?"

He wanted to listen to you, but he doesn't mind talking with you. "Mhm. They're nice to look at."

"They are since they can form into familiar shapes. I like the stars better though." You smile to yourself. Stars were very beautiful, and you can't help but feel jealous of their beauty.

"You said that you had fun earlier...why so?"

You give it a thought before answering. "Most people would feel anxious about being in a fight, but it's a different case for me. I feel excitement runnung through my veins instead. The sound of swords clashing, the raspy breathing I'll have because of exhaustion...it gives me such an adrenaline rush!" Your eyes sparkled. "Of course, I was against of the idea of fighting you though."

Muichiro stays quiet, waiting for a reason why.

"You're just so cute, Tokito-kun!"

He blushed. Hard.

His heart was beatung way too fast than it should be, and he was starting to sweat. He fiddled with his fingers and attempts to hide his face in your soft hair even though you can't see his reaction. But you can feel his heartbeat against you. You laughed is response.

"Cut it out."

"I'm just being honest."

"Yeah, cut it out."

You let out a giggle, making Muichiro blush even more. What the hell is happening to him?

° ° °

Everyday since then, he was clingy towards you. He was always beside you during meetings, eating meals with the other pillars, sometimes when you chat with Shinobu and Mitsuri. The other pillars were aware of what Muichiro is showing you, but they decided to shut their mouths to tease him. It was obvious he has no idea what he's doing, moreover what he feels about you. Whenever he would give you space, though, he would sit on the engawa and 'cloud-gaze'. That's what he claims. In reality, he would watch you. If he can't be beside you, it doesn't mean he can't watch you, right? Whenever you look at his direction though, he would look up and pretend that he's been watching the clouds this whole time.

"[Y/N]-chan~." Mitsuri calls you with a sly smile. "Have you not noticed it yet?"

You tilt your head in confusion.

"It seems like she has no idea, actually." Shinobu laughs.

You blink. "What?"

Mitsuri giggled like a five-year-old. "[Y/N], you're too cute for your own good."

"I think the right word is dense." Shinobu adds.

"Please don't compare me to Tomioka-san..." You sheepishly smile, half-joking. Shinobu is happy at your response.

She has a bad influence on you regarding Tomioka.

"Really though. You don't see it?" Mitsuri asks. Shinobu turns to Muichiro, who was looking at your direction. Shinobu waves at him with an innocent smile. He was about to hesitantly wave back, when you turned to him. His face was tinted with an obvious color of red and quickly looked down.

Oh. That's what they meant.

"Do you see it now?"

You nodded, feeling a bit flustered as well. Honestly, you've noticed this behaviour already last week. You didn't want to be full of yourself as you thought it was only you, so you shook the thought off. But knowing that the pillars noticed as well...

Your heart skipped a beat.

Muichiro is fun to be with. He had this side you never knew he had. And you noticed that he only shows that side to you. He was adorable, yes, but he had this charming side to him as well. And the smile he always gives you.

You fiddle at the sleeves of your haori, embarassed. You like him as well. Though all this time you kept convincing yourself that he only sees you as a big sister, since you're older and taller than him.

"[Y/N]-chan! You're sooooo cute!" Mitsuri squealed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"M-Mitsuri-san!" You stutter. Shinobu just laughs. Your reaction was adorable for them.

° ° °

"Muichiro-kun!"

Later that afternoon, you dcided to spend it with Muichiro. Your heart is already beating out of your chest.

He was silent and just stared at you. You blink a few times. Did you do something wrong? Did he know what you and the other female pillars talked about earlier?

"W-what's wrong?" You ask before you sit beside him on the engawa.

He stares at the ground for a minute before answering. "Rengoku-san and Uzui-san told me something. I'm not sure if it's true..."

~

The Sound and Flame pillar had given Muichiro a pep talk this morning.

"Tokito, you like [L/N]." Uzui says bluntly.

Muichiro just stared at him. "I know that. Doesn't everyone like her though?"

Rengoku laughed heartily while Uzui face palmed.

"Young Tokito! It seems that you have not realized your feelings yet!"

"Yeah, no shit."

Muichiro just wants to walk away at this point, but Rengoku grabbed his shoulders.

"Tokito...you must know what love is, right?"

He nodded.

"Then let me rephrase Uzui's statement; Tokito, you love [Y/N]."

Muichiro processed what he said. After a few seconds, his face basically exploded. Does he love you? LOVE? Well, he likes the other pillars as well, but he likes you more though. He always wants to lean on you, smile with you, be safe with you...

...to be with you...

Muichiro wanted to stab himself with his sword.

"Question is, does she love you back?" Uzui adds.

Now Muichiro wanted to stab him.

"Why don't you ask her?" Rengoku smiles radiantly.

Now Muichiro wants to stab both of them.

"Just tell her this, then if she reacts this way, you'll know." Uzui winks. "We've got your back."

~

Can't he just stab himself right now?

"What's that?" You tilt your head a little.

You cute bundle of joy. How the hell is he supposed to say that to you?

He takes a deep breath. "[Y-Y/N]..." he started the statement, too late to back down now. "...I want to be with you."

You stare at him. His head was low, but you can see how red his face is. After some processing, you were a blushing mess.

"E-eehhh?!"

"B-before you say anything...!" he finally looks up at you. He froze. You were very red in the face. Your eyes were darting around. You were fiddling with your hands and hair.

All the reactions Uzui stated.

"...You're more beatiful than the stars!" He exclaimed almost too loudly. "You don't have to compare yourself with the stars. You're pretty just the way you are."

You swear, you're gonna have a heart attack soon.

"A-and I want to take care of you. You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I don't have to draw my sword when I'm around you, but I'll protect you too! My memories aren't back but that doesn't matter as long as I get to see you smile everyday..." he finished. His knuckles were white, anxious and afraid to what you will say.

You finally calmed down and smiled softly. You wrap your hands around his own, making him look at you. You were both a blushing mess, but you were more calm now. You kiss his nose and rest your forehead against his.

"I feel the same way. Thank you for coming into my life. Let's protect each other, Muichiro-kun."

Muichiro has never felt so happy, and hummed in agreement. You stayed like that for what felt like forever.

° ° °

"Muichiro-kun, give this to Tanjiro and the others at the Pillar Training later." You hand him 3 bento boxes and kiss him on the forehead. He was disappointed he can't do the same since you're taller, but you still appreciate his surprise kisses on your cheek.

"Can't you delay the mission just a little bit?" he pouted. You giggle at his cuteness.

"I'm sorry I have to go, Mui, but I promise I'll be back before midnight, okay?" he placed the bento boxes down and hugged you tight.

He regained his memories a while back and met a kind hearted boy named Tanjiro. Though your first meeting was a bit rough, the both of you were very fond of him and soon became close with him and his demon sister. Tanjiro and Nezuko, as well as most of the pillars, are supportive of your relationship. While Zenitsu, Inosuke, Shinazugawa and Iguro woukd either be pretending to throw up or disapproves, or just gets jealous and tries to snatch you away (mostly Zenitsu, and his reason would always be 'because you're the same age', resulting with Muichiro training him harder than ever.)

"You better be back. I'll be waiting for your return." he tries to sound intimidating, despite smiling.

You wave at him as he waves back. "Don't be too harsh on training today!" And you set off.

° ° °

"You're a strong one. You only survived from that attack."

The smell of blood was pungent as at least dozens of corpses clothed in either yukatas and kimonos or the black demon slayer uniform were lying on the cold ground.

"T-this was s-supposed to be a mission suitable for us Tsuchinoto, then an upper moon shows up...!" the demon slayer tells himself, shaking in fear under the intimidating eyes - 6 eyes - of the demon. He attempts to kill him, before--

"Breath of Air, Second form: Jagged Pierce Breathing."

You saved the confused and afraid demon slayer before the demon lands a blow. His arm sprayed blood all over in a zigzag, before the wounds completely closed.

"Run. Escape, and report immediately." You tell him. He didn't hesitate and ran away as fast as he can, but it was useless. The demon had caught up to him and killed him on the spot.

"Breath of Air? In all my years, I haven't heard of that one." he says, as if he didn't just kill a person. As if nothing happened.

His presence made your skin crawl with fear. You gripped tightly on the tails of the ribbon tied to your sword until your knuckles turned white. You can't move, afraid that a single step might do harm on you from him just by looking at you. You took in the scene - the horrifying scene. Adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was a different kind; it wasn't the same as you've always felt when you fight. A new emotion slowly envelopes you.

"I guess you're about to know." You say as fear turned to rage. Without you knowing, a demon slayer mark has appeared on your wrist. Then you see everyone's smiling faces flash before you one by one. Muichiro was last and the longest. Then it ocurred to you.

Upper Moon One.

You're not gonna survive this fight.

You weren't sure if you were gonna win or not.

But you'll die trying. You quietly apologize to Muichiro for breaking your promise.

The demon, with a blank expression, says to you;

"Don't disappoint me."

° ° °

Everyone was at their own home. Enjoying the morning, or eating breakfast, or training. Either way, everyone was calm and peaceful. Then the color of the crow, dark, have influenced the moods of the ones closest to [Y/N] as their own crows brought the news.

The pillars were in disbelief. Mitsuri cried while Shinobu was on the verge of tears, but tried to remain calm. "First, Rengoku-san, now..." She couldn't continue her sentence. Shinazugawa's hatred for the demons only increased as he almost grew violent to the point of almost destroying his own dojo. Uzui heard the news and visited the Ubuyashiki Estate, meeting the other pillars there. They also had a meeting so everyone was present, even Uzui when he's already reitred. Muichiro was the only one who didn't show. Oyakata-sama had exempted him from the meeting.

Muichiro was the last to hear the news. His crow brought along with the news a tattered and bloodied ribbon. Its natural blue color was barely visible because of the blood. He lost his brother, then Rengoku, then you...

You, who brought joy to his world. You, where he can only feel safe. You, who would braid your hair, gaze at the clouds and stars with him, train with him, eat with him and with friends, live happily with him...

At first, he couldn't believe it. But his crow wasn't done delivering the message as it didn't fly away yet. His usually obnoxious crow was quiet, as it can feel the tremendous amount of emotions he's feeling. He saw a piece of parchment tied to its leg. With shaking hands, he carefully unties the parchment from its leg and read what it said.

There, written in blood with your familiar handwriting.

"I love you."

That's where he broke down. The words he always wanted to say. You managed to say it to him first, even after you have died. His sobs were loud. He never cried like this. He never felt this kind of pain before since hmthe death of his brother.

He felt absolutely broken. He misses your soothing voice already.

Tanjiro arrives with Nezuko on his back, who seemed to have been crying on the way. He comforted him as best as he could.

His chest hurt as he brought the ribbon close to him. The only piece of your memory.

After a few months, Muichiro have regained himself and did his best at training the demon slayers, doing his job as a pillar, and making up to Oyakata-sama for not showing up to a lot of meetings. When he was done for the day, he would go straight home and hold your sword that has been delivered to him 2 weeks after your death. On display, a jar decorated with the tattered ribbon stood. Inside were your ashes. Luckily, your battle with the upper moon demon lasted until morning, so you're body was still there. He would always tell you about his day. But he always says the same sentence after he's done.

"[Y/N], you're so unfair..." he whispers. "...you met and seen my brother before me."

° ° °

Muichiro couldn't believe it. In the infinite fortress, there he stood.

Upper Moon One.

The same demon who killed you.

His hands trembled, gripping his sword. He took the ribbon from your jar and have tied it around the hilt of his sword. He can feel his blood boiling. He can feel the anger surge through him as memories of you become fresh on his mind. He was gonna lose it.

"Calm yourself." Your soothing and sweet voice echoed, sounding hollow and afar.

But then a breeze. A breeze that was never meant to be there. A cool breeze as if to cool him down. A breeze where he can breathe. A non-existent breeze.

He can feel your arms hug around his neck; the same way he hugged you that day being carried on your back.

"Breathe. Breathe, Mui, and you will win."

He closed his eyes. "I love you..." he can feel you smile. Soon, he couldn't feel your warmth anymore.

He's gonna avenge you.

Somehow. Even if it kills him.

[its-toasted]

We hemorrhaging that hard-earned but we getting there man. We tell ourselves we’ll stop with July. Hmmm

Who knew big windows and a ceiling fan and a screendoor are everything. In some ways I’m that simple. Every morning feels like when I was eleven on the roof of grandpa’s beachhouse in Korea. Where have you been my whole life.

You’re thinking beachhousewowsickgood but I assure you it was a Shack in the cut. But it was also near this lil strip called Malipo beach and we'd go fishing and baby crab hunting under rocks. Then my brother went to the ER off a crazy centipede bite. I don't think you've seen Korean centipedes.

Other lovely memories of Korea: EMart was the OG Walmart. Church felt the same. Cool Shot was sugar-stuffed ice chips and possibly my first addiction and there is literally one single picture of this joint on the internet. Samchun’s apple orchard. Wondering why mom left all of these people. But I don’t need to ask that anymore.

I been at my new place for a week and I’m home. Like this is enough. Sunsoaking in a breeze on the balcony. Fan drifting like a lazy river, just enough to keep things crisp. I can't do stale air. And this only costs copper and sometimes a second layer.

I forgot to grab my cello. We might tune up again. That’s crazy, y’all don’t even understand. I was pretty dirty. She’s maybe the OG old flame. Nah that’s a lie. Sydney’s voice takes me any day. She was my first real muse. Our life in Gchat. She was a real dancer. And a better drummer. And a voice like a tender Emma Stone. First girl I'd fall asleep on the phone with. Ugh.

This is what happens when I try to write in order, like starting from the top. I'm a mess. I need aderrall. Anyways so I had classical music booted up from umma’s foot to my ass since I had glasses. Which is like since I remember anything at all. I dug the youth orchestra scene but the adults were all a bit stuffy. That's a euphemism for stiff. Imagine if I ever had a cool conductor. In another life I’d be teaching cello lessons. I didn’t get along with like half my conductors, I could be difficult. But we tried to play nice.

I had the greatest first cello teacher. I haven’t thought about her in many years. She was a twenty-something tumbler, all virginia slim and lipstick and designer sunglasses and a really big smile. Living the dream just outside DC. Lessons with Erica were like therapy. Or being in a big sister program with a master cellist. She caught me. She taught me how to play right, got these guilty hands first chair everywhere but state. She moved away before I hit high school for a better degree and a gig in NYC. I never got along with any cello teachers after her. Maybe I stopped wanting to learn when she left. I’m like that. Like I said I can be difficult.

I almost majored in music in school, and then I didn’t, and I set that bitch down in her case like sleeping beauty lol. Goodbye like shit for over five years. I was too busy finding a good pen (Zebra-301). I got her restrung the day after my birthday two summers ago, fooled around for two weeks, and tucked her away again.

So rocky is about right. But we'll give it another go. There’s love there somewhere, I know that. It’s just hard because I don’t associate it with good times, you know? But I love music. And the deep of a cello. Honestly I stopped playing around the time I bought my first good piece and started bumping r&b and maybe that was a mistake.

A friend said they wished I tried writing short stories. I think I'm averse to doing new things these days. Always finding reasons why not. I don't like that. I miss feeling like everything was for me. And I write like we’re getting back there but it’s always waves. This is the best I can do today but we're tryna keep things in mind.

Here's my joint I'm airbnb'ing the couch or you can BYOBed and currency can be chipotle or plant matter please DM me a photo of you in the summertime and your second favorite book

[livesincerely]

invisible strings (tying you to me)

Also on Ao3. Rated E. 

Disclaimer, this is an A/B/O fic, which I recognize is not everyone’s cup of tea, so skip over this one if that’s not something you’re a fan of. <3

00000

It’s the smell that catches Jack’s attention first⁠—a citrusy sweet scent that drifts into Newsies Square with the morning breeze. Jack tilts his head, glancing up and down the street for the source, wondering if he can afford to spare a few cents for a morning pastry because he needs a bite of whatever that is, can already feel his mouth watering in anticipation… and then he sees Les and Davey break through the crowd. 

Les is oddly subdued, staying close to his brother’s side, and Davey looks off, somehow, in a way that Jack can’t quite but his finger on, his mouth pursed and his eyes bright with irritation and… and…

There’s another gust of wind and that delicious smell hits again, even stronger this time, and holy shit, that’s Davey.

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stands on end.

“Hi, Jack,” Les greets quickly, before peeling off to go join the littles in their daily pre-work game of marbles.

“Hey, bud,” Jack responds, a few seconds too late for Les to hear him, his eyes fixed unerringly on Davey. Now that he’s closer Jack can see how flushed he is⁠—his eyes a touch glassy and his face and neck shaded pink with fever⁠—which is far more distracting than it has any right to be. “Uh, Dave? You doin’ alright?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I’m in pre-heat,” Davey says, and the edge of sarcasm in his voice does nothing to dull the way those words hit Jack like a punch to the gut. “Then, yes, I’m in pre-heat.”

“And that’s… okay?” Jack says, trying to find a delicate way to ask if it’s good idea for Davey to be out and about in this state.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Davey says, in a tone that indicates that he’s already had this conversation a few times this morning. “Just because my cycle’s coming up doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to—” He cuts off abruptly, nostrils flaring, but Jack hears the rest of that sentence loud and clear: Doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to knot me. 

Which is an image that Jack really didn’t need put in his head.

“I know it doesn’t,” Jack says carefully, dragging his wandering mind back to the present. “I’m not sayin’ anythin’ of the sort. But Racer gets cramps like you wouldn’t believe and Blink’s nose gets so sensitive he can’t hardly stand to be out in the city, let alone hawk papes all day. I guess I’m jus’ sayin’...” He pauses, searching for a way to put this into words without invoking any more of Davey’s ire. “I jus’ wanted to check, ya know? Check and...”

Davey looks at him, and then the defensive set of his shoulders relaxes slightly. 

“...You just wanted to make sure,” Davey finishes softly. “Of course you did, you’re Jack, you don’t know how to be anything but stupidly overprotective.” He shakes his head and sighs, then continues, “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you, but it’s already been a rough morning and I’m a little on edge. But I’m okay, honestly, just feeling a bit achy and, well, irritable, as you can see.”

“Fair enough,” Jack says. “I hadta ask, but if ya say it’s fine, then I believe ya. I mean, you’re the one that’d know, right?”

Jack feels like he’s working with only half of his brain, just standing there stating the obvious like a goddamn moron and trying not to breathe too deeply lest the cloud of Davey scent send him into a complete tailspin, but Davey smiles at him like he’s said something incredible.

“Right,” Davey agrees, his scent cresting even sweeter as his expression lifts. “Exactly.” 

They stare at each other, the moment stretching on and on. 

Davey takes a step back and clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Well, we should probably get going.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jack agrees, giving himself a little shake⁠—like that might clear some of Davey’s scent from his nose. It doesn’t, of course, but a fella can hope. “Sure, of course. “

“So, um, how many more days do you think you’ll be able to work?” Jack asks as they get in line for their papes⁠—not wanting to push but needing to know what he’s in for. “Before it, uh, hits for real?”

“My cycles tend to be pretty mild, so maybe another couple of days at least?” Davey says, nonchalant, and Jack’s brain stutters like an engine misfiring. “I can’t really afford to miss too many days of work, so I’m going to try and wait it out for as long as I can. But I’ll play it by ear.”

Jack swallows heavily. Davey already smells goddamn delicious, like spiced citrus and orange blossoms, all surrounded by a heady honey-sweetness, and it’s only going to get stronger. If this is what counts as mild, then Jack’s not sure he’ll survive for another two days.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “Sure, that makes sense.”

They move steadily up the line. Jack knows that Davey is talking to him but he’s having a hard time paying attention⁠ to the conversation—even harder than usual. Everything about Davey seems especially enticing today: Jack finds his gaze lingering on the swell of his lower lip, plump and pink, on the gentle flutter of his lashes, perfectly framed around those big blue eyes, on the long, lean line of his throat, and of course, there’s still that intoxicating scent. 

Jack realizes that Davey’s asked him a question and has been waiting several seconds for an answer, quickly stammering out, “Uh, yeah, definitely.”

Davey frowns. Jack panics.

“Hey, Kelly, Jacobs,” Morris DeLancey calls, annoyed, and Jack’s never been grateful for a DeLancey in his life, but apparently there’s a first for everything. “Are ya buyin’ your papes or what? You’re holdin’ us up.”

Jack fishes in his pockets with fumbling hands, hurriedly handing over the money while Davey collects the papes.

“Hey, Oscar,” Davey says after thumbing through the stack, passing them to Jack once he’s through counting them. “We’re one short.”

DeLancey shrugs⁠—like he couldn’t care less about cheating them out of a pape⁠, the bastard—and goes to hand Davey another one, but then he pauses, head cocked and nose twitching as he catches a scent. He snatches the pape back just as Davey reaches for it. 

“Sure you wanna be hittin’ the streets there, Jacobs?” he says with a smirk, a dark glint in his eye. “You’re smellin’ a little… ripe for the takin’, if ya know what I mean. Might wanna⁠—”

Davey’s scent goes pungently bitter⁠—to the point that Jack staggers back a little at the strength of it. He pins DeLancey with a glare so withering that he falters mid word.

“Give me my fucking newspaper,” Davey bites out, his voice absolutely dripping with contempt.

There’s a distinct note of fear threading through the air as DeLancey holds the pape out again. Davey rips it from his hand so violently that the thing nearly tears in half, then stalks away, fuming.

“You really don’t got a single lick of sense, do ya, DeLancey?” Jack says with a sneer, then hurries after him.

“That fucking asshole,” Davey spits out when Jack catches up to him, almost too furious to speak. “Fucking DeLancey and his alpha posturing bullshit.”

“You wanna go back over there and punch him?” Jack offers, and he keeps his tone light but he’s deadly serious. “I’ll hold his arms for ya.”

Davey takes in a breath, then lets it out slowly, visibly straining for calm. 

“No,” he eventually grits out. “No, it’s not worth it.”

“Do ya need a second?”

“I just want to get this day over with,” Davey admits, expression torn between frustration and weariness.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jack promises. He can’t pull Davey into a hug the way he wants to⁠—that will put his nose a little too close to Davey’s neck and he doesn’t trust himself not to just press his face against Davey’s scent gland and inhale⁠—so he settles for a simple pat on the back. “Let’s grab Les and shake a leg.”

For a second it feels like Davey sways on his feet, leaning ever so slightly into the contact, but the moment passes so quickly that Jack can’t be sure it ain’t just wishful thinking on his part. They start heading over to Les, but then a sudden thought occurs to him.

“Jackie?” Davey questions, when he notices that Jack’s stopped walking.

“One sec,” Jack says, turning back towards the distribution line. “I wanna see if one of the fellas can come with us today.”

He tries to say this as casually as possible, but of course Davey sees right through him, hitting Jack with a look—the one that says he thinks Jack’s being ridiculous.

“We don’t need a chaperone, Jackie,” he says firmly, like even just offering the possibility is absurd. “You’re nothing like Oscar DeLancey, you’re not going to hurt me.”

Something in Jack preens at this statement, impossibly pleased at Davey’s faith in him. But this isn’t something Jack’s willing to budge on.

“It’d make me feel better to have someone else watchin’ your back. Someone that for sure won’t get caught up in any ‘alpha posturing bullshit,’” he says, mimicking Davey’s tone from before.

“Fine,” Davey says, rolling his eyes even as a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “If that’s what you want. But I really don’t think that would’ve been an issue.”

Jack thinks that Davey’s giving him far too much credit, or is just drastically underestimating how good he smells. But he doesn’t say any of that, instead continuing to scan through the throng of Newsies that haven’t set off yet, searching for someone who’d be down to accompany them.

“Hey, Racer,” Jack calls when he spots him, waving to get his attention. “Come sellin’ with us?”

Racetrack wanders over, glances between Jack and Davey and then back to Jack, and catches onto the crux of the matter immediately. “Yeah, sure,” he agrees. “No such thing as too much back up.”

“Race, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Davey says, “helping me team up against Jack, not the other way around. Where’s the omega solidarity?”

“Ain’t you the one always tellin’ me to stop taking stupid risks?” Racer asks, somewhat absently, looking over Davey with a critical eye. “Hey, Davey, can I give you a hug? You look like ya need one.”

Davey opens his arms immediately. “Oh my god, yes, please.”

Racer is several inches shorter, but he makes a valiant attempt at wrapping Davey up in his arms. A rush of seething jealousy hits Jack like a wave breaking against the rocks, but he fights it down as best he can because he knows he’s being an idiot.

Jack doesn’t need to step between them, doesn’t need to tear Davey from Race’s grasp, doesn’t need to bare his teeth at him for daring to put his hands on Jack’s— 

Jack doesn’t need to do any of that. Jack doesn’t need to do anything at all, except find a nice dark hole to drop himself into, or maybe run headlong into a brick wall and spend the rest of Davey’s heat blissfully unconscious, because he doesn’t know how else he’s gonna make it through.

Race curls his fingers around the nape of Davey’s neck, Davey let out a soft, contented noise, sinking further into the embrace, and Jack has to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out for him.

He is so fucked.

00000

It’s ain’t the worst morning Jack’s ever had, but it’s damn sure up there. He’d spent the walk out talking with Les⁠—or, really, letting Les chatter at him a mile-a-minute and very carefully not looking at where Racetrack and Davey are walking arm in arm, heads tipped together as they whisper and laugh.

But it’s when they actually start working that things really take a turn for the worse. Jack’s only putting the barest bit of effort into sellin’ his papes, most of his attention focused on where Race and Davey are selling just down the street. Davey seems like he’s doing okay to begin with, but as the morning rush continues, Jack notices that he’s getting a lot of... unwanted attention, to say the least. He and Race look like they have it well in hand, but by midday Davey is visibly tense, shoulders hunched up around his ears and looking like he might beat the next person that so much as looks at him wrong bloody with a rolled up newspaper.

Jack foists one last pape off to a random passerby, barely even waiting long enough to take their coin, then makes his way over. As he approaches, he sees Race and Davey exchange a few words, with Davey disappearing into a nearby alley for what looks like a well-deserved breather. 

“How is he?” Jack asks quietly, nodding his head towards where Davey is pacing and muttering to himself, incensed.

“He could be doin’ better,” Race admits, running a hand through his hair, brow furrowed with concern. “It feels like every other person that passes has got somethin’ smart to say. Asshole customers ain’t nothin’ new, but he’s gettin’ harassed pretty bad and he ain’t in any kinda mindset to put up with it.”

“You think someone’s gonna try somethin’?” Jack asks seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know they ain’t exactly the same, but you can usually make it to at least your second day of pre-heat before anyone gets handsy.”

“I ain’t worried about that, his scent ain’t anywhere close to peaking,” Race says, shaking his head. “Though, I guess anythin’s possible. I’m more worried that the next person that sniffs too hard is gonna get their lights punched out.”

Jack considers this. Pre-heat can come with a variety of symptoms, and different omegas are prone to different ones. Racetrack tends to get horribly painful cramps and turns into an absolute cuddle monster, crawling all over anyone who will sit still and pet his hair for a few minutes. Blink’s senses get super sensitive, usually sending him into the safety of a nest for several days, refusing to let anyone touch him unless they’ve washed the stink of the streets from their skin. Davey, it seems, is the type that runs hot, both his fever and his temper, which is such a departure from his usual disposition that it’s almost comical. 

Because Davey is normally as steady as an oak tree, impossibly patient and put together. His anger is like water in a dam⁠—carefully contained and difficult to surmount, but with a hard limit nonetheless. But now with his heat coming on, that dam seems like it’s dangerously close to bursting.

“Let’s try and keep it from gettin’ that far,” Jack says with a wince. “The last thing Davey needs is to get arrested for murder.”

“So you’re gonna talk him into goin’ home?” Race asks, looking relieved at the prospect. 

“I’m gonna try.”

Jack steps over to where Davey is pacing up and down the alley. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles showing white through the skin, and his citrusy-sweet scent gone almost acidic with aggression. 

“Hey, Davey,” Jack says gently as he approaches. “Maybe you should just go ahead and call it quits for the day.”

Davey whirls around, eyes on fire. “I am just fine—!”

“You are not fine,” Jack says calmly. “And I’m not even talking about your heat, though I’m sure that ain’t making things any easier on you.” 

He steps forward, running a hand soothingly along Davey’s arm, then catching his wrist in his palm and squeezing it lightly. “Querido, you smell like you’re two seconds from kicking someone’s teeth in, and that’s from a block and a half away. You’re fucking miserable.”

Davey deflates, his head hanging low. “I could keep selling,” he says, but it’s a weak protest. “I could.”

I know you could, if ya had to,” Jack assures him. “But ya don’t have to. You don’t got nothin’ to prove to nobody, you hear me? People are dicks, that ain’t your fault.”

“Newsies code: if you’re walking, you’re working,” Davey counters stubbornly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “I’m walking, so I should be working.”

“I never shoulda told ya about that stupid code,” Jack says softly, shaking his head. “All ya do is use it as a excuse to work yourself into the ground.” He steps closer, tapping at Davey’s chin with his forefinger until he meets his eyes. “Davey, it’s okay to need a day. All of us need a day every now and then⁠⁠—this ain’t no different than those times when Crutchie needs a break to rest his leg or last month when Albert had that bad cold that knocked him on his ass. It happens. So stop bein’ so hard headed and take care of yourself for once, yeah?”

Davey huffs out a laugh. “You’re one to talk about being hard headed, Jackie,” he says, deflecting, and maybe some other time Jack would let him shrug his concerns aside, but not this time.

“Dave, I’m serious,” Jack says. “We got your back, okay? We’ll keep an eye on Les, split up your usual share of papes between the lot of us, and sell as many as we can. It’ll all work out⁠; just let us help you, alright?”

“Alright,” Davey finally agrees. 

“Thank you, Dave,” Jack says, and he pulls him into a hug.

Davey comes easily into the embrace, hooking his chin over Jack’s shoulder and leaning into him with a soft sigh. Then he lets out a tiny, startled noise and all but collapses against Jack’s chest.

“Dave!” Jack yelps, hands flying to Davey’s waist to steady him. He’s gone completely limp, his knees buckling out from under him, eyes glazed over. “Davey, what⁠—?”

And then Jack smells it. 

Jesus Christ does he smell it.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I thought you said ya had a couple more days before it hit?” Jack exclaims, shifting Davey around until he can cradle him against his chest. He can feel the heat pouring off of Davey even through his layers of clothes, sweat starting to bead fresh at his temple.

“I do,” Davey says, but it comes out as more of a moan, tucking his nose right against Jack’s scent gland and inhaling shakily. Jack’s fingers tighten around his waist of their own accord. “I… It never hits early, it always comes… exactly… on time.”

But it’s undeniable. Davey’s blown right through the early stages and is revving up into a full-blown heat: right here, right now. 

Davey’s hands find the front of Jack’s shirt, clenching the fabric tight between his fists, his breaths coming in short, desperate pants. His scent has kicked up tenfold, saturating the air with citrus-sugar-honey-spice, and Jack can feel himself starting to lose it, his own scent spiking as he starts to spiral. 

Jack wants him. Wants to pin him up against the nearest flat surface and lick him all over. Wants to press his teeth against all that pretty, perfect skin until he’s covered in Jack’s scent and Jack’s marks. Wants to claim. Wants to make Davey his.

“Race!” Jack calls out. He tries to focus, tries breathing through his mouth instead, but it does absolute fuck all to help⁠—now he can taste Davey on his tongue. “Racetrack!”

Race comes running, skidding to a stop just inside the mouth of the alley, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, alarmed.

“Help,” Jack pleads, struggling to think rationally under the onslaught of Davey, but it’s like walking against the tide. His hands sit heavy on Davey’s hips, just barely resisting the urge to pull him closer, but also unable to push him away. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out. “Tony, help.”

Racetrack takes a cautious step forward.

“Okay, Jack, how about we just⁠—” Racetrack puts his hand on Jack’s arm, trying to coax him into letting go, and Davey fucking growls, his lip curling back in a full-on snarl, an unmistakable declaration of back the fuck off, which is possibly the hottest thing Jack’s ever seen in his life. 

“Or not!” Race yelps, quickly backing away, both hands raised in surrender. “Not is fine too, holy shit.”

“Fuck, Race, I’m so sorry,” Davey says, groaning in embarrassment, head falling against Jack’s chest. “I didn’t mean to⁠— What is wrong with me?”

“You’re in heat,” Race says, like that isn’t obvious at this point. “Your instincts are takin’ over.”

“But it’s never…” Davey struggles to find the words, starting to succumb to the heat haze once again. “It’s never like this.”

Race inches forward once again, this time moving towards Davey; Davey stiffens at his approach but manages to keep his head, standing stock still in the circle of Jack’s arms.

“Let go of Jack, Davey,” Race murmurs, tugging lightly at the bottom of Davey’s vest. Davey’s hands fist even tighter in the fabric of Jack’s shirt, a low whine building steadily somewhere in the back of his throat. It takes everything Jack has not to react to the sound of it, to keep his grip open and loose instead of pulling Davey in tight like every fiber of his being is screaming at him to. “You gotta let him go.” 

Davey trembles, his scent souring with distress, and that’s even worse somehow⁠—like a shot straight to the heart. Jack clenches his jaw, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he doesn’t move.

Racetrack says, “Davey, let go.”

There’s an infinitely long pause. Then, with a pained whimper, Davey’s hands drop back to his sides. Jack forces himself take a step back, and then another, and then another⁠—until Davey is safely out of arm’s reach⁠.

“Take him home,” Jack pants out, because if he doesn’t say it now he’s not sure he’ll be able to get the words out at all. It feels like someone’s sent an electric current up his spine⁠, liquid fire spreading through his veins: scorchingly hot and and almost painfully strong. “Racetrack, get him home.”

Racetrack cups a hand around Davey’s elbow, helping him lean against a stack of shipping pallets. Then he looks back over at Jack.

“Go get Les,” Race instructs him. “Tell him what’s going on. Then swing by West Avenue and find Specs, he should be closest, and send him this way.”

“Okay,” Jack says, but he doesn’t move. He’s still staring at Davey, at the furrow between his brow and the tense line of his shoulders, at the sweat beading across his forehead and unhappy set of his mouth. Every inch of him is screaming hurtdangerprotecthelpfix to Jack frazzled instincts.

Jack wants to have him, hold him, comfort him, protect him. He needs to protect him, needs to with a sort of all-encompassing intensity that makes his fucking bones ache. Just the thought of leaving him feels like tearing his own heart out of his chest.

“Jack,” Racetrack insists. “You need to go, okay? You being here is only gonna make it worse.”

But the first thing he needs protection from is Jack, and that understanding is what finally gives Jack the strength to stagger away, to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from Davey. 

“Jack?” Davey whimpers, and Jack can’t. He can’t. He can’t leave him, he can’t leave him here, Davey needs him, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. “Jack.”

But somehow, Jack does.

00000

Jack is absolutely impossible to live with for the next couple of days, and even though he knows it, recognizes that he’s stalking around the Lodging House like a particularly pissed off bear, he can’t make himself stop.

All he can think about is Davey⁠: the look on his face, the bright blue of his eyes, the way he felt in Jack’s arms, and that unforgettable scent. 

Jack’s not an idiot, he knows what Davey’s doing right now⁠. Imagines the long expanse of flushed, sweaty skin, spread deliciously across his bed. Eyes closed and lips parted, head thrown back. Muscles flexing, fingers clenching, hips working.

Jack presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, like that might stop the endless stream of images flickering through his mind, trying to will away his erection before it can fully form because if he has to jack it any more today his dick might actually fall off.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Davey like this. It’s rude and demeaning and perverted all kinds of other adjectives that basically add up to this: Davey is his best friend and Jack is a fucking asshole, no better than any other knot-head alpha on the street, completely losing control of himself like some sort of animal. 

He doesn’t have any claim to Davey, he doesn’t⁠—not that his heart or his instincts are willing to accept the truth of that fact. Davey deserves better, deserves to be treated with all the respect and care in the world, deserves someone that will be able to keep up with that sharp mind and sharper tongue, someone that can give him stability and comfort and a good life.

Someone better than Jack.

But even just thinking about Davey with some hypothetical somebody sets Jack’s teeth on edge, makes his eyes flash red and a growl rumble through his chest. He throws himself back against the rooftop with a groan, angry and embarrassed and aroused and guilty. God—fucking⁠—damn it.

There’s a knock on the rooftop door, and then Crutchie’s head peeks out.

“Hey, Jack,” he says, voice gentle the way all of the Newsies’ voices have been the last couple of days, Jack’s fluctuating scent putting everyone on edge. Another wave of guilt rises up in him but Jack works to choke it back, trying not to let anything seep out. No one else should have to deal with Jack’s issues. “Uh, don’t freak out, but Sarah’s downstairs. She says she needs to talk to you, and it sounds like it’s serious.”

Jack jolts to his feet, heart in his throat. Because he knows, he knows, that this is about Davey.

Something’s wrong, a voice whispers in Jack’s ear, wronghurthelpwherefix. 

Someone, maybe Racer or Finch, has lead Sarah to the side room just off the main hall. She smells agitated, her long hair thrown up in a messy bun and her nails bitten down to the quick, fiddling with a loose string on her blouse. She looks up when she hears them enter and her eyes are shaded dark with worry; Jack’s heart kicks into double time.

“I’ll give you the room,” Crutchie says, going to leave.

“Actually, Crutchie,” Sarah interjects, biting her lip. “Would you mind staying? I think that would probably be for the best.”

Jack goes stiff. He doesn’t like the implications of that request⁠—that whatever she’s about to tell him is so bad that she thinks he’ll need Crutchie for support.

“Jack,” Crutchie says, rubbing at his nose. “At least let her talk before you start freakin’ out.”

Jack nods and makes a concerted effort to tamp down his scent, knowing that the crazy, distressed alpha pheromones he’s putting out aren’t pleasant for anyone. 

He’ll let Sarah talk. He’ll be calm. It’ll be okay.

“What’s wrong?” Jack blurts out. “What’s⁠— Is it Davey? Is he okay?”

“He’s… not doing great,” Sarah quietly admits, and a spike of fear hits Jack so strongly that he goes dizzy with it.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“This heat hit him really hard,” Sarah says, and there’s a tiniest hint of a tremor in her voice, which for Sarah might as well be a wave of tears. “I’ve never seen him like this. He can’t sleep, can’t keep any food or water down, and he’s burning hot and nothing we try can get the fever to break. We asked the nurse who lives downstairs to come look at him, and she thinks it’s the result of some kind of incomplete scent bond⁠—that Davey’s body thinks he has an alpha, has found his mate, and the heat won’t be soothed without them.”

“Okay,” Jack says, raking a hand through his hair, feeling a little like he might shake out of his skin. “Okay, well, does Davey know who he’s scent bonded to? A scent bond only happens ‘cause of a courtship, right? So he must know who it is.”

Jack’s stomach churns. He can’t imagine how he’s missed the signs of a courtship, or why Davey wouldn’t have told him about it. 

Unless, Jack realizes, heart sinking, unless he figured it out. Unless he found out about Jack’s feelings and chose not to tell him about his suitor. About the person he actually wants. The person he wants to mat⁠—

Jack staggers to the nearest wall and leans against it. “Who is it?” he grits out. “Who…?”

Sarah and Crutchie exchange a glance, one full of shared understanding. Jack has a brief moment of betrayal, outraged that Crutchie knows who Davey’s been courting with too, that maybe it’s some kind of shared secret that everyone else knows about but Jack⁠—

“It’s you,” Sarah says. “Jack, it’s you.”

“What?” Jack breathes.

“It’s you,” Sarah repeats. “Of course it’s you. Jack, who else would it be?”

Jack blinks, then blinks again. He’s hearing her words but it’s like he can’t internalize what she’s saying, the information hitting his ears, then bouncing away without sticking.

“....Me?”

“Yes,” Sarah says, the tone of her voice starting to edge towards exasperated. “Davey’s instincts think you’re his mate, that’s why his heat flared up early when he was with you and why it’s been so bad.”

But that’s impossible, Jack thinks, and he tells her as much. “We ain’t even courting, there can’t be a scent bond.”

“Maybe you haven’t said the words, ‘hey, can I court you?’” Sarah disagrees, shaking her head. “But you’ve definitely been treating him like he’s an omega you’re courting.”

Jack stares at her. Sarah heaves a massive sigh.

“Jack, the two of you are so mated it’s disgusting,” she informs him. “You practically live in each other’s pockets, scenting each other, sharing food and clothes, super protective and possessive of each other. The only surprising part about all this is that you’re not mated already.”

“You look at Davey like he’s the center of your world, Jack,” Crutchie chimes in. “He’s the only one that’s always able to calm you down, the only one that’s always allowed into your space. We’ve all been waiting for you to get together for ages.”

Jack’s thoughts whirl and whirl. 

“Okay, fine,” he eventually says, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s no big secret that I’m in love with Davey, but are you sure I’m the one he’s scent bonded to? Just ‘cause I want him doesn’t mean he wants me back⁠⁠—maybe he’s got some kinda private courtship thing goin’ on that he jus’ hasn’t told us about⁠⁠.”

“It’s you,” Sarah says flatly.

“Okay, then are ya sure that it’s a mating thing?” Jack asks. “Because yeah, I’m enough of an lovestruck idiot that I’ll buy that I was accidentally courting Davey⁠—” He can feel the back of his neck heating up in mortification even as he says it. “—but are you sure Davey actually wants this, that it ain’t just his heat talking? Maybe he didn’t mean to… reciprocate or whatever, and the scent bond was an accident. Maybe he don’t actually want me⁠—”

Sarah reaches out and slaps him over the head. “Ow, Sarah, what⁠—?”

“Stupid, overprotective alphas,” she says with a scoff. “Always thinking they know best. Davey’s asking for you, okay? He wants you. If you’re not ready to take the next step, not brave enough to admit how you feel then, fine, whatever, but at least have the guts to come out and say it instead of pretending like Davey doesn’t know what he wants just because he’s in heat⁠—”

“Wait,” Jack interrupts, dumbfounded, because there’s no way he just heard Sarah say what he thinks she said. “He actually said he wanted me? He asked for me, specifically?”

“Davey’s in love with you,” Sarah says, with the strong implication of ‘you goddamn moron’ underneath. “Of course he asked for you.”

The ground shifts and spins beneath Jack’s feet. Oh.

Sarah seems to take Jack’s stunned silence for hesitation. 

“Look, if you’re really that against it⁠—if it’s making you uncomfortable⁠—then you don’t have to help,” she says, starting to worry the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “But, the nurse told us that if the alpha he’s bonded to can’t help him, then the only other option is to take him to a heat clinic.”

Jack’s vision blurs red. He must lose a few seconds because the next thing he’s aware of is Sarah’s furrowed brow, her eyes darting worriedly between Jack and Crutchie, who’s startled away. Jack doesn’t have to look at him to know that Crutchie has covered his nose and mouth with his hand in a futile attempt to block out Jack’s scent, which has gone absolutely acrid in response to this statement.

Sarah’s nose wrinkles, and then she sneezes twice in quick succession. “I’m guessing you’d rather not let that happen?” she delicately asks.

“No,” Jack says, his voice rumbling somewhere low in his chest. “No, not if he’s… Not if he really…” He stares at Sarah again, expression hard. “You swear this is what he asked for?” he demands. “You’re sure he wants me?”

“I’m sure,” Sarah says, gently, like she knows how important it is for Jack to hear it. “Jack, he’s been asking for you since his heat started. He begged for me to come get you. I’m sure.”

Jack swallows, then lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.”

00000

“Wait here,” Sarah says. Jack blinks, then realizes that between one moment and the next they’ve made it all the way to the Jacobs’ building. “It’s just Mama and Davey upstairs, but I’ll tell them you’re here.”

Jack gives a jerky nod and Sarah disappears inside, returning some twenty minutes later with Mrs. Jacobs and a suitcase.

“How’s he doin’?’” Jack asks, skin tight with worry and anticipation.

Sarah shakes her head. “Not great,” she says. “It’s a good thing you came, I don’t think he could’ve handled much more of this.”

“Hello, Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, and she looks exhausted but her scent is tinged with relief. “Did Sarah tell you everything?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack says. “I⁠—”

Jack tenses, nostrils flaring, and he whips around just as a third person exits the Jacobs’ building. Jack manages to keep from growling at the unfamiliar person but only just barely, and it’s a good thing he does. Because this alpha is older, at least fifteen or twenty years older than Davey’s mother, and is so obviously not any kind of romantic competition that Jack feels more than a bit stupid for letting his senses get away from him.

As if she knows exactly what he’s thinking, the other Alpha lets out a dismissive snort, pinning him with a look that’s thoroughly unimpressed, and Jack feels something inside him stand at attention. She might not be competition, but Jack has no doubt that she could still lay him out on the concrete if she wanted to.

“This is the one?” she barks out.

“Yes, Mrs. Lansdon, this is Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs confirms with a nod. “He’s the boy Davey’s bonded to.”

“And what on Earth possessed you to court and scent bond with an omega, only to abandon him when he needs you most?” Mrs. Lansdon asks him, raising an eyebrow. 

Jack forces himself not to rise to this bait. “I didn’t know that’s what I was doin’,” he grits out, in a voice he hopes is at least approaching calm. “I didn’t realize what’d happened until just a while ago, when Sarah told me.”

“You’re saying you accidentally scent bonded to an omega?” Her tone of voice tells Jack exactly what she thinks of this idea. 

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…” Mrs. Lansdon turns back to Davey’s mother. “Esther, far be it from me it insert myself in all of this, but are you sure this is wise? It’s not too late to make an appointment with the heat clinic. I’ll escort you myself if that’s what you’re concerned about…” She trails off mid-sentence, both eyebrows shooting up high on her wrinkled forehead⁠—no doubt in response to the distressed, frantic alpha scent that’s rolling off of Jack in waves.

“No,” Jack chokes out, his whole body clenching up at the thought. “Not if Davey’s asking for me. Not if this is still what he wants.”

“I thought you said it was an accident?”

“It was, but⁠—” Jack pauses, struggling to articulate himself in the face of this unexpected scrutiny, his every instinct urging him to just shoulder his way up the stairs and find Davey. “—But that don’t mean this ain’t important to me, that Davey ain’t important to me. Because he is. He’s everythin’ to me.”

Mrs. Lansdon hits him with a shrewd, evaluating look, then her expression seems to soften ever so slightly.

“I suppose it’s not a crime to be young and foolish,” she concedes. “You aren’t the first alpha to have his instincts gallop off with his heart and you won’t be the last.” She turns back to Mrs. Jacobs and says, “Your boy will be perfectly safe, Esther, don’t you worry. All of the other tenants are betas, and if I see any strange alphas roaming around, chasing after a scent knot-first, I’ll shoot them.” 

She says all of this very mildly, as if simply commenting on the weather. Sarah’s brow furrows and Mrs. Jacobs gives a nervous smile, like neither are sure if this is a joke or not, but Jack is under no such delusions. Mrs. Lansdon is utterly serious.

“Thank you,” Jack says, truly meaning it. 

Mrs. Lansdon looks at him again, and that judgmental exterior thaws out even further. “Well, you just get on up there and take care of your omega,” she says gruffly. “It won’t do to keep him waiting. Let us sort out all the rest of it.”

“I will,” he promises, to Mrs. Lansdon, to Mrs. Jacobs, to Sarah, and to himself. “I’ll take care of him.”

“There’s bread and turkey in the kitchen for sandwiches,” Sarah tells him. “Plus a bag of apples and a good supply of water. We just did laundry, so there are plenty of linens and clean clothes in the wardrobe.”

“Make sure you keep him hydrated,” Mrs. Jacobs says, hefting her purse more securely over her shoulder. “And see if you can get him to eat something. We’re staying just up the road with another family from our synagogue, I left the number for you in case there’s an emergency.”

“Just follow your instincts and you’ll be fine,” Mrs. Lansdon advises. 

“Oh, and Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, just before he goes to head inside, her expression serious. “There’s a package of alpha sheathes on the kitchen table. I expect you to use them.”

Jack feels his face turn red. “Right,” he squeaks out. “Right, of course. Understood, ma’am.”

He hurries inside, rushing up the stairs two and three at a time.

Jack can smell Davey the moment he reaches the floor for his apartment, a hint of sweetness in the air that makes Jack’s mouth water before he even gets the front door open. He finds the sheathes right where Mrs. Jacobs said he would, and though he’s mortified at the thought of her or Davey’s father going out and buying them, he’s also grateful for their foresight. A pregnancy is the last thing either Jack or Davey needs.

The further he walks into the apartment, the stronger that incredible scent becomes. It’s already doing things to him⁠—making his brain cloudy and his heart race, his dick starting to strain against the front of his pants⁠—growing stronger and stronger until all Jack can smell is Davey.

He pauses just outside of Davey’s bedroom, grasping the doorknob in unsteady hands; that spiced-sugar-citrus smell is so heavy in the air that if feels like it’s coating the inside of his mouth. He pushes open the door.

Jack’s eyes go wide, his brain skidding to a screeching halt. The sheathes fall from his suddenly slackened grip, hitting the floor and bouncing away, but that’s not important right now. Nothing’s more important than what’s in front of him.

Davey is draped across his bed, gloriously naked with a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, and the sight and smell of him is like nothing Jack’s ever dreamed. His hair, usually combed neatly across his forehead, is sticking up in every direction and his eyes are glassy with fevered desire. His hips are moving in tight, tiny circles, but he’s rocking into open air⁠—not an active attempt to get off, but like he just can’t help himself⁠—and his chest is heaving, all that bare skin flushed and rosy from his heat. 

He tips his head back, giving Jack an unobstructed view of the long, lovely line of his unmarked throat, then turns to face him. As their eyes meet something in Jack’s chest stills and centers, some baser instinct prowling in the back of his mind whispering, ‘Oh. Oh, that’s mine.’

“Jack,” Davey moans, and the sound of it is like a siren’s call. Jack’s stripped off his shirt and vest before he realizes that he’s moved. “Jack.”

“Jesus Christ, Davey,” Jack growls, fumbling for his fly, stepping out of his pants as he moves closer. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

“Where have you been?” Davey demands, nonsensically, and Jack’s just found out about all this, came almost immediately once he understood what was going on, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s wondering the same thing. Where has he been?

“I’m here, now, sweetheart,” Jack says, climbing onto the bed and settling between Davey’s legs, right where he’s supposed to be. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Jack runs a soothing hand along Davey’s stomach and hips, then spreads his cheeks nice and wide, uncovering the perfect, rosy furl of Davey’s hole. He’s slick with need, all glossy and pink, but nowhere near as stretched as Jack had expected him to be after nearly two days of heat.

“Haven’t you been…?” Jack asks as he runs a finger through the delicious mess of slick glistening around Davey’s entrance, because he can’t imagine Davey getting to this point⁠—all strung out and panting and aching with it⁠—and not doing anything to quell the fire.

But Davey shakes his head. “I tried at first…” he whines, unspeakably frustrated, canting his hips up into Jack’s touch and letting his thighs fall open that much more, beckoning Jack to explore further. “But it wasn’t helping, it wasn’t ever enough, and that was worse than not touching myself at all.”

Jack nips possessively at Davey’s inner thigh, watching the skin there bloom red under his ministrations, then lowers himself down, pressing his nose right to where that intoxicating scent is strongest. He lingers there for a moment, just basking in the heady scent of Davey, and perfect, and mine, mine, mine, then licks him right where he’s wettest, lapping up every last drop of that thick, honey-sweetness. It’s absolutely incredible⁠—the taste of him is better than anything Jack could’ve ever imagined⁠—and he can’t help but groan, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey gasps, and his hands go tight in Jack’s hair, pulling him closer. Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, pressing his tongue deep inside, working him open with every swirl and flick and thrust. Davey is hot, searingly hot under his hands and on his lips, and Jack understands why the Jacobs’ were so worried, because there’s no way this is a regular heat. But the thought slips away as quickly as it arrived because this is everything, this is where Jack belongs⁠—eating Davey out until he’s trembling and desperate for it, just as wet from Jack’s tongue as he is from his slick.

“Jack,” Davey begs, nails digging into Jack’s scalp. “Jackie, please, I need more.”

“You’re not ready yet,” Jack says. He pulls off Davey’s hole just enough so that he can slide two fingers into him, and Davey cries out, a throaty, guttural noise that sends a bolt of want shooting straight to Jack’s dick.

“Jackie⁠—”

“I said, you’re not ready yet,” Jack growls, adding another finger and crooking them up, and Davey moans, back arching up off the bed. “You gotta trust me, sweetheart. You gotta let me help you.”

Davey quivers beneath his hands. “I can’t,” he sobs. “It’s not enough⁠— I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, cielito,” Jack murmurs, working his fingers even deeper. Davey tears at his sheets, scrabbling for some kind of anchor, then one of his hands comes up to wrap around his cock, jacking it hard and fast in his fist. “That’s it, Dave, c’mon. I wanna see you. I wanna watch you come on my fingers.”

“Jack,” Davey mewls, and he’s soaking, dripping all over Jack’s hand, pretty and perfect and so, so close. “Jack, I need… I want… Jack.”

“Give it up for me, David,” Jack commands. He twists his hand, scissors his fingers, finds that little spot inside and presses it hard, over and over again. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

Davey’s voice breaks on a scream, his body locking up and his muscles clamping down around Jack’s fingers like a vice. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure, come striping his belly as he twitches in Jack’s arms, and it’s like something reaches into Jack’s chest and pulls, shifting the landscape of his heart around until Jack can barely breathe around the discovery of Davey, Davey, always Davey that ripples through him in time with his pulse.

“God, Davey, you are fucking gorgeous like this,” Jack says, eyes raking greedily over Davey’s form. “Tan bonito, tan guapo, y es todo para mi.” 

Jack leans over him, biting and kissing at every bit of skin he can get at as he works his way up the long lines of Davey’s body. Davey’s even prettier in this moment just after: that edge of burning desire bordering on pain soothed away, leaving only sweet satisfaction behind… and with a plea for more simmering just underneath. Jack can’t do anything except oblige.

“Jack,” Davey moans when Jack’s lips find one of his nipples, his hands threading through Jack’s hair once again. “Oh my… mnh.”

“Tell me what you need, Davey,” Jack rasps against that fever-hot skin, moving over to give the other nipple the same attention, swirling his tongue around it until it pebbles in his mouth. “Let me give you what you need.”

“You, Jackie,” Davey says, arching up into Jack’s mouth with a breathy sigh, his knees coming up to bracket Jack’s hips. “Just you. Always you.”

“No,” Jack says, pulling away and bracing himself with his hands on either side of Davey’s head, forcing Davey to hold his gaze. “Tell me, David. I need you to tell me.”

Davey looks utterly debauched lying underneath him, mouth open and panting, pupils blown wide and eyelashes fluttering against the rosy flush of his cheekbones, but his voice is steady and serious when he says, “I need you, Jackie. I need you to fuck me, I need your knot. Please, alpha.”

Jack’s whole body shudders at these words, his heartbeat a deafening roar in his ears. “You have me,” he breathes. “I’ll give it to you, you’ll have me, omega.” Then he closes that whisper of space between them and kisses him.

It’s hot and deep and a little frantic. Davey groans, his lips parting eagerly to his own, and then Jack’s licking into his mouth, needing to lay claim to every inch of him. Because Davey is his, that lush mouth and those bright eyes are Jack’s, those soft little keens of pleasure and the spike of sugar sweetness in the air are all for Jack, only for Jack. He takes Davey’s lower lip between his teeth and sucks, swallows down Davey’s answering moan and keeps on kissing him, starving for more of him, and it’s only then that Jack realizes that he’s growling, actually growling into Davey’s mouth, the vibrations rumbling through the both of them from where they’re pressed together. 

Davey looks stunned, just absolutely amazed and overwhelmed, and he reaches up with trembling hands to cup around either side of Jack’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over Jack’s cheekbones. “Jack?” he asks, voice hushed with reverence. 

“I know, Davey,” Jack replies, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as he tries to regain some semblance of control. “I’m right there with you.”

Because he’d understood the explanation, he’d known, distantly, what a scent bond meant, but that’s nothing compared to this⁠—this feeling of perfectly matched pieces finally slotting into place, of home and right and mate. Of yours and mine, and mine, but yours.

Davey squirms in Jack’s hold, his eyes starting to smolder and his scent surging with a fresh wave of arousal, and Jack latches onto it, uses it to ground himself. Davey needs him, that’s what matters. Everything else can wait. 

Jack kisses him again, then leans over to grab a sheath from where he dropped them on the floor, rolling it on with shaky hands. 

“This still what you want?” Jack asks.

“Yes, but⁠,” Davey bites his lip, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I want⁠ to⁠... Can we⁠...?”

Davey flips over onto his stomach, lifts up on his hands and knees, and presents, just like that. Jack inhales sharply, feeling his eyes bleed red. 

He’s only human. And Davey is everything.

Jack’s instincts take over. He kneels behind Davey, curls his hands around his hips and tilts his pelvis up, gets a perfect view of shiny, slick-covered thighs and a dripping wet hole, then lines himself up and pushes in, pressing forward until his hips are seated right against Davey’s ass.

Hot, scorchingly hot, hot enough to burn Jack from the inside out, and devastatingly tight. Jack can’t breathe, can’t think, his spine stiff as he fights against the urge to just take and take and take. Davey makes a noise that’s all startled pleasure, spreads his knees even wider, then tries to fuck himself on Jack’s dick, desperate and clumsy with it. Jack tightens his grip on Davey’s hips⁠—an unspoken command to settle, to let Jack lead⁠—and then takes over, fucking into him in long, powerful strokes.

It’s a rush of sensations. Jack feels completely in control and two seconds from losing it, pulled out to sea by the rip current of Davey, of how Davey feels, a tight silken paradise clenching around him, of how he sounds, the little gasps and grunts that tear out of his throat punctuated by the slap of skin against skin, of how Davey smells, that heady sweetness tempered by Jack’s own scent blending and melding with it.

Jack grinds in deep, pulls out slow, then picks up the pace, driven by some primal need to claim, to wreck Davey like no one ever has before, to possess everything Davey can give him and then give himself right back in return, until they’re so tangled together that they can’t be torn apart. Mine, but yours.

Davey is fucking gorgeous beneath Jack’s hands, head hanging down and his back bowed in beautiful submission, clutching at the sheets as he mewls and sobs. Jack presses a hand to the nape of his neck, then works an arm underneath him and hauls him upright so that they’re pressed together, back to chest, and the change in angle makes them both cry out. 

“Fuck, Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Oh, god, right there.”

It’s so good and yet not enough. Jack can feel his knot starting to swell, catching on Davey’s rim each time he pulls out, and the hot, wet sound of it is driving the possessive, alpha side of him absolutely crazy. He’s distantly aware of mouthing at Davey’s throat, lapping up the salt and sugar there and murmuring a stream of praise against his pulse: some in English, some in Spanish, and some that just comes out as indistinct growls, their meaning lost to a rush of primal instinct. 

Because Davey might be the one in heat but Jack feels like he’s about to shatter right along with him, every thrust of his hips dragging him closer and closer to his breaking point. It’s push and pull, give and take, each brush of skin and wisp of breath shared between them stitching them together: two halves of a whole. That’s what they are now, or maybe that’s what they’ve always been, and now that Jack’s found it, now that he’s figured it out, there’s no chance in hell he’s letting it go. Yours and mine and ours.

Jack’s not going to last much longer, his knot starting to fill out in earnest. From the sounds he’s making, Davey can’t be far behind. Jack presses in hard, then rolls his hips into his next several thrusts, trying to give Davey that last push over the edge. His hand slides down to sit low on Davey’s stomach, as if he could somehow pull him closer, somehow take him deeper, and he works a mark into the space behind Davey’s ear, thrilling in the wrecked little moan that leaves his lips as Jack stakes his claim.

Jack nips and bites his way down Davey’s throat, setting his teeth right against that perfect spot where Davey’s neck meets his shoulder, and Davey lets out a noise of pure want and tilts his head to the side, baring even more of his throat to him.

“Alpha,” Davey begs. “Yes, Jack, please, bite me, Alpha, bite me, pleaseohfuckyes⁠—”

It’s with the last fraying thread of his control that Jack manages not to follow through with this request.

“David,” he grits out, fingers digging into Davey’s hips to the point that he has to be leaving bruises. “Dave, are you sure? You gotta be sure, sweetheart, ‘cause we can’t come back from this.”

“We already can’t come back from this,” Davey says, and it’s true. They’re already changed. “I want this, Jackie, please. Please.”

“Mine,” Jack growls, grinding in one last time as his knot fully pops. “My omega. Mine.” He places one last kiss to Davey’s neck, then bites down, hard, and comes.

Davey locks down around him like a vice, his body jerking and twitching as he rides out his own orgasm, panting through the sharp pleasure-pain of Jack’s teeth breaking skin. It feels like nothing else, this moment of togetherness and completion⁠—like he’s found a piece of himself that he hadn’t realized was missing until it fit itself neatly back into place. 

Davey. Mate. Forever.

When Jack comes back to himself, it’s like floating back into his body after the most incredible dream. There’s the decadent warmth of skin pressed all along his front, the steady thump of Davey’s heartbeat against his chest, the comforting weight of him in Jack’s arms. He shifts them around so they can lay on their sides, careful to keep from jostling Davey too much with the motion, hands settling securely around his waist. He swipes his tongue along the rapidly healing mating mark, then tucks his nose into the space behind Davey’s ear and inhales, something settling smugly in his chest when all he scents is deep satisfaction and a blossom of happiness⁠—no undercurrent of pain or discomfort. 

He feels Davey curl back into him with a quiet, contented noise, limbs heavy with exhaustion and relief. Jack opens his mouth to ask him how he feels, if he needs anything, if he’s okay. What he actually says is, in a raspy whisper right next to Davey’s ear, “I love you.”

Davey shivers. He lifts one of Jack’s hand up and kisses his palm, then weaves their fingers together, their hands clasped right over Davey’s heart. 

He says “I know you do, Jackie. You wouldn’t’ve come if you didn’t.” Another kiss, this one to Jack’s knuckles. “I love you, too.”

“You’re mine now,” Jack says, half amazement, half promise, drawing Davey more tightly against the curve of his body. “All mine.”

Jack feels more than hears Davey’s answering smile. 

“Oh, Jackie, love,” he says tenderly, perfectly relaxed in Jack’s embrace. “I was already yours.”

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.3]

Something was irrevocably different with Remington; Emerson picked it off right away. On an early Tuesday afternoon, with the air thick and humid and the sun beating down like a plague (no pun intended), Remington was fussing over himself more than usual. He had changed out of four or five different outfits, playing with his hair, and was it appropriate for him to wear makeup? Eva hadn't seen him with it on, yet. No, it was probably best to keep it casual for now. Then again, he had a fantastic highlight that worked absolute magic under the sun...

It was around eleven thirty when Remington finally came down, dressed down but still presentable in a simple pair of ripped skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Emerson and Shy were sat on the couch as they watched Netflix, Pepper situated between them. Remington stopped short when he saw the pair cuddled up on the couch, he smiled deviously.

"Eugh! You guys are so flippin' cute it's gross!" he gushed, putting on his diva voice.

Shy chuckled softly, "Hi Rem,"

Emerson's attention diverted to his older brother, intrigued to see him all ready to go out somewhere.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Coffee with Eva," Remington replied simply.

"The neighbour with the cat?" Shy said.

"Yeah," Remington nodded, "Emerson tell you she gave us a loaf of bread last week?"

"He did," she smiled, "Poor thing, I felt for her. She looked so flustered at the pool,"

"Well, moving is a bitch already. Throw in Covid 19 and you got a real thorn in the ass," Emerson said, then turning back to his brother, "You gonna' be social distancing?"

"We're going to drink our coffee and walk around in the park," Remington replied, "She works from home anyway,"

"So, who asked who for the coffee?" Emerson asked.

Remington shrugged, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his hair again, "She brought up how she hasn't had a chance to get around the neighbourhood, so I offered, she accepted. She has our vinyl too,"

"Which one?" Emerson asked.

"Boom Boom Room,"

"Side A or B?"

"A,"

"I'd approve either way,"

Shy couldn't help but subconsciouly squeeze Emerson's arm, a glimmer of excitement bursting behind her eyes, "So, she's a fan, too?"

"Took her a minute to figure it out. Didn't even bring up Em or Seb, so clearly she pays more attention to me," the blonde smirked.

Emerson glowered at his brother, "Yeah, yeah, go for your cup of fuck-off-ee," he grumbled.

Across the street, with her room strewn in discarded clothes that just didn't make the cut, Eva finally felt confident standing in her denim skirt and black tee. On any other day she'd have paired the ensemble with her pleather jacket, but it was too damn hot out. Even with the window letting in a cool breeze, the air was uncomfortably humid. What did she expect when moving from the Emerald City to Los Angeles?

Eva made sure to close and latch the window shut before she left, not eager for Pluto to go off on another reign of terror. Stopping to grab a fresh face mask, her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her purse. She figured it might have been Remington sending her a text, but the screen flashed to the Blocked Caller ID. Eva rolled her eyes and denied the call.

Stepping out into the humidity, Eva waved her hand over her face as she stepped out of the complex courtyard, just at the same time Remington was locking the door to his house. As soon as she caught his eye, he was all smiles.

She was glad to see him; a little relieved, even. He looked cool, cool enough to appear on some grungy magazine cover. All he needed to complete the look was a cigarette and maybe a skateboard, too. The messy blonde hair, the glimmer in his eyes brought back the warmth she associated with his presence and as she came to meet him at his car, his spicy cologne danced up her nose and imprinted itself in her olfactory memory.

Remington had never been more wary of how his hands shook, his left hand he stuffed into his jean pocket and the right he gripped his car keys with a vice-esque grip. He found himself mesmerized briefly by the fit of her skirt, her black t-shirt tucked in smoothly but not too tight to over expose her figure, but just enough to give Remington an idea. Her short brown hair fell delicately over her face, one side pushed back behind her ears and exposing her stormy blue eyes to the sunshine. She was the embodiment of innocence and grunge wrapped into a perfect five-foot-six package.

"Glad you didn't stand me up," he grinned.

"Well, I kind of happen to live right over there," she drawled, pointing to her balcony, "It'd be kind of awkward and hard to hide if I tried,"

"You look really nice," he nodded after a brief moment.

"So do you," she agreed with confidence, "Where we off to?"

There was a forested park not far from where they lived. Despite the pandemic, the fields were filled with older kids playing games of soccer and basketball, there were vendors out trying to sell their ice cream, a couple girls were scattered across the grass and sunbathing. It almost all seemed so normal, if not for the fact that the kid's jungle gym had been fenced off so no child could climb upon it.

The pair walked side-by-side, him with his iced black coffee and her with a green tea frapp -- no whipping cream. The gravel path they walked was shaded by a canopy of lush green trees, providing some relief from the hammering heat. Remington kept his gaze locked on her, worried to miss a moment where she'd crack a smile or briefly run her tongue over her lips. Her fingers appeared so dainty yet he could spot the small calluses at the middle joint of her thumb, and some paper cuts on her middle and index fingers.

"So, how does a ghostwriter get hired?" Remington asked, "Do you just openly advertise 'hey! If you're a lazy author, come hire me'?"

"No," Eva shook her head with a giggle, "I used to write articles for the newsletter at my college, and then a friend of mine forwarded me an email about a client who was looking for a ghostwriter. I didn't know much about it but the money was pretty good. It was a grant application for requesting financial aid for survivors of residential schools,"

"Sounds depressing," Remington said.

"It was pretty heavy shit," Eva admitted, "But, I did get fifteen-hundred for a six page application. Well worth it, I'd say,"

Remington blew an impressed whistle, "So you make pretty good money off of this?"

"Let's just say my student debt has decreased significantly since I took up the profession," and she took a brief sip of her drink.

"You ever publish anything under your own name?" he asked, "Eva Kuznetsov is a cute pen name. Evelina sounds more mature, though..."

Eva shrugged, "I think about it sometimes... but it's just easier to write under someone else's name and let them have all the glory. Say, if they happen to do something stupid to forever tarnish their career, that won't come back to bite me in the ass,"

Remington smirked, "Like a particular fantasy author who's made some pretty heavy comments concerning the trans community?"

"Let's not even talk about that, my heart still breaks when I think about it," Eva sighed, "To answer your question, however, if I got confident enough I may try to publish something in the future,"

"What else do you like to write?"

Eva opened her mouth but closed it quickly, pressing together her petunia pink lips as she visibly swallowed whatever words were about to pass through them. When she looked up at Remington again, his brown eyes dark like soaked coffee grinds that sent her into a caffeinated headrush. What would he think if she actually told him...

"I write poems, some short stories," she somewhat lied.

Remington's smile grew wider, mischief glimmering over his face like light beams reflecting over windchimes in a saturated dusk, "You hesitated just now," he spoke curiously, "What else do you write?"

Eva glanced down at the ground, a nervous giggle bubbling out and knocking the air out of her lungs, "Okay listen, don't judge me, it's just a hobby of mine,"

"Oh God!" Remington gasped, "Do you write porn?"

Eva laughed again, her pale cheeks flushing in red, "Well... I do happen write some naughty shit... in my fanfictions,"

Remington stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by her answer. He totally thought she would say something along the lines of erotic fiction on a platform like Literotica. For understandable reasons, he had some mixed emotions about fanfictions.

"What kind of fanfiction?" he asked, somewhat bordering on the third degree.

"... Um..." she glanced at him again, the smirk on his lips compelling more giggles to burst from hers. She pressed her hands together over her nose and mouth, and Remington laughed as well.

"Okay listen, I promise," he put his right hand over his chest, "I promise I will not judge you for whatever smut you write for whoever," he assured her.

"It's not... yeah, I guess it kind of is," Eva chuckled nervously, "I usually write for stuff like Criminal Minds, but more lately I've gotten into writing for Euphoria..." she trailed off, timid as she waited for his response.

"Alright, that's actually not bad," he nodded, "I'll be honest, you didn't strike me as somebody who write fanfics,"

Eva glanced timidly at her scuffed sneakers, kicking up pebbles and dust, "Are fanfic writers supposed to look a certain way?"

"I don't know, actually," he simpered.

"I don't tell a lot of people that I do it, mainly because their first impression is either 'what the fuck' or 'OMG we should collaborate' and I'm just like," she hung her head back, "Nooo!"

"You're more of a soloist then a team player, then?" he teased.

"Let's just say I tend to work better alone," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as though the comment should mean nothing. But Remington found it odd that Eva was out here all on her own, never brought up her friends or family. He didn't see many personal effects in her apartment, neither.

"Is that why you're out here by yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Well... don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't really seen you with anybody. You don't talk about your friends or your family,"

Eva shrugged again, "They're all back in Seattle. Besides, opportunity was drying up over there and I just wanted a fresh start," she said, "Besides, Pluto's my friend,"

"Well, that's a given," he replied, "Are your parents up in Seattle?"

"My dad is," she nodded, "I don't know what my mom's doing," Remington's silent was her cue to go on, "I um... we haven't really spoken, her and I,"

"You have a falling out?" he asked suddenly.

Eva glared down at the gravel again, "You can call it that. She's a pilot and she's always flying, and so you know, I never really got to see much of her growing up. And then, she suddenly shows up for my college graduation and expects us to be one big happy family, like she has it in her head that she can make up for all the birthdays and shit she's missed. And I just didn't know what to say to her. I don't know who she is, but she's my mom," she glanced up at Remington again, "And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this,"

Remington wasn't bothered by her unloading, it seemed as though Eva needed to get things off her chest more than she realized. Her smile was sardonic and her voice petty like a comedian on stage, putting on the brave 'I don't give a fuck anymore' face.

"I find sometimes it's easier to unload to new people then it is to your friends," he said, "What does your dad do?"

"Chem professor. Which is ironic because I seriously sucked at chemistry," she replied.

"Show me a kid who didn't struggle in chem, honestly," he said, "But do you get along with your dad?"

"For the most part," she chuckled, "He's still confused as to why I choose to write anonymously, but that's his problem. What do your parents do?"

Remington chewed on the inside of his cheek, "My mom's kind of like our manager. Does a lot of production and behind the scenes stuff. And I haven't seen my dad for nearly twenty years,"

Eva was silent for a moment, studying him. He spoke with a firm grin, yet still trying to shadow that flicker of sadness within his face.

"So we both have parental issues... that's nice to know," she put on a teasing grin, "Maybe that's why we make such good friends?"

Remington swallowed thickly, "So, you are indeed confirming we are friends?"

"I am," she smiled, "It'd be nice to have whatever few I can scrape up,"

"That fact that you also live across the street means that you're now stuck with me," Remington grinned with pride.

"True," Eva hummed appreciatively, taking another sip of her drink, "Somehow, I don't think I'll mind, though,"

When Remington drove her home she gave him a sweet and polite goodbye, a hug which made his confident exterior falter for a second long enough for her to witness it through the flush in his cheeks and his lack of response. His words tripped over the length of his tongue when he tried to flush out a proper goodbye and he felt his hands began to quiver again.

And when he went to open his door, he took one last glance. The small brunette turned at the same time and met his gaze, but he was too far away to hear her sharp inhale. And when he finally went inside he fall back against the door, staring into space with the biggest grin he'd had on since... well, he couldn't remember when he last felt so excited.