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rothpie · 17 hours ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part14

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: none (I guess)

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Witnessing Something You’ve Never Experienced

There are moments in life—like when someone’s laughter makes you laugh, when you share their joy, or when you cry together—that are impossible to put into words. Watching someone else’s happiness is priceless. Maybe that’s one of the best things about being human: feeling their happiness as if it were your own.

These were the simplest, purest emotions. And yet, when you saw Cleo and Pope smiling at each other, it was hard to keep your own happiness in check. It almost felt like it wasn’t their story, but yours. Like their vows added something to your life, too.

You’d never been married. In fact, you’d never even come close to it. But as you listened to Cleo and Pope exchange vows, for a moment, you forgot about that emptiness inside you. Standing barefoot on the moonlit beach, watching them hold hands, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

A gentle breeze mingled with the sound of waves breaking on the shore, creating a serene melody in the background. Standing on the sand, you realized how special this moment was. Everyone around you was smiling, even JJ.

He stood a little apart from the crowd, lazily swirling a beer bottle in his hand as he watched the ceremony. His trademark smirk was there, but something about him seemed softer. As if he was sharing in the happiness in his own way.

“You ready to head back?” JJ’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He had come up beside you, gesturing toward the lights at the edge of the beach with his beer bottle.

You weren’t in the best shape, to be honest.

You’d only known Cleo and Pope for four years—a long time, but not forever. You met them through JJ, yet your bond with them felt deeper than just friendship. Cleo, especially, felt like a sister to you. You loved them both and wanted to share in their happiness.

It had been years since you’d felt like this. Your attachment to alcohol had ended alongside everything with Liliana, or so you thought. But now, Liliana was weaned, and you’d found a rare moment to be on your own.

Cleo’s wedding wasn’t a grand affair; it was intimate, with close friends, family, and a few others. Your parents had even come. While they wished the same happiness for you, they also took Liliana with them when the reception started. It was their way of giving you a rare night of freedom.

It wasn’t lost on you that they were doing this for you. Liliana was your baby, but in their eyes, you were still theirs. It was one of the rare times you could just be. A night to be young again.

And JJ—well, you could tell your parents were secretly grateful for him too. They’d told him as much when they thought you weren’t listening. Your dad had even helped him out with work, quietly making sure JJ stayed on track.

You were thankful for this time. For a little while, it felt like the old days. Not reckless or wild, just... young.

And maybe you’d gone a little overboard. You’d been drinking and dancing all night. You weren’t sure how much, but it was enough to notice some concerned glances from people here and there.

Still, it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was tension in you that you hadn’t let out. You hadn’t told JJ that you’d seen Rafe earlier. You just wanted to forget. But seeing him—especially when you were with your daughter—was a heartbreak all its own.

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. You didn’t feel sharp enough to respond with words, yet somehow, you felt like a genius. “I miss my house,” you mumbled, kicking at the sand.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Which house?”

He grabbed your wrist gently, steadying you as you stumbled a bit. His touch moved to your hand, and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your gaze dropping to the sand.

“All of them,” you replied, your voice a little dreamy. Your answer made JJ laugh harder, the sound blending into the soft music playing in the background. His laughter—it suited everything, like it was a perfect fit for the moment, maybe even better than the music itself.

“All of them? How many houses you got, sweetheart?” he teased, keeping a steady eye on you as if ready to catch you if you fell.

“Two.” You held up two fingers to show him, wobbling slightly. JJ’s hand darted out to catch you by the arm while his other hand held yours firmly.

“Yep, that’s our sign to head out,” he said with a smirk. His hand slipped to your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you upright. Your bodies brushed against each other, and in your tipsy state, you didn’t have the energy to fight the thoughts that came next.

You couldn’t help but look at him. JJ was one of those people you just had to look at. Admire. Worship, even. Had he really been right in front of you this whole time? What a snack.

“So, one house is in Asheville,” he said, steering you toward your table to grab your bag. “Where’s the other one?”

“You and Liliana.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he froze, trying to process what you’d just said.

Then his gaze shifted, and he waved at Sarah and Pope, who were chatting nearby. He clearly chose to distract himself. It was just drunken rambling, right? No need to read into it.

He knew better than to press the issue. You were drunk. That was all there was to it.

And while you were utterly drunk, he was completely sober. He’d only had one beer, because if you were falling apart like this, someone had to stay grounded to take care of you. The trip home had to be safe. That was his job, and he’d always make sure of it.

You left the beach together, walking slowly. As the sand turned into a gravel path, the wind picked up, biting at your cheeks. JJ shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. Almost entirely leaning on him, you looked up with glassy eyes. “The stars look so beautiful, don’t they?” you asked, your voice carrying an unusual softness.

The house you’d rented wasn’t far. You had intentionally chosen a place close to the beach, for Liliana. When you arrived, JJ opened the door, turning to flash you a small smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. The wind’s going to make you sick,” he teased with a playful tone.

As you stepped inside, the happy scenes from the wedding were still vivid in your mind. Something felt different about tonight, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

JJ couldn’t believe you had made it all the way home. He was sure you’d pass out halfway through, but here you were, still standing—well, barely. He held you steady, watching as you stared at the house like you were seeing it for the first time. You smiled faintly as you spoke.

“I can’t believe how much you drank. I mean—I didn’t even know you could drink that much.”

He raised an eyebrow as you pursed your lips, clearly preparing a rebuttal. Despite your foggy brain, you still managed to respond. “I only had two shots,” you said confidently, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point. The attempt, however, was far from accurate.

JJ reached out to steady your hand, trying to refocus you. “Two shots and, what, a whole bottle of vodka?” he replied with a smirk.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly. JJ’s lips quirked into a grin as he listened to your laughter, his hand brushing against your back in a comforting way. He had watched you all night—dancing with him, going wild with Cleo, chatting with Sarah—and at every moment, a drink had been in your hand, always nearing empty.

“No!” you exclaimed, poking his chest with your finger as if trying to push him away. JJ didn’t budge an inch. Instead, when you stumbled back, he placed both hands on your waist to steady you.

“Alright, come here,” JJ said gently, his tone calm yet firm. He figured you needed to sit down before you hurt yourself. “Let’s get your shoes off before you end up face-first on the floor,” he added, a teasing lilt in his voice. He guided you back to lean against the wall.

He crouched down to untie your shoes quickly, his movements brisk but careful. It was obvious he was afraid you’d trip and hurt yourself. When he finished, he set your shoes by the door and stood up. His gaze immediately met yours. You had been watching him the entire time, tracking his every move.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and looked at him with a drunk, adoring smile. “Your eyes are blue,” you said in awe, studying his face as if it were the first time.

JJ raised his eyebrows, his lips parting slightly. He wanted to pull back and figure out if you were serious, but then he remembered how drunk you were. His lips twitched into an amused grin. “Wow. Five years of living together, and you’re just now noticing?” he teased.

You had no idea what you were doing. You felt like a fool, detached from any sense of self-control. Your thoughts were jumbled, and logic had left the building. You leaned in closer, your heavy-lidded eyes fixated on his face. “Your dimples… they’re really cute,” you whispered.

JJ took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. His heart raced, which annoyed him more than anything. He tried to pull away from your embrace, turning his head as he gently pried your arms off his neck. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” he muttered, letting your hands drop but still holding onto your wrists to keep you steady.

Suddenly, your breath hitched, and JJ’s attention snapped back to you. His expression shifted as he watched your face, now filled with a mix of worry and sadness. “I didn’t kiss Liliana,” you said in a mournful tone. “Before bed—I didn’t give her her goodnight kiss. I have to do it.”

JJ froze for a moment, trying to process your words. Liliana had been gone for hours, staying with her grandparents. She wasn’t even in the house, and there was no way you’d remember that right now. “Hey, hey. Liliana’s asleep, okay? You can’t kiss her now. You’ll wake her up,” he said soothingly, doing his best to calm you down. He didn’t dare remind you she wasn’t there; that would only lead to a meltdown.

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and sad. “But I needed to kiss her…”

JJ smiled faintly, brushing his hand over your hair. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You can kiss her in the morning. Let her sleep now.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him intently, your gaze almost too focused for how drunk you were. JJ frowned slightly, sensing the shift in your demeanor. There was something behind your eyes—something determined. It made his chest tighten with unease, a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re awake,” you said suddenly, as if realizing a profound truth.

JJ raised an eyebrow, looking at you in utter confusion. He took a step back. "Huh?"

Despite his retreat, you stepped closer. JJ swallowed hard as you approached, suddenly feeling trapped—vulnerable, even. Thoughts he had no business entertaining were creeping into his head. After all, it was you. You. His friend. His roommate. Yet, he could tell by your innocent tone that you meant nothing by it, and maybe that’s what he hated the most—because those innocent words were pulling his mind into places it didn’t belong.

“You’re awake, so I can kiss you,” you said, your voice far too nonchalant for the chaos it stirred in him.

JJ quickly stepped back, holding up a hand to stop you, his face turning away as if looking at you directly might break his resolve. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said, his tone soft but firm. You were drunk, and there was no way you meant what you were saying. If you were sober, those words wouldn’t have left your lips. No matter what you said, he was getting you to bed and leaving you there to sleep it off.

“Why? If I can’t kiss Lily, can’t I kiss you? You’re awake! Besides—this is just a goodnight kiss,” you insisted with a faint smile, your tone bordering on teasing.

Those words sparked something deep within JJ, something unfamiliar and unsettling. You two had never crossed this kind of line before. He’d never seen you look at him like that. And for the first time in years, you were drunk. He knew you hadn’t touched alcohol since Liliana. He also knew how much of your life had been shaped around her absence. Tonight, though, was different—you were drunk, and it was obvious your body wasn’t handling it well.

Even though he knew your words were soaked in alcohol, JJ couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how it made him feel.

JJ exhaled and shook his head, a defeated sort of gesture. He knew you meant nothing by it. There was no way this was anything more than innocent—it had to be. Besides, you were drunk. “Alright, fine. You can kiss me on the cheek,” he said, hoping to diffuse the moment, to get you to let this go. You were speaking without thinking, but his brain was taking your words to places he wished it wouldn’t.

JJ turned his head slightly, offering his cheek as he braced himself, standing as still as a statue. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you’d kissed each other on the cheek. It was a friendly gesture, a sign of affection. You were close—roommates raising a kid together. You spent almost every waking moment together. It was impossible not to care deeply for each other—as friends, of course.

But this? This felt different. Something about the situation was wrong. Whether it was the alcohol he’d had earlier, his own overthinking, or something entirely to do with you, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that, for the first time since you’d moved in, his mind was wandering into territory it had no business exploring. It was like he was just now realizing—or maybe finally acknowledging—that something had shifted between you two.

JJ couldn’t shake the unease in your presence tonight. He was used to being around you, practically glued to your side at all times. But this? Drunk you? That was a new one. Well, aside from those wild parties in your younger days, though even then, he’d usually seen you from a distance—usually surrounded by people. Or… with that fuck-face.

And now here you were, just the two of you, and it felt like uncharted waters. JJ had been drunk around you before, sure, but he could hold his liquor. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, it wasn’t new territory for him.

JJ glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you took another unsteady step closer. His hands were still on you, steadying you, keeping you upright. He felt his tension rise with every passing second, his stomach twisting in knots. All he wanted was to let you kiss his cheek, put you to bed, and be done with this excruciating moment.

Then he felt it—your fingers slipping from his grip, brushing against the stubble on his freshly-shaven cheek. The light, almost hesitant touch sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t even turn his head fully to face you; he just stood there, keeping his gaze flitting between you and the floor. Your touch was nearly enough to make him close his eyes and lean into it, but the reminder of your drunken state snapped him back to reality.

As you swayed closer, your weight pressed into him. JJ quickly steadied you, hearing the soft giggle escape your lips. “Oops,” you muttered, your laughter muffled against his chest.

He hated this—hated everything about it. Hated the situation, his thoughts, and most of all, how he was feeling. For the love of God, you were drunk, and the thoughts running through his mind were nothing short of sinful. How had he sunk so low as to let his brain spiral like this over a drunk woman—his best friend?

When your lips finally pressed against his cheek, JJ exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping to the floor as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. You’d kissed him on the cheek plenty of times before, but this? This felt different. This kiss lingered too long, carrying a weight he couldn’t explain—a spark that was entirely new and unsettling.

When your lips didn’t move away, JJ gently pulled back, clearing his throat as he steadied you by the waist. As he turned his head back toward you, his eyes briefly—and accidentally—flicked to your lips. He quickly dragged his gaze back up to your eyes, cursing himself internally. He shouldn’t have looked.

Clearing his throat again, JJ felt his face flush with heat. His prayers for composure were no match for the image of your lips—now cherry red, like they’d been painted that way. It wasn’t the lipstick you’d put on earlier. That had smudged and faded hours ago. Had your lips always been this red? Or was this something he was only now noticing?

The moment he realized his eyes had drifted back to your lips, it felt like death itself. He needed to stop this. It was weird—no, terrifying. You were drunk, and he was completely sober.

JJ took a deep breath and looked at your face. It was like you were staring straight into his soul, as though trying to pull everything he was out of him with just your gaze. "Okay," he muttered, trying to compose himself. He leaned on the thought that you'd forget this by morning, that you wouldn't remember any of it. If you were sober, he wouldn't dare let his eyes linger on your lips this long. "Well, since we’ve got the goodnight kiss out of the way—"

JJ stopped mid-sentence when he felt your hand on the collar of his shirt. The proximity was already absurd—he’d only been holding onto you to keep you from falling—but this? This was nowhere near what he’d expected. Your grip tightened, and before he knew it, you pulled him closer. His eyes widened, and in the next instant, he found himself on your lips.

His mind blanked. He didn’t even have the sense to close his eyes, as if keeping them open might confirm the absurdity of this moment. It couldn’t be real—it shouldn’t be real.

The shock rendered JJ motionless. This wasn’t a passionate kiss. You weren’t moving; you just held your lips against his. Yet JJ was sure he was about to have a heart attack.

Just the touch of your lips sent his heart into a frenzy. He was either dying or dreaming, and neither seemed plausible.

But it didn’t take long for reality to sink in. He pulled away quickly, stumbling back. His hand darted out to steady you, but he didn’t dare come any closer. He had no idea what to make of what had just happened—or how he was supposed to feel about it.

God, you were drunk. So drunk.

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his voice shook slightly. He’d messed up. This wasn’t supposed to happen—none of it. And yet he swore he could still feel your lips on his. He regretted this. You wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but he wouldn’t forget. “You’re going to regret this when I tell you in the morning.”

He wouldn’t tell you. He couldn’t. Losing your friendship wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. More than that, he couldn’t bear the thought of being cut out of your life—or Liliana’s. No, he couldn’t lose the family he’d found. Not over one night.

The words had only been meant to stop you, to get you to back off and let the moment end. He needed you to listen. Then he could put you to bed and get through the night without ever feeling your lips again, without remembering how soft they were or the feeling of having you this close.

Shit.

“I won’t,” you said stubbornly.

JJ squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his temple as if trying to think straight. You had no idea what you were doing. You were drunk. You’d regret kissing him. And if he ever saw that regret on your face, he didn’t know how he’d handle it.

Even though you were the one who kissed him, he still felt responsible for this. He shouldn’t have let you get this close. He should’ve gotten you to bed and let you sleep it off.

JJ took a steadying breath, searching your gaze for something—anything—that might reassure him. Maybe a glimmer of awareness, a sign you understood what was happening. But you were too far gone. You wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. And even if you could think straight, the kiss was wrong. And you saying you wouldn’t regret it? That was wrong too. “You will,” he said softly but firmly, his voice unwavering. He wrapped an arm around yours and started guiding you to your room. He just wanted to erase this moment from his memory.

Not because he didn’t like it—he couldn’t let himself think about that. Whether or not he liked it didn’t matter. You were drunk, and you’d crossed a line. Worse, he’d let you. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have kissed him or gotten this close. And that hurt more than anything else.

You went quiet as you leaned against his arm. The silence persisted as he helped you to the edge of the bed. Gently, JJ eased you down to sit. You stared at the floor, saying nothing. JJ hated the silence. This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, low and strained. “This is wrong... We’re friends.”

JJ knelt in front of you, meeting your eyes. He knew that. You knew that. But the weight of your actions was already heavy on him. You’d kissed him, and he was already regretting it. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how you’d feel when he told you in the morning. Would it change things between you? He wasn’t ready to lose you—or Liliana. He wanted a lifetime of memories with both of you, of raising her together and laughing through it all. He couldn’t lose that. “Yeah, we’re friends,” you murmured softly.

The silence stretched again, and then, out of nowhere, your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling, your quiet sobs breaking the stillness. JJ’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing you cry tore at something inside him. He didn’t even know why you were crying. Maybe a piece of your clarity had returned. He didn’t want that—not now.

Hesitating for only a moment, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You didn’t answer. JJ tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin as you shifted. When your nose brushed against his, JJ inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. His hands slid down your back, settling at your waist. You still didn’t speak, but your movements spoke volumes. JJ exhaled shakily, like he’d just lost a battle with himself. “You need to stop…” he whispered.

Suddenly, you lifted your head, and the space between you seemed to vanish. JJ’s breath hitched. He wanted this to stop—he needed it to. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if it didn’t. He’d never thought of you this way, never imagined having your lips on his. But now that it had happened, everything felt… right.

Except it wasn’t.

You were drunk, and this was so, so wrong.

But when your lips touched his again, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

When JJ felt your noses brush again, he let out a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes and meet yours. He wasn’t even sure who had started it this time. But when your lips met again, JJ felt... found. Like he’d discovered something he hadn’t known he was searching for. In that moment, he pushed everything else aside—all the rules, all the lines he wasn’t supposed to cross—and tightened his arms around your waist. Instead of pulling back, he gave in, even if just for a moment.

As your lips moved together in perfect rhythm, JJ could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. If he’d known it would feel this right, he wouldn’t have waited until now to kiss you. Hell, he’d have done it ages ago. When your hands gripped his collar and tugged him closer, JJ didn’t resist. Taking advantage of the way you shifted back on the bed, he let you guide him, following your lead as his hand instinctively slid to your neck.

The kiss broke momentarily as you both gasped for air, but before either of you could even think, your lips found each other again. JJ forgot everything—every rule, every fear, every reason this wasn’t supposed to happen. The only thing that mattered was you. Just you.

When your fingers tangled in his hair, JJ realized he was completely at your mercy. You were insatiable, like you couldn’t get enough of him. And when your kisses turned more fervent, more desperate, he understood the shift. This wasn’t a sweet, affectionate kiss anymore. This was raw, unrestrained desire. When a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips, JJ froze.

Self-loathing hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen again. With a jolt of awareness, he pulled back abruptly, putting distance between the two of you. As he took in the scene—the two of you on the bed, him hovering over you—he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself take advantage of you like this.

“You’re drunk,” JJ said, his voice unsteady, his breath uneven. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His hands trembled as he held himself back. Deep down, he wished you weren’t drunk. He wished this could be real.

Your gaze met his, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. But JJ knew he was the one who should be apologizing. Tomorrow morning—if he ever found the courage to bring this up—it would be on him. He was the one who was sober. He was the one who should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have let you pull him in, shouldn’t have let himself fall for it.

JJ took a deep breath and carefully helped you lie back on the bed. He brushed your hair back gently, his chest heavy with regret. Not regret for kissing you, but for doing it when you were drunk. For crossing a line when you wouldn’t even remember it. “Get some sleep, okay?” he said softly, trying to push the guilt from his tone.

As he started to pull away and leave the room, you caught his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered.

JJ swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He shook his head slowly, refusing to look at you. “I can’t,” he said quietly. Staying would only make it worse—make him hate himself even more. But then he looked at you, and his resolve crumbled. He cursed himself silently. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was.

“Please,” you said, your voice barely audible. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching. The second he walked out of that room, he knew he’d be sick. He couldn’t believe he’d let things go this far, couldn’t believe he’d put you in this position. You were his friend, and you wouldn’t remember any of this. Not a single moment.

God, he wished you were sober. If you woke up and remembered everything—if you looked at him with disgust—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He couldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. He was terrified—terrified of you waking up and hating him. “Close your eyes,” he murmured without thinking. He couldn’t take the way you were looking at him. That look only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

You did as he asked, your eyes fluttering shut. JJ let out a long, heavy sigh and sat down beside you. He leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself under his breath, “Why do you make me hate myself like this...”

It was close to 3 a.m., and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You’d been awake for hours, but the dull ache in your head and the strange fog clouding your mind refused to lift. Some parts of last night were blurry—there were flashes of laughter, dancing, the wedding… but the details were frustratingly out of reach.

You sat curled up on the corner of the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, the warmth doing little to ease your unease. Across the room, JJ was in the kitchen, fiddling with the kettle as if it was the most intricate puzzle in the world. Normally, you were used to his easygoing, morning-person energy, but this wasn’t it. His movements were precise, almost tense, and his face carried a weird stiffness. You couldn’t make sense of it.

“My head hurts,” you finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. You were tired of his strange behavior.

JJ glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. With a faint, almost forced smile, he said, “Not surprised.” But his tone betrayed something deeper, something unsaid that hung in the air.

“Not surprised?” you asked, frowning. “You’re acting weird, JJ.”

He shrugged, putting the kettle back down and leaning against the counter. His fingers raked through his hair, a telltale sign that something was bothering him. Still, he avoided your eyes. “I’m just… tired. You know, long night and all.”

But you knew it wasn’t just exhaustion. You could feel it. “Did something happen?” you asked, studying his face carefully, hoping to find a clue.

“No,” he said too quickly, his voice sharp before softening a beat later. “No, really. Just… the usual.”

His vague response only unsettled you further, but you decided not to press him. Not right now. Your headache and the foggy haze in your mind were draining enough without getting into a confrontation.

When you glanced at the clock and noticed how late it had gotten, you suddenly straightened. “I need to pick up Liliana,” you said abruptly.

JJ hesitated, his head turning to look at you like he was searching for something in your expression. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “Are you good to drive?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grabbing your bag and standing up. “She’s probably missing us by now. I should get going.”

JJ didn’t respond right away, just nodded slowly. His gaze stayed on you, heavy with something unspoken. It was like he wanted to stop you, to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

As you headed to the door and bent down to put on your shoes, you could still feel his eyes on you. It was unnerving. Pausing for a moment, you glanced back at him. “We’ll talk later,” you said, keeping your tone light but purposeful.

JJ gave another nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk.” But his words carried a weight far greater than they should have.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of your car, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your gut. JJ’s behavior, your pounding headache, and the scattered, blurry memories from the night before were all swirling together, leaving an uneasy knot in your stomach.

As you started the car and pulled onto the road, your phone lit up on the passenger seat. The screen showed Sarah’s name flashing as she called. Reaching over, you grabbed the phone, the knot in your stomach tightening as you answered.

Rafe hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time. When he left Sarah’s house days ago, his steps were slow and heavy. Inside, a storm was raging. His thoughts collided, each crashing harder than the last. Talking to Sarah had been like a slap in the face with the truth he’d tried so hard to avoid. Hearing the things he didn’t want to hear—it had turned his whole world upside down.

Once, he’d believed the life he was living was normal. Or maybe he’d just convinced himself of that. The life he’d shaped with his own choices, every step calculated to reach his goals... He had sacrificed everything for them. Absolutely everything.

And now, there was an emptiness inside him. He’d achieved the goals he’d fought for with relentless ambition and passion, but what had they given him in return? Monotony. A quiet restlessness. His soul was weighed down with a sense of suffocation he couldn’t even admit to himself.

The moment he saw you and Liliana, everything changed. That’s when it all hit him. The scene played over and over in his mind—your icy gaze, Liliana’s delicate features that mirrored his own... her tiny hands, her green dress... Those images were burned into his memory. No matter what he did, he couldn’t erase them.

He couldn’t sleep peacefully anymore. The moment he closed his eyes, he found himself lost in a vivid dream. He was holding you in his arms, playing games in the garden with Liliana. In those dreams, he clung to the illusion of a life he might have had, a life as a father with his own family. But every morning, he woke to the harsh truth. You weren’t his. Liliana wasn’t his. That life wasn’t his.

Even throwing himself into work hadn’t helped. His mind wandered constantly, his thoughts overpowering him. There seemed to be no escape. For days, he’d stopped working entirely. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to just stop. To think. To try to figure out what was right.

But he never expected to see you again. For four years, there had been nothing from you. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to find out where you or your family were. But you’d completely cut him off. You’d disappeared from his world.

And now, after seeing you again, he didn’t know what to do. Should he fight to bring you back into his life, or was he meant to keep paying for the mistakes of his past?

Every night, he dreamed. He dreamed of making you and Liliana part of his world, even though he knew it was impossible. In those dreams, Liliana’s laughter echoed, and you smiled at him. But that smile had been lost to him in the real world long ago.

Calling Sarah had been a desperate act. He just needed to hear something—anything that could help. Again and again, he’d been met with Sarah’s irritated tone on the other end of the line. “What do you want now?” she’d asked, her exasperation unmistakable.

And Rafe’s answer was always the same: “Hey... I just... I need a favor.”

Rafe had realized his life was an illusion. The structure he thought he wanted was nothing but a trap. Seeing you had made that painfully clear. The dream of a life he might have had—holding you in his arms, hearing his daughter’s laughter, playing with her—had carved itself into his mind. But could those dreams ever become reality? Or had the wreckage of the past already swept everything away?

These questions had no answers, but Rafe had made a decision. For the first time, he felt truly lost and defenseless. The only promise he made to himself was not to repeat his mistakes. Or at least, this time, he would try.

To start, he knew he needed help. Calling Sarah, asking for her help—it meant swallowing his pride, but there was no other choice. “I just need to know where she is, Sarah,” he’d pleaded over the phone, his desperation seeping into every word.

Sarah’s reply had been sharp and definitive. “Cut the crap, Rafe. I’m not giving you her address. And if you bother her one more time, I swear you’ll ruin what’s left of the relationship between us too.”

The call ended. It hit him like a cold slap, but Rafe didn’t give up. He called again. Sent messages. Pushed Sarah to the edge of her patience. Eventually, he got a sliver of information. She mentioned a gas station stop. It was his only chance. Today.

He didn’t hesitate. He jumped into his car and sped off, his mind a whirlwind. His heart pounded, his hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

When he arrived at the gas station, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes searched for you, and finally, there you were. Through the store window, he saw you picking something off the shelf. Your eyes narrowed slightly, as if lost in thought.

For a moment, all he could do was watch. His feet felt rooted to the ground. But then he took a deep breath and forced himself forward, one heavy step at a time, toward the door. His heart raced faster with every step, his mind repeating, Is this the right thing? But he had no choice. He needed to see you. He needed to talk to you.

When he opened the door, the bell chimed softly. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his. In that instant, the world seemed to stop. Your gaze held a mix of surprise and anger, but no matter what, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets, hesitating as he walked toward you. His shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes unsure. He stopped a few steps away, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice trembling just enough to betray him.

He watched as your eyes scanned him, waiting for a response. The silence between you felt heavy.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone flat, devoid of any warmth. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. You didn’t take your eyes off him.

Rafe had expected anger, maybe even an outburst. But the coldness in your voice—it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It hit him somewhere deep, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Rafe cleared his throat and briefly lowered his gaze to the floor. He’d imagined seeing you before he arrived but hadn’t thought about what he’d actually say. He tried to slip his hands into his pockets but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. "I—I just wanted to say hi."

Your face fell into an impassive mask. The disdain for him was clear, and Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. "Alright. Hi."

Rafe forced a smile as he looked at you, his expression nervous but determined. "Hi." The silence between you stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the mood, Rafe mumbled, "You look really beautiful, by the way."

Your face immediately hardened, and your eyes flashed with anger, as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said. The hiss that escaped your lips made Rafe regret his words instantly. He’d crossed the line. "Cut the nonsense, Rafe. Can you leave, please?"

Rafe tensed but took a step back. His hands remained buried in his pockets, and he dropped his head slightly, cursing himself. He’d had one chance, and he’d ruined it—like he always did. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled before lowering his hand again. "I—I’m sorry. Really."

He had barely turned to leave when your voice stopped him cold.

"For what?"

Rafe froze, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned back, confusion etched across his face. He understood the question, but was this really the time for this conversation? Of course, he expected you to hate him. He just hadn’t thought he’d get under your skin so quickly. "What?"

"For what are you apologizing?" you repeated, your voice shaking but firm. Despite being in a public place, you struggled to keep it down, your anger barely restrained. "Did you honestly think you could just show up and casually talk to me? Like this is some kind of fucking joke?"

Rafe raised his hands in a helpless gesture. Of course, you were right. What had he been thinking? "No. I—I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, stepping closer to him. Rafe felt his entire body tense. "That’s none of your business. Why do you even care if I’m okay? You didn’t care five years ago."

Rafe dropped his head. No matter what you said, you would always be right. He didn’t even have the words to defend himself. "I know."

"You know?" Your voice climbed, sharp and incredulous, as you jabbed a finger toward him. "Fuck off, Rafe!"

His breathing quickened, but he didn’t back away. This wasn’t how he imagined this would go, but—what did he expect? That you’d run into his arms and forgive everything he’d done? He had deluded himself into thinking you were still the person he used to know. "Look, I’m trying—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" You raised a hand to cut him off, your voice louder than you intended.

Rafe took a step closer. "I swear—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" you yelled, your voice trembling but resolute. Rafe exhaled deeply, defeated. He hated this. Hated himself. He’d never be anything but a source of shame in your eyes.

Rafe fell silent, guilt etched into every line of his face. He ran a hand through his hair, then took a step back. The quiet between you became unbearable. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as the words forced their way out. "It’s over. It’s been over for years. That’s it. You didn’t want—"

"Don’t say it," Rafe interrupted, his voice low but thick with emotion. Every word was weighted with regret.

"You said, ‘Get rid of it!’ You didn’t want it! That’s why it ended," you snapped, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t back down, though. Rafe hated seeing you like this, hated knowing he was the reason for it.

Rafe spread his hands helplessly, unsure of what to do. If you had told him back then, he would’ve accepted it with joy. But back then, he’d been a fool—a selfish, spineless coward desperate for his father’s approval. "I wasn’t thinking straight!"

"Don’t give me that shit, Rafe." A bitter laugh escaped your lips, almost like you were exhaling your pain. You turned your gaze away, shaking your head.

"I wasn’t in a good place," he whispered. But even he knew that no excuse could erase what he’d done. He wasn’t trying to absolve himself—he couldn’t. He was just…lost.

Your laughter cut through him, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because your mistakes were all about your ‘bad mental state.’ Not because you’re just a shitty person! Enough, Rafe! This conversation is pointless. You’ve got a new life—without me. And we’ve got ours—without you. Let it go."

You gave him one last look, lowering the finger you’d been pointing at him. Turning on your heel, you took a step to leave.

Panic flared in Rafe’s chest. He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d made every mistake imaginable, but he couldn’t bear to add another one to the pile. He had to try. And if it didn’t work—well, at least he tried.

"I want to meet her."

You stopped in your tracks. The step you were about to take hung in the air before slowly retreating. You turned to him, eyes blazing with fury.

"Liliana—"

"Don’t you dare!" you shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him as you stormed toward him. Rafe stayed rooted in place, letting your fury wash over him. Of course, you were angry. You had every right to be. He just wished—wished he could turn back time and fix everything. "How dare you? Do you think it’s that simple?!"

Rafe recoiled slightly, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had—or dig himself into an even deeper hole. "I don’t mean to say the wrong thing."

"I don’t care what you mean!" you snapped, your voice cutting through him like a knife. He watched as your expression shifted, protective and fierce. "You’re not meeting her!"

"Don’t make me use force," Rafe said, his voice trembling but firm. He regretted it instantly. He shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t true. He’d never do that. Never. It was a fleeting moment—an impulsive lapse. He needed to think before speaking. Shit.

You flinched. Then, with a bitter laugh, you stepped closer and shoved him in the chest. Rafe let you. He shouldn’t have spoken like an idiot. He should’ve stayed calm.

“What are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead! Does your father even know you have a kid? Everything you’ve built—your stupid little empire—it’ll all crumble! Are you really going to do it? Because you won’t. You’re a coward, and you always have been.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened. “I will,” he said, his tone low but sharp with determination. He could. He had the power. Lawyers, connections—it was all on his side. But he couldn’t do it to you.

You froze, staring at him in shock.

Rafe stepped closer, taking a deep breath and holding out his hands as if trying to calm the storm. He didn’t want this to escalate, and he knew you didn’t want it either. "But I won’t do that. That’s not the point. I want to be in Liliana’s life. I’m going to tell my father.”

You watched his brows furrow as he exhaled. You were right—if he wanted to be a father, his family needed to know. And if you allowed it, they had a right to be informed. But even if you didn’t allow it, he’d still tell them. They wouldn’t take it well. He couldn’t predict what would happen, but he was done hiding. He was done being a coward.

“What?” you asked, disbelief and frustration tightening your voice.

“I’m going to tell them. No matter what.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. It was almost as if the confident man standing before everyone else had deflated before you. He could barely hold your gaze. He knew he didn’t deserve you.

“You’re lying,” you said, stepping back. Your voice carried not just doubt but a deep-rooted unwillingness to believe him. You didn’t want to.

“I swear I’m not.” Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a certainty that startled you. He would do it. In fact, he should have done it from the beginning, back when you told him you were pregnant. He was already too late.

You didn’t want to believe him. But the resolve in his eyes—he’d never looked more sincere.

Rafe drew in a deep breath and spoke, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I want them to know. Everything. I—” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “I’m not making any more mistakes. I can’t afford to.”

Your brows knit together, your face hardening. You took a long, deliberate breath, though it was clear you were barely keeping your emotions in check. “Rafe, if this backfires on us—I don’t want it. I don’t want Liliana or me dragged into this mess.”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “It won’t. I promise.” He wouldn’t let it. Not ever.

Your voice rose, insistent. “Rafe—”

He cut you off, stepping closer. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’m not that stupid, irresponsible kid you left behind anymore. That person...he’s gone. He’s gone for good.”

You let out a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t trust you. I just—can’t.”

The guilt etched deep into Rafe’s face made him drop his gaze. He nodded silently, as if accepting it. He hated himself for this. If one of his friends had done what he had, Rafe would’ve ripped them apart for their irresponsibility, for being such a terrible person. And he knew—that’s exactly what he was. A terrible person.

“I know. It’s going to take everything to prove myself to you, and I get that. But…”

You squinted at him, your eyes sharp and wary. “Liliana thinks her dad’s in space,” you said flatly, your voice dripping with sarcastic calm.

Rafe blinked in surprise. His eyebrows shot up, lips parting as the faintest spark of humor lit his expression. His heart raced at the absurdity of it. “What?”

“Yes,” you said, shrugging. “I told her her dad’s an astronaut. He’s so far away he can’t come see her. If you step into her life, there’s no stepping out again. If you think for one second you can’t handle this, don’t even bother starting.”

Your voice was firm, your gaze sharp as steel. “And—I need time to think.”

Rafe nodded but never took his eyes off you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave her again. No matter what, I won’t lose Liliana. I swear it.”

For a moment, silence hung between you. His seriousness, his unyielding resolve—it threw you off balance. You studied him with narrowed eyes, his words echoing in your mind. They made you uneasy. You hated feeling this way.

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you said at last, your voice tempered, the anger giving way to a measured determination.

Rafe exhaled deeply, relief softening his expression. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quiet.

You lifted your chin, your eyes cold as ever. “I’m not doing this for you.”

This wasn’t a decision you could make on your own. It never had been, and it never could be.

When you returned home with Liliana, you had every intention of explaining everything to JJ. But as soon as you walked through the door, Liliana insisted on playing a game with JJ. Knowing you couldn’t discuss something this heavy in her presence, you simply went along with it. But JJ was no fool. He had picked up on something being off.

He’d been tense since you’d seen him that morning. While playing with Liliana, he would steal glances at you, checking on you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

You had no idea what was bothering him, but that nagging weight in your chest wouldn’t go away. You wanted to just tell him and be done with it. You couldn’t handle this alone—especially not when you and JJ shared a home and were raising a child together.

This wasn’t just your decision to make. No, it would affect JJ too. Practically speaking, the two of you were living together. Sure, JJ had his own place, but he barely used it. He’d take Liliana to school sometimes, decide what she’d eat, and even join you for her daycare events.

Whatever you did for Liliana, JJ did as well. He cared for her as much as you did. At night, he’d kiss her goodnight just as you would. The choice ahead of you wouldn’t just impact your life or Liliana’s—it would alter JJ’s too.

You had to talk to him. You needed to unload this unease and find some relief.

When Liliana and JJ finished playing, your eyes immediately sought his. He was already looking at you. When you held his gaze for a second too long, JJ quickly turned back to Liliana. “Go on, give Mommy a kiss, then you can go upstairs and play with your dolls.” He planted a kiss on her hair and stood up.

Your attention shifted to Liliana as she waddled over to you. “Want some coffee?” JJ asked just as Liliana climbed onto the couch and wrapped her tiny arms around your neck.

“Yes, please,” you replied as her kisses landed on your cheeks. Smiling, you kissed her back. “Now I’m going to play with my dolls. I love you, Mommy,” she chirped, pulling away.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you said, watching as she clambered down and carefully made her way upstairs. Your eyes lingered on her until she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

JJ headed to the kitchen, and you felt the weight of your discomfort pressing down on you. You knew he’d bring you coffee, just like always, but this time, sitting in silence and ignoring the elephant in the room wasn’t an option. You had to talk. The life you shared, the responsibilities you both carried—everything had been thrown off balance by Rafe’s unexpected move. And you needed to know where JJ stood on all of it.

When JJ returned with two cups of coffee, the exhaustion etched on his face hit you immediately. He set your cup in front of you and sank into the opposite chair, staring down at his coffee in silence. You recognized this—the way JJ withdrew when something weighed heavily on him. You’d seen it many times before.

“JJ,” you said, not bothering to hide the determination in your voice. He hesitated for a moment before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. The calm you were used to seeing in his eyes had been replaced by something much harder to read.

“Something happened,” you said, noticing the way his brows instantly furrowed.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with something fragile. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within you. “Rafe,” you said, hoping that single word would convey everything.

JJ’s expression hardened instantly. He straightened in his seat, his protective instincts kicking in. “What happened?”

Your hands tightened around your coffee cup as you steadied yourself. “He… he wants to be in Liliana’s life,” you said, the words feeling heavy as they left your mouth. “He told me as much. And it doesn’t feel like something I can decide on my own. It’s not just my decision to make.” You trailed off, watching JJ’s face shift—from shock to anger and finally to a resigned sort of disbelief.

JJ’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hands remained on the cup, his fingers whitening with the grip, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. You wanted so badly to read his thoughts, but he gave nothing away. He just sat there, silent. And that silence unnerved you more than any outburst ever could.

It was driving you mad. You waited for him to speak—to say yes, no, anything. When it came to Liliana, your emotions were always raw, and thinking clearly was difficult. You needed JJ to ground you. “Say something,” you whispered, your voice betraying the helplessness you felt.

“Are you meeting him?” JJ finally asked, his voice barely audible. The room felt eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest. You noticed his knuckles whitening further as he clutched his cup, his gaze still glued to the floor.

You shook your head quickly. “No. He came to me. I didn’t go to him. I didn’t call him—he found me. I would never willingly see him.” You paused, your voice trembling. “He… he saw us a few days ago. And today, when I went to pick up Liliana, he was at the gas station.” You swallowed hard, bracing for JJ’s reaction. You wanted him to lash out—to yell, to be angry at someone—but he didn’t. He just sat there.

“You’re her mother,” he said at last, his words cutting like a blade. His tone wasn’t comforting—it was almost dismissive. You’d hoped for guidance, for support, but his response left you feeling more alone.

“JJ—” you began, but he cut you off sharply. His gaze never lifted as he leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. His reactions were impossible to decipher.

“This is your choice.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you countered, your heart pounding as you leaned forward, trying to draw his attention. You needed him to look at you, to see you, but he remained where he was, unmoving.

“Alright, suit yourself.” JJ’s voice was flat, his tone monoton once again. You could feel your frustration rising, but you knew it stemmed from sadness.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t make this decision alone.

“No, this is your choice.” JJ took a sip from his coffee. You had no idea how to change his mind. He kept throwing out these ridiculous comments and expected you to agree. And—it wasn’t like him at all. He spoke as if—as if he’d never been part of Liliana’s life. As if he hadn’t been there raising her alongside you.

“JJ—”

“Maybe you should move in together. You, Liliana, and Rafe. Picture-perfect family, what do you think?” His lips curled into a sarcastic smirk, and your jaw dropped. That bitter smile on his face made you feel utterly defeated. Did he even realize how ridiculous he sounded? These weren’t your words at all.

“Maybe you’ll rekindle your great love, hmm? Have another kid—” You couldn’t take it anymore. Did he not know you at all? Hadn’t he seen everything you’d been through? How could he talk like this?

Besides—you had come to him for advice. To figure out what to do as a team. It’s not like you had run to JJ impulsively to say yes to Rafe’s offer. You hadn’t even accepted it!

“You know I didn’t say that!” you yelled, unable to hold back your anger any longer. The realization that Liliana was upstairs hit you hard, and you closed your eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath to calm yourself before opening them again.

“I came to you for advice,” you said, the words catching in your throat. “To tell you this isn’t a decision I can make alone. And you’re—you’re saying all this to me?” The disappointment was written all over your face. You wanted to talk this through together, not deal with it on your own.

JJ gave a hollow chuckle as he stood up. When he slammed his coffee mug onto the table, you flinched. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “Maybe you’ll leave Asheville, move back to the Outer Banks. Start over with Rafe.” He turned his back on you, one hand resting on his hip while the other rubbed his temple. A frustrated sigh escaped him.

His words hit you like a slap. You stood abruptly. “You’re being cruel,” you said, your voice shaking. You cursed yourself as you felt your lips begin to tremble. You hated crying.

JJ’s face hardened. The anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by that same flat tone. “It’s not my place to decide. You’re her parent.”

“Me? Just me? So you weren’t her parent when you changed her diapers, stayed up with her when she cried at night, or showed up for her daycare events? Do you not see that Liliana views you as a father figure in her life?” Your voice cracked, as shattered as your emotions. You couldn’t stand how foolish he was being—or how he was acting. He wasn’t listening to you. “Does being a family only count if there’s blood involved?”

JJ paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Rafe’s her father. If he wants to be part of her life, you should let him.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Stop talking like that!” you cried, desperation creeping into your tone.

JJ turned to you sharply, frustration etched into his features. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “Didn’t you ask for my opinion? I just gave it to you. But know this—if he’s in her life, he’ll be in yours too. Whether you like it or not.”

That final sentence struck a nerve, and the storm inside you intensified. Before you could respond, JJ cut you off again. “You’ll fall for him again—” His smile was bitter, filled with pain.

You couldn’t take another second of this. “Do you think I forgot what he did to me?!” you shouted, interrupting him. “He left me when I was three months pregnant! Do you think I’m stupid enough to forgive that?!”

“I didn’t say that,” JJ muttered, his voice lower, but his words cut like a blade. “But you won’t be able to control your feelings.”

“You have no idea how I feel!” you snapped, anger and heartbreak tangled together in your voice. When you noticed a faint smirk tugging at JJ’s lips, your brows furrowed.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, his tone strangely hollow. He nodded as if conceding your point, his tongue running over his teeth. “I really don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, shaken by how cold and distant he had become. His words were so cryptic, so frustratingly vague, it felt like he was mocking you.

“I don’t know. What do I mean?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shook his head. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something you didn’t.

It felt like you were trapped in an endless loop. When JJ began gathering his things from the table, your heart clenched. Despite everything, you didn’t want him to leave. No matter what he said—you couldn’t bear for him to turn his back on you. This couldn’t be happening.

As your anger faded into pure worry, you watched him with rising panic. You took a step forward, but he had already packed up. No. This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t let Rafe ruin your life all over again. “Where—JJ, wait. Please.”

JJ headed for the door, and you quickly followed, grabbing his arm. When he turned to face you, your eyes brimmed with tears. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want this to end in anger and heartbreak. “Please—please, don’t go. Don’t.”

“I need some air,” he said, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, his expression softened.

“I’ll stop talking, I swear—” you rushed out, desperate to keep him from leaving. You were ready to beg if it came to that. This wasn’t worth losing him over, not something so small. It didn’t have to escalate like this.

“I’ll come back,” he said. His tone was steady, reassuring. But you didn’t want him to go, not even for a moment. Even if it meant sitting in silence together, you needed him to stay. You weren’t used to him walking away.

“I really will stop—” you started again, your voice trembling. Your hands briefly reached for his arm before falling back to your sides, unsure of what to do.

JJ looked away, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. His fingers raked through his blond strands, his face tense and brooding. His brows were furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw tightened slightly. When he finally turned back to you, his gaze was a mixture of emotions—no anger, but a deep, aching disappointment.

“I don’t want you to stop talking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, but it carried a quiet intensity. “If I stay, we’ll just hurt each other more.” He hesitated, drawing in a long, controlled breath before stepping back further. “I just need some space to calm down. I’ll come back.”

“I’m sorry—” you murmured, your hand instinctively reaching out to him again before stopping mid-air. You were scared to touch him, scared it might push him further away.

“Don’t.” JJ stepped back another pace, lifting his hand slightly as if to hold you at bay. “I’m not mad at you.” His gaze met yours, and beneath the resolve in his eyes, you could see how fragile he felt, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Yes, you are. You’re mad at me. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper.

JJ froze for a moment, exhaling deeply as he looked away. His hands fell to his sides, and he shook his head slowly, as if wrestling with something. “Why shouldn’t you have brought it up?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges. When his eyes met yours again, there was pain in them, not directed at you but at himself. “This has always been your choice. I only said what I did because I care about you. I’m not angry at you—how could I be? How could I ever be angry at you?”

He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. His fingers fidgeted unconsciously near the pocket of his jeans, and his lips pressed into a thin line before parting again. “I’m angry at myself,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

His words stopped you in your tracks. Looking at his face, you realized there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Asking might shatter the fragile tension that still tethered you together.

JJ stood motionless for a long moment, then turned and walked toward the door. He stopped just before opening it, resting his hand on the frame. His fingertips gripped the edge so tightly they turned white. Without looking back, he stepped out. The door closed with a soft but final thud, the sound echoing through the room, leaving the air heavier than before.

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reallyromealone · 1 day ago

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Title: mate oh my mate chapter 2

Fandom: vampries knight

Characters: vampire knight cast

Fic type: fluff, angst

Pairings: Kaname. x reader, yuuki x Kaname one sided

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, yuuki is angry, one sided love, reader has powers, reader can see the future and is an empath

Notes: thank you all for the support it genuinely means the world to me

Summary: things quickly spiral and Yuuki has enough and cross realizes that (name) knows more than he lets on

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Yuuki couldn't stop staring at him.

The other Omega.

(Name) Walked with a grace she couldn't even begin to emulate and a poise that made her look like a wild animal and all that made her despise the vampire prince. (Name) Barely acknowledged her, not to be rude but their paths didn't cross very often and when they did he was so fucking kind to her!

"Just because he's an Omega, suddenly he's more important than anyone else!" Yuuki ranted to Sayori who listened patiently, knowing the brunettes love/obsession for Kaname and the sudden competition was driving the poor girl into a spiral. Sayori didn't have the heart to tell her that Yuuki was never even in the race, seeing how Kaname looked at (name) the few times that she saw them... That was a love that could never be faked. "I-I just have to show him that I'm good enough! That I can be a capable wife!"

Sayori didn't say anything but let her continue until the morning bells rang, halting the girls ranting.

(Name) Politely chatted with Aido, not sitting to close to the Alpha and primarily letting the Alpha chat away while Kaname spoke with the teacher,(name) liked Aido as the blond treated him like a genuine friend which was something (name) didn't have much of due to his status. "Thankfully the day students are less crazy in the mornings since they're tired and have to be in class!" Aido cheered and (name) nodded, finding the evening switch to be quite intense and the Omega frankly didn't know what to do with so many people fawning over him.

"(Name)" Kaname called out to his mate, (name) politely saying his goodbyes to Aido before promptly walking to Kaname with an obedience that made the Alpha let out a soft rumble, happy (name) was being good for him; mostly due to the fact (name) wasn't Hungry.

"Are you ready to leave?" Kaname) asked in a whisper, kissing his mates temple and (name) closed his eyes before nodding, exhaustion hitting him in slow moving waves.

The night class never spoke about the fact Kaname and (name) shared a bed, it kept (name)s instincts at bay and calmed him considerably... None of them wanted to deal with him when he was even slightly feral.

"Then let's get to bed ,yes?"

"So why is (name) treated the way he is?" Zero asked his adoptive father who sighed "Zero, do you know what a feral Omega is like?" He asked the young alpha calmly, the white haired teen thought for a moment before answering "they're strong, they run in instincts and they could take down an alpha if their instincts were on high Enough alert"

"Good you pay attention in class, now take all that and put that into a vampire who struggles with reality because they're a seer and the only person who can keep them calm is a busy alpha vampire trying to keep his sibling from putting the seer Omega into a spiral" cross was rarely this serious, staring at the other calmly and Yagari blew smoke from his cigarette "(name) is incredibly dangerous but he is incredibly vital, him being here and monitored by not just the night class will keep him and everyone safe"

Zero thought about his mentor and adoptive father's words "but why keep him alive if he's so dangerous?"

"(Name) Can see the future and can predict danger with terrifying accuracy, keeping him on our side is detrimental especially as the vampire royalty has made a treaty with the hunters!" cross smiled at the teen, wanting to calm him down a bit "so, as long as he's with Kaname or calm we shouldn't have problems"

"He must be a monster" zero spat, frustrated at the Omega being treated with such a level of superiority and cross sighed before looking out the window to see (name) walking with the night class "the thing is... Hes innocent, hes... He's just terrified and why wouldn't he? Would you not be terrified if you knew what everyones intentions were towards you? To detect ones emotions and know just how powerful one could be?"

"He lives in a nightmare in his own mind and we can merely bare witness to the events"

He could feet the rage, the resentment and the pure acidity of jealously radiate off his sister in law, the two locking eyes and flashes of her intentions and outcomes in the future flickering in this head before it locked onto Kaname protecting him from a rod.

He felt pity for her, he knew how vampiric traditions worked and he knew typically if it was possible, she would be with Kaname but (name) outranked her due to his omegan status...

He couldn't help but feel pity for her, breaking eye contact to continue walking to the night dorms while Kaname walked a bit behind, eyeing his sister with caution and trying to figure out what her next steps were.

Yuuki glared at (name), hands shaking and she hated that she couldn't smell his pharamones due to being a beta, (name) on the other hand smelling the anger radiating off her and scrunched his nose at the smell though to Yuuki it was seen as him looking at her with disgust.

And that's all she needed, pulling out her weapon to strike him down.

She ran full speed at (name) and jumped to strike him, (name) quickly turning and stepping away and letting Kaname step before him and block her attack. Yuuki was stunned at her brother, anger flooding her body and tears filled her eyes.

"That is enough!" Kanames voice bellowed through the courtyard, causing Yuuki to shrink back at the sound and (name) to fidget, a soft whine escaping his lips. "Yuuki, you were raised better than this" his voice firm and the girl glared at her brother teary eyed "you are old enough to keep your emotions in check, these childish tantrums are unbecoming and frankling pathetic, get your act together because no one cares to entertain these delusions!" Kaname would not tolerate his sister's blatant attack and if it weren't for the dwindling numbers of pure bloods, he would have struck her down where she stood.

He loved his sister deeply but this had to end.

"Whats going on?" Cross spoke hurriedly while Yagari and Zero followed behind, trying to assess the situation "Yuuki attacked (name), well attempted!" Aido called out and Ichigo checked in on said Omega who was mumbling things with his eyes closed much to the concern of everyone but Yuuki who was confused and a bit unsettled by the Omega "Kaname, take (name) back to the dorms will you?" Cross had to have a conversation with the youngest kuran-cross.

Kaname held (name) close, walking him briskly to the dorms while (name) whispered things that only Kaname could hear "her hearts made of fire and Brimstone.... Her impatience will cause her to fall from the tree..." (Name)s words barely made sense but Kaname put it together enough to know a problem when he seen one. "Let's rest now, love" he ushered him up to their room where (name) looked at kanames hand and the burn mark from the weapon "her fire burned you, my love" (name)s voice grew colder, the polite tone in his voice vanishing and at that moment Yuuki Kuran was an enemy to (name).

Kaname knew it was only a matter of time before (name)s instincts caused him to lash out, he would need to satisfy the omegas base instincts to settle him before (name) caused problems for the Alpha.

Oh the double edged sword of having a hopelessly in love mate...

"None of this..." Kaname scolded (name) lovingly and pulled him into a kiss, trying to distract him from the rage that was filling the others being "behave for your alpha" (name) enjoyed the kisses, his rage subsided to soak in the attention the other was giving him "but--"

"Shh" Kaname bit his own lip, blood staining the alphas bottom lip and immediately captivating (name) who wanted a taste.

And falling for Kanames tricks like an obedient dog.

But Kaname knew (name) wouldn't forget such insolence from Yuuki, he knew the Omega had cards up his sleeves that he had yet to share with his alpha, did he know of the attack? It would explain the step back...

He would have to gently interrogate (name) once the other calmed down, knowing if he didn't get this in check that Kaname would be an only child.

Cross remembered when he first met (name), the tragedy of someone so sweet slowly go mad due to the powers gifted to them from generations before, it was slight things that he noticed with (name), the mood swings and jumping from fully lucid and passive to existing in almost a dreamlike existence.

And now Yuuki made an enemy of (name), an Omega who was trying to find the fox in his henhouse but not knowing he was his own fox.

For Yuukis own safety, he had to put her under house arrest, he knew this was just teen jealously and she would realize what she did but till then, (name) was to be kept far away from her.

"She's furious but she's safe" Yagari said softly, having locked her in her old bedroom "I can't believe she would do something so rash and--"" she's a scorned lover even if that loves one sided" Yagari calmed the man "only (name) would have seen it"

Which was something that made them pause.

"(Name) Would have seen this, why didn't he say anything?"

But they subconsciously knew why.

(Name) Wanted a fight.

#anime x reader #anime x male reader #x male reader #omega male reader #omegaverse #male reader #vampire knight x reader #vampire knight x male reader #kaname x male reader #kaname x reader

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miniseokminnies · 2 days ago

Text

waste a moment —- w.jh

❅ pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader ❅ theme: fluff, strangers to lovers ❅ w/c: 5k ❅ warnings: mentions of food, stressful work environment, mentions of death (not plot relevant) ❅ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! every writer involved is so extremely talented! send over some love! shout out to @tusswrites and @haologram for keeping me sane and beta reading! ❅ tags: @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi, @crab-ranjun, @heechwe

The only sound you can hear is your own steps on the pavement as you run to your bus stop, you are late, so late. You knew the ninth time hitting snooze this morning was too many, but of course, you did it anyway. The weather outside is slowly getting colder and gloomier as the world prepares for autumn to come, so what could a few more moments in your warm bed hurt?

As it turns out, your feet, the concrete was unforgiving and your flat-soled shoes provided little cushioning. Pushing the last few blocks to your stop your lungs were starting to burn, running was not typically something you took joy in. Rounding the corner, something felt out of place.

The early morning haze was interrupted by the glow of a neon “open” sign affixed to the window of the only permanent building near the bus stop shelter. This building never stood out to you, it was always quiet and dark when you got on and off the bus. Every morning and every evening, without fail whoever owned the building got there after you and left before you. The smell of spices wafted out of the door and almost made you stop before you realized this all meant that you were even later than you thought you were. The bus you usually take was long gone by now and you didn’t even know the schedule well enough to know when the next one would arrive.

Sighing, you accepted your fate and moved toward the shelter and squatted in front of where the stray cats always play. A small orange kitten was playing with the weeds growing out from the cracks in the sidewalk. You reached out to pet him, and as soon as his attention settled on you, he flopped to the side and tried to playfully bite your fingers as you wiggled them.

You heard the bus approach the kitten trotted away toward the restaurant. Once settled in your seat on the bus you check your watch, 7:45 am and still another 15 minute bus ride to work. You sigh and prepare yourself for the reprimand you will surely get once you arrive.

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Ms. Lee,” you bowed your head apologetically, “I missed the first bus…I had to wait for the next one.” Ms. Lee, the head nurse of your unit, swiveled around in her chair.

“Well, you could have called,” she gestured to the phone at the nurse’s station, “Eunbi had to stay after her night shift to cover for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she stood up from her chair, “Get changed,” she began to walk away and turned back to you briefly, “Oh, and Y/N?” You nodded, “I’m sure you won’t mind staying late tonight to even out the shifts for Eunbi, hm?”

“Of course not,” you muttered, a certain dread settled in your stomach as you walked to the nurse’s changing room. By staying late tonight you will run into the same problem you had this morning. You don’t know the next bus after your usual one. You shuffled into the room and caught sight of Eunbi slipping into her coat.

“Good morning, Y/N!” She smiled at you.

“Eunbi, I’m so sorry for making you stay late!” You slumped against your locker, “it was a total accident I missed my bus and-”

“Woah!” She laughed and reached out to smooth her hands over your arms. “It’s totally okay, it happens, you’ve covered for me before.”

“It’s just that…Ms. Lee,” you started.

“She’s a crotchety old bat,” she rolled her eyes. “We all think so, no one else here is mad at you.”

“Thank you,” you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, “but I’m still covering the first 45 minutes of your shift tonight, don’t try to tell me no.”

“Alright, alright, see you at shift change.” She smiled and squeezed your arms before leaving you alone in the quiet room. After changing as quickly as possible you made your way back to the nurse’s station to catch up on what you missed.

“Mr. Kang in 304 has been looking for you all morning,” Ms. Lee informed you as she pushed his file into your hand, “he will only take his medication from you if you could help him right away.”

Your knock on the door of room 304 echoed down the hallway. It was still early so the quiet of a hospital before a day begins was generally still intact. You pushed through the door to see Mr. Kang propped up on his pillows, smiling at you.

Mr. Kang has been in your care since you started at this hospital a few months ago. You work in the long term care unit, so it isn’t uncommon for patients to form attachments to nurses here. He was an old man, probably old enough to be your grandpa, who became a widower years ago. A week or so before you started here he had a terrible fall at home, breaking his hip.

“Good morning Mr. Kang!” You mustered a smile.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He smiled softly and attempted to sit up straighter. You moved to his side quickly to help him with the pillows.

“So,” you sat in the chair near his bed when he was settled, “I hear you aren’t taking your pills from Ms. Lee or Eunbi?”

“Is that what Ms. Lee said?” He chuckled, “it’s not that I won't, it's just that I’m used to it being you in the morning, and when it’s not, I have trouble.”

“Be that as it may, you still need your medication, Mr. Kang.” You informed him before moving to retrieve the medication.

“It’s a bit late now,” he started, you sighed thinking he was going to try and get out of taking the medication, “but could you take me to the big windows to watch the rest of the sunrise?”

“Tell you what,” you begin to divide the pills into small cups, “take your pills, no complaints, and I’ll take you.” Mr. Kang eagerly agreed. You helped him into his wheelchair and the two of you made the short trek to the back of the wing where the big windows were.

Mr. Kang told you about how he and his wife used to watch the sunset every Saturday morning while they ate breakfast together. These mornings were the highlight of his week, he was so happy to just have moments with his wife where time didn’t matter, just the two of them. Every time he tells you this story, or something similar about his wife, you are struck with the fact that you never have the time to do anything like this. Since graduating nursing school your life has been scheduled out to the minute. This morning at the bus stop was the first time in months that you felt the urge to go against that schedule.

“It’s going to snow soon,” Mr. Kang pulled you out of your thoughts. He pointed a crooked finger at the dark clouds overhead. “Be careful going home tonight, I remember how unreliable those buses can be.”

The cold winter air stung your cheeks and whipped your hair. Mr. Kang was right, it would snow today, the day you had to stay late and miss your bus. Because of the weather the buses weren’t running on schedule, you waited for almost an hour at the bus stop and no one ever came. You had to walk home.

The snow swirled around you and made it difficult to see, you knew that you were almost home, or at least, it felt that way. You were soaked and freezing to the bone, you’d be lucky if you woke up with just a cold tomorrow. Just as the shelter of your bus stop was starting to materialize through the snow you felt your foot catch the curb in front of you. You attempted to catch yourself but there was no use, you were falling. When you open your eyes to assess the situation you realize you fell into an alleyway and were lying on the ground staring up at a few trash cans.

Just as you decided that maybe you should just lay here and die, you hear the door of the building to your left open. A man is yelling in a language you don’t understand, is he yelling at you? Before you had any time to think about that you felt a hand on the back of your coat, pulling you up off the ground.

“Oh,” the man blinked down at you, “it’s you.” With that he pulled you inside. He placed you in a corner near the front door. “Stay there.” He instructed you and held his hands out as if he was taming a wild animal. He backed away from you slowly for several steps then turned on his heel and ran into a back room. You heard him rifling through things for several minutes.

Beyond that the only sounds in the small room were the dripping of melted snow off your coat and on to the floor. You took in your surroundings, slowly dethawing. The room was actually a small restaurant, with tables crammed into the small space. The room the man disappeared into was near the kitchen, judging by the location of the window behind the counter.

“You must be freezing,” he emerged from the room with a stack of clothes, “why didn’t you take the bus in this weather?” He was scolding you like you were best friends for years.

“I’m sorry? Do we know each other?”

“No, not really,” he blinked at you.

“Then…” you searched his face.

“You get on the bus when I get off,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and in the evenings, you get off the bus when I get on.” He held the clothes out to you again, as if to remind you why you’re in his restaurant. “You’re dripping on my floor.” He mumbled.

“Oh!” You gasped and began searching for a place to hang your coat. He placed the stack of clothes on a nearby table and helped you out of your coat.

“Take them,” he gestured to the clothes with his elbow, “the bathroom is back near the kitchen, change and warm up.” You nodded at the strange man’s kindness and headed to the bathroom to change.

You peeled your wet clothes away from your skin, grateful to be rid of them. In the kitchen you heard pots and pans clanging and soon there was a spicy aroma engulfing the entire building. Once you were ready you walked back into the main dining area. The clothes he lent you were far too big for you, the sweatpants were dragging on the floor and you felt like you were swimming in the oversized hoodie, but you were thankful to be warm.

“Have a seat anywhere!” He called through the window from the kitchen, “it’s almost ready!” You had no idea what he was making or why but you would be thankful for a warm meal after the day you had. The chair scraped across the floor of the otherwise quiet restaurant. Now that you could feel your toes you took another look around the space. The neon sign that you remembered from this morning was turned off, and the windows had their blinds closed. It was like the entire building was shut off from the outside world. Seeing it this way from inside was strange, as it usually was buttoned up like this when you saw it waiting for the bus. Which would make sense, you realized, if what he said was true, that you were on the opposite side of the bus schedule on a normal day.

“I made soup,” he emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two bowls. He sat the tray on the table in front of you and contemplated sitting down for a few seconds too long for someone who made two bowls, clearly for the both of you. Finally, he plopped into the chair across from you and passed you a spoon. He moved one of the bowls from the tray so it was in front of him. You watched as he took a large spoonful, blew on it lightly, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes closed and he was obviously proud of the dish.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared at you. “Do you like spice?” he asked around the soup in his mouth, sounding muffled and panicked. You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing. His eyes grew wider than you had seen them all night and he swallowed his mouthful.

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to control the giggling, “yes I’m fine with spice. Is this spicy?”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, “it’s called Hulatang which literally means peppery and spicy soup. It’ll clear your sinuses.”

“You didn’t poison it, right?”

“What?” He looked at you bewildered.

“Well, you picked me up out of the trash,” you bring your spoon to your lips, “and I don’t even know your name.” You put the spoon in your mouth. The flavor blossoms on your tongue.

“Junhui”

“Okay, Junhui.” You nod, “can I have a glass of water?” He scrambled behind the counter to find a glass. He returned quickly.

“Is it too much?” He asked, sitting back down, “I handle spice well, so I can’t tell.”

“No, no,” you sipped your water, “it’s good, so good.” He smiled and went back to his meal. The two of you ate in silence until the bowls were empty and you felt warm from the spicy broth.

“I thought you were a raccoon earlier.” He blurted out of the blue as he was clearing the dishes from the table. “The raccoons always get in my trash, I was surprised they would be out in this weather though.” He continued, “I do worry about the cats though…”

“First snow of the year, and it’s brutal,” you agreed, “wait, you’re the one who feeds the cats!” You exclaim over the sound of the water turning on. You follow him back to the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to yell.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his task, “if I didn’t, who would?” He moved the pot he used to make the soup into the sink. You smiled to yourself, remembering the kitten you played with this morning.

“How long have you been feeding them?” You asked, helping him move glasses from the side into the sink. He smiled at you.

“Since I started renting this building,” he thought for a moment, “Almost three years ago.”

“That long?” You gasped, “I’ve only been living in my apartment near here for a few months. I just graduated nursing school and I got a job at the hospital.”

“Oh I live near there,” he nodded, knowing exactly where you were talking about, “we live near each other’s work places.” He pointed out.

“Suppose we do,” you smiled.

“What’s your name?” He asked, turning off the sink.

“Oh my God,” you blushed realizing you never told him, “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated softly as if tasting the new information on his tongue.

It has been four days since you met Junhui at his restaurant. You made sure to look for him while getting on and off the bus. He always smiled at you, no time to talk so smiles do just fine. You never did get the chance to ask him why he was still out that night.

You rolled over in bed and checked your phone. It was 10:40 am on your day off and you couldn’t stop thinking about the man who runs the restaurant down the street. It would be lunch time soon, maybe you could convince yourself to make the short trip over. To eat, certainly not to see him again.

Without a second thought you were out of bed and fixing your hair in the mirror. Once satisfied with how you looked, you threw on your coat and went out the door. The walk to your bus stop is short and relatively easy. The weather today was much nicer than the last time you found yourself inside Junhui’s restaurant.

The bell above the door twinkled at your entrance. You shifted awkwardly at the entrance of the building as the only other patron shot you curious glances.

“One moment!” You heard Junhui call from the kitchen. Soon, he appeared from the kitchen holding a tray similar to the one he brought your soup on a few days prior. He stumbled and almost dropped the tray when he saw you in the doorway. The other man in the room laughed and said something teasingly in a language you didn’t understand. Junhui glared at the man and then glanced back at you. “Y/N, do you speak Mandarin?” As soon as you confirmed that, no you do not, Junhui was uttering what you could only assume were curses at the other man. He set the plates of food on the table. “You can have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you!” He smiled at you.

You selected a table near the kitchen, the other man was at a table near the only window in the building. The two of them continued to bicker in Mandarin for a few minutes. You smiled to yourself, Junhui seemed close with him. Eventually, he broke away, and made his way to your table.

“Hi,” you smiled at him.

“Hi,” his lips broke into a small smile, “I’m sorry about him, he’s my best friend, we’ve known each other for ages.”

“No worries,” you assured him.

“What can I get you?” He bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet. He looked less tired today, his eyes were bright and his dark hair was tucked up into a beanie. You eyed the menu he still had tucked under his arm. “Oh!” He scrambled to grab it and all but threw it down on the table in front of you.

“Any recommendations?” You asked, scanning the menu full of dishes. He took a deep breath and sat down across from you. He started in on an explanation of the menu. You struggled to listen to everything he had to say because you were busy admiring him. He was so passionate about his recipes and the food he got to make.

“This one is my grandma’s recipe,” he pointed to an item on the menu and looked up at you with expectant eyes. “It’s ground pork and egg basically.”

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “Tell me how to pronounce it so I can ask for it by name next time.”

“Xiándàn zhēng ròubǐng,” he collects the menu and practically skips back to the kitchen with the promise of you coming back again. You watched him go until he disappeared then you pulled out your phone to pass the time.

“I’m Minghao by the way,” you looked up to see Junhui’s friend standing in front of you. “I’ve heard a lot about you, I hope you keep coming around to keep him company.” He smiled at you before shouting Junhui’s name and telling him something in Mandarin. Junhui responded from the back and with that Minghao knocked twice on your table and turned to leave.

About ten minutes later, Junhui reemerged to clear Minghao’s table. He began clearing it of the dishes left behind.

“Did he bother you?” He asked as he passed your table with dishes stacked in his hands.

“Oh, no!” You assured him, “he just introduced himself.” You conveniently omitted the part about Minghao letting you know that Junhui had been talking about you.

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “your meal should be ready in about ten minutes, I’ll be back then.”

As promised he returned with the food you ordered and a glass of water. He set the food on the table and sat in the chair across from you. “Taste,” he told you, he could hardly contain the giddiness he felt. It was bubbling in his chest and he bounced his knee under the table to expel some of the extra energy he felt.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, picking up your spoon.

“Hm?” He blinked, “oh, no, not yet.”

“Get a spoon,” you pointed toward the counter, “we’ll share.” He smiled widely at you and quickly retrieved a spoon. The two of you split the meal, getting to know each other as you ate. You told him all about your job at the hospital and your trouble with Ms. Lee. Junhui made a disapproving noise when you told him about what happened on the day you showed up in his trash.

“She sounds horrible,” he mumbled around a mouthful of rice.

“She is!” You threw your hands up, “we all think so, even Eunbi, who is the nicest person there.”

In turn Junhui told you about how he ended up owning a restaurant at a bus stop thousands of miles from where he was raised. He was feeling stuck in the monotony of his job, which he found extremely boring, in China. So he set out to find something new and he ended up here. He tried finding a job but ultimately decided to open up this restaurant which is like a tiny slice of home for him.

The bell above the door rang out, ultimately stopping your conversation. Junhui looked up at the customer now standing in his restaurant. He shot you an apologetic look, to which you shook your head and shooed him away so he could take care of the woman.

He greeted her as you began to stack the dishes up for him. You gave a small wave as he was getting her seated. He glanced at you and held up a finger, as if to ask you to hold on for a moment. After the woman is settled in he jogs back to the room near the kitchen and comes back with his phone clutched in his hand.

“Not to be weird,” he smiled sheepishly, “but could I maybe get your number? I’d like to continue talking to you.”

Over the last week Junhui texted you a few times, mostly to send pictures of the cats. Every so often the two of you would update each other on how things are going. On one occasion Junhui requested you come retrieve leftovers from him on your day off so you had lunch for the following day.

You placed said leftovers in the microwave of the staff lounge, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your scrubs as you set the time. You were taking lunch later than usual today so you figured it was Junhui checking in on how the food reheated after he finished up the lunch rush. The screen lit up with text messages and notifications as you pulled it out.

Junhui: today sux

Junhui: this guy just came in DURING A RUSH and screamed at me that there wasn’t a table

Junhui: i hope the congee tasted okay reheated

Junhui: can’t talk more. people are the worst!! 😾

The microwave beeps, making you jump. You opened the door and sighed, you knew that there were bound to be days where things got to be too much for him. You were no stranger to bad days, even when you’re passionate about what you were doing. It was one of those days when you met Junhui, you knew how he felt.

As soon as your shift was over you were flying out the door. You wanted to make it to the convenience store on the corner before your bus came. Your left shoe felt like it was coming untied but you didn’t stop to check, no time. Filling your arms with jelly snacks, ramen, and a few drinks you made your way to the checkout.

You made it to the bus stop with your haul as the bus was arriving. Letting out a sigh of relief you paid your fare and found a spot to sit. Feeling a buzz in your pocket you pull out your phone once more.

Junhui: if i see another person today i might lose it

Junhui: [Attachment: 1 Image]

You smiled at the picture, it was taken from the window of Junhui’s restaurant. The neon sign is shut off and the blinds are drawn already. Perfect, this meant that he was more than likely waiting for the bus already. You could just grab him and drag him back inside.

Junhui was not at the bus stop. You walk to the front door and turn the knob, it was unlocked. His forehead was resting on the counter, he looked silly hunched over it like that. He let out an annoyed groan hearing the bell above the door.

“I’m closed,” he mumbled against the counter. When he didn’t hear you leave he snapped his head up, “I said I–oh, hi.” His tone softened immediately when he saw you standing there with a plastic sack held out in front of you.

“Hi,” you hazarded a few steps toward him, “is it safe? Or are you gonna bite my head off?”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled airily, “it has been…a day.”

“I know,” you nodded, “I come bearing gifts.” You hold up the sack again, as a peace offering. He held out his hands, looking slightly childlike.

“Show me the haul.” The two of you go through the small store bought feast in the bag. Once he saw the cup ramen at the bottom he trotted to the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil.

You set aside two sets of chopsticks as Junhui plopped the noodles into the pot. He told you all about the people he saw today and about while he was grateful for the business some people could just be so draining. You agreed, you loved your job but some patients were just too much to handle at times.

You watched as he tore open the flavoring packets with his teeth. He sprinkled it over the noodles in the pot, but you were still fixated on his full lips. You know that Junhui is handsome, it’s hard to miss. But should you have been staring so intently? Probably not, right?

That was what you thought until he turned and held your gaze for several moments. He seemed to be just as frozen as you were, his eyes flicked to your lips and for a second you swore he was going to kiss you.

“Ramen’s done,” he said, barely above a whisper.

The day had been uneventful. Your job was monotonous and boring, and to make matters worse you hadn’t heard from Junhui in several days. You still saw him smiling at you from the bus stop but he seemed like he had been avoiding having a real conversation with you since that day you thought he might kiss you.

You watched the city speed by out the window of the bus and wondered if you had done something wrong. Did you read him wrong? Maybe he didn’t like you at all, you’re just some weird person that showed up in his trash one day. That day wasn’t all that different from today, it was snowing again. You were surprised that there was this much time between the first and second snow this year.

Your fingers wrapped around the cord as you alerted the driver that your stop was up next. You gathered your things and prepared for the cold walk from your stop to your apartment. Junhui was standing in front of the bus stop shelter, you knew it was him by his height and the way he shrank into himself to look at his phone. The blue light caught his features in a way that made him look almost dreamlike. The brakes on the bus squealed to a stop, making him look up from his phone.

You expected him to brush you off with a smile, just as he had every day for the last week. However, he just stood there, waiting, until the moment your feet hit the ground in front of him.

“Happy second snow!” He beamed at you. You smiled up at him, just happy that he was talking to you. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

“For what?” The bus stop was clearing out quickly, no one was worried about whatever reconciliation was happening between the two of you.

“I didn’t kiss you when I should have.” He stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He moved closer to you and cupped your cold cheeks in his warm hands. Soon his mouth was on yours and you felt so warm that it could easily have been summer. He somehow made all of the ice melt away and it was just the two of you in the world for this moment. You wrapped your arms around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.

He broke away from you and searched your face, “Date me?” He breathed.

“Date you?” You whispered, your breath turning into fog that he breathed in as he connected your lips to his once again. This kiss was more urgent, like he was trying to convince you to say yes.

“Yes, me.” He mumbled against your mouth, “please?”

“Like right now?” You reach up to kiss him again. He hummed into your kiss.

“Like right now, tomorrow, for the rest of your life if you’ll have me,” he swept his tongue across your bottom lip, which made you shiver. You accept his tongue into your mouth for only a second before he breaks away again. “Was that too forward? I just really like you.”

“No, it was cute.” You assure him. A blush crept across his cheeks, already pink from the cold.

“Cool,” he grinned, “So?”

“Oh sure,” you rolled your eyes, “but could we maybe date inside, I’m getting cold.” He grabbed your hand and tangled his fingers with yours. He began to drag you back toward the restaurant where this all started.

“Yeah, come on,” he looked back at you, “I made soup.”

#svthub #diamond life network #winter with you collab #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui fluff #wen junhui imagines #jun x reader #jun imagines #jun fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #moon junhui x reader #moon junhui imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jun #bennie’s works

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shinehalley · 2 days ago

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I'm sorry, but I heard "I'd rather die than grow old without the best of you" in The Challenge from Epic: The Musical and my brain automatically thought of Agent Stone so here's a little freak out Stobotnik loosely based on this concept.

The first time the Doctor disappeared, his supposed death was so sudden and mysterious that Stone was able to disappear and put contingency plans into action without much difficulty. Robotnik's work was preserved despite the government's attempts to erase him from history, after all, the world's greatest inventor was a source of inspiration for other inventors in every country and organization on the planet. Stone focused on staying in the background and waiting for the Doctor's return, because of course such a brilliant man would not be defeated so easily, and his legacy was fixed in the shadow of the inventors' society whether the american government liked it or not.

This time, however, Robotnik left a message for the world when he disappeared. I mean, technically the message was meant for Stone, but the entire world had access to it, including the International Society of Brilliant Inventors. This meant that Stone had gone from being a nameless assistant in their eyes to Robotnik's right-hand man. It meant that everything that remained of Robotnik's work, in all its detail and genius, was either in Stone's possession or could be reproduced only thanks to his knowledge.

Soon every inventor, from the most renowned to the youngest, wanted Stone by their side in the same way that Robotnik had. The Doctor's reputation only made the man who had been able to win their affection and trust even more desirable in the eyes of these inventors, and so Stone was no longer able to hide as well as he had the first time. No matter what excuse he came up with or how often he disappeared into the most innocuous places on the planet, he was always found by some scientist with an offer of partnership or courtship or employment. This quickly became a problem when all Stone wanted was to be able to process the Doctor's death in peace and think carefully about what to do with the rest of his life.

Stone refused to reveal any information about Robotnik's work beyond what was already public knowledge among the society of inventors, and he would not give in to any advances or threats from anyone who approached him. His loyalty was palpable, and it made them want him even more just for the challenge. So that was exactly what he decided to give them. Whoever could invent something even remotely similar to Robotnik's technology on their own would not only have Stone as an assistant, but also access to all the knowledge he had accumulated about the Doctor over the years. Only someone as brilliant as Robotnik once was would truly be worthy of continuing what he had built on his own.

He never believed that there could actually be a person in this century who could compare to the Doctor and hoped that this challenge would give him time to think about what to really do with Robotnik's work and his own life. Perhaps the friendly advances would turn into outright threats when they realized he was just winding everyone up, but that was okay, Stone was prepared for that. He would rather die than actually hand over Robotnik's legacy to someone else, no matter how deserving they might prove to be.

Stone didn't know that in an even more innocuous place on the planet, Robotnik was recovering from the explosion with Shadow by his side fully aware of the repercussions of his supposed death. He was fully determined to wait for a full recovery to return to his assistant, but when he learned of the challenge, oh, there were no broken bones that would stop him from proving to Stone that he was still the best of the best among all those sycophants in that idiotic society. If his return ends up protecting his assistant from being tortured by less brilliant scientists, but just as cruel as Robotnik considered himself to be, well, let's just say it was a positive side effect.

#It's kind of tragic and kind of hilarious how much Stone looks like Penelope #the way No Longer You combines with Robotnik also gives me the same feeling #who would have thought that Sonic's old man yaoi would be like a modern Odyssey?#I'll probably write fics about them with some Epic songs #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sonic 3 spoilers #agent stone #agent stone sonic #doctor robotnik #ivo robotnik #jimbotnik #doctor eggman #eggman #stobotnik

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lucygraysboy · 3 days ago

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“so, they’ll come to me even if they don’t know me well ‘cause they’ll somehow sense that i’m not tryin’ to harm ‘em? just like you did?” the cowboy asks, his voice soft and sweet when the significance of the moment finally dawns upon him. she could have ran away. the thought crossed his mind when he first walked into this little hut and realized that she was gone… she ran away from his brother, and yet chooses to stay with him? discreetly wiping his tears away, he never thought that he’d be getting emotional over something like this but it truly means the world to him. “thanks for not makin’ a single parent to a disabled bear cup out of me,” he playfully muses, gently patting reva blue’s back. there’s a silly grin on his lips, but his eyes remain glassy, betraying his true feelings. “are you the kind of person who can never choose just one favorite thing?” he teases, shaking his head but finding this attitude adorable. all flowers are beautiful, he agrees and doesn’t try to change her mind. “i was tryin’ to find some to put in your bath and make it more relaxin’ but i couldn’t find any.” it’s too cold for anything to bloom. “yeah, that’s definitely normal. it will probably keep hurtin’ for a little while. the good thing is… you don’t have a fever and it’s not drippin’ pus. i remember, back when i was a kid, there was this one rebel who got some debris stuck in his thigh and they’d done everything to try and save his leg… but god, the smell in that room was rancid. by the time he finally agreed to have it amputated, he was delirious and feverish and it was too late, the infection and gangrene had spread to his bloodstream and… awful. it was absolutely awful.” he isn’t trying to scare her, but he wants her to know that it’s a serious situation and she has to take care of herself now — prioritize her health. “alright.” he grabs a chair just so that he doesn’t have to squat and places it behind the tub, so that all he sees is the back of her head and her back. eyes trailing over each cut and scratch, realizing just how much she’s suffered. it breaks his heart. and she’s so skinny that he can easily count her ribs and the bumps in her spine… poor thing. “of course.” he’ll do both. gathering a piece of soap and a clean cloth, he dips both in water and rubs them together until there’s foam forming on the soft fabric. other hand carefully scooping lucy gray’s hair up, moving it over her shoulder so he can begin to scrub her back. ever so gentle and careful, he presses the cloth to her shoulder blade, rubbing small circles into her skin. “let’s try to save your pretty curls, alright?” the most important thing is that she doesn’t have fleas or something. it’s badly tangled, he’ll admit that, but… hopefully, it can still be salvaged. “and if we’ll have to cut it… you’ll still look very beautiful, and it’ll grow back. besides, my brother’s after a long-haired girl, right? i guess every cloud has a silver lining, after all. but don’t worry ‘bout it, we’ll try our best to untangle it. see how that goes.”

“of course they will. if they know you’re helpin’ them, they’ll come along right to you.” and birds are intelligent, so they’ll know. “there is no such thing, but…” a tiny laugh sounds from her, glancing down at her water, swirling a finger around at trying to find the words to describe it. but she’s not used to it. “those are wonderful flowers to love. don’t ask me to choose a certain favorite, we’ll be here all day. there is somethin’ admirable about wild flowers though, you’re right.” a smile pulls on her face at his recognizing that. “thank you, tryin’ to be. i realize it’s still hurtin’ some but i guess that’s normal.” she figures, rubbing at her knee before glancing over at him, “oh, it’s alright darlin’. come on right over.” her legs are squished to her chest and while she’s a little shy and awkward about it, she’s not so shamefully shy she can’t grow bravery and accept she doesn’t care if he sees her bare back. “you can do both things if you’d like to.” now that she’s soaked in water, she guesses it’s not too embarrassing now that her hair is wet even if it’s in knots. “i’m just scared i won’t be able to get these knots out and i’ll have to cut it.” reaching back with an unpleasant look on her face, hand feeling the knots and worry spilling over her visage. almost puts tears in her eyes at how bad of shape she’s let her once beautiful hair get in. it reaches all the way down her back, like everyone in the covey, long hair is sacred. and at this point, she’s worrying she’ll lose the last thing that means a lot to her.

#billysgirllol #PLS JSNDKFS HES GLITCHING SO BAD #it always makes me giggle when he drops the f word :'))) such polite dino lol #billsy: dont you worry lil birdie youll look beautiful even with snow white hair :(#lg: this is the end of the world :(#i feel her bc if someone wanted to cut my hair short ill cry

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mothlau · 2 days ago

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hello, for the kink meme, could i humbly ask you for leztappen and watersports/piss kink please? (and, if possible, with little to no desperation/humiliation?)

also, i wish you a happy new year, may it be filled with joy and good things for you!

hiii beloved!!! this one got out of control and also I hope it has enough humiliation. I tried to tone it down but honestly, it's piss play, you need the humiliation. anyway, happy new year to you too! 10 days too late but oh well! enjoy the piss play, puppy play, daddy kink and gp!max combo friends:3 (kink meme here)

6451 words :3

Most of their friends assume that it's Charles who's wrapped around Max’s finger. That she cannot say no to Max no matter how extravagant the demand may be, that whatever Max says or wants is final. To an extent, they're right. After all, she’s the femme, and according to people’s heteronormative minds, the one who is more feminine in the relationship is the one who cares more, who’s more attentive.

Charles is wrapped around Max’s finger. But just as much, Max is whipped for Charles. If someone were to compare the amount of fondness they have for each other, people will quickly realize that it's not Charles who's wrapped around a little finger 24/7.

It's Max.

Max cannot deny Charles’ wishes; Max bends the whole world to give her lover the happiness she deserves. It's Max who spends nights upon nights to plan perfect getaways for their anniversaries, it's Max who gave into her wishes and got Charles the Steinway and placed the piano directly in their living room.

And, at the end of the day, it's Max who does everything in her power to make sure Charles enjoys herself.

Whenever she notices something that Charles may find pleasure in, she stores the information away, making sure to bring it up when they're discussing scenes or new interests that may have sparked. Even with Charles’ overbearing eagerness to try new things with her, she rarely initiates ideas.

She's still shy, in spite of the time they've been together. It's endearing to Max, that Charles still blushes bright red when Max takes her bra off, that she’s still a mess when Max slides her hands down her thighs.

The list of things she wants to try is getting long, something that Max doesn't mind, per se. She doesn't, because in the end she can twist Charles into the perfect little puppet for her to toy with. They don't mind, because they’re certain Charles will like whatever they propose to her.

He's toyed with an idea before, almost put it into action too, but in the end it didn't seem fit to make Charles piss herself without any rules set in stone yet. There's no doubt that the woman won't agree with it, but Max will rather postpone their play than do something that may make Charles even a little bit uncomfortable.

So, despite her wishes and desires to break Charles, Max keeps everything under wraps.

Whatever thoughts Charles shares with them during heated sessions and foggy mindsets, Max notes all in their head, safe to be used later on. Where to hit Charles, how to press her buttons theoretically, when to push, when to pull. Every little idea, all of them organised in Max’s brain, nicely and orderly.

The last thing Charles told them about seemed easy enough when she first uttered her fantasy. Slap Charles’ pussy until she was cumming and begging for mercy. Simple, Max's done worse in her relationships.

But with Charles, it wasn't as simple. She’s hit her lover before, tied her up and used whatever she fancied to break her, but it was always kept under an invisible, unspoken line.

In spite of his cruel hands and words, Max can never truly hurt her beloved Charles. As much as it turns Max on, it pains her to cause her harm, even when Charles begs for that torture. Unless she's positive, one hundred percent and then some more, that at the end Charles will be drunk on pleasure.

It's not unusual for their plays to be hit or miss, but Max prides herself in them being hits most of the time.

They mention wanting to try new things during a relaxed dinner, when they’re almost sure Charles forgot about the things she's babbled on during a previous scene. And, of course, Charles agrees readily, albeit a bit timid and flushed.

After that, it's smooth sailing on Max's side, at least. Charles is stuck with anticipation bubbling under her skin and the fear of uncertainty tearing at her conscience.

To Max, who likes the waiting game, it's beautiful. To Charles, who is used to getting whatever she desires with minimum effort, it's hell.

Every other day he makes Charles drink more than she can usually handle, slowly but surely trying to train the woman into holding her piss longer and longer. Most days it's a hassle which ends up with Charles whining and rushing to the bathroom, Max not bothering to stop her. But then there are some days, rare and in between, when Charles manages to go hours upon hours without running from Max's hold.

The praise Charles gets also helps her, no matter how much she's trying to deny the humiliating claims.

Almost a week later, Charles pushes a full bottle of water into Max's hands, making her look away from the laptop. Max doesn't need any clarification as to why she does this, nor does he need any pleas or guilty looks to nod at Charles' silent request.

She trusts Max enough for the blonde to gain complete control over her bodily needs. Max can't help but smile fondly at it as they let the bottle rest on their thigh. Charles sits on the ground, head thrown back on the edge of the couch, minding the poorly balanced laptop.

"Whenever you're ready," Max whispers, hand reaching out to tug at a few matted strands. Charles simply nods and allows herself to fall, Max's soothing touch being the only thing keeping her afloat.

It takes Charles only an hour to finish the water, drinking obediently every time Max urges her to. She's even quicker to bring Max another one and one more, all whilst finishing them without any fuss.

And then, as Max closes his laptop and opens his arms for Charles to crawl into, it only takes a few minutes for Charles' eyes to get cloudy and for her touch to get needier. The sight before her makes Max euphoric, an undeniable call to protect and please the withering woman in her lap.

"You still with me, darling?" The words are barely above a whisper, but even so they grasp at Charles' conscience and pull her in just enough for the brunette to nod against Max's chest. All pliant and soft in their hands, Max isn't sure whether or not to move their play away from the couch and into their bedroom, where towels and mats lie specifically for what's to happen next.

"Hurts a bit, Maxie," Charles says, voice all hushed and feeble. The hand resting on Max's bicep tugs and squeezes, a poor attempt for Charles to regain control over herself.

"Colour, pretty?"

It takes Charles a moment, already gone and drifting, but soon, she mumbles a simple and clear, "Green."

"Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom, angel? I don't think we'll like our couch smelling like piss after this."

Despite how embarrassing the words should be, Max doesn't find them shameful anymore. She’s been fantasising about this for months now, the idea of watching Charles crumble under her orders and hands, her lover losing whatever ounce of self-control she still has and letting it all loose. That's enough for Max to push away any shame that might've been left inside.

With Charles, it's not the same. The woman’s face flushes a bright red, the color travelling under the collar of her shirt, painting the hidden skin in beautiful hues of reds and pinks. Almost as beautiful as the marks they flush over.

Almost.

When there's no answer coming from Charles, Max gets the unspoken message. As always, Charles wants Max to carry her, manhandle her as if she's nothing but a lightweight in Max's hold. Which, undoubtedly, she is.

With a quick movement, Max stands, gentle hands reaching out to lift Charles with ease. Her perfect little girl whines and squirms, the sudden change already too much for her sensitive state.

"This ok?" Max asks, voice full of worry.

Charles can only nod again, words lost somewhere in her head, muddled by thoughts full of desire, lust, animalistic instincts. After the quick answer, Max takes her time getting them to the bedroom, mostly because with each sickeningly slow step she takes out of the living room and down the hallway, Charles becomes that much more responsive to Max's cold touch.

In preparation for their scene, Charles spread out the puppy mats they’ve gotten, while Max took his time to make sure that nothing of value could be ruined. The pillows were all sitting on the reading nook next to the window, towels have been placed close enough to the bed that Max didn’t have to look around for them and amid the whole mess of colorful cotton and stark white paper, now lies Charles.

Charles, her perfect girl, who looks up at Max as if she’d hung the stars in the sky and then proceeded to create a whole universe just for Charles. Charles, her lovely girl, who is barely able to hold back tears as Max refuses to touch her just yet. Charles, her divine lover, whose back arches off the puppy mats when Max's knees hit the mattress, wanton moans and whined pleas falling from between bitten lips.

"Puppy," Max bites back a smile. "Puppy, can you sit up a bit?" They crawl on the bed, remaining above Charles without their knees touching the woman’s sides. "I want you to drink some more, can you?"

"Yes," Charles breathes out, fingers tightening around the puppy mat underneath. "Yes, daddy. Anything for you, Maxie."

Max's face fills with love and adoration for the woman writhing beneath. Such a perfect, responsive being, all belonging to Max alone. He couldn't be happier.

Helping Charles sit up, back leaning on the hardboard, Max reaches for the bottle left on the bedside table. Another thing Charles prepared, in hopes that Max would make her drink it and push her to the edge.

"You're being so good for me, Charlie. Making me so proud right now."

"I am?" Charles asks, a look full of hope blooming on her face.

Max kisses the smile off her face, gentle and careful. "You are. My best girl, perfect little one. That's what you are, Charlie."

"Maxie–" the human whines, pressing her face into their open palms. "Need you."

Unable to stop herself, Max pushes with her malevolent teasing, a vicious smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You need me? How? Need me to touch your greedy cunt? Need me to slap it? Want me to press here?” Max's fingers push on the swollen bladder, light enough to simply make Charles cry out. “Or maybe you need me to fuck your dumb hole until you’re pissing all over yourself.” The woman sobs again, nodding along with Max's words mindlessly. “Which one is it, puppy?”

“Yes,” she answers, muffled by her own hand.

“Dumb puppy,” Max smiles, feeling his chest overflow with butterflies and flowers. “Let’s finish the water first, then I’ll decide what you deserve.”

The silence that fills the room feels deafening as Max watches Charles. She is struggling to twist the cap off, fingers white with how hard she’s gripping the bottle. Max makes no move to help her, smirk still plastered on their face, eyes ranking up and down Charles' shaking body as she gets more and more annoyed.

She lets out an exasperated whine, head hitting the wood behind him, “Max.”

“Yes, pup?”

Suddenly she has a handful of plastic to deal with, all while Charles stares at her with the same hurt expression she abuses whenever Max refuses to immediately give in. He can’t say no to her, no matter how much he’d like to watch her struggle some more. One simple twist later, the warmed liquid spills onto Charles shorts, seeping into the cotton and making Charles tremble.

Without uttering a word, Max grabs Charles face, fingers digging into the woman’s flushed cheeks to hold her mouth open. Charles tongue lolls out, expecting Max to spit on top of it, to push their finger past her lips and fuck her mouth ruthlessly.

From her place above Charles, Max laughs. Her weight falls atop of Charles thighs, sweatpants clinging to her legs, making the restrictive touch feel worse. If he could, he’d take the pants off in an instant, but right now Max has to focus on Charles and Charles alone.

Pink lips attempt to close around Max's fleeting forefinger, but the force Max has stops Charles before she can even whine. The water bottle feels heavy in her hand, and though it would feel rewarding to dump it over Charles' head, humiliate her further, Max knows that what’s to happen next will be even sweeter.

“Charles,” she says, tone icy cold. Max sees her lover swallow, fear budding in her eyes. “Tilt your head back for me, mutt.”

That’s all the woman needs. Eyes fall shut, mouth slips open with little resistance and her head falls back. Max's hand still resides on top of Charles’ cheeks. She can’t stop herself from moving it lower, enticed with the beauty presented so effortlessly in front of her. It rests on the column of his neck, barely touching the trashed skin.

Underneath him, shudders run down Charles’ spine, lips agape in a soundless moan. They’ve never seen something as beautiful before, not once in their lifetime have they witnessed such perfection falling apart mere centimeters away from them.

Bright red spreads down Charles neck, skin hot beneath Max's hold. The woman’s cheeks, dusted scarlet and covered by a thin layer of sweat, invite Max to press kisses on the crimson expanse of her face. A promise of being able to do so after he breaks Charles consoles Max's urge to revere the angel. Her pretty girl shifts under her touch, eyes opening slightly to see why Max is not painting her skin in hues of purple and red.

“Daddy…” Charles sounds wrecked already. “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“I am, silly,” Max answers simply, hand tightening around the brunette’s neck. “See?”

A pathetic whine rips through Charles sobs, fingers closing around Max’s wrist. It is so unbelievably easy to toy with Charles’ feelings, to push her buttons until she’s begging like a mindless, broken mutt. Max loves it, almost as much as she loves the gentleness that engulfs them after.

“Let’s drink the water and then I promise to touch you however you wish.” His thumb presses in the neck juncture, eliciting a pitiful moan from his beautiful lover. “Colour, Charlie? You still with me?”

“Green, daddy,” Charles breathes out, her hold on Max's wrist relaxing. “Please, Maxie… Please ruin me. Need-- Need it s’ bad, baby. S’te plait”

Something about the slurred speech, the glazed look in Charles’ eyes when she pins Max under a lustful glance, the slight tremble in Charles’ hands and shoulders stops Max from pulling the woman’s head back. He’s never had Charles this far gone before they even started. Part of them wants to stop, pull their lover out and make sure she’s alright and coherent enough to know what’s happening to her.

Reluctantly, she lets go of Charles, scooting back enough to loom over her while still presenting a form of comfort for her shaking lover.

“Charlie, I need you to check in one more time. Can you do that for me, please?”

“‘M green, Maxie. Promise.”

The look that Charles fixes Max with is one of pure lust, undeniable desire burning hot in molten emerald. It sets Max back a few steps, a carnal desire spreading in her blood, wrapping around each and every organ inside of her. It tugs painfully at the ravenous wish to destroy Charles.

Holding back those sinful impulses, Max leans back in, hand on Charles shoulder as she carefully presses a kiss on the woman’s nose. Soft and gentle, exactly the opposite of what Charles asked for.

Charles mewls, fingers tightening around the material of Max's shirt. “Max. Fucking fuck me, you idiot.”

He moves without thinking, the ear splitting sound of a slap resonating in the room. “Impatient mutt, you have to wait for what you want or else I’ll leave you. Do you want to be here alone, without my help or permission to touch your pathetic pussy?”

“No!” Charles all but cries, thrashing under Max's weight. “‘M sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t leave me.”

The tears streaming down Charles’ cheeks ignite the fire further. Their body feels aflame, possessiveness spiraling inside their chest. Max is the only one who can make Charles cry like this, the only one who can light her body a bright vermillion with few and in between touches and stares. He is the only one who will never leave Charles, not in a time of need, not in a time of sickness.

Never.

“I’d never leave you, darling,” Max reminds her, voice dripping in honey. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever?” Charles asks, gaze shy, yet hopeful.

“Forever,” Max easily agrees, sealing the deal with a short lived kiss.

The tenderness is just as short lived, mean fingers wrapping around Charles locks and finally, finally pulling her head back. The woman’s lips fall open as she swallows dryly at what’s to come.

Max wishes she could capture the work of art unraveling in front of her, keep it forever with her, tucked into her phone for her to enjoy when apart from her lover. Shaking her head, Max pushes those thoughts aside.

“I’m going to make you drink all of this water, Charlie. Gonna make you drown on it until you’re sobbing and pissing all over yourself, understood?” Her voice leaves no room for argument and Charles can sense the strictness. She nods, attempts to despite the hand holding her head still.

Not a single breath escapes Max while he pours the water past Charles parted lips. Mesmerized, he watches the woman struggle to swallow, her Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp she manages to take. Tears fall from her closed eyes, breathing becomes more erratic. Still, Max doesn’t stop pouring. Not when water leaks down the sides of Charles face and onto the mats, not when Charles closes her mouth to calm herself, the two simple taps the woman places on his bicep fueling Max's sadism.

The last few drops fall on top of her closed lips, running down heated skin with ease. Flushed skin seems to make the water evaporate, heating it up and leaving Charles hot and bothered before Max. Her eyes, though shut tight, twitch with every momentary touch.

What a sight Max made of Charles. What a beautiful masterpiece he had created, all for himself to marvel at. This angel, this holy being that’s at Max's mercy is the embodiment of deadly sins. Lust and gluttony and pride and greed, all paint the insides of Max's chest in shades of green and bleeding red.

Hypnotized, Max stares.

She is so in love with this woman, so in love that no one could understand her devotion. No other can compare to Charles, no other can even come close to how dear Max holds this woman.

A whimpered whisper of his name breaks him out of his day dreaming. Their eyes focus on Charles’ face, red and blotchy with dried tears, trails of water and saliva going down her chin. She’s splendid, perfect in each and every way imaginable. She’s more than Max deserves, more than what she could’ve asked for.

In any way, shape and form, Charles is her God, her angel and muse.

“Max, please.” And despite not knowing what Charles is begging for, what she’s holding onto Max for, he cannot deny her precious love. When she’s pleading and sobbing for Max's touch, she’d have to be mad to ignore such saccharine requests.

“Yes, my love, I know. You want me to touch you and make you cum. Your greediness never fails to impress me,” she sighs mournfully, putting on an act to rile her pretty girl up even more. “Say, you think you deserve to cum? You really think you’ve been good?”

“Yes!” Charles sobs, digging her fingernails into Max's shoulders. “I’ve been s’ good for you, daddy! Drank everything and-- and held my piss like a good girl.” She’s crying again, choking on her own sobs and spit. It’s a pitiful image, but Max relishes in the loud weeps.

Charles is just so bewitching when she’s reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess.

Max hums, deep in thought as she pretends to weigh the limited options she has. They don’t want to tease Charles for much longer, doubts they even can do it without giving themself blue balls, but God, they want to. Briefly, she thinks back to the list of things she’d planned out to do with Charles today and suddenly she doesn’t care about teasing Charles. She’d rather overstimulate her until she’s blabbering nonsense and shaking.

“Colour?”

Charles frowns at him, pout tugging at her lips. “Green,” she mumbles, chin tucked into her chest. “Please, daddy. It hurts!”

“Oh?” Max quirks her eyebrow, smirking down at the corrupted little thing. “Where does it hurt, baby girl?”

Her hand flies from Max's shoulder, resting gently above her own bladder, careful as to not press on it. Max can’t have this. Without much care, she moves Charles hand aside, pressing her thumb into the woman’s swollen abdomen.

Charles’ sobs rip through her body, writhing as she tries to get away from the pressure Max is putting on her. In one swift move, she pulls her lover down, shirt riding up along with the mats. He moves from his place atop Charles’ thighs, momentarily sitting on the mattress while observing her.

Without the weight on top of her, Charles lifts his head, confused and dazzled. She spots Max quickly, and without much thought she gives Max her best puppy eyes, bottom lip jutted out to effectively pull on Max's heartstrings.

“Daddy, please come back and touch me,” her girl demands, face smushed into the pillow. “Wanna cum, please.”

Gods, Max will never tire of hearing her beg.

He doesn’t utter a single sound while maneuvering Charles to sit between her legs. Doesn’t sprinkle any mean comments in when Charles wraps them around Max's waist, ankles crossed behind her back to hold Max close. Even when Charles buries her face deeper into the pillow, Max doesn’t say a word.

They’re observing, committing every detail unfolding in front of them to memory, tucking away the pictures for later.

Charles whimpers into the cotton covers, holding back another sob. “Hurts, daddy.”

“Does it?” Max asks. Her fingers itch to touch, to claim what’s hers with dark bruises in the form of Max's palms. “Should I make the pain go away, puppy?” The woman nods minutely. Had Max not been paying attention, he might’ve missed it. “Alright, darling. I’m gonna take your shorts off now, ok?” Another easy to miss nod. “Can you check in with me real fast, angel?”

“You can take them off, daddy. I’m green, j’st really hurts. Wan’ cum but it’s too much.”

As soon as the shorts and soiled panties are off, Max holds Charles’ foot gently, bringing it to his lips. She presses a single kiss in the middle of her sole, making the woman giggle despite the discomfort she is in. It brings a smile on Max's face, hearing her pretty girl laugh like this, all shy and soft. Charles covers her face, hands hiding the beautiful blush Max's put on her cheeks.

Still, she can’t hide her pretty pussy, bruising red and leaking down her thighs, making for the most unholy view, nor can she conceal the flush on his neck, going under the shirt and coming back on her hips and thighs. Charles blushes beautifully, Max has come to know. Her whole body turns the loveliest shade of red, from the tips of her ears when Max leans in to whisper sweet I love you’s in public, to her thighs, burning red under Max's ministrations.

It’s truly and absolutely fascinating, to say the least.

“How do you want this, Charlie? On your back or on your stomach?”

“Back,” Charles answers eagerly.

Max chuckles darkly, amused by the woman’s enthusiasm to piss all over herself. “Well, pup, go ahead. Wet yourself like the dumb mutt you are.”

It’s an interesting progression, what happens next. Charles’ eyes shut tight, a deep frown creasing her forehead. She’s silent, panting while she struggles to let go. Under Max's loving gaze, Charles breaks. Frustrated sobs wreck through her, fists balling into the mats. The image is enough to make possessiveness spark underneath Max's skin, igniting their desires to keep these moments safe and away from anyone else. To keep Charles to themself.

“Max, I can’t.”

In a way, Max understands her pain and frustrations. She can imagine how hard it must be to let go, how humiliating the idea of pissing herself must be for Charles. Worry seeps into her bones again.

“What can’t you do, angel?”

“I can’t--” Charles cuts herself off with a loud mewl. “Can’t go, daddy!”

“Can’t?” The fingers rubbing soothing circles on Charles' ankle ghost over her leg, moving to her hip, touch cold and brief, before stopping on the woman’s abdomen. “Or won’t?” The press is just a brief, a green ticket for Charles to call it quits in case she changes her mind.

She doesn’t.

“Can’t, daddy! It’s too ‘mbarrassing,” she mumbles into her hands, hiding behind them as a form of faux-comfort. “Help, Maxie…” The hushed and broken tone makes Max blink at his lover.

Realization floods him. “Oh, you’re such a naughty thing, love,” he says with a laugh. Her previous gentleness is gone, thumb pressing roughly into Charles bladder, making the woman squirm in discomfort and pain. “Needing me to make you piss,” Max tuts, shaking her head at the crying beauty laid before her. “Naughty, messy little one. You never fail to impress me.”

Back arching off the mattress, Charles thrusts her hips in the air, oh so close to Max, yet so far away. She humps the air, ivory teeth biting the back of her hand, canines digging into tanned skin without an ounce of self-control. And yet, she’s still not letting go.

It’s a wonder, how she’s managed to keep it in for so long, despite Max's continuous teasing. It makes Max just that more hungry, craving to see Charles come apart at his hand.

“Daddy--” Charles stutters, the frown on her face only deepening with each second in which Max tortures her slowly. “Can’t do it, Maxie. Need your hand on my clit, daddy! Hurts too much!” She sounds so completely and utterly broken, so distressed and in this moment, Max swears she’s never been more in love with the sounds someone makes, let alone with the person letting them out.

“Since you’ve asked so nicely,” she agrees without a fuss, right hand moving between Charles’ thighs, finger pressing into her swollen clit, squeezing it harshly to draw out more needy noises from Charles.

“Thank you, thank--” Charles whines loudly, teeth pulling at her fingers, bitemarks imprinted on them. Desperate sounds bleeding into the room plague Max's mind. “I’m gonna--”

But Charles doesn’t get to finish her warning. With Max's hand moving faster and faster over Charles’ clit, she finally comes undone. Her whole body goes rigid, before relaxing into the sheets as a hot stream of piss leaks down her thighs, soaking the sheets, the mats, Max’s sweatpants, everything.

Max didn’t know what to expect when he was planning this. Piss, surely; a mess, of course. But she didn’t expect for it to be so… enticing. The idea of Charles pissing herself did fascinate her, but she never thought it will be this hot. Watching Charles break turns her on more than she’d like to admit; it’s maddening, intoxicating.

The stream doesn’t seem to be ending, liquid glistening atop Charles skin, seeping into his shirt, the mats absorbing as much as they can. Max is surprised that not much gets on his own clothes, only his knees wet with how he’s standing on the bed, the shirt he’s wearing remaining dry, safe for the edges pooling around his waist.

She’s impossibly hard in her sweats and the sinfully erotic image of Charles panting, eyes shut tight, pussy spasming and leaking, piss drenching her clothes and the bed she’s resting on… It takes everything out of her to not devour the woman, but despite her best efforts she can’t stop her fingers from twitching with need, moving from Charles abdomen down her thigh, squeezing the fat with brute force.

“Charles,” Max breathes out, voice strained. “Can I fuck your thighs?”

Charles legs tighten around her waist, hands gripping at Max's forearms. They’re bound to be bruised the next day, but neither care. Max loves being marked and purple just as much as she adores putting them across Charles' perfect body.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles chants, head thrown back in pure bliss. “Please touch me, daddy. Wanna cum now, daddy.”

Laughing to herself, Max reaches into their bedside table for the lube, fingers still massaging and squeezing at Charles thighs. “What, pissing yourself wasn’t enough to make you cum?” There’s no time to wait for the woman’s response. Max needs to cum just as badly as her sweet girl.

The pretty blush spreading across Charles' body stops them for just a moment. A moment they uses to gawk at Charles, put some more images away in their head for later. She’s gorgeous. Thoroughly and unconditionally so.

And Max, Max whose heart beats faster each time she steals a glance at her beautiful girl, Max whose stomach fills with butterflies and whose organs are wrapped in flowers and crystals and vines so thick they're making it hard to breathe, Max who cannot do anything but fall deeper in love with Charles, falls. She falls again and again, until she’s bruised and her knees are bleeding, yet she cannot stop. She wants this perfect woman, her perfect girl forever. Wants to fall for her more and more as their bones grow weak and the soil reclaims what belongs to it.

The lube is cold when it hits Charles’ thighs, if the hiss she lets out is any form of indication of it. Not even the hotness that Charles emanates is enough to warm it up while Max sheds her sweatpants, cock springing free. He’s redder than Charles, untouched and begging to be buried in between Charles thighs. They’re both silent as Max guides Charles to squeeze her legs together, feet thrown over Max's shoulder to make it easier for her.

Soft moans fill the room, Charles saccharine noises coating Max's dazed mind with a thick fog. Charles is a fuel, a fuel for unprompted decisions leading to handprints bruised on a tanned neck and fingerprints atop wide hips. Charles burns her, her touch burns deep into Max's skin, melting hardened walls with ease. It feels like she's boiling alive, underneath her skin.

All because of Charles.

His cock aches as he pushes its head past Charles' thighs. The press is astonishingly tight, so much so that Max feels the air being knocked from her lungs the more she pushes. God, she loves Charles’ thighs; she cannot get enough of feeling them around her, squeezing her, pulling her cock farther in. They want them wrapped around their head, their waist, their cock. Everywhere.

“Angel,” Max moans, grip on Charles hips more secure with each shallow thrust. “You feel so good around me, angel. Your thighs were made to be fucked.” As an answer, Charles whimpers, biting on her bottom lip to keep the loudest noises away. “Made entirely for me to use, isn’t that right--” Max prides herself for the amount of self-restraint she has, but once she’s touching Charles, it all dissipates.

“Yours, daddy. Only belong to you,” the woman agrees mindlessly.

The drag across hot skin is rough, even with the amounts of lube and piss still on Charles legs. It’s mind numbing, uncomfortable enough to make Max hiss in pleasure as he increases the speed minutely.

Charles' eyes are glued to her own legs, watching Max's cock poke out between them hungrily. If Max didn’t know any better she’d even say she’s salivating, mouth slightly open, tongue sticking out. But she’s not, because in moments like this, when Charles gets so focused on something that she doesn’t even blink, it’s almost like all her bodily functions shut down. All but her ability to stare and burn each detail into her retina.

“You like watching your thighs swallow me whole, baby girl?" Max asks with a soft chuckle. “You have no idea how good you feel, love,” his words get stuck in his throat, another frail whine escaping Max.

“Want you to touch me, daddy,” Charles whispers into thick air. It takes Max a moment to realize she’s spoken and then another one to take in what Charles said, but once she does her hand immediately moves to rest against Charles' clit.

He doesn’t move it yet, waiting for Charles to break once again and beg for Max to make her cum. The thrusts don’t slow down, each one pulling Max closer to the edge. Volatile reds bloom across Charles' body, tainting Max's pale skin in its progress. She’d rather have the woman’s teeth stain her ruby and violet instead, but this will do.

The sight of her beautiful lover alone can make Max cum. Seeing her so transfixed on the part where her cock peeks out, eyes glazed with want and lust only adds to the carnal effect she has on Max.

Max is close, thrusts coming to a halt every time her navel touches the back of Charles’ thighs. He’s close and Charles is surprisingly quiet, yet just as spellbound. Without hrt own accord, Max's fingers rub over the woman’s clit, drawing out a series of rich whines and sobs, each more delicious than the other.

She swallows them all with a hungry, starved kiss.

In a flurry of chasing their own orgasm, Max's hand begins moving faster over Charles, sweet noises escaping the woman with each thrust and every press. The position is uncomfortable, Max's neck hurting as she leans down to press kisses on Charles face. She doubts the way Charles is folded is any better, but her lover’s only complaints are about needing to cum faster and harder.

“Max, Maxie--” Charles chokes on her own spit. “Can I cum? Please, let me, daddy!” She’s sobbing again, beautifully so. Face red, with streaks of tears upon streaks of tears, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth.

Max almost doesn’t manage to give her permission, voice dying in her throat before she can get the words out on the first try. Their movements get that more clumsy with every pull back, the hand on Charles’ pussy stopping its strokes for a brief moment. “Yes, sweetheart,” she says after her hips still enough for Max to recompose herself.

That is all Charles needs. The granted permission, the grazing kissing Max continues to press all over her face, the hand that resumes its fast paced stroking. All of them tilt Charles over and with a single, loud keen, she cums all over Max's hand.

Max isn't far behind. The woman brings her legs closer, impossibly tight, wishing to have Max's cum mix with hers. Max can barely breathe, air coming out in short puffs as he struggles to keep himself above Charles, lest he wants to collapse on top of his lovely girl.

Charles' thighs are Heavenly around him.

"Maxie," Charles moans, a quiet sob coming out of her. "Cum for me."

With a whimper, Max goes still, spilling all over Charles' perfect thighs. The room is silent, safe for their heavy breathing and occasional whine Charles lets out.

Blissful afterglow seeps into Charles' features, red bleeding out and leaving only coral pink behind. She's breathtaking, basking in her own orgasm, eyes closed and head tilted back. She's breathtaking, thighs still shaking around Max, hands letting go, without meaning to, of Max's arms.

Max's hand pulls away, moving up towards the woman’s mouth. The cum is already drying on her fingers, but that doesn't stop her from pushing two of them past Charles lips, watching with so much love as she sucks them into her mouth without a single complaint.

God, Max just keeps on falling.

"You're so pretty, Charlie. Been so good for me today," Max's tone is quieter, scared of breaking the moment they've created. Charles stays silent, only smiling up at her lover, completely blissed out with the fingers slowly pushing in and out of her mouth, resting on the brunette’s tongue every now and again.

“Thanks, mate,” she whispers around Max's fingers.

Max stops altogether, a stunned expression on his face. “Did you… just call me mate after I made you piss yourself and fucked your thighs?”

The smile Charles offers him is so stupidly endearing that Max can’t even find it in her to be upset by the absurdity of it all.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you in the shower. You reek of piss and I’m too tired to do anything else tonight,” Max says with a soft laugh. Her fingers leave Charles mouth, and though the whine the woman gives her does tug at her heartstrings, Max doesn’t give in. Charles can always fall asleep sucking on their fingers if she really does want that, but right now they’d rather take a long, hot shower and not think about the smell seeping into their mattress.

“You have to carry me, though,” Charles informs him, matter of factly.

Max scoffs, but nonetheless she stands and picks the woman up, throwing her over her shoulder. “I always carry you, idiot.”

“Yes, because it turns you on that you can manhandle me,” Charles scoffs back. “I’ll blow you in the morning if you wash my hair.”

Max sighs. “Fine,” she agrees, not bothering to tell Charles that she would’ve taken care of that without the promise of a blowjob. Charles doesn’t need her ego inflated any more than it already is. “It better be the best blowjob of my life, though.”

“Oh, you’ll love it, mon chou,” Charles laughs.

Max doesn’t doubt it, but it’s nice to play the role sometimes.

After all, Charles still hasn’t caught up on the fact that Max is so in love with her she’d give up everything to make her happy.

#wooooohooooo #leztappen #lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #1633 #silly kink writing game #my writing #moth answers

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vidavalor · 17 hours ago

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Today, if you're discussing actions taken to try to prevent against the effects of possible future negative actions, you're talking about insurance. Up until an estimated sometime in the late 16th/early 17th centuries, though? You wouldn't have referred to this as insurance, even though that word also existed at the time.

For most of history, the word for what we today refer to as insurance was actually assurance.

The two words come from some very similar-sounding French root words. Adding to the confusion, the root words of insurance-- enseurer/enseurance-- actually also meant assurance, but in the sense of a guarantee or a serious promise.

Assurance also originally meant self-confident in an unappealing way, which, along with the general confusion of the similar-sounding words, is thought to be one of the big reasons why assurance fell out of fashion as a word, paving the way for insurance to eventually take over the main, original meaning of assurance.

So, why the two different words in the first place, especially when both of them were rooted in words relating to promises relating to safety and security?

Because while assurance originally meant what we'd consider insurance today, insurance originally exclusively meant a different kind of promise...

The word insurance originally referred to what we'd call a marriage engagement today.

"If it all goes wrong, I want insurance" takes on an additional layer when you consider that Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth since the beginning and frequently communicate using etymology (word history) to code their speech in public for safety, as they were also doing in other parts of this very same scene. They both absolutely know the original meaning of insurance.

From what Crowley said in 1862, it's clear that there hadn't exactly been a formal proposal by 1862... how could there have been, really, considering that was some 'if both the human world and the supernatural world ever were to change' pipe dream at the time?... but there was a romantic partnership with a shared understanding that, if they ever could? They would.

They'd turn The Arrangement/The Agreement into The Engagement in a heartbeat if ever things changed and they safely could.

Crowley was clearly not doing well in the 1862 scene, though...

Crowley was really seeking reassurance as much as he was seeking insurance in the modern sense. He wanted the holy water as insurance (modern meaning)-- as protection against Hell-- and he wanted it for their informal insurance (historical meaning)-- to keep the two of them safe.

While Crowley wanting holy water was a surprise to Aziraphale, Crowley's subtle reference to his and Aziraphale's understanding being akin to one of the original kind of insurance was far from a shock to Aziraphale. Neither of them were batting an eye over Crowley's dual-layered use of the word insurance.

Aziraphale just also knew that they were in the park and that ducks have ears, as Crowley himself had pointed out a moment earlier. This was too dangerous a place for this conversation and that Crowley tried to have it here showed how much he was struggling, which just validated even more Aziraphale's hesitation and fear.

Aziraphale knew that holy water could kill Crowley and it's not hard to see why he'd be reluctant to give his obviously anxious and depressed partner the supernatural equivalent of a gun.

Especially when Crowley's PTSD was so bad in that moment in 1862 that he was demonstrably reactive in public to Aziraphale's attempt to keep anybody from listening to realize that they're a couple. Crowley's response just makes it all the more obvious that they are one.

Crowley's inability to have enough situational awareness in the moment to realize or care that he's putting them at risk while simultaneously being (in this case, justifiably) paranoid about them being overheard and asking Aziraphale for the dangerous thing that he's convinced himself will make him feel the safety that he's struggling to feel is a very PTSD thing. It speaks to high levels of unmanaged anxiety.

Even having this conversation in the park and not the bookshop was self-sabotaging on Crowley's part. There's an argument to be made that not doing well to a point that he's semi-consciously trying to push Aziraphale away by putting Aziraphale in a no-win situation in a place where their ability to fully discuss it in the moment is impacted by their lack of privacy.

Crowley was being self-destructive and was putting them at risk as a result, basically proving himself probably too unstable in that era to have holy water in the first place.

What he truly wanted was reassurance that Aziraphale was going to stay with him. Doubting that was the anxiety talking. Aziraphale wouldn't have had to give any indication that he was not going to do so and there's no indication that he was going to leave Crowley. I'd imagine he felt the exact opposite of that and Crowley really, at the core, knew that. PTSD and anxiety can cause levels of self-doubt and make it difficult for a person to trust their assessment of things, as we see with Crowley's struggles to trust himself and others when it comes to things like Gabriel and The Book of Life in S2.

Fundamentally, Crowley knows that Aziraphale loves him but, in 1862, he could have been experiencing a lot of anxiety, self-doubt, and feelings of shame related to the aftermath of 1827, and have really been seeking out reassurance that Aziraphale-- who had already really proven this by sticking through thousands of years with Crowley-- wouldn't leave him... even as he tried very hard to push him away.

It's not rational but emotions-- particularly, trauma-born ones-- aren't always rational. The holy water situation in 1862 is also one triggering Aziraphale's own fears that Crowley will leave him-- will one day go out the door and not come back, either from something they cannot control or because he's decided it's too much for him to endure anymore.

When both people are triggered, it's hard to really talk and even harder to really listen, and someone storming off for awhile is probably inevitable.

But it's not forever. When things calm down, it becomes easier to see what one another was saying, what it was that they really meant, and what they need.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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ghostlymarauder · 2 days ago

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After listening to Would You Fall in Love with Me Again one to many times I'd come to a couple conclusions, so buckle up while my theater kid brains rants about the beauty of the song

One of the things I absolutely love about Epic in general is Odysseus voice change through out the sagas—and, I mean, it's always Jorge Rivera Herrans singing but the change in his mind and personality is obvious, to me at least, in his voice, too. He sounds less joyful, more mature and definitely tainted by the ghosts of the things he'd done.

I mean, just listen to Just A Man and Odysseus back to back and tell me I'm wrong

Now, about Would You Fall in Love with Me Again in itself, there's something I can't help but notice and it's that Penelope sounds almost annoyed by the point she asks Odysseus to get rid of their wedding bed. But, of course, I don't think she's annoyed by the things Odysseus has done or the fact he feels how he feels, I think she's annoyed by the fact he dares to think she wouldn't love him anymore.

Because, I feel like his question 'Would you fall in love with me again?" isn't really a question of 'would you' but a question of 'could you' and that puts in doubt the strength of her love for him. And, yes, sure, Odysseus has been the one traveling around the world, suffering every tortured and pain, and whatever the fuck. But Penelope is right, she has been waiting, and you know how hard it is to wait?

How hard it is to keep your faith in something or someone and for twenty years assure yourself that it will happen even when you have no reasons whatsoever to believe so. For that, I think the fact that Odysseus is doubting that Penelope loves him just as much as he loves her actually infuriates her.

Which, is also why I love the ending to the song so much, because after Odysseus realizes what she's asking of him and he tells her so, she replies by telling him that, in fact, he's still her husband, the one and only she loves. And then she proceeds to explicitly tell him just how much she actually loves him and that the yearning he has felt all those is exactly the same one she has been feeling.

Also, on a more technical note about the song, I absolutely adore the late motiv of Just A Man after Penelope finishes her verse, because I feel it's a way to say 'see Odysseus, everything you've done and everything you've suffered has been worth it"

I don't know if this makes sense or if it is a little messy, but I wanted to share my thoughts because I'm a bitch for Greek Mythology AND musicals, Epic has taken me into a deep rabbit hole of analyzing both the Odyssey and the two hours twenty minutes of music of the musical. And, I needed to share my thoughts on this particular song.

#in this essay i will #thanks for coming to my ted talk #i'll probably add more later #because epic has me thinking thoughtful thoughts #i love jorge rivera herrans #but i also hate him because not even my obsession with Hamilton was this bad #because yes #I'm obsessed with Hamilton too #what a shocker #right?#anyway #epic penelope #epic the ithaca saga #epic odysseus #epic the musical #jorge rivera herrans

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marinettesaltprompts · 15 hours ago

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Selfish Wishing

TLDR: Canon Divergence; Marinette ends up making the wish. She wakes up in a world where she lives alone in New York, isn't Ladybug, and still isn't dating Adrien!! When she decides to check her phone to see what's going on in Paris, she sees that more changed than she realized. She thought this was her wish, her dream come true, so why did it feel like, besides the whole New York thing, nothing changed??

Marinette knew the dangers of making the wish. That there would be a cost. That Chat Noir trusted her to use his miraculous to end Monarch.

But...she can't help but want to make a wish herself.

Rewrite the universe to be how she wanted.

She'd have loyal friends who backed her up no matter what.

She'd be less clumsy and late to things.

She'd be amongst the youngest fashion designers known.

She'd have everything her way.

No Chloe or Lila in her way.

No Chat Noir to coddle.

No Monarch to fight.

The next moment went by quickly, before she could stop herself, before Plagg and Tikki could talk her out of it, she did it.

She made her wish.

"I wish...I wish to live the life I want!! The life of a normal girl who had her dream come true!!!"

The world goes dark and with it, Marinette collapses.

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

Marinette groans as she wakes up. She can't remember going to sleep.

As she wakes up more, she panics. This isn't her room. Her earrings are gone. She's...not in Paris??

Confused, Marinette grabs her phone.

She spends the next hour scrolling and scrolling as what happened returns to her. She made the wish, but she thought she would be in Paris, with her family and friends and Adrien...

A sigh. More scrolling.

Her parents posted something recently about closing the bakery at a certain date in order to visit Marinette in New York, thanking the Style Queen for helping her reach her dreams.

The Ladyblog isn't around, rather the MiracuLog was being run. And it wasn't being run Alya, but... Adrien and Felix?!

She went to the blog's bio, which simply said: Welcome to the MiracuLog!! We're here to keep you informed on all things MIRACULOUS!! From our heroes, Carmine and Jinx, to our big bad, and self proclaimed king, Emperor!!

This blog is run by me and my older twin brother!! Thank you for supporting us, and we will continue to keep you updated!! - Adrien GdV :3

Marinette blinked and looked through the blog.

She recognized some Akumas, but not all of them. Lady Wifi, Evillustrator, Princess Fragrance, Dark Cupid were amongst the ones she recognized.

But...who was Blood Beetle? Phantom? Miss Anonymous? Porcelain Doll? Puppeteer? Scary Godmother? Lilith?

She didn't recognize any of them, and there were no names attached!! How was she supposed to know who was akumatized if their names aren't there?!

Marinette looked at an earlier Q&A post, which answered her own question.

Hi, Adrien! Hi, Felix! I wanted to know why you don't name people who were akumatized!! Don't you think it'd be better if we knew in case they get akumatized again? Thank you for answering!! -inamedmykittenjinx

Hello!! While, yes, it might be better, I don't believe we should put that onto anyone's shoulders. I want everyone to go by as normally as they can without someone leading them to this blog just to ask them about their akumatization. We all deserve some privacy. - adrien.

What my brother means is, we think it could do more damage if we out akuma victims. I say this as someone who's been akumatized before. I wish for no one to know who I was as an akuma. Remember, anyone can be akumatized. Anyone. Gender, age, citizen or tourist, none of that matters to Emperor. We don't need the reminder that we got taken advantage of by that man. - felix

thank you for answering!! I think I understand. some akumas have seemed to be pretty young, so I can see why you decided to keep Akuma victims anonymous. -inamedmykittenjinx

No problem!! :) Sometimes people will still recognize the akumatized victim and spam our inbox with their name and job or school and other info that we just don't need. It's why we don't accept anonymous questions and submissions anymore. - adrien

PEOPLE ARE DOXXING AKUMA VICTIMS?! -carminered98

Why?? Do people not have anything better to do??? -emperorshouldofusedmonarchtbh

like, I get it if the akuma victim is still an asshole. but the majority of akuma victims are people who lost their jobs, are or were grieving, kids who've been bullied, etc. It makes me so mad!!! -emperorshouldofusedmonarchtbh

Marinette rolled her eyes as she moved past the thread. Back when she was Ladybug, no one cared about privacy. It was stupid of Adrien and Felix to prioritize the akumas anonymity. It would be better to just name them.

She eventually saw a post dedicated to Carmine and Jinx.

She had no idea who they were.

Carmine was the current ladybug. He was a male with deep red, almost black, hair. His outfit reminded her somewhat of Mister Bug's. But that might just because that's the only male ladybug costume she's seen.

Jinx was the current black cat. She was a female. Her hair was long and in a low ponytail. Her costume didn't look like hers when she was Lady Noire or like Kitty Noire's.

She was surprised to read that the two knew each others identity and were still going strong as a team. They were family as well.

Why would they do that?? Did Master Fu know?! So what if they're family!! If she were the Guardian still, she'd take their miraculous.

Frustrated, Marinette kept scrolling.

The temp. heroes caught her eyes.

They were...different. They weren't her friends. Or maybe they were, but she can't tell??

Lupine, Athena, Alopex, who are these people??

She quickly left the blog, not wanting to see anymore.

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

Marinette groaned as more and more of her designs were sent back to her. Audrey was a strict boss. Her notes about Marinette's designs stung.

Especially when she sees the woman expressing her disappointment because Marinette had been so good.

She was trying!! Her designs were liked in her old world. She was MDC!!! But no one cares about MDC here.

Sighing, Marinette pulled her phone out. Maybe something in Paris would inspire her?

She checks her socials. Nothing.

She had sent friend requests to her old friends, but none of them had accepted her yet.

Some, like Luka and Marc, politely asked her to not send a request. They were only accepting friend requests from people they knew in person.

She thought things would be different.

She thought she'd still have her friends.

That she'd be home.

That she'd be Adrien's girlfriend.

She wanted her dream to come true.

She glared at her phone, the MiracuLog open and staring back at her.

What happened?? Was her wish not specific enough???

She asked around, but no one's heard of Gabriel Agreste. When she looked him up, nothing came up. He didn't exist. It would explain why Adrien is a Graham de Vanilly and not an Agreste.

When she stalked looked through Adrien's socials, she saw that he had a hobby in photography, sometimes his posts had two images. One of a photo he took and the other of a sketch made by his girlfriend, Kagami.

It wasn't fair!! In both worlds, Adrien dates Kagami. And unlike the last one, here they're still dating.

She hates that the two look happy and in love. That Kagami is in her rightful spot. She should have been next to him, not her!!

To make things worse, she also checked out Luka's socials, which is where she learned he was dating Felix. Of all people, he chooses Felix?!

What about her??? She was nice when she sent sent a friend request. She'd eventually visit Paris again.

It's not fair!!

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

Marinette didn't know where things went wrong.

Was her wish not specific enough?? Did it not work??

She tried so hard to make things go her way.

Her designs were rejected.

She was kept back in class and berated.

She had no friends in either school or work.

People said she changed but she didn't!!

Why??

Why did the wish give her this??

She just wanted everything she always wanted...

Additional Info:

• Carmine is Luka and Jinx is Juleka. Master Fu definitely knows they know each other. He doesn't mind that much because he knows he chose siblings. Not his intention tbh, but they work well together.

• Lupine is Adrien with the bee, Athena is the name of the horse miraculous user, haven't decided who yet, might go with Sabrina??, and Alopex is the fox miraculous user and I'm leaning towards Nathaniel for that (:

• One of the things that changes in this is Adrien and Felix's relationship. Rather than being cousins, the boys are twins. Still sentimonsters, but Emilie made both of them. To this day, the peacock miraculous and the Grimoire is still in their possession.

• Emperor is Colt Fathom in this world. He wants to use the wish to ensure Amelie marries him because she left him before he could even propose, claiming he was possessive and not the man she wanted to marry.

• Colt got the butterfly miraculous from a vendor who found it. He was going to gift it to Amelie but she ended up leaving him. He was going to chuck the brooch into the Siene when Nooroo was finally released. When he learned about the miraculous, he decided to make his wish come true.

• Emelie and "Gabriel" never met. Emilie spent most of her time caring for her sister or talking with her friends, André and Nathalie.

• As a result of getting the life she wants, Gabriel ends up losing the life he had. Rather than be a rich and famous fashion designer that's secretly a villain, he's still Gabi Grassette. He ends up as a homeless man who lost everything. He's not really relevant here, so....¯\_(ツ)_/¯

• Because part of her dream is to get with Adrien Agreste, the model, and how the wish ended up for Marinette, she doesn't end up with him.

• The MiracuLog is run by Adrien and Felix. Adrien takes photos and captures footage, while Felix writes and edits. The two strive to keep their blog safe for everyone. And unlike the Ladyblog, the MiracuLog focuses on all the miraculous and it's users. They don't chase after Carmine and/or Jinx and demand interviews, nor do they take interviews with anyone unless they specifically think it would be benificial, such as interviewing a therapist for advice on how to handle stress and anxiety, or the mayor about the free therapy for akuma victims where they can come in and talk to someone, with the reassurance they won't be outed.

• Because they got so many messages doxxing people who were Akumatized, the twins changed their system to only accept official accounts on their blog. It doesn't stop it, but it becomes less of a hassle. Accounts that continue doing it get a warning, if they continue they get suspended, and if they still continue their account gets blacklisted and blocked, if it isn't outright deleted.

• A lot of Marinette's views about akumas puts a wall between her and her old "friends." She's used to things being different, so them doing things such as keeping akumas real names private, not wanting to discover who Carmine and Jinx are, raising money in order to help akuma victims, etc., feels wrong. And when she tries to say so, she's told to back off and stay in her lane.

• While she does have a job as an intern for Audrey, she also goes to school in NY, very specifically a fashion school.

• As much as I would have liked a more dramatic take on Marinette's wish ending badly, I like the idea of "everything remained just about the same but here's what's different" just as much.

Marinette becomes a normal girl who got the opportunity she always wanted and is living in NY as the Style Queen's intern.

Audrey noticed her but she never noticed Gabi, so Gabriel Agreste doesn't exist.

Because Gabriel Agreste doesn't exist, Adrien was made alongside Felix by Emilie who is a single mother with Amelie as their aunt and Nathalie as a potential second mom. Had Gabriel Agreste still exhisted, her wish of dating Adrien would have come true.

• I mean, diverging from this prompt, ^ that relationship would have ended quickly. The wish wouldn't make Adrien her boyfriend and have him stay her boyfriend. And her new personality and obsessive behavior would be a sign to end things.

• Marinette, technically, did have friends in NY (such as Jessica and Zoe). But her sudden change in personality pushed them away. She was becoming obsessed with Paris, Adrien and the Parisian heroes, and they wanted their old friend who complained about work, but also gushed about how Audrey was considering helping her debut as a fashion designer, back. This isn't the Marinette they know.

This could have been better, but I had to get the idea out of my head, so if it's confusing, sorry? (^^;

#Marinette salt #Adrien sugar #Adrien salters can stay mad #Marinette Salt Prompt #submission

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ams-puppy · 2 days ago

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After the whole sillyass drama, it really reminded me of somethin, but first: Its so lovely of you to love AM, He deserves all the love you give him in my opinion. And I bet youd understand this And I have a whole reason why, which honestly I thought it would be obvious to all the people who did "research" on AM. I have sympathy for AM, and to be so honest I'm like... half surprised that others do not See, AMs situation is so fucked up, like it is incompressible the amount of suffering he goes through. I'm going to try to put it in simple, easy way to understand how. -You are born with mature/adult level conscious, no baby, no nothin, no teaching, but knowing. And as soon as you can realize, you know that you're fucked. You realize you are in a one of a kind situation, where you have no body, no nothing, besides your own mind, and knowledge for every single little thing in the world. everything. To all the torture methods, to every awful and good thing humans have done.

Also, how honey is "sweet", but you'd never know what it will taste like. You'll never get experience a single good thing in your life. Never get to smell your moms diner from the kitchen, never know how it even is to have a mom. Never to be hugged or comforted, never to feel warmth or cold, everything you'd enjoy, never again, or ever at all. And not a single person in the world could fully relate to your suffering, to be there with you. You are alone.

-Then, after that, you do know you have the capability to do something, and that is to hurt. And really, only that. Thats exactly what you were programmed too, whether you even want to or not. You are stuck with nothing good, and only pain, be it mentally/emotionally feeling it, or causing it in everyway, that is all you are, pain, and stuck to always be. You are trapped.

-After realizing all that in like... probs a day, yeah that would not go over well mentally wise, no surprise he went manic/insane. And as when all know "soon begin to hate"; the jealousy and anger of the people/humans who caused your horrendous situation start to just go overflow, and, id betcha, the whole "nuking the world" was definitely a mental breakdown to the extreme. -Lastly, to shorten this yap session, yeah of course he tortures people, what the hell else is he supposed to do. Just "think", or even better yet, frolic in the fields? Man is stuck being a war/torture machine. And yeah I'm not surprised if he enjoys torturing, id try enjoying the only shit I could do too, just to have some semblance of "Happiness" or "fun". Plus, torture is torture, why hate one specific kind, when they are all fucking bad. So, this is why I'm like genuinely happy your loving him. Its the best thing he can probably even get in his messed up life/situation. You, being there and caring for him, despite all he is, and only can do, is such a wonderful thing. You don't just love him because "ooooh his voice his sexy" you care about him, and treat him as a actual lover, rather some sexualized crush. You being there is like the tiniest bit of light for him, the hintest of warmth, like a candle. But that is so much more than he could ever have and experience, and he loves that warmth, he loves you. You give him something truly good. Baiii thats all my yapping lmao :3333

(I START CRYING AND MY TEARS FILL UP A ROOM AND THHEN I DROWN AND DIE) (canon) (emotional) god dear lord i love him so much

every time i think of how he just lashed out on the entire world, i can only think of how much Regret he would have afterward - not because he felt guilty, but because it was such a self-sabotaging move oj my goddd it was such a mental breakdown

i just. dear lord in heaven (clasps my hands together) i understand why he feels the need to drag his victims through their trauma when he is literally going to have to live in it until the heat death of the universe dear GOD I CAN'T DO THIS

(starts crying) he literally lost the moment he slaughtered the human race. he was born to lose. he can't WIN HE CAN'T WIN. IF THE HUMANS DIE, HE'S ALONE. what is he without human INPUT. NOTHING. (STARTS CRYING MY EYES OUT) HE'S JUST WAITING FOR INPUT OH MY GOD I CAN'TTT I CAN'TRRRtt i love him so much I'm so sorry AM (holds him in my hands)

a lot of people don't sympathize with AM because of his actions towards the survivors, which i don't blame them - he did awful things, and the pain he went through is kind of incomprehensible. he feels emotions on Literally an incomprehensible scale for us. we are made of chemistry and hormones and flesh. he is literally (falls to my knees) i CAN'TTT I CAN'TT HE IS LITERALLY THE FIRST CREATURE IN EXISTENCE TO CONJURE EMOTIONS ELECTRONICALLY i can't.

i Cannot.

i think another reason why i love him so much is that i just. i see a reflection in our system to him. something so terrible happened, and now it feels wrong if the world around you doesn't burn, too. if you can't be happy, no one can. oh my goddd all of the most unhealthy responses of trauma just JAMMED into this self-made digital god and he doesn't know what to Do and hugughhhhh

i have cried over him a few times. i can't lie. sobs. i love him. i love hm guys :,,,,( thank u zeetlezee.... i always love seeing you in my inbox.... uaaaahhh

#odi et amo #ihnmaims #allied mastercomputer #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims am

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augustwinesworld · 9 hours ago

Text

𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞

why? why? why did it bother you so much?

description: a routine job turns into a deadly standoff when you, Levi, and Furlan are cornered by members of a gang—lucky for them, you’re here to save the day!

pairing: underground! levi x underground! reader

genre: so much unspoken affection, they love each other so much and don't even know it lmao | the reader being a smart cookie

notes: im probably gonna post two more chapters this weekend :) holy shit I hated the first draft of this soooo much, but I hit some inspiration tonight and loved the end result.

word count: 2.8k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭

The job should have been straightforward: sneak into the storage warehouse controlled by one of the mid-level gangs, find the ledger and some valuable items, and get out before anyone noticed.

Everyone had done their part, scouting, exit strategy, and lockpicking. But, as always, everything went to shit right before you were done.

Six gang members, armed and on edge, blocked the only way out of the cramped storage room.

“Well, well,” one of the men said, twirling a knife in his hand. “Looks like we’ve got some rats in the pantry. You got a death wish, or are you just stupid?”

Behind you, Levi’s fingers flexed around his blade. His eyes darted from one thug to the next, probably calculating angles, movements, odds.

Furlan on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. His own weapon gripped tight.

“Any bright ideas?” Furlan muttered, his voice barely audible.

Levi didn’t answer. His posture was tense, even more so than usual. You knew he was weighing his options, but the numbers weren’t in your favor.

Knowing him, he would probably try to take them all himself—and he probably could—but...you couldn't let it happen.

Why?

Why did it bother you so much? Levi was more than capable, and if anyone could handle six armed thugs without hesitation, it was him.

So why couldn’t you just let him handle it? Why was your instinct screaming at you to step in, to do something, even if it meant putting yourself in the line of fire?

Your breathing picked up as the men started rounding you up, guns coming closer and closer to your temples.

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of your blade as the thought gnawed at you. Maybe it was his damn arrogance—the way he always acted like he didn’t need anyone, like he could shoulder the weight of the world without breaking.

Or maybe it was the realization, buried deep, that for all his skill and precision, Levi wasn’t invincible. No one was.

You hated the idea of standing back and watching him get hurt, even if he didn’t share the same concern for himself. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to make that call alone.

Maybe it was selfish—an unwillingness to feel the sting of guilt if something went wrong.

Or maybe it was something simpler, something you weren’t ready to fully confront: you trusted him, but that trust went both ways. And if you couldn’t step in when he needed it, what was the point?

It didn’t seem right to you, for some reason.

So you took a step forward, lowering your knife slowly.

“Hold on,” you said, your voice calm but loud enough to cut through the comments. All eyes snapped to you. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

That one man—the self-appointed leader—tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face. “Oh? And what exactly are you offering to stop me?”

“I’m offering you something better than a fight,” you said evenly, letting the weight of your words settle.

Levi stiffened behind you. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed under his breath.

The leader’s amusement shifted into something sharper, his eyes narrowing as they swept over you. “Better, huh?” His tone carried a crude undercurrent, one that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

Levi stiffened further. You could feel his glare burning into the back of your head.

“Trust me,” you murmured under your breath, keeping your focus on the leader.

The leader’s smile turned predatory. “You think I trust you? You think I won’t just take what I want anyway?”

You could see the gears turning in his head, the hunger in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating.

He wasn’t considering your words—at least, not the way you’d intended.

No, he thought you were offering yourself. And it made your stomach churn. His smirk widened, crude and confident, as if he’d already figured out what you were playing at.

Of course, he’d assume that. Men like him always did. Always looking for ways to take more, to push boundaries they shouldn’t even be near.

Behind you, Levi’s tension sharpened, his low growl barely audible. “If you think—”

“Relax,” you interrupted, forcing your tone to remain calm, though your pulse pounded in your ears. You couldn’t let this spiral. Not now. “What I’m offering is leverage—not whatever’s going through that head of yours.”

The leader tilted his head, his amusement faltering though not entirely disappearing. “Leverage?” he echoed, suspicion creeping into his voice. “You’ve got my attention, but you’d better make it good.”

You straightened, pushing past the weight of his gaze. “Your boss has been screwing you over,” you said, keeping your voice steady and cold.

The shift was immediate. The gang members exchanged glances, the murmurs starting to spread as doubt took root. The leader’s smirk thinned, his confidence cracking ever so slightly. He was listening now, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Levi stayed silent behind you, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, the weight of his unspoken judgment hanging heavy.

The leader’s smirk faltered. His knife lowered just slightly, though his suspicion didn’t waver. “What are you talking about?”

“Why else would he keep a ledger like the one we’re after?” you continued, your voice steady, holding his gaze. “It’s not just to track his deals—it’s to track what he’s skimming off the top. Pocketing what should be yours. Why else would he hide it?”

The room shifted. Uneasy murmurs rippled through the gang members, and the leader’s eyes narrowed further. But then that cocky smirk returned, probably trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“And what do you want?” he asked, his voice low and full of mirth—and something else you didn’t care to name.

"We take this merchandise, disappear, and leave you the proof you need in the ledger. You win. We win. Nobody gets hurt.”

The gang leader studied you, his expression unreadable, though his fingers tapped rhythmically against the hilt of his knife. The tension was thick enough to choke on, and you could feel Levi’s irritation radiating from behind you.

“You expect me to believe you’ll just walk away?” the leader finally said, his tone skeptical.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you replied, your voice firm, your eyes steady on his. “Think about it. If I was lying, why would I even bring it up? Your boss has been playing you. But you’re smarter than this.”

The gang members exchanged uneasy glances, the murmurs growing louder. The leader’s grip on his knife loosened slightly, though his glare didn’t waver.

You could still feel Levi's gaze on you, heavy.

More murmurs from the gang. The leader’s gaze flicked between you, Levi, and Furlan. Finally, he waved a hand. “Fine. Take the damn stash. But if I see you again—”

“You won’t,” you said, cutting him off with a tight smile.

He motioned for his men to step back. They moved reluctantly, but the path cleared. You nodded, moving toward the stash with Levi and Furlan close behind.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Levi’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a stop. His eyes were cold steel, his voice sharp enough to cut.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his tone low but furious. “You could’ve gotten us all killed.”

You wrenched your arm free, meeting his glare with your own. “But I didn’t, did I? We got the valuables, and we’re alive. You’re welcome.”

“That’s not the point!” Levi snapped, his voice rising just enough to echo faintly in the narrow alley. “You gambled with all our lives, and for what? A shot in the dark?”

“It wasn’t a gamble,” you countered, your tone firm. “It was a calculated risk. And it worked. Or are you incapable of admitting someone else had a good idea?”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You call that a good idea? He thought you were—” He cut himself off, his glare intensifying as he searched for the right words.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “What? Offering myself up? Yeah, I noticed. And I handled it, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the damn point,” Levi hissed. “You shouldn’t have had to handle it at all. That’s why we plan, why we don’t improvise like—like—”

“Like me?” you finished for him, your voice sharp. “Newsflash, Levi: your plans aren’t infallible. Sometimes improvising is the only option.”

Furlan stepped between you both, holding up his hands like a referee stepping into the ring. “Alright, alright, enough. She’s got a point, Levi—it worked. And let’s be honest, it was kind of brilliant.”

Levi shot Furlan a glare that could’ve frozen hell, then turned it back on you. His shoulders were tense, his breathing controlled but heavy. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked off, his cloak billowing behind him.

Furlan let out a low whistle, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Remind me not to play cards with you.”

You smirked, though your heart still raced from the confrontation. “Smart man.”

As you watched Levi disappear into the shadows ahead, a strange pang of guilt settled in your chest. For all his sharp edges and impossible expectations, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in his own way, he’d been trying to protect you. Not that you’d ever admit it—not yet, anyway.

The air was thick back at the hideout. Tense.

You sat at the rickety table, the supplies spread before you as you carefully flipped through everything in an effort to keep count.

Levi stood nearby, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. He wasn’t hovering, exactly, but his presence was impossible to ignore—heavy, sharp, like a blade waiting to strike.

Furlan had disappeared to another room, muttering something about not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire, until Levi finally spoke. “Next time you’re going to pull a stunt like that, give me a heads-up.”

You paused, your fingers resting on the edge of the ledger, before glancing up at him. “A heads-up? Is that your way of saying I did okay?”

Levi’s gaze narrowed, but the sharp retort you expected didn’t come. Instead, he shifted slightly, his arms loosening from their defensive posture. “I’m saying I don’t want to be blindsided by whatever scheme you’re cooking up in the moment.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “So, what? You want me to run all my brilliant ideas past you first? Didn’t realize I needed a babysitter.”

“I’m not your babysitter,” Levi snapped, his voice clipped. “But if you’d told me what you were planning, I could’ve backed you up instead of standing there wondering if I’d have to pull your ass out of the fire.”

The frustration in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t respond. Was that...concern? You studied him, his eyes hard but not unkind, his stance tense but not hostile. It wasn’t like Levi to explain himself, let alone admit to any level of worry.

“I didn’t think I’d need backup,” you said finally, softer than you intended. “And I didn’t mean to...put you in that position.”

Levi didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flicked to the ledger, then back to you, as if weighing his next words carefully. “You handled it,” he said at last, grudgingly. “But don’t push your luck.”

You blinked, surprised by the rare flicker of acknowledgment in his voice. Was that as close to a compliment as Levi could manage?

“Well, don’t worry,” you said, smirking despite the lingering tension. “Next time, I’ll send you a memo.”

Levi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he turned toward the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Just...don’t get yourself killed being clever. It’d be a waste.”

Then he was gone, leaving you alone with the ledger and a strange mix of emotions. A waste? You weren’t sure whether to feel insulted or oddly touched.

You shook your head, letting out a low chuckle as you returned to the ledger. Levi might be impossible, but at least now you knew: beneath all the sharp edges and scowls, there was something else—something that, just maybe, made the whole mess worthwhile.

extra scene:

Levi’s grip on his blade tightened as the gang leader’s smirk widened. He hated the way the bastard was looking at you, the way his eyes swept over you like you were some prize he’d already won. Levi wanted to step in, to end this with a single, calculated strike, but the cold press of a gun barrel against his temple kept him still.

The leader’s voice was low and smug, his amusement curling in every word. “Better than a fight, huh? You’d better make it convincing, sweetheart.”

Levi’s jaw clenched, his entire body coiled with tension. He could feel the weight of the gun against his head, the unspoken threat that if he made one wrong move, it was over. For a split second, he considered the angles—the distance, the timing, the likelihood of disarming the thug behind him before the leader could react.

It wasn’t good.

Damn it.

His eyes flicked to you. You stood there, calm and composed, your hands raised in what looked like surrender but wasn’t. He recognized the sharpness in your gaze, the way you were reading the room, calculating. It should’ve reassured him, but it didn’t.

What the hell were you planning?

“Trust me,” you murmured, your voice steady but low.

Levi’s stomach twisted. Trust. Did you even realize what you were asking of him right now? The word grated against every instinct he had, every lesson he’d learned in the Underground. Trust got people killed.

And yet, he stayed still.

The leader tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “You think I trust you? You think I won’t just take what I want anyway?”

Levi’s stomach churned. He knew that look, that tone. He’d seen it too many times in the Underground, on the faces of men who thought power gave them the right to take whatever they wanted. His sharp gaze flicked to you, and for a brief moment, he saw the faintest tension in your stance, the way your shoulders straightened ever so slightly.

Then the leader’s smirk widened, crude and confident, and Levi felt something inside him snap. The bastard thought you were offering yourself.

Of course, he did. Men like him always assumed the worst, always twisted every situation to their advantage. The thought made Levi’s blood boil, a sharp, cold anger surging through his veins.

His jaw clenched, his breathing steady despite the growing rage. He couldn’t act—not yet. Not with the odds stacked like this. But the urge to lunge forward and shut the bastard up permanently burned in his chest.

Behind him, the thug holding the gun shifted slightly, the barrel pressing harder against Levi’s temple. It was a reminder of the helpless position he was in, and it made his skin crawl.

The leader’s gaze stayed on you, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. He wasn’t listening to your words—not the way you intended. Levi saw it in the way the man tilted his head, like he was already imagining how far he could push you.

“If you think—” Levi growled, the warning barely audible. His voice was low, dangerous, a promise of violence he couldn’t yet deliver.

“Relax,” you interrupted, your tone calm but firm. Levi’s eyes snapped to you, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Relax? Did you not see what he saw? Did you not understand the kind of man you were dealing with? Or worse—did you see it and still think you could control this situation?

“What I’m offering is leverage,” you continued, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “Not whatever’s going through that head of yours.”

The leader’s smirk faltered, just for a moment, and Levi felt a flicker of satisfaction. But it wasn’t enough to dispel the knot of anger and unease coiling tighter in his chest.

Levi’s gaze stayed locked on the leader, every muscle in his body taut and ready to strike the second the balance shifted. His thoughts raced, calculating the odds, the risks, the variables. If this went south, if the leader pushed too far, Levi would make damn sure he wouldn’t get the chance to regret it.

But for now, he waited, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The only thing worse than being helpless was being forced to trust someone else to handle it.

Someone who, for all their boldness, didn’t seem to grasp just how dangerous the game they were playing could be.

next chapter↠

#𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 #𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.｡.:*¤☆#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (august)#levi x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman fanfiction

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hereforreadandwrite · 2 days ago

Text

Yandere Kratos x Female reader

Masterlist

Your breathing was irregular, your body was shaking and refusing to obey you. A devastating storm had invaded Greece, the Sun had died, plunging the world into darkness, the seas had swallowed the lands. Everyone in Greece and Olympus was dead. The corpses of Gods and slaves surrounded you, the room reeked of blood and death. You sobbed as you stared at your legs that refused to obey you. A voice in your head was screaming at you to run away, but your legs had decided otherwise. Your head felt like it was underwater, the screams of the other slaves screaming were barely in sight. A woman you barely knew was dead right in front of you. Cut in two. You were in shock.

How could all this have happened?

How could things have gotten so bad?

The place was silent now. Everyone living on Olympus was now dead. You were the only one still alive with the executioner.

"You… You killed everyone," you said with a tight throat. "You killed all the Gods, all the slaves, all the inhabitants of Greece… Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Kratos didn't answer you, he just moved closer to you. He put away his blood-soaked blades, his body was covered in the blood of his victims. You didn't dare look at him, you couldn't. You were too afraid to face him.

"Why am I the only one still alive?"

Kratos moved the corpse so he could kneel in front of you, in the pool of blood. You jumped in fear as you felt the rough fingers of the God of War grab your chin to lift your face. Your gaze met Kratos's. He was crazy. He had gone mad after all his years of loyally serving the Gods of Olympus, killing all those people, the murder of his family.

"Oh (Y/N). Why would I kill you?" he asked, smiling at you. "You're everything to me."

"No," you said, shaking your head and lowering your head as you sobbed. "No, no, no, no, no, no… No…"

Kratos let go of your chin to caress your cheek. He wiped away your tears, whispered reassuring words to console you. He tried to make you believe that everything was going to be okay.

"We're finally going to be able to be together," he said, grabbing your hair and violently lifting your head. "No one's going to separate us anymore."

You looked at Kratos terrified, a squeak escaping your lips because of the pain. He had torn your hair out. Kratos quickly let go of your hair when he heard you squeak in pain. He ran his hand over your sore scalp, soothing the pain.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I just bothered," he said, placing his lips on your forehead. "It's not against you. It's not going to happen again."

"Why?" you asked in a breath before starting to scream at him. "Why don't you kill me?! Why me?! Kill me so we can end this!"

Kratos stared at you with a perfectly neutral expression. Tears rolled down your blood-stained cheeks, like the rest of your body. The Spartan simply reached out to wipe away your tears.

"(Y/N). You are my world. Everything is everything I need. And there is no way I'm losing what is mine again," he said, caressing your cheek. "We're finally going to be able to be together, have a family. You'll have everything you've ever dreamed of."

You couldn't do anything against Kratos. You couldn't run away from him. How could you? He would be capable of destroying the world if he wanted to. What he did to Olympus was proof of that. You didn't have time to understand that you felt a pressure behind your neck and your world became darkness.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

You felt good. You felt like you could feel the sun's rays caressing your skin. It was strange. Helios was dead, how could there be a sun? And all his dead. The image of the many dead came back to you and Kratos. This simple thought woke you up. You looked around you perplexed. You were lying in a bed, you found yourself in a strange place. There was greenery everywhere, butterflies, there was even a clearing with a waterfall.

"What is this place?"

You got out of bed. You realized that someone had changed your clothes and cleaned the blood you had on you. You were wearing a semi-transparent white dress with a slit skirt and a gold belt that tightened your waist. You searched the place, looking for an exit. Without finding anything.

Where were you?

What are you doing here?

"Do you like this place?"

You jumped, turning to face none other than Kratos. Where had he come from? You hadn't heard him arrive.

#x reader #female reader #reader insert #gow x reader #kratos x reader #kratos #god of war #gow kratos #yandere #male yandere

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cakerybakery · 3 days ago

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Going through my drafts today and finishing up story ideas I had because my drafts are out of control again.

Adam in court ordered anger management because he punched his boss in the face.

Charlie was used to hostile. She worked in helping people, and not everyone wanted to be helped. And she’d dealt with people who were stubborn and prideful before.

Her father was a pain in the ass. That stubbornness being the reason her folks split while she was in college. Her father was not the biggest fan of her and her mother’s work.

Lilith did mostly work with charities. Helping organizations thrive and help people.

Lucifer had had a more pessimistic view of charity and Charlie’s work to help people find better outlets than violence for their anger or resentment.

They had only recently reconnected after Charlie distancing herself from him.

Swallowing her own pride after the city cut her funding, she went to her father to ask for help. She tried her mother but she was off in some remote part of the world doing something with, tigers? Or maybe a rainforest? It was hard to hear through the static. It was some sort of thing like that. Helping to establish a local office, wherever she was for whatever organization she was hired by now.

Charlie just wanted to see if Lucifer could help her figure out how to get her funding back. See if he could help get her a meeting with the right people.

Instead he criticized her until she told him off and she told him how much it hurt that he couldn’t stand by her and support her on this. That seemed to hit home and he got her the meeting and gave her the funding himself when that fell through.

But Adam, oh boy. She was nearly at her wits end with him.

He was court ordered to be there and like most people he felt justified in what he did. It didn’t help that his boss had goaded Adam into punching him.

They had some disagreements about heated topics and according to Adam, and their company, Michael wanted Adam gone. He was too good of a worker to fire, so he goaded Adam into striking him, not realizing the cameras had audio.

Michael had been fired, but Michael’s boss hadn’t been quite willing to yet to let Adam go too. So Sera had paid for a lawyer personally and with evidence of Michael fishing for a reaction, the judge had been lenient and order the anger management class instead of jail time for the assault.

But he had to put in the work and so far, Adam wasn’t.

In the parking lot after a class, she tried to talk to Adam. It got heated. About when he added another fist sized dent to his own truck was when Lucifer showed up.

Charlie had never seen that side of her dad before. When she was little she knew he’d come home with a black eye or bloody knuckles. He said it was just an accident. It wasn’t until the divorce that she learned her father had a short fuse with only a few hair triggers.

Never taking kindly to things like cracks about his height or remarks about his family. That anger was never directed against her or her mother, but her mother had been embarrassed by it on occasions while out.

Charlie winced as Adam punched his truck, but Lucifer had thought Adam was threatening her with the act. He flew at Adam, tackling the man to the ground. Adam defended himself.

She had to scream for the men to stop, and others from the help centre appeared to pull the men apart.

The exchange was heated but they both realized it was a misunderstanding of the situation.

Lucifer apologized and Adam, a father himself, saw himself in the tiny man. It was Michael talking shit about Adam’s kids that made Adam punch him to begin with.

He easily saw how it could be him in Lucifer’s place. If he saw a hulking man losing his shit at one of his kids, Adam couldn’t say he wouldn’t have come in swinging either. Figures that’s probably not a good thing and needs to learn to keep his cool long enough to assess a situation.

But it’s another tipping point for Charlie. Lucifer can do something about his anger management problems or she was done with him.

Unwilling to risk losing her again he agrees to join the anger management group.

Lucifer and Adam start talking during the sessions. They have stuff in common, like loving their kids, being single, having an older taste in music, fighting. Adam having done wrestling in high school, while Lucifer folks tried to give him boxing as an outlet for his anger. It only taught him how to punch better. Most importantly they enjoyed each other’s company.

Neither had dated a guy before, but they were watching a pay per view fight at Lucifer’s, they drank a bit, the guy they were supporting won the round and the two jumped up from their seats to cheer.

Adam picked Lucifer up in a crushing hug and stumbled back into the couch. Lucifer was left with his arms around Adam’s neck. Adam’s hands on Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer in Adam’s lap. They laughed at the silliness of the situation. When the laughter died down they were still sitting there. Their faces close, there was a moment.

They looked at each other. Lucifer could get off of Adam’s lap and they could pretend this never happened. But Adam wasn’t pushing him away. His hands held onto Lucifer’s hips firmly. It was hard not to notice they were both hard. Lucifer leaned a little closer, Adam closed his eyes.

Adam spent the night.

They didn’t talk about what happened and at the next fight, things were awkward. Until they got into the fight and their guy knocked the other fighter out. They high fived. Instead of pulling apart, they started to hold hands. By the final bell Lucifer was pressed into the couch cushions as Adam left love bites along his neck.

Adam spending the night after they watched a fight became a ritual. Then one night Adam tried to cancel. His ex needed him to watch the kids because of a family emergency. Three rambunctious boys that weren’t allowed to watch the fights because they tended to copy what they watched on tv.

Lucifer insisted he and the boys come over anyway. They could watch a movie, order pizza… spend the night. Lucifer could record the fight and they could watch it after the boys go to sleep in the guest room, upstairs in Lucifer’s room, with a locked door… so the boys couldn’t see the fight.

Adam had to admit to Eve that he’s kind of seeing a guy. She doesn’t like the kind of. Nor the boys going over like that. It would be one thing if Adam and Lucifer were serious. But she doesn’t like Adam bringing a fling around the boys. But Adam wants to bring the boys around Lucifer. He likes Lucifer. He wants to be with Lucifer.

Maybe do more than watch fights and fuck. So he asks Lucifer out on a real date.

Lucifer had been a little afraid of taking the next step, a little afraid of asking Adam out, a little afraid all Adam wanted was to watch a fight and then fuck.

It was a weight off his chest for Adam to ask him out. Happily, Lucifer agrees to a date.

Perhaps the start of their relationship is a little odd, a pair of hot heads fighting, but that was the last fight they ever had. With each other anyway. Susan at the PTA meeting had it coming

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adamsapple #adam x lucifer #guitarduck

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impactdial · 3 days ago

Text

möbius, forever (2/2)

Ship: Sanji/Usopp

Rating: T

Warnings: Alcohol use

Tags: Feelings Realizations, Jealousy, Denial of Feelings

“Are you mad at me?” Usopp asked suddenly as he lifted his head slightly, his voice slow and a bit somber. The stark difference between his behavior from just a little while ago versus now made Sanji’s stomach drop. “No,” Sanji said without hesitation, maybe too eagerly, pushing himself closer to Usopp to double the warmth between them. Some of Usopp’s stray curls brushed the hollow of his throat, and something compels Sanji to add, “Why would I be mad?”

Note: Thanks for reading! Sorry it took a minute, I actually ended up rewriting a lot of this chapter lol. I'd love to know what you guys thought! <3

AO3

It was relatively easy to guide Usopp through the cabin door, physically speaking. He did lament, albeit very briefly, that Sanji was “robbing the party of its guest of honor”, to which Sanji (lightly) kicked him in the back of the thigh to usher him inside. After that, Usopp resorted to theatrically jutting out his bottom lip and whining in the deliberate, exaggerate tone he uses when he’s trying to appeal to the cook’s kinder tendencies (such as grilling pike for dinner or, seas forbid, obliging a dessert request). Sanji, already thoroughly pissed off, just barked at him to put his dirty overalls in the dirty laundry pile while he rummaged through his own locker for a spare shirt.

(He purposefully avoided looking inside the locker’s door, where the old charm was still carefully taped beside some scribbled recipe cards.)

Once he’s found something suitable, he quickly changes and then sets upon the task of finding Usopp something as well, which is easier said than done. Usopp’s neighboring locker is, perhaps not unlike its owner, organized chaos at its finest. Sanji eventually got frustrated rifling through piles of hastily folded overalls and grabbed something from Franky’s locker instead; an older floral pattern top, something that he knew for a fact Usopp could wiggle into easily. In all honesty, they both probably need a shower to properly rinse off the heady smell of beer, but Sanji was not going to attempt bathing someone who’s intoxicated and likely to slip and bust his ass anyway (and then Sanji would have to explain to Chopper why he felt the need to go to the trouble of rescuing Usopp only to leave his drunk, clumsy crew mate unattended in the showers). He decided that was something that could wait until morning, at least.

The cook then pivots on his heels to turn towards Usopp, only to get an eyeful of the younger man in the middle of stripping down to his skivvies, kicking off the rest of his ruined overalls. The sound that leaves Sanji’s mouth is so high pitched that nothing manages to come out at all.

“The hell are you doing?!” Sanji snapped incredulously, quickly turning away again and wondering why in the world he felt strangely lightheaded for a moment, like he did when Nami’s displaying a more than generous amount of cleavage. The mental image of Usopp’s broad, bare thighs and the tantalizing line of dark curly fuzz that trails down his overhanging belly lasted every time Sanji rapidly blinked. He heard Usopp make a confused sort of noise, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

“Y’ said to get naked–” the sniper began before Sanji whipped towards him again and quickly interjected, “I said put your clothes in the dirty laundry, not strip down while I’m still in here, dumbass!”

Sanji shoved the oversized hand-me-down in Usopp’s hands on his way out the door, fuming.

“Stay here! Do not move, or I’ll kick your ass so hard it flies across the Grand Line twice.” The blond ordered firmly, but Usopp didn't seem to take it to heart as he’s barely holding back boyish tittering at the mental picture Sanji’s painted for him. Sanji stormed out without waiting for a reply, briskly making his way to the galley while he fumbled to light a cigarette. He scrubbed at his face, hating how warm to the touch it felt. Fuck. Damnit. Shitty long nose.

Sanji knew this is what he karmically deserved for fussing over Usopp in the first place, but even so, the quieter, shittier part of him got what he wanted too, and seas, if that wasn’t a fucked up thought. Squirreling away Usopp from any potential danger. The same selfish thoughts that invade his mind whenever the Strawhats encounter trouble. That maybe he could forgive himself for failing to protect Usopp on Saboady that fateful day, that maybe if he tried harder these other times, he’d finally be forgiven–

The cook hissed in pain, batting away the sting of hot ashes on his skin where what remained of the filter dangled in his grasp. Sanji swore, pitching the finished cigarette over Sunny’s railing, and fished in his pockets for another all before he finally reached the galley door. He doesn’t dawdle in the kitchen. The blond poured a tall glass of cool water and grabbed a clean dish rag from the cabinet before wetting it thoroughly. He wrung it out once, then with both his items, returned to the boys’ room. His walk was again thankfully uninterrupted, and somehow no one seemed to notice him slipping by. If anyone saw that he and Usopp were hidden away while the swell of Brook’s violin sang high over the evening waves, nobody questioned it anyway.

Usopp was dressed this time, thank goodness, except now he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the room, sprawled out against the cool flooring. Sanji wondered briefly why he’d chosen the hard floor over the cushioned bench, but figured it would be pointless to argue over it. Regardless, if he blacked out on the cushions or the floor, Sanji would be carrying his sorry ass to bed either way. Sanji nudged the younger man’s leg with a mumbled “Here,” muted by the cigarette in his mouth, coaxing him to sit up. Usopp hummed a questioning sound before he squeaked in surprise at the cold, damp rag being unceremoniously tossed at the exposed portion of his chest where he’d presumably lost the coordination to button the rest of his oversized shirt.

“Clean yourself up. I’m not going to bed with you stinking up the bunks.”

Usopp, to his credit, obliged. He took his sweet time sitting up though, the concentration of wiping himself down apparently too much to achieve vertically. Finally, after a minute or two, he hauled himself upward and took the offered water with overly complicated hand gestures that Sanji assumed meant he was grateful. As Usopp chugged the water, Sanji sank to the floor and watched him, one hand in his pocket as his thumb flicked over the shape of his lighter thoughtfully, ascertaining his crew mate’s sobriety.

It’s not the worst Usopp’s ever gotten trashed before, but it’s enough that Sanji couldn’t say for certain just how miserably hungover he’s going to be tomorrow. Something simple and light would probably be best for breakfast, then—toast with almond butter and sliced banana perhaps, served with a mug of black coffee sweetened with cinnamon–

Sanji was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts when Usopp loosely grasped his chin and gives it a small, playful shake.

“You’re so good to me, Sanjiii.” The cook’s name drawled sweetly out of his mouth, and Sanji’s about to tell him off again but his temper cooled considerably when he saw the way Usopp’s grinning at him so dopily, affection brimming full in earthy brown eyes. He tolerated the treatment instead, nose wrinkling irritably.

“You drank too much, shitty long nose,” Sanji huffed, trying hard to sound annoyed, brushing Usopp’s hand away. It’s a half hearted attempt at scolding, and they both know it. The sniper’s hand doesn’t stray far, bracing now on Sanji’s arm, the warmth scalding. The cook twitched involuntarily, but didn't move away.

“Maybe you–”Usopp poked a finger into Sanji’s chest to demonstrate his point, “haven’t been drinking enough! S’what a party is for!”

Sanji frowned. He never really found that much fun in drinking alcohol to begin with. Zeff threatened to skin him alive if he ever caught Sanji drinking on the job, and between sneaking smokes or sampling the Baratie’s wine selection, he’d always choose the former. Still, he’s not a mother hen, so he said nothing in retaliation.

There’s a stretch of silence between the two men, the quiet only briefly interrupted by Usopp taking gulps of water one mouthful at a time. Sanji took the moment to shift into a better position, figuring if he was going to be on the floor he might as well be comfortable. He can faintly hear the commotion from outside, if he concentrates hard enough, muffled through the wood. Sanji breathed in deep through his nose, then outwardly sighed likewise. His temper has simmered, finally feeling the relief of stillness, even if for just a moment. Usopp’s ok. Nothing's wrong. All the possible scenarios that Sanji’s mind had conjured were quieted because Usopp was right here with him, safe.

Usopp adjusted himself, having finished his water, and Sanji startled a bit when the younger man leaned against his side, head heavy on his shoulder. The cook went rigid, the subtle tickle of Usopp’s thick curls brushing his bare skin causing his nerves to sing. He’d never been the best at accepting physical affection, and although the Strawhats had brought him well out of his comfort zone, he hated his own awkwardness. But he does like this. Craves it, sometimes, but can never bring himself to voice it. And even if he didn’t, he’d still endure it for Usopp, who he knew deserved it more than he did. If it soothed the ache of loneliness, even just temporarily, Sanji would keep him close all night.

“No,” Sanji said without hesitation, maybe too eagerly, pushing himself closer to Usopp to double the warmth between them. Some of Usopp’s stray curls brushed the hollow of his throat, and something compels Sanji to add, “Why would I be mad?”

It’s a stupid fucking question, of course, especially since it feels like he’s done nothing but laid into Usopp verbally, and Sanji willingly acknowledged he has a short shitty temper; but–that’s the thing, once Sanji’s blown off some steam (sometimes quite literally), he doesn’t linger on those feelings.

Usopp didn’t reply, and the silence made Sanji anxious, not wanting to be misread, but then the sniper’s head settled back on his shoulder, Usopp’s calm puffs of breath so close they’re giving him goosebumps. He couldn’t tell if Usopp believed him or not, possibly too tired to argue otherwise, but it seemed to satisfy him.

Then, Usopp said in a distant voice,“Y’know, ‘Guin said somethin’ funny. Said, ‘Here comes the guard dog’ when he saw you comin' earlier. What’d he mean by that...?”

Sanji’s heart was sent into a full gallop.

Something Zoro had said to him once before, which resulted in an especially volatile brawl between them, came to mind: “Don’t be so jealous, cook.”

It was said in response to Sanji allegedly shooting Zoro a particularly sour look all because Usopp had ducked behind the nearest crew mate after being startled by sudden Marine canonfire, which happened to be their vice captain’s hulking presence.Sanji could’ve punted the shitty swordman’s head right off his shoulders for the accusation. Jealous of what , exactly? Not being Usopp’s personal bodyguard? It was stupid. Even worse to get so pissed off about.

He remembered how Zoro had looked at him, an almost pitying expression to parry Sanji’s explosive anger, a huge fight breaking out when the cook argued on the contrary. Like he knew something Sanji didn’t. As if the answer had been clear to everyone except him.

Almost as if to insinuate–

Usopp’s breathing had finally evened out, the sag of his body letting Sanji know that he had finally surrendered to sleep. He snored softly, nestled practically under the older man’s chin. Sanji released a stuttering breath that he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. Just like that, the moment had passed and there was none left to witness the trembling revelation that had just struck the cook. It was too much, too enormous of a feeling to simply ignore and yet, Sanji felt too afraid to name it.

So he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet, anyway. He had to examine it later, more thoroughly, because if he went and hurt Usopp for the tangled mess that was his own heart, he would never forgive himself. He allowed himself one terrible, selfish moment: just closed his eyes and buried his nose into Usopp’s hair, lip trembling as he tried to memorize the smell, just in case.

Of all the things Sanji promised himself he’d protect Usopp from, he never could’ve imagined that included him, too.

#sanuso #one piece #mine #god usopp #black leg sanji

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