#as always i don't know where these words came from they were here when i woke up from my trance

[wordsmeetwbb]

Not Just Friends

Word count: 1.8k

Content: fluff

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: I needed a break from writing smut so here's a little something about Paige and Azzi figuring out they're gay! Obviously we don't know how this happened (if it happened, but let's be honest. they play women's basketball. the odds are high.), but this is just my take on how I think those realizations would have gone. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!

________

Paige was 16 when she realized that what she felt for Azzi was more than just friendship. It was August, just over a year after they had met during USA basketball. They had settled into a routine over the summer. Although they were separated by half the country, they were closer than ever.

Every evening around eight o’clock, Paige Facetimed Azzi. More often than not, Azzi picked up on the first ring and they stayed on the call until one of them (Azzi) fell asleep. Paige missed Azzi with every fiber of her being, but she knew she was lucky to talk to Azzi as much as she did. She felt lucky that Azzi wanted to talk to her as much as she did.

On one of those Facetime calls, late into the night, Paige was yapping to Azzi while the brunette struggled to keep her eyes open. Really, it wasn’t Azzi’s fault. It was nearly two in the morning and Paige hadn’t stopped talking since midnight. She had tried to annoy Azzi into staying awake for a while, but then she felt bad and let the tired girl drift off, content to provide background noise with the endless amount of stories she wanted to tell Azzi.

“And then she like, she just fuckin’ chopped it! All of it! Like a foot of hair, Az. And I was like, ‘That’s crazy,’ and she was like ‘Not all of us have emotional attachments to our hair, Paige,’ but that’s not fair. I’m not emotionally attached, I’m just picky about my gameday hair, y’know?” Paige rambled to a mostly unconscious Azzi.

“Mhm,” Azzi mumbled. Through the screen, Paige could see the way the younger girl was nestled into the pile of blankets on her bed, clutching a unicorn stuffed animal. She smiled softly.

“Anyway, she tried to tell me I should cut my hair. And obviously, I said no, because how am I gonna do gameday braids with a fucking pixie cut, right? But she just wouldn’t let up so-” Paige cut herself off when she saw Azzi’s face relax. If she really thought about it, the reason she talked so much on these calls was because she knew Azzi fell asleep easier with background noise. And if she was extra motivated by the way the younger girl looked so peaceful in her sleep, well, that was her business and no one else’s.

Paige’s eyes traced every curve, line, and crease of Azzi’s face. Her skin glowed even in the dim room, the color darker than usual from the time she’d spent in the summer sun. Paige was confident that if she had any artistic ability whatsoever she’d be able to draw Azzi perfectly from memory. The way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks with her eyes closed, the light pink tint to her nose from a little too much time outside, the curve of her plump lips- Paige had it all memorized.

Paige hated ruining these soft moments where she just got to look at Azzi without the younger girl complaining about it, but as her eyes wandered around her face a thought popped into her head.

I’ve never looked at a guy like this. Paige paused, gaze stuck on Azzi’s perfectly curved eyebrows. What an odd thing to notice. A second thought. Paige wasn’t used to thinking during these Facetimes. She didn’t think she liked it, but the ideas seemed to have opened some kind of floodgates. More observations came pouring into her subconscious.

Her lips look so soft. I wonder what they feel like. Her eyes are such a pretty shade of brown, I wish I could see them right now. I’ve never felt like this about a friend.

Paige took a deep breath, startled by her train of thought. None of the thoughts surprised her. That was the whole problem. Azzi’s eyes were pretty, and her lips did look soft, and Paige did wonder what they felt like. She just hadn’t realized she thought any of those things.

Paige thought back to a few weeks ago when one of the girls on her team had been talking about her crush on some guy in the grade above them. The things her teammate had said about that guy had sounded a lot like everything Paige was thinking about Azzi.

Oh, Paige thought. I like Azzi.

It wasn’t anything revolutionary. Paige was pretty sure she had always liked Azzi. She just hadn’t known it. It wasn’t until nearly a year later when she and Azzi finally confessed their feelings to each other that Paige thought about what liking Azzi meant for herself.

“You never came out to me!” Azzi had exclaimed. Paige had frozen, staring at Azzi and really, truly not understanding.

“Come out to you?” she repeated. Azzi nodded, eyebrows drawing together.

“Yeah, like, are you bi? Lesbian? I came out to you months ago and I’ve been thinking you’re straight since we met, P,” she explained, looking at Paige like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Paige said dumbly. Azzi just stared at her. “Uh, I guess I didn’t really think about it. Like, the whole not being straight thing. I just know I like you,” Paige shrugged. Azzi had blushed, the color intoxicating on her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pushing Paige’s shoulder gently. Paige just grinned.

“As long as I can be your idiot.”

________

Azzi learned she was gay at three in the morning on a Thursday when she was 16. It had, in a very cliche fashion, been a dream that sparked the realization.

She had woken up, breathing hard, the blankets feeling far too hot, with memories of soft lips on hers taking up far too much space in her mind. She threw the blankets off, sitting straight up in bed, and had a full-blown gay panic.

The longer she sat there, the more pieces of the dream came back to her. At first, it was just gentle lips on her own, and then soft blonde hair running through her fingers, and then it progressed to memories of warm pale skin under her hands. Azzi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she demanded to her brain. The clock was creeping closer to four in the morning, she had to be up for school in two hours, and she was being terrorized by completely non-platonic thoughts of her best friend. Azzi flopped face-down onto her bed and let out a scream into her pillow, realizing too late that the rest of her household was still sleeping and might have heard it.

Feeling frustratingly awake and completely insane, Azzi grabbed her phone off her nightstand and navigated into a new Google tab. “What does a dream about kissing someone mean?” she searched first. The results were straightforward, bluntly informing Azzi that dreams of kissing someone usually meant that you had romantic feelings for that person. That brought up new questions.

“How to know if I like girls?” was her next search. It was a ridiculous idea to Azzi. She had had crushes on boys before. Hell, she’d dated a boy in middle school, and as much as that wasn’t a real relationship, it definitely proved that she liked guys. So why the hell was she having a dream about kissing her best friend who was a girl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Why do I want to kiss a girl if I like guys?” Azzi tried, hoping that somebody on Reddit had the same problem as she did. Shockingly, there was a result. That’s how Azzi Fudd learned about bisexuality, and suddenly things made a lot more sense.

She tried to bring it up to Paige on their nightly Facetime that day, but Paige was being frustratingly dense.

“Hey, Paige? Have you ever thought about, like, dating somebody?” Azzi started. Paige startled, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah. But not like, for real. Don’t really wanna date people because like, ew, right? Anyway, I was thinking that next year-” Azzi, feeling disproportionately upset, ended the call. Mere seconds later, her phone was ringing with another Facetime from Paige. She let it ring for a while, wanting Paige to know that she hung up on purpose. Finally, she clicked to accept the call.

“What the hell, Az? I was telling you a story,” Paige complained. Azzi glared at her.

“And I was trying to tell you something, too.” Paige looked confused.

“But you asked me a question.”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of a leading question, dumbass? I was using it as an intro to something,” Azzi grumbled. Paige had the decency to look at least a little bit sorry.

“That’s my bad, Az. It was just kind of a weird topic. Sorry, you can tell me whatever you were going to. I won’t even interrupt this time,” Paige apologized. Azzi swallowed, losing her nerve now that the moment had been drawn out so much.

“I just… uh. I wanted to tell you that I learned about something,” she said, mouth unbearably dry. Paige nodded, prompting her to go on. “You know that people can like guys and girls?” Azzi blurted out. Paige’s eyebrows shot up, surprise coloring her face, but she nodded slowly. Azzi could feel her hands shaking. She knew Paige was religious, but she was suddenly considering that this could end negatively. She didn’t give herself time to consider that outcome.

“I’m bisexual,” Azzi said quickly. She felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest. Paige looked at her for a moment, studying her through the phone. Azzi shifted uncomfortably. “Can you say something?” She asked, tone unsure. Paige cleared her throat, expression softening. Azzi felt her body relax immediately, just from noticing the change in Paige’s body language.

“You know I’m proud of you for telling me, right?” Paige asked. Azzi blinked. That was not the response she was expecting.

“You’re… proud of me?” she repeated. Paige nodded, the movement jerky through the screen. A smile spread across Azzi’s face.

“Thanks, Paige.” Paige just nodded again, a small smile on her face now.

So, from the time Azzi had the dream of kissing Paige (the first of many) to the time she came out to the blonde, her gay crisis lasted about 16 hours. When she thought about it later, years down the road, she thought it made complete sense. Azzi overthought every single thing in her life except Paige. Realizing she was bisexual was easy because it was Paige. The girl who talked her ear off on calls every night, who sent her iMessage games at ungodly hours, who always knew how to comfort her. Just Paige. Liking Paige made perfect sense.

[hellsquills]

Here's the things about only feeling anxiety when you're safe:

You really have to feel like your finally safe. And that takes time.

What Stan felt after Ford returned wasn't safety, but relief. For 30 years all he felt was hope, numbness, pain, anger... but not safety. Nor relief.

When Stanford returns, it's relief, then anger, then pain, then numbness. Never safety. He's happy he's back, but he doesn't feel safe, because they aren't on good terms. It's not like he feels at danger, but it's uneasiness. And being uneasy doesn't make you feel safe at all.

Of course, after the memory wipe, it changes. First for the better, then for the worse. Because first come the good ones (his family, his kids employees, his childhood), then the bad ones (literally everything else), and Stan starts wondering whether he actually died and reincarnated, punished to remember every single sin he committed in his past life. He quickly discards the idea; even so, if that were the case, in this new life he has his family, which he didn't in the previous one. Those memories can come back if they want, because he's not alone to face them anymore.

And then the kids leave. And Stanford stays, and stays close, never leaving his side. And even though he's thankful, something in the back of his mind insists that he needs to be alert, in case the other shoe drops (which will happen). Stan is happy, he's as happy as he ever thought he could be, but he still doesn't feel safe. Maybe he never will.

The twins go sailing, after making sure Stan is okay and more in control of his memories, and things take some time to adjust to, but they manage. They sail, and fish, and hunt, and bicker, and laugh, and bond. They're both the happiest they've ever been, and they're not afraid to show the fact that they need each other. They're the reason for each other's happiness, after all, and damn it if they won't make their brother know that, one way or another.

It's been around a year, and the initial thrill of a weekly near-death encounter wears off. They love it, of course, but they also want time to enjoy life. So they look for less threatening anomalies and study those, and every once in a while they'll go looking for the jackpot. It's a nice, paused rhythm that allows them some peace and quiet, time on their own, and time together. It's a perfect balance.

It is then, when they're doing whatever in silence, that something strikes Stan. He has to blink a few times, but the sensation is still there. All of a sudden, the world slows down, and he needs a moment to look around. He doesn't feel dizzy, but it's a strange feeling, a new one. He doesn't like it.

Ford notices the change and asks him, and Stan says it's nothing. Ford reminds him they said not to downplay their worries anymore, but Stan doesn't know what else to say. It's literally nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good either. Just nothing at all.

It's like the curtain dropped and the show ended, and there's no applause. What is a showman supposed to do after the curtain falls?

He doesn't understand why he feels like this, but it frustrates him to no end. He starts having anxiety attacks for apparently no reason, other than not knowing what's wrong with him. Ford tells him it's a normal reaction to decades of accumulated stress, but Stan already knows that. He's frustrated because these consequences had 40 years to appear, and yet they decided to surface right when he finally has a happy life. He feels like shit because he isn't supposed to feel like shit, not now. He's wasted 40 years having a shitty life and now he's probably gonna feel like shit because of it for the rest of his life. And if that weren't enough, Ford is worried about him. Worried and frustrated, because he can't rip these feelings out of his head. All he can do is stay near and comfort him as best as he can.

However, as time goes on, Stan starts feeling better. The numbness dissipates, and he doesn't feel like he's on autopilot mode again (god he's always hated being like that). Eventually, he becomes more aware of himself and everything around him, and he finds himself laughing and crying with genuine emotions.

Eventually, Stan feels like himself again. His best himself to date.

Sometimes the body does not allow itself to breakdown, to panic, until the very moment you are safe.

Could you imagine? Stanley living on survival all these years, never stopping long enough to panic or cry or feel.

Then, his twin returns and for a moment he thinks it's over, he can feel a build up, a hammering in his chest and a stinging in his eyes and- BAM. A punch.

It isn't until they're out at sea, that when he gets hurt and actually gets taken care of, that his body registers that he is safe. At last.

[tsumuus]

Hiii I'm here for the valentines event if you'll have me

How about receiving an anonymous letter from Osamu, your childhood best friend since diapers. Plot twist? Reverse "to all the boys I loved before" where it's his attempt in confessing through a corny love letter starting from kinder, grade school, middle school, and now the latest anonymous confession- high school.

It (being years worth of attempted love letters) wasn't supposed to find itself in your locker, I guess fate (Atsumu) had other plans for both you and Osamu this valentines.

No pressure in this ask, feel free to discard this if you don't feel like it- have a nice day!!

Osamu Miya met you when he was five years old, and that was all it took. One meeting, one shared carton of juice at snack time, one moment of your bright smile aimed right at him, and he was gone.

A week later, he wrote you a letter.

His five-year-old hands gripped a crayon too tightly as he scribbled out the messy confession, his heart racing even though you weren’t there to see it. His letters were uneven, his words barely legible, but the message was clear: I like you. A lot.

But when the time came to give it to you, he couldn't. His palms got sweaty, his stomach twisted, and he shoved the letter into the back of his closet, hidden behind his toys.

One letter turned into another, then another. Every year, on Valentine's Day, he wrote you a new one, promising himself that this year would be the year he gave it to you. But every year, he chickened out. The letters stacked up, filling a small box buried in the back of his closet, each one chronicling his growing love for you, each one holding words he could never bring himself to say out loud.

Atsumu knew, of course. He had known since the very first letter, because Osamu was bad at hiding things from him. And for years, Atsumu let him be, let him hold onto his secret, until he finally decided enough was enough.

So, on the morning of February 14th in your second year of high school, you opened your locker to an avalanche of old, yellowed letters.

They tumbled out in a flurry of paper, slipping from the shelves and falling to the floor in front of you. You blinked, startled, as students around you glanced over, whispering.

The first letter you picked up was old. The handwriting was horrible- big, uneven letters written in crayon. I like you a lot.

Your heart clenched. You picked up another one, the ink slightly smudged. You looked really pretty today. I wanted to tell you, but I was too nervous.

Another. I think I’ve loved you since I was five. Maybe even before that. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it has to be true.

One after another, you read through them, your heartbeat growing louder with each one. By the time you finished, your hands were shaking, not from nerves but from something warm and overwhelming. Love. Affection. A feeling that had always been there, waiting for you to see it.

You had to find Osamu.

You barely heard the murmurs of your classmates as you turned on your heel, marching straight to his classroom. The moment you reached the door, you didn’t hesitate, stepping inside and scanning the room until your eyes landed on him.

“Osamu.”

His head snapped up from his desk, eyes wide at your sudden appearance. “Huh? What-”

“Come with me.”

He barely had time to react before you grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the hallway. His heart was hammering now, but for all the wrong reasons. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly why you were here.

And then you showed him.

The letters, held carefully in your hands, the pages slightly crumpled from how tightly you’d been gripping them. His breath caught in his throat.

He recognized them immediately.

His world tilted. “I- where- ”

“You wrote these.”

Osamu swallowed hard, panic rising like a tide. “I don’t- how did you-”

“They were in my locker this morning.”

His stomach dropped. He whipped around, scanning the hallway as if he could catch Atsumu in the act, but the bastard was nowhere to be seen. Of course. That idiot.

“I- I don’t know how they got there,” he started, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that would make this moment less terrifying. “I never wanted you to see them- I mean, I did, but not like this- I was gonna throw them away, or burn them or somethin’-”

“Burn them?” you repeated, voice gentle.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. “Yeah, ‘cause- ‘cause they’re embarrassing, and you probably feel weird now, and I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anythin’-”

“Osamu.”

He kept rambling. “I swear I wasn’t tryin’ to creep you out or nothin’-”

“Osamu.”

His mouth snapped shut at the way you said his name. Soft. Certain.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” you asked, holding the letters closer to your chest.

Osamu felt dizzy. “...What?”

“Every single thing?”

He swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I meant every word.”

A pause. Then-

“Good.”

Osamu blinked. “Good?”

You stepped closer, the warmth of your presence making his breath hitch. “Because I like you too.”

The words took a second to register. When they did, Osamu’s brain short-circuited. “You- you do?”

You smiled, and he thought he might actually pass out.

Then, before he could say anything else, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I expect a letter every Valentine’s from now on,” you murmured, eyes shining with something that made his chest feel like it might burst.

Then you turned on your heel and walked back to class, leaving Osamu standing there, utterly frozen.

His fingers twitched. His cheek burned where your lips had been. His heart pounded so loud he thought the whole school might hear it.

And then a thought hit him, so certain and real that it knocked the breath out of him.

He’d write you a letter every day if it meant he got to be with you.

valentines event | masterlists

a/n i love this request sm thank you anon this has been my favorite thing to write so far in this event that i just had to post it first lemme give you a big fat slobbery kiss muah muah💋💦 hope you liked it as much as i loved writing it !!!! :)

[vampiriito]

Summer was my first love (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader) part 1

A/N: Hi loves! this is my first fic and i just wanna let you know that I'm open to any criticism, but i want you to be able to nice at the same time. This is inspired by my favorite author on here the lovely @featherandferns, her fic daylight was so good and i read all the parts in less than 2 hours. With that being said the plot is completely different but i recommend checking out her works too because she's very talented! this might be a bit long, i wanted to write a slow-burn. Let me know if i managed to do that (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Summary: After getting locked into a closet with a kook girl, JJ Maybank comes to the realization that his animosity towards the spoilt people living on Figure Eight doesn't have to apply to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Seriously?" JJ Maybank's blue eyes meet yours through the frame of your glasses as he sneers at the door which was now shut. Leaving you both stuck together in this small cramped closet. If you weren't panicked cause of the claustrophobic tendencies of your stupid brain, you definitely were now.

You were alone with your 3rd grade crush, and he had no idea, you were a kook, (which he hated,) and one hell of a wallflower person. You've been watching him from a far since you were 9, and it got a little weirder once you could walk around freely and just... take pictures with your camera as your hobby flourished. You were now, glancing shyly between the door and his face, 'he's probably feeling weird being stuck in here with a complete stranger.' you thought to your self, making sure to stick to your corner of the closet.

"What’s your name?" He demanded, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over you, studying you. Of course, he would ask that right away, JJ could be direct and kind of an ass most days. And he felt like if he wasn't gonna ask, you weren't gonna speak up first.

Of course he didn't know your name, he wasn't bordering on creepy stalker most days like you were in your free time. Across these years you managed to gather a lot on JJ surprisingly, being quiet and so reserved got you very far, going almost invisible when you went out. It didn't help you were a shutterbug, always taking pictures and people watching, "Y/n.." you responded softly and weakly, adjusting your glasses.

He raised an eyebrow, studying your face for a moment. That name sounded familiar, he could swear he'd heard it before somewhere, the only question was where.

"You're a kook, huh? I should have known." He grumbles, running a hand through his messy dirty blonde hair. You looked so.... soft, and it somehow made him scoff. He hated your kind more often than not, and here he was, stuck in a closet with one.

You nodded, frowning gently. You were aware of his hate and animosity towards the people living on figure 8, but you weren't exactly the picture perfect image of a snarky preppy kook girl. Or so you liked to think anyway.. He looked even more beautiful up close, more defined than what you usually saw through your camera lenses when photographing him. 'Suddenly i feel like a creep being here..' you thought, playing with the hem of your baggy sweater.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you fidgeted with your sweater, his lips curling up into a subtle smirk. 'How can someone be so shy?' he thought to himself, wondering why you were so nervous.

"You look like you've never talked to a human before." He comments, letting out a soft scoff, and you flinch gently, your eyes snapping up to meet his. He noticed this and his smirk grew a little wider, enjoying that he was able to fluster you.

That's the most JJ thing he could say to someone like you. "i.. well, i don't talk usually." you face palmed internally at the way your words came out. You had the chance to come off as something you weren't given he didn't know you, and you weren't doing a very good job at it. You could've faked being confident and charm him, yet here you were talking like you never had anything to eat in your life.

He lets out a soft scoff as he watches you stumble over your words. There was something he found so weird about you, you were so… different from everyone he encountered on a daily basis. You were shy, quiet, and awkward, not like the sarcastic and arrogant persona that most kooks had. But, he tried to shake the thoughts away, he didn't need to be thinking about you this way, of all people.

"I can tell.." he responds, his accent ringing through slightly as his smirk turned into a slight frown.

There was an awkward silence that fell over the two of you in the cramped closet, the music that played throughout the party muffled by the thick walls. JJ glanced around for a moment, almost bored before his gaze settled back on you. His blue eyes studying you intently, trying to figure you out. The frown on his face remained, 'Why are you so shy?' he thought to himself, biting his tongue before he continued.

"What are you even doing here anyway? You don't seem like the type to be at a party.."

'Got dragged against my will by my very loud and obnoxious best friend here...' you thought to your self, the thought amusing you but of course not letting that mirror on your expression, "I'm sorry?" 'what? dumbass..' you scolded your self mentally. The question was loud and clear.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down for a moment, wondering if you always spoke in a quiet and awkward way, or if it was just because you were in a small, dark, and very cramped closet with a stranger.

"You heard me. I doubt you'd normally come to a party like this." He repeated, his frown returning to a small smirk as he pushed off the wall to take a hesitant step towards you.

Again, such a JJ thing to say. Your stomach jumped as he took a small step towards you, suppressing the urge to shift awkwardly. All you needed now was to look more awkward than you already were, you acted and sounded like a pathetic dumbass, in front of your childhood crush nonetheless. "i just ended up here.."

He took a few more steps until he stood a few feet away from you. He was towering over you, his 6’1 height compared to your, what he could only guess, 5.2 or 5.3 height. He had to admit, in some weird way, it was amusing being able to fluster you so easily. That was until he noticed there was nowhere really for you to go. The walls of the small closet caged you in, he was blocking your way out of the closet, unless you tried to push him out of the way.

He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as a small smirk returned to his face.

"There's nowhere for you to go.." he teased, taking another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you even more. He noticed you shiver gently and took note of it.

"Are you usually this weird with strangers?" you found yourself asking, surprising even yourself after the words left your mouth. 'caging me in like this wouldn't create a good first impression... he's just lucky I've been in love with him since i was 9.' you thought.

This time it was his turn to be surprised. He was definitely not expecting you to say something so blunt, you were full of surprises. He chuckled softly, taking another small step forward, effectively caging you against the wall. His smirk grew into a wide smile, his eyes studying you intently as he spoke.

"Only when I get stuck in a small crowded closet with them." He was now only a few inches away from you, his eyes studying your face. He was so close, you could take in some of his scent, which somehow matched perfectly with his personality. A mix of weed and the smell of the ocean and sunscreen. You could also now see little details in his face, like his freckled cheeks, and his jawline that looked hard enough to cut glass.

Being able to smell him was a pleasant feeling as weird as that sounded, his scent matching with the way he was completely. The small freckles scattered over his soft skin made you want to be able to take mental photographs. He looked breathtaking up close, even in the dim light of the closet. Like he was some kind of modern day demigod or some bullshit. You hummed gently, turning your body towards the door to try the door weakly, your hand wrapping around the door handle and shaking it with little to no force to actually get it open.

He chuckled at the sad attempt you made of trying to open the door, "It ain't going to open, believe me, I've already tried that." He said, his voice almost a murmur as he leaned against one of the walls of the closet, watching you struggle with the door. His eyes slowly traveled down from your face, down to your hips and to your beat up vans. Strange, he thought. He'd expect someone of your social status to have more expensive looking threads and shoes. Not like a librarian on vacation.

You side glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. You felt absolutely wrecked, nerves and claustrophobia tugging at your sensitive stomach, it didn't help this closet was dimly lit and smelled like mold. 'What a great setting to interact in for the first time..' you thought bitterly, leaning your back against the wall opposite him.

He kept his eyes on your hips, letting his gaze rake over your body. He felt a weird and small pang of sympathy for you. You looked so small against the wall, and you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin any moment now. It was different than when he usually had the unfortunate chance of speaking with a kook kid.

"Are you scared of small spaces or somethin' ?" He asked, his voice softer than usual as he spoke.

You nodded mutely in response, your expression probably resembling that of a deer in front of a truck. Sometimes you forgot JJ's voice carried a southern drawl to it, given he never spoke to you. You would hear him when he'd pass you in the school halls while talking to his friends animatedly or when he'd say something snarky in class to the teacher, his voice never directed towards you.

When you nodded, he mentally groaned. That was his luck. He ended up being stuck in here with a kook that was also terrified of small spaces. He let out a sigh, he would have to try and find a way to calm you down, since he was now stuck in this closet with you until whenever someone decided to let them out.

"How in the hell did you even manage to get yourself into a situation like this..?" He questioned, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You were asking yourself that question too, but i guess being so easy to push around wasn't really helping your case here. Truth was you were just a collateral victim of a prank which was meant for JJ, getting pushed into the small closet by mistake or just to make it worse for him by locking him up with a complete stranger.

You shook your head shrugging, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. You knew you had to say something, actual words at one point but your mind came up blank. Or your mouth wasn't able to say them out loud.

He let out another soft scoff, knowing deep down this was no accident. Some of his pogue buddies probably set this up just to screw around with him. Although, you didn't seem to know that. You looked genuinely clueless.

"My friends probably did this on purpose..."

He muttered, leaning against the opposite wall to you. He wasn't happy about this situation, especially not being locked in here with a girl for what could be hours. Which he would usually be elated about. But seeing you barely talked or moved, seemingly scared of loud sounds and sudden movements like a small animal, he was aware you weren't gonna makeout any time soon.

He looked you over again, his eyes roaming over your small and fidgety figure. In some weird way, he kind of felt bad for you. You looked so nervous and uncomfortable being stuffed in this dumb closet, and you looked like you didn't belong at this party in the first place.

"What were you even doing here anyway?... this ain't exactly a place a shy girl like you would go on your own free will..." he echoed the question once again, the curiosity and desire to fill the silence stronger than the fact that you were strangers.

"That's because it wasn't my own free will.." you spoke up in minutes of being almost completely silent, your voice small and weak.

He was both surprised and not surprised at your answer. He was surprised that you answered so quickly, but he could have guessed this wasn't your idea.

"Let me guess... one of your loud and obnoxious friends dragged you out here to try and get you to 'have fun'?"

Bingo! You nodded silently again, your eyes darting around his face taking in every detail, hopefully being able to recall every single one of them to draw or paint later.

He grumbled something under his breath. He knew it. From his experience, kooks were always so loud and overbearing. It was what he hated most about them, and yet, you didn't seem like that kind of girl at all... you were quiet and soft spoken, something he hadn't seen in a kook girl since... well, never really. "Figures.. can you not say no to them or somethin’ ?"

You stared at him silently, blinking as you raked your brain for what to say, your eyes narrowed just a hint. You were aware he usually spoke a lot but not this much. Or you were too quiet. You were also way too nervous to speak or think properly, having your lifetime crush speaking to you, like actually.

He was watching you intently, taking note of the expressions that flashed on your face as you tried to come up with an answer. You were obviously nervous, he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. And there was something else about you... something he couldn't place his finger on. It was weird.

"You look like you're gonna pass out or something..." He commented, watching you closely.

You shook your head 'no', reaching to try the door again. You suddenly didn't feel so lucky you got this rare chance to speak and admire JJ shamelessly given you were stuck in a closet together. You were anxious and feeling like he could see right through you, see all the weird tendencies you had and judge you for being so pathetically in love with him for so long.

He chuckled softly as you tried to open the door, again and again. It honestly reminded him of a small animal trapped in a cage, frantically looking for a way out. Something about the way you were acting amused him. "There ain't no point trying to open it again, trust me, it's stuck good..."

JJ could tell you were anxious, and it was easy to guess why. It was probably terrifying being stuck in a small, dark, cramped closet with him of all people. And judging by how quiet and shy you were, this was probably one of the hardest social interactions you ever had.

"Jesus... can you even speak a full sentence?" He piped up after another few seconds of silence, his smirk returning to his face as he watched you struggle against the door.

You looked to the side, a small frown making its way on your face at his question. 'Not when you're so close to me that i can smell the sea salt water in your hair.' you groaned internally, still silent. You kept your eyes locked with his in the almost dark closet, scolding yourself for not being able to handle social interactions like normal people.

JJ's smirk widened at your expression, you looked like a kicked puppy, it was almost cute. He stood up straight, lazily pushing himself off the wall and slowly making his way towards you. When he was a few steps away from you, he stopped, looking you up and down with a hint of mockery.

"You're a real quiet thing, ain't ya?"

With a few more confident steps, he was now standing just in front of you, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at you again, his smirk still present on his face. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his body, him being so close. His ocean like scent mixed with the weed smell, filling the closet and making it even harder to breathe than it already was in here.

"You afraid of me or somethin'? "

"No.." your voice rung out without missing a beat this time, a soft and gentle sound as you frowned to your self. You were probably one of the few people who wasn't afraid of JJ. Years of following him from a distance and watching him closely took away the fear factor. If anything he'd probably be afraid of you.

JJ let out a quiet scoff at your answer, an odd response. He had expected you to be as afraid of him given the way you were acting. You were clearly nervous being in a small, dark, and cramped space with a man, yet you weren't afraid of him or his presence.

"You're an odd one then.." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, taking in your small, timid figure.

He was a few inches away from you, towering over your small frame. Being this close to you, he could see more details in your face. How your eyes were framed with small dark eyelashes behind your glasses, how your skin was unnaturally smooth and soft looking, and how your lips looked almost velvety, almost as if they were made of silk. In addition to that, your scent filled his nose now, mixing with his own and the smell of the closet. You actually smelled very good... which definitely wasn't something weird to be thinking. JJ found himself lost in thought the more he looked at you. You looked so... tender and yet the way you were acting, so nervous and small, you looked like a spooked stray dog. It didn't add up in his head, you were probably the first kook girl he had ever met that acted this way, it was making him curious. Just as he opened his mouth to ask something, a loud banging noise echoed from the other side of the door, making you jump slightly, surprised by the sudden sound.

The whole silent staring contest you both had going on was interrupted by a loud sound from the other side of the closet door, almost startling you to death given you were so focused on how beautiful JJ's eyes looked while he studied you intently. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, adjusting your glasses and grimacing to yourself.

The sudden sound made JJ roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly trying to be annoying.

"Oh come on..."

he grumbled, annoyed already by the person who was trying to interrupt. Before he could say anything else, the banging continued once again, this time twice as loud as before, making him grumble another curse underneath his breath. He was beyond annoyed now, a small scowl forming on his face at the constant knocking. He turned around, staring at the small closet door, his hands on his hips as he waited for the knocking again. He was about to say something, but just then, the door was suddenly swung open, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

He let out a surprised noise as he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to the ground, but he managed to catch himself just at the last moment by grabbing the nearest thing which happened to be the closet wall, next to your head. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, he was breathing heavily, the unexpected event nearly giving him a heart attack. After a few moments he slowly looked up, turning his head to see who had opened the door.

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement. Standing in front of him was none other than one of his pogue buddies, John B, who was smiling and laughing like this was the most fun he had in forever as he looked down at JJ. JJ quickly managed to regain his composure, standing up straight before speaking up:

"Are you tryin' to give me a damn heart attack, John B?"

You were just as startled as JJ was, for a second time in less than 2 minutes nonetheless. Your gaze shifted from looking up at JJ's side profile to the boy standing in the door way of the closet. John B, JJ's best friend since forever, someone you also saw on a daily basis while doing your... usual checking up on JJ. John B also probably didn't know who you were, and you wouldn't be surprised even in the slightest.

John B looked between you and JJ, a smirk slowly forming on his face as his eyes landed on the proximity between the two of them. John B leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest as he spoke up, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Seems like you got yourself into a situation, huh JJ?"

JJ's eyes narrowed at his best friends tone, he immediately knew what he was implying. He shot him a small glare before speaking up, a hint of annoyance in his voice

"Can it, John B... it ain't what it looks like."

John B chuckled at his response, he clearly didn't believe JJ given the awkward and somewhat embarrassing situation the two of you were in. "It sure looks like it though. Locked up in a closet together, all alone. You two got up to anything in here?"

Your eyes darted between the 2 best friends, adjusting your glasses as your gaze landed on John B, his teasing words making your face heat up. The implication of getting up to anything with JJ was enough to probably give 9 year old you a aneurysm, "Excuse me?" you spoke up, trying to sound irritated at his words although you sounded so weak and shy you regretted speaking instantly.

John B chuckled again at your response, clearly enjoying making you both uncomfortable. The way you spoke was so quiet and awkward, it was almost laughable. JJ continued to glare at him, trying to non-verbally tell his friend to shut his damn mouth, but it obviously wasn't working.

"Oh... I see, there's a voice under there, huh? You sound like a damn mouse, girl.. can you speak louder than a whisper?"

He continued to smirk at you, now mocking the softness of your voice. JJ grimaced at what John B had just told you, a pang of guilt suddenly shooting through his chest. He didn't like the way John B was talking to you, in fact, he was getting a little mad that he was being so rude.

"She ain't gotta speak louder. Leave her alone." JJ spoke up, glaring at his friend once again, finding himself defending this stranger.

You looked down, scowling to yourself at his question, now definitely not speaking another word for the rest of the conversation, knowing you'd just slip away once they were distracted. Your finger pushed the frame of your glasses up and down, your eyes fixed on your beat up sneakers. This was certainly one hell of a first impression.

John B held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting both you and JJ annoyed. "Relax man, I was just messing with the poor mouse."

He joked, his eyes still on you, now watching your fiddling. JJ just scowled at him again, silently debating punching his friend square in the nose. The fact that he was making fun of you was bothering him more than it should. He was used to his friend making stupid jokes and being a dick, but he couldn't stand the thought of him mocking you, especially since you were acting nothing but polite and shy.

Mouse? you could see the resemblance i guess, with the small one word answers which sounded like small squeaks from the anxiety. Still, John B was being kind of a dick at the moment which caused your frown to deepen as you debated just making a run for it and disappearing.

John B chuckled quietly, not taking his eyes off you as you fiddled with your glasses. He knew he was being a dick, but he was just enjoying it too much. He suddenly had an idea in his mind, a way to further piss off JJ. With a sly smirk on his face, he spoke again, this time, directed solely at you, ignoring JJ completely. "So, mouse, what's your name?"

'Seriously? neither of them know my name?' you groaned internally, looking up to lock eyes with John B nervously. In moments like these you wished you had at least a bit of semblance of a back bone, and not just clam up like a dumbass, "Y/n.." you answered simply, your expression twitching slightly from having to repeat your name once again. You wanted to roll your eyes in annoyance so badly.

There was something about the way you said your name that made JJ's heart stutter in a way it never had before. It sounded almost magical coming out of your small lips, it was so... mellow, and yet so beautiful. John B's smile widened at your answer, obviously not expecting to get an actual answer and a name at that.

"Huh... nice name. Suits you." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, studying your face to figure out if he knew you or not. He came up blank, probably due to being tipsy.

JJ continued to stay silent, watching the interaction between his best friend and you. He was feeling a weird mix of anger and curiosity as he watched. You looked so much more fragile and unthreatening than he had thought. You were like a small cat, a cute but easily spooked cat. Or maybe a mouse, he wasn't sure which.

You felt awkward suddenly, the 3 of you going silent save from the music coming from downstairs after John B's comment about your name. You looked between them momentarily before stepping forward shyly to signal John B to move out the way so you could escape this weird and sufficiently awkward situation at once.

John B chuckled again as you stepped forward, his eyes following your every move. But just as you were about to slip out of the closet, he suddenly reached a hand out, blocking your way.

"Where do you think you're going, mouse?"

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at his friend's behaviour, he knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to annoy both of you, as well as prevent you from getting away. JJ had had just about enough

"Okay, that's enough John B. Don't you think you've teased the poor girl enough?"

John B sighed dramatically, pouting at JJ's annoyed response. He took a small step back, opening up the doorway once again "You're no fun. I was just having a little fun. Don't take it so seriously, JJ."

As much you enjoyed being in JJ's presence you hated social interactions and you wanted to just find your best friend to tell her that this was a bad idea and you should just skate home. So you took a final glance at JJ, before stepping out of the small cramped closet when John B removed his arm which was blocking your way hesitantly. But stepping out wasn't any better cause you were met with the party, still in full throttle, the music making your head feel weird, weirder than being stuck in a moldy closet with your childhood crush. There were less people on the floor you were on, but it was still crowded enough by drunken couples and some rowdy friend groups to make you feel anxious. This was most definitely a bad idea.

JJ watched you step out of the closet, a small pang of guilt shooting through his chest from knowing you were uncomfortable but now having no way to help the situation. He shot a glare at John B for the 10th time in the last 5 minutes through the doorway, silently warning his friend once again.

"You're a damn dick man. Why did you feel the need to be so rude to her?"

John B just shrugged, looking back at JJ with a sly smile as he replied "Because I thought it would be funny. Besides, I didn't think she'd answer me. I thought she was mute or something."

JJ grimaced, of course John B would find making fun of the shyest person he had ever met, fun. He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning quietly. He took a deep breath before speaking up again:

"You really can be an annoying bastard, you know that? Sometimes i wonder how you even manage to speak with girls.."

You weaved through the mass of people at the house party, bumping into couples getting busy and grimacing in apology, trying not to stumble over your feet in the cramped space on the staircase. You quickly descended down the stairs, looking for your friend Maisy, to scold her for bringing you here in the first place. Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. A hand that you recognized, and yet dreaded at the same time. JJ had followed you, and was now stood next to you at the bottom of the stairs.

He gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away. His hand was calloused and rough from years of surfing, yet warm. He spoke up, trying to get your attention over the loud R&B music blaring from the speakers. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

You tensed up from the sudden contact and because well, you thought someone else was grabbing you to pull yet another dumb prank on you, not expecting JJ to follow you and try to talk to you. You shook your head 'no' because as much as you wanted to spend time with him, you knew you'd just clam up and make it weird because this was JJ and you were you.

He noticed how tense you suddenly became once his hand touched you, he couldn't help but silently worry in his head. He wanted to sigh at your immediate response of shaking your head no, but he decided to persist a little more despite not having any reason to:

"Please? I promise I won't make fun of you or anything. I just wanna talk."

"Well, i need to find my friend." you find yourself speaking, although you weren't sure if he heard you over the music or the myriad of sounds and things going on in this house. Really, it was surprising how the neighbors hadn't called the police yet.

JJ leaned closer to you, trying to hear your soft spoken words. He could just barely make out what you had said, but he heard it enough. He looked around for a moment, searching for your friend but not seeing them anywhere in the crowd. But it was a given, since he didn't even know who he was looking for. "Where is your friend? I'll help you look for them."

You shrugged, because you had the same question. Where the hell was Maisy anyway? she disappeared and expected you to what? have fun and party? as if you could do that. Your eyes were fixed on JJ's face, the one you knew and loved through the years, anxiously shifting on your feet at the feel of his big hand still wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from scurrying away.

JJ could sense your anxiousness, he could practically feel the anxious energy coming off your small frame. He subconsciously let his thumb slowly and gently caress your wrist, an attempt to somehow soothe you, even if only slightly. He didn’t like seeing you so anxious.

He suddenly realized that he was still holding your arm, gently keeping you by his side and preventing you from slipping away in the chaos of the house party. He had forgotten in the moment. He looked down at his hand on your arm, "Maybe they went outside.."

You could call her! yeah, you could do that... but what if big mouth Maisy actually showed up and saw JJ Maybank, the dude you had been crushing on since you were a 3rd grader, holding your wrist and actually speaking to you? She'll make this awkward and run her mouth, possibly getting you rejected at the same time. So, you thought it was best to just let him speak to you and then leave you to look for her alone. "What do you wanna talk about with me?" you asked, still quietly, hoping and praying he'd hear you and that you didn't come off as rude.

JJ was a little surprised at the fact that you still stayed by his side after he suggested looking for your friend. He honestly thought you would run off. He mentally shrugged, taking the opportunity to talk to you even more. He turned slightly to look down at you as you spoke, leaning forward to hear you better.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard your quiet voice. That same feeling of both guilt and curiosity ran through him again. How could one voice be so soft and quiet, yet so beautiful at the same time? The thought confused and intrigued him.

He took a moment to register that you had asked him a question, the shock of you actually talking to him making his brain fry for a second or two. He quickly brought himself back to reality, realising that he had to reply.

"I just wanted to apologize. About John B i mean, he's a massive dick, no doubt about that. I told him off.."

"It's okay.." you mumbled smiling slightly, adjusting your glasses with the hand that wasn't in JJ's grip. You actually managed to hold the conversation normally, albeit you were still squeaking out your words.

JJ's eyebrows raised at your smile, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting you to smile as an answer to his apology, it was the last reaction he had expected. And yet, it was a welcome one. It made him feel better, deep down he felt guilty for his friend's behavior.

He stared at you for another moment, the hand he was using to hold your wrist moving once again, his thumb still slowly caressing your skin. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it this time.

JJ quickly snapped out of the little trance and cleared his throat, speaking up again. He didn’t want to make things weird and freak you out. He could feel John B’s eyes on him, he knew the bastard was watching him from the top of the stairs and silently giggling about the whole thing. He pushed down his annoyance, his eyes moving away from your face and around the room, looking at the other people gathered around them. "You said this party was your friend’s idea, right?"

You nodded silently, glancing around the room for your stupid best friend. You were gonna kill Maisy for disappearing on you like this, especially at a party of this calibre. You tried to ignore how JJ was still holding onto your wrist, now rubbing his thumb over your skin to probably soothe you. It made you feel more nervous and anxious, the urge to bolt even more strong now. You didn't wanna mess it up and make it awkward or worse come off as a creep by staring at him or saying something stupid, although the last part was impossible given you barely spoke.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek as you silently nodded back to his question. He was starting to realize how hard you were to talk to, how shy you were. It made him feel bad. He found himself wishing that he could just hear your voice just a little louder. It was so gentle. It made him want to hear more of it, but he had no idea how to get you to speak more without making you uncomfortable.

He quickly stopped himself from thinking any further, realizing that he was starting to sound like a creep in his own head.

They stood there silently for a couple more seconds, as JJ desperately tried to think of something to say to break the silence without making things weird. He could still feel John B’s eyes on him, silently watching the whole situation and probably having the time of his life.

"So...how come I've never seen you around at school before? "

He tried, even though he knew the answer. He just needed to get you talking.

Ouch. You saw him at school all the time, even took routes around the school just to get to pass by him in the halls and hear him talk so loudly to his friends and laugh. So the question stung a little. You looked up at him, shrugging your shoulders, narrowing your eyes and blinking a couple of times, your brain desperately trying to just block out the sound of the music which was making your lungs feel like they were being shaken up.

JJ mentally cringed as he saw the slightly hurt look in your eyes, he regretted his choice of question immediately. Stupid. Of course you were at school, he saw you at school, he just never seen you with anyone.

He winced as he heard that music change to something even louder. The constant music was starting to grate his nerves.

"Can we go outside for a second? I can't even freaking hear myself think in here."

Your brows furrowed, considering his suggestion. It was a good idea, you could call Maisy, maybe have a cigarette too and let your ears get a break from this loud music blaring in them. So you nodded hesitantly, glancing around one last time in case you magically spotted your best friend.

JJ let out a breath of relief when you nodded your head in agreement. He was glad he didn’t have to try and shout over the music anymore. He turned, pulling gently on your wrist to lead you toward the front door. He weaved through people, avoiding getting into conversations. He was determined to get you alone outside so he could talk to you.

Finally, they made it outside. JJ released your wrist as they reached the front door. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden lack of music and the relative quiet (well, aside from the still loud music coming from inside). JJ took a step away from you as he turned to face you.

"Thank god, I thought my ears were gonna bleed with that damn music in there."

'Yeah..' you agreed mentally once again, nodding with a small smile and adjusting your glasses as you stood on the porch, finally able to breathe fresh air, a stark contrast from the muted and sweaty smelling air inside. You needed to start saying words out loud, instead of just answering in your mind.

JJ leaned against the porch railing, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The air was much cooler outside, compared to the stuffy heat that was present inside.

He took a few seconds to study you as you stood across from him. The light from the porch made you look even more softer, if that was even possible. You looked so small in that moment, it made him wonder how you had managed to make it to high school.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking up again. He couldn’t believe that he was actually talking to you, and the fact that he hadn’t messed it up yet was a surprise to him. He didn’t want to think about how bad he would screw it up in the future.

"So uh...wanna explain why you were hiding in a closet? "

There. A question to get the conversation going. He mentally cursed himself in his head, realizing how stupid the question sounded.

"I got pushed in at the same time as you." You found the courage to speak yay! and not so shaky and quiet either. Maybe it was the fact that he thought you were just hiding in the moldy closet, like an actual mouse, which made you wanna defend yourself. That's what was missing from this situation, for him to think you were an actual dumbass who was hiding in a closet because she was afraid of party sounds.

JJ found himself chuckling, raising an eyebrow at your answer. He didn’t expect that particular answer, he was expecting you to say that you just decided to hide in the closest instead of socializing. But pushed in? He could actually believe that. "Damn. Got pushed into a closet with me? That’s gotta be some pretty shitty luck."

'I'd like to think it was kinda lucky of me to get pushed in with you, of all people...' you laughed internally. You glanced at him, tearing your eyes from the street in front of the house, narrowing your eyes at his words, but deciding to just stay silent. It was better than saying something to counter it or even worse.. to try and be funny and fail.

JJ’s eyebrows nearly raised at the sound of your small, quiet laugh. He hadn’t expected you to laugh at his joke, he was actually surprised that you had responded at all. That laugh was definitely enough to make him keep going to get that sweet, soft sound to come back.

“You know, you have a really pretty laugh..“ The sentence was out of his mouth before he could even realize it. He internally winced, hoping he hadn’t just made things weird by complimenting you. Not that he didn't compliment girls usually. If anything, that's how he managed to score in the first place. But in your case he wasn't trying to flatter you to get in your pants. He simply found you interesting.

You could feel yourself blush at his compliment, not realizing you actually laughed out-loud instead of just thinking about it in your head. You scolded yourself internally for reacting to such a casual sentence, he was just being nice after all, not asking you to marry him. "Thanks." you managed to mutter out quietly, hoping it sounded at least a tad bit grateful, and not rude and clipped.

JJ’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that adorable blush on your face. He had never seen you so expressive yet quiet at the same time since he'd met you less than an hour ago. He silently smirked to himself, now he knew how to make you blush. He mentally noted that fact down for later. The fact that you had mumbled out a simple “thanks” in response, just made everything even better for him. He would take anything you responded with, just so he could get you to keep talking and hear that angelic voice.

He shifted against the railing, his hand moving to his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He quickly took one out, putting it between his lips. He glanced down at you as he pulled out a lighter to light the cigarette.

He held the pack out to you, silently offering you a cigarette as well. Which as he did, he realized that it wasn't really the epitome of smooth or romantic. But he already had his hand out stretched. JJ was becoming annoyed at himself for overthinking his every move, feeling like he was losing his footing on a ground he'd navigated countless times.

A small amused grimace made its way on your face despite trying to stop it, silently debating if you should take a cigarette. You pulled out your own lighter, stepping a little closer, not too much to look weird, lighting his cigarette before taking one for yourself. 'Wow.. so confident, lighting his cigarette for him.' you quipped sardonically in your head as you lit the cigarette for your self and took a long drag from it.

JJ’s eyes widened a little in surprise when you stepped closer to him, so close that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. He watched you flick your lighter on, a small wave of excitement rushing through him as you held the light to his cigarette. He leaned his head forward slightly, putting the other end of the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag. He exhaled the smoke as he watched you light your own cigarette.

He almost laughed when he saw the small grimace that came across your face.

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes studying the features of your face. You looked so beautiful like this, in the soft light of the porch with a cigarette between your lips. It was enough for him to realize that he wanted to see you like this more - not just tonight but anytime he could.

He turned away slightly as he exhaled the smoke, trying to calm his thoughts once again. He didn’t know you and yet here he was, already getting addicted to being close to you and hearing you talk.

The cigarette was a welcome relief given the fact that you were on edge since you came to the stupid party, leaning on the railing and taking long drags to fill your lungs with the smoke, the nicotine swirling around in your brain. Here you were, smoking a cigarette casually with the guy you were pinning after for years. 3rd grade you would probably faint and break her glasses in 2 if she knew.

JJ silently watched how you exhaled the smoke that was going into your lungs. It was hypnotizing watching you do this, something about it just made him want to keep watching. It was just so oddly satisfying to watch you smoke. He knew it probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care in that moment. It was oddly pleasing in a way he couldn’t explain.

He took another drag, letting the cigarette sit between his lips as he spoke. "You smoke often?"

"Yeah.. helps with the whole social anxiety thing.." you nodded your words followed by a small dry chuckle as you side glanced at him, exhaling the smoke to the side to avoid blowing it directly in his face.

JJ couldn’t help but notice the little side glance at him. That action, for some reason, made his stomach flip and flutter like it had a mind of its own, the way your eyes fixed on him momentarily making him nervous for some reason. A small smirk formed on his face as he blew out his own puff of smoke.

"Social anxiety, huh?"

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes looking straight at you as he did. He chuckled slightly, he never thought you would be the type to suffer from social anxiety, mostly because of his prejudice towards your social status. You had always seemed so quiet and reserved, but he never assumed it was because of that. But, as he looked at you now, taking a puff of your cigarette and shyly glancing at him every so often, he was starting to realize that maybe social anxiety made sense. The thought made him realize that he really didn’t know you at all, and that he desperately wanted to change that.

He leaned against the railing once again, taking another drag from the cigarette as he decided on what to say next.

Before he had the chance to do so, none other than your best friend Maisy, burst through the front door, her eyes fixed on you and probably not noticing JJ at first, "Y/n/n! where have you been, girl? You just missed the whole ordeal with Maybank getting locked in a closet with some random girl. It was so crazy.. I looked for you so i could tell you all about it!" she gasped excitedly as she clasped her hands on your shoulders, her loud voice and sudden appearance startling you and JJ. She could not, for the life of her read the room. Ever.

JJ’s eyes immediately went from you to Maisy, he was going to attempt to make more conversation until your best friend burst through the door.

He stiffened at hearing his last name, instantly tensing at what Maisy had said, now staring at the strawberry blonde mess of hair when she stepped in front of him to grab your shoulders.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing over Maisy's shoulder to signal JJ's presence, glaring at her subtly. You didn't want her to say something stupid and reveal your feelings by mistake and embarrass you in front of him. Maisy’s eyes suddenly widened as she realized that she had walked out in the middle of a conversation you having with someone. She followed your gaze and looked over her shoulder, noticing JJ for the first time.

She gasped as her eyes widened even more, her look of surprise quickly turning into a smirk as she glanced back and forth from JJ to you.

You shook your head as if to say, 'don't, i'll kill you.

Maisy, the best friend she was, completely forgot about the look you had given her and the silent threat you were trying to convey in seconds upon receiving it. She had suddenly realized that you were standing beside JJ by yourself, and she was about to take full advantage of the situation. She smirked at you and wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, silently teasing you in her own way.

"Maisy. Please." you widened your eyes, silently scolding her and desperately suppressing the urge to groan out loud. Maisy was well aware of your MASSIVE years long crush on JJ, and you knew she was happy about this, in her own way, of course.

Maisy’s smirk grew as she saw how you widened your eyes and silently begged her not to say anything. She knew how big of a crush you had on JJ and how long you had wanted a moment like this. She was going to make the most of this.

She feigned innocence, silently raising an eyebrow at you as if to say "what".

JJ glanced back and forth between the two of you, picking up on the tension that he couldn’t fully understand. He glanced at you, noticing the look in your eyes as you looked at your friend. He could almost feel the pleading in your eyes, silently begging her not to say anything.

He looked at your friend, catching the smirk that was on her face. He silently tried to figure out what was going on. What was going through the mind of your bratty friend in that moment?

Mimsy glanced at JJ, noticing the curious look he had on his face. She couldn’t help but tease her friend, this was a once lifetime chance and she wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to tease her just a little.

She continued her innocent look as she turned back to you. She smirked as she leaned her head in your direction, acting as if she was going to whisper something into your ear. But instead, she spoke loudly, making sure JJ could hear her too. She loved tormenting you just a bit too much.

"You're alone with JJ Maybank of all people. How does it feel?"

Maisy said, a sly grin on her face as she watched your reaction. She was enjoying messing with you and making a fool of you in front of the guy that you liked a little too much for her liking. She didn't care, she loved embarrassing you. It was a friend’s right to tease their other friend in front of a potential love interest, right?

"Embarrassing, given you're here now." you glared at her, probably the most expressive JJ had seen you since you started speaking in the closet. A small sigh escaped your lips and you barely contained the urge to face-palm dramatically.

Maisy let out a loud gasp, acting as if she was offended by your words. She put her hand over her heart, a dramatic look crossing her face as she spoke. She was really enjoying this just so she could get a reaction out of you, which in turn would get a reaction out of JJ.

“Oh, wow. You’re being a bit rude, aren’t you? I can’t believe you’d say that in front of JJ. So insulting.”

JJ let out a stifled laugh as your friend dramatically pretended to be offended. He couldn’t help but find her antics amusing as he watched the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes. But he really couldn’t help but notice the glare you gave to your friend. It was the most expressive facial expression he had seen you wear so far, and he had to admit that he rather liked it. There was something about you standing up for yourself that he found attractive, even if it was just in a small way.

"And also I'm gonna kill you for ditching me like that.. " you added quietly, slapping Maisy's shoulder teasingly even though you were still glaring at her.

Misy let out another gasp as you slapped her shoulder. She feigned a look of pain on her face as she dramatically winced and rubbed the spot where you had slapped her in a playful way. She let out a loud melodramatic "ow". Clearly she was just messing with you at this point.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you. I just had to do something REALLLLYYY important." she countered, her words dripping with suggestive undertones rather than genuine apology.

"Like?" you raised one brow, feigning annoyance.

Maisy shrugged her shoulders slightly, trying her best to look innocent. It was all an act, and she was enjoying it so much. She loved getting a rise out of you just so she could see the way you reacted and how you acted in front of JJ. In another world, she would’ve been a professional drama actor with the way she was able to act so well.

"Just something..., you know. The usual. Important, fun, necessary stuff."

"You need to drive me home. I hate this stupid party." you put out your cigarette, sighing and groaning out loud this time as you adjusted your glasses, leaning away from the railing.

Your best friend laughed at your irritation. She knew that you hated parties and that you dreaded them, that’s why she’d convinced you to come to this one in the first place. It was just her way of being a good friend.

"Alright, alright. Stop being such a prude. I’ll take you home, you baby. Just let me say 'bye' to a few people first. You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"Ugh Maisy.. you're just gonna take forever." you groaned once again at the thought of having to follow her around while she bid her never-ending goodbyes.

"I'll just skate home. Where's your car? i left my board in there." at that point, given how quiet JJ was you forgot momentarily that he was there, speaking freely and more expressively.

Misy raised her eyebrows dramatically as you mentioned skating home. If there was one thing she hated more than parties, it was your habit of skating everywhere. It was like you were allergic to cars. She let out a fake gasp and dramatically put her hand on her chest like she had been wounded.

“Skate home this late!? Alone!? You’re joking right?”

"Unlock the car. I can see it from here." you deadpanned, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, nodding towards her car parked a bit messily on the lawn of the house.

Maisy scoffed and turned towards where her car was parked. She pulled out her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car.

“Ugh. Fine. But if you get kidnapped or murdered, I’m not taking the blame. You’re such a pain, you know that right?”

"Bye... I'll see you tomorrow when you're hung over." you waved a hand in her face dramatically, the gesture sarcastic.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your sarcastic wave. She couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a pain you were being. She put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at you in a sarcastic way.

“Ugh, thanks for that. I look forward to your sarcastic and overly annoying comments in the morning. See you, baby.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the house, heading back into the party with a smirk still on her face. She was beyond satisfied with herself. She had pushed your buttons enough for you to be a bit more expressive in front of JJ and get a reaction from both you and him. It was one of her favorite pastimes to see you flustered and a bit irritated just at her presence.

The moment she disappeared inside, the only person left outside on the porch was you and JJ.

After Maisy had gone back inside, the porch suddenly felt much quieter than before. The only sounds heard were the crickets in the background and the muffled noise from the party inside. JJ glanced over at you, his eyes studying your face once again. He couldn’t help but notice the change in your demeanor the moment your annoying friend left.

As soon as your best friend left you were aware that you were alone with JJ again. You glanced at him adjusting your glasses nervously, "sorry about that.."

JJ couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you nervously adjusted your glasses the moment you realised you were alone with him. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the railing of the porch once again, his gaze fixed on you.

"No need to apologize. Your friend is… something else.”

Back to clamming up like a dumbass you go. You nodded silently, a small apologetic smile tugging at your lips. You were going to skate home, but you weren't sure how to.. end the conversation with JJ? should you just leave? wave at him? no... that's too casual, he doesn't even know you. Saying bye felt pathetic.

JJ chuckled again as you fell back into your shy, nervous demeanor. He could tell that you were overthinking the entire situation in the moment, trying to find the right way to leave. He thought that you looked so awkward and nervous. It was almost cute how unsure of yourself you were.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a step towards you.

"You’re still gonna skate home?"

You hummed faintly and nodded, looking out to Maisy's car. You didn't hate the idea of skating home, given you had your earphones with you and you could just take a shortcut to your house from here.

He couldn't help but smirk slightly as you hummed weakly and nodded. He took a couple more steps towards you, closing the gap between the two of you completely. He stood right in front of you, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Not afraid of being kidnapped or murdered like your friend said?"

"I skate at night pretty often." you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, your voice back to its quiet and soft tone again.

JJ smirked even more as you stated your regular night time skating routine as if it was natural. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyebrows raising at the idea of you skating home alone in the dark so often.

"You skate at night often? You must have a death wish, doll."

You furrowed your brows at his nickname, whipping your head to look up at him with an expression resembling confusion. It was mostly to hide how flustered it made you, a small frown forming on your face, which wasn't supposed to be rude in any way, you were just... thrown off.

He smirked as you whipped your head up to look at him, your face showing a look of confusion mixed with… dare he say it, was that a hint of blush on your cheeks? He let out a small chuckle as he noticed your small, almost pouty frown. "What's with that look for, doll? You got a problem with the new nickname?"

You pursed your lips, as if mulling over the nickname in your head and dissecting it. He had no reason to call you that, but you knew JJ even though he didn't know you. You knew he was carefree and casual with everyone, so it wasn't hard for him to say certain things or make jokes. A part of you had always been envious of that, ever since you started liking him. Maybe that's why you liked him. He was the opposite of you, and in some ways you wished you could be like him, or like the girls you knew he usually went for.

He observed your facial expressions closely as you seemed to be deep in thought. He could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought about the nickname he had given you. He didn’t know why he called you "doll", it just came out naturally in the moment. He had a habit of nicknaming people, especially pretty ones, without even thinking about it. But for some reason, he was more interested in your reaction to it this time. It was the first nickname he had given you, and he wondered how you would react to it.

He chuckled softly to himself as he watched you purse your lips slightly, your facial expression almost looking like you were analyzing and dissecting the nickname he had given you. He couldn’t help but feel amused at the way you were acting. You were so quiet and soft-spoken, so different from anything he was used to. It was almost endearing in a way. He found your shyness refreshing and cute.

You decided you had enough of just standing there awkwardly and you looked up at him, nodding in greeting and walking towards the steps off the porch, your feet moving slowly, as if you were hesitating, afraid not to create a hole through the wood or something. You didn't wanna leave obviously, but you were awkward and weird and flustered easily and he was... well, JJ. You decided that you liked pining after him from afar from your camera lenses and behind corners rather than embarrassing yourself by talking to him face to face.

JJ watched as you nodded in greeting and began to walk down the steps of the porch. He let out a small chuckle as he noticed the slow and hesitant way you moved, as if you were afraid to break something on the way. He found your nervous mannerisms to be endearing, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in your head at that moment.

As you started walking away, he couldn’t help but step forward and speak up before you got too far.

"Hey, wait."

He took a few steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you again as he spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "You’re just gonna leave like that, doll?"

"Well.. yeah?" you grimaced hesitantly, curious as to why he seemed so adamant on speaking with you even though you were silent most of the time.

He raised an eyebrow at your hesitancy and grimace. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and interest at the fact that you were just going to leave without a second thought. He had wanted to talk to you more, and he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

"You can’t just leave after you’ve barely said anything at this party. You’re too quiet, it’s a little weird."

Ouch again. He probably didn't mean to make another stingy comment, but you still felt the sting a little. You didn't let it show though, raising your brows and adjusting your glasses, looking at him as if expecting him to continue, despite the obvious figurative period at the end of his sentence.

He noticed the subtle flash of hurt in your eyes at his comment, but he didn’t apologize for it. He had a reputation to maintain after all. He raised an eyebrow in return at your raised brows and expression, expecting you to say something. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was annoyed that you weren’t responding. "Is that all you’re gonna do, just stare at me?"

You looked to the side as if considering his question, nodding slowly and silently. You knew he probably didn't like it, you weren't the kind of person that would hang around JJ Maybank after all. But you couldn't help it, your brain just didn't wanna speak sometimes, it was like it was selectively mute, which was very asshole-ish of it.

He let out a low sigh at your nod and silent response. He found it both annoying and endearing at the same time how reticent you were. He wasn’t used to someone being this quiet and reserved around him. Usually girls would cling to him or talk endlessly, never shutting up.

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at you. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. "You can at least say something, doll."

"Something." you spoke without realizing, the word soft and quiet even though it was more sarcastic than anything.

A surprised laugh escaped his lips at your unexpected sarcastic response. He didn’t expect you to actually say something, let alone something sarcastic.

"Clever."

He said dryly as a smirk formed on his face, his eyebrows raising slightly. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit, he wasn’t used to people being sarcastic back to him, not someone as quiet as you anyway.

He leaned in slightly closer, his smirk slowly morphing into a small, amused smile. He liked how blunt and sarcastic you could be, and the fact that you were being sarcastic with him was almost funny. "You sure know how to make conversation, doll."

You raised your brows and nodded looking to the side once again as if to say 'i know right?', a small scoff leaving your lips.

He chuckled softly at your raised brows and subtle scoff. It was like you were trying to match his confidence and snarky attitude but by being quiet at the same time, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He took another small step forward, getting even closer to you. "You sure are a sassy one, doll. Most people would be a stuttering mess in front of me right now."

'I am stuttering... mentally.' you thought, fixing him with your gaze. You were sure you were plenty nervous in front him anyway, stuttering would just make you explode probably. You were sure that would actually happen if it came down to it.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes as you fixed him with a steady gaze. He knew that you were probably feeling very nervous and intimidated by his presence, but you were doing a good job at not letting it show. It was refreshing to him that you weren’t falling all over yourself in front of him like most girls did.

"You’re awfully quiet though. How come you’re not all over me like most girls are?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm and subtle curiosity.

'Oh, how i would love to-..' you stopped that thought before it actually finished in your mind, shaking it out of your brain quickly. Your version of being all over him was stalking him around and taking pretty artsy and stalkerish pictures of him from afar. Of course that was embarrassing to think about, especially when he was standing right in front of you, talking and giving you casual nicknames like 'doll and mouse.'

He noticed the brief second when you seemed to zone out for a moment before snapping yourself out of it. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the look that had crossed your face, if only for a split second. He raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor and wondered what had just gone through your head.

"You sure love zoning out, doll. You alright in that head of yours?"

You nodded swiftly, looking back up at him. Still, you couldn't seem to get a word out, which was becoming annoying for you. You can talk to him, he's not gonna bite.

He could sense your frustration at your inability to speak, even though he could also tell that you were trying to remain calm and collected in front of him. He found your struggle both endearing and irritating at the same time.

He chuckled softly before speaking again, his voice soft and casual. "You know you can talk to me, right? Like, actually say something out loud."

"I'm a girl of few words." you spoke up, pursing your lips gently as you looked up at him, nodding in a self-assured way.

He chuckled again at your response, his eyes fixed on your pursed lips. There was something strangely intriguing about the way you looked at him, even with your glasses in the way. "I can tell, doll. You’re practically mute." like an actual doll, that was even more funnier to think about in JJ's mind.

He found himself moving closer to you again, a smirk playing on his lips. He was enjoying the fact that you were struggling to speak, and secretly found it cute how shy and awkward you were around him.

"You’re a little mouse, aren’t ya? Too shy to talk?"

You hated that word when it was used to describe your quietness by others, but when it came out of his mouth and it rolled off his lips you found it almost... sweet. The way he seemed to weigh his words and keep his rowdy and loud behavior in check made you feel.. special? but also pitied, like he was scared of scaring you away. You raised your brows, adjusting your glasses and smiling slightly at him, nodding again after a few seconds.

He could see the hint of annoyance in your eyes when he called you a mouse, but it was gone as soon as he saw you smile slightly.

"Awww, look at that, she finally smiled. I didn’t think it was possible with you being so quiet."

He mocked your silence once more, just to tease you a bit more. He found your reactions and facial expressions entertaining, even if you were silent most of the time.

Somehow you found the courage to reach up and smack his shoulder playfully, glaring at him half heartedly. The action surprised even yourself, retracting your hand fast in fear that you might've made him uncomfortable.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise when you reached up and smacked his shoulder, the action catching him off guard. It was the first time you had physically touched him, and he couldn’t help but feel a small spark of electricity at the contact. He also noticed the way you retracted your hand quickly, as if you were afraid of what he might do.

He laughed softly at the look on your face, his smirk widening.

"Did you just SMACK me, mouse?"

"Sorry.." you stuttered out, stepping back a little nervously. It was supposed to be a casual teasing smack but as per usual, you made things awkward and weird. Just like you always did.

He chuckled again at your stuttered apology, the sound low and gruff. He found your nervous mannerisms and stuttering quite endearing. It was an odd thing, being intrigued by someone who hardly talked and was very awkward. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you again. "Don’t apologize, doll. I’m not mad." He said lowly, his smirk fading into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, turning away suddenly and walking towards Maisy's car to retrieve your board and skate home. God, you had spoken to him more than you ever did in these 8 years of pining after him. And it was so nerve wrecking, having someone have some much control over you without even knowing.

As you walked away, JJ couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment that you were leaving already. He watched you walk towards Maisy's car, and a part of him wanted to call out to you to stay, but he didn't.

He couldn't quite understand why, but there was something about you that he found strangely captivating. Despite the fact that you were very shy and awkward around him, he felt strangely drawn to you. He didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

He thought about calling out to you to wait, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he couldn't bring himself to speak up. Instead, he just watched as you walked away, his eyes fixed on your retreating form.

Maybe it was the way you had looked at him with those shy, behind-the-glasses eyes, or the soft, almost sarcastic responses you had given him despite your quiet nature. Something just made him want to keep talking to you, even if all you did was just nod and stay silent most of the time. Maybe that's what JJ needed, someone quiet enough to help him ground his loudness. But that thought was shaken away when he realized you were a stranger and the 2 of you might not even interact ever again.

JJ was still standing there at base of the porch steps, watching as you opened the back seat of Maisy's car. He raised an eyebrow at the state of the car, thinking to himself about how messy it was. As you retrieved your board from under the pile of clothes and Gatorade bottles, he watched your every movement intently.

When you suddenly turned around and waved at him, JJ couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he found the gesture strangely adorable.

He raised his hand in response, waving back at you.

"Night, mouse. Don't get lost on the way home."

He called out, his smirk returning to his face. He couldn't help but tease you a little before you left, it was too hard not to poke at your shy demeanor.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of the nickname again, placing your board on the sidewalk and glancing at him one last time before finally forcing yourself to skate away down the sidewalk, the sound of the party becoming distant as you skated down the street.

JJ watched as you placed your board on the sidewalk and started skating away. He couldn’t help but notice the small smile that had appeared on your face when he had called you 'mouse' again. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction being the cause of the smile, even if it was a small one.

—♡‧

A/n: Okay so... what do we think about the first interaction? I decided mid-way that I'm making this multiple parts..☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ if this does well I'll post part 2.. JJ is such a yapper, and the reader is.. not. I'll take this down if people don't read it but i have an entire story about these 2 :( I'm just curious if this was too long

[thatgirlthatwritessmut]

weird rq but likeeee? oh well here we go ! so basically rafe and yn are dating but then she finds out about the sheriff peterkin thing from ju and when rafe comes home she is PACING. she and rafe have a conversation and she goes to call the police but then rafe doesn't want to go to jail and tries to say it's because JJ doesn't like him and she obviously doesn't believe it so he like thinks about killing her but then ends up locking her in the thingy majigy I forgot what it's called til she changes her mind

idea honestly came from this song so !

calm down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rafe cameron x female reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ~ your boyfriend rafe locks you in a room until you calm down after finding out about him killing sheriff peterkin.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ dark!rafe, violence, toxic behaviors, unhealthy relationship, emotional outbursts, kisses, crying.

—————

your friends and lover never got along. there was always something coming up. your pogue friends would always tell you that you should break up with rafe but you simply wouldn’t. even though you were pretty sure he was a psychopath you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

rafe didn't make it easy though. he was short tempered and ill mannered. sometimes you wanted to smack him across the face for the words that spilled from it. at times you did let your feelings get the best of you and the shape of your handprint would take over the pale flesh of his cheek. he would soon grab a hold of you and the two of you would tussle around but it wouldn't be long till your lips crashed on his inhaling his toxicity.

you knew this relationship was bad for you but you were blinded by love and desire which made the recent information that you were given hard to swallow.

you're taking your family boat out enjoying the air from the sea before you get a text from your friend jj.

jj: y/n I need you to meet me at my place. we need to talk. now.

confusion corses through your body as you quickly reply back.

y/n: jj what's going on?

jj: just hurry and get here fast.

you immediately put your phone aside as you grab a hold of the steering wheel on the boat and head for the dock. once you arrive you tie it up. as you finish you dash towards your car, hitting the gas. its not long till you're on jj front porch knocking on the door filled with worry. jj quickly opens the door and pulls you in without a word. "jj...whats going on?!" you say breaking the silence. he stares at you calculating his words. "you won't believe me.". "how could you know that?" you say slightly annoyed. "because its involving your boy toy...". your body freezes suddenly becoming breathless. "r-....rafe?- what the fuck did he do now?". "something bad. something he's not going to come back from...well he might because he's blaming everything he did on john b.". "what?!...why the hell is he doing that?". jj goes silent again. 'WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO JJ?!" you finally shout.

“HE SHOT SHERIFF PETERKIN!”

as you hear those words you step back not believing what's been said. "no....NO! that can't be true. he's done his fair share of fucked up things but he would never go as far as....as far as...murder.". 'oh yeah? that's funny because I saw him with my own eyes. me, kie, pope, john b, and even sarah. she'll tell you what he did and that's her own blood!".

you shake your head, tears beginning to blur your vision. you try to speak through your tightened throat. "whe-...when did this happen?". "recently....I wanted to let you know sooner but a LOT as been going on. I wasn't sure if you were at his place or not so i texted you as soon as i could. you're not safe around him y/n!". you stare at the wall choked up before making your way to the door.

"hey! where are you going?". jj quickly foots behind you not letting you out of his sight. as you walk outside you run to your car not looking back. "y/n don't do this! you hear me? don't!". you ignore jj's commands entering your car and slamming the door behind you. "I'm getting to the bottom of this! don't follow me!". with that said you put your car in reverse and make your way to the cameron house.

~~~~

you’re pacing at the front door as rafe arrives home. he glances at you surprised by your presence. as he locks the door he greets you. “hey baby. you didn’t tell me you were stopping by-”. “did you kill sheriff peterkin?”. he face stiffens as he looks up from the lock and stares at the door back facing you. silence takes over the house as your movements stop as well, eyes burning a hole into his neck. you repeat your question. “DID YOU KILL-”. “who told you that?” he snaps, turning around now stepping towards you with speed. “don’t worry about who. answer my damn question rafe!”. his jaw clenches as he stares at you then looks away trying to come up with a lie. “no. john b did.”. you immediately strike back. “liar….i know you’re not telling the truth i can see it in your face!”. you point your finger at him disgusted that he has put you in this position.

rafe begins to shake his head. “not here. not while wheezy and rose is at home okay? lets-”. “NO! no! you will not push me away rafe! why not tell the truth why not tell them that you KILLED SHERIFF PETE-”. rafe grabs you and takes his hand to your mouth silencing your words. “i really wish you wouldn’t do that.” he says, his strength besting you. “get off of me!” you say muffled as you push him away only being able to break free because he allowed you. the two of you stare at each other silently before you speak once again. “rafe…i’m going to ask you one last time. did. you. kill. sheriff. peterkin?”.

he narrows his eyes at you before shaking his head once again. you force a smile as you nod. “…okay…well i guess i’ll find out once the police hears about this won’t i?”. you make your way to the door and he blocks your path. “what does that mean?”. “oh you know what it means.”. his icey glare slightly scares you but you don’t let it show. you inch closer to him. “what now rafe?…are you going to shoot me too?”. you see the gears start to turn in his head, like he was actually considering the idea.

you try to push past him again but now you’re met with his hand to your neck. “r- rafe?” you stutter gripping his wrist. he starts backing you to a door glaring at you with every step. when your back hits the door you yell. “let me go!”. he doesn’t listen pulling you to the side by your neck as he opens the room and throws you inside of it. you fall to the ground wincing in pain. as you look back you watch him swiftly close the door. as you lay on the ground you start to hear a locking sound. you eyes widen and you panick. “no..NO! RAFE!”. you get up from the floor, pacing to the door and begin pounding it. “LET ME OUT!” you scream, beginning to kick. “i’m not letting you out, y/n. not until you calm down, okay?”. “screw you!” you shout through the door. “i’m trying to be civil here, and you’re freaking out right now.”. as your face turns with anger you suddenly hear a familiar voice coming down the stairs.

“rafe what the hell is going on? who is that?”. “r- rose?” you say thankful that she was here. “is- is that y/n?” rose says confused. “yeah.” rafe admits. “why is she locked in there?”. you immediately answer. “rafe locked me in!”. “she’s locked in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right? she just didn’t get that.”. he then turns to the door so he can make sure you hear him. “you fail to understand that constantly, don’t you? huh? DONT YOU?”. he brings his fist up to punch the door. “shut the hell up!” you scream as you push your shoulder into the wood standing between you two hoping to break the lock. “you need to CALM DOWN!” he yells back at you. “what do you mean calm down?!” you reply. but then the other side of the door goes quiet. as a little time goes by you hear something again.

“y/n…what is it going to be?”. your pounding stops as you hear rafe’s voice again. “where is rose?”. “she went upstairs okay? i told her you’re fine which you are.”. “RAFE! stop it now! let me out!”. “i’ll only let you out once you promise me that you won’t go to the cops. so i’ll say it again...what is it going to be?”. you stop responding. soon rafe presses his ear to the door confused but quickly hears a glass shattering against the door. “LET ME OUT ASSHOLE!”. “okay. I’ll give you some time to come to your senses.”. as you hear his steps grow distant you punch harder. “let me out!” you insist. “i really wanna help you, but i need you to help me too okay?” rafe says as he walks up the stairs. you begin to repeat the word “no” over and over again not wanting to stay in the room another minute. “rafe? rafe?…please don’t leave!” you say softly as you give up on breaking the door. you slowly fall to the floor backing up into a corner bringing your knees to your chest. you cover your face as tears fill your eyes. you couldn’t believe what was happening.

after a while you hear the lock turning. you lift yourself from the floor watching as rafe opens the door. “y/n? have you calmed down?”. you nod your head repeatedly slowly walking towards him. as you walk out the door he grabs a hold of your waist. “i hope you can forgive me. i never want you to have to see me like that but you gave me no choice.” he says wiping your tears away with his thumb. your head nods as you sniffle. he then plants a kiss on your cheek then temple as he pull you into a hug. as he locks you into his warm embrace your mind fills with one thought.

should you protect your friends or your lover?

writers note ~ sorry if this feels rushed. lots have been going on in my life. i hope you still enjoyed !! :)

[spideyanakin]

Reader being a cat to reveal who the traitor is genius. And I think peter noticed the symbolism behind it.

The part with the widow pearls was sad, rip regulus 😔

I cant wait to read more on reader being Madam Black 🤭

THANK YOU HIHIHIHIHI

I'm so glad you noticed <3 I was so happy when I came up with the idea of the cat hihi. Also reg will always be in our hearts ♥️

here is mr black and mrs black reuniting to heal our hearts

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, the order takes a break after peter has been caught, sirius joins you outside for some fresh air (and some revelations)

warnings - revelations and reunions <3, yearning, longing, and everything in between. mentions of minor character death (r's mom who was sick), smoking (s bad for u), james being a menace, spot the Metallica reference lmao

read the part before

The soft autumn air suddenly felt heavy.

You kept facing the sea, watching as the waves grazed the sand below the cliff. You could feel Sirius shifting beside you, the sound of his leather jacket, the zipper of a pocket, and the crisp sound of a cigarette box with the wrapper still half on.

The spark of his lighter caught the corner of your eye, and soon after followed a cloud of smoke gently blown your way by the wind.

With your gaze still fixed on the waves, you saw his hand move towards you, offering you his cigarette. You took it without a second thought. You hadn't smoked since the last time you had seen him.

You took two long drags before you handed it back to him, your gazes still refusing to meet.

A sense of deja vue filled you. Suddenly you were back atop the astronomy tower at the start of your seventh year. Tension slithering between you before it would hopefully crack.

You knew how it had gone the last time. You could never stay apart from him for long. You had always felt close, no matter how far. No matter how many times life has pulled you away from one another, you still felt that tug, that string pull you towards him.

But no matter how hard it was, there was a reason the two of you had called it off the last time. There was a reason you had tried to break that unbreakable string.

You were to be married to his brother, which you now were.

You had pledged your allegiance to the dark lord.

There wasn’t a world anymore where the two of you could have attempted keeping this up.

In 7th year, you were already risking your life sneaking around. You had both risked your lives trying to see each other after graduation, and then he had risked his life coming to see you, for one the last time, the night before your wedding.

The grey area you had been dancing around had been reduced to ashes by the exceedingly fast brewing war.

And now, as you smoked together watching the waves dance upon the sand, it seemed that maybe, just maybe there was a flicker of hope for a happy ending.

But how could he forgive you for never choosing him?

After an unknown number of smoke clouds, he sighed. It wasn't out of annoyance. It was soft, as if he was finally getting rid of an unknown tension that prevented him from voicing anything.

"How have you been?" You could tell he had a hard time asking. Voice laced with rugged emotions as he kept his gaze toward the waves.

You finally dared to look at him.

"Frankly, I do not really know. You?"

He laughed the tension out his shoulders, "frankly? I don't know either."

"Well, that makes two of us."

It took him another minute before he looked at you after he discarded his cigarette.

You stayed without a word spoken as he scanned your face. Your tired eyes peering back at him.

His hair was longer than when you last saw him, and a huddle of tattoos peeked out of his clothes anywhere skin would dare show. You could tell he was probably just as tired as you, but his eyes still held that fire you loved so much about him.

Salazar you had missed him.

But emotions didn't have time to surface because soon enough his gaze tore away from you, and you found yourself looking down to your shoes.

"How long have you been on our side?" He asked, and you heard him huff as he tried fishing for a second cigarette.

"Since we left Hogwarts."

You watched as Sirius dropped his lighter, a surprised groan leaving his lips.

You both bent down to pick it up, fingers brushing as you reached for the lighter first. You handed it to him.

It felt like sparks flew from the mere brush of your hands, and you knew Sirius had felt it too by the surprise in his eyes. With a second too long of your hands lingering, you finally spoke through the ice.

"I missed you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were working for the order?" His voice was soft, and you carefully scanned his traits as he placed his new cigarette to his lips and lit it.

"To keep you safe."

"I could have handled it."

"Sirius..."

"I can't believe it."

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"If I’m being honest, yeah!" His voice rose from an octave or two until he got quieter again. "After you refused to come with me, twice. Yeah. Especially since, apparently, the second time I asked, you were already allied with Albus."

"Sirius..." you trailed as you watched him advert your gaze as he burned away his cigarette, sighing half of the smoke through his nose.

"You couldn't leave. I know." He looked down.

"I wanted to," you stepped closer to face him, trying to gain his eyes. "You out of anyone should know how desperately I wanted to be like you, be with you," your voice quivered. "But I had strings attaching me there, I had my mother to take care of, and then- then when she passed and I finally thought I could leave, that nothing kept me back anymore I-" You stopped in your rambles, too afraid of voicing the rest of your thoughts.

Sirius was staring back at you with glassy eyes, mouth slightly agape at your sudden confession. You were about to leave. You were actually going to, but then his face hardened again, the sudden reminder of reality hitting him.

He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what had kept you there. If his information was correct your son was born around nine months after your wedding. Your mother died barely two months after the ceremony.

"Another string kept you attached."

"Yes," your voice was hoarse over the suppression of your tears, and it took you another minute before you managed to use your voice again. "I didn't mean it to."

That seemed to get his attention, and you watched as confusion riddled his eyes.

You took in a sharp breath. You weren't even close to ready to have this conversation, but here you were, plotting against the dark lord, not even being sure of making it past these next few weeks.

It was now or never.

"Breaks over!" James's voice rang from the opened window, causing your shoulders to jump at the interruption.

Sirius dropped his dying cigarette before pressing it with his foot and giving you the best sad and tired smile he could muster as he headed back to the door.

"Wait, Sirius," you caught his arm before he could grab the handle. "If anything were to happen... to me or r-" you caught yourself. "If anything were to happen, promise me you will take care of Perseus."

You could feel him tense under your touch at the mention. His expression almost stoic as his movements fully stopped.

He caught your gaze and suddenly something seemed to shift in him, he almost smiled.

"So that's the little rascal's name."

The lightness in his voice took you aback, and you almost smiled too.

"Yes. Perseus Sirius Black," you sheepishly mumbled and watched his eyes widen.

"Is that why Walburga and Orion finally kicked the bucket? Must of given them both of heart attack," he mumbled and this time you couldn't help but smile.

"No," you bit your lip. "Your mother insisted he wore Reg’s name. We told her he did but we wrote Sirius on the official papers."

"First borns usually take their middle names after their fathers."

“They do…"

Sirius couldn’t decipher your expression but took it as a sheepish ‘we broke the rules, so what’ because he couldn’t even dare to even think of looking into the fact that you could mean anything else by it.

"Didn't take my brother for a sentimental," he muttered before fixing his hair in attempt to distract himself. "I'll do what I can, but I promise you, it won't come to that. You'll come home to him."

He reached for the door again, and the burning feeling that after tonight, you weren’t sure when you would see him again came nagging at your gut.

The same voice rang through your mind again.

It was now, and If not, the possibility of never.

"Regulus never laid a finger on me," you blurted out.

Sirius turned back to you with a confused expression, one hand already on the door handle.

"We, um-" You were blinking extremely fast now, heart fluttering uncontrollably as he awaited for you to elaborate. "Weneverconsummatedthemarriage."

"Sorry?" Sirius tried to comprehend the string of blabber. He had heard it. But it just didn't make sense in is mind.

Nope. Absolutely zero sense.

But then by the look of absolute terror and pain in your eyes, he seemed to connect two and two together.

His jaw opened by itself, literally like one of those muggle cartoons Lily made Harry watch on Friday nights using what she called a TV.

He wanted to speak. Say something, anything. But all words died down in the back of his throat.

Suddenly Sirius fell. One second he was leaning against the door and the next he was being swished backwards and harshly onto the wooden floor of location twelve, which didn't make any sense because there was supposed to be a door behind him.

He blinked to realize that his hand was indeed still securely on the handle of said door, with James sheepishly on the other side of it.

"Prongs!"

"Sorry mate didn't know you were behind it." He looked at you and then back at Sirius, "we're waiting for you."

[haveihitanerve]

BUS! I know I came back to land for a reason…

Also- for-word: um. Be prepared? Its not innocent. At all. Not about a bus. Um. yeah. Don't watch around people. Yeah. thats all the advice i can offer. Now go off into the world Penelope Jemima B. D. And show the world who you are 😭

(the amount of distress i had while watching this is insane) anyway:

Idk what AJ and Tom were saying at the very beginning but cuteness 

“You're gonna fucking love it.” Tom is an iconic king but also AJ and Sam laughing at his dumb little jokey intro will always be the cutest thing to me

“Hopefully in that order…” yes please lol

“BUS!” AJ really enjoyed that- gorgeous cackle, 10/10. Sam doesn't know what to do with that and Tom has just reverted to repeating it bc… wow

“First murder.” “last murder” goodness gracious what lmaooo

Toms little pat on AJ’s back as they started the scene 😭

AJ awkwardly scooting away as Sam comes closer but also moving closer because he needs to at all times be touching them 😭

“You don't see young people reading anymore.” Ok idk if its intentional or not but every time we get a scene like this in any way sam always starts insulting young people for being on their “tablets and iphones” and etc etc, and i don't know if its an actual grievance that he has at this point lmao(even tho we as fans connect to them thru this but wtv lol) or if hes mocking old people for their grievances and either one works for me really lol i just wanna knowww

Sam: Good book? AJ: *every book ever created ever in the history of ever leaves his mind* yeah yeah, uh u-yeah uh its the-the the- the sexbook. Yeah thats such a good book AJ, i agree

“Quite a coincidence.” AJ: *blinks, not sure what to do with that information just casually dropped with nothing else* wha-what Sam: *smirks* Tom: *offstage* :D 

Sam: I wrote the sexbook Tom: *oh did you??* *legs crossed, hand over mouth, classic tom pose that slays every. single. time.*

“Arthur big dick” Tom shaking with silent laughter, AJ almost caving with a laugh, Sam laughing as he says it. Idk shared laughter means a lot to me

“Name five of them.” No thats foul- because AJ couldn't even think of one and now you’re making him come up with fivvveee titles sam??? Thats loowwww XD

“Big Dick 1, 2, 3 ,4 and 5.” The groan of the crowd lmaooo- they really wanted to hear AJ come up with creative titles lol

Tom’s disappointed nose pinch in the corner XD

“Im just gonna fangirl here real quick-” yes AJ! Yes! Finally we are represented!!

Sam: You're a girl? *slowly removes his hand from Aj’s shoulders* AJ: *did not think that far ahead, nor that it’d be commented on* ye-yes? Sam: ah.*contemplates* this is much creepier than I thought it was LMAOOOOO (Toms little grin shaky laugh in the corner 🫠)

“I just feel like your writing- it just really gets to the heart of- of the sexual experience.” truly, inspirational work Sam

“Didn't like it.” Silence as AJ just stares at him. :| yes. Do continue. 👀

Tom and AJ’s laugh as Sam just doesn't answer XD

“He-hello?” AJ sounded genuinely concerned for Sam lol

“Where did you go?” “the sea.” regrets it before the words are even out- XD

The way they both broke, shook for a few seconds, and then straightened in sync is insane

Its like a fricking switch was flipped holy shit- laughing- then suddenly sitting upright and focused again lol wow

Toms little giggling in the corner omfg-

“Are you getting off? Whe-where are you getting off?” He heard the joke and immediately corrected lmaooo

“Well, turn to page seven!” “Ahhh!” “Ahhh!!” the whole finger pointing and like “hahahaha i knew you'd say it you shit” is amazing and i adore it

“How old are you?” Has to clarify for the scene, i appreciate it sam lol

“32. How-how-” “okay.” “okay.” yeah maybe its better not to clarify sam’s age- seeing as hes been at sea for 60 years yet was clearly an adult when he wrote the book and- lets not get into it

“Im actually getting off at the next stop-” “mhumhmh” AJ and Tom’s little smiles at his dumbass joke ahhhh i love

Also- side note- his book gets off already at page seven??? Thats pretty early right? Or am i tweaking? Actually its a book about sex called Sexbook so nevermind, ignore me

“Im actually a writer myself.” “oh really? What have you written?” “big vagina 1, 2, 3.” Sam completely folds at that, and Tom’s little smile as AJ smirks, proud of himself ahhh such dorks :) 

“But i haven't- *breaks* i haven't released any yet because *voice shakes with laughter* im too afraid. *sam casually dying in the background trying not to laugh* Im too afraid of showing my work *breaks again* cause i will be judged.” The hand to the heart is truly my favorite thing XD

“Jemima.” Sam: *shit what was my name again* AJ: Arthur B. D. Sam: *thats right thank you* Arthur B. D. WOW!!! AJ remembered a name!!! Brilliant. 

Brilliant stagecraft of leaving the bus AJ, adore

Tom gets to be in a scene now! Yay!

“Boys…” Sam thought he could sit down and relax- nope! AJ is trying, but, yep he has to stand again too lol

Tom unbuttoning his shirt just to reveal a shirt underneath is a power move holy shit-

“As the united kingdom communist part we just cant take that.” Tom squints at him: mmmhmmm. *shakes head because he does not like that* Sam: *does it back equally as passive aggressive* mmmmmhhhmmm

“Us fine upstanding, british *lacking a very substantial british accent* communists that we are.” 

I see Tom is trying to revive Xavier???? Or smth…

“Oh what did you just stutter to me?” His strut-

AJ’s tongue in cheek smile as he approaches-

That chin tilt???????? Oh ma my my-

“How did you get my name so wrong?” ahh how quickly the mighty fall😔

“Magnus o. Puss.” AJ’s almost break at the name lmaooo

“Cause i have a full magnus full of o puss.” Sam’s breaking of character so completely that he just covers his face in shame lmaooo XD

“You just wiped your nose.” “Sorry.” “you're wearing a jumper.” wow tom- just insult everything about him i guess XD AJ: 😔sorry…

Aj trying to escape the scene. Tom: don't just sit down and cry! No mercy…XD

“Flatmate.” “oh!” AJ’s relief lmaooo

Tom: I’m the other flatmate. :/ keep trying buddy, one day you'll join the scene again lmaooo

“Get on the couch.” “how was your day?” “how was your day?” “how was your daaaay?” the way theyre actually sitting really close together with Tom almost leaning against Sam’s shoulder 🫠

“You know, my writing,” “We’re big fans.” Tom casually interrupts to clarify and support- and like- i know its for the scene and they’re building a really quick relationship- but AJ actually is a writer/director and they do actually watch his stuff-😭- anyway-

Sam and Tom’s continuous looks at each other “Oooooooh!”

“Its from your time.” THERE WE GO!!! SOME OLD JOKES!!!! “Oh yeah, just us two 65 year old women with our 32 year old flatmate!” lmaoooo they're all women and not one of them originally meant to be XD

“Well we were five.” “At first it didn't do much for us.” I would hope not Tom, but thanks for clarifying…

“As we matured-” “as we matured-” “Like our bible-” “like our bible-” im loving this casual repetition they have going on, wonderful

“It was spiritual but also exciting.” “like cocaine.” “like cocaine.” Sam would know… and still with the repetitions XD

“That would be convenient to the plot.” I love how Sam feels the need to say this aloud and not just subtly hint at it- because knowing the two idiots he’s on stage with- sorry, chaos demons- they would totally let him try to build it up like that, and then never actually get the plot going in that direction lmaooo

“Oh my gosh.” Sam and Tom both cracking at his gasp- now drum roll, will Aj stick to the plot or is he throwing in a curveball???

“Is it convenient to the plot?” Tom looks like he doesn't want it to be- just to annoy Sam lmaooo

“And i looked out the window temporarily-” *almost breaks* Aj- i love you, but there are more casual ways to let this further the plot, you know that right XD

“Well this sounds perfectly plausible.” After he and Tom just destroyed any way it could be plausible

“You've cracked my code did you?” we get a snippet of Aj’s delightful laughter, beautiful

“Pass the torch up. There you go.” AJ: *finger point of “clever”* lol

“You cant go off again back to sea.” “..okay.” AJ’s break at the easy agreement lol-

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW i did not expect a cute hug scene!!!!!! Yay!!!! 🫠💗

Ok- i will be honest- i really though Aj was going in for a kiss at first- and i kind of believe Sam thought so too with the whole “i always wanted a daughter” to solidify its purely sweet and not romantic just in case aj gets any more ideas lol

Sam’s “oh!” and hunch drop into Big Dick because he thought he was Tom’s assistant??? And not big dick, but here he is again lmaooo

Tom’s little vibrating act made AJ fold and i think its wonderful XD

Tom climbing on a chair because he needs to be taller ofc, classic

“You could look, im not wearing underwear.” Sam, not only looking, but doing the appreciate, yeah head nod is crazy

“Im everything you fear.” AJ interrupting his build up to monologue to snort is priceless

“You were just a lowly intern-” Hang on a fucking minute sam- Tom is how old???? That was 60 years ago- i don't care how young and lowly he was- he was at least a teenager which makes him a seventy something yead old man- y'know what its better not to ask

“Even you couldn't… open it.” Tom freezing in place in an effort not to laugh, Sam’s head hanging in disappointment, and AJ just having the time of his life 

THEM GENUINELY JUST LETTING/MAKING AJ WRITE THE ENDING OF HIS SEX BOOK ON STAGE IS THE BEST AND CRAZIEST THING EVER WHAAAAAAAT

Tom’s little head drop forward like “what are you saying aj? Oh you're doing this? Okaaay…” 

“Penelope.” sam. Sam. sammy. Samuel. Its Jemima. 

“Im trapped in a vagina.” Tom, AJ, and Sam all cracking at the perfectly set up joke, classic

“How is he doing this?” Sam not helping at all and making AJ come up with it XD

“He says it just- hes a ghost.” AJ has given up lmaooo

“Astral penetration.” AJ BREAKING FULLY, FOLD ON STAGE, MID STAGE!!!!

“Magnum o, full stop, puss.” Sam checking his watch to see how much he has to speed this up lmaoooo

“Hell die inside of that vagina.” *both break* XD

“Im in my office on another floor…” Tom really wanted to be in the scene and they keep forcing him out XD

“Hes astral penetrated me-” Sam fully folds on stage too- he knew, he just knew AJ would make it weird- specifically made it so that they were established as daughter-dad relationship- and yet AJ still found a way LMAOOOO

“Don't make me call security.” “Call security! I don't care!” “Security.” “JA. I am secure.” Tom baby im just not sure thats what he meant XD

“Im just going to put this out there: we have several copies.” lmaooo Aj come on!

“But then your friend would die inside wouldn't he?” AJ: *HAHAH FUCK YOU!!!* “ahh fuck.” Sam is impressed lol

WHERE DID HE GET THE SWORD?????

[drenched exit] sam: awww come on! *disappointed as though he didn't help set it up*

[door closes with a moist SMACK] Tom: *smiles because hes proud of himself*

“You've been meditating inside a big member!” why do they keep making it worse better

[juicy splash] Sam: *makes sound of disgust and disappointment*

“Its perfectly natural!” You tell ‘em king!

Physic powers?????

“You-you've pinned it to the wall.” … aj… theres no emoji or anything to convey my expression rn, but i assume its the same as yours so… yeah…

“You must challenge him.” AJ: *breaks fully because he did not expect sam to just appear behind him while hes being tortured?? by a man rubbing his own nipples*

“Feel the tension!” i feel the tension alright😭

Aj having to laugh mid battle (real) because  w h a ha t???

What is going on😭😭😭

OH MY GOD WHAT???? SAM ESCAPED THE VAGINA????

pleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasekisspleasekiss

“That vagina was so acidic.” Sam please don't say things like that while you're dying in AJ’s arms- XD

“Im so happy i met you on the bus that day.” You mean literally that morning?? Or did i miss a time jump?

“The big vagina 4. *moans*” Death. 

aj helping tom up from the floor😭🫠

AND, SCENE!!! wow. That was… wow. Ok. Um. So. If you couldn't tell, i got very distressed towards the end. Like very. It was very good though, kinda what i expected. I’m sad Luke isn't there but glad he wasn't because it would have been so much worse 😭 but uh. Yeah. that was fun! So… hope you enjoyed???

@snek-of-eden you were so right, the chaos is unmatched and wow. Thank you!!

@dawn-speckled

[mommyslittlebird]

A Room of Your Own

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After getting kicked out of your college dorm, you find yourself living with two older strangers. It was never meant to be anything more than a temporary arrangement born out of necessity, but as the semester continues, something new starts to grow.

CW: Homophobia, Getting Kicked Out, Slow Burn (No sex or romance in this chapter), Age Gap

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m back from the dead, though probably not in the way you wanted or expected. I had to take a (not so) little break from one-shots and smut for the time being for some personal reasons. But I’m still finding ways to write and enjoy myself. Some of you probably have already seen this. It’s been up on AO3 for a while now. But I figured I’d post it here too.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing any sort of slow burn, so we'll see if I can resist having them all fall into bed together in the first few chapters. I also don't know how to write an introductory chapter without making it boring as shit, so I at least made it short to spare you all. I promise it gets better.

Chapter 1 of A Room of Your Own

You sat, knees curled to your chest, on the curb in front of what used to be your dorm. It was late, a little after midnight, and absolutely pouring rain.

Three days. You had been in the dorms for three days and you had already been kicked out. You’d expect some pushback, going to a religious college and being queer, but nothing like this. Nothing like getting kicked out of your dorm in the middle of the night because you were making your roommates uncomfortable. You’d tried so hard to get them to like you. They seemed sweet. Not your type of people, sure, but you thought the three of you could get along just fine.

As it turns out, they were actually so repulsed by your presence they couldn’t even wait until classes started to kick you to the curb. Literally.

“Hey!” Somebody shouted from the doorway, holding a large umbrella. You turned to see her approaching and shrunk back in on yourself. You didn’t think you could handle anymore ridicule that evening.

When you didn’t respond or turn to face her, she sat down next to you, sure to cover you with the umbrella as well. She spoke softer now. “Hey. I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

You still didn’t speak, but you looked at her now, partially soaked from where she was sitting next to you on the wet concrete. “I’m Yelena.” She reached her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You recognized her from your dorm floor, though you’d only ever seen her in passing.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she smiled softly. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the raining night.

“Do you have anywhere to go? For tonight I mean. I would offer you to stay in my room, but…” she turned back to the door of the building. You both knew you couldn’t go back in there.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought where you would stay tonight. You could always stay in your car. It wouldn’t be the first night you’ve slept in the backseat. Still, the sopping wet clothes would surely make for a morning full of rashes and blistered skin.

Yelena sighed, looking at the ground. She was silent for a moment before she came up with an idea. “Let me call my sister. She and her wife have a massive place not so far from here. They’ll have a bedroom or two to spare.”

Before you could form a rebuttal of any sort, Yelena pushed the umbrella into your hands and dashed back inside. You tucked the umbrella between your leg and the crook of your arm, resting your head on your knees.

It wasn’t very long before Yelena was by your side again. “Okay she’s on her way. She’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

You didn’t look at her, facing intentionally in the other direction. You felt so horrible. You just wanted to curl up and disappear. And now you were going to be picked and taken to the home of some random classmate’s sister? You try to formulate a response, a reason that you will be fine on your own, but there was nothing. It was either this or the back seat of your 1993 Toyota Corolla. Somehow, you bet Yelena wasn’t going to take that as a reasonable explanation as to why she should call off her sister.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked weakly.

She sighed and put her hand on your back. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if you really want me to.”

You finally turned to face her. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of leaving. She was probably a freshman. It was her first couple days in the dorm too and everything was so new and exciting. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home with her sister.

“No it’s okay,” you responded. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone else tonight, and it’s not like a freshman you hardly knew was going to bring you much solace anyway.

She patted your back. “They’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Before too much longer, Yelena stood up at the sight of headlights. She waved her arms in an “over here” motion. The car approached Yelena, stopping hard in front of the curb you were sitting on. The tires splashed you in rainwater and mud. Yelena winched, walking back towards you to usher you into the car.

She led you to the passenger door, popping it open and peeking her head in. “This is your girl,” she said, pointing back towards your soaked, mud covered figure. She motioned for you to sit.

You hesitated. The car looked nicer than any you’d ever been in before. The idea of ruining the nice leather seats made you want to shrink further into your ball of shame.

The woman in the driver's seat noticed your hesitation, but didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned with her seat. “Come on in,” she ushered. “Get out of that rain.”

You handed the umbrella back to Yelena, reluctantly taking a seat in the car. Yelena peaked her head back in to say “take care of her,” before closing the door and scurrying back into the dorms.

The woman looked at you, reaching up to pop on the overhead light. The sight of her in the light nearly took your breath away. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe you’d seen her around town. You sharply inhaled as the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen leaned over the console towards you. She frowned. “Oh you poor thing!” She reached out to wipe off your face. You cringed when you saw the mud smear across the sleeve of her jacket. “Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she turned the light off before pulling out of the parking lot. You fought the urge to curl up in her passenger seat, fearing further ruining her seats with the dirty bottoms of your shoes. When you didn’t speak, she offered up an introduction of her own. “My name is Natasha. I don’t know what Yelena’s told you, but I’m her sister. My wife and I have a place not so far from here.”

“I’m Y/N” you managed.

“A friend of Yelena’s?” She asked.

You chuckled a little. “I suppose you could say that. We met about 20 minutes ago.”

Natasha chuckled. “Of course. Leave it to Yelena to seek you out after such an injustice.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wished you had heard the phone conversation so you could gauge just how much she knew.

It was as if Natasha could read your mind when she started next with the details of the phone call. “Yelena told me you got kicked out of the dorm by the other girls. They were uncomfortable because you were gay? I never expected to hear anything like that happening in 2024, but I guess I stand corrected.”

Well, that was one way of telling the story. At least Yelena had left out the peeping Tom allegations that got you chased off the floor by everyone who had to share a bathroom with you. They weren’t true, of course, but the fact that you’d made people so uncomfortable they were willing to name you a pervert without second thought made your skin crawl.

After a short, largely silent car ride, Natasha pulled the car into a garage. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the house, both because of the dark and getting lost in your own thoughts, but even by the state of the garage you could tell it was nice.

Natasha got out of the car, unlocking the door and leading you into the kitchen. You took your shoes off by the door, then decided to take your socks off too to avoid tracking muddy water through the house. The woman took your hand and guided you to the stairwell, then to a bathroom. She turned on the lights and opened up a cabinet, pulling out fresh towels and washcloths.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and sheets. The bedroom is through here.” She opened a door that revealed a sizable bedroom connected to the bathroom. You could hardly believe this wasn’t the master suite she’d led you too.

She turned to face you, exhaling as she once again took in your disheveled state. She picked some errant pebbles from your tangled hair and wiped it out of your face. “Now,” she started, “do you need anything else before I let you get cleaned up and off to bed?”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough already. Thank you, Miss Natasha, for letting me stay here. It means a lot. Truly.”

“Of course.” She smiled. You didn’t notice the blush that crept onto her face at the formality. She swiped away the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes again. “We wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you sleeping out in the rain.” She booped the tip of your nose. “Now promise you’ll wake me or Wanda up if you need anything at all. We’re just in the room across the hall. Can’t miss it, it’s the only door on that side.”

You nodded slowly. There was no way in hell you were going to wake her or Wanda, who you assumed was her wife, for any reason. But you nodded anyway.

She smiled and rubbed your chin. “Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and try to get some rest.”

As she set off to her room, you hoped the mud had covered how pink your cheeks had gotten. You headed to the shower, sliding open the glass door and turning on the water. You decided to hop in with your clothes at first, hoping to get enough of the mud off that you could wear them again tomorrow. Then you wrang the clothes out and threw them over the door to dry. You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water warm you up from the cold rain. By the time you were finally clean, you grabbed the fresh towel Natasha had left for you.

Your clothes were, obviously, still soaked save for your underwear. You were thankful for the little time it had taken the thin silky material to dry. You put them back on and wrapped yourself in a towel before entering into the bedroom.

There was a maroon hoodie at the end of the bed. It had been there since Natasha first showed you the room, so it clearly wasn’t laid out for you. However, in lieu of other clothes, you decided the owner probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for the night. You slipped the soft fabric over your head. It was much too big for you, going down to almost your mid thighs while the sleeves dangled over your hands. But it was, quite possibly, the softest material that you’d ever felt. It felt simultaneously brand new and freshly washed.

You crawled up into the queen sized bed, slipping under the covers. You held the fabric of the hoodie close to your face. It smelled nothing like the musky bergamot of Natasha, which had been equally as entrancing in its own way. This was distinctly different. It smelled soft and comforting like lying in a meadow on a spring day. The comforting smell and warmth, along with your own exhaustion, quickly had you asleep.

[midnight-mourning]

Roses are Red

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 2💘💘

I was feeling, something, when I wrote this, and by that i mean lots of flirting and such ajsldkfjklsjdf

Prompt: Gardeners Sun and Moon preparing a special bunch of roses for their dear Y/N and hiding an engagement ring in a single special rose. Y/N happily saying yes and giving the boys a smooch!

Word Count: 2403

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You stand by the kitchen door, hand on your hip and brow raised. 

"This again?" You ask the moon-themed bot in front of you, as he leans one elbow on the counter. Awkwardly, mind you, with his height. 

He shrugs, despite very clearly blocking the door to outside. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Sweet."

You cross your arms, nodding to behind him. "Okay, then may I get past you to go outside?"

"Why bother?" He tsks. "Dreadful weather today, wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No. I think it's a lovely morning actually, based on how sunny it is, and the nice breeze coming in through the window. I'd like to read my book on the swing." 

You'd gotten up extra early for exactly this reason. You were hoping if you woke up just a bit sooner, you could sneak out and enjoy the garden as you'd so been hoping to. It was a bit frustrating that you had to put it that way. 'Sneaking out' of your own home. But that's what it had come to at this point. 

Loved them as you did, but your gardeners had been exceedingly... difficult over the course of the last month or so. Despite the spring months finally being upon you, the prime time to truly enjoy the garden and appreciate their hard work, you'd been banned from the space entirely. 

Keep in mind, they were always bashful when it came to their work, and would sometimes not let you see their handiwork in the early days of spring since it wasn't 'complete' until all the flowers bloomed. This was different however, as you hadn't been barred from seeing the castle gardens just mere yards from your residence, nor the plants being tended to in the greenhouse.

No, it was specifically what they were working on in your garden—the walls far too high for you to peek over, unfortunately—where the source of your woes lied. Apparently. They were being incredibly secretive about the whole affair, going so far as to deny outright that you were banned from your own space.

Or in this case, making excuses. 

"Ah, but the weather could change at any time. Surely you'd rather not take the risk and spend your time doing something else?"

You lean back on the kitchen counter. "Like?"

"Reading your book inside, of course." Moon nods, straightening and walking over to you. "Even better, you can read it to me, out on the parlor couch, perhaps. I could hold you, or better yet, you could hold me. I've a terrible crink in my neck that only resting in your lap can resolve I fear. What do you say?"

You tilt your chin up as he now stands in front of you, towering over you even when he sets his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not so subtly blocking you in. 

You hum. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sun can handle himself for a bit, and really I think I've more than earned a morning's rest." He leans down so your faces are only a few inches apart. "You wouldn't deny your poor Beloved a break, Star. Right?"

You huff, though the temptation to take him up on his offer—and more—was at an all time high. "Beloved is a bit of a stretch at the moment."

"Is it now—" Just as the gap was about to close between you, Moon is gone. He makes a strangled noise of surprise as he's yanked back by a half-gloved yellow hand.

Sun releases him after a moment, cheery as can be. "More than earned a morning's rest, hm? Last I recall you didn't spend six hours potting pansies without a break, did you?"

Moon grumbles, but doesn't retaliate further than that. 

Before you can say anything, Sun turns to you, seeming to know what you were going to say. "The garden is off limits for the time being, Sunbeam. I might suggest the castle grounds for a good location instead. Once we've finished up here this morning I'd be happy to join you. I'll even bring lunch if you'd like." He finally finishes putting on his glove, adjusting his work apron. 

"And just where do I fit into that scenario?" His counterpart asks, searching around for his own outerwear.

Sun's grin widens further, eyes upturned crescents. "Why, you'll be busy trimming the hedges that you've been putting off all week, of course."

"That all sounds lovely, though I do feel bad for Moon." You step closer to the sunny animatronic, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "But I do have to press you on the reason for why I can't access part of my own home. Which you live in, mind you."

He sadly doesn't buy into your scheme, hand cupping your cheek as his rays click. "You'll find out soon enough. No need to go spoiling the surprise at this time. Go enjoy your morning, Love." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoff lightly, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

"Fine. But no more putting mud on the windows, while I'm gone. Makes me feel like I'm living in a cave." You hadn't expected them to go to such lengths, though knowing them you weren't surprised either. 

"No promises~"

Later on in the day you do in fact, enjoy a picnic with Sun, Moon nearby as he begrudgingly trims hedges. Though, another week goes by, and you still can't enter the garden. Not to mention, the flirty banter you typically so easily exchange has dropped to practically nothing. 

Your advances are avoided, to the point you can hardly even get a goodnight or good morning kiss. Which, given that you were used to being overwhelmed with affection, being underwhelmed is, incredibly deflating. So, you decide to change your tactic. 

You wait until one of them is alone, in this case Sun, to strike. While he may act very blunt and avoidant with Moon around, alone you think you can get him to slip up and finally tell you what they're up to. 

You find him on a quiet rainy afternoon hard at work in the greenhouse. The rain pitter-patters softly against the glass far above, the space cast in a bit of shadow from the grey sky and plants that are all encompassing throughout. 

He's at a workbench, tending to a group of sickly looking hydrangeas when you find him. He jumps a fraction when your arms wrap around him, head resting on his shoulder as you watch him work. 

"Oh, hello, Starlight. What brings you here in these conditions?" Despite the evenness of his tone you can hear a tinge of anxiety underneath. 

Your hands shift to slide across his arms, causing him to freeze at your touch. "Was curious about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, as you can see, I'm simply just—" He hesitates as you turn to kiss one of his rays. "B-busy. Would hate for these hydrangeas to wither away because of a lack of care."

You chuckle, kissing him again. "I suppose so. What a pity." Just as he turns to face you, you pull back from him, moving to sit on the workbench instead. 

"Something else you need, Sweetpea?" Sun chuckles nervously, you can see the smallest hint of steam arising from him.

You have to smother your smirk to keep your own composure. "Nope, just want to watch you work is all. Don't mind me."

"Ah, of course."

For several minutes there's nothing but muted clinking and such as Sun works, posture stiff as you keep your eyes—and hands—on him. Just simple little touches, traces patterns on his forearms or handing him things every so often. It only spurs you further as you notice your plan is working, the flustered avoidance you'd been experiencing is now just fluster, and you see your chance. 

"You know. There is something else I'm thinking you could help with." You reach out and cup his chin. "If you're willing, that is."

You see his rays flutter just a tad. "That so?" 

"Mhm. It'd be really easy for you to do too. And if you do, I might have something for you in return." You lean in, just hovering your lips above his smile. 

He chuckles, eyes-lidded. "A trade then? I'm certainly not opposed."

"I was hoping you wouldn't be. Now, close your eyes—hey!" You're suddenly plucked off the bench and hauled over a shoulder by blue and white hands. Quickly marched away from a startled and utterly confused Sun, as you see when you glance back. 

Moon sets you down by the door to the greenhouse, displeased grin on his features. "Dirty tricks like that belong in the garden, Moonflower."

"Well, I'm not allowed in the garden, so I had to resort to other locations." You huff, brushing off your clothes. "Was that really necessary?"

He bends to your level, eye to eye and inches apart. "It was."

"You're not on my kiss list now, I hope you know that." 

Moon's hands cup your cheeks, faceplate spinning once. "What a shame then, that you're on mine."

He kisses you once, then steps back. 

"Tomorrow, if the weather clears up, tomorrow you can go in the garden as you choose. I promise." His thumb rubs against your cheek, troubled look in his eyes before he shakes his head. 

You keep your frown, despite the heat on your face, and nod. "Tomorrow, then."

You stomp out of the greenhouse and into the rain in the hopes of making it clear your resolve is temporary. In reality you think it just makes you cold, and wet. 

But, the next morning the sun peeks through the clouds and after a brief and somewhat quiet breakfast, your gardeners finally relent. 

While you're beaming with excitement, they both seem nervous as can be. You're so caught up in all the activities you wish to do that you're only half catching the anxious looks and fidgeted movements they share between each other. 

Sun's hands are clasped in front of him as he speaks. "We're sorry it's taken so long, Love. We had several setbacks—" He sends a glare to Moon, who shrugs. "But, we hope you like it."

"And if you don't, just keep it to yourself." Moon's hand rests on your shoulder with a snicker, though there's still that nervous hint to his tone. 

You scoff at the two of them. "I always love what the two of you create. Regardless of whether it's for me or anyone else." 

With a final sigh, Sun steps out of your way and you all but skip over to and out the door, the warm morning light hitting your skin like an embrace. The garden sparkles from the dew and the day prior's rain. All across—

"Roses?" You ask, in awe at the sheer abundance of them. 

Several varieties and colors cover the expanse of the garden, from the edges to the center. Every flower bed is filled to the brim with them. Yes, there's the typical flowers and bushes they plant as well, sprinkled in here and there. Primarily, however, are the roses. 

You walk through the grass with a sense of curiosity at the scenery around you. It's breathtaking, but not the least bit suffocating. Brimming with life, but not crowded. It was, in a way, perfect. 

Though, you don't understand why they tried so hard to hide this from you. Yes, it was stunning, but the secrecy you just couldn't—

As you turn around again, you see the two of them standing there, together, with a large bouquet in their hands. It consists of bright yellow and deep purple—near black—roses. 

"These are for you, if you hadn't already guessed." Moon's gaze is elsewhere as he holds the flowers out with his counterpart. 

Sun's rays are spinning quickly as you flick your gaze to him, he coughs and also looks away. "We, we hope it's to your taste. We got what we thought would suit you best."

You're too stunned to really think on the words. "Oh, these are, incredible." You say, gently taking the neatly wrapped bouquet from them. "For me, really? You didn't need to—"

Inspecting the flowers closer, you realize that in the center of the cluster, there's something shimmering in the middle of a rose. This one is different from all the others. Its center is yellow, but the outer petals expand out into that deep violet, with speckles of contrast all throughout. Lying in the very center however, is a ring. 

It clicks then for you. 

"This needed to be special, to show how much you mean to us, hence all the preparation." Sun states. 

Moon continues. "An ordinary flower wouldn't do you justice, nor would an ordinary proposal. The garden served as the best place to refine both."

You nod slowly, feeling a little more than just choked up. 

"Is, are you, will you—" Sun stops himself. 

"Would you do these two humble fools the honor of having your hand?" Moon asks. 

"Yes, that."

You nod again, quicker now, face on fire and tears pricking your eyes. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Before either can react you shift the bouquet so you can grab them both by their shirts, planting a kiss to each of their smiles several times. 

Breathless, you pull back to hug them both. "I would have taken just a simple stroll by the lake, you didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me. But know I appreciate it more than anything. Thank you, I love you. So, so much."

Based on the clicks and whirls that emit from the two of them, and the bits of steam, you think they're as overwhelmed as you in that moment. Sun's lop-sided grin and Moon's half-lidded daze makes you chuckle. 

"Duly noted." Sun states. 

Moon nods. "Don't spend four years seeding, growing, and experimenting with roses next time. Understood."

"Four years?" Your brows shoot up. "But we met just roughly four years ago."

"We know. We started on this about a week in."

At this you shake your head, laughing outright. You give them another kiss, and revel in that moment. 

It's going to be one you cherish for years to come.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the lovely request @amarynthian-chronicles!! I love how you always write the boys with a sense of whismy and charisma so I tried to channel that for this hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful

[stylesluxx]

vocal cords – a. hotchner

[warnings: sad hotch but that's it]

summary: in which y/n encourages aaron to talk about his feelings – inspired by day one of febuwhump

word count: 866

main masterlist

You sang softly as you stirred the pasta on the stove. You weren't belting, just humming quietly, lost in the simple rhythm of it, too happy that Aaron was finally coming home after a week away on a case in Wyoming.

You didn't notice the grim look on his face—sunken eyes, hollow cheeks—until it was too late. You were too caught up in the thought of him walking through the door to realize that he had already walked in.

But when you saw him, you saw him. Everything else fell away. You dropped the spoon and rushed to where he stood in the doorway, his shoulders heavy with something unspoken.

"Aar..." you mumbled, cupping his face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You gently took his bag from his hand and guided him to the kitchen island. As he sat down, he pressed his head into his hands, and the tension in his posture was enough to make your heart ache.

"What's wrong? What happened?" you asked, more insistently this time.

He didn’t answer; just sat there, his hands hiding his face. You stood there for a moment, watching him, before gently running your fingers through his hair.

"You have a beautiful voice," he mumbled, deflecting, avoiding the question.

"You're too kind," you replied, the edge of sarcasm softening the concern in your voice. "Now tell me, are you okay?"

He sighs and is quiet for a moment. He picks his head out of his hands and looks over at me, letting me take in how disheveled he looked. "I'm fine," He nods and rests his hands on the island. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, giving him the look—the one that says you both know what's going on here. He knows, and you know. The crack in his voice betrays the mask he's desperately trying to hold up. The way he avoids eye contact with you and shakes his head so you can no longer get a clear look at him. You wouldn't say he was closed off. When he was happy or surprised or even nervous, he expressed himself with you. You were the first person he thought of when it came to expressing himself. "I can't wait to tell her about this." "I'm so nervous, I wonder if she'll be happy." But when it came to more negative emotions such as envy, anger, or sadness, he was quiet. He shut down completely but you were slowly breaking into his vault. You could always tell by his voice or the look in his eyes, which is exactly why he looked away from you. His eyes were his tell when it came to you. You always knew. "Why do you hide your sadness from me? You know and I know and I'll always find out." You sighed and rested your hands on top of his large, warm ones. "I don't want to spread it to you." You were quick the shake your head and shushed him, not wanting to hear that nonsense. "Oh stop it." He's slow to look up but when he does, you see it all. All the tension, anger, and sadness, warring in his eyes as he looks at you. None of these emotions are toward you but it's as if he can express them as he looks at you. "I'm just not used to it. I have to be a calm, levelheaded leader at work," He admits. You nodded and gently rubbed his hands. "But when you get home, you don't have to be that. So, why? Why hide yourself from me? You don't have to. You can use your vocal cords and talk to me." "Like I said, I'm not used to it." You nodded as you took a seat next to him. "You've met my dad. You see how I have to practically tie him down to get a hug. Or how I won't let him leave the house without him saying he loves me back. You see how... how he doesn't express himself well," You said softly. Aaron takes a minute, but he nods. He knows how closed off your family was to affection and sharing it. Your family loved you immensely but it wasn't in their nature to say it often and show expressions of it. "Yeah, how he pretends he doesn't like when you hug him..." Aaron chuckled, followed by you. "Yeah... Well, I was just like him. But then I went to therapy and realized how much I needed these things; I needed to hear my dad say that he loved me. I needed his hugs. I'm no profiler, Aar, but this is likely a result of your environment growing up. You're still strong even when you're sad. You're still a 'man' if you're giddy and happy. You're still a good leader if you break down sometimes. And if you can't do it at work, you can always do it with me. Do you understand?" His brown eyes shifted to look into yours and he nodded. "Thank you," He said quietly. His eyes were now relaxed and full of sadness and anger. "Always," You beamed at him and patted his hands. "How about I make you some tea while I finish cooking?" He nodded, causing you to back away from him, and walked to the cabinet and fixed him a cup of tea. He watched on, grateful for you and grateful for his voice.

[AN: day one done :) taglist and ko-fi]

[ariadne-mouse]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where…" I don't know if this counts because it's not a new fic, but:

"Was? Essek? I thought you were out of town?"

Caleb wakes up with obsidian flakes of a'a in his hair and and no memory of the last few years. His very-new boyfriend has adopted his cat, there's a court case for his attemped murder, and he might have been a ghost?

A followup to The Fire Kept Closest, from Caleb's POV, filling in the timejump to the epilogue.

Thank you for the ask! It took me a minute to get to this ask game, but here we are. I am not writing exactly to the prompt, but I hope you like this 830-word slice of post-fic Volcaleb nonetheless!

-

"I would like to go, I think."

Essek paused where he had just gathered a scoop of cat kibble. The awaiting dish lay on the floor, empty. "Are you sure?"

"Ja," Caleb answered. He folded the local newspaper he had been reading in half, the headline visible: Corporate Clash: Cerberus takes the stand. "I know it's best my situation stays out of the spotlight, at least for now, but I want him to see me. To see my face, and know that I know." His expression darkened. "I want him to sweat."

At Essek's feet, Frumpkin yowled his impatience, unaware of corporations, or bureaucracy, or indeed the significance of newspapers beyond the fact that they were sometimes fun to sit on.

"Calm down, calm down," Essek tutted, and gave the beast his meal. He smoothed a hand down Frumpkin's back, thinking. "I'll go with you, if you really want to go."

Caleb smiled grimly. "Danke. I would like that. But I have an idea, also - you can help."

-

Vence Nuthaleus cleaned up well in a suit, and he knew it. It was unfortunate that the volcano on Rumblecusp had popped its top as soon as it had, but he was still safely ensconced in respectability - and more importantly, plausible deniability. Research was only as good as records available, and his land use recommendation report had been scientifically sound with the data from the island's active seismometer network.

It didn't even alarm him that he was playing a kind of mutually assured destruction game with Cerberus. They wanted to publicly shed him as a "bad actor", especially convenient given his contractor status - but if they did, he'd reveal they had been the ones to disconnect the last seismometer. He had enough leverage in writing to make the accusation compelling, and they knew it. The thing they might most want to pin on him... well, they didn't have any evidence of that. All told, it was in Cerberus's best interest to protect him. And so he wore his most approachable suit, and a polite smile, and answered questions as earnestly as he could when he was on the stand. Mardoon Estate only wanted money, after all, and Cerberus certainly had plenty of that. Vence didn't need to be scapegoat for it all to work out eventually.

The courtroom around him was full for the spectacle. The door creaked open every so often as the gawkers and media came and went, like bees buzzing on a hive. He sometimes saw familiar faces from the island: Dr. Vilya, Beauregard, Thelyss. Today the last of these was sitting in one of the back rows by himself, glaring at Vence like he always did when he was there. Too bad; being a stuck-up trust fund baby wouldn't help Thelyss here.

It was some minutes before Vence's attention was drawn by a spot in the standing room in the back that had not moved at all for some time. Even as his mouth answered the current question on autopilot, his eyes were drawn to look at the vacuum of stillness.

A dead man was looking back at him.

Vence's words curdled in his throat, choking his breath.

He was there. Caleb Widogast was there, standing among the throng.

"Mr. Nuthaleus?" prompted the examiner.

"I... I..."

The ghost - it could only be a ghost - stared at him with those eerie blue eyes, unblinking. He was dressed like he had been, for a hike on the mountain. There was even a lightweight heatsuit half-zipped and tied around his waist.

He looked exactly like he had when he had died. When--

Vence couldn't pull his gaze away. "Could- could you repeat the question?"

The examiner repeated it, and again Vence did not hear.

Nearby, Thelyss was standing up. He favored Vence with a last look of contempt before making for the double doors. The crowd parted to let him pass, but Widogast did not move. And Thelyss... walked right past him, like he wasn't there.

A chill rolled down Vence's spine and his breathing came faster. He could hear a ringing noise, his vision was narrowing.

With effort, he turned a smile to the judge. "I'm sorry, I think I need a moment."

When he turned back, Caleb Widogast was gone.

-

Outside in the hallway, Essek leaned on the wall next to Caleb, who sat heavily on a bench. The heat suit was stuffed back into a bag.

"Feel any better?"

A muscle in Caleb's face twitched, and his hand balled in a fist. "A little. I don't know. Seeing him-" His breath left him in a gust. "It was harder than I expected."

Essek touched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "Come, then. Let's go. We can learn what happened later. Frumpkin is waiting for you at home."

This last tactic was always a surefire way to bring a little smile back to Caleb's face, and it proved to be so now.

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, straightening up.  “Let’s go home.”

[hrts4nagi]

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

-

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay hear all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

-

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

-

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

-

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

-

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

-

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (13)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 9.5k

—  Warnings: Sexual abuse, Humiliation, Physical abuse, Dissociation, Ptsd, Psychological horror, Briefly thought about self-harm, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Confessions

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(48 days before, Yoongi).  

You pace back and forth in the entryway. Thinking hard.

It’s nearing 6pm and Geumjae is going to be home soon. But Yoongi isn’t here yet. Hadn’t come over to see you at all today and that’s strange. He texted you last night after he walked you home and dropped you off and asked if he could come over tomorrow too.

You’d said yes, but tomorrow is today now and the afternoon slips and passes you by with not even a knock at your front door. The house is empty down to the dust bunnies. Yoongi is usually a man of his word. He’s usually a gentleman.

Gentleman do not leave young ladies waiting.

You’d double and triple cleansed, there isn’t even any mascara on your eyelashes, not dark staining below your eyes beyond the deeply carved bags that have permanently etched themselves on your face since you’ve gotten married. It would be suspicious if you wore any today when Geumjae had explicitly forbidden you from leaving the house, from breaking your routine, while he was a city away.

Your husband is usually very very particular about your routine. But there have been quite a few breaks in it over the last few weeks.

Geumjae smelled like another omega when he came home last night. A scent cloying and sweet, neither the sweetness of flowers nor baked goods just a mindless sweetness. Almost perfume. There was even lipstick on his collar, bright pink like bubblegum.

You hadn't felt anything at all when you noticed, no revulsion or shame or regret, nothing but a tiny bit of relief.

You're not supposed to be relieved that your husband is seeing another omega, you're not supposed to not care. You only care about Yoongi and your meeting tomorrow. He's always on the other end of your phone, waiting.

Geumjae hasn't checked your texts in a long, long time. You're careful to delete all the ones you have with Yoongi after you read them. Committing the words to memory.

Procuring time for your meeting today had taken a fair bit of effort last night, questions about where he'd been and who he'd been seeing a carefully curated ruse. You were the picture of a pouting omega, bratty, expectant. Wondering where your husband had gone and if he'll be here tomorrow.

You're a good actress. You know if you don't pretend Geumjae only makes it worse.

“I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you now. Is that it?” You’d said with a pout, after your careful questions for Geumjae had drawn his suspicious eyebrow. And then tried again, “you keep me locked up in this house without anyone, I hate being alone.”

And that enough had made him grin, Geumjae doesn’t miss an opportunity to deny you again, to torture you in some new way. Isolation is one of his old weapons. Geumjae is only too happy to tell you that he’ll be indisposed all day tomorrow, probably until late. You'll get no respite from your loneliness, no relief and no companionship.

Good.  

You texted Yoongi, told him, and he replied with a little :] Face. Not the emoji, the :]. You haven’t felt so young in years, you certainly have never kicked your feet over a text message. You’ve never felt your age, not since you first put on your wedding ring and said I do.

But Yoongi makes you feel that, almost young, almost anxiety-free. Almost a lot of things.

But now, Yoongi makes you worry.

Usually when you know your husband is going to get home you hide yourself away in some corner of the house. You linger on the couch or the kitchen if you’re feeling brave. Either to fulfill the fantasy of the doting omega wife or hide away if the abuse the day before had been particularly brutal.

You certainly do not wait in the foyer for your husband to return home.

You pace back and forth, eyes on the driveway, waiting for the crunch of pea gravel. The cleaning staff and the private chef were dismissed hours ago. Dinner is in the fridge covered with cellophane. Granted, you’d waited longer than usual to text Yoongi. Longer than you maybe should have.

You (1:12pm): If you’re not going to show up, can you at least give me a heads up.

You (2:30pm): The chocolate lava cake’s gone cold.

You (4:04pm): I'm gonna make you eat all my desserts, even the pies, to say you're sorry for flaking on me. You're a flake, like a pie crust.

You (4:44pm): Yoongi?

You (5:30pm): Are you okay?

All of which had done unanswered, the messages don't even have the little delivered sign next to the text. This is uncharacteristic for him. Abnormal. An outlier in your dataset. A lump of something in sifted flour. You’ve paced back and forth for the last hour before making the decision, opening up a familiar contact. One that you've dared not text. Not since before.

You (5:57pm): I think I might need your help again.

You hit send, and then at the same moment, a familiar dark green sportscar pulls into the driveway. It’s engine a low hum. Any normal person wouldn’t have been conditioned to hate that color or feel fear at the sound of a car, but you have been. The sight of it sets you on edge, makes your heart beat quick but this time you don’t rush to hide yourself away, to be quiet.

Your hair stands on end in the entryway. You begin to tremble viscerally when you hear Geumjae tread up the steps, hear the turn of the lock.

Geumjae is whistling when he comes in, a jaunty tune. He doesn’t immediately notice that you’re standing there. You shy away from his presence and keep your gaze on the ground. You're so good at being still, at sinking into the backdrop. It takes him a few moments to notice you're there.

He lifts his head, eyes wide for a second and then narrowing. You don’t break routine unless you want something and if you want something you usually have to barter. Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give. His glare falls into a scowl, and he places his gun down on the small table just inside the door after he takes out his wallet and keys.

He does not click on the safety.

He shoves past you, almost knocking you into the wall. Your shoulder throbs but you follow him. He turns hand raised. You flinch and close your eyes, but the slap never comes.

Geumjae strokes down your cheek, fingering the hollow of your cheekbone. You blink and bite back the impulse to gag. Keeping your lips pursed.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

A bit of saliva hits your face but you do your best not to tremble.  His voice is devoid of emotion or empathy or even rage. That much shouldn’t surprise you. You look into his eyes, the same eyes that Yoongi has only empty. Devoid of their warmth or half-humor. Blank and flat. It takes all of your energy to be brave. But it’s easy to be brave for Yoongi.

“I think somethings wrong with your brother.” Your voice comes out as hardly more than a whisper, but it’s steady. “I think something happened to him.”

~-~

Yoongi’s knuckles are bloody, that’s the first thing that he’s aware of when he comes to.

Blood feels different than water, slippery, and dries quicker on his fingertips as he starts to fight his restraints. His fingers grip the wood, the handrail of the chair he sits in. He startles, a sticky feeling and the taste of blood in his mouth and throat. At odds with the sandpapery feeling of his tongue and gums. The inside of his cheek feels tender. He tongues it where he’s bitten it.

The room is dark, but he’s not alone. Coming out of a chloroform daze is dizzying at best and nauseating at worst. One second the figure is across the room, the next he’s right next to Yoongi gripping his hair and pushing his slack head away violently. Yoongi does not feel it, Yoongi is having a hard time feeling anything in any clarity. He watches as the man in front of him traces his knuckles with a knife, there are small cuts up and down his fingers already, Yoongi can see the bone on one of his knuckles but the rest are thin, almost superficial. They will still scar.  

Yoongi cannot feel the pain, Yoongi can hardly feel anything over the cold.

Panic starts to bleed down his back, just as the realization that he’s immobile. Bound to this chair by a crisscross of dark ropes. The scratchy kind, not soft. He struggles. But they’re bound too tight. Yoongi doesn't have anything on him, not a gun nor a knife, not that he could even move an inch to use it.

“For a second I thought I used too much chloroform. It’s good that you’re awake, now I can make it slow.”

The man is nondescript. Yoongi does not recognize his stature or his voice. Nor the color of his eyes behind the ski mask. Brown, but not dark brown. This person is surely a stranger to him and yet he laughs as though he's just won the lottery practically shaking with anticipation as he drags the knife down Yoongi’s cheek.

“Interesting how this has all played out. You in the chair at the end of my knife for once.”

Yoongi hesitates, the fuzz behind his eyes more indicative of drugs or a hangover rather than a concussion. The man grabs his hair, making his neck arch so he can trace the knife over his jugular.

"You better have a good way to get out of this." Yoongi spits, at least his words don’t come out slurred.

"I don't need a way out." The man hums deep. “I’m not the one whose about to die.”

“You think people won’t know? Come on, I’m watched like a hawk. There’s not a person in this city that doesn’t know where I am and when I’m gone. They’ll know, they’ll find out.” Yoongi’s pulse beats so quick he can feel it against the ropes that bind his body.

“You’re not some god, you’re just cut from the same cloth as your shit brother, and you'll get no fair trial, just like he got, you didn't even wait, you didn't even- piece of shit-” His knife presses under Yoongi’s throat, hard enough that if he breathes, he’s dead. Yoongi’s pulse thunders treacherously loud. A beat of sweat or blood drips down his collarbones. “This is for-”

Yoongi looks up at the sealing. Closes his eyes and thinks of Seokjin. Of the pack. Of Jungkook's curly hair through his fingers, the sound of Jimin's laugh. Taehyung's deep hum at nighttime when Yoongi curls up with him not to sleep but to dream and read. He thinks of Hoseok in the front seat of Namjoon's car. He thinks of Namjoon, his hands. Bigger than Yoongi's. Yoongi’s knuckles go white as he grips the chair and imagines the kiss of the knife against his throat is Seokjin’s lips instead.

The next breath that comes out of his chest goes easy,

The world explodes.

The metal door at the front of the room cracks open with a boom so loud it rattles Yoongi's bones. The room fills with the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Flashes of light bloom in the darkness. Gunshots. Something hot rips by his ear, barely nicking him. The chair explodes, and Yoongi feels at least one shard of wood bury it’s self in his shoulder.

And then it's quiet beyond the ringing in his ears and the figure is no more, lying on the floor in a bloody heap. A bloody heap that people step over. Black figures that half blend into the darkness. Shouting his name, shouting something that Yoongi can’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

Something bright tickles his face, silver hair, a discarded ski mask on the floor. Silver hair covers his face- Moonbyul?

There is another figure, smaller than her, wearing a bulletproof vest that doesn't fit, too big. It makes it hard for you to move but you still duck underneath a tall alpha to cup his cheeks. For a second, Yoongi even thinks it’s real.

Yoongi sags against your body weight. Saying something he can't hear through the ringing. Mouth moving around the words. Your lip- your lip is bloody again and the side of your face-

Yoongi tucks his chin into your shoulder. You're shaking. Blood drips down his ear from where the bullet nicked him.

Face wounds always did bleed a lot

Moonbyul looms over you, pushing you aside gently to cut him loose. The second that his hands are slack he grips yours, both of them in his. His blood slides across your hands. He can’t even speak, can hardly see.

Everything goes from muffled to too loud. Yoongi feels nauseous and tries not to vomit on to you. “It’s okay, Yoongi, it’s okay you're going to be okay-"

Yoongi presses his face against the side of your neck, breathing deeply.

You smell like cake. The fresh kind, just out of the oven, Neither vanilla nor sugary nor milk sweet. Somewhere between sugar cones and fresh bread. You smell like warmth.

Yoongi noses into your scent gland and his eyes roll back.

~-~

Yoongi is on the bottom floor of your house, not in the sitting room where you usually take your coffee and cookies and pastries, but in the grand dining room with the glittering chandelier. It’s nearing 4am and he feels like he’s so tired he could scream.

There are more medical supplies on the table than can be found in the typical small city emergency room, and more opioids too as the family doctor checks him out after stitching up his ear and the cut on his knuckles. The rest are too shallow for anything more than band aids and cream.

But still. Yoongi’s hands are basically sort of wrecked. If it weren’t for the painkillers, he doubts he could move them at all without serious discomfort.

She shines a light in Yoongi's eyes. The family's on-call doctor is paid handsomely for her ability to keep quiet and produce a mostly sterilized mini operating room in any of their kitchens, backrooms, or dens. Yoongi’s seen her remove many bullets and knives in his lifetime. He’s even seen her re-inflate a collapsed lung in a parking garage. She's familiar. Her face pinched in concentration and concern.

There are some people like her that the family keeps on retainers, not a part of the family, not officially but inexorably tied to them. Like the hitmen and the crime scene cleaners that dispose of evidence. She technically doesn't belong to a single house. They're subcontractors in their world, underworld temps.

An emergency meeting of the heads of house has been called, and they gather, looming over Yoongi like a menacing set of helicopter parents or maybe vultures intent on picking him clean.

Geumjae is wearing gloves, black, leather maybe? Or are they plastic? he’s always particular about leaving fingerprints. Certain things have never been trained out of him- even if he’s no longer doing any dirty work.

Yoongi knows better. Geumjae crosses his arms, watching Yoongi.

He disappeared a moment ago, into the other room. It had taken everything Yoongi had in him not to go check on you. He had heard Geumjae's audible command. "Go change and clean yourself up, you're getting blood all over the sofa. And come back down, we're not finished yet."

Geumjae is angry, Yoongi can smell it in the air, probably because it's Moonbyul who was the savior and the hero of tonight. She's the one who actually tracked Yoongi down, who organized the hit on the unoccupied warehouse where he was stored. She gets many appreciative touches to her shoulders and a few approving nods. But her silver eyes remain fixed on Yoongi, not cold, but still calculating.  

You'd gone to her, must have. If you were there when he was found, no one mentions your name. No one congratulates you. It irks him. If he was more awake and less dulled from painkillers right now, he'd probably say something.

“I don’t understand how this happened or why. He’s a beta, he can’t be killed.”

Moonbyul's omega- Hyejin, the only omega in attendance turns back to them, whip-sharp. Correcting her. “Anyone can be killed.”

The head of house of the Miyazato family drops to his knees in front of Yoongi and takes his hands in theirs. It takes everything in his self-control not to rip his hands away, now bound with thin sutures. "I promise Sajangnim, we'll find out who did this and dispatch them swiftly."

The others clamor to offer similar supplications. "I'm prepared to offer 20 men to rotate outside the cottage so that you'll never be alone Beta-shii."

"The 59th precinct is at your disposal, give the order and we'll comb the streets."

"Why would you comb the streets Meimei? The man who did this is already dead."

"But maybe they had an accomplice!"

Yoongi can't tell if it's all the talking that's giving him the headache, if it's the chloroform, or because he hasn't drunk any water in almost 24 hours. Hyejin cracks a bottle of water and hands it over when he asks.

"What kind of family are we if we can't protect our own?" The doctor stops her fussing, and Yoongi holds his head in his hands.

"We all need to be more careful."

"Enough."

Although his words are quiet, the world falls silent. Someone offers their hand to help Yoongi stand but he doesn't need it. Pushing himself to his feet using the edge of the dining room table. "All of this can wait for the morning," Yoongi says thank you and goodbyes, mostly to Moonbyul. Thanking her with a hand on her shoulder. She grips his arm back, leaning low to whisper in his ear.

“You know I’m not the one who deserves your thank you.”

Yoongi swallows and nods. Most of the family files out, sending fearful or jealous glances in Moonbyul’s direction. No doubt her actions tonight have moved her up on the hierarchy. Slipping on their shoes in the entranceway, Double-checking with the men stationed outside the front door.

But Yoongi doesn't pay attention to them. Yoongi walks to the sitting room.

You are sitting there on the same fine furniture where You and Yoongi usually take your tea and cakes. Two men are guarding either window in tactical gear, with all manner of weapons on their waists and holding AK-47s and handguns tucked into holsters at their waists. The dress you wear is dainty and delicate. A white night dress. Yoongi notices one of them looking at you, promptly trailing their gazes away when Yoongi comes into the room.

You turn to look at him and Yoongi almost chokes on his next breath.

The left side of your face is black and blue, and your cheekbone is split. Lip split too, mottled all the way down to your collarbones. So black and blue that he doubts makeup could cover it up. Yoongi can tell by the way that you hold yourself that your body is hurting, that Geumjae has hurt you. All likely, because of him. Because you'd tried and succeeded in saving him.

Yoongi takes one step into the room.

“Shame on you both for not inviting me to the tea party” Geumjae snickers from behind him, to the side, standing out of view. Yoongi’s fists tighten, and the bandages on his hands pull taught. Irritating his cut knuckles. "Can I come to the next one?" He taunts.

At the sound of Geumjae’s voice you turn away from Yoongi and stare straight ahead.   

~-~

(35 days before, Yoongi)

As the weeks drag on Yoongi’s attention gets spread thinner and thinner, the deadline for selecting Don draws nearer and nearer, and Yoongi watches you disappear through his fingers, like smoke or steam.

The softness you’ve shown him and your easy meetings become a memory. No longer. Because you had to tell Geumjae about them to convince him that Yoongi was missing, to save him- you had to let your husband know.  Your simple routine of cooking together and coffee in teacups gets farther and farther away. Becomes little more than a memory.

A good memory. Your last good memory maybe, because Yoongi is leaving soon.

You become more and more silent as the weeks go on. When he sees you at family dinners, you’re vacant. Nothing behind your eyes that looks like life. Your eyes slide over Yoongi like he’s not there. Like he doesn’t exist to you.

During the weekly family dinners, you look more and more worn. Thankful that no one asks you to speak. Hardly even bothering to pick at your food and make it look like you’re eating. Even across the table, Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away from you. He has to keep it in his seat- to not make an issue out of it under the hawk-like eyes of the heads of the family. There's little that he can do beyond jab at Geumjae and watch you fade.

You don’t look at him, even when he speaks to you. You respond when he asks you a direct question. But you keep your responses brief. Your voice cracking like you haven’t used it in days.

He walks by the house near constantly, whenever he’s not called upon, waiting for an opening. An opportunity. Hoping that this time when he walks by there won't be any cleaning cars parked on the sidewalk or one of Geumjae's fancy cars parked in the driveway. It feels like he's some stray, pacing back and forth and scratching at your door.

At family dinner times, if he extends his legs as far as he can go without slouching in his chair. He can get his ankle side by side with yours. Your skin feels cold most of the time. Most of the time you're shivering. Geumjae has...changed your uniform.

Before you saved Yoongi's life, the things your husband made you wear were fancy and demure, more in line with what the other omega’s in the family wear. Now they're scandalous and out of place. Plunging necklines and short hems. Geumjae forces you to wear increasingly more unseemly things regardless of the cold and the season. He can tell you’re uncomfortable with what you’re wearing by the way that you fidget constantly pulling down the hem and up the neckline.

But Yoongi guesses that it’s just another way for him to control you. To humiliate you. To parade you around.

Geumjae invites Yoongi over for tea, and Yoongi can't stay away. He has to see you.

When he enters the house is cold and quiet. There are none of your usual staff around, no cleaning ladies or private chefs. Just more armed guards standing tall and muscled, willowy and quick. All alpha’s. There is one by the door wearing a suit to let Yoongi inside, but the rest are in tactical gear. Geumjae isn’t the only head of house whose called on a more permanent detail in the wake of Yoongi’s abduction.

Everyone is on edge, if Yoongi could be abducted so easily then they’re all fair game. Regardless of the moratorium on murder during the 120-day period.

When Geumjae invites him in you’re just sitting there in the Livingroom. You don’t meet Yoongi’s gaze when he says your name. There is no recognition in your face at all. You are a doll perfectly trained. Sitting pretty and slutty in the clothes that your husband has picked out for you.

You are sitting on the couch with your legs Infront of you. The thong you wear does little to provide any bit of modesty. Most of you is hidden by your legs, pressed together so hard bone meets bone. In any other scenario Yoongi would look away, would give you your privacy, he can see the darkness of your nipple through the translucent lace of your bralette. Too small, much too small. It makes anger boil behind his eyes, makes his hands shake.

There are six armed guards in this room. All alpha’s. One by the exit to the sitting room, one by the entrance to the dining room, one by each window, and one more by the stairs. They’re all from the Min family. Distant relatives and distant cousins. Yoongi even recognizes one of the alpha women for her short brown hair alone. All of them armed to the teeth just like the night he was brought home. They watch you out of the corner of their eyes, Hands on their guns.

You do not raise your eyes to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

Geumjae grins, staring at Yoongi, watching the horror on his face with something like excitement as Yoongi takes in your predicament. “I’ll get your coffee; she told me that’s what you liked. She’d have made honey cakes for you, but she’s been rather busy.”

Geumjae’s eyes rove your body, raking it, tearing it up just by looking. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, consume you and make you nothing but shit after digesting. You shouldn’t feel so hurt by it, but every second his eyes are on you, every inch he sees hurts. A knife poking you from the inside out would hurt less. A bullet would be gentler.

You want to cut out every inch he looks at, what to peel away your skin like a butterfly shedding its chrysalis or a worm hatching wriggly. You wish you could take what he sees, what he likes, and shove it down his throat and make him choke on his own satisfaction.

He likes looking at you, and you hate it. Your vision goes shaky, and your breath starts to feel bigger than your lungs, an earthquake from the inside out, a catastrophe that only you can feel.

You’re trembling faintly. Yoongi’s not sure that if it’s from fear or the cold. Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but beyond that he gives no outward reaction. Of course, Geumjae had interrogated you about your weekly (sometimes daily) meetings. Of course, he throws the evidence of all he knows back in Yoongi’s face now.

Geumjae goes to get the teapot, and the second he’s out of sight Yoongi pulls off his sweatshirt and puts it over your head, guiding your arms through it. You need a little help. One of your hands is so swollen that you can’t open your fingers. Yoongi wonders if Geumjae stepped on it or if you held it up Infront of your face when he was hitting you. Both options make him feel sick with anger. Breath hitching when your fingers skim his for a second. Squeezing his wrist hard.  Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. And he knows he has seconds.

“There you go, there you go. you’re so cold,” but you don’t respond. “it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” He says, barely daring to whisper the words. The men around the room stare straight ahead blankly.

You don't respond. Staring blankly off into space. Yoongi's hands shake with rage, wishing there was more he could do. But all too soon Geumjae’s tapping of his leather shoes returns to the doorway. Holding a fresh pot and a pretty gilded teacup, smiling when Yoongi looks back up at him, crouched Infront of you, standing to his feet at his presence. Barely resisting the urge to put his body in-between yours and his.

“See Yoongi? I told you she only needed a firm hand- she’s as good as tamed now.”

Your tea party does not go as it normally does. Not this time. Yoongi does has a job in the family- and that job is primarily to offer advice. Geumjae actually does need his help with something and Yoongi is bound to offer it. He makes his words clipped and his sentences shitty. Geumjae gets increasingly more annoyed the more predictable Yoongi’s responses become. But Yoongi would rather bite off his own fingers than help.

They talk through the business of the mole, if anyone’s found who orchestrated Yoongi’s abduction yet. Which house- if any house, was the man connected too.  

You don’t even lift your teacup to your mouth. Yoongi tries not to watch you more than Geumjae, tries but it’s hard.

Eventually Geumjae does not feel like playing along with him. Gets tired.

“Eat.” He commands, and you lift a biscuit to your mouth. “chew” he commands. And you chew. Yoongi’s cup clatters into its saucer. “Actually, I changed my mind, spit it out. Can’t have you gaining too much weight.”

Geumjae holds out his hand, and you spit it out into his hand. Geumjae wipes the chewed food on your face. It’s not a lot. You’d hardly taken a bite. But Yoongi does not manage to stay in his seat. Geumjae mirrors him, pressed almost chest to chest with Geumjae in seconds.

“You can’t be fucking serious- you-” rage feels like muteness, Yoongi is going to hit Geumjae, is going to lose his temper if he’s not careful. Yoongi shoves him, and Geumjae laughs.

You pull on Yoongi’s pant leg, just once. And he makes the mistake of looking down.

“I think my brother is tired,” Geumjae says, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in Yoongi’s collar. There is still chewed food on his fingers.  “We can continue talking tomorrow when you’re not so worked up.”

Geumjae looks down at you. “Princess, give him back his sweatshirt, we can’t have him walking home in the cold without anything can we.”

The sweatshirt pools around your waist and goes almost to your knees when you stand up. Yoongi is already fairly average for a man, Yoongi has always liked his clothes big and baggy, and his sweatshirt looks massive on you. The soft swells you had when he first met you are gone now.

You stand up wordlessly, you reach for your hem right there regardless of the guards (and Yoongi’s) eyes on you. You lift them hem over your head. Pealing the sweatshirt off of your nearly naked body without a thought.

You are tiny. Smaller now than when he met you. He can see every one of your ribs when you lift your arms over your head to take off the red sweatshirt.  

Yoongi wonders what else he's made you do Infront of them. Geumjae smirks, looking satisfied.

That’s what does Yoongi in.

"Turn around." He snaps, and every one of the guards follows suit. Even you listen, staring to turn before Yoongi sets a hand on your bare shoulder. Tilting your face up to his. Making you look at him.

His sweatshirt falls to the floor.

The men in their uniforms and guns turn. You raise your eyebrows, like you're confused, like you think it's you being ordered. But Yoongi just cups your cheek.

You almost flinch at the gentle touch, so unused to it. To being touched with anything like this. To being touched without it being painful.

Yoongi can see the blood draining from Geumjae’s face. Can see the guards straighten up, their hands readying on their guns, Nervous.

"Go upstairs and put some close on." You are only too happy to follow Yoongi's orders, to slink past the man at the stairs, teetering on unsteady footsteps as you ascend the staircase up to the second floor.

Only once you’re out of sight does Yoongi address the alpha’s in the room. Each of them standing up a little straighter. As if they finally remember who Yoongi is. They should remember.

He should remind them.

“Turn back around.” They turn. “Take a step back.” They step back. Yoongi watches a drop of sweat blead down Geumjae’s temple. He grins, showing his teeth.

“Hand me your gun.” The guard closes to him takes a handgun out of its holster and hands it to Yoongi. Geumjae’s grin falters just a little.  Yoongi flicks off the safety, appraises the gun quickly before he takes the clip out. Popping the bullets out onto the floor one by one, they fall to the floor with a clink. heartbeat by heartbeat. More than one alpha flinches as the last one falls.  

Yoongi liberates the stock from the barrel lets the gun fall to pieces around him.

“Another.” The next man hands him the gun and Yoongi does not disassemble it, just takes it and flicks off the safety.

“Actually, I changed my mind, look at him. All of you. Look at my brother. Don’t you dare fucking blink.”

Geumjae does not show any outward signs of fear as Yoongi holds the gun by his side. he doesn’t look anything other than cool and calm. Yoongi lets the silence stew for a moment. Just a moment.

"If he does that to her again, you are to call me. Any alpha that does will be compensated accordingly." Geumjae's sneer worsens. But he doesn't interfere. They stand like that. Separate from each other by a few feet. Yoongi’s hand sweaty on the gun.

"If it wasn't for what would happen to her, I'd put a bullet in your head."

"If it wasn't for your sub gender, I'd put one in yours."

Yoongi and Geumjae glare at each other from across the room for a second. Then Yoongi puts on his sweatshirt. He lifts the gun, “I’m keeping this.” And tucks it into the pocket.

He leaves.

He tucks his nose into the collar and puts up the hood against the oncoming rain. Pausing on the street corner. It smells like you. The sweatshirt.

When Yoongi looks back at the house, there is a figure upstairs silhouetted in the window. He nods at you, and you nod back.

~-~

(22 days before, Yoongi)

Yoongi wears your sweatshirt until your scent fades from the fabric. But even after it feels like the smell of rain follows him always. It’s a rainy winter. Not cold enough to snow but cold enough to freeze.

His long walks cover him in it, at the constant complaints of his detail. He can only dismiss the young alphas that the family appoints to guard him so many times. Guarding the beta against another assassination attempt is a privilege they say, an honor. But Yoongi just needs some peace and quiet. Just needs some space and time to think through his plan, more and more flimsy feeling as the days stretch on.

Things get worse and they don’t really get better.  

Geumjae takes Yoongi’s continual presence as a personal threat. He can’t take it out on the beta, so he takes it out on you instead. In the field, Geumjae is the perfect leader, cool and calm and collected. Sure, he shoots first and asks questions never but there are worse heads of house. People who are less competent. Geumjae is capable of showing restraint.

Just not with you.

At home Geumjae lets his worst impulses run wild. Before Geumjae knew about the tea parties (Yoongi has yet to find a word he likes better) he never invited Yoongi to your personal family meals. But now he gets invited to every single one.

He sees you in all manner of get-ups, scantily clad and see-through dresses, skirts that barely cover everything but never anything as bare as the very first time. He sees you wear lipstick smudged. Mascara runny. Bruises boldly on display.

Yoongi promises himself quietly, that if he ever gets you out of here, you’ll never get hurt like this again.

Yoongi tries to intervene, tries to, but it never goes well for you, so he stops himself. Geumjae likes to make Yoongi watch.

Yoongi’s is there when he backhands you after you drop a plate. Yoongi doesn’t keep himself in his seat- can’t stop himself from standing and grabbing his brother's arm before he deals another blow. And maybe it only makes it worse for you because you’re twice as bruised the next time he sees you, but Yoongi’s hands shake with the way you’d looked at him from the floor- holding your cheek defiant and alive. Like you still have a fight left in you.

It’s a look he tries to remember as time goes on and your fighting spirit fades.

You don’t deserve any of this from Geumjae, not the backhanded compliments that have you pushing the food around your plate. The ones that have you not eating at all, not even the sweets that you make, piles and piles of them.

Geumjae makes you bake a chocolate cake, bringing it out to Yoongi on uneven footsteps, the heels you wear towering. It's a pretty cake, topped with cherries and chocolate ganache. It smells like Yoongi smells when he's happy. Only once you've put it on the table does Geumjae push your face down into it.

When Geumjae leaves the room. Yoongi uses a rag to clean your face.

Yoongi’s surprised he didn’t realize it sooner; that you hardly eat at family dinners. Maybe it would be easier to stomach if you weren’t so small. Terribly thin. "She's gained weight since our honeymoon." Geumjae justifies when Yoongi asks. "She's a good wife brother, she knows to do anything she has to do to keep me in her corner."

He thinks back to the moon family dinner and how you’d almost collapsed because of your tight corset. He wonders if that was because of hunger or truly because you couldn’t breathe.

He doubts he’ll ever know the answer.

~-~

Yoongi stops coming over. Stops coming on Mondays and Wednesdays, and you stop texting him.

Well, not entirely.

You develop your own code. You send Yoongi a blank message, a simple text without any words in it, and he’s on his way. And anyone who saw it, Geumjae or otherwise could just assume that it was a typo, a but dial. An accident.

Even if it's anything but.

All he has to do is see your contact light up his phone before he's up and out of whatever place he currently haunts, the docks, an apartment for a meeting, an underground storehouse for stolen goods. You text and Yoongi always comes.

If you don’t send him anything. He knows better than to try.

~-~

(10 days before, Yoongi).

The day comes again when Yoongi gets a text and comes to your house and finds the windows dark, finds the house empty. You are sitting on the couch again. Blankly staring off into space. You don’t react when Yoongi calls your name.

You’re done up but not even the thickest full-coverage makeup could hide the bruises. Yoongi wonders why you try. He gets down on his knees Infront of you and takes your hands in his.

He got an empty text a few minutes ago, he might have stayed nearby at a coffee shop down the block. He’s taken to waiting there when he doesn’t have someone calling upon him. One family or another that wants his ear- or more likely another chance to convince him. The days are counting down, pretty soon anyone but him will be fair game.

Yoongi knows the heads of house are not above murdering each other to become Don. Once the moratorium on murder is over, Yoongi fears it will be all out war.

In truth, Yoongi has no idea who he’s going to choose, no idea at all if he’ll choose Geumjae or Moonbyul or any other family members. Yoongi’s hasn’t thought about it much- but he probably will have to over the next few days.

At least before the Gala.

For now, Yoongi kneels down Infront of you with a creek of his knees, pulling your hands into his. There is no one here. No one here at all besides you and him. “I’m going to take you away okay? Just for today. I’m getting you out of this goddamn house.” You do not respond. Staring blankly ahead. You are already dressed, in comfortable clothes. Yoongi helps you into some snow boots. Yoongi ties the scarf around your neck.

You don’t go far because he’s not sure you could manage it. You still don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. He takes you to a diner down the block. The food is cheap and greasy and filling. The booth in the back of the shop is secluded and there aren't even any cameras.

You eat half your plate, and Yoongi counts it as a win.

You sit on the same side of the booth, and after you're done you lean your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are still staring blankly ahead, and your voice is so soft barely a whisper.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”

Yoongi tries not to pay attention to the warmth of your body, failing not to luxuriate in it, to savor it, to imprint the feeling of your body resting gently against his. Happy to be a refuge, happy to be a safe harbor however temporarily. He carefully threads his fingers still crisscrossed pink with scars through yours, finally healed enough that you can move your fingers.

The top of your head will smell like him by the time you pull away. He hopes he smells like you too. You’ve never scent-marked him, you’ve never nested or shown even the slightest omegan instinct Infront of him. Yoongi has never put thought to it before. But now he wonders if you’ve just never felt safe enough for any of that to come out. He's still never smelled what your scent is like when you're happy. Maybe there was that one moment when you rescued him- but he's half convinced that was a dream anyway.

“Finally feel like talking Ey?” You exhale against him, your body limp. You don’t pull away from him, you don’t even look up at him. Yoongi wishes you'd fight him, that you'd banter back. But it scares him, it scares him that you don't even have that in you anymore.  

“At the beginning, Geumjae forbade me from talking to anyone that wasn’t him. I was so scared back then." Yoongi can almost taste the memory of that fear on your scent, he breathes in, imprinting the scent of you to memory. Even if it's your sad scent, even if he hates what it represents.

"I didn’t know how to act like you guys do, how to be taken seriously, how to say this the right way, how to dress like that-"

"I don’t act in any-"

"Yes. You do. You’re different but you can’t help it." Yoongi goes quiet, let's you speak. The tone of your voice firm. "I couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway. But it was still so isolating.”

You watch the people bustle back and forth out the distant windows, the people bundled up against the cold and snow. Underneath the table, you clutch at Yoongi’s hand. Your grip isn’t harsh, But Yoongi knows it’s the strongest you can make it.

“I didn’t speak to another soul for weeks, months, not even to him. It made him so angry when I wouldn’t even react, but I’d go to this little place inside my head, far away from Geumjae, far away from anything he could do to hurt me. A place where he can’t touch me. I still go there sometimes. I’m sorry."

Yoongi’s heart is in his throat. “It’s alright.” He says after a moment, unsure what to say to that and unsure how to provide a comfort that you’ll accept, that will do more good than harm.

“I tried to do everything, I tried to be perfect, I tried to be what they wanted and look at where it’s gotten me.” your eyes flicker up to his, “look where it’s gotten both of us.”

You’re silent for a long time after that, but Yoongi doesn’t prod you for more, on the contrary. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want too, I don’t mind.” You tap your fingers against his knuckles, gently exploring the scarf tied to his wrist, now worn and frayed at the edges because Yoongi hasn’t taken it off in weeks.

You don’t say another thing for the rest of the night. Not when he leans in, resting his cheek across the top of your head. Clouds blanket the city, but even above the cloud cover, there’s not a star in the sky.

~-~

(7 days before, Yoongi)

The promise of home looms, uncertain. Yoongi has not tried to reach out to the pack since before his phone was broken and has not contacted them at all in 113 days. He wonders if they’re going crazy still or if they’re mad enough that they don’t give a shit about him anymore.

By this time next week, Yoongi will have made his choice. By this time next week Yoongi could be on his way to them.

Freedom is a dirty word, tastes like rain on his tongue. What is to become of you then?

Maybe it’s better this way, maybe it’s better if they never know. And Yoongi can live with a mostly clear conscience because at least for a brief while, he'd had gotten to fall in love and have it reciprocated. Not just once but 6 times. Yoongi knows he's gotten more love than most. In the end, he's done everything he could to protect them.

Yoongi closes his eyes looking up at the ceiling in the cottage, intent on daydreaming until he falls asleep. It’s late now, nearing 1am. He really should get some sleep. The gala and the naming of Don is barely 7 days away, 6 if Yoongi counts the days by the date and not by the number of sleeps. The minutes tick down, as important as a heartbeat. The red alarm clock in the corner blinks, and his suitcase remains in the corner, still open. Yoongi has never really unpacked. Never intending on staying for long.

Yoongi has just closed his eyes when a short knock comes at the front door.

(Like I said, Yoongi's conscience is mostly clear, mostly, but not all the way.)

Yoongi blinks awake at the sound of it, quick short efficient wraps against the wood. He runs a hand through his hair annoyance flaring because he’s tired. Wrapped in a robe stolen from the hotel as he opens the front door, the knocking never pausing.

“What the fuck do you- shit-”

You tumble into his arms, clearly having used the front door to prop yourself up. Your front is covered with so much blood that at first it’s hard to tell where you’re bleeding. Panic and fear build and fight to a crescendo as Yoongi drags you inside and kicks the door shut before anyone can see.

Yoongi knows what a lot of blood looks like.

For a horrifying moment, Yoongi thinks that Geumjae has tried to slit your throat.

But then your head moves, lolling to the side in his arms, and he registers that it’s uneven, down your chin to your jaw, not across like a smile. He doesn’t know how you got past the people stationed at the front of his driveway. He wonders how you managed to get them to let you through. Especially looking like this.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Maybe you just asked nicely. You're kind of a hard person to say no to.

“Don’t apologize, here sit-” you’re holding a blood-soaked cloth under your jaw, Yoongi has to gently cajole you into taking it away. The fibers stick to the gash. The blood barely clotted because whatever cut you was surgically sharp. It’s deep, deep enough that it splits, and Yoongi can see the place where your skin becomes flesh. It's just at the spot where your throat meets your jaw, on the underside of your chin. Yoongi’s not sure if you need stitches. Probably.

 His eyes flicker from it to your eyes.

“He-” You swallow, and wince, and the gash moves. Yoongi has never seen you cry before, has never seen your eyes fill with tears but they do now, wet. Gathering.  “He threw a glass at me.”

Your clothes are soaked with blood. Soaked. Boiling in rage. Yoongi holds your jaw and seals up your gash with a little bit of glue suture that sings so bad that you do cry. And Yoongi can do little more but tell you he’s sorry again and again until he’s done. Forehead pressed to yours letting out these little shushing noises as he tosses the packet and the bloody gauze to the side and holds you.

At least it stops bleeding.

Yoongi wishes he could call Namjoon; Namjoon would know if you needed stitches or medical attention. Namjoon would know what to do- would know what to say and how to get you out of here. He’d soothe your pain and your aches better than Yoongi ever could.

And Seokjin and Jimin would know how to comfort you when you shake so bad that Yoongi can barely do more than dab at it with a cloth. Try to make sure it’s clean of all the glass shards. Taehyung and Hoseok would know how to make you smile after this and Jungkook- Jungkook would hold around your waist, would wrap you up in him to protect you. Using his body as a shield.

They don’t even know you yet and this, Yoongi is sure of. Yoongi is useless at this without them. Yoongi is useless. All these weeks you've been hurting. And he hasn't really been able to protect you at all. Has only been able to minimize the damage and fix you just enough that you’re not dead.

But how many more close calls can you have? How many more days of abuse can you endure?

They’d love you, he’s sure of it.

Exhausted and shaky he stops your bleeding. Yoongi gets you a fresh change of clothes. His sweatshirt is still so large on you that it dusts your knees. It makes you smell like him and if the situation were any less dire it would make Yoongi purr.

While he picks the last of the glass fragments out of your hair, he voices what he’s wanted to say for months. He’s tired of dancing around it.

You watch him wary.

“You know- I could get you out of here if you wanted. If you asked me to do it, I’d make it happen.”

You recoil like Yoongi’s the one to throw a glass in your face. Pulling back from his touch, a shard of glass, pearly, a bit rainbow where it's shattered in concentric circles. Plops onto the small round table.

You're almost breathless with how shocked you are. “I can’t. I can’t leave Yoongi. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you and I can’t be the reason why you don’t go home, I’ll-” You’re speaking so quick he can’t interrupt, can't tell you to damn the consequences. It’s like all your words have been kept back by a floodgate, rippling out now. Your voice shaky with fear. “He’ll get better once you name him Don, right? Then he just won’t be so angry all the time- right? He'll have everything he wants and that will satisfy him. And he’ll be out of the house so much it will hardly feel like we’re even married.”

Yoongi knows that this is just what you've been telling yourself over the last few weeks. That you'll say and think anything to convince yourself that things will one day get better. Anything to give you just a little bit of hope. You are a creature of survival, and survival subsists on hope.

You look like you’re begging Yoongi to reassure you. When you both know that nothing is going to change, some people are just rotten to the core. And Yoongi can’t be forceful with you when you look like you might run out of here just as quickly as you came. Yoongi wonders how long it will take Geumjae to find you and how badly he’ll hurt you this time.

You both know there will only be more of this- more of you trapped. More pain and more terror. Unless you trust Yoongi.

If you trust Yoongi.

Yoongi speaks- trying to figure out what will keep you here the longest, trying as long as he can keep you out of harm’s way. “You don’t deserve this sweetheart; you don't deserve everything he's done to you. You deserve to be loved.” Yoongi's voice cracks, and he sees from the way you recoil- he must have touched on something sensitive. A soft spot or an open wound that Geumjae has made in you.

How many times has he screamed at you that you’re no better than a worm beneath his boot? That you are nothing? Every bit of love you've ever gotten was something you either had to earn or pay for. You won’t show Yoongi it, but there’s a scar on your lower back. A word that Geumjae put there when you had yet to learn your lesson. Each letter hurt when he carved them into your body. Forever. You know they scared bad. He cut deeper than the one on your jaw.

Worthless.

It's written on you in scar tissue. Written on your soul too. There is no hiding it. The sooner Yoongi learns the better.

“Who’s going to love me, Yoongi? Not when I’m like this,” you gesture to yourself, failing to meet his eyes. Holding yourself like it’s the only thing that can give you comfort. And all Yoongi can think is that there is nothing about you that deserves the utter disgust in your voice. He knows, distantly he can hear Seokjin telling him. This is just the low self-esteem talking. Another side effect of the abuse. Damage that goes deeper than any physical bandage or medicine can heal.

The only thing that could help is time and love, and you only have one of those things.

In 6 days Yoongi will be free, but you? You won’t be free from this until Geumjae puts a bullet in your head or someone puts one in his.

His whispered confession is true as he holds the cold cloth back to the cut on your jaw. Beading with blood from the amount that you’ve talked. He hopes his words will soothe that spot too. Any and all damage his brother has done, Yoongi wants to heal.

“I could love you,” he says it so casually like it's nothing. But it's anything but nothing to you.

You shoot up, standing so quick that the blood rushes to your head and you teeter. You can’t see Yoongi’s concern through the tears clouding your vision. You narrowly avoid his outstretched arms, instead gripping the table to keep yourself from falling over. Shaking your head vehemently. Your shin knocks against the coffee table hard as you back away from him. His hands go out to grab you, but he thinks better of it.

“You can’t Yoongi- he’ll kill you. I won’t be the reason why you die- I won’t.” You promise vehemently. “You need to get back to your pack, you need to make it up to them. They need you.”

He takes one step forward. “But you need me too.” You do, that you can’t argue with no matter how much you want to. “Don’t tell me it’s too late to save you when we both know it’s not.”

“It’s not, but I wish I was beyond saving so that you wouldn’t try.”

“You think I have a choice? That I meant to-" love you, he breaks off, half shouting at you now. "Before I met you, I was going to come to this fucking city, name someone Don, and fuck the family for good. I was going to disappear. But now I can't.”

Yoongi realizes his mistake the second you flinch. Sometimes words can hurt too. Can hurt worse than physical damage. When your voice goes soft rather than forceful Yoongi knows he's fucked up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a burden. Let me make the choice easier for you.” You don’t grab your jacket, you fold the cloth, put it on the kitchen counter, and walk out the door.

By the time Yoongi runs after you, you’ve already disappeared down the garden path and into the maze of neon lights. Sinking into the crowds of drunk college kids and businessmen hoping to nurse their hurts in a bottle of liquor. You disappear like a shadow or a wraith. Like you’re already a Spector, already dead.

That night Yoongi dreams of you again. It’s the same dream that he had months ago where he was lying on the fur with the skylight and snow up above. The fur beneath him feels silky and cool, and he lies there just watching you.

The dream is the same. Only this time you're the one with the gun.

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Ahhh I really like the line ‘Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give.’ I think it sums up his character and the type of abuse he puts her through really well.

- Incase it’s not clear- Geumjae did not believe the m/c and punished her when she tried to get him to go to Yoongi. But because she texted Moonbyul (or Hyejin really, it’s up to you to decide who she texted) they were able to rush in and save him. I have to admit even I’m not sure if she’s actually there when Yoongi is rescued, I think it might just have been him hallucinating because of dehydration. I also think Geumjae could have punished her, left the house in a rage/annoyance, and Moonbyul showed up soon after to go rescue Yoongi. I don’t think it really matters what order of events occurred only that it’s Moonbyul and the m/c that saved Yoongi.

- Sajangnim means boss in Korean! Just for clarification

- I think the moment that the m/c looks away from Yoongi is the moment that Yoongi realizes that he’s falling in love with her and that if he leaves her to Geumjae he’ll never forgive himself.

- (Trigger warning: sexual abuse, rape, non-consensual sex acts), I think that Geumjae made the m/c suck him off and raped her infont of the guards at least once, he probably also invited any of them who wanted her to have her and then cut off the dick of the alpha who stepped up to rape her. He also probably made her do lewd things for their entertainment. I think at least one of the guards did report what happened back to Moonbyul, but she didn’t do anything about it or make any move to save the m/c. If anything she probably just took notes to use it against her in the future, to know how to threaten and subtly trigger the m/c to be more subservient. Moonbyul is more of a fan of psychological abuse than physical.

- I feel as though, maybe Yoongi’s words of ‘it’s alright’ are patronizing? But I don’t know what the m/c could hear in this situation that would be comforting. Idk, maybe I’ll think on it some more and change the dialogue here eventually.

- I don’t know if any of you have ever had your skin glued shut but let me tell you it is so fucking painful! It’s literally like! So much more painful than stitches or worse. Maybe because the stuff my abuser used on me was definitely not body safe and I’m pretty sure it was like- hobby glue or the kind they use in tactical but! It’s the worst!! Truly would rather be stabbed again than have to go through it.

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[caesariawritesstuff]

Hello there! 👋I had this idea in my head for a while. The detective decides it's better to leave Gotham and Edward manages to convince her to stay by admitting his feelings for her. If you have the inspiration to write something like this I would be more than happy to read it😍🥺🥺

Your works are all amazing and I can't wait to read more❤️❤️

Don't Leave Me

Summary: You try to leave Gotham, but Edward stops you just in time.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warning: Spoilers for the end of Arc I of Cat & Mouse.

A/N: My dear @vas17sblog, I have to sincerely apologize for the fact that this ask has been sitting in my inbox since July. 💀 I am literally the worst. I'd always intended to answer this since I felt it fit better after the events of Arc I, but damn, I'm so sorry this took me months to get to. Please forgive me!!!

I also had a request to use the prompt "Don't leave me. Not like this" from an anon, which I combined into this request!

It was snowing.

Soft flurries came down from the sky, threatening to coat Gotham in a blanket of white. One bag was clutched tight to your side, the strap digging into your shoulder. The bus stop around you was quiet, not a soul in sight, as cars drove past on the icy roads. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the ticket for Metropolis, gazing at it for a long moment, before stuffing it back into your pocket, the paper rough against your fingertips.

The movers were already at your apartment. You’d let them in, instructed them to pack everything into boxes, and that was that. You couldn’t bear to do it yourself. You didn’t want to see all of your things, belongings you love, stuffed away into boxes and hauled into the back of a truck. You’d already rented a place in Metropolis. Hadn’t even cared to look at anything more than a few photos online. Hadn’t cared that the rent was high. The truth was that you just wanted out of this fucking city, and you were willing to pay a high price to get out. Everywhere you looked, your memories were plagued with all that happened with Beau and the rest of the GCPD. His words remained a constant echo in your mind, gnawing at your soul, ripping it to shreds. Ripping it right from your marrow and stabbing into your very flesh. When you closed your eyes, you saw his smug face. In the dead of night, you heard his voice. Saw Archer’s dead eyes staring back at you. The brand on your skin was still healing, and you itched at the skin around it almost absent-mindedly, like a new bad habit. A habit you couldn’t shake.

This decision hadn’t come lightly. You’d spent hours thinking about what you could do, how you could just get out of Gotham and leave everything behind. The truth was that you needed a fresh start. You need something else – something but the pain and agony rippling through you. Something more than the suffering, more than the pain. You didn’t know what you were going to do, or what Metropolis had in store, but getting out of here…it was the only thing you knew what to do right now. The only thing you wanted.

Edward didn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d written him a letter and dropped it off at the GCPD, and asked for the receptionist to deliver it to him. By the time he read and came looking for you, you would be long gone. And he couldn’t follow you out of the city, not without risking his parole. He would be made. He would be furious…but he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t he? He knew what you’d been through, seen it with his own two eyes. He had to understand…but he didn’t have a choice. You’d made your choice.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away, squeezing your eyes shut as you shivered against the cold. Where was the damn bus? It should’ve been here by now. Should’ve—

“Detective.”

His voice.

Your eyes snapped open and you turned around in time to find Edward standing there, his eyes wide, his cheeks and nose tinged pink from the chill. Soft flurries of white fell into his hair and onto his shoulders.

“Edward…” you whispered, panic rippling through you. How did he find you?

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice rough, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t you read my note?”

“Of course I did. Every damn word. Twice.” His lips curled back in a scowl. You recognized this look – just how mad he was.

You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat, as you glanced both ways down the quiet, still streets. Headlights from passing cars flashed in your eyes.

“It’s not coming,” he said. “I hacked into the bust depot station ad changed the route.”

“What?” you asked, turning back to him. “Why would you do that?”

“And why would you do this?” he demanded, yanking the note out of his pocket, shaking it in his white-knuckled grip. He took a step closer, redness crawling up his throat. “Why would you – I thought – I…” His words trailed off.

“It’s easier this way, Edward,” you said, your voice holding no warmth to it.

He scoffed. “Easier? For who? For you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running, my dear.”

“I’m trying to get away from all of this. From Gotham. Don’t you get that?”

“Are you trying to get away from Gotham? Or from me?” he asked, raising his brows.

His words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, blinking, your lips twisting into a scowl that matched his own…but maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. Some truth to the reality in which you were trying so hard to avoid.

“I…” the words lodged in your throat.

He took a step closer. “Don’t leave me. Not like this.”

The pain in his voice was raw and real. It was full of everything that made your heart shatter into a million pieces, breaking apart and shattering your very soul. Tears welled behind your eyes as your mouth fell agape, all words dying on your tongue.

“Edward…” you murmured. “I can’t stay here. I can’t—”

“Please,” he whispered, his hands shooting out to capture your face in his hands, his skin warm against your cheeks. Tears spilled from your eyes, and he wiped them away.

“Please don’t run away,” he said. “Not from me. Not from this damn city. Please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tilting your head slightly into his hand. You’d been so firm in your decision, so adamant about it, so desperate to get out of here and keep everything a secret from Edward – because you still couldn’t look at him. This was the first time you’d seen him in person in weeks, and this was exactly why you’d never wanted to see him in the first place – because seeing him reignited all those feelings inside of you, that aching warmth in your heart.

And now you were questioning everything all over again.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” he pleaded. “You’re strong. You’re not a coward.”

“But I’m so scared,” you whispered. You were terrified of what the future held, of what was going to happen next. It clawed up your throat and made itself known, shedding your skin and burrowing its way inside.

“I know,” he said. “But don’t let your fears control you. Don’t let it consume you.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” you asked, opening your eyes again to find him staring down at you, towering over you, his body heat enveloping you.

“No,” he said. “Not as long as I have you.”

You scoffed under your breath. “I have to go, Edward.”

“No,” he said, firmer this time. “I refuse to let you run.”

You looked away, back at the quiet streets. A thousand questions raced through your mind, but you weren’t sure what to ask of him or how to make sense of this. How were you supposed to move on? To go on after everything that happened? To walk these streets and pretend that nothing happened to you?

You met his gaze, hardened, his jaw set tight. His hands still cupped your face, wiping away the tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. But the longer you stared at him, the more the heartache in your chest only grew. God – this is exactly why you’d never wanted to see him: because standing here with him reignited all of your feelings and reminded you just how much you wanted to stay with him, to stay in the city you called home.

“After everything we’ve been through…why would you do this to me?” he asked.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said. “I just—”

“Don’t you get it, detective? How much I care about you? How much I need you in my life?” he asked. “And if you leave, I’ll…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t get the words out.

You looked away again, words dying on your tongue. His words were a knife in your stomach, twisting and twisting, pulling your soul from your body and stomping on it.

“Detective,” he said again, pulling your eyes to him again. “If you get on that bus, you’re not just leaving Gotham. You’re leaving me. And I cannot sit here and watch you disappear from my life. I won’t let it happen.”

“Edward…”

“I won’t let you run from this. From me. From us,” he said.

Your jaw fell open slightly, your vision blurring from the tears. “But I’m so fucking scared, Edward,” you whispered.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your face, as if he feared you would slip away the second he let go. His blue eyes burned holes into your own. The soft flurries increased a little, melting on yours and his warm skin.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I know, because I am, too. Every single day, I wake up terrified that I’ll lose you. That you’ll decide I’m not worthy of you anymore, that one day, you’ll come to your sense and realize I’ve just been a waste of your time. That one day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re better off without me. And now…now you’re proving that fear right.”

Your throat tightened. “Edward…”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes burning with anger. “You need to listen to me. You need to get it through that thick skull of yours, through that tiny mind I love so much, that if you walk away, if you get on that bus, I swear, I’ll never be the same again.”

“Edward—”

“Listen, detective,” he said again, firmer this time. “Gotham has been nothing but a warzone for me. A place I wanted to prove myself better than the rest of the idiots he walk these streets. A place where I’ve had to run and fight and manipulate to survive. I fought for control, to conquer, to ruin. And then you…” He shook his head, scoffing. “And then you had the audacity to walk into my life. “To make me feel something for you that I’ve never felt for someone else. To make me feel things I didn’t even think I was capable of feeling. And I don’t give one damn about the rest of the city, or the GCPD, or anyone else. You are the only thing I care about.”

His voice dropped into a low whisper. “Detective, I…”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the tears continuing to fall, trembling in his arms now as he pulled you closer, his breath a soft mist against your own skin.

“I don’t know what will become of me if you leave,” he continued after a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll just go on with my sorry, miserable life. You are the only thing that makes my life bearable. The only thing that keeps my reform something I want to work for – to be better for you. If I have to beg, I will. If I have to kneel in this damn snow and swear my life to you, I’ll do it. But please, for the love of God, do not get on that bus. Stay with me. Please.”

The weight of his words crashed over you like a tidal wave. His hands trembled, his breathing grew uneven, as if every part of him clung to you. Like the moment he let go, he would shatter completely, the pieces of him broken all across the snow. His gaze was unwavering, determined, filled with that look you loved so much, his blue eyes only drawing you further and further in. Your chest tightened painfully, like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist. Your own breath hitched in your throat, more tears streaming down your cheeks, which he only wiped away without hesitation.

In the quiet, you heard the deep rumbling of a bus down the road. You finally tore your eyes from his and looked away just in time to see the bus come to a rolling stop by the sign. The doors opened, lights bright and flashing, headlights illuminating the flurries in the snow.

“Please,” Edward whispered again. “Stay. Stay with me.”

His words crackled something to life inside of you, breaking through the walls you’d formed around your fragile heart. He was laying everything out, every vulnerable piece of himself, begging you not to leave…and God, how could you walk away from this? From him?

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stay here,” you whispered.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said without hesitation.

“You’re impossible, Edward Nigma,” you whispered. “You’re so selfish.”

“Selfish for you,” he replied, his lips curving into that smug smile you loved so much.

You shook your head, but pain rippled through you – but a sob tore from your throat, and before you could think, you threw your arms around him, burying yourself in his warmth. He clutched to you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you, his breath in your hair, at your cheek, as he trembled against you.

“Please don’t leave,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “I don’t give a damn about this city. But you…you are the only thing that has ever felt real.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, holding onto him like he was a life vest. The bust doors closed as it pulled away, continuing on its route. The ticket in your pocket was meaningless now. Because, deep down, you knew the truth: he had become everything to you. And even though you could leave Gotham, you could never leave him.

And maybe that was enough.

[kingkatsuki]

— my protector

Tengen needs your help in trying to locate his wives on a mission, and Sanemi is furious.

Get me a man who’s only soft for us, stat😫😭

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, reader is a fellow hashira, jealous Sanemi (for literally no reason), possessiveness, rough sex, slight degradation, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 4.2k.

All Sanemi could see was red, fiery red as he roamed the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, ignoring the pain in his right arm from the wound Aoi had just patched up moments earlier.

“Shinobu will kill you if she finds you drawing your sword in here!” Aoi called after him, but Sanemi could care less as his eyes sought out the Sound Pillar.

He had just returned from a three-week-long mission to find out that Uzui had enlisted you for help on one of his missions. Practically offering you up as bait to try and find his wives who had gone missing, like that was even your problem. And Sanemi knew you were always so eager and willing to help, it was something he loved and loathed about you at the same time.

The rage continued building inside him as he pulled open another sliding door aggressively, the wood gliding back from the force as he skimmed another empty room before continuing further through the mansion.

“Listen to me, Shinazugawa.” Aoi huffed, followed after him as one of the only people inside the mansion who weren’t scared of the white-haired man, “I told you Shinobu won’t be pleased to find out you’re breaking all her doors.”

“Fuck her,” Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Where’s Uzui?”

“If you would’ve actually stopped for five minutes to let me explain, instead of being such a jerk,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “He left with her a few hours ago. Said it couldn’t wait much longer, that his wives may be in danger—”

“How the fuck is that her problem?” Sanemi growled, “So he isn't here?”

“No, but I would advise you don't follow him. Your wounds—” Sanemi ignored Aoi, already halfway down the hall as he marched towards the entrance, determined to find you on his own. It was when he stepped into the courtyard that he saw Uzui coming in by the front gate with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, my crow told me you were back!” Uzui made to step towards him to finish the conversation, but Sanemi’s sword was already drawn as he stepped towards the larger man, “Perfect timing, my friend!”

“You fucking left her there?” Sanemi barked, “Why are you back here?”

“I came to get you at the request of your lady love,” Uzui grinned as Sanemi curled his lip in irritation at the pet name, “She made me promise to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission because she wouldn’t be around. And I thought you'd prefer a personal greeting.”

“Why the fuck are you sending her on your missions anyway,” Sanemi continued, ignoring Uzui's grin, “And leaving her there!”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” Uzui shrugged, standing in place even as Sanemi stepped towards him.

“That’s already twelve hours too damn long, you prick.” Sanemi drew his sword as he made to lunge towards his fellow hashira.

“She’s probably safer there than she’d ever be out in the field,” Uzui dodged a blow with the hilt of his sword, the guard barely protecting his hands as he used his body weight to push the Wind Pillar back.

“Probably?” Sanemi roared, “She’s probably got sick fucks like you all over her right now.”

“Oh,” Uzui’s lips curled into a cocky smirk at the admission, standing upright as he pushed some fallen hair away from his eyes, “So that’s it— you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous, you fuckwad.” Sanemi grunted as he attempted another slash towards Uzui, knowing it was serious when the wind user hadn’t even bothered to use his power.

“Sure seems like it,” Uzui scoffed, taking another step back to avoid his attack, “Nothing is stopping you from visiting her, you know. She’s only a few towns across and I'm here to take you right to her.”

“Oh, you’re taking me to her,” Sanemi spat, “Right fucking now.”

“Someone is asking for me?” You raised a brow suspiciously at the implication. Wondering if this meant the demons had realised that you were in fact a slayer intent on taking their head. Your stomach swirled in trepidation as you tried not to show any fear, smiling at the young girl by the door as you bowed your head.

“Yeah, and frankly I’m glad,” She clung to the belt of her kimono, “He looks scary!”

“I definitely don’t want to spend the night with him,” Another girl grimaced, “I don’t think I’d make it out alive.”

You frowned, worried that you wouldn’t have time to access your katana to holster it beneath your kimono. Instead, all you had was the small dagger strapped against your thigh, which you were certain wouldn’t be enough to protect you from the attack of a demon. But at least it was better than nothing, knowing he wouldn’t attack until you were at least secure back inside this room as you bowed your head. Following her down the stairs to the entrance of the establishment, feeling a cool breeze tickle your ankles from the open door and curtain flowing in the wind.

Your heart stilled when you noticed the familiar man standing by the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look his way as you felt your chest swell with familiarity. You hadn’t expected to see him here this night, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be asking after you.

“Is this the girl you were asking after, my Lord?”

“Yes,” He grunted as the Madame motioned him to step forward and follow you back to your room.

You had to stop yourself jumping him in the foyer, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders.

Feeling the heat practically radiating from his body as you slid open the sliding door to your room, stepping to the side to allow Sanemi to follow before sliding it shut. And in an instant, his rough hands were grabbing hold of the fat at your hips to pull your body against his, your lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

Your hands reached up to thread through his messy hair as the scent of the woods mixed with his natural sweat invaded your senses. He clearly hadn’t bothered to bathe when he returned from his mission, far more concerned with finding you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spoke against your lips when you finally pulled away for air, still holding onto you as your nails dragged against his scalp, “I had to come home to find out you’re helping Uzui?”

“Tengen needed my help,” You murmured, and Sanemi’s nose scrunched in irritation at the use of the Sound Pillars' first name.

“Tengen,” He mocked the pitch of your voice, “Has three fucking wives that can help him, I only have one.”

“Technically,” You parroted his tone, giving him a cocky smirk as you felt his fingers press into the skin at your hips, “I’m not even your wife.”

“You’re as good as,” Sanemi scoffed as he stole another kiss, “And Uzui would do well to remember it.”

“His wives are missing,” You mumbled sadly.

“So does that mean he’s looking for a fourth?” Sanemi frowned at you as you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at his jealousy.

“No,” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “He hasn’t heard from them for a few days, the letters have stopped coming— and he thinks something bad may have happened to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sanemi couldn’t lie that it had hurt to find out from someone else that you wouldn’t be there upon his return, whether it was jealousy or the fear of losing you he was unsure. But either way, it left him with that familiar sense of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach and threatened to boil over.

“I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much time,” You did wish you’d sent your crow to warn him, but Uzui had promised you that he would let Sanemi know. Especially since you were doing this for the sake of his wives, “He needed my help, so I offered.”

“You’re far too nice.” Sanemi shook his head, using his grip on your hips to pull you into another sultry kiss.

“I thought that’s why you loved me.” You teased.

“No,” Sanemi scoffed, “I love you for your perfect ass,” He spanked your cheek for emphasis, “Everything else is either a bonus or a crux on my life.”

“You pig.” You scrunched your nose as Sanemi couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Sanemi’s eyes softened as he reached up to cup your face in a calloused palm. His thumb stroking gentle circles against your cheek as you leaned into his touch, “But you really should stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I’m a hashira,” You replied simply, “It’s what we do to protect others.”

“Protecting others doesn’t mean becoming a whore.” He spat, although you knew there was no malice there. The harsh tone covered up the fear and dread he felt in your gut at the prospect of something happening to you.

“And yet here you are, at the whorehouse requesting me by name.” You smiled back, relishing in the pink hue that dusted his pale cheeks.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” His tone sobered, resting his forehead against your own as he stared down into your eyes, “What a pitiful existence it would be.”

“You won’t lose me, Sanemi.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull his body against you, feeling his semi-hard cock press against your hip. The time without you made even more conspicuous when he's now surrounded by the comforting scent of you again.

“Did anyone touch you?” He immediately pulled back, concern evident in his features as he looked you over.

“No, I’ve been fine,” You shook your head, “They’ve mainly had me sitting down for tea with travellers passing through.”

“Good,” He pressed a kiss against your forehead in relief as he exhaled softly, “You have no idea how much I missed you, sweet girl.”

He peppered kisses along the curve of your jaw as you tilted your head back to give him more room. Your hands smoothed along his collarbones before dipping lower to trace patterns against the marred skin that scarred his chest, pressing your fingers into the ridges as you felt the tacky sweat clinging to his skin.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered gently as his teeth found your pulse point, biting down on the sensitive skin as his tongue lashed against it.

Sanemi bullied his muscular thigh between your parted legs to keep you steady against the wall as he shamelessly fiddled with the belt of your kimono. Letting the fabric fall open as he drank in the sight of your bare skin beneath, his firm hands immediately paw at your bare sides. Noticing the small dagger that you had holstered against one of your thighs as he ran his fingers over the handle of it in satisfaction.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, “Not planning to use that on me are you?”

He teased, pushing it back into the holster as he moved his hands back up the curve of your hips towards your chest. Truth be told, he was relieved that you had some form of protection in here. Especially when there was the chance that a demon was responsible for the spate of missing persons in the area.

“It depends if you’re nice to me or not,” You mused.

“I’m always nice.” The words coming from Sanemi’s lips alone were enough to have a melodic laugh rumbling in your chest, as for most, Sanemi and nice were complete contradictions.

“Liar,” Throwing your head back in a pretty laugh that had Sanemi’s heart rattling against his rib cage.

“I mean, I’m always nice to you, aren’t I?” Sanemi’s thumbs stroked the underside of your breasts as he delighted in the way your body responded to him, curving your back towards him as your bare cunt pressed against the flat of his thigh.

“We shouldn’t,” You murmured, “Not here—”

“Let me have this, sweetheart,” He hummed, leaning down to capture one of your pebbled nipples between his lips as he sucked hard, “I am a paying customer, after all.”

In fact, he was going to get that money from Uzui for his pure subordination.

“Why pay for something you can get for free at home?” You teased as he afforded your other breast the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as you let out another airy moan.

“My girl wasn’t there when I arrived home, and I had heard the girls here were beautiful,” He played along, “Apparently there’s one with the best fuckin’ pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” You gasped as you felt his fingers press against the indents of your thighs, dangerously close to your labia as you bucked against his leg. Giving your clit some slight relief as Sanemi continued forward, his thumb brushing through the wet slick that coated your folds as it drooled out of your neglected hole.

“Yeah,” He repeated, pulling away from your breast with a pop as he found your clit. Pressing sloppy circles against it with the calloused pad of his thumb as he watched you shamelessly grind yourself into his touch, “Apparently she’s already fucked into the shape of another guy though.”

“Must be a lucky guy,” Your eyes rolled back, knocking your head against the wall when you felt two of his thick digits slip inside your tight hole with ease. Scissoring them to loosen you up as he pulled back to watch you inquisitively through half-lidded eyes.

“The fuckin’ luckiest.” Sanemi grinned as he felt your walls throb around his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars as he began to focus each roll of his wrist against it.

His name continued to spill from your lips as he kept his movements poised and focused, his rough thumb kneading circles against your clit as he worked you towards your release. No one knew your body better than he did, and he knew after being pent up for so long how little effort it would take to have you dangling on the edge of your release.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” You moaned, already feeling yourself dangerously close to falling, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.” He spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his blase tone immediately had your cunt clenching around him as you swan dived directly into your bliss. The pleasure surged through your body hard and fast as you came undone, his darkened eyes focused on your movements a he kept his fingers pressed against that same velvety spot. Following the wave of your hips as you rode out your release, unrelenting against the sensitive area as he already had you hurtling towards a second.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. Your pliant walls throbbed around his slick digits as you wished for something more, something bigger.

“‘Nemi, fuck me please.” You whined pitifully.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” He teased, but he pulled his fingers away from your sopping heat, lifting them up to the light to spread them as you noticed the silvery webs of your release clinging to them as he pushed them between your lips to taste yourself.

You tried to speak, but the pads of his fingers against your tongue muffled the words as you cleaned them off. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled them out of your mouth, dragging your glossy bottom lip down in the process as both hands immediately reached for his belt.

“When we get home I am fucking you like you deserve.” Sanemi spoke coolly, “Not some quick fuck in a whorehouse.”

“I deserve everything you give me, 'Nemi.” You smile up at him lazily before watching him tug his pants down, revealing his fat cock to your prying gaze.

You immediately reached for it, and he let you. Hissing when your smaller palm wrapped around the girth of him, giving him a teasing jerk that had his nostrils flaring and his jaw locking. Your thumb swipes over the swollen tip to gather the pearl of pre before smoothing it down his length, delighting in the choked grunt that rumbled at the back of his throat.

“Is that so?” He continued, “So bending you over the moment I get you home will be deserved,” His voice darkened, his own palm joining yours against his length as he tightened your grip on his cock, holding your hand steady as he fucked himself into your fist, “You tease.”

“Fuck,” Your cunt throbbed around nothing at his suggestion, as you instinctively spread your legs further apart, “Please, 'Nemi.”

Sanemi curled a palm beneath your thigh to hoist it up against his hip, spreading you open for him as you guided the leaky tip of his cock between you. Stroking it against your drenched folds as you coated him with your essence, moaning when the swollen tip nudged your puffy clit. Feeling yourself growing more impatient as Sanemi pulled his hips back to tease you, pushing your hand away from his cock as he wrapped himself in a fist. Pressing the head against your tight entrance as he felt your hole tremble against him, trying desperately to coax him in as he indulged himself with your reaction.

“‘Nemi, don’t be an asshole,” You pouted as you tried to can’t your hips forward, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he was quick to move his hips back. More than content with teasing you, despite being in such an open, compromising place.

“If I were an asshole I’d leave you unsatisfied like this to search for the demon myself,” He goaded, pressing his hips forward once more.

“Sanemi,” You whined in irritation, “Don’t tease me, please, it’s been too long.”

He didn’t give you a moment to think before he was bullying his cock inside your tight cunt. Your inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth as he moulded you to the shape of him once more, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The sensation stole the air from your lungs as you could do little but cling to his broad shoulders as he afforded you a moment to adjust to his size, dragging himself from your velvety walls before canting his hips forward again. Setting a languid motion as he slowly rolled his hips against you.

“Sanemi,” You sighed in satisfaction as you felt whole once more. Too many lonely nights were spent dreaming of this as you felt him finally bottom out, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your clit as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“We’re in a whorehouse,” He mused, still sluggishly rolling his hips into you, “It only seems right that I treat you like one.”

Your cunt clenched around his cock hard at the notion, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sanemi who grinned in satisfaction. His fingers tighten their grip around your thigh as he takes this as his answer.

Sanemi is brutal as he fucks into you, not sparing you a moment's peace as he uses you for his own gratification. The sound of skin against skin echos the small room as his balls slap against the curve of your ass with each forward cant of his hips. The ferocity of his thrusts has your breasts bouncing and your thighs crying out for some relief as you struggle to stand upright, thankful that Sanemi’s strong body has you pinned against the wall as he fucks into you.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, nails digging into his skin as he maintains his pace. His other hand squeezes at the fat of your ass as he angles his hips, the curve of his cock drags against the spot inside you that he knows will have you seeing stars as the blunt tip kneads your cervix.

“Look at me.” Sanemi growls, his warm breath fanning your face as he keeps a consistent pace.

Your eyes meet his and you’re certain you’ll cum under the intensity of his gaze alone, your cunt clenches in retaliation as he continues to thrust into your sopping hole. Each sultry moan he pulls from deep in your chest has him rolling his hips with more vigour, eager to have you repeat them as he works you towards your climax.

It’s pitiful really, how easily he has you submitting to him as you already feel the telltale signs of your climax ebbing in your pelvis. The pressure builds up as it nears breaking point as Sanemi pushes into you with more ferocity, using your body for his own means as he works himself to his own release.

“I’m going to leave you pumped full of my seed,” He growls against your cheek, his chest heaving as he feels his balls begin to tighten, “Leave it drooling down your thighs when I’m finished with you. So that everyone knows who you belong to—”

You knew this was a direct attack on Uzui, and the fact that he’d handpicked you for his assistance on this mission. Even though there was nothing in it beyond securing the safety of his wives, it had Sanemi oozing with jealousy and he was intent on reminding the Sound Pillar that you were not his plaything.

“Do you also need a reminder of who you belong to, sweetheart?” Sanemi spoke lowly as he fucked into your pliant walls, slipping a hand between your connected bodies to press sloppy circles to your clit.

“No, ‘Nemi—” That familiar sensation throbbed between your thighs as you teetered on the cusp of your climax.

“No? Then who do you belong to?”

“You, ‘Nemi. You—” You choked out, leaving messy red lines against his chest now as he pressed harder against your clit.

“Louder.”

“You, ‘Nemi! It’s always been you!” You cry out, certain that the rest of the floor could hear you as you began to gush around his cock. Your hips bucked wildly as he pinned you in place, keeping his thumb firm against your clit as he watched you ride out your climax. Indulging in the debauched noises that escaped from between your pretty, bruised lips.

“Good girl,” He snarled before moving his hand from your clit to resume a damn near savage pace. Rutting hips against your own messily, working himself towards his own end as he felt the way your walls continued clenching around him in the aftershocks of your climax, “Such a good girl for me.”

He arched his back so he could look down at where your bodies were connected, watching the way his thick cock disappeared inside your velvety walls. And the creamy ring of slick that you’d left around the base of him, the silvery lines matting into his pubes as he felt his balls begin to seize. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last much longer before giving a few more sloppy thrusts and emptying his balls into your warm, wet cunt.

Sanemi stayed buried inside you, feeling the last spurts of his orgasm surge through him as he coated your walls in thick, white spunk. Cherishing the final few flutters of your walls around him as you both came down from your highs, peppering kisses against your face as you placed a palm against his chest to feel his racing heart, the dull thump of it soothing you as you felt your thick lashes begin to flutter.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart.” Sanemi rasped, starting to pull himself out of your spent cunt as you whined in objection. Trying to tighten your thigh around him to keep his hips in position as he grinned down at you; pressing an apologetic kiss to the side of your lips before looking down to see the mess of your combined release stringing against his length as the silvery lines split apart, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta.”

You knew he had to go, Uzui was probably still waiting for him on a rooftop somewhere. Hopeful that you’d have some news to share with Sanemi about the whereabouts of his wives, but you felt the regret begin to pool in the pit of your stomach as reality settled back in.

“If you want to leave with me, I’ll take you right now,” He said as though it was the most simple thing in the world, “But if you want to stay in I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t have to tell him your answer, he already knew. Placing a final, lingering kiss on your lips as he held you in his arms, “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m around.”