#he's standing there while they're down to him

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[hai7ani]

Haitani Rindou is known to not be a very serious person.

There is nothing serious about him at all. He liaises with a bored look on his face, doesn't really attend executive meetings unless Mikey is there, and spends the rest of his days at his own club drowning in the girls, the music or the alcohol, and maybe letting off some steam by snatching away Sanzu's job.

But he is serious today. Angry, even.

The air is tense and it reeks of expensive European cologne when he steps one foot into the room. Briefcases filled with illegal substances welcomes his sight on the coffee table and tall stacks of cold, hard cash residing on his desk.

A man sits with one dirty shoe on his favourite British-imported sofa smoking a cigar, and Kokonoi Hajime on the opposite couch calm and collected.

There is also a girl crawling on all fours with a hot pink leash on her neck, tighter than a dog's collar.

Her skin glimmers under the dim lighting 一 with hints of blood that he could still recognise across her arms, but mostly with sweat. Her lips are pale, wobbly, and tears are pouring out of her sockets. Hurt and fear evident in her eyes.

She is you.

The dress that he got you 一 handpicked for you delicately 一 all ripped and torn and it barely clings onto your body anymore like it did all the time. You look like you're about to pass out anytime soon.

Haitani Rindou is filled with rage.

"Ah, Haitani! Just the man that I was looking for. Come, have a seat." The man invites with a huge menacing grin on his face, as he puts out the cigar on his expensive sofa.

It's my fucking office, you motherfucker.

Mario Ricci 一 he thinks it was, pauses counting the stacks of cash in his hands when Rindou does not move as he says. "Hmm?" He follows along his gaze which turns out to be stuck at you on the floor. His Italian accent is thick and heavy when he speaks, almost sounding like an ancient bard.

"I was passing through your halls and I saw this wonderful beauty standing right there, and I thought," he pauses, bending down slow to look at you.

"She'd be a perfect little mutt."

He tugs on the leash looped around his left hand, hard. His cologne fills up your nostrils from the distance and it is the only thing you can breathe in. More tears pool around your eyes as you cough 一 your throat is sore and the skin around it hurts. The buckle pushes hard against the side of your neck and he tugs another time.

"You wouldn't mind if I took this one home with me, yeah? You have plenty of sluts in your establishment already." There is a teasing glint in his eyes when he finally lets go, only to reach down and drag on your disheveled locks of hair.

He guides you like that 一 impatient and harsh 一 while you struggle with movement because you cannot look down at your hands, as you carefully crawl against the carpeted floor with your scalp red and painful.

You start sobbing again when he pulls away, and you lock eyes with the man that owns you, standing by the door.

There is fire in his eyes when he finally sees the picture that Mario painted for him. You're kneeling between his legs with two palms flat on the floor, catching your breath with uncontrollable drool dripping off your tongue.

Like a damn dog.

"God, she'd make a damn good slut. But I'm sure you already are during your time here, yeah, baby?" He taps on your cheek and swipes the drool away.

Your gaze is cloudy when you stare into Rindou's eyes. You're broken and battered. Your eyes no longer bright and shiny as when they used to admire him in the night, in his bed, when you'd draw your fingers along the lines and curves of his tattoos 一 they're filled with fear and you are so tired. You're shaking all around and you're so cold. You're a lot colder than what he's used to letting you feel. His fists tighten any more, deep in his pockets.

But he can still read you like an open book.

"This is a five million dollar deal." Kokonoi cuts in. "Can we be fucking serious? Just take the slut for free, Ricci. She's yours. We have more important things to talk about."

A quiet mewl escapes your throat when Mario grins, very satisfied with Kokonoi's words. You start to cry, begging, when he wraps a hand around your chin and bends down to give your cheek a wet kiss, disgustingly. You don't look away from Rindou the whole time.

Please don't give me away.

The sound of a gun clicking catches everyone's attention. You look him dead in the eye and he can hear you loud and clear.

Haitani Rindou isn't serious about a lot of things.

"Fucking let her go."

But he is serious about you.

"Or I'll put a bullet through your throat and it'll be no deal for all of us."

His own slut.

His favourite girl.

Sequel

[kpopflowerfield]

Gimmie Love | jjk

ღ pairing: playboy! jungkook x desperate! fem reader

ღ word count: 5.7k

ღ genre: angst & smut

ღ rating: nsfw, mdni

ღ warnings: toxic relationship, pet names(babe,baby), dirty sex, dom! jk, needy sex, a bit of voyerism is involved (jk tries to finger reader in movie theater), unprotected sex! (wrap up), Jungkook calls reader ‘slut’ once, fingering, throat fucking, jk is sadistic and loves being a tease

ღ networks: @k-vanity @k-library

ღ summary: ex situationship comes back into your life and you can’t help but find yourself back in your old habits of begging to be loved for the right reasons

ღ author’s note: ty to @tusswrites for beta reading!!

↠ check out the rest of the tracklist here! ↞

You looked around, absentmindedly listening to your friends. "Ooh, he's hot," Your friend Mina cooed as she stared out. You looked over at the man she was drooling over. He was attractive, about six feet, with milky skin and chestnut hair. She didn't know his name, but it didn't matter as she wasn't interested in names. "What about him?" Kyujin nodded her head in the direction of someone. Tan skin, about the same height as the other one, and had beautiful black waves. You shrugged a bit; they were attractive but not enough for you to thirst over as the two of them did. "What about you, Y/N?" They both spoke at the same time, and you shrugged. "I don't really care; I mean, they're all a one-night stand." You scoped out the place, seeing who else was around.

Your heart dropped for a moment as you looked around the room. Your eye locked in on that familiar muscular back. The tattoos that traveled down from the sleeves of the shirt, hugging his skin, made your guess right. You forced a swallow down your tightening throat. "I have to go to the bathroom, watch my drink?" You barely made eye contact with Kyujin as you scurried off. You locked the door behind you and took a deep breath. You walked over to the sink and took a moment to process that he was here.

Your palms started to hurt from the way you were gripping the countertop. You shut your eyes as you thought about him. Of course, he was there, it was his friend, but you haven't seen him at the past few parties that you've attended. So why the fuck was this the night he came to the party? Your thoughts froze as there was a knock on the door. "One minute!" You called out, stretching out your hands from the tense state they took from the hold you had on the counter. You fixed your hair and unlocked the door, opening it carefully. "I thought I saw you," That voice sounded sweet, like honey, as you looked at him. "It's nice to see you too, Jungkook," You lied and made your way to your friends.

Your friends smiled. "You're back! I was about to go find you," Kyujin teased as you nodded. "I'm actually going to go home now, just wanted to let you guys know," You gave them each a quick hug. "It's so early, are you sure?" Mina questioned you as you nodded. "Yeah, I'm just tired and have stuff I need to do. I'll text you," You smiled at them and walked out, leaving both of them confused by your odd behavior. You made your way home, your hands curled into fists in your pockets as you stared down at the ground. You didn't have to walk too far before texting your friends that you made it home safely. You took off your jacket and sighed as you sat down on your couch. The notification came from your friends messaging you, and you clicked on it. Thanking them for going out with you.

That's when you went to put your phone down on the couch beside you but stopped seeing the drop-down notification from Instagram. You swallowed, getting that throat-tightening feeling like when you were at the party. You clicked on the message and scoffed, reading it.

Jungkook: It's been a while since I've seen you. You still look amazing. It was nice to see you.

You closed out the message and went to your room with the intention of going straight to bed, but you could only think of what you had with Jungkook once upon a time. The way he used to hold you close and how it made you feel protected. You would have late-night conversations about anything and everything. You honestly didn't realize it was one way until you confessed. He never felt the same way about you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he did. Even though some of his actions were romantic and he only expected you to be with him, he never could say he liked you the way you liked him. The word 'love' would only leave his lips when he was talking about how it felt to fuck you. You fell hard for him, but he never felt that way.

You sighed to yourself and checked the message one more time. Maybe one last message wouldn't hurt? You could make it different this time, making it clear you didn't want just sex. It was something you could never confess to your friends, but you missed the physical connection you had with him. You could find someone else, but it would take too long before you could consider being as intimate as you were with Jungkook. You knew him for years before you slept with him, and even though you hadn't seen him in a few years, your heart still beat the way it did when you were close to him and spending every moment with him. Maybe it was just your hopeless romantic brain trying to convince the logical side that told you he wasn't worth more of your time.

Y/N: nice to see you, too. Maybe we can meet up?

Jungkook: I'd like that; what would you like to do?

Y/N: We can do something simple. Maybe a movie?

Jungkook: Just tell me when I'll pick you up.

You solidified your plans with Jungkook and got ready. Your anxiety was on high alert as you got ready, realizing you were actually meeting up after time apart. You promised yourself you wouldn't see him again, but that was a year ago, and you swear on everything that it would be different this time around. You walked out your door once you got a text from him saying he was outside. Your mind was wiped from whatever it was that you wanted to say as you opened the door and got in. The smell of his sweet cologne hitting your nostrils. "So, what movie were you thinking of?" He looked over at you as he drove. "Oh," You tried to think of a movie he would want to see. "You can pick," You smiled over at him. "Alright," He laughed a bit. "What's so funny?" You huffed as he looked over at you. "You haven't changed," He smiled at you and parked.

Your cheeks flushed as he got out and opened your door. "Wow, what a gentleman," You teased him as he shook his head. "Yeah, yeah." He shut the door behind you as you walked into the theater. "Want any snacks, babe?" He nodded to the wall of snacks. Your cheeks flushed hearing that sudden name. "Just popcorn," You nodded as he walked over to the counter, paying for your small bucket of popcorn. You watched him and smiled as he handed it to you. "How much?" You asked him as he shrugged. "Nothing for you," You shook your head at him. Maybe it wasn't just sexual for him to make such playful comments. You had to take that idea out of your head; it was your first time hanging out together in a while, and you shouldn't automatically assume it's what you want. Maybe it was just sexual still, but how could you tell? The two of you definitely did have a connection, but it was hard to put a label on it. You just knew that you missed it, and you were beyond grateful that you finally had a chance to rebuild it.

You both made it to the theater and sat down. Once the movie started to play, his hand crept up your thigh as you sat next to each other. His fingers were playing with the end of your skirt. Your face turned a bright red from the heat that spread. You knew what he was doing, and you wanted to stop him, but it was hard to fight it. His touch made your body warm up as he played with the lace material of your panties. He could feel the way your body was reacting and smirked. Your breath hitched as he moved your panties to the side and felt your wet slit, moving his finger up slowly. He leaned over to whisper in your ear. "You're soaked, and I haven't even played with you yet," He chuckled as you whimpered from his touch. He went to continue, and you held his arm, restraining him from going further. "I don't want to get caught," You stared at him as he shook his head. "You won't,"

You still held his arm and shook your head. "Not here," He nodded and moved his hand away from you. "Alright," He suddenly sounded annoyed with you, and you looked down, finding something else to focus on as your mind was racing once you realized his demeanor changed. The awkward tension stayed between the two of you for the rest of the movie. "Do you want me to drive you home?" He looked at you. You knew he was asking so he could most likely continue what he tried to start. You shook your head and smiled. "I have plans with my friends; I can have one of them pick me up," He nodded as you walked out of the theater. "Thank you for taking me out," You smiled at him as he nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Anytime,"

You sighed as he left and found a bench in the lobby to sit on. You called Mina, asking her for a ride and she showed up within a few minutes, and you got in her car. "How did you get here?" She couldn't help but question you immediately. "I came here with someone, but I didn't want to burden them." You shrugged as she sighed. "You wouldn't be burdening them if it was a date, you know that, right?" You nodded as she looked at you. "Who was your date?" She could sense how awkward you were with her question. "Don't tell me it was him," There was disappointment laced in her voice as you shrugged a bit. "Yeah, it was. I had a good time, though," She sighed at you again. "I thought he just wanted sex," She parked and stared at you. You fell silent as she watched you stare at your lap. "Listen, if it's what you want, I don't care, but I know you want a deeper relationship than what he has to offer."

You nodded and got out of her car. "Kyujin is upstairs; we're ordering some food, too." She got out after as you both walked up to her apartment. "Wowww, look how dressed up you are," Kyujin commented as you flushed lightly. "Where'd you go?" She questioned, seeing your skirt and makeup done. "She went out with Jungkook again," Mina spoke up; she sounded like a disappointed parent coming home to tell the other parent what they did wrong. Kyujin's face changed quickly. "Don't tell me that's true, Y/N," You shrugged her off and sat down on the couch. "Come on, Y/N, last time you went out with him, you were upset for weeks. You confessed, and he told you he wasn't interested like that, and you were heartbroken." Kyujin stared at you, along with Mina. "Guys, I know what I'm doing. I'm being more careful this time, and I won't get hurt. I promise," Your reassurance wasn't enough for them, but they didn't want to press anymore. They just wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with you.

Even though it seemed weird with your friends, you could tell it wasn't with malice but care for you. They didn't want to see you hurt again, and you understood that. That's why you were going to make it clear to Jungkook that nothing is going to be just sex. That's why when he messaged you at 11:30 the next night, you weren't opposed to saying yes. You showered and got yourself ready. Your nerves started to rack up as you drove to his. You started to plan the words that you wanted to say. Just wanting to get it out there immediately instead of waiting and letting yourself get hurt.

You walked up the steps of his apartment building and knocked lightly on his door. He opened the door after a few moments and let you in. "I'm so glad that you came over," His voice was so sweet, making your heart melt. The way he was dressed, however, made your brain flood with other ideas. The grey sweats hanging loosely on his bare hips. You tried to keep your composure as much as you could, not wanting to stare at his body for too long. "I'm glad you asked for me to come over," You smiled and walked over to his couch. "I actually wanted to say something." You started as he shushed you. "Afterwards," He looked at you; his eyes were filled with lust seconds after you walked in the door. You swallowed, remembering that dark look he always had. You closed your legs tightly together, not wanting to get too turned on just by his look.

"I've missed you," His voice was raspy as you laid down, letting him crawl on top of you and leave soft kisses on your neck. He could feel the way your core was heating up below him. His kisses continued to travel down until he hit the neckline of your clothing. His hand pushed up the loose tee shirt you had on. You let out a sharp exhale at his cold hands traveling up your sides. "Let's take this off," He slid his hands under your shirt as you sat up slightly, allowing him to strip you of your shirt and bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin from the cool air of his apartment. "How about I warm you up?" He smirked down at you; you couldn't resist nodding as you swallowed. The ache between your thighs grew as you saw his thick cock growing in his pants.

He took off your pants and moved your panties to the side. "I should finish what I started the other day," His finger teased your slit, a whimper escaped your lips as you felt him. The feeling of his rough fingers sent shivers down your spine as he pushed his finger in. "I've missed the way this pussy grips my fingers," He smirked as he curled his fingers, making you cry out in pleasure. "So loud already," He chuckled. You whimpered as his fingers moved quickly, pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt. "J-Jungkook," A soft moan escaped your lips as he hovered above you. He pulled his fingers out and smirked, sucking them clean of your juices.

You watched him intently, your cheeks flushed as he hovered above you. God, he looked better than you remembered. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, pulling him in closer to you as he leaned down. Your bodies lay flush together as he kissed that sweet spot on your neck, biting down lightly. You let out a breathless moan as he left open-mouthed kisses down your neck. "I can't wait to fuck you any longer," He rasped and pushed his pants down and looked at you, giving himself a few strokes before pulling your panties to the side again.

He held one of your hips, letting it travel to your lower back, and lifted you so he could push himself deep inside of you slowly and inch by inch. Watching as your face started to contort from the feeling of him being inside again. "God, I've missed this fucking pussy," He groaned as your walls adjusted to the familiar girth. He held your hips close to his as he moved slowly, the rhythmic deep thrusts making you moan out. "F-fuck me," You pleaded as he raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what I'm already doing?" He started to get a bit rougher, and you cried out. "Is this what you want? You want it faster?" He stared down at you, watching your chest bounce with each slow, brutal thrust. He bit his lip, teasing the way he fucked you.

"F-faster, please," You pleaded as he chuckled. "Look at you being a greedy slut," He gripped your hips as he picked up an unrelenting pace. You cried out as he didn't back down from the pace he had started. "Is this what you wanted?" He taunted as his hips jackhammered into yours. You couldn't give a response as you sobbed out from each thrust slamming into your hips. Your back arched as your walls gripped tightly around him. "Fuck yes, baby," He grunted. "You take this fucking cock so well," He tilted his head back and moaned. "I'm gonna fucking paint you all over," He hissed as his thrusts became more needy and not as rhythmic. "Y-you fuck me so fucking good," You sputtered, your walls spasming against him.

"I-I'm going to cum," You sobbed as your chest bounced up and down. "Do it," He demanded, sending shivers down your spine. He slammed into your hips, sending you over the edge. His cock twitched against your walls before he pulled out quickly, emptying himself on your stomach. Your lower body shook as he got off of you. He grabbed a box from the coffee table and handed it to you. "Here," your brain was clouded as he looked at you, shaking the box of tissues in your face. You grabbed a handful, and he tossed the box back onto the table.

You watched him pull his pants back up and walk to the kitchen as you wiped yourself off. Placing the dirty tissues on the table as he walked back. "Here," He handed you a water as you took it. "Thanks," You smiled softly, sitting up and taking a sip from the bottle. "Are you busy tomorrow?" You looked over as he shrugged. "Not really." You nodded a bit at his response. "Well, if you wanted to, we could go grab lunch or maybe some dinner?" You held the bottle in your lap. "Maybe." You bit your lip at his bland response. "Well, text me if you think of anything." You smiled at him. "Yep." Sensing the cold shoulder he was giving you, you put the water on the coffee table and collected your clothes, dressing yourself quickly. "I'm gonna go now," You cleared your throat, taking the water bottle with you as you walked out. "Have a good night," He said as you shut the door behind you.

You held your head and sat in your car for a moment. You didn't know why you put yourself in this situation again, and it was pissing you off. You thought, then called Kyujin. "Hey, can I come over?" You sounded tired. "Yeah, of course. Mina is over right now, too," She answered brightly. "I'll be there in ten," You drove off. "Drive safe, pookie!" Mina called out in the background as you laughed and hung up.

You walked upstairs and opened the door to her apartment. You walked over and flopped down on the couch. "What's wrong?" Mina's eyebrows furrowed as you reached over and grabbed the carton of ice cream Kyujin was holding. "You guys were right," You held the spoon and took a bite. Mina sighed and pulled you in close to her. "I'm sorry, Y/N," She rubbed your shoulders. "I just went over, and y'know," Your cheeks flushed; you were always awkward talking about sex. "But as soon as he finished, he stood up and walked away. He came back with water, but still, I tried to have a conversation, and he just ignored me; he clearly didn't want to talk to me." You took another bite as Kyujin joined in and embraced you. "I have to call it quits now; I know if I don't, I'll just get hurt." Kyujin nodded. "I know, and I know that you feel comfortable with him, but we care for you too much to see you get hurt by the same guy again,"

It hurt to hear the truth, but you needed it. You couldn't text him to tell him it was over, so instead, you ghosted him, and you let a week go by, and he never messaged you. It felt a bit too smooth, but you didn't want to jinx it. You felt so much better not stressing yourself out about him and feeling like you needed him to see you in another way than just sexual. Your friends were also proud of you for not talking to him again. They just knew your heart and how hard and fast you fall for someone. They hated Jungkook for how he hurt you last time, and they never wanted to see it again; they knew it was hard for you to leave the idea of being with him, and deep down, they knew it probably wasn't the last time he broke your heart.

And just like that, you knew you spoke too soon. Your phone buzzed, and there was his profile picture on your lock screen. You tapped on it, seeing he was inviting you over yet again. You bit your lip and thought about it. You did want to talk to him in person, explain your feelings, and tell him that sex isn't the only thing you want. You gave in on the chance and sent him a text, agreeing to see each other.

You got yourself ready and got in your car to drive to his place. You took a deep breath and practiced what you wanted to say to him as you drove. Once you knocked on that door, your eyes laid upon the sight of Jungkook whisking away your thoughts. Just standing there in a towel, letting you come in. You watched him as he walked to his bedroom. He didn't utter a word, but you followed him. You watched as he dropped his towel on the ground. You stared at every inch of his body, taking him in.

The words you had set up for you to say were no longer there. "Get on your knees for me, baby," You nodded, listening to everything he told you. You carefully got on your knees; the soft faux fur rug kept you away from the discomfort of the hardwood floors. You watched as he stroked his length, making it easier for you to suck on. You watched him reach for your hand, and you gave it to him. He placed it near the base of his cock as you took over for him. His head tilted back as he felt you. You looked up at him, parting your lips and taking his thick tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. He looked down at you, staring into your eyes. You bobbed up and down slowly, not wanting to choke on him. Your cheeks hollowed against him, making a groan escape his lips. "Fuck Y/N," He bit his lip as you locked eyes with him.

He watched you. "You can go faster, babe," He instructed. You hesitated, not sure how fast you could move on him. "Want help?" He taunted; before you could really process what he said, he wrapped his fingers in your hair and started moving your head on him. "Mm," He groaned out, followed by a shattered breath. You gagged as he touched the back of your throat, but that didn't stop him as he kept moving your head on him. "God, I love your pretty mouth," He groaned. Your eyes watered from each hard thrust into your mouth. Your hand quickly grabbed his thighs, making him stop as he looked down at you. "Are you okay?" He moved himself away from you as you panted, finally being able to breathe for a moment.

"I wanted to talk," You let out softly as he groaned. "Seriously?! That's why you stopped?" His anger was bubbling as you swallowed; it hurt for a moment from the aggression your throat had felt just moments ago. "Yes, that's why I came over in the first place. You saying 'you loved my mouth' reminded me." Your voice was still quiet as he shook his head at you. "You're unbelievable," He groaned. "No, I'm not! I'm tired of coming over here and being used! I never say anything cause I don't want to lose the friendship we had when we first started!" You defended yourself. "Used?! You seem to be enjoying it just as much as I do." He scoffed. "Stop. I just wanted to fucking talk to Jungkook. I wanted to tell you I don't want this just to be sex. That's what it's been the last two times. I want a relationship."

You stayed calm as you spoke, watching him grab a pair of boxers. "Like last time?" He stared daggers into you, sending shivers down your spine. "Yes! That's all I have fucking wanted," You sounded exhausted as you spoke. "What don't you get?! I don't want that! You could've said that at the movies if that's how you truly felt. Fucking hell, Y/N," He was loud as you stared at him. "If you can't have an honest-to-God conversation with me, then I'm leaving," It was an open threat; you still wanted to talk with him and didn't think he would give in. "Go right ahead!" He barked.

You stared at him, not sure why you were surprised about his reaction. You weren't going to take it back, though. You walked out his door, slamming it behind you. Tears fell as you got into your car. "I'm so fucking stupid," You sniffed. Your hands hit the steering wheel as your body tense from the frustration of the situation you put yourself into again. You sat there, staring into space, calming down before you drove off.

Your argument must've scared him off as you didn't hear from him for almost a month. It still made you upset when you thought about him. He used to be so kind, and you would stay up for hours having conversations. Then, it suddenly turned into sex with him. You both got curious and let him take your virginity as you took his. Maybe that's why you were trying to hold onto him so close. You gave him something that you planned to keep. You trusted him enough to take it, expecting him to stay with you and take your friendship to the next level, but he clearly can't give you what you want anymore.

You checked your phone constantly, with empty hopes of him texting you to apologize. You felt shameful every time you checked. All wrapped up in your feelings, you didn't realize you were ignoring your friends until they texted you in the group chat.

Mina: Hey, are you okay, hun? We haven't heard from you in a bit.

Kyujin: If you want, we can come over, or you can just talk to us whenever you're ready. ❤️

Y/N: yeah, I'm okay. Jungkook and I officially ended it. It was just a big argument that happened, but it's fine. I'm sorry I haven't reached out.

Mina: I'm glad you're okay. We're always here for you, babes. I know it sucks, but trust me, it's for the better that it's over.

Kyujin: Dude was a dickhead. I'm happy you have him out of your life now, Y/N.

You laughed a bit at Kyujin's remarks. She always spoke her mind, which you loved about her. You knew she was the person you went to if you wanted honesty, and Mina was always there to comfort you.

Mina: Yeah, he was such a bitch. He was only horny and didn't care about feelings, which is so stupid of him. You're the sweetest person I know, Y/N, and he wasn't good enough to learn that.

You smiled to yourself at everything your friends had to say. You regret not telling them earlier, but you felt like you still needed some time to process it. It was actually over with Jungkook, which was something you weren't sure would happen. Everything was running smoother than the week that went in between last time. Your phone buzzed on your kitchen counter, and you picked it up.

Unknown number: Hey, I'm sorry for texting you like this out of nowhere. I really want to talk. I don't know if you'd want to meet up, but maybe you can call me? I just need to talk to you and actually explain my feelings. I'm really sorry.

You stared at the text, realizing it was Jungkook. You wanted to give in so desperately. Maybe for some better closure, and that's all. But that voice in your head kept telling you no. All you could think of was how disappointed your friends would be if they knew you were in contact with him again. You turned your phone over and walked to your bedroom. Every little thing you were trying to do wasn't enough of a distraction from Jungkook's sudden text. You wanted to be better than you were and not text him. You picked up your phone and stared at the message again.

Y/N: You can call me whenever you'd like. I'm not willing to meet up with you.

"Why did I do that?" You mumbled and sighed, not expecting him to call since it wasn't in person. He wouldn't have a chance to change the conversation into much more over the phone when you could hang up on him if he were being too much. Your phone buzzed, and you picked up. "Hello?" You answered as you heard Jungkook take a deep breath. "Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry to reach out so far after everything," You could hear the way he was pacing through his apartment. "What did you want to talk about?" You questioned him, wanting to get straight to the point. "I wanted to apologize for snapping at you. I should've told you then, but I just didn't consider a relationship with you. I have been thinking it over, though," He swallowed. "I would like to have a relationship with you, Y/N. If you're still willing," He cleared his throat as you stayed silent. He pulled his phone away from his ear and put it back. “Y/N?” He questioned.

"Yeah, sorry. Just processing," You swallowed. "Why have you suddenly changed your mind? Last time we spoke, you made it clear you only wanted sex." You held your forehead, rubbing your temples. Your heart felt torn hearing him finally say he did want to be with you. "I do like you, Y/N. I've just been too busy focusing on the fun and not feelings. I'm so sorry for how I've treated you." The sudden 180° change left you confused, and you took a deep breath. "Listen, Jungkook. I thank you for the apology. But that's all you'll get from me. I'm not going to put up with this back and forth. Today, you say you want to be in a relationship, but two weeks from now, you'll tell me you aren't interested at all." You pursed your lips together, trying to think of anything else you had to say.

"Please, Y/N, one chance. Let me make it up to you," He begged as you scoffed. "You've had two chances, Jungkook. I don't know how many more I can give you. You can try again in six months if you’re serious. You just can't have sex on your mind when you contact me next." You hung up and tossed your phone on the couch. It hurt to finally shut him down, especially when he sounded interested in something more with you. Tears slowly went down your face as you lay down in bed. "Thank god for closure," You mumbled before turning over.

5 months later

Even though it wasn’t a “break-up” breakup it took you a while to recuperate yourself. It was hard to move on from someone you spent years talking to. Even though it was one-sided he felt like your first love. Your friends kept pushing for you to get out more, encouraging you to speak to people they felt would be a good pairing for you.

You always told them you would reach out but you never did, it felt forced to you if you reached out after your friends begged you to. You wanted to find someone yourself. You made sure to leave your apartment often, just to go on walks and see what was around as businesses were opening left and right. That’s when you saw Hoseok just staging bouquets outside of his flower shop. You knew you had to introduce yourself. Hitting it off with him was easy. He took you out to dinner and always brought home custom bouquets of your favorite flowers for you. He was the man you’ve been dreaming of all these years. Even with all the heartbreak you put yourself through with Jungkook, you didn’t regret it if that was meant to happen for your path to Hoseok.

“Hey baby?” He called out to you. “Yes, my love?” You looked over at him as he fixed the sleeves on his buttoned linen shirt. “I have to stop by the shop, did you want to come with me? We could stop for a nice lunch too.” You nodded quickly and he smiled, watching as you changed into one of the many sundresses he’s bought you. He smiled, seeing you fix your necklace in the mirror and wrapped his arms around your back. “You’re so beautiful,” He cooed as you flushed.

You walked with him hand in hand to his store. “Y/N?” You heard that desperate voice and turned around. You realized it was Jungkook and turned back around. Hoseok noticed your reaction, leaning to whisper in your ear. “Who is that?” He questioned as you shook your head. “No one,” He raised an eyebrow at your answer, clearly not believing you. “Seriously hobi, it’s no one,” You smiled as he nodded,kissing your nose as Jungkook watched you walk away, realizing he actually let you go.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 12 of 12

Synopsis: endings

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: violence?

masterlist

—

The sun was beginning to dip low on the horizon, casting an amber glow over the beach as the Pogues lounged in the sand, kicking back after a long, quiet afternoon. Pope and Kie were in the shallows, talking softly while John B. tried to fix an old boat motor that had been giving them trouble. JJ sprawled on a towel beside Y/N, tossing a small rock into the air and catching it absently, his usual energy subdued.

Y/N hadn’t missed the shift in his mood since the Midsummer’s Ball. He’d grown distant, quiet, like he was keeping something to himself. She couldn’t decide whether to be grateful that he hadn’t confronted her or frustrated that he couldn’t just say what was on his mind.

"Hey, you guys hear about the Kooks causing trouble around here again?" Kie asked, breaking the silence, her voice laced with annoyance.

Y/N glanced over at Kie, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"Just… they're getting bold," Kie muttered, shaking her head. "Topper’s been running his mouth about us. Can't stand the guy."

Before anyone could respond, the sound of an engine rumbled in the distance, cutting through the calm evening air. Y/N’s heart skipped as she looked up to see a familiar Jeep coming down the winding path toward the beach. Topper, Kelce, Ruthie, and—Y/N's stomach twisted—Rafe.

"Ugh, speak of the devil," Kie muttered under her breath, pushing herself up from the sand.

Y/N felt the tension immediately. The Kooks had no business being here, especially not now, not after everything. The last thing they needed was a confrontation—yet, it seemed like they were heading straight for it.

Topper’s voice rang out first, full of mockery. "Oh, look at this—Pogues on the beach, doing what they do best—being poor and pathetic."

Rafe climbed out of the Jeep, his eyes scanning the group, but instead of the usual smugness, there was something more measured in his stance. He was trying to play it cool, trying not to make things more obvious than they already were. Y/N could almost see the internal battle on his face.

"Not today, Topper," Rafe’s voice was low but firm, a hint of an order laced in the words. “We’re not here for this.”

Topper ignored him, turning to Pope with a sneer. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Maybe it's time we teach you a lesson."

He shoved Pope roughly, sending him stumbling back into the sand. Pope scrambled to his feet, but before he could get a word out, Topper’s fist was already in motion, landing a blow square to Pope’s jaw.

"Hey!" JJ was on his feet in an instant, charging toward Topper, but Rafe stepped between them before the fight could escalate. "Knock it off, all of you," Rafe said, his voice harder now. He glared at Topper and Kelce, his posture tense as he put a hand on Topper's chest, holding him back.

Topper’s eyes flicked to Rafe with confusion, then to Pope, who was trying to regain his balance. "What the hell is this, Rafe? You’re gonna side with these losers?"

"Just get out of here, Topper," Rafe repeated, his voice colder now. "You don’t want this fight. Not today."

Kelce, still looking a little too eager for a scuffle, tried to lunge forward, but Rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back with surprising strength. "I said leave."

Topper glared at him, but the warning in Rafe’s tone was clear. Without another word, they backed off, getting into the Jeep and peeling away from the beach. The Pogues were left standing there, still in shock, the tension hanging thick in the air.

Y/N rushed over to Pope, checking on him. "You okay?"

He nodded, brushing sand off his clothes. "Just a scratch, I’ll be fine."

The others gathered around, murmuring in confusion. It was obvious that Rafe had done something none of them expected—he had sided with them, helped them out. But why?

"Why the hell did he do that?" Kie asked, looking out toward the retreating Jeep. "That’s not like him. Why the sudden change?"

Y/N stood still for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath before stepping forward, speaking calmly but firmly. "I… I’m the reason."

The group turned toward her, eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?" Pope asked, frowning.

"I’ve been… I’ve been seeing Rafe," Y/N admitted, feeling the weight of their stares. "We’re together."

Silence hung in the air for a long moment as the group processed her words. Kie’s jaw dropped, and she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

Y/N nodded. "I know it’s not what you expected, but he’s different now. He’s changed. He’s not the same person he was."

Kie’s eyes narrowed, her face reddening with anger. "Are you serious, Y/N? After everything that guy’s done, you’re dating him?"

Y/N took a step back, feeling the sting of Kie’s reaction. "I know it’s hard to believe, but—"

Pope cut her off, his voice quieter than usual. "You’re really with him? After everything? Even knowing who he is?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "It’s not easy, okay? But he’s not like the Kooks anymore. He’s not like Topper or Kelce. He’s… trying. And I believe in him."

John B. was oddly quiet. Too quiet. He stared at the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets. His silence didn’t escape Y/N’s notice. There was something in the air between them, a silent understanding that was hard to place.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. "JJ," she said softly, turning to him. "What do you think?"

JJ looked up at her, his face unreadable, his eyes too calm. Too calm. Y/N felt her blood run cold, the realization dawning on her slowly.

He already knew.

"JJ?" Her voice trembled now. "You knew?"

He gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, shrugging slightly. "I figured it out. A while ago."

Y/N felt a chill creep through her. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

JJ didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her for a long moment, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. "You didn’t need me to say anything," he finally replied, his voice thick with regret. "I thought you had it under control. But I guess I was wrong."

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this… this quiet acknowledgment made it worse.

Without another word, JJ turned away, walking toward the ocean, his figure slowly disappearing into the fading light.

Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to go after him, to fix things, but something told her she couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

As the sun set, casting the beach in hues of orange and pink, Y/N realized that the silence between her and JJ might be the loudest thing she’d ever hear.

—

The sky had darkened, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only noise filling the night air as Y/N walked along the beach, her feet sinking into the wet sand. She hadn’t planned to come here—hadn’t really planned anything—but the need for space, for clarity, had led her here, away from the group and their questions.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

“Hey,” JJ’s voice broke through the quiet, and Y/N looked over to see him standing a few steps behind her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair was messy, his face unreadable.

“You found me,” Y/N said, managing a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had expected him to follow her. She’d known it was only a matter of time.

“Couldn’t stay away, could I?” JJ replied, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “We need to talk.”

Y/N nodded, stepping aside to let him walk up beside her. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the rhythm of the ocean filling the space between them. Y/N’s thoughts were racing—this conversation had been inevitable, but she wasn’t sure how to even start. There was so much she wanted to say, but part of her didn’t know where to begin.

“How long have you known?” she asked, her voice soft but steady as she turned to face him. “About Rafe and me.”

JJ glanced over at her, a sad smile tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his posture defensive but tired. He didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to stare out at the dark water rolling in front of them.

After a beat, he sighed deeply. “Since Midsummers,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Her blood ran a little cold at the calmness in his voice. “For weeks?” she asked, almost in disbelief. “You’ve known about us for that long?”

JJ was silent for a moment, his gaze flicking to the water before locking with hers. “I saw you two at Midsummer’s. I saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you.” His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on. “I thought I knew what was going on. I thought you were just caught up in something with him, like maybe it was just a stupid mistake. But when I saw you laughing—like, really laughing, for the first time in so long—I realized... you don’t need me, Y/N.”

“You know, I thought I had it figured out. But when you told them about you and Rafe… I guess I didn’t expect it to hit like that.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, letting the words hang in the air between them. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to hear. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

JJ chuckled softly, but it didn’t sound like his usual laugh. It was empty. “Hurt me? Nah. I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want to be the one to push you into saying something you weren’t ready for.” He looked over at her then, his eyes searching. “And now... now I just feel like I pushed you away.”

Y/N frowned, her chest tightening. She hadn’t expected him to say that, hadn’t expected the guilt that weighed heavy in his tone. "JJ, no. You didn’t push me away."

“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I was too busy with my own stuff, too wrapped up in whatever was going on with me.” JJ’s voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say more, but instead, he just exhaled sharply. “I didn’t even see what was happening between you and Rafe. I should’ve been there for you. But I didn’t—"

"JJ," Y/N interrupted gently, her voice soft but firm. She stepped closer to him, meeting his gaze. "You didn’t do anything wrong. What happened between me and Rafe—it’s not about you. It’s about me. I had to make my own choices, and I did. But it wasn’t because of you or anything you did—or didn’t do. It was because I needed to figure out who I am. I can’t keep waiting for people to tell me who I should be or what I should do."

She paused, watching him carefully. "I know it’s hard, but I’m not doing this to hurt you. It’s not about you."

JJ seemed to absorb her words for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in that familiar tight line, but his shoulders had relaxed a little. “I get it. I think I do, at least. I just… I’m not used to you being like this. I’m not used to seeing you with him, of all people.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her gaze softening. "I get that. I don’t expect you to understand everything, but I don’t want you to think it’s something you did. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it."

JJ looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, his signature half-smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I’m not as good at this whole ‘being a friend’ thing as I thought. But hey, if Rafe makes you happy, I’ll deal with it." His voice grew more serious. "I just want you to be okay, Y/N. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

JJ seemed to absorb her words for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in that familiar tight line, but his shoulders had relaxed a little. “I get it. I think I do, at least. I just… I’m not used to you being like this. I’m not used to seeing you with him, of all people.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her gaze softening. "I get that. I don’t expect you to understand everything, but I don’t want you to think it’s something you did. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it."

JJ stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like an insurmountable wall. Finally, he let out a long, tired sigh. “I get it,” he said, his voice quiet now. “I just—I guess I didn’t expect to feel so damn useless.”

Y/N’s heart twisted in her chest. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, her hand resting gently on his arm. “You’re not useless, JJ. You’re not. You’ve always been there for me. Always. But I have to figure this out for myself. And I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear. I never meant for it to be this way.”

He looked down at her hand for a moment, then met her gaze. His eyes were still filled with that mix of sadness and understanding, but there was something else there now—a hint of resignation, like he was finally accepting the way things had to be.

“I know,” he said softly. “And maybe I do need to let go a little. It’s just... hard.” He shrugged, a weak attempt at a smile tugging at his lips. “But I’ll get there. Eventually.”

Y/N nodded slowly, relieved that he wasn’t angry with her. There was still pain between them, but maybe this was how they moved forward. Not together like they used to be, but still a part of each other’s lives in a different way.

“I’ll always be your friend, JJ,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “No matter what. That’s never going to change.”

He gave her a small, tired smile, but it was enough. “I know.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the air thick with the understanding between them. Y/N’s heart was lighter now, and she felt a sense of relief she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Hey,” JJ broke the silence again, his voice a little lighter, “You’re still my favorite pain in the ass, you know that?”

Y/N chuckled, the familiar warmth creeping back into her chest. "Right back at you, J."

JJ nudged her playfully, the first spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "So, if you’re dating Rafe, does that mean I get to punch him in the face next time he pisses me off?"

“You’re impossible,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

JJ’s expression softened, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, if Rafe goes back to his old Kookish ways, you know where to find me, right?”

Y/N chuckled lightly, a mix of relief and affection in her gaze. “I’m not worried.”

“Good. But just in case,” JJ added with a wink, “I’ll be waiting.”

As they stood there, the waves crashing softly behind them, it was like a weight had been lifted—some unspoken tension between them had finally been laid to rest. They weren’t where they used to be, but maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.

—-

It had been a few months since that tense evening at the beach, and things had slowly started to shift. The Pogues and Kooks still didn’t exactly mingle like old friends, but the air between them wasn’t as heavy as it once was. The days of outright hostility were behind them—well, mostly. It was a work in progress, but progress had been made.

The group had gathered again at the Boneyard, and this time, things felt almost normal. The waves crashed lazily on the shore, and the sun dipped into a mellow orange hue, casting the evening in that perfect, golden light. Y/N sat on the hood of a car with Rafe next to her, his arm casually draped around her shoulders, while the others hung back a bit, trying to bridge the divide in their own ways.

Kie and Pope had softened considerably, their initial distrust of Rafe and Sarah finally easing. It wasn’t that they were best friends yet, but there was a mutual understanding. Kie, ever the realist, still threw the occasional side-eye toward Rafe, but it wasn’t venomous anymore. Pope had accepted the change in Rafe, or at least, he was trying to.

“You know, this is weird,” Kie said suddenly, breaking the silence. She was sitting beside Pope on a weathered old bench, eyeing Rafe and Y/N. “I can’t believe we’re all just hanging out like this.” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and something else—like she was letting herself believe this might actually work.

Pope, who had been quietly observing, nodded. “I get it. But... I think it’s okay. Rafe’s trying, and Sarah, too. They’re not exactly the Kooks we remember.”

“Yeah,” Kie said, shifting her weight on the bench. “They’re... trying.”

Rafe, who had been chatting quietly with Y/N, glanced over at the two of them. He smiled slightly and gave them a small wave, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t expect them to be best buds, but there was something reassuring about not being treated like a villain at every turn.

Y/N caught his eye and smiled, her expression warm. She knew the weight of the situation, and though it hadn’t been an easy road, this felt like progress. Rafe had come a long way from the arrogant, entitled guy he used to be, and that was enough for her, for now.

The awkward tension in the air was still there, of course, but it wasn’t quite as suffocating. It was almost... manageable.

“Hey, anyone up for a game?” John B. called out, tossing a ball in the air. He was trying his best to lighten the mood, despite still avoiding eye contact with Rafe. There was a long-standing tension there, one that wasn’t easily erased. But John B. had accepted the reality of the situation. If Rafe was going to be in Y/N’s life, then he was going to have to get used to it.

A few people started moving toward the makeshift volleyball net that had been set up, and Sarah, noticing the change in the mood, made her way over to join them. She was surprisingly easygoing these days, something Y/N hadn’t expected but had grown to appreciate. It was clear that Sarah had softened, too—maybe because of her relationship with John B., maybe because she was finally trying to find a balance between her Kook world and the Pogues’ chaotic one.

As the group began to get settled into the game, Y/N and Rafe stayed back, watching. They had their own quiet moment—just the two of them, away from the noise. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it tense—it was just... peaceful. The soft hum of the conversation from the others, the laughter echoing across the sand, the gentle rhythm of the waves—everything felt a little more settled than it had in the past.

“How long do you think this will last?” Rafe asked, his voice low as he looked over at the group.

Y/N didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she leaned back against the car, her gaze following the others as they huddled together, already bickering over who would serve first. It was the kind of bickering that felt like home. She was used to it—hell, she was part of it. But there was something about tonight, about how everyone was just... trying to make it work, that felt different.

“Longer than you think,” she replied after a beat, nudging him playfully. “You’re not as bad as they thought. Just give it time.”

Rafe looked over at her, his expression thoughtful. “You really think that?”

Y/N’s smile softened. “I know that,” she said, her tone confident. “Besides, I’m here, right?”

Rafe’s gaze lingered on her, a small, genuine grin forming at the corners of his lips. For a moment, he seemed to relax, as though her words were enough to settle something in him. It wasn’t about winning everyone over immediately—it was about doing the right thing and letting things happen in their own time.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost to himself. “I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to screw up... us.”

Y/N’s hand found his, her fingers lightly brushing against his. She squeezed it gently, reassuring him without words. The quiet moments between them had always been some of the best. She wasn’t in a rush to prove anything, and neither was he. They were building something slow and steady—something that would last.

“I know you won’t,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. They’ll see the change eventually.”

Rafe nodded, taking in her words. “Yeah,” he said, his smile growing a little more. “I think they will.”

As the game kicked off with loud laughter and friendly arguments over the rules, Y/N and Rafe stayed in their little bubble, watching the others interact. The group wasn’t perfect, but they were getting there. 

---

JJ stood for a long while, lingering by the edge of the Boneyard, his eyes fixed on the group. They were laughing, sharing stories, the sound of their voices blending with the rhythm of the waves, but he was still on the outside, watching quietly. The way Y/N’s smile brightened when Rafe said something to her. The way she leaned into him, her hand resting gently on his. There was a comfort there, an ease between them that made JJ feel like he was witnessing something both familiar and foreign at the same time.

He wasn’t jealous. At least, not in the way he used to be. It wasn’t the pang of unspoken longing anymore, the ache of what he thought could have been. No, this was different. This was the realization that Y/N had found something, someone, who made her light up in a way he hadn’t been able to.

JJ’s gaze flicked over to the rest of the group: Pope and Kie chatting with Sarah, the way they were making an effort now, and even Rafe, who—surprisingly—seemed to be fitting in, not as a villain but as someone who had done the work. He saw the way they had all softened over time, not just with each other, but with themselves.

And then there was John B., his best friend, his brother. The two of them, the ones who had always had each other’s backs, even when everything else seemed to be falling apart. John B. had grown up, too. He wasn’t the same reckless, carefree guy he used to be. He was still John B., but there was something different about him now, something grounded. And JJ could see it in his face—the way he was looking at the others, at Y/N and Rafe, without that old edge, without the tension that had always been there. It was like John B. had figured something out, too.

JJ’s eyes lingered on them, on the way the group was finally fitting together. There was a part of him that wondered if it would have been the same if he hadn’t stepped back, hadn’t realized that what he’d been holding onto wasn’t his to keep. But watching them now, laughing and comfortable in their own way, he knew that sometimes the hardest part was letting go. Letting go of expectations. Letting go of guilt. Letting go of a version of himself that didn’t fit anymore.

JJ realized, without fully understanding when or how it had happened, that things had shifted. Not just with Y/N and Rafe, not just with him, but with all of them. They were moving forward. They were different, but they were still together.

The breeze swept over him, cool against his skin, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the weight of the past dragging him down. The guilt, the regrets, the missed chances—all of it felt distant, as if they were things he had outgrown. There was no need to keep carrying them, no need to keep pushing himself to be something he wasn’t. He could just be.

He stood there for a while longer, letting the quiet settle in, until his feet moved on their own, pulling him toward the firelight. He wasn’t sure what had changed exactly, but it was something big. Something important. Maybe it was the way he had let go of the things he couldn’t control. Maybe it was the way he had learned to accept that Y/N’s happiness wasn’t tied to him. But whatever it was, it felt like the first step toward something new.

When he finally rounded the corner and rejoined the group, Y/N’s gaze caught his. She didn’t say anything, just gave him that small, knowing smile—the kind she always had when things felt right, when everything clicked into place. It was a look that said, I see you, and for once, that was enough.

JJ didn’t need any fanfare. He didn’t need to make any grand gestures. He simply slid into his place in the circle, joining the easy rhythm of their laughter, the unspoken comfort of being together. There was no pressure, no need for explanations. The air felt lighter now, and everything, somehow, seemed to fit.

As he settled into the group, his heart wasn’t heavy anymore. There was peace in that, in knowing that he could just be himself, that he could let things be without needing to control them.

Things were changing. Slowly, but surely, the pieces were falling into place, and JJ  felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

------

Taglist: ​​

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu

[vidavalor]

Love reading your thoughts, @masnadies! Have some in return on the shop metaphor and why I think Aziraphale does attempt sleep at times, if you or anyone else is interested. No pressure. 😊

Cute excuse, too, for one of my favorites of @mimisempai's correctly "incorrect" gifs 😊

<<If we can be bookshops (and honestly, I can't think of much I'd rather be), then all the mementos are memories, and all the books are what? knowledge? also memories? ideas? Intriguing, in any case, as the bookshop is full of clutter and rare, valuable books, none of that cheap stuff but it's everywhere all mixed up and nobody can figure it out. All of that is lovely for metaphor of Aziraphale.>>

I can't think of anything I'd rather be than a bookshop, either. 😊 i think Aziraphale is the bookshop on two, different-but-interconnected levels, I think. One is the metaphorical one we're talking about here; the other is the characters' sexually euphemistic one, which I think exists in the dialogue, in part, to help us see the metaphorical use of the bookshop for Aziraphale. It makes it more interesting, though, because Aziraphale using the bookshop as a stand-in for himself in innuendo means that he and Crowley are self-aware of the metaphor, which allows the characters themselves to be seen playing with it as metaphor and not just as innuendo as well.

So, we have the innuendo-laden things like "Just as that bookshop, technically, is my shop, but we both get plenty of use out of it, don't we?" and the "you like waiting inside" and the "get thee behind me, foul fiend-- after you!"... but we also have Crowley and Aziraphale aware that what is, technically, each their own, is also one another's, because they are a couple. So, The Bentley is Aziraphale's and the bookshop is Crowley's, and that means that it's "Fells' Bookshop" and "no more old bookshops" and "you can't leave this bookshop", etc..

I think that there is a slight difference in understanding between the main characters on this. Not when it comes to the innuendo-- they both get that. It's actually more in how Crowley uses it sometimes and it comes down to how they each see Aziraphale. Aziraphale sees the bookshop like how he sees himself-- not good enough, a compromise when Crowley deserves more-- while Crowley sees the bookshop as clever and safe and home. The same thing that Aziraphale sees as the best he could offer Crowley when he wants to give him more is something that Crowley sees as the most romantic of gestures and evocative of their love for each other and the life they're trying to make together. Aziraphale has still not fully seen this, I don't think. It's the root of the confusion of "you can't leave this bookshop" in 2.06. I think we can all see that Crowley means that Aziraphale can't leave him and their life together but, ironically, Aziraphale had spent the whole season low key trying to figure out how to get them the fuck out of the damn bookshop lol.

Crowley had been struggling to feel safe in there since the fire and why even run it anymore when Heaven hadn't shown up in years and Aziraphale never wanted to run a bookshop? I think he was struggling to figure out whether or not he had an obligation to keep the embassy open or if he could just pack it in and tell Crowley about the cottage and just go live like normal people. He didn't know how to handle that with threats of Heaven and Hell and Armageddon still looming-- The Finale'll solve the rest of that-- but he was circling asking Crowley to go with him to the South Downs. So, when Crowley is all "you can't leave this bookshop" and means him and their life, he thinks Aziraphale was breaking up with him when Aziraphale replies with that (brutal lol) "oh, Crowley, nothing lasts forever." Because Aziraphale thinks they're talking about the actual bookshop because, like The Baby Swap was in S1, The Final 15 is a series of miscommunications based around how no one can understand each other because they're all too in their own heads when it comes to what they're thinking/worrying about to fully recognize what the other person is saying.

I think that all of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders represent different things in the story based on their personalities and on what kind of businesses they run but, running under all of that, is the fact that Aziraphale actually has two businesses on Whickber Street. He's also a landlord. He owns the land and many of the buildings on and in which the people on Whickber Street are working/living, which means that, metaphorically-speaking? They're all Aziraphale's businesses, too. Aziraphale and Crowley's because they're both the bookshop and Whickber Street. The shopkeepers and traders exist in their own rights but they also exist to highlight stuff about Crowley and Aziraphale and their story.

The two angels who come into the shop in S2-- Gabriel and Muriel-- help further define the books metaphor, imho. Muriel, established to be really lonely, asks Crowley at the end if they can "take a book" with them because "books are like people, only portable." Gabriel spends the season trying to rearrange the books in what winds up being metaphorical for how he sees people. He doesn't need categories or labels or genres and he doesn't judge by their covers-- it's just open up the book, read what it's saying, and group it alongside others by its words. Yes, it gets you some wild bookshelves and possibly the inability to ever find any book ever again lol but, if we're talking about people? It's a great idea. Gabriel and Muriel see books as people because that's who wrote them-- they're the ideas of other living beings and represent their lives. Aziraphale being an avid collector of books and protective of them and careful in preserving their history is, to me, reflecting how much he loves humanity and his ongoing quest to understand life-- pretty much in the same way that us humans love books.

Agreed on the clutter and the million desks and everything in the shop being symbolic of Aziraphale's inner state. I'd also say that it's actually also symbolic of Crowley's, too-- more than it might appear at first to be. He was never really safe in his Hell-owned flat in S1. The bookshop is his home, too--and also, I'd wager, why he never got another flat after Shax took his old one. He could have just gotten another flat or we could have seen him living in a hotel or something in S2. Instead, he's fooling Hell into thinking that he's living entirely in his car while he's really only there for a couple of hours in the morning because it also serves to make it look like he's saying "look at poor me here in my car! I'm definitely not living with the angel!" 😂 I think it's also why Aziraphale never notices that Crowley lost his flat. Why would he when Crowley just basically lives in the shop most nights, all Romeo sneaking out of Juliet's bed before dawn (one of the things which "no nightingales" references being that bit of Shakespeare's play, likely really written by one of them, probably Aziraphale)?

Crowley stays most of the night and goes out the side door before the sun comes up to avoid them getting caught. Those are basically "the rules" of their relationship that Aziraphale refers to in Lockdown, I think. If we go back up to the pictures of the bookshop that the OP was kind enough to provide, we can see that side door on the right-- built in as part of Aziraphale's design in the part of the shop that opens into the alleyway, not on Whickber Street. The bookshop was likely built on an angle just for that purpose. The bookshop's side door is directly opposite Mrs. Sandwich's building and that's probably how she and Crowley became friendly-- they ran into each other in the alley at night. It's a bit of sleight-of-hand from our no-stranger-to-the-art-of-prestidigitation magician. Anyone watching Aziraphale would be looking at the front door of the bookshop and be far less likely to notice Crowley slip out the side door in the dark. No Bentley parked in front of the shop when Crowley's staying past business hours, as well, as what else could scream "totally fucking" more than Crowley's ridiculously recognizable car on the curb in front of the shop at 3am?

Also why/how Crowley was in his car on a side street a fast two minute drive away from the bookshop first thing in the morning in 2.01. The way these two just want to wake up together and have breakfast in peace... 😢

<<It also works with the fire and the reconstitution of the bookshop going with the discorporation and re-constitution via Adam of Aziraphale and the book shop (and the Bentley, that is interesting as Crowley did not die, hmm, further thought perhaps there for me)>>

Yes! That's what I think, too. The Bentley burning is interesting because Crowley's kind of going through a paralleling kind of thing but maybe not quite the same thing. The Bentley goes on fire because Crowley drives it through the ring of fire around the M-25, right? As he's about to, we flashback and see that Crowley influenced the building of the M-25--so, the highway is symbolic of Crowley having made his own mess and him having to get himself out of it. If he didn't, it would have eventually consumed him because he was literally trapped inside it. He's breaking free of his own stuff versus Aziraphale getting kind of accidentally caught in his own web a bit.

The bookshop is Aziraphale's M-25-- it's the "same daily round" that he's stuck in, like the horoscope God read. I'm sure he didn't want it to burn entirely. It is his home and he loves his books and all of his things and wouldn't have wanted to have lost all of them but you know that scene for which they made that concept art but then cut out of the end of 2.02? The one where the bookshop is the only thing that's survived an apocalypse and was supposed to be someone's dream?

Yeah, I bet that was going to be Aziraphale's dream. His nightmare, really. He's seen so many horrors in the whole history of Earth and remained past so much death and his nightmare would be having to see Earth destroyed so the bookshop kind of representing him there in the dream in that way, maybe? But also a nightmare in the sense that Aziraphale feels like he cannot get the hell out of the bookshop. He feels trapped in it because of how it represents how he tries to balance all the different facets of his life. His whole breakdown comes about as a result of basically just being like fuck this, I can't take it anymore-- everyone come on in at once, we're having a party! and then promptly, understandably, having an anxiety attack over exactly that. It's the angel who is going too fast in S2, not the demon.

<<but I also like to believe he doesn't sleep, in my opinion due to trauma, and I can't quite figure that bit out yet. Is it lazy writing or did he exaggerate or have pyjamas for show?>>

I'll agree with you that I don't think that Aziraphale sleeps well a lot of the time. I can definitely see that and for the same trauma-related reasons you mentioned. He has problems sleeping at times-- nightmares, etc.. Like a lot of people, he also likely doesn't sleep or sleep very well when in one of his fasting (actually: depression) periods.

I believe the main thing that causes people to believe that Aziraphale doesn't sleep at all is the bit from the book where he's talking about how he and Crowley don't "need sleep" but... just read it again below and look at how Crowley phrases the last line of his reply:

Aziraphale didn’t rise to it. “What are we going to do now?”

“Try and get some sleep.”

“You don’t need sleep. I don’t need sleep. Evil never sleeps, and Virtue is ever-vigilant.”

“Evil in general, maybe. This specific part of it has got into the habit of getting its head down occasionally.”

I can practically hear Aziraphale's flirty/teasing tone here and the idea that that is what's happening is reinforced by the last line of Crowley's reply above. It's more common in most places, even if it sometimes happens in Britain, to say "laying your head down" to refer to sleep, as opposed to saying "getting [your] head down." If you lay your head down, you're going to sleep. If you get your head down, you're simply moving your head down to a lower position... do you see where I'm going with this? 😂

Now, add into it that he also uses in the sentence the word habit, which isn't just something one does consistently but the head covering of a nun... and now take a little trip around things like how we say that people who are lovers are "sleeping together" and sleep being phrased as to "rest your head" while still also the head being not just the place where the brain is stored but the tip of the penis and getting that "down" would be to satisfy an erection and "to get/give head" being slang for oral sex and we're circling what the sleep paragraph in the book is really more about than just actual sleep.

Crowley does sleep but he's referring more to the fact that he's "gotten in the habit" of "getting his head down"-- aka going down on Aziraphale. That's the kind of rest he's suggesting they have, beyond some actual shut-eye-- probably a bit of both.

Crowley also uses the word occasionally here-- a word that comes from the Latin cadere, which means... to fall. If you were a pair of wordplay-happy supernatural entities who ushered in the so-called Fall of Man together-- and one of you is a fallen angel and the other is called Mr. Fell and you both fell in love with one another a long time ago-- you'd absolutely love flirting using words that link to the verb meaning to fall as euphemistic for making love, particularly for falling/going down on one another.

As such, when Crowley uses occasionally in this part of the book, it doesn't mean 'every once in a while' so much as it means 'as the occasion calls for it' and there's plenty of reason to assume that it there are plenty of occasions...

This word is also in the series. It's in Aziraphale's innuendo-laden, verbally italicized use of "special occasions" in 1.01:

Around the 14th and 15th centuries, special actually meant a person's lover or romantic partner. It's really only sort-of survived into today in use of the phrase "special someone" and that is slightly different than calling someone your "special", the way it was apparently done in those earlier centuries. A "special occasion", in Ineffable Husbands Speak, would definitely be a reason to celebrate outside of the usual ones, yes, but it also appears to be going down on your sweetheart, which is what Aziraphale is expressing interesting in doing in that 1.01 scene.

Here's where we can just say now after S2 that the above "special occasions" scene is even funnier because Aziraphale isn't telling Crowley anything about the wine that he doesn't already know, as he and Aziraphale were drinking from that stash of Chateauneuf-de-Pape back in 1941, Part 2. Aziraphale was likely bringing it up in that 1.01 moment, in part, so he can say the words around it. How many cases did Aziraphale pick up for his "occasions" with his special? A "sleep"-relevant number: a dozen. 😂 That joke has apparently grown on him since when Crowley made it in 1601...

This also all gets even funnier when you add in the other, descriptive passage about Crowley and sleep from the book, which has lines like: Crowley likes sleep, it was one of the pleasures of the world. True of both sleep and sex and the rest of the paragraph talks about sleep but using sentences the word choice for which makes them alternately appear to be about sleep and sex or worded in such a way as to be applicable both at once, all reinforcing the idea of sleep having an euphemistic layer to it.

Aziraphale's response to Crowley's suggestion that they "try to get some sleep" in the book is often taken really literally, I think, when the tone is actually kind of light and flirty. It's basically the same tone as this, similar scene from the series:

In the book, it's more clever use of puns. Virtue-- Aziraphale, here-- is a word that just originally a human man and "manliness" and then came to mean good moral character. Virtue, says Aziraphale with tongue-in-cheek, is "ever-vigilant." Vigilant means-- literally-- to be awake. Virtue is a word used in religious circles with a nod towards chastity and "purity"-- the opposite of "sin", like that of Adam and Eve-- so Aziraphale seems to be dryly saying that, as an angel, he's supposed to be Virtue itself-- the epitome of virtuosity-- but he's more of the word's original definition of a human man... one who might supposed to be "ever-vigilant"-- always awake, so, euphemistically, never getting any wink wink sleep-- but they both know that's not true because, as we've learned, Crowley's gotten in the habit of getting his head down on frequent occasions.

Adding to the Adam and Eve/Fall of Man & "occasionally" meaning to fall theme is that they're prompted by Aziraphale using the idiom "evil never sleeps" as a joke about Crowley-- referencing Eve in there. Evil sounding phonetically like "Eve-il". Another, similar joke in which they are paralleling themselves to Adam & Eve is them going off to have lunch (and "lunch") at the end of 1.06, with Crowley referring to them going to have food and sex together by saying: "Time to leave The Garden. Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?"

So, anyway, the bit of the book that people use to justify the idea that Aziraphale doesn't sleep isn't really saying that he doesn't, imho, and there's nothing in the tv series that suggests that, either. Sleep-- and I'm just talking about sleep now here lol-- is obviously restorative and it can be peaceful. Technically, Aziraphale is correct that they don't "need" it. They could, theoretically, probably survive for all of eternity without ever sleeping a wink, etc.... but that's what they'd be doing-- just surviving. There's a big difference between living and just not dying. Being able to subsist without having something is not the same thing as not needing it.

What I think Crowley and Aziraphale have discovered in living on Earth for all this time is that their their human bodies like and need what other a lot of human bodies like and/or need. Even if they can, technically, survive without these things, they also realize that doing so is not actually healthy or pleasurable or really living. If they didn't have the capacity to need and enjoy living like humans, they wouldn't have human bodies. The things that exist for the humans and are necessary for them exist for them, too. Their bodies work better and they feel better when they breathe and eat and sleep and talk with one another. They need nature and art and companionship the same way that the humans do. Like some humans do, they both enjoy sex and feel romantic love. They could, technically, remain alive without all of these things but being alive is not the same thing as living.

Aziraphale knows that he needs to eat to feel healthy-- that food can affect how his mind and body feel and perform-- as much as he just enjoys eating. I think sleep might be the same thing for him. He struggles with it a lot in ways similar to any person who has been through traumatic events and has related mental health issues but I think he does try to sleep. I honestly cannot imagine being completely awake for over six millennia without a break from the world. Aziraphale is also an introvert so I think he might find the idea of taking a rest from people for awhile extra-appealing, even if he might have felt guilty about wanting to sometimes. I think he probably didn't sleep for the first couple of thousand years, though-- if he hadn't tried food until 2500 B.C., it's probably likely that he hadn't allowed himself to try to sleep prior to that either. He might have needed Crowley to show him how or at least help him give himself permission to try it at some point.

Aziraphale also likes to eat and drink and fuck and there's a certain threshold of those activities that, when crossed, requires at least a nap lol. There's also maybe just Crowley's sleeping habits as a potential suggestion of Aziraphale's. When Aziraphale comes back from Edinburgh in S2, Crowley tells him that he didn't sleep at all the prior night while Aziraphale was gone.

This is suggestive of what other things, like Lockdown, suggest, which is that Crowley has a human sleep routine, more or less. He can survive without a night's sleep probably better than any of us can but he does feel the effects of it if he doesn't sleep. So, this being who technically doesn't need sleep--or has been told to think such a thing is true, anyway-- knows he really does and goes to bed at night most nights the same way that we do. It's also healthy for him to at least try to do so. He has PTSD and an anxiety disorder-- he needs sleep to manage that, even if sleep is often the first thing to be disturbed by it, which is basically what Crowley says happened while Aziraphale was in Edinburgh. (How much of the reason why Crowley couldn't sleep was Gabriel-related anxiety and how much was Crowley having trouble sleeping without Aziraphale is debatable...)

So, if we go with the idea that Crowley basically lives in the bookshop at night until before dawn and that he has been doing that most nights for awhile now and if we add in that he also canonically sleeps for a bit at night each night, then Crowley goes to bed like a human at some point each night in the bookshop. It seems likely that Aziraphale goes to bed with him. They both would inevitably sleep better with one another nearby.

Aziraphale staying in that bed after Crowley leaves in the early morning, though, is probably another story. I tend to think that he struggles with the bed if Crowley's not there and will get up after he's gone and have tea or go to Give Me Coffee or do basically anything to try to distract himself from the misery of his Crowley-free mornings.

I'm sure what had him reject Crowley hunkering down during the lockdowns was just that he didn't think he could handle having Crowley there in the mornings, only to have to go back to him leaving after the lockdowns were over. I'm still not totally sure that they didn't actually wind up maybe doing that anyway-- at minimum, I think Crowley apparated over after the phone call, but I don't know that he stayed-- but, either way, this is why they just need to get to the South Downs Cottage, dammit.

Speaking of the bookshop, theories on what could be upstairs?

ooooo the BIG QUESTION.

so we can see a bit of the second floor in all these pics:

basically all we know for sure is there are A LOT MORE BOOKS, both stacked around the railing and on the circle of shelves. neil has decided not to comment on what else might be there (YET 👀) but he’s confirmed that much.

apart from that, we can see from the outside that there are six windows on the second floor:

i’m going to assume they’re part of the shop because they’re Very On Fire when the rest of the shop is on fire. SO. taking all that into account, you end up with something like this:

where the thin grey circle is the railing and the brown one is the bookshelves (as you can see in the first pic, it doesn’t circle all the way around!)

the rest is a complete mystery. i mean i’m sure the actual set was empty because they didn’t need to fill it, but in theory there’s room for some interesting stuff! with the first floor for scale i can imagine a whole flat built around that circle of shelves — a bed aziraphale never sleeps in, comfy chairs, every other angel knick-knack he’s encountered in his life. in my personal headcanon it’s all books and hoarded items covered in dust, which he leaves for authenticity.

thank you for asking!! i’d love to hear other people’s thoughts if they want to share :)

[ranpazz]

hahahaj

dazai nsfw below, we will get to ranpo later sbahajkw

do u think he's the type to fuck you in or on top of the car? getting back to this trope from my last ask too -- the wearing short and skimpy dresses. personally I feel he will be the kind to personally ask (or buy) you skimpy clothes like yk super short skirts and tops and stuff. I think he might be the kind to get off to it infront of u if you piss the guy off. pissing him usually means him getting jealous at literally anything. he doesn't get jealous but when he does, even the slightest thing can make him jealous.

he's sooo the type to talk to someone while u r under the seat sucking him off, like the window will be down just a bit so he can talk to whoever is outside.

wanna make him riled up? dress up in ribbons (I forgot what that's called) wear a robe/coat and get into his car and take pictures of yourself after discarding the robe/coat, take pictures with your legs spread on the backseat, straddle his seat and take a video of riding it. what's he gonna do? he's in another part of the country anyway.

..... except that dazai is a mysterious man, u dk how many connections he has and u always wonder how he has sm power. you think that now too as there are literally four or so guards escorting you to a flight to wherever he is and as you get into the hotel room he is staying at, you gulp. he's sitting there with a cigarette in his mouth, dark look over his eyes and the usual casualness or playfulness not even anywhere near him.

Oh IRAAAAA. YES HE IS.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!!

He's a man of needs after all, and how can he resist his pretty passenger princess? Seeing you walking around in those skimpy outfits —It's a bonus if you have a letterman jacket with his initials on it— your pretty face flashing him a smile anytime you see him? You're immediately guided to the backseat for a quickie before his race. Or if a parking lot happens to be empty, you're taking him on the hood of his car.

He isn't a particularly jealous man, but I think he'd be dramatic to play it off. If a guy is bold enough to approach you and ask for your number and socials, or perhaps getting a bit too touchy, he can't help himself. Dazai will easily intervene, whether it be him coming behind you and snaking his arms around your waist or straightforwardly telling the guy to fuck off if he's not feeling cheerful. Afterwards, when you think he'll let off steam by fucking you, you've never been more wrong. He's got you on your knees, taunting you by stroking his cock after he instructed you not to touch him. And God he loves seeing you desperately trying not to touch yourself, attempting to ignore the breathy exhales and whines he's letting out.

As for clothing, unlike ADA!Dazai, Illegalracer!Dazai has money. After winning so many races and crushing high ranking opponents, the pay is incredible. He won't hesitate to buy you any clothes you like, lingerie, accessories, anything you want, you've got it. However, you think it's only fair to pay him back. So while he's all the way in a different part of the country, he leaves his precious car all to you. So what's the harm in dressing up all pretty for him in your letterman, lingerie in his favorite color, and your legs spread in the backseat as you take pictures for him? Or sending a video of you toying with your clit in the driver's seat? Though, once they're sent you're merely left on read.

It only takes a few hours before you've got his personal guards escorting you to a private flight to Tokyo Bay — courtesy of your man himself — and much to your surprise, your led to a hotel room before the escorts leave you standing just in front of the door. you can practically feel Dazai's presence within the room, and now you're sweating bullets. Because the second you open that door, he's on the bed, manspreading with a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips as he stares you down like you're nothing but prey to him.

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 5 - Next

"This looks like a funeral home!"

You said, clapping, alarming Curly who had barely woken up about ten minutes ago. 

You started to open the curtains to let some light in and turned on the television, looking for a channel that plays music instead of news. 

You smiled when you found one with music you like and were ready to go prepare breakfast, but you almost fell from the shock when you saw Curly. 

"Hey-!... You got up on your own..." you mentioned, holding your chest. 

Curly: "Ah... Yes, I made coffee but... I couldn't serve it, it's still in the coffee maker... Do you do that every day?"

"...You have a very, very deep sleep, in case you didn't know..." 

You kept staring at him, not taking your eyes off him as you slowly walked to grab the coffee pot to pour the coffee into two cups. 

Curly: "What do you want to do today?"

You raised an eyebrow as you thought of a response. 

"There's an amusement park in the city, how does that sound?"

Curly: "Sounds good" he nodded. 

You gave him a smile and pushed him a little, making him lose his balance and have to hold onto the table to avoid falling. 

"Impossible, you're going to fall apart if we go there. We need to practice your walking and how to use your new limbs."

Curly: "What do you recommend then?" he asked, finally standing up with some difficulty. 

"Let's go for a jog!" She patted his back, ready to prepare something to add to breakfast. 

After eating, they both changed into clothes, some for training. 

Curly noticed how loose his clothes had become due to the loss of muscle. 

"Later I can adjust it if you like, is it very uncomfortable for you?" 

You approached him to check it. 

Curly: "I'm worried that my pants will fall down."

"Look how easy that is to fix" 

You went to get thread and a needle to make a hem on the waistband of the pants and you put a few stitches in the hem to make it snug. 

"Done, I'll adjust it properly another day, now let's go, let's go"

First, you took a drive to a less busy area; you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable with the attention of people passing by on the road. 

"It's great that you can stand up and walk, do you think it's okay to try climbing up to that sign?" 

Curly: "Or course. I can do it" 

"Oh, someone is enthusiastic?" 

You laughed and got ready next to him to start jogging, he lagged behind for a few seconds but then took a few steps. 

You quickly returned when you heard he had fallen to help him get back on his feet. 

You repeated that action several times, but you got worried when he fell and his face hit the ground directly. 

"Hey, maybe jogging was too ambitious, we can walk through the forest here." 

He stood up with your help, head down, annoyed for not being able to do something he used to do every day a while ago. 

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you? "Let me see" 

You slowly removed the mask he was wearing to check it, and they were startled by the scream of a child, just as a mother with her child was passing by. 

Curly immediately turned to the other side so the child wouldn't have to see it while the woman gestured apologetically, carrying her son and quickly leaving the place. 

"They're gone now" you said, patting his shoulder. 

Curly: "I know... That i must look really bad... "

"Hey, don't think too much about it, come on, let's take a walk to clear your mind, okay?"

You took the sleeve of his jacket to pull him with you, delving into the forest and walking along the already marked path. 

He stood there watching as you held onto his clothes, and saw the prosthesis, how crude it was in shape, being made only to be functional and not aesthetic. 

I would like to hold her hand... 

He thought while still focused on your hand, and you turned to look at him when his prosthetic touched your forearm, strangely it felt like a caress. 

When he realized what he had done, he got nervous. 

Curly: "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you." 

"No, no, no problem, I should have let you go. You must have felt really bad being pulled."

You said, smiling as you let go of his clothes, but that made him even more depressed. 

You continued walking until you felt a tug on your jacket, looking at the man in confusion. 

Curly: "...I have better balance if I hold onto you"

"Mm? Do you think you can keep up with me?"

You smiled with a hint of mischief as you walked slowly at first, and with each step, you increased your speed, making Curly follow you at the same pace, without letting go of your jacket. 

And within a few minutes, both were jogging in sync, your legs even moving in perfect harmony. 

You ran the entire forest trail until you returned to the starting point, both laughing, very excited about Curly's rapid progress. 

They took a break to drink some water and rest a bit, sitting on the hood of the car. 

Curly: "I missed this..." 

"Did you use to exercise a lot?"

Curly: "Yes, it was one of my hobbies, exercising, lifting weights, jogging, I had my own routine, it was nice."

"You were athletic too, mm, you sounded like the perfect man," you stretched before getting up.

He remained thinking about your words, sighing as he remembered that he would never be that man again.

Curly: "Yeah... someone cool, right?"

"Not for me. Routines aren't bad, but ugh they make me sick, perfect people, they seem like robots programmed to do the same thing until they die. Everything they do seems so good, they eat healthy, exercise, work, study, but it just ends up being a cycle because... they don't aspire to anything else, you know?" 

You shrugged as you opened the door of your car. 

"Because... what's the point of reaching the top if you're not going to keep climbing something higher?"

He felt that for a moment, his entire world had stopped; he could only hear the beating of his heart, and everything else was just silence. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but only a sigh escaped, lost in your silhouette before him, who only hoped you would get in the car so you could go home together. 

When you honked the horn, you brought him out of his trance. 

"Are you going to get in or are you going to run to home?" you asked, smiling. 

I knew well that you were capable of leaving it there, so he quickly climbed up next to your seat.

[tinylilacbun]

Could you do a JJ’s little sister fanfic where she gets hit by Luke and JJ comforts her and takes her to the chateau to get her away from it? She could be like 13 maybe

Daddy Issues

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, child abuse, Luke, bruises, swearing

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You squint your eyes shut as you try to close the front door quietly, praying to god that your father is dead asleep or passed out from drinking.

Peeking inside the living room you sigh in relief when he is nowhere to be seen only to squeak when you bump into a chest, looking up to face your father.

"You're late." He states, the smell of beer reaches your nose and you refrain from the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust.

"M-My phone died and I lost track of time." You stammer, cursing at yourself mentally for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he's scaring you.

"Uh-huh..." He trails off before his fist suddenly connects with your face, sending you on the ground from the inpact. "Care to explain why your goddamn school called me today 'cause you keep ditchin'?"

You cradle the side of your face, tears stinging in your eyes as you try to come up with an explanation only to flinch when he raises his hand again.

"If I get one more call I swear I'll give you a beating that you'll never forget." He seethes and when you don't give any acknowledgement he leans down to grab your face with one hand, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your skin. "Got it?"

"Y-Yes dad..." You answer, your voice shaking.

He let's go of you harshly, walking past you to get himself another beer and you quickly scramble off the floor to rush for your room, locking the door you press your forehead against it and let the tears finally flow.

Fun fact, the only times you don't go to school are the days you got another bruise from Luke, not wanting to keep explaining to your teachers where they're from and risking that CPS gives you a visit, knowing they would instantly take you and JJ into foster care and the chances that you both stay together is low.

You wouldn't know what to do without him. He's your big brother, the only person you can tell everything and see more as a father figure than Luke.

20 minutes later you're curled up on your bed, sobbing quietly into your pillow when a tapping on your window startles you, lifting your head to see JJ.

You force yourself to get up and walk over to the window, opening it for him to stumble through.

"Thanks...didn't wanna get caught by dad." He says, standing back straight he smoothes out his clothes, adjusting the cap on his head.

He doesn't notice what state you're in until you move back to your bed, getting a glimpse of your face from the lamp on your nightstand illuminating it.

His eyes widen as he approaches you. "Whoa, what happened." He asks, lifting his hand to grab your chin but when you flinch away he stops mid air, his jaw clenching the moment he realizes.

Luke. He's gonna kill him. He's gonna fucking-

JJ's thoughts are interrupted by you starting to sob, pulling you into a hug with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest. "Shh, I'm here now...I got you."

He just stands there with you for a while, not making any move to pull away, waiting for you to make the first move and when you do he pushes you gently to sit down on your bed.

Without saying anything he grabs one of your bags and shoves some clothes into it and any necessities he thinks you might need, then crouches down to pick up the teddy bear you had since you were a baby and shoves it in there as well before he stands back up.

"Let's go." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards your window.

You don't protest and climb over the window seal, your feet touching the ground again you watch JJ come out after you and shut the window quietly.

He grabs your hand again and leads you to his dirt bike, helping you sling the bag onto your back, climbing onto his bike first he waits for you to get on as well.

After you do, you wrap your arms around him tightly, your face pressing against his back. JJ revs his bike before taking off towards the Chateau, knowing you'll feel safer there.

Arriving at your second home JJ stops the others from greeting you, telling them you need a moment and taking you inside, placing his hands on your shoulders he leans down to meet your gaze.

His heart aches at the sight of the blooming bruise on your right eye, your eyes puffy and red rimmed from the crying. "Go take a shower, I'm waiting with the others outside, yea?"

You nod, making your way to the bathroom JJ sighs, walking back outside he grabs a beer can and cracks it open, taking a big sip.

"What's up with tiny maybank?" John b asks, his concern growing when JJ starts pacing, pulling the cap off his head angrily.

"Fucking Luke..." The blonde mutters. "He hit her man! He hit my baby sister!"

Everyone's eyes widen, protectiveness and anger flaring up in all of them. You're the youngest of the group, so of course they see you as their own little sibling and would do anything for you, just like JJ does.

"Why? What happened? Is she okay?" Kie asks concerned and JJ scoffs.

"No, she's not fucking okay, kie. She has a damn black eye 'cause of this piece of shit!" He snaps at her, too worked up to see that his friends are just as worried and upset as he is.

"Man, calm down, okay? We're trying to help." Pope tries to ease the tension.

"Right, right. I'm sorry- I just...fuck. I should've been there I..." JJ trails off, feeling tears build up in his eyes but pushing them back.

He knows how you feel, the feeling of not understanding how someone who's supposed to love and take care of you can hurt you like that without batting an eye.

JJ feels even worse for not being there to protect you, to stop his father from laying a hand on you.

He sits down on the ground near the crinkling fire, his arms braced on his knees when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking to his side to look at John b.

His best friend doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what he's thinking, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "It's not your fault, jay. We're here for you both."

JJ just nods, giving him a small smile. "I know. Thank you. All of you."

Everyone's attention goes to the Chateau when they hear the screen door being shut, seeing you coming towards them, freshly showered and dressed in an oversized shirt.

JJ instantly gets on his feet again, approaching you to pull you into another hug and you wrap your arms around him, holding onto his shirt tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I-"

"S'okay..." You whisper, already feeling a lot better being in the presence of your real family. "I love you, jay..."

"I love you too, kid." He whispers back, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead. "More than anything.

You smile at him, the throbbing pain from your bruised eye slowly fading as you turn to look at the others. "Hey guys..."

"C'mon, sit with us, sweetie." Sarah pats the places next to her and you go to sit beside her, letting her wrap an arm around you.

The moment everyone gets settled again the usual banter and laughter kills the built up tension in the air, JJ keeping an eye on you the whole time to make sure you're alright.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[iloveelvisss]

Lovestruck (an Elvis fic/imagine)

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Reader

Summary: It’s 1975 and Linda has rejected Elvis’ proposal, leaving him drug dependent. Worried and frustrated, his family and Linda get an in-home nurse to get him back on track with his health. But what happens when Elvis mistakes her kindness for love?

Warnings/Triggers: this is a yandere fic so expect dark themes such as, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed behavior. Elvis is delusional. References to sex and baby making. Forced marriage, and slight kidnapping? References to the colonel.

Priscilla left. And Elvis believed he was heartbroken, keyword: believed. And he sulked and sulked and sulked for weeks.

But then Linda came around. He was convinced he was in love with her, letting her move in and redecorate his house and make friends with his baby daughter. He even thought about proposing. But she said she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted.

And while she was a good distraction at first, when she rejected his proposal, the drugs became more of a distraction to him. And he made it okay by telling himself that drugs couldn't tell him no.

And that's how it went for the longest time. But people were worried. His family was worried— even baby Lisa knew something was up with her daddy.

So Linda, armed with everyone else's concern, took matters into her own hands. She called so many doctors and rehabilitation centers, and eventually she got a nurse to agree to live in at Graceland to try and get him off all the pills.

•

You walk into the grand house, following the gorgeous woman. She's sweet, has a good character and you can tell from just talking the few words you have.

The house looks different from the pictures that were once in the pages of a tabloid, with Elvis on the couch with a guitar. Back then the house was light, with royal blues and whites, but now it was like a vampire's lair— all red and gold.

"I just want to say thank you. We've tried to get him to go to rehab, but he refuses every time."

You smile sweetly at Linda. This is the first job that could actually mean something for you, and you feel as though you should be the one saying thank you. Before this opportunity, you were prescribing solutions to trust fund teens in California who got ahold of drugs at their high school parties. It was a good job, but you wanted more— you went to school for more. You felt as though your talents could be put to better use, and this was that breakthrough you were looking for since you graduated college.

"No, this is an honor, seriously. And sometimes it's better for people of his caliber to be kept away from prying eyes in times like these. Going to a center would put him at more of a risk for a press leak." You sit down with her as you make it to the living room, and there you find Elvis' father as well. He stands and shakes your hand.

You sit with them and talk about plans and the goals they have for his recovery, and all the while, you're stuck wondering why the man himself isn't here. This is a meeting about his health, after all. But they don't mention it, so you don't either.

And once they're satisfied with everything, Linda shows you to what's going to be your room for the next however many months.

An hour later, you go down to dinner, not expecting Elvis because Linda informed you that he usually took his dinner in his room nowadays. But to everyone's surprise, about halfway into the meal, the stairs creak, and almost immediately his presence engulfs you. Your eyes widen and you instantly stand up, still not quite believing that you're in the same room as your favorite singer.

His eyes scan the room before they zero in on you; it takes your breath away completely. And because of the nerves wracking your body, you give him the most awkward smile ever, mentally scolding yourself for being so stupid. He's human just like you. That's what you repeat to yourself over and over as he slowly stalks over to you from around the table.

Everyone— the few members of the Memphis mafia that decided to stay for dinner, Linda, Vernon, the cook who was plating the food— all stare with bated breath, all of them knowing how Elvis feels about rehab. He doesn't believe he has a problem. "Well what do we have here, hm? Ya sneak through the gate, honey?"

It takes you a minute to shake yourself from your trance, but once you do you shake your head. You're acting like a little girl that's seeing Santa Claus for the first time. "N- no, sir... pardon me, my name is Y/N," you stick your hand out for him to shake, "I'm your new nurse."

Linda winces and you shoot her a confused look. She expected him to blow up, or for his jaw to tick, or for him to say something snide— anything other than the gentle smile that graces his lips. He takes your hand and places a kiss on the back. Vernon clears his throat awkwardly. What is happening, you wonder to yourself. Everyone is acting like they're at a funeral. Except Elvis. He's acting like he got the latest Cadillac model.

Bless Linda's poor heart, and the fact that she can tell you innocently have no clue what the look in her boyfriend's eyes is. If she were anyone else, she'd want to tear your hair out. But she keeps quiet, just grateful that he's taking the news well. "Well I'll be damned, I didn't know I was sick. Honey, am I sick?" His eyes turn to Linda— only for a split second before they're piercing into you again. Is this love at first sight... because it sure seems like it to Elvis. He had to talk to all the other girls for at least a day before he felt something. Linda bats her eyelashes, "it's just in case, E, that's all. Gotta have ya perfect for the stage, yeah?"

He hums, and then finally lets your hand go. He gestures to your chair and then sits at the head of the table that's conveniently beside you. "Welcome then, Y/N."

You smile, this time a lot more gracefully, and then sit like he did. "Well why y'all starin' like dummies? Eat." He instructs everyone at the table, and like little minions, they all obey.

But he talks to you. About everything under the sun. And during such a time, you both come to an agreement on what he needs to do differently in order to maintain his health. A nice and easy regiment that should keep him from facing very terrible withdrawals. He seems to like you, or maybe he's just a really nice guy, but either way, you decide you're going to really enjoy staying here.

Weeks pass much the same. You like being friends with Elvis, and you realize that he's extremely humble and down to earth, not at all like the negative press he gets. You get a solid routine down; once a day, you give him a checkup, and you also lessen his pill intake everyday until he's down to strictly only what he actually needs. And much to the Colonel's dismay— a man you deemed icky the first time you met him— Elvis fires Dr. Nick and takes on a doctor you personally recommend.

•

Elvis knew this time. And despite his earlier feelings, he was mentally thanking Linda for rejecting him. And whether or not you liked it, you were going to be his.

You were his guardian Angel. That had to be it. You were saving his life. Of course he had a problem, and now he knew it. You were sent to him by God and were there to save him. He knew it. He knew that had to be the truth. Why else would you be so willing to better such a man?

Oh, and the way you smiled at him. The way your eyes lingered on him. The way you so very clearly wanted to be his. He wasn't blind, and the way you always looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes, that had to be you pleading for him to take you away— make you his. And once he knew for sure his plan would work, he'd do just that. He'd save you just the same way you saved him. And you'd be together, like you both wanted. Forever.

His hands would linger. When you'd check his blood pressure and breathing, he'd put his hand on your shoulder. And you never told him no, you never pushed him away. And he knew signs when they were given— you were definitely giving him signs.

There was this language between the two of you, a silent pining. He knew it. 'Just a while longer, angel. We'll be together.' It was a mantra inside his head every second of every day.

Four months into your residency as Elvis liked to call it, and fours months of mutual pining, Elvis knew it was time. He put his plan into action. You came home from the pharmacy to see bags in the foyer— your bags. With tears in your eyes, you walked up the stairs, "Elvis? Hello?"

You paused as he walked out of his room, looking the picture of health and happiness. He could see the confusion written all over your face. He was about to explain when you cut him off. "M' fired? Ya want me to leave?"

And then he saw resolution mix in with the emotions filling your face. You dry your tears. "Well thank you for the opportunity. It was great, and I hope I helped you well enough, Mr. Presley." You seemed almost fine with the idea, just a little beaten up about losing a job. But he knew better, you were playing hard to get.

"Mr. Presley? Baby, don't call me that, Mr. Presley is my daddy. Can't ya tell? We're goin' away... you and me." He grabbed your hand, a smile painting his face.

And there was that confusion again, and if he weren't so crazy, he'd also see that the look he thought was love was actually a little bit of fear. He'd been extra touchy and sweet, but you thought that was just the type of person he was. But now you could tell that he was just rather crazy. What did he mean going away? You were his nurse. "What're you talking about, Elvis?"

"C'mon, darlin' let's not dance around this no more. I see the way ya look at me— we're in love." He grins wolfishly, his grip tightening. He looks down at your lips.

You shake your head slowly, your eyes widening. You take a step back, looking behind you for any sign of anyone else, but it's then that you realize the house is eerily silent except for the two of you. He pulls you back, your face making contact with his chest. His free hand tangles into your hair and tilts your face so you can look at him. "Angel, I know moving away seems scary, but we can be together. We can start that life we both want, hm? I know ya feel the same, ya don't gotta say it right now."

And you can't even say anything or even try and run because he's got you thrown over his shoulder and in his car within minutes. He buckles you in and gets in the drivers seat after instructing Sonny to load your stuff into another car and to meet him at the airport.

He looks at you from the rear view mirror with a crazed smirk, one he thinks is harmless and loving. "How's Vegas sound, angel? We can get married in a chapel and ya can watch my shows every night, and we'll make Lisa Marie a big sister. I can tell yer beggin' for me to make ya a mama," his fingers drum on the steering wheel as he speeds through Memphis to the airport, "Oh yeah, I can see it now. Ya won't leave the bed for months after we get hitched. And I'll make this one last 'cause yer my soulmate. I was a dumb sonofabitch for thinkin' it was Cilla."

And as you stare at him through the mirror, tears fighting to fall from your eyes, you realize that this is one situation you don't think you can get out of. You screwed up.

Heyyy lovies! So I wrote this today because I wanted to read a fic like this but I couldn’t find one, so I just wrote it myself. First time writing darker themes, so bear with me if it’s not that good. Enjoy anyway, or at least I hope. Much love❣️ (I also just wanted an excuse to use that picture because he looks so scrumptious in it).

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 8/?)

112 ac

Your Pov

It's the day of Mama's funeral. I try not to cry again as I sit in the bath as my maid wash hair. 

“What oils would you like today, Princess? Your usual jasmine?” Orchid asks already reaching for the oil bottle ready to pour it in the tub and my hair.

But instead, I stop her and think about Mama's calming scent and Ali's vanilla scent, or at least that's what she calls it.

“What was Mama's oil?” I ask and I see the flash of sadness cross Orchid's face before she smiles and grabs another bottle. 

“Lavender, the late Queen loved Lavender.” She says filling the dropper before letting the oil drip into my bath and hair.

“Can I have vanilla too? Or would that smell bad?” I ask curiously before biting my lip nervously.

“Lavender and vanilla would be lovely together, Princess.” Orchid says before reaching for the small vial of vanilla oils.

Once she has them both in the bath and my hair I feel safe, like a warm hug, like I can breathe again. I start to cry again but Orchid acts like she doesn't notice, most of the maids act like they don't notice. I don't understand why, why can't they wipe my tears like Kepus and Ali do? Why can't they hold me so close like Kepus and Ali do? They hold me so tight it's hard to breathe but I can feel their hearts beating feel they're alive feel they're here.

But what confuses me the most is why Mama had to leave me? She promised after this baby was born she would play with me finally, that she would come to my leasons and see how smart I'm getting. But now she can't do that, because she's gone forever. 

Everyone keeps saying that, but they won't tell me how long forever is, only that it is forever. It doesn't make sense, I just want to know when I can see my Mama again when she'll be back to play and see how smart I am. 

“All done, Princess.” Orchid says wiping my face of the water from the bath, but from her frown I can tell she was also wiping my tears. 

I stand in the bath and use my step stool to get out so she can wrap me in a warm towel that always feels warm against my skin because she rests it next to the fire, and smells of something woodsy. 

I'm quickly dried and dressed in a black dress. Put on thick wool stockings as it's chilly today and my hair braided so it's a crown upon my head. Orchid helps me put on my bracelet and necklace from Kepus like always before someone knocks on the door.

“Come!” I call out rubbing my already raw and painful eyes. I then look down in case it's Papa, he seems to not be able to look at me anymore. I don't understand why though I haven’t done anything wrong. 

“Ñuha riña, it's time to go.” I hear Kepus say.

Not Papa, I don't have to hide my face. 

I turn and look up and see him frown at how bloody my lips and how red my eyes are. 

“Can't I wear red, it's a much prettier color than black.” I say frowning

This seems to make him happy as he chuckles with a shake of his head before he kneels down so he can hold my hands in his. My hands always seem so small when he holds them, not like the big girl hands I like to think they are. “No, I'm afraid not ñuha riña. Black, is traditional mourning colors you will be wearing them for a while yet.” He says inspecting my hair to see how well done it is.

“I did it today, M'lord.” Orchid says from her spot behind me with her head down.

Kepus made sure to tell Orchid only she and him can do my hair now, maybe the ‘little Hightower’ but I don't know who that would be. 

“I figured as much, it's not in her eyes.” He responds with a nod to my maids before picking me up and walking out of my room.

Once in the carriage I see Nyra who is glaring at me as usual but this time it sends chills down my spine. Had I done something? And then I see Papa next to her and he won't look at me, as if doing so brings him pain. I must have done something bad, but what?

The ride is quiet, almost suffocatingly so, so I feel I need to break it. 

“When will me and Nyra know when to tell Syrax and Stromchaser to dracarys?” I ask Papa but when he doesn’t answer I turn to look up at Kepus instead.

“I’ll count down from five, once I say zero you two command them to light the pyre.” He says glaring at Papa or some reason.

I only nod and look out the window watching as the smallfolk cry for Mama. They miss her too, hopefully their Mama’s aren’t goen too. 

When we make it to Rhaeny’s hill Kepus picks me up again and whispers to me “it’s quite steep, ñuha riña, don’t you tripping and getting hurt.” 

I feel the wind against my back, it makes me shiver as I cling to Kepus hoping he'll keep the cold away. Once we make it to the top of the hill he sets me down on my feet. He lets me cling to his leg as the Valyrian priest chants.

I try and ignore them as I look at Mama and baby Baelon, they're wrapped in a brown cloth so tight I can see the outline of Mama's arms, legs, and belly. Her belly looks weird but I ignore it as it's probably because she's dead. 

Once the priest is done and walks away I let go of Kepus and walk forward with Nyra. 

“It's time girls, are you ready ñuha riña?” Kepus says standing between us.

I want to scream ‘NO’ but I know that I must, that Mama and Baelon must be ‘put to rest’ or at least that's what Ali said. So instead I nod my head as I wipe my tears.

Kepus looks between us one last time before sighing and nodding his head, a lmost like he's defeated. 

“Five.”

I gasp realizing I'm never going to be ready this, to let Mama go. At least before I had to turn her to ash in the wind I could pretend she was just on a long trip, that she wasn't gone that she was only seeing her family in the Vale.

“Four.”

I feel my heart clench, feel it about beat out of my chest. It's painful, it hurts, but not as much as when I burn Mama away.

“Three.”

I can't breathe, why can't I breathe? I can feel my heart practically beat out of my chest. I feel my lungs constrict so I can only take in small gasps of air.

“Two.” 

I feel Kepus rest his hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze. I still can't breathe, still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but for some reason, it's all getting easier to deal with.

“One.” 

I hear Stromchaser let out a cry of pain, Kepus says they feel our emotions, our pain, I have to stay calm for Stromchaser. But I can't I can't calm down, I'm losing Mama forever.

“Now.” 

I figured out what forever means, and all it took was me screaming with Nyra, commanding our dragons to make Mama and Baelon ash in the wind. Make them gone forever.

Once Stromchaser and Syrax stop their flames I turn to Kepus leaping into his arms and sobbing. Sobbing that I'll never get to see Mama again and play in the gardens with her. Sobbing because I'll never get to meet my baby brother. Sobbing that Mama and Baelon are gone forever.

Daemons Pov

I stand leaning against the Weirwood tree waiting for that blasted Dornish man, Cole. 

I knew after that fucking Sarwyck lost in the first round you needed a better guard. Though my pride was hurt I can't deny that Cole proved himself, that he would be the perfect guard for you. 

I remember the look of hos face when I grabbed him after, it was a look of horror, of fear of what the Prince of the city would do to him. Instead I only whispered one thing.

“Meet me at the Weorwood tree in a week's time at the hour of the wolf.” 

He quickly agreed of course but now I'm wondering if I should have threatened him instead of letting him go on his merry way. 

I hear a twig snap under someone's foot and turn to see him. He seems to have rushed here if the sweat on his brow is any indicator.

Must have realized he was almost late. I think with a cruel smirk. 

“You wished to see me, my Prince?” He says winded and bent over with his hands on his knees catching his breath.

“I have an offer for you, though if you take it you'll answer to me and no one else.” I say standing straight and walking towards him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“You took down one of my Gold Cloaks, he was in charge of the care and well-being of the youngest Princess. Can't have someone who can't even beat a stewards son protect my sweet little niece, now can I?” I say in a calm voice that has always led men to do as I please, even my brother, the King. 

“And what does that have to do with me?” He asks standing straight again hands behind his back.

I know that stance, I know it well. 

“You're a soldier aren't you.” I say but it was rhetorical

“Yes, my Prince.” He responds curtly but I catch the scowl that he was read so easily.

Oh just you wait, Ser Cole, you'll learn to hide everything in this pit of vipers soon.

“If I could make it where you have a very high chance of becoming a Kingsguard, would you?” 

He seems shocked from the way his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I can't fight the chuckle that leaves me, nor would I want to. 

“It would be an honor, my Prince. But why would they choose a stewards son over a lord's son who has also been to war?” He asks, curious and skeptical to this offer.

“And what I'd I said they wouldn't be others who have gone to war?” 

He freezes for all of ten seconds before a smile comes to his face. “And what would you need from me? Of course after you give me such a high ranking at court you will want something in return?” 

I stop and look at him surprised. Most who are not from Kingslanding would have taken this chance by now, I can't tell if I'm proud, annoyed, or impressed. I think before responding.

“You see, I noticed something about our match. I had my blade to your throat, I let you live, and yet at the first chance you got back up and made sure I'd be the one to yield.” I say smiling when he starts to shift uncomfortably.

“It was a fair fight, you know it just as much as I.”

“Never said it wasn't, you never said you yielded, so by all rights you could, and did get back up to continue to fight.” I say smirking when I see the tension leave his shoulders.

“That still doesn't explain why you need me.” He says obviously getting annoyed.

“It's simple, I want- no I need a man who will use suck ‘dirty’ tactics when defending my niece. If I was to help you, you will defend the youngest, the Realms Darling they call her.”  

“Why her and not the eldest?” He asks confused.

“Rhaenyra has at least three guards at her demand, none are truly hers but they may as well be. The youngest…well she has only had the spares or the ones I give to her. I wish for her to have one I know I can trust. One that will give me the information I desire, when I desire it.” 

He seems to contemplate his options, though before he even says it, I know what he'll do.

“I'll do it.” 

I can't fight the smirk that comes to my face as I shake his hand, a symbol of a good deal. 

Once he's out of my sight I look down at the gold cloak against my back.

Fuck I could use a drink and a whore. I think before walking towards the most depraved parts of the city looking for a night to forget all I've lost, if only for one night.

Viserys Pov

After that ‘talk’ with my small council and the very long day I've had I knew when my head hit my pillow I'd be asleep. 

All I saw for a while was darkness, I figured it was because I was still awake but then I saw a light far away and knew what was going on.

Not this blasted dream again! I thought as I stormed forward knowing what I'd find.

The throne room was dark, not a candle lit on the walls, but there was fourteen candles lit in front of the iron throne. They always seemed to dance, I swore if I moved closer I would hear the sounds of childlike giggles. Most are on their own, standing on their own candle sticks, but three have two prongs with two candles on the stand. 

It's all the same, even those damned faces are still blurry! I think ready to turn around until I hear the booming voice of my Grandsire.

“You will stay, boy!” I feel my bones rattle just from the sheer force my Grandsire has spoken to me.

I now don't feel like a King, I feel like a little boy again being scolded for trying to steal a sweet…again.

“Why do you bring me here Grandsire? You have made me come to this room with its candles every night ever since my dear wife has passed! Well before that I was having this dream once a moon!” I cried out looking up and around me searching for my Grandsire.

“It is not our fault you are not Brave son. That you will not face what you already know.” I then hear my Father, the one man I always wished I could be, but Daemon has always been more like him than I'll ever be.

“What is there to see? Fourteen candles, two blurry faces on the throne? I've seen it! I understand I must have a son to put on the throne!” I sob out feeling their disappointment, their regret, knowing I'm far from the monarch they wished from me.

“Have you thought that perhaps if you moved closer the faces would be clear? Or are you that daft Viserys?” I hear their voice now combine, hear my fathers furious tone mixed with my Grandsires disappointment.

I shake my head but still listen to their advice. As I move forward I begin to hear the sounds of a woman giggling at something a man had said. Another step, and I can make out the woman's curls and theans long straight hair. One more and I see a gorgeous woman on my brother's lap, though it is not him that wears my crown but her.

The two of them stop their chatter, my brother is the first to turn to look at me.

“How lovely for you to finally join us dear brother, I was beginning to wonder if you ever would.” I teases with that smirk of hos that always make me want to punch him right in the lip. 

That'll show him who's older still. I think with a smile before I leaves me and a pained gasp leaves me.

The woman has turned her head to look at me, I would have never recognized her if it weren't for those eyes. One of Lavender and one of Ice Blue, the ones I can not look at, the ones who only bring me pain.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” You say but it is not your little voice, it is a woman's voice.

I wake with a gasp before turning and letting my dinner meet my chambers floor.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” Those words keep running through my head as I try to catch my breath.

I have, haven't I?

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic, I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff

[universalzones]

"Though from what I know you concealed Belle's creator besides a select few, and I believe given how different her design is only someone used to fighting Badniks could put together who she was made by. In that sense, the mole either has to be one of the volunteer soldiers that's been here a while, or someone in the inner circle." Blaze was more concerned why go after Belle. She's never been seen with Eggman, or his forces. As far as they're concerned she's just an advanced robot living her life.

"I have doubts they'd take it that far, if only because did warn Lupus that attack me is like declaring war against the Sol Empire." It was a scare tactic, though an effective one as she was sure he mentioned it to the president. "If we have too I can simply move Belle, Surge, and Kitsunami to the Sol Dimension and bring them back some place else."

"I don't think Surge or Kitsunami would like that idea very much. I'm not opposed to it, even if I don't want to runway and stand my ground I'm sure that'd be a good idea. Though perhaps convincing them to leave me alone would be better in the long run." Belle was only offering her ideas as she entered the room right after Sonic. The tinkerer didn't want GUN breathing down her neck for the rest of her life.

Rowan would walk back in, looking a bit annoyed. "You know, you could've just asked me to leave for a second to talk to her. I've never moved at high speeds and nearly threw up my lunch." The lemur guessed he was being pushy, though was also trying not to come off too strong. Guess he needs to work on that a bit more, though there are certainly a lot of people her now.

A moment later Kitsunami would walk in, not saying a word to anyone before finding a chair and sitting down. The fennec never expected Surge to be here, sure she was out by the check point as a warning for GUN not to try anything. The tenrec wants him to keep the inside of the base safe so that's what he's going to do. Only intending to assist her if she calls him.

Lanolin knew that Rowan would want to fight back and play dirty at that. He just seemed the sort to not want to bend a knew no matter what happened. He'd fight because it was in his nature to do so. But this wasn't the sort of battle you won by trying to blackmail the enemy, especially when you were effectively at gun point. This was a political battle, and one where you needed the hearts and minds of the people on your side. They wouldn't get any of that if they opted for blackmail!

" They aren't even wrong... We did harbor 2 criminals and Belle despite her unique situation was still made by eggman even if we all believe Tinker wasn't eggman... the courts may not see it that way. We can't win this battle with force... "

She sighed softly

" As for Rowan's information... it isn't bad to have, but i don't think now is a good time to employ it. They could just decide to nuke us off the map rather then let us say anything. We have to play our hand smart..."

She admitted as the Door to the command center swung Open to let rowan leave, Sonic and Belle had only just arrived. With The Chaotix running up the stairs, poor Vector huffing and puffing as he struggled to get up the many flights. Little Charmy trying to push him up from behind and Espio as stoic as ever shaking his head disappointedly.

" Well people are arriving, what we think wont matter its what we decide as a team... i wish Amy was here... i could really use her advice right now... or Whisper... but i know whisper and Tangle are probably both still in the infirmary..."

Sonic only left Belle's side when he was sure she was steady and zipped up onto a console and sat there. Having missed most of Lanolin's speech he didn't know what was going down just yet. Lanolin didn't seem keen on speaking till everyone was there.

" don't count on Surge, she's not gonna come... she's with the troops at the checkpoint... doubt anything could change her mind right now..."

" Of course not... of all the times for her to not show--- We'll cross that road when we get there. Just sit tight for the others... we have alot to talk about... and i need everyone present for it "

[honeyjars-sims]

3.40 This is Where I'll Be

Paul and I got approved for the townhouse, which is just in time since the process of selling their house went a lot faster than my dads were expecting. They were lucky to find a house in Del Sol that was just the right size for them–and all of Dad’s wigs. Before we knew it, we were packing up our lives into boxes and preparing to leave the family home forever.

Moving day comes quickly and the three of us get to work clearing things out. Once the last of the boxes are taken out I stop to look at the empty space. I'm a little taken aback by how harsh and cold it looks without the furnishings.

It's all concrete and metal, and it's apparent now that the house was just a vessel for what my parents put into it–not just furniture and decorations, but comfort and security and love. Lots of love. Still, I can't help but tear up at the sight of it without all of our belongings inside.

Pops puts his arm around me. 

“This is the first place I ever felt safe,” I tell him, a lump rising in my throat.

“It's not the house that made you feel that way,” he replies.

“Yeah, I know. I just have so many good memories of this place.”

Dad is standing on the other side of me. “So do we,” he says. “One day you'll make a home with someone and you’ll fill it with memories of your own.”

My mind begins to fill with images of my future home–I can see children lounging on the couch with thick blankets…maybe they're reading their favorite books or playing video games. The smell of frying pancakes, fresh berries, and maple syrup wafts through the air. We’ll all sit down for breakfast, and the kids will feel the comfort, security and love of their parents. I smile.

Pops, Dad and I are all huddled close. I’m afraid I’ll start crying for real. “Okay, you guys can let go of me now.”

“We’ll never let you go,” Dad coos while tousling my hair.

Pops kisses my cheek. “You’ll always be our little pookie-wookie.”

Once my dads decide to stop annoying me we make our way to the moving van, walking away from what was once our home for the last time. But I don't feel like I'm walking away from anything really–more like I'm walking towards my future. Towards my own family, my own home. Maybe not right now, but I'm on my way.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[spikyiwaizumi]

It’s a perfect morning for a hike.

The chill dusts Yaku’s nose as a soft winter kiss, his hot breathing tearing up his throat as he pushed onwards.

His thighs strain with pleasant effort, the slope harsh and unforgiving under his well broken-in boots, a stone breaking free of the thin, frozen layer of snow to bounce down behind him. They're all familiar sensations, worn into his skin almost as deeply as the court.

With one difference.

A gasp heaves behind Yaku. He turns back to his companion, who is bent over, hands on his knees.

“Wow, you really have left yourself go, huh?”

“Shut —“ here one of Kuroo’s hands lifts weakly, flagging his words. “— the fuck —“

“I’m waiting.”

“Up.”

The last line is delivered with a laboured expulsion of breath. Kuroo’s hand drops back to his knee, his gulping of air audible to even where Yaku is standing. He grins.

Kuroo had always been a single step faster than him in high school, and even in the early years of university he could hold his own; it’s nice to get the upper hand for once.

Yet something needles at Yaku; a slight twinge in his knee. A reminder that he, too, is getting older.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo continues, straightening up. “That I can’t keep up with an Olympian while having an actual career.”

An actual career, huh?

Kuroo probably hadn’t meant it like that, but Yaku becomes aware of a pit in his gut, one that had been growing since he hit thirty. It seemed to swallow good moments with the overwhelming knowledge of time, and Yaku hadn’t adjusted to it yet.

“Your career is literally making my career a viable thing.”

“Semantics.”

"I don't think you know what that word means."

"I don't think you know either."

Yaku flips up his middle finger at him, and Kuroo cracks a grin, trudging up alongside Yaku.

“I’m good to go for a while longer.”

“I can carry you, if you’d like.”

The answering glare that Kuroo gives him makes Yaku grin again, the movement of his cheeks feeling welcome, as if dislodging a layer of frost.

The camera shutter noise rings out alone in the deserted, slumbering mountains.

“Shame Kai couldn’t see this,” Yaku mentions as he sends the photo to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s devastated,” Kuroo says. “Being flown in to Australia to consult on Japanese flora there instead of waking up at an obscene hour for a hike must be so awful for him.”

“His girlfriend got a ticket too, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “Well, fiancé now. He had a plus one, and I can't believe that he brought his fiancé instead of say, one of his best friends of…”

He scrunches his brows, hesitating. Yaku wants to laugh.

“Don’t strain your—“

“Eighteen years!”

“There you go,” Yaku says encouragingly, and Kuroo shoots him a death glare.

“Don’t pretend that you were any better at me at math.”

Sticking out his tongue, Yaku winks at him. "At least I'm not the one who called Akaashi at two in the morning, crying over his project finance homework."

"He told you that?! And I wasn't crying, just on the verge of tears -"

"Like that's any better."

It works, as it always had. Kuroo doesn't notice Yaku speeding up, doesn't notice how they move faster when sunk into arguing. Maybe he does, and chooses to say nothing.

The sunrise is a haze of orange and pink, and Yaku thinks that it looks beautiful. It shines against the snow-patched hillsides, throwing up brilliant glares as it spreads across the mountains, claiming them for the morning. Here and there, a grey cluster of rocks emerge from the snow, as if waking up.

He glances across at Kuroo. Kuroo, who had agreed to take a day off of the work he loved so dearly to join Yaku at ass o’clock in the morning to clamber up a mountain to catch a sunrise.

He’d sounded tired on the phone when Yaku had called, just at the end of his workday, just long enough for Kuroo to run into his boss’ office and tell him that he needed the day tomorrow — yes, he apologised for the short notice, yes, he had everything in order — and then returning to Yaku to curse him out for forcing him to do that.

Yaku had asked why he wasn’t the boss yet, how come his career was flatlining, and Kuroo’s swearing at him had increased at a rate Yaku hadn’t thought possible before.

Yet he’s here.

“I missed this,” Yaku says.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees. His tone is a little wistful, softened by the sight in front of them. “I can’t remember the last time I went hiking.”

He's here, with his hands set on his hips, his chest driving out with each hard breath. There's unmistakable satisfaction in the curl of his lips.

“Better than lazing about on the beach, huh?” Yaku comments, moving closer to elbow Kuroo in the side. “Glad to hear you’ve seen the light.”

“Hey, that was not me saying that mountains are better.”

“Not yet.”

Yaku grins up at him, and he sees the edges of Kuroo’s lips curve upwards in response, despite trying to cling onto the mask of annoyance. His gaze wanders upwards, over Kuroo’s rough cheeks, a day’s worth of black stubble sprouting up, to the almost invisible scar on his cheekbone left from one of Fukunaga’s “inventions,” to rest on the grey bags beneath his eyes.

Cradled in the delicate glow of the sunrise, Tetsurou feels familiar and strange, all at once.

The pit stretches its muscles inside Yaku’s gut again, the pit that consumes his friends’ lives and leaves men in their places that Yaku only half-knows. His absence had been a choice.

He doesn’t regret it, but he acknowledges the painful consequences.

Swallowing, he turns back to the sunrise, and thinks he feels a wave of warmth from it. Kuroo is still a bachelor. Yaku has waited over a decade, expecting him to be one of those consequences, one that he paid the moment he chose to pursue volleyball professionally. He wets his dry, cracked lips, and glances up at Kuroo again.

Kuroo’s face is awash with an orange tint, and there are folds Yaku doesn’t recognise, smile lines faded into his skin, his bone structure just a fraction more prominent than before. Yaku wants to relearn all of it — maybe even better than before. His eyes are creased up in the way they always did when he was considering something; his tongue working within his mouth.

“I’d have brought you here sooner if I knew this is what made you speechless,” he says, and Kuroo’s removed, thoughtful expression vanishes. It's replaced by a flicker of a fondness, a momentary splinter before his usual laid-back expression settles in.

Instead of a snarky retort, Kuroo only leans his forearm on Yaku’s shoulder. He's heavy. Yaku can feel his body heat, revved up from the walk, radiating against his side.

“You’d get bored without my quick wit,” Kuroo proclaims. “We can't ever go to a mountain peak at sunrise again. Only beaches from now on, I think.”

He flashes a smile down at Yaku, and Yaku, after climbing up a tough trail for two hours, now, only now, feels woozy. He wasn’t a stranger to how Kuroo makes him feel. He’d been ignoring it for years.

Consequences.

Yaku looks down at Kuroo’s hand, jutting past his shoulder, dangling in the air. He’d stripped off his gloves at some point during their hike, and the tips of his fingers are tinged with a dusty pink, just visible through the brown. They’re lined. Yaku thinks of Kuroo telling him how his last relationship didn’t work out, that they wanted different things.

For the first time in a long time, Yaku stares at a Japanese sunrise and thinks of coming home.

Bending his elbow, he reaches up and takes Kuroo’s warm hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Beside him, Kuroo shifts his weight; taking more off of Yaku.

One last time, Yaku upturns his face to meet Kuroo’s gaze. His whole body is buzzing with the risk he’d just taken, but Kuroo’s steady eye contact grounds him; reminds him that they’d be alright, no matter what.

He inhales the crisp air, tasting a new day.

Waits.

“You’re serious?”

Kuroo’s voice is low, stripped of all and any teasing edge.

Yaku nods.

“I’m serious.”

[universalzones]

"Since you're so obsessed with freedom how about you give me the freedom to do what I want with my life. If it involved turning myself over to GUN then I'm going to do it." Surge had data that Sonic had always pushed for freedom, though seeing it in actions made it came of as some sort of obsession, at least to her. "Besides, I gotta clear Kit. I get arrested, tell them Kit had nothing to do with the town attacks or anything, and you back that up. Hard to deny two people saying the same thing."

"I personally don't know much about GUN, though if this is how they normally act then I agree with Sonic," Belle said, which earned her a death glare from Surge making her take a step back. "Though I completely respect your choice and have nothing else to say." The tinkerer doubt she could even say anything to convince the tenrec anyway. Though her attention went to the speakers along with the other speedsters. Why did she get the feeling this wouldn't stop Surge?

"I ain't going, so you can have fun. I'm going to dash my happy ass over to the check point and stand right in front of it. Dare them to attack and see what happens. They want to be all big and threatening let's see if they can handle someone like me staring at them right in the face." Surge then dashed off, kicking up a fair amount of dust as she did so.

Belle was quick to stand in front of Sonic. "Please, don't chase after her. It sounds like she isn't going to attack them first, and it's not the worse idea. If they're only on standby until Lanolin gives the word we're standing down then they shouldn't attack Surge. Having her just standing at the check point and looking scary isn't that bad." The tinkerer was clearly used to the hedgehogs impulsiveness to be so quick to stand in front of him.

"We'll see what Lanolin wants first, and hope there's a plan to at least leave peacefully. Besides, it'll give you a chance to talk things over with Tails and see if he has a good idea, right?" Belle wasn't sure how much Sonic was willing to listen to her, though was sure he'd listen to Tails much better. "And yes, I could use a ride. Even if I might feel a bit sick afterwards," she said, holding out her hand. Moving at the speed of sound wasn't a fun experience, though it was only a short run and they were short on time.

===========================================================

"Not an option to add that upgrade right now. My hydrokinesis is more of a chaos skill, and while I can control water outside of my pack its not as good because when I suck water into my back the chaos drive inside pumps it with chaos energy. This allows me to control it a lot better. Though to slowly add at a time would require more power to be used, and that'd deplete the chaos driver faster. That's why I always add the water to my pack first before using it." Kitsunami didn't expect Miles to know that, though didn't want his input.

"Not to mention we just want to look tough, not like we're gearing from battle. If the numbers suddenly double it might make GUN more hostile. The turrets are stationary so if they see more it'll just make them nervous at best." Kitsunami didn't want to put too much pressure on GUN as they could easily backfire on them. The fennec then looked hearing Lanolin request quite a few people to the command center.

"Just get the holograms set up and then head to the command center. It shouldn't take that long as I doubt you'll set up that much." Kitsunami was just guessing with that one, though wouldn't be surprised if Miles didn't have that many on his person. "I'll go on ahead." The fennec's not so subtle way to get away from the vulpine. He was dealing with it so far, though really didn't like being around him. With all that said he left and began making his way to the command center.

Honestly? Listening to Surge's plan it wasn't as awful as she made it out to be. her intent was to give herself up no matter what right? So if that was the plan, one last hurrah wasn't awful if he was being pragmatic. Did he like it? No, of course not! He hated the idea of her giving up her freedom to anyone! But she was pretty set on it and if it allowed them plausible deniability then it was a way forward. Even if he was sure it was also an excuse for her to have one last shot at him. She was as eager to throw hands with him as he was to throw hands with her... weird how that worked wasnt it? As for the soldiers they weren't sure what to think. Most of them didn't look ready for a real fight with GUN.

" You are right i don't like it, but... If we had no choice i guess it's a good plan. I just don't know if GUN will buy it or worse try and take us both out... "

He sighed and gripped his wrist rubbing it as if it was sore

" I still think this is a whacked out idea, you giving yourself up and all... Belle will agree with me i'm sure! Giving yourself up to GUN no matter the good intentions is bound to be bad for you... i know you are dead set on this--- but i wanna say it one last time! there has to be a better way..."

Surge wouldn't even get a chance to respond before Lanolin came over the intercom. Calling Sonic, and the others back to the Command center. Which had sonic looking up at a nearby speaker. This was either Lanolin having a killer idea, or bad news for everyone. Sonic was leaning toward bad news... he just felt it in his gut.

" Looks like we might not get a say either way... you need a lift Belle? i bet she'd want you there to..."

He'd hold his hand out to Belle offering to take her to the command center with him. Either way it seemed like this was the end game, either they pulled out victory or GUN Won and restoration came crashing down.

===============================================

Miles tried to ignore how displeased Kit was with calling him his friend. That said he didn't intend to stop calling him that, he wanted to be Kit's friend. But seemed like no matter what he did they'd always be enemies. Chaos was he pulling a Sonic on this one? He didn't want to think about it. But Kit was right about seeing through the holograms but the idea was just to buy them time to form a counter offensive.

" You aren't wrong a sharp eye can see through them, but its meant more to just make the enemy pause. This is a deterrent after all not a means of attack. "

He tapped his chin and slowly looked up to the roof

" As for water... if things do get dicey we can set off the sprinklers. That should flood the room with water and give you enough offense to push back any attack. Heh you ever thought about hydroscopic water filtration for your pack? is always water in the air, you could probably pull water in that way, slowly refilling your pack over time. "

The head Nurse only smiled at the two seeing the tension and fidgeting with her Wispeon. She let the two speak before placing a hand on her hip and speaking up with a cheerful tone!

" Why holograms? I can alwaos duplicate more of myself! i can do around 200 at max... though that's stressing myself a bit. The more i create the less intelligent the copies become. but if you just need me to stand around and look intimidating... we can do that! Though i'd prefer not getting myself killed as it were--- i kind of remember when that happens... its not pleasant. "

She squeaked as if remembering several moments her copies died, and she had to deal with the consequences. Miles figured anything the copy experienced she also experienced. So they were probably a sort of hive mind, the more copies there were, the more connections she made the more of her was spread out among the copies. So this was how Altiss kept his base safe--- his nurse was a real power house when you thought about it from a numbers game. Though clearly she was acting brave, and probably not a good fighter.

" Neat... i gotta say that's a killer gift... but let's not put you in more danger then your in. Plus, you have patients to care for to... let's just stick to holograms... unless we need the extra firepower. "

Miles stopped as the intercom went live, and Lanolins message went out calling all of them to the command center. He gave Kit a glance wondering what changed but, guessed they should grab the belle bot and head to the command center. though he hoped Dawn and the others would be ok till they returned.

" Guess Lanolin is up to something... might as well put our plans on hold for now... "

[valentine-cafe]

Xhao Dayin, the dulled illustrator

[Afab reader]

With the action prompt (chase)

Just thinking about running away from your sweet love Dayin after you find  out they're a vampire! But oh no! He has grown too much of an attachment to you to let you slip through their hands now!! -🍄

˖⁺. ﹙ the possessive dulled illustrator x afab reader ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . you cannot run form me, not you. . . !! 🍒 :  vampire prince ˖ vampire ˖  yandere ˖ illustrator ˖ cw: dark themes﹙ vamp au dayin ﹚

you attempt to run from your beloved upon discovery of their true self

you are the sweetest rose he has ever laid their eyes on.

fragrance so lovely, bringing all of his senses to life. the feel of living, and finally enjoying the emotion that comes with the so-called life pleasure that is bittersweet love.

and like the irritating touch a rose has on a pureblood vampire’s palm. so do they feel the irritation creep into their gut, when he found out you had run away.

he does not chase often. not for hunting nor for time. but you, one of the people so unfortunate to have caught his attention, he does.

rushing through thornbushes, snowcovered leaves, past the willow trees— all of the terrain that will lead him faster to you, taking shortcuts

you don’t stand a chance against a vampire prince, how could you ever be as foolish to believe he wouldn’t catch up to you and drag you back with him. keep you forever?

and indeed, when you felt a harsh hand slam into the back of your head and you fell onto the snowy forest floor, you wake up later to see the man you had run away from. gazing down at you with observant eyes. the shadows covering his face from the dimly lit room.

“you are mine.” he reminds you, leaning down, while touching your chin softly.

“and you will be so until the day you are no longer.”