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mischievousmoony · 2 months ago

Note

hello !! it is again almost 3am where i am but i cannot stop thinking at nerdy james before he gets buff from quidditch.

headcanon time; first or second year, before he knew his friends, he was like this wimpy little kid that got bullied a whole lot (especially by slytherin kids) and that's why he plays pranks on people.

but but! a request maybe of reader liking james before he got popular, but they never made it known because they're the quiet type. but as james became popular, reader stayed the same and they never really really crossed paths again. but there was a time where reader did something small for james back then which he remembered all those years and then they kiss kiss fall in love.

you can you whatever pronouns you want again for reader !!

- 🌱

took the liberty of making the reader a gryffindor hope thats ok

𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 2.8k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (not reader or james), unsolicited flirting from random guy, james is taller than r, gryffindor!reader, introvert!reader, no specific pronouns for reader used

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Secluded in a quiet corner is where you feel most comfortable at parties. Your fellow Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, and that's never been your style, making it much easier to watch events like these from the sidelines.

This doesn't make you the most popular student in your house. It's not as though people don't like you, but they don't really know you. If they had to, the vocabulary they would use to describe you would be limited to quiet, nice, and… quiet.

You’ve always wondered if you would've fit in better in another house. Ravenclaw always seemed appealing. Or Hufflepuff maybe. But for reasons you don't understand, the sorting hat put you here. With the daring, self-assured, unreserved students that you couldn't be anymore like. But, you never really minded. As different as they are, at least they're nice.

For the most part.

"Hey, baby," one of your housemates drawls, emerging from the lively crowd and invading your corner. You can't say you remember his name as he cozies up next to you, unceremoniously situating himself against the wall. His shoulder crashes against it roughly as he says, "You look lonely over here."

His warm, beer-scented breath invades your senses and you scrunch your nose in discomfort, veering away from him as you reply, "I'm fine."

"Want some company?" he presses, surging forward to make up for the space you created and then some.

"No, thank you." It's almost annoying that your instinct is to be polite as this guy invades your personal space.

"Cos I could make for some real nice company," he adds, a sinister smirk working its way onto his face as you cringe away from him.

You're wracking your brain for a way out of this situation, when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, saving you the trouble.

"Hey, ready to head out?" James Potter says, and you have no idea what he's talking about, but at least it makes the other guy back away from you slightly.

"James," you blurt, rather dumbly, surprised at his sudden closeness.

Truthfully, you have been eyeing him from your corner; admiring the boy from afar as you have for years. Most of Gryffindor fancies him, and you're no exception. But who wouldn't have a thing for Gryffindor's valiant captain and ever confident head boy? Especially when that boy looks the way James does: standing over six feet tall with a chiseled, muscular physique (thank you, Quidditch). He seems to know it too, the way he carries himself with confidence.

His most captivating feature, though, is his bright, infectious smile. It's always been your favorite thing about him, even when it was still the shy, hesitant grin of a boy who wasn’t yet confident in himself.

"It's about time for us to get out of here, don't you think?" James smiles, baring all of his pearly whites, and he looks like something out of a dream. His eyes flick from you to the boy to your left. "Oh, hey Callaghan, didn't see you there."

"Potter," Callaghan nods in greeting. "You, uh, you know..." he trails off, gesturing aimlessly to you. You're not surprised that he doesn't know your name.

"Y/N? Course I do," James says, stepping closer to you.

But that. That's a surprise.

James towers over both of you, making Callaghan take another step back in intimidation. You're too busy being surprised to feel relieved over the space. James knows your name?

Callaghan gestures between the two of you, trying the gauge your relationship. "And you two are...?"

"Leaving," James says, offering you his hand, “Right?”

You stare at his hand, momentarily dumbfounded, before you take it, “Right.”

You feel kind of hazy as you let James lead you away from Callaghan, away from the lively party, and out into the corridor. The situation is so surreal that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly woke up to find it was all a dream. When was the last time you even spoke to James Potter?

"You alright?" James' voice cuts through the silence of Hogwarts' halls. Your eyes meet his concerned ones as he leans against the stone wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you say, still a little muddled. You snap out of it with a shake of your head, remembering your manners, "Thank you, by the way."

"Psh," he waves his hand through the air, brushing it off, "You don't need to thank me. Any person with eyes could see Callaghan was being... off putting." James scrunches his nose in judgement, pausing as if to bite his tongue, like has more to say about Callaghan but better not. "Any decent person would've stepped in. No thank you necessary."

"Well I'm thankful anyway," you say quietly, the corner of your mouth tugging upward into a small smile.

James' eyes dart to your lips, your gesture conjuring a wide smile on James' own lips. You're momentarily distracted as his tongue runs across his teeth, barely hearing him as he says, "Well, I may be reluctant to accept your gratitude because I may have had some selfish reasons behind my method."

Your lips part, twitching into the shape of various words that never leave your lips. You feel very warm all of a sudden.

James does a rubbish job of hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he is kind enough to put you out of your misery with an explanation, "I need a walking buddy. Was hoping you'd like to join me?"

You're not any less dumfounded but you manage to get the words out this time. "You want me to go on a walk with you?"

"Yeah," James says, like it's not strange at all.

"Why didn't you ask one of your friends to go?"

"You are my friend," James insists, and you cock and eyebrow.

"I was surprised that you even knew my name."

"Of course I know you! We're friends," he emphasizes.

You look at him skeptically, not sure what you did to make a friend out of him. Not that you wouldn't like to be his friend, but friends usually talk to each other. The last time James spoke to you was last year to ask if you had an extra roll of parchment. And he was more so asking the entire class, you just so happened to be the one with the parchment.

"Do you not want to be my friend?" He asks in a teasing tone, having let you stare in silent skepticism for long enough.

He's not being serious, but you panic anyway. "What!? No! I mean no I don't not want to be friends!"

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from wall. "Then walk with me, would'ya?" He nods his head off in the same direction he starts walking, expecting that you'll follow.

You do, your feet moving faster than your brain can overthink your way into a no. But as you walk next to him your thoughts catch up with you.

What are you supposed to talk about? What do you know about him? Quidditch. What do you know about Quidditch? You know lots about Quidditch. Quick, say something about Quidditch before this silence gets awkward. Why do you suddenly not know anything about Quidditch?

The effects of your racing mind are written across face, your features contorted in worry and a lasting skepticism as you glance up at James every so often.

James is glancing at you too, finding every little crease and contour from your worried look endearing as silent laughter bubbles in his chest.

"Alright, what's that face?" James finally asks, his tone as gentle as possible as not to make you uncomfortable.

Your expression softens into sheepishness. James looks at you with such kindness that you find yourself voicing your concerns.

"We're friends?" you ask in a small, hesitant voice.

James is quick to defend his claim, "I've known you since we were kids!"

"We haven't spoken since we were kids," you say.

He seems to deflate at your words, faltering as he experiences a moment of speechlessness.

"Besides," you go on, a hint of smugness creeping up on you, "we've known everyone at this school since we were kids. Does that make us friends with everyone?"

James is quick to shake his head. "Not everyone was as kind as you back then."

Any trace of smugness has been quickly expunged and replaced by a fluttering in your stomach as his eyes fill with what you would call admiration if you didn't know any better.

"And you were exceptionally kind," he adds on, not helping ease the butterflies in your stomach. "Though you're right. I should've talked to you. I don't know why I didn't talk to you more."

"It's okay," you say in a small voice, prompting you to clear your throat before you continue, "We're talking now."

James smiles that radiant, charming smile that makes you swoon. Before silence can settle over you James' face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

"Have you even been on the Quidditch Pitch at night? I mean, when there's no game going on?"

You shake your head, your eyebrows creasing as you find his question rather random. Before you've fully grasped what he's implying, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the castle.

A gasp escapes your lips as he tugs you along, his enthusiasm and long strides causing him to race ahead without realizing how fast he’s moving. It's only when you're outside that you find your voice again.

"James!"

He slows his pace and drops your hand. For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders as he lacks an excuse for his sudden burst of energy.

You shake your head with a smile. “Some things never change. Do you ever take a deep breath and just mellow out?” you ask, noticing with amusement that he’s just as hyperactive now as he was when you were kids.

James makes a big show of taking a long, deep breath as he falls into step with you at a much more leisurely pace than before.

You shake your head again, chuckling.

"Some things do change, by the way. For example, you were taller than me back then," he says, resting his elbow on the top of your head to emphasize the difference.

You jerk your head away, playfully retorting, "Everyone was taller than you."

"Shut up!" he laughs, letting his arm fall to his side. He's close enough that his arm brushes against yours as you walk. You feel the shake of his laughs against your skin and you can't help but giggle along.

It doesn't take long to walk to the quidditch pitch. The walk felt shorter than it does on game days, but maybe that's because you didn't have James to walk with.

You follow James out to the very center of the field, where he wastes no time to plop down into the grass. "Lay with me," he says, crossing his arms behind his head. "You can see all the stars from out here," he says to convince you.

"You come out here a lot?" you ask as you sink down beside him. The grass tickles your skin as you lay down.

"I've been coming out here since I was a first year," James reveals. "I used to lay in the grass, just like this, and imagine what I would look like flying above dodging bludgers and scoring winning goals."

"Yeah?"

James hums affirmatively. "I've always loved Quidditch. Wanted to play for as long as I can remember. And then I came to Hogwarts, and Merlin, I thought the Quidditch players were so cool. Wanted to be like them so bad."

"What does it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you’re the one first years are looking up to now."

"No, they're not," James scoffs in complete disbelief.

"James," you deadpan, thinking he can't be serious. "You're the Gryffindor captain and rightfully so. One of the best chasers Hogwarts has probably ever seen. I mean, way you escaped that bludger last weekend?” you muse. “Not to mention the Chudley Chop Down you pulled off. You looked just like the professionals, it was incredible!"

James is caught at a loss for words again, a rare occurrence for him, but you've managed to make it happen twice now.

You clear your throat, realizing how you've just raved on about him to his face. You excuse yourself with, "I, um, I really like Quidditch."

James blinks away the awestricken glint in his eyes, responding, "Figured as much. Don't think I've ever played a game I haven't seen you in the crowd of. But enough about me," he continues. "What about you and your achievements, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don't be coy. You have to be the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

"No, that's–"

"C'mon I've seen the marks you get. And no one gets Gryffindor more house points in class than you do. All the professors love you; Slughorn always seats you to his right at Slug Club meetings. And I thought Minnie had a soft spot for me but then I saw how she talks to you."

"Maybe if you called her Professor McGonagall once in a while," you tease, trying to distract him from showering you with anymore compliments to spare your heart from racing any longer.

"Wouldn't matter. She likes you because you're smart. Driven too. She knows you’ll do great things after school. Everyone knows you'll be one of the most successful in our class."

"I hardly think anyone notices me,” you say, nervously ripping up blades of grass from the ground.

"I have," he says, looking at you with so much fondness it takes your breath away.

Your eyes widen, sparkling with warm astonishment at all his kind words. James notices the way your parted lips curve into a small, shy smile. Slowly, it grows into a grin.

He nudges you, "Now what's that look for?"

"This is just... unexpected."

"Unexpected?"

"I mean I didn't realize you remembered by name, let alone knew anything about me."

James' expression is tinted with disbelief. He removes his arms from behind his head as he angles his body slightly toward you, gearing towards something serious. "Of course I did. When I said you were kind to me back then, you were really the only one who was. How could I forget you?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as James sighs deeply.

"Merlin, I really should have talked to you more," he says, shaking his head.

"It's okay–"

"No," he insists, "I should have talked to you more. I don't know why I didn't– I mean I do know why I just..."

You swallow hard, giving yourself time to find your voice. "There's a reason?" you ask.

James turns his head, shifting back against the grass as his gaze finding the stars above him. You can see the moon reflecting in his eyes as he bathes in its light. He looks ethereal like this.

"You make me nervous," he's able to admit in the comfort of not having to see your reaction, pretending it’s just him and the moon out here.

Your jaw goes slack. You'd sooner think you're being pranked or he's under some kind of spell than to believe his words.

"What?" you finally utter. Your hand freezes with a chunk of freshly ripped up grass held hostage between your fingertips.

James chuckles, "You were so nice to me. And I always thought you were so pretty I– every time you said something kind to me I would get so red in the face."

You're silent, at a loss for words as you try to wrap your mind around his admission. If the tips of his ears hadn't turned red, you'd think he's lying.

"I mean everything made me nervous back then," he continues. "Thank Merlin I grew out of that, but you..."

James finally looks at you again, his eyes darting across your face as he absorbs your reaction. Carefully, he takes hold of your wrist, placing your palm flat on his chest, over his heart.

"You still make my heart race," he says quietly, and you can feel the proof under your fingertips.

Words make their way past your lips almost instinctively, driven by a desire to reassure him. "I... I was too nervous to talk to you too."

The fondness in his eyes grows even warmer, and he begins tracing gentle lines on the back of your wrist with the pad of his thumb. "It's alright," he says. His tone is genuine and hopeful as he continues, "We're talking now," he repeats your words from earlier with newfound affection. "And I'd really like it if we could keep talking."

"Yeah," you say. A wave of courage washes over you, and you adjust your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. "Me too."

After that, you find yourself out here a lot more often, staring at the stars with James, your fingers intertwined. You're both much more comfortable around each other now, but from time to time, you still make each other's heart race.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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santaasi · 16 days ago

Text

iris

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj maybank struggled all his life just to finally find home in your arms

warnings: fluff, slight angst at the start, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 3.9k

a/n: bringing myself comfort after the spoilers for the final of s4. my baby boy deserved a lot more.

ᯓ★ now playing…

goo goo dolls - iris

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

IT WAS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT — something so profound that JJ couldn't begin to describe it in words. Yet, he felt it in every cell of his body, in the deepest, most secret corners of his soul. It was as if he was staring into the vastness of the universe, into the boundless, all-consuming darkness that had terrified him since childhood. But now... now it glowed with a hundred, a million, a billion tiny stars — simple, yet magnificent clusters of light that transformed everything in an instant. You became his universe, his everything, and in that moment, everything changed.

JJ would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the exact moment — the exact second — he first met you. He remembered it vividly, like it was etched into his very bones, because that moment was his Big Bang. It was the spark that created the whole universe from nothing, with you as its center, pulling him into an orbit he never thought he’d find.

It was an ordinary day — at least, by JJ’s standards. A typical day filled with drinking, weed, hanging out with Pogues, and the all-too-familiar beatings from his father. After the last one, all he craved was solitude — just to be alone, to fade into the nothingness. To disappear. To stop feeling the weight of pain, to stop wondering what he had done wrong, to stop seeing the pity in his friends’ eyes whenever he showed up at the Chateau, bruised and broken.

For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stop being JJ Maybank — the lost, troubled boy everyone knew — and just be... himself. If only he knew who that was anymore.

It was night — a surprisingly cold summer night. The air carried a chill that seemed at odds with the warmth of the season, but even so, JJ found his haven between the soothing waves. The ocean cradled him gently, rocking him like a child in a mother’s arms, as if the water itself was trying to heal him. He lay on his stomach, his face dipping under the surface, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the sea, trying to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing endlessly in his mind.

How long had he been lying there? He couldn’t say. Time had blurred into the rhythm of the waves, and for a moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t expect the next moment to be so... startling.

You stopped just a few meters away, your breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. Your hair clung to your face, and the water began to bite at your skin with its coldness. And yet, in that brief flash of moonlight, JJ swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you — divine, even. The glow of the moon reflected off the water, casting a silver sheen over you, making everything seem surreal. Your slightly parted lips, your wide eyes, all caught in the stillness of the night, made something inside him twist. At that moment, he realized something, something terrifying: he was a goner.

"What the hell?"

The words slipped out in unison, an awkward moment of shared surprise. You raised an eyebrow, the frustration and relief mixing in your gaze before you splashed water in his face.

"Are you asking me what the hell?" you said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You were literally floating face down! I thought you were dead!"

JJ blinked, caught off guard, and shook his head, sending droplets flying in every direction. He didn’t respond immediately — his mind was still trying to catch up. He just stared at you, the way the moonlight danced on your skin, how the cold seemed to wash away everything else. There was something about you that both unsettled and comforted him, a mix he couldn’t quite place.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t, like, dead. I mean, not really." His voice was hoarse, raw with something he hadn’t let anyone hear in a long time. It barely masked the emptiness he’d been drowning in just moments ago. "Just needed a swim. Didn’t mean to scare you."

You crossed your arms under the water, rolling your eyes, but a soft smile played at the edges of your lips. "Just an ordinary midnight swim, huh?" you teased. But there was a knowing look in your eyes, like you could see through the mask. "I thought I was going to have to explain to the police tomorrow that some guy was found swimming in the ocean. ‘Local girl finds body in the water,’ you know? Not exactly the first week I imagined."

JJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait... you’re new here?"

You nodded, brushing your wet hair from your face, a small sigh escaping you as you did. "Yeah, I moved here a few days ago. Needed to start fresh, I guess." Your gaze shifted toward the shore, distant, but not quite lost. "Thought the ocean might help clear my head."

He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. He nodded without thinking, something about you felt... different. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice almost vulnerable. "Outer Banks isn’t paradise, but... it could be worse." The words slipped out before he could stop them, softer than he wanted, like a door that had been closed for too long suddenly creaking open. He hadn’t expected to share anything, but with you, it didn’t feel like sharing — it felt more like breathing.

The wind picked up, sending a chill over the water. You shivered slightly, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. JJ noticed, instinctively stepping closer, despite still standing in the water.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. "Cold night for a swim."

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him — he, too, had come to the water to escape, to disappear. But with you standing there, he didn’t feel quite as invisible. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

You shrugged, looking toward the shore, but your eyes softened. "Yeah, just... a tough day, I guess. I thought the water might help me forget for a little while."

A bitter laugh slipped from JJ’s lips, and he didn’t try to hide it. "Well, looks like you found the right company for that," he said, his words more raw than he’d intended. But somehow, it felt natural to talk like this, to say things he hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. With you, it didn’t feel so forced.

You turned toward him, your expression softening. There was understanding in your eyes — like you’d been there too. "Tough day too, huh?" you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath, the ocean around you a calm, sacred space. In that silence, something passed between you — unspoken, but real. As if for that moment, you both shared something intangible, something neither of you could put into words.

Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice teasing but gentle. "So... are you always this mysterious, or did I just pick the perfect time to meet you?"

A laugh escaped him, more genuine than he expected. "Maybe a little of both." He let the silence stretch on, comfortable now. For the first time in ages, he felt seen, and it wasn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.

It was ridiculous, he thought — how could a complete stranger, someone he’d just met in the middle of the ocean, at some ungodly hour, feel like they were filling a space inside him he never knew was empty?

But when he looked at you, he felt something shift, something deep inside. Something real. Something alive.

"JJ," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. The sound of his own name felt unfamiliar, like a piece of himself he hadn’t shared in too long.

You gave him a soft smile that reached your eyes, warm and knowing. "Nice to meet you, JJ."

AND THERE IT WAS — his universe had changed. The Big Bang.

After that night, JJ couldn’t think about anything but you. Your presence consumed him, yet in a way that felt like coming alive for the first time. He found himself drifting into your orbit, again and again, as if fate itself had been guiding him toward you all along. But while he believed in fate, you thought it was just chance.

It wasn’t long before JJ began to learn more about you, obsessing over every little detail. He learned that you loved spending your free time on the beach, reading books. Books that he had never bothered with before, but now he listened to them at double speed just to be able to talk to you about them. You had a habit of finding solace in the water, the way the waves seemed to ease the weight of the world from your shoulders. And he learned that you worked in a small diner on the Cut, a place that barely registered on anyone else’s radar but was now a part of his daily life.

It became his mission to visit those places. To catch your eye, exchange a few words. He even went to some Save the Turtles event with Kie — something he’d never have attended before — just to see you, just to find a reason to talk.

He didn't know why he was so drawn to you. Why waking up felt a little easier when he thought about you. Why his days felt less suffocating when he could see you by the ocean, or feel your warmth when you wrapped him up in your arms. And most importantly — why, in a world where he wanted to stay invisible, he wanted you to see him. Because no one, not even the closest people in his life, had ever truly understood him like you did.

It might have sounded corny, but JJ knew you were different. He didn’t want to undress you or get you into bed first, like he did with other girls. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be near you — not in a rushed, desperate way, but slowly, patiently, like the world had all the time for them. And that terrified him. Because everything in his life felt like it was bound to break, and he was scared of getting too close, only to watch it all fall apart.

But you made him feel like he was floating, like he was finally seeing the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And even if it didn’t last forever, he would take it. It was worth it.

Because at some moment you became his safe place. His home.

JJ DIDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT MOMENT HE FIRST CAME TO YOUR HOUSE, or why he couldn’t go back to the Chateau after the latest fight with his father. He just knew that he had found his way to you. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was as if the universe had decided that, for once, he deserved peace. So, he climbed up to your balcony, hiding from the world, just to see you.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of everything lift from his chest. You didn't need to ask questions, you didn’t need explanations. You just held him — no judgment, no demands. Just there. Your hands gently cupped his face, and in that simple gesture, everything felt easier. It was like you knew exactly how much he needed to be held together. The comfort in your touch was so raw, so real, that it felt like he could stay there forever and nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Hey, JJ," you whispered softly as you cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. "You're okay. It's just another day. We'll get through it."

Your words were soft, but they carried a weight. The kind of weight that made him feel like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t carrying all the burden on his own.

"Yeah, we will," he whispered looking in your eyes finding solace in it. "How'd your day go?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, the usual. Serving coffee, cleaning tables... Same old stuff. But then again, it’s a good distraction.”

And JJ realized, right then, that this wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the mess of his life. It was about the way you understood him without needing to understand everything. You were healing him, piece by piece, without even knowing it.

You were there, not because you had to be, but because you wanted to be. And when you laid him down in your bed, curling up beside him, you whispered about your day at work, your own small struggles. You shared your world with him, and somehow, it made his feel a little less heavy.

IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE JJ OPENED UP TO YOU, really opened up in a way he had never done before. It was a slow burn at first. He kept his distance, guarding you from the mess that was his life. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized that you were the one who saw him. All of him — the messed-up, broken parts that he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And when he realized you weren’t scared of that, he finally let go.

"I used to think that if I told you about my life, you'd leave," he admitted one night, his voice thick with raw emotion. "But... you didn’t. You stayed."

You looked at him, your expression tender, your hands tracing the edge of his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere, JJ. Not unless you want me to."

And that was the moment he knew — he had found someone who understood him in a way no one ever had. No one ever would.

One night, after sharing stories and secrets until the stars outside had started to fade, you both found yourselves standing close, the air thick with unspoken words. There was a nervousness between you, but also a tenderness that neither of you had known before. JJ leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, hesitant, and filled with the kind of understanding that only comes when two people truly see each other. His lips were warm against yours, the moment suspended in time. And as he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t need to say anything in return. The truth was already in your eyes, in the way you pulled him closer, your hands tracing the lines of his back like you were memorizing him. He didn’t need forever. He didn’t need promises. He just needed this. You. Now. And that was enough.

THE EVENING WAS SETTLING INTO ITS QUIET RYTHM AT THE CHATEAU. The Pogues were scattered around, some laughing, some lost in their own thoughts, and some just lounging by the bonfire. The air smelled faintly of saltwater and smoke, the crackling warmth from the fire barely reaching the edge of the pier. The world felt suspended in a beautiful hush, as though the universe itself had exhaled, and for the briefest of moments, everything stood still.

But despite the presence of his friends, despite the fire, the laughter, and the constant noise that filled every corner of the Chateau, JJ was focused only on you. Your presence was like gravity, pulling him closer to something real, something tangible. You were his escape, his universe — shaped not by chaos and pain, but by a quiet peace he had never known until you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked softly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your voice was gentle, threading through the sea breeze that fluttered your hair, causing it to stray in wisps across your face. You frowned slightly as the breeze brushed against your skin, the hair teasing at your cheek in an almost playful, yet annoying way. He loved how you could get lost in these little moments, how even the simplest things seemed to pull you in.

JJ, ever the thinker, gazed out at the vast ocean, where the horizon was a delicate line between the fading light of the day and the endless mystery of the night. There was something about the sea — so unpredictable, so endless — that made him feel both small and infinite. It was like he could feel the weight of the universe pressing on his chest, but at the same time, it gave him a sense of freedom, of release.

He shook his head, not really having the words to explain the depth of his thoughts, of how you had become his entire universe in such a short time. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise, like a quiet vow he was ready to keep forever.

"I love you," he said simply, the words falling so easily from his lips it startled him. It was like his heart had always known the truth, but now, with you, it could finally speak it. He turned to face you, his hands gently cupping your face, and pushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your hair had tangled slightly in the breeze, and his fingers brushed against the soft strands as if trying to keep you grounded in this moment.

You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with affection, and for a brief second, JJ wondered if he had been imagining all of this — the way your touch made him feel alive, how your laugh filled him with a joy that felt as though he was living in a dream. He had never been one to express his feelings out loud, never been able to put his heart on the line like that. But with you, everything felt different. Everything felt right.

"I love you, too," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but JJ felt the weight of them — felt how real they were, how they shifted the space between you, making it smaller, warmer, more intimate. It was like the universe had shifted in that moment, like the stars aligned just for the two of you.

But you, ever the one to keep things light, laughed softly, breaking the moment in the most perfect way. Your laugh rang out like music, a melody he couldn’t get enough of. "But everyone knows that, stupid! It’s no secret that you’re head over heels in love with me," you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as if trying to bring him back down from whatever cosmic place his mind had drifted to.

JJ chuckled, the sound deep and sincere. There was no pretense, no walls. Just the two of you, surrounded by the night and the ocean, and for the first time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. His smile was soft but real, and he kissed you once, gently, on the tip of your nose, then moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, each kiss like a reassurance that this moment, this feeling, was real.

"You don't get it, do you?" JJ murmured, his voice a little more serious than the moment required. He let the silence stretch between you before continuing. "It’s not just... about love, doll. It’s about everything. It’s the way you make me see the world in a way I never thought I would. The way you make me feel like... like I’m enough." His voice softened with a vulnerability he hadn’t known he could express. "Before you, everything was just a blur. I didn’t even know how to be, to feel. But with you? It’s different. You make me real, love."

You looked at him, your gaze tender, understanding. Your eyes softened, and without a word, you reached out and pulled him in for a tight hug. JJ rested his head against your shoulder, inhaling the soft scent of your skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. It was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt truly alive.

He had spent so many years running from everything that hurt him, pushing away anything that could cause him pain. But in that moment, wrapped in your embrace, the fear was gone. There was nothing left but the two of you, standing on the edge of the world, with the ocean stretching out before you like an endless promise.

"I never thought I’d say it," he whispered, his words coming out in a quiet rush. "But you’re my Big Bang. The thing that changed everything for me. Before you, it felt like I was drifting through the void, like there was nothing in this world worth holding on to. But now..." He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a newfound intensity. "Now, you’re my everything. You gave me a reason to stay."

Your fingers lightly brushed against his cheek, the touch so gentle it felt like a feather. You looked at him, eyes searching his face, and you smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore, JJ. You’ve never been alone." Your voice was quiet, but the sincerity behind it struck him like a bolt of lightning. "We're in this together."

A small laugh escaped him, a sound that felt almost foreign but so freeing. The way you made him feel — like he was seen, understood, held — it was beyond anything he could have imagined. You were the gravity in his universe, pulling him in, holding him steady. And no matter how far out he drifted, he always knew he'd find his way back to you.

"You make me feel like the world is full of stars," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Like everything that’s ever happened to me — good or bad — led me to you. Like I was just waiting for you to come and show me what it’s like to be."

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, don't get too carried away, Maybank. I’m not that amazing."

JJ smiled, but there was something raw in his expression, something that hinted at all the things he could never quite put into words. "You are," he said softly. "You are my everything. And for once, I’m not afraid to let myself feel it."

The world stretched out before you, both of you standing at the precipice of something so beautiful, so uncertain, yet so undeniable. The stars above shimmered like tiny promises, like constellations forming their own quiet narrative about two souls finding each other in the vast, infinite expanse of the universe. And in that moment, the ocean, the stars, the wind, and the night itself seemed to pause, holding its breath.

"I love you. So much," JJ whispered again, his voice filled with the certainty that had settled deep within him. It was simple, but it was everything. The words echoed, not just through the air, but through his heart, through his bones, reverberating in a way he never thought was possible. And as the night embraced them both, they realized that they had found their place in the world. Together.

And for the first time, JJ Maybank wasn’t afraid to be seen. Because you saw him. And that was enough

thankx for reading <3

so, that’s it. jj maybank deserved the whole world but only got this shitty ending. am i gonna watch obx4 now? probably not. am i gonna write for jj like there’s no s4? definitely yes! i think we’ll all agree that obx ended on s3 and after that nothing happened.

but every time i see the posts about jj i feel so sad… like it literally hurts on some level because he deserved his happy ending more than anyone. even if rudy wanted to leave the show they could have written a good ending for him. not one more fucked up father, but one that would take him to see the world or shit like this. i just wanted him to be happy.

i chose iris because this is so jj coded for me. i haven’t listened to this song in ages and when it popped up in my shuffle yesterday – i just wanted it to be about jj. with all his struggles, all his pain, but also with a hope for something good. so, i rly hope that you liked this work.

and again thank u for reading. thank u for liking, reblogging and commenting - it’s rly means a lot to me. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx x you #obx fic

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homunculus-argument · 5 months ago

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I think life is at its best when you've got enough free time at your leisure to just have random shit happen to you, because you had the time to pause and look around you, and stop to see what this is all about if and when something does seem odd.

The midsummer holiday is this weekend, so I needed to go get all my friends their birthday presents. As it was a nice day and we needed to have our daily walk anyhow, me and my boyfriend decided to head to the shops on foot. The way there was uneventful, but halfway on our way home, we noticed a cyclist crossing the road with a little dog running at the bike's heel, and remarked to each other what an irresponsible way that is to keep a dog - not even on a leash!

But then the little dog halted at the sight of us, and the cyclist went on without even noticing that the dog was left behind. That's when we put together that the dog wasn't even with this guy, but all on its own, wagging its tail and looking right to us. A little cream-coloured poodle, with an apricot colour patch along its spine. A well-groomed, healthy and happy-looking puppy with a collar round its neck - it didn't look lost or scared at all, but like it was having an excellent time, playing unleashed and unsupervised in traffic.

We tried to lure the pup to us, with little success, but since it was clearly not scared of strangers, I figured it's best not to spook it by suddenly grabbing it unless I was 100% sure it wouldn't get away. And as I approached the dog, it ran off back the way it came, up a road on a hill, glancing behind itself as dogs do when they want you to follow, and it halted on the top of the hill.

But by the time we got to the spot where the dog had been, it had disappeared somewhere in the greenery shading the road. So instead of playing cotton-eye-joe - where did you come from, where did you go? - we decided to stop and ask someone nearby where the dog might have come from, to let the owners know that it had been spotted around here. We picked the first house to the left. There was a man building something at the end of the yard, and I was the one who addressed him there.

"Uh, sir? Mister?"

"Huh?"

"Do you happen to know who around here might have a little cream-coloured poodle?"

"Uh, we do?"

"Well it was running down the road in traffic just now. Came back this way, though."

"God fucking damn it."

So the man called his wife who came out with a leash, and the two explained that this isn't the first time the sweet little bastrd had managed to escape - as a matter of fact he had currently been building a proper kennel on their yard, to have something more escape proof than their garden fence. The dog showed up again as the owners called, but didn't want to be caught. Eventually it wandered close enough to me to be snatched by the collar - and even then didn't seem scared to be seized by a stranger, only disappointed that Unsupervised Unleashed Happy Fun Time was over.

The owners thanked us profusedly, and the man went back inside to fetch something, handing us an ice cold bottle of sparkling wine for us for our troubles. Which is now in our fridge. And I guess the next quest is figuring out what we're going to do with that, since neither of us drinks alcohol.

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zyafics · 2 months ago

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PLAY FAKE | part fourteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

Rafe's gonna handle it.

But it isn't easy. His head is volatile and loud, screaming for him to choose a direction that seems intangible and difficult to comprehend. It also doesn't help that his anger simmers beneath his skin at the idea of meeting the person who terrified and threatened you. He doesn't know what he will do, but he promised you he won't take it too far.

All Rafe knows is that he can't do it alone.

"I need your help," Rafe announces with great unwillingness, just as JJ's about to turn his back to him. It wasn't a stroke of luck that Rafe happened to be at the Island Club, at the right time, sitting in JJ's section. But, JJ, despite his obligation to serve as a paying member of the exclusive club, wanted nothing more than to evade his duties to the Kook.

Until he spoke, of course.

It takes a second, then another, before the admission registers and JJ turns around. "What?"

Rafe stands from his table, and curious patrons at nearby tables watch the exchange between them. It isn't a secret that JJ and Rafe have a bitter rivalry, elevated by differing social classes and longstanding resentment that transcends their own lifetimes. It also isn't a secret that whenever these two are in close quarters, more often than not, their conversations end in fists.

But, as much as Rafe has adrenaline coursing through his veins and tension stiffening his shoulders that he would love to find an outlet for release, he didn't come here for a fight. Not with JJ, at least.

"You know where Aaron lives, don't you?"

JJ blinks at the Kook, suspicion shadowing his features as he takes his time before answering. "What about it?"

"I—" Rafe clenches his jaw, trying to soothe out his ego. "I need a favor."

"For what?"

"Are you fucking dense, Maybank?" Rafe snaps, his capacity for meandering questions reaching its all-time limit. It doesn't help that, typically, in these situations, Rafe tries to calm his nerves with his vices beforehand. But he can't. He has to do it unbearably sober. Gritting out, "What do you think?"

JJ narrows his eyes at Rafe, his own hands clenched by his side. Despite what the rest of Kildare believes, JJ isn't as stupid as people make him out to be. He simply didn't trust Rafe. Didn't understand his intent. Half of him is convinced that Rafe is in cahoots with Aaron because he knows this circles back to you and your bar.

It had to be about the note JJ collected that warned about Aaron's threat. JJ's concern with it was because of Sailor's ancestry. It's an institution for the Pogues; decades of families and tourists visiting the place to landmark what a great treasure it is to Outer Banks. It means absolutely nothing to Rafe.

Except for you.

Slowly, but surely, the corner of JJ's mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and Rafe catches the arrogant expression. Before JJ can open his mouth and instigate an actual fight, Rafe cuts him off. "Can you help me out or not?"

Normally, under any other circumstances, JJ would laugh in Rafe's face and walk away. It would serve as great ammunition against the Kook prince and his divine reign. But this concerns you. The person who took care of him growing up, who patched him up, who served as a beacon of safety for his troubles. If that means working with Rafe, JJ can do it.

"I can," JJ nods, before glancing at the clock hung over the oceanfront exit of the restaurant. "After my shift. I'll show you."

—

Truth be told, Rafe could've gone alone.

It wasn't improbable for him to discover the address of Aaron without JJ's help. He's resourceful, and with enough time, he would find it. But it was the fact that he didn't trust himself to go. He didn't know what he was going to do, what he was going to say, or how he was going to react. All he knows is his mind feels linear, sharp, and honed down to one single mission: pay your debts and be done with it.

It didn't matter the steps he'd take to get there.

"Are we going or what?"

JJ sits in the passenger seat of Rafe's parked car, the headlights turned off while they sit hidden from view. For the duration of the ride, Rafe had calmed down enough to steady his movements, take the wheel, and follow JJ's directions.

But, if Rafe lets himself think, and be reminded of how Aaron hurt you, frightened you, and nearly destroyed you, a cloud of red distorts his vision and guides his hand.

He doesn't answer JJ, staring out the dark window to discern the dark silhouette of Aaron sitting out in his yard, smoking a cigarette. His hands clenched in his lap, and when JJ repeats his previous question, this time, Rafe answers by going to the waistband of his pants and pulling out his gun.

"Woah, Rafe—" JJ holds both hands in the air, eyeing the lethal weapon as Rafe sets it on the dashboard.

"You take it."

JJ says nothing, studying Rafe's expression before cautiously picking up the gun and securing it. It goes unspoken, of course, but JJ understands what Rafe asks of him.

He turns back to Rafe. "How are we gonna confront him?"

"Follow my lead."

With a click of the car's door, Rafe steps out with JJ. He inhales a sharp breath before approaching the idle figure sitting on a lawn chair in front of his trailer, a bored-yet-curious look stretches across his face.

"Who are you?" Aaron asks, snuffing his cigarette on the ground before glancing behind Rafe to find JJ. "Hey, JJ. Here to bail out your old man again?"

JJ scoffs but says nothing. Aaron's gaze returns to Rafe. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"

Rafe doesn't want to answer, to give Aaron any sense of satisfaction of knowing his name. He doesn't know what he had expected—perhaps someone who used their fists more than their words and looked like they could follow through with their threats—but Aaron doesn't meet those expectations. All he sees is someone sleazy lowlife who deserves nothing of his time and efforts.

Going to the back of his pockets, Rafe pulls out a wad of cash and throws it to Aaron's feet.

"What's this?" Aaron bends down to pick up the money, leafing through the paper to determine its legitimacy. And he chuckles. "Okay, Moneybags, what is this?"

"To pay back a debt," Rafe answers. He can't believe how steady his voice sounds. He goes on to explain it's for you—to cover the cost of your remaining loans, and for Aaron to finally leave you alone.

When Rafe finishes his declaration, the loan shark takes a moment to process the information before a derisive smile spreads across his face. "She's got a Kook paying for her shit? Gotta say that's impressive, even for her."

"Shut up," Rafe warns, but Aaron appears unfazed by the threat. He merely stands from his chair, meeting Rafe's stare head-on, deciding to provoke further.

"To be honest, I didn't think she would be able to do it," Aaron clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. "Thought I had to burn down her bar to teach her a lesson."

Red-hot anger pulses through Rafe's veins, and his hands ache for a brawl. But he doesn't give in. Clarity still resides in his mind, telling him that he doesn't need to resort to violence. All he needs is to be done with this scumbag.

"That's all she owed you," Rafe spat. "And that means you'll leave her alone. Now and forever."

"Aw," Aaron mocks, playing a hand over his chest. "Her big bad protector comes in the form of Rafe Cameron," he raises a brow at the subtle shock on Rafe's face. "Thought I didn't recognize you, Moneybags? Your daddy must be proud you're funding a charity case from the Cut."

"Shut the fuck up," Rafe growls, stepping forward, but JJ's quick. He grabs a hold of Rafe's elbow, reminding him that it's not worth it. Clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring, Rafe reluctantly admits JJ is right.

He holds out one of his hands. "Give me back her necklace."

Aaron rolls his eyes, going into his pocket to pull out the chain and drop it into Rafe's palm.

"It's pathetic, you know," Aaron says as the pendant lands on Rafe's hand. "You going around and doing her bidding like a little bitch. Is fucking her that good that she has you in a chokehold?"

Grinding his teeth, Rafe meets his stare head-on. "It's better than being a little pussy who hides behind threats to feel important."

Rafe offers nothing more than a mocking grin in return, twisting around to head back to his car. JJ has his hand on Rafe's shoulder, guiding him, and Rafe is surprised at how he managed to leave the interaction unscathed.

Until Aaron decides to open his mouth one last time.

"Tell your little girlfriend that if she needs another loan, I'll be here, and next time, I'll even let her pay with her cunt," he laughs, and that's the final straw that made Rafe snap.

Before JJ can stop him, Rafe suddenly turns and swings at Aaron's jaw. The scumbag stumbles back, catching his face but, before he can recover, Rafe tackles him into the ground, delivering punch after punch until Aaron is nothing but a bloody pulp.

His rage is burning, his fury bleeding into each strike, and Rafe no longer cares. He's gone off the deep end, delivering violent justice to make up for the fact that Aaron has done nothing but terrorize you. Red glazes his vision until it starts to stain his knuckles and shirt too.

But Aaron is strong too. He manages to throw a hit of his own, splitting Rafe's bottom lip. They're wrestling on the filthy earth until somehow Aaron manages to produce a knife and puts it against Rafe's throat.

Harsh breaths turn to swallow as Rafe feels the cool blade digging into his skin.

"You think you're hot shit, Moneybags?" Aaron spats, his eyes wild. "You think you scare me?"

Rafe says nothing. He doesn't know what to do next. It's a dangerous situation he's in, the knife buried into the knot of his throat. But before he can formulate a plan, the familiar click of a gun sounds.

"Get the fuck off of him."

Aaron stills, the barrel of the weapon pressed against the back of his skull immobilizing every muscle. JJ roughly grabs his shoulder, hauling him off Rafe, and allowing the Kook to get on his feet.

"We're done," JJ declares firmly, the gun remains against the back of Aaron's head. "Do you hear me?"

Aaron nods, and slowly, JJ lowers the weapon. But that wasn't enough for Rafe. Snatching the gun out of JJ's hand, without a second thought, he fires—the sharp bullet piercing into Aaron's left arm, sending him tumbling back.

JJ shouts something indistinguishable at Rafe but he hears nothing but the harsh thumps of his own breaths. He steps forward, while Aaron grimaces in pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder, and points the gun right at the center of his chest—where he had mocked Rafe moments ago.

"You won't do it," Aaron grunts tauntily, still trying to cling to any last ounce of power he has left. "You're not that crazy."

"You wanna bet?" Rafe warns in a deadly calm. "Don't talk about her, don't contact her, and don't even think about her, because if I ever hear you causing her any more problems, I'll fucking kill you."

Lowering the gun, Rafe marches over to his car with nothing but the buzzing of his skin. He can't think of anything else; residual adrenaline courses through his veins like an electric current, sending his emotions haywire. And when JJ asks for the car keys—seeing Rafe unfit to drive—he hands them off without hesitation.

Inside the passenger seat, Rafe's hands are trembling. JJ glances from the corner of his peripheral but doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls out in reverse before shifting the gears into drive.

Rafe doesn't ask where they're going, concentrating on recounting the details of his memories. The blood, the bullet, and how the act he committed feels completely out of his realm—out of his head. He doesn't know what to feel.

The ride is eerily silent. JJ keeps sparing glances over to Rafe, but he's too numbed out to acknowledge any of them. When Rafe finally gains the ability to speak, he asks JJ where he's driving them. JJ answers vaguely, "You'll see."

By the time the car rolls to a slow stop, the familiar bar comes into view. The flickering neon lights welcome with an OPEN sign, and JJ kills the engine. He turns to Rafe, cautiously taking the gun back, and dropping it into the center console with the safety on.

They say nothing as they step into the bar. You're standing behind the counter, lifting your head when the little bell alerts new customers, only to discover the duo standing in the middle of the walkway. One of your brows raises at the odd pairing.

"Fuck. I need a drink," JJ announces, dropping the car keys on the table before steering behind the counter to grab a bottle. Your eyes follow JJ's movements with amusement until they return to Rafe.

He takes a seat at one of your bar stools, remaining quiet. Nothing in his head feels right, like he's in a dream state he doesn't know how to wake up from. You eye the fresh cut on Rafe's bottom lip and, unable to gauge what type of consolation you should give, decide to comfort him with one of his vices.

Pouring out a glass, you hand it over the counter. "Need a drink?"

He shakes his head.

"Need you," Rafe sets the drink down and grabs your hand, leading you out from behind the bar before stealing a kiss. He pulls you onto his lap, needing to close the distance, while roughened scraps of his callouses skim across your cheeks.

Rafe's kiss is depraved, clinging to you like you're the last breath of air. Like you're the only thing that grounds him. It's tangy and metallic, tasting his cut, which only adds to the delirium of his state and how desperate he is for you. One of his hands falls to your hips, while the other clings to your face.

He needs this. Needs you. Rafe's restraining himself from taking more than you can handle, and when you pull away, breathless, you press your forehead against his.

"Are you okay?" You whisper.

No, but he doesn't want to tell you that. With the brush of his knuckles across your cheek, feeling the warm heat of your flushed skin, he rasps. "Now I am."

"What happened?" You ask, capturing his hand into yours, grazing the blood that stained his knuckles. Some of his skin is split, but most of them seem to be from somewhere else. "Did you kill someone?"

Rafe's jaw tightens. He doesn't want to scare you with what he's done. He doesn't want you to look at him differently. When he pulls his hand away from your grip, afraid of tainting you, it takes a moment before he speaks. "I went to see Aaron."

Your easygoing smile drops and your shoulders stiffen. Withdrawing slightly, you examine Rafe from the waist up, picking up the specks of dark red covering his shirt, the trail of dried blood down his arms, and the nasty yellowing bruise that lines his jaw. "Holy fuck," you breathe, roaming your hands over his body, checking for damages. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine,"

"You're bleeding," you repeat, tipping Rafe's head back to examine a small puncture wound at the column of his throat, running your fingers over the nick to discover the scab. You attempt to get off his lap, "Rafe—"

He catches your elbow, stilling your movements and your gaze rises to meet his. His eyes are dark, like a storm over an ocean, but there's tenderness when he looks at you. "It's not all my blood."

A beat passes before you ask. "What did you do?"

At first, Rafe detects disapproval, making him want to recoil and shut down. But, upon closer inspection of your features—the way your brows pull together and your eyes soften with indescribable warmth—he recognizes it to be concern. For him.

With that revelation, he squeezes your hips comfortingly. "Nothing I didn't promise."

You don't know what to make with that. Hesitatingly, you hold your breath before deciding to ask the next question. "Did you kill him?"

"I should've,"

"But you didn't," you say, recognizing the extent of what Rafe will do for you. It's terrifying to wield such a power. "...Right?"

"Right." He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't want him to get in trouble because of you, potentially going to prison. You need him too much.

JJ, witnessing the intimate interaction, decides it's time for him to go. Carrying a bottle in his arms, he's about to silently slip out of the bar when Rafe catches the blurring movements and calls after him.

JJ freezes.

Rafe didn't forget about how JJ had his back at Aaron's. How everything could've ended a lot differently had the Pogue not been there. But, he didn't know what to say. There's still a bitter rivalry between them, and he doesn't necessarily enjoy JJ's close relationship with you. But there's an understanding. With begrudging respect, "Thanks."

It surprises both you and JJ and he doesn't know how to take it. But JJ isn't dumb. With one parting glance in your direction, seeing you in capable and powerful hands that'll do anything to protect you, he nods once. "Anytime."

When JJ slips out, you stare at Rafe in disbelief. His eyes return to your face, as you raise a confused brow. "What's that for?"

"Nothing," Rafe shakes his head, pulling you in for another kiss when you slip off his lap. He grabs your arm. "Where are you going?"

"I need to clean you up."

He doesn't want you to go. "I don't need that."

"Rafe, you're bleeding," you declare, gesturing to his face, "I'll be right back."

With great reluctance, he lets you go. Moments later, you return with a box of first aid and set it on the counter before returning to his lap. Disinfecting the cut on his throat, you patch up the wound before moving to his jaw and lips.

Rafe watches you as you work. Your touch is gentle, and your eyes are concentrated. When you catch him staring, you lift your gaze to his, a shy smile spreading over your lips. "What?"

"Just waiting for you to finish so I can kiss you," he confesses, his hands roaming up and down your waist in impatient strokes. He needs to feel you again to ground him.

You tilt your head teasingly. "Is kissing me more important than taking care of yourself?"

"Clearly." He declares as if the answer is obvious. It makes your stomach flutter, cheeks warming with heat.

You return to tending his jaw, but Rafe can't wait any longer. Roughly, he pushes your hands away and pulls you in for another desperate kiss, capturing the nape of your neck as he practically devours you.

"Rafe—" You part to breathe.

"Need you," he repeats, just as anguished and desperate as before. "Stop taking care of me and let me have you."

You don't have a second say before he recaptures your lips, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. His touch is hungry, exploring every inch of bare skin until he goes under your shirt to pull down your bra and find the sensitive flesh of your breasts.

Raw, and full of passion, you're reminded of the times when Rafe needed to fuck you to channel his aggression into something productive. You don't know exactly what happened with Aaron, only that it's over and you want to offer him refuge in any way possible.

But Rafe is much tamer than before. He's careful not to hurt you, not to play too rough. When he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his breathing is heavy but his words are firm.

"I'm not fucking you in a bar."

This surprises you.

"You weren't complaining when you fucked me in a dressing room," you whisper sultrily, planting kisses along the curve of his neck. "Or in the bathroom."

His jaw tightens with declining restraint. "That was different."

"How different?"

"I'm... I'm trying to treat you better."

You don't want him to. At least, not during sex. You want it rough, dirty, and filthy. This side of Rafe cosplaying as a saint feels wrong—especially when you know he's nothing but the devil. But you're fine with it. You need it.

"Maybe you shouldn't," you say, moving to the shell of his ear. "Maybe I want you to treat me like your own personal slut."

Rafe groans, his resolve cracking, and he stands from the stool. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to his car, throwing the door wide open to throw you inside the backseat.

He slams you against the back of the driver's seat, your legs straddling Rafe while he kisses you urgently. His hands grab at your body, unhooking your bra with a soft click and breaking the kiss only for you to shed your clothes.

Your core pulses with need; the open spread of your legs allows you to feel his hard erection, separated by a thin pair of panties and his jeans. You need it off.

Rafe trails his kisses down the curve of your neck, and you tip your head back with a soft moan, his hands fall under your skirt and between your legs. Long fingers brush against your panties, discovering the wet patch.

"Are you this wet for me?" He murmurs against the heat of your shoulders, his fingers teasing your core with your slick but refusing to slip in.

You let out a little whimper. "Hm,"

"You want me to do something about it?"

You nod desperately, a hand falling between your legs to guide him closer to your cunt, but Rafe pulls back. In one swipe, he snatches your wrist in one hand and pins them above your head, against the headrest of the driver's seat.

"Don't touch," he warns thickly, his dark eyes meeting yours and heat exploding in your stomach, your pussy aching to wrap around something.

"Please," you beg, and Rafe grins wickedly. Pushing your panties to the side, he thrusts two fingers in. Slowly, at first, to test your walls, until his penetration comes with a steady—but increasing—rhythm.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, just as Rafe captures you in another lustful kiss. Your wrists strain from the bound, but you love how you're held captive—physically and emotionally—to be controlled by his will. His fingers go faster, adding his thumb to rub your swollen clit as he swallows all the noises.

Rafe separates, kissing an arrow straight down your breasts before covering a pierced nipple. His teeth tugs the barbell, causing a whimper to add to your moans, elevated by the high you feel approaching with the slight twinge of pain.

"Come for me, baby," Rafe rasps, his voice vibrating off your skin, as he feels you fluttering around his fingers. His teeth pulls on your nipple, heightening your sensitivity and pushing you over the edge. You reach your orgasm on his hands, and Rafe guides you through the process by fucking you harder—through the tightening of your walls—making you mewl with pleasure.

Pulling out his slick-covered fingers, he pushes them between your teeth, hard eyes demanding you to lick them clean.

You do, not breaking a second of eye contact, and when Rafe retracts his fingers from your mouth, using the same hand, he cups your cheeks roughly.

You drive him wild, with the way you're so obedient, but with his face right in front of yours, just a breath away, he doesn't kiss you for reward. Instead, his words come low, in a warning and promise, "Fucking mine."

"Yours," you admit, and Rafe swallows hard.

His hands clench and unclench by his side, but he doesn't make a move to take off his pants, his bulge prominent as an outline under his jeans. Your eyes drop to it, licking your lips, and teasingly ask, "Are you going to do something about that?"

Rafe locks his jaw, teeth grinding against one another, before he follows your line of vision. Conflicted, Rafe doesn't know if he can be inside you, to fuck you, and you come to the dawning realization that Rafe's holding back.

"I'll help." You add in a whisper. "Let me feel you."

He doesn't know if he can handle it, but with the pleading look in your eyes, and the way your lips part, he breaks another one of his constraints and releases your wrists.

"Turn around."

You quickly listen, and Rafe unbuckles his belt to remove his pants and boxer-briefs, throwing them to the floor of his car. With all barriers removed, he hauls you back onto his lap, his hard cock pressed against the small of your back.

You feel a bit of his pre-cum leaking onto your backside, but Rafe makes no urgent moves to be inside you. You squirm, needing contact, but Rafe grabs your hips to still your movements.

"I don't want you touching yourself," Rafe murmurs against the shell of your ear, the lack of eye contact heightens your nerves to feel every sharp motion, every breath of air, as some form of action. "Do you hear me?"

"I won't," you promise, your cunt clenching around nothing with the idea of Rafe entering you soon. You shift closer to his cock, feeling the thick girth on you.

Rafe tsks. "I don't know if I believe you,"

"Believe me," you beg.

"Put your hands above your head," Rafe commands, and you obey. You reach towards the roof of the car as Rafe's strong arms—still stained with traces of blood—cages you in. He adjusts the headrest of the seat before you, widening the gap. Grabbing your wrists, he slotting them inside and slams the headrest down, locking you in place. "Now, you can't."

You wiggle your hands, but it's completely trapped. It makes your heart hammers with exhilaration, knowing you're at Rafe's disposal.

His hands wander over your backside, fingers tracing patterns over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine at his feather-light touches. It's teasing, drawing out the seconds, and you sit in the weight of your exposure until you're left with nothing but burning desire.

Anticipation climbs up your chest as Rafe withdraws his hands, his warmth, and before you can utter a whine, something cold covers your collarbone. You look down to discover the necklace—the one Aaron took away from you—back around your throat, the R glistening with possession.

"You got it back," you say quietly, your stomach fluttering with pride.

"I got it back," he confirms, rescinding his hands. Again.

It's such a push and pull. You almost groan out of despair, needing him to do something, but he remains distant. Despite the absolute control, having everything he's ever wanted from you—your submission, you being completely his—Rafe is still holding back. His touch second-guessed, his conflict evident.

He doesn't trust himself.

It twists and buries you with need.

"Rafe," you breathe, but he doesn't do anything. "Rafe."

"All this fucking begging," Rafe grabs your chin, forcing your head to the side to meet his hardened gaze. "What?"

Your eyes scan over his features, the hard lines of his face, the discipline he carries behind his gaze. Everything is still within bounds. "Let go." You whisper. His jaw ticks. "Use me."

"You don't understand what you're asking for."

"I trust you," you murmur, closing the distance until his shallow breaths fan against your cheeks. "Let go for me."

Finally, his last chain of restraint snaps, and primal instinct takes over. Rafe tightens his hand around your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss, only for you to reciprocate with the same ferocity, the same burning needs.

When he pulls away, you bite down on his bottom lip, tugging out the flesh until you taste a tangy metallic on your tongue.

"Use you?" He repeats, as a last line of defense. He's giving you one last chance to back down.

"Use me."

"All mine?"

"All yours."

Rafe releases your face and grabs your hips, lifting them in the air before dropping you on his cock, buried to the hilt. A guttural groan escapes his lips, and his hands remain securely around the fat of your hips, bouncing you up and down his lap.

Sensitivity courses through your veins, as Rafe uses you for his own pleasure. His aggression channels into how fast and vigorously he forces you to bounce, making the backside of your thighs burn.

He watches, as his cock slips in and out of your cunt, each time like the first. "Fuck, sweetheart," Rafe moans with pleasure, your walls fluttering around him. "You're so fucking tight for me."

"I'm so sensitive," you mumble, balling your hands into tight fists as you're trying hard to control yourself. You can't move, only up and down, and the lack of mobility makes you feel everything more. "Rafe."

"Keep saying my name, baby," Rafe demands, one of his hands coming up to grab a handful of your breast. "Remind yourself who's dick you're riding."

Rafe fucks you hard, allowing you to feel everything single twitch of his cock until the familiar heat blooms in your stomach and tightens. Your orgasm is on the horizon, you're certain Rafe is closely behind as your walls grip him in a tight vice.

"Fuck," he swears, making you go faster, the sounds of your cunt squelching with wetness. "Come on, come with me, baby."

You do, moaning wildly as you come for a second time, feeling Rafe's hot ropes of cum fills you. Your breathing is hard, coming down from this high, but Rafe doesn't let you take a second to break.

He unlatches the headrest, freeing your hands, but within seconds, he flips you over, forcing your face into the leather seats as your ass is positioned in the air.

Rafe positions himself behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass as the other strokes his hardening cock, readying for a second round. You're breathing heavily, trying to gather enough strength to pull yourself by your arms, but as you attempt, Rafe had other plans.

The crown of his cock lines against your entrance, his fingers stroking through your wet folds and, with little warning, slams into you. It makes you fall back onto your face, digging into the leather as Rafe roughly thrusts inside of you.

"Ohmygod," you murmur, delirious with overstimulated pleasure, needing a second to breathe, but Rafe allows none. You granted him permission to use you, to fuck you, and he's using it to his fullest power.

Everything is sensitive. All the nerves inside you are heightened to a frayed state, needing time to recover, but Rafe goes at a relentless pace. His rhythm is reinvigorated, going harder, faster, and more brutal than before.

"Rafe, Rafe," you moan, writhing with pleasure that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and Rafe's hand falls between the space of your legs, massaging the swollen nub. "I'm going to come again."

"Already?" He laughs tauntingly, "You truly are my little slut, aren't you?"

"Rafe," you whine.

"Say it,"

"Rafe, please,"

He abandons your clit to grab your throat, hauling you upwards by the limbs. Your breathing is constricted by the hard grip, shallowly taking in air, as Rafe murmurs hotly into your ear. "Fucking say it."

"I'm your slut," you concede, and you can feel the mischievous grin spreading across his face as he goes faster. "God, fuck, I'm your anything."

Rafe kisses behind your ear, mumbling, "Good girl," before thrusting deeper. He's hitting everything, bullying your cervix until you're seeing stars, and a third orgasm tips out of your body with a scream.

Yet he still doesn't stop.

He fucks you through this orgasm, with your legs shaking and your body trembling from overpowering until he comes inside you again. He fills you completely, not letting a single drop go to waste, and when he finally pulls out, his cum drips down your thighs.

You slump against the seat, needing space, but Rafe still has yet to let you go. He hauls you back to your knees and slots you between his legs, your back leaning against his chest.

Both of you catch your breaths, harsh breathing fills the air alongside the smell of sex. No one moves, exhaustion fills both your bones, until Rafe drapes one of his arms across your stomach, pulling you in protectively.

You, with your last bit of energy left, lift your head to meet Rafe's gaze. He's calmer, more at peace than before, and all the weight on his shoulders completely dissolves. With a small, tiresome smile, you ask, "I have one more thing to ask you."

He lifts a brow.

"Can you take us home?"

A small smile rises at the corner of his lips. Us, he hears. He likes the sound of that.

He nods, and with one last parting kiss on your forehead, Rafe gets dressed and takes you home.

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writersmess · 2 months ago

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DEATH WISH LOVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

gif credit

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Buck never thought he could love someone like that. Especially not someone with the same death wish love as him.

Warning: Anxiety crisis, near-death experience, hospital, crying, ansgt.

Word count: 2.5K

a/n: My God, I can't believe it's taken me over a year to get back. I missed this place so much. It's been an intense, crazy year. I finally got my dream job at the best hospital in Latin America. I'm so happy, but at the same time it's demanded everything of me, working long shifts almost every day, but its the price I have to pay. I hope you like this one, it was based on the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone, which as soon as I heard it I immediately imagined something with our dear Buck. I confess I thought I'd do something angsty, but I don't think I have that capacity, he already suffers so much that I just wanted him to have a happy ending this time.

Masterlist

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You were the new firefighter in 118, and also new to the city. In order to follow your dreams, you left your hometown with everyone and everything you knew. You craved for bigger things, you wanted the big city, you wanted Los Angeles.

The team welcomed you with open arms, which was unusual to you. You weren’t used to this or neither known by your affectionate gestures, but apparently everything was an excuse for a hug at the station. It was a bit hard to get used to all this affection, especially when you came from a place where you were always by yourself.

That was one of the main reasons you became a firefighter, you have walked through fire every single day of your life, why not make it your profession?

You were a source of curiosity between the team, always so quiet and so resistant to everyone's affection. It was hard to win you over. Especially because you had a rather difficult personality, you were fearless at work, you weren't afraid to go into the fire to save lives, you did it without thinking twice.

To Bobby you were a cause of concern, and sometimes the reason why he was having trouble sleeping. He knew this personality very well. It was the same one he had struggled for years to learn to deal with, the one he had to fight with so many times, he was very familiar with this death wish love, it was the same as Buck’s.

The blue-eyed man on the other side, couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off you. Ever since you arrived a few months ago, your image has been running through Buck’s mind. You've become a challenge for him. But not in a bad way, he wanted to get to know you, he wanted to understand you. But you didn't make things any easier for him, especially when today was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

"You're drooling" he snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie mocking next to him.

"Shut up" Buck said, turning his gaze back to you playing with his niece.

You had a beauty he couldn't explain, an angelic one. You had this steely gaze and looking at you felt like suicide. He would fall to his knees if you asked him to. How could someone so delicate also be so dangerous?

The way you were reluctant to follow Bobby's orders, you'd walk into the fire without a second thought. You would take risks without thinking about your own safety, just thinking about everyone else. He saw how hard you worked, he saw how mad Bobby got when he ordered the building to be evacuated and you were always the last one to leave. You were intriguing and he was fascinated.

It was so strange for you. Being in Maddie's living room, with everyone gathered together like a big family, laughing and telling funny stories. The team met once a week, with all the families together, the children running around the living room, the smell of food in the air, the voices, the laughter.

You accepted the invitation after a few months of refusing, and now you spent the week looking forward to the moment when you would be together again.

Sometimes when you got home from a meeting, you cried. You cried because you never had that, you never had anyone who cared about you. You were an unexpected pregnancy, your parents didn't planned you, they didn't want you and that was never a secret to anyone.

And that's why you were surprised when one day you arrived early at the station and Hen had a cake for you that you had once said reminded of what your grandmother used to bake.

Or when another one Eddie handed you a drawing that Chris made specifically for you. Of the two of you playing together.

Or when Maddie sent you, through Chim, the cookies you said you loved one day while you were having coffee together.

Or when Bobby invited you to have lunch with him and Athena on a Sunday ‘cause he knew you were going to do it alone.

Or when Buck gave you a book he'd heard you say was your favorite during a conversation.

It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Your hands were shaking, your heart pounding. The words your father had once spoken echoed in your mind. "You will never be loved". But you were at a table with 118's entire family, and you felt loved. Maddie told you about the gossip from her work. Karen hugged you from the side every time you passed by her. Hen included you in every conversation. Athena calmly answered all the questions you were curious about her work. So why did you feel like an imposter? Why was your father's voice echoing inside your head? Why were you on the verge of an anxiety attack?

"I'll be right back" you muttered to the girls, but you realized how shaky your voice sounded. You were pathetic.

You barely made it to the bathroom, your legs buckled and you sat down in the corner of the room. You could hardly breathe, it was hard to pull in the air. Tears streamed down your face. Your heart was racing. Your hands were shaking.

You heard your voice being called from outside. Damn. You couldn't calm down, your hand was on your chest as if it could make the pain go away.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. Calm down, I’ve got you" it was Buck.

His voice was just a whisper in your ear. You let a sob escape your lips. Pathetic. You felt his arms around you, until you were all wrapped up in his arms. Why was he doing that? Why did he care?

He stayed there until you stopped crying. You were still in his arms, and it was so warm, so safe. Sighs came from your lips, and you couldn't imagine what a mess Buck's head and heart were in. He wanted you in his arms, not just now.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you, so you stayed.

"You don't have to talk about what's going on in there, but the day you feel like you need a hug to cry into, you've got mine" your eyes filled with tears again. "And don't ever apologize for it"

The smiles on your lips were becoming constant. And it was Buck's favorite image. You were letting people through your armor, you were letting your guard down, and it felt good. You now baked pies and cakes for the station on your days off, recipes learned from the girls after a few long afternoons of chatting and coffee.

Your laughter was contagious, and the boys would always crack little jokes to get them out of you.

Your eyes were now looking out for a pair of blue ones, all the time, everywhere. Eyes that were always looking back at you. Your hands were always looking for an excuse to bump into Buck's, just to feel that shiver run down your spine every time. And he would find any reason to text you, until the excuses became routine. You woke up every day with a good morning message and went to bed with a good night one. The little touches now became big gestures, Buck loved to brush your hair out of your face and tuck them behind your ear. And you loved to run your hand over the birthmark above his eye. You loved when his warm lips traveled up your neck to your lips. You loved when his hands ran over your body always so slowly and so gently, bringing goosebumps wherever they went. You loved making love with him. How he worshiped your body, how much he worshiped you. The way he made you feel loved.

You had a hold on Buck, and you didn't even know it. He had become attached to you, attached to the idea of having you by his side. The nights with you were the ones he could truly rest in, the mornings where he woke up to your soft kisses on his face, were the ones he would keep forever in his mind.

But he could feel that you were still resisting his feelings, and he was terrified of losing you. Buck was in love with you. It took months for him to realize that, but he did it. He loved you.

But one thing has never changed. And as Buck followed the loud murmurs coming from Bobby’s office, where he knew you were at, he kept in mind the danger you were in at every call. He couldn't lose you.

"Hey, what happe-" he couldn't finish the sentence when he saw you walking out the door, since you brushed past him, bumping into his shoulder, without even looking him in the face.

Buck made his way to the room, where he saw his captain wiping his hands across his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"She'll end up dead if she keep acting like this, Buck"

"I know"

"After the last call, if she doesn't change her behavior, I'll be forced to suspend her."

"I know."

Buck couldn't lose you.

You couldn't talk to Buck yet, you were so nervous after your conversation with Bobby. You were trying your best, how could he tell you that you had a death wish love? You were saving lives, and it didn't matter if it cost you your own. You didn't care.

A new call ecoed through the station. It was something big. A fire in a shed. People were working at the time, so there were many likely victims. You were anxious, just as you were before any call, but you were ready for it. You were born ready.

"Be careful," Buck told you before you got off the truck and you nodded. You were always careful "I love you"

You turned surprised to Buck, you'd never said that to each other before. It disconcerted you.

"Buck, I-"

Before you could say anything, you heard Bobby calling you to give instructions and you had to run.

I love you.

The words echoed in your head as you entered the burning building. No one had ever said that to you. You didn't even know the weight those words carried.

"Sir, follow this path and the fireman will take you to the exit."

It was so hot. You'd already lost count of how many people you'd pulled out of the line of fire. Your head was heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Evacuate the building now," you could hear Cap saying over the radio. Everyone agreed and gave their location. You were about to respond when you heard something.

It was a call for help.

You could have sworn it was a call for help.

"Captain, I'm in the east side, I hear someone screaming for help. I'm close, I can get them out"

"Negative, the building will collapse at any moment. Get out immediately"

Your vision was blurred.

I love you.

You couldn't go out and leave those people to die, so you went ahead. The way to the door was difficult, there was a lot of rubble, and when you opened it, you froze in place.

It was empty. The fire danced in front of you, mocking you. But the cries for help... you've never been so wrong before.

I love you.

“It’s empty” you murmured at the radio.

Bobby was shouting your name from the other end of the radio. You turned around, but it was so hard to breathe. You tried to find your way back, but everything was spinning. Buck was now calling your name.

I love you.

His words were running through your head. Your steps were now slow. The way out, you couldn't find the way out. You could hear the fire laughing at you. Stupid. Pathetic. You heard an explosion behind you, and it threw you off balance, bringing you to the ground. You'd been walking through fire all your life, and now it would finally take its place back. Your siren buzzed in your ears. That would be the end of you.

I love you too, Buck.

The moment Buck came out of the building and didn't see you outside, he tried to go back. But hands held him in place.

This couldn't be happening. No, no.

Bobby called your name on the radio and you didn't answer. It's empty. That was the last answer they got. You weren't answering. An explosion. On the east side, where you were.

Buck's knees gave way, and he went down. All eyes were on the exit of the building waiting for you, waiting for a miracle. But it never came.

Buck screamed, and he would scream until his lungs gave up.

Time seemed to stop. Buck's screams were the only noise to be heard. And another explosion. Tears rolled down trough some faces. No one could believe it. This couldn't be happening.

Buck couldn't lose you like this.

"We found her" some voice echoed over the radio.

Buck's heart could stop any second now.

But the building was collapsing.

He broke free from his friends and ran into the building, dodging all the fallen and burnt obstacles, and he saw you. You were in the arms of a fireman. He ran up to you and carried you out of the building. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the building collapsed. Buck held you in his arms with all his strength and ran, feeling the debris fly past you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of your lips when he put you on the stretcher and he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours.

Buck analyzed each of your wounds alongside Hen and Chim and you could see the tears streaming down Buck's face, the ones that were also streaming down your own.

You were still struggling to breathe, every inch of your body ached, and you felt on the verge of losing consciousness. Until you succumbed to the darkness that was calling your name.

You woke up a few hours later in hospital. Your hands were being squeezed and you could feel something wet running down over them. Tears.

Buck had his face in your hands, he had never felt so afraid before. And when he heard your voice calling him, it was as if he could finally breathe.

"I'm sorry, Buck, I-I don't know what happened-"

"I almost lost you today"

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You did this to him, your recklessness, your impulsive behavior. It was your fault.

"I'm sorry"

Tears were now streaming down your face and he moved closer, running his hands gently down your cheeks.

"I was terrified of losing you. I'd die if I do."

"I would never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Buck. And I'll love you to death"

"Please don't let it be soon"

You smiled. No one had ever loved you like that.

"It won't."

#911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #911 fanfic #buck x reader #buck imagines

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