#my mind is racing with worst case scenario thoughts

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not Hangman To Her – Jake "Hangman" Seresin

"We are about to embark on an emergency rescue mission," Maverick said. Instantly, all of the pilots straightened up as he continued. "The U.S.S. Reynolds set off three days ago. Their mission was supposed to be simple but it took a bad turn. After a dogfight, three out of their four pilots were killed."

"What about the fourth?" Rooster asked.

"She's MIA," Maverick sighed. "We are close to her last known coordinates. We've been asked to complete a search and rescue."

"Who's the pilot?" Phoenix asked.

"Her name is Lieutenant Y/F/N Y/L/N."

Hangman's heart jumped into his throat when Maverick put the pilot's picture on the screen. His mind raced as his eyes and thoughts were glued to the girl he met in training.

Y/N? There's no way she would be mixed up in all this. She's the best pilot. Whatever happened was not pilot error. Y/N didn't do anything to put her in this position. She's too. . . perfect to make a mistake that would cost her her life or the lives of her team.

"Hangman."

Hangman jumped when Rooster walked by, kicking his shoe. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Hangman said, clearing his throat.

"You sure?" Payback scoffed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Do you know someone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?" Phoenix asked.

"No," he said a little too quickly. "Why would I know anyone on the U.S.S. Reynolds?"

Before his team could tell he was lying, he left the room. He went back to his bunk and slammed the door shut behind him. Hangman frantically searched through his stuff, and at the very bottom, finally found the picture of him and Y/N in training.

~ • ~

"Keep up, Seresin!" Y/N laughed as she ran ahead of me.

As fast as I pumped my legs, I could never outrun Y/N. Then again, I didn't try to. I couldn't help but like the feeling I got when she bragged about being the better pilot. I loved how happy she got as she excitedly jumped around after beating me. I liked that it made her so happy.

"I win again!" Y/N giggled as she jumped and spun around. "Say it. Say that I am faster than you, Seresin. Say it. Say it. Say it."

I pretended to be angry as she jogged around me and chanted for me to say it. I didn't mind saying it but she expected me to push back, so I did.

"If I say it, will you stop circling me?"

Y/N stopped right in front of me. She smiled cheekily at me as she bounced on her toes. "Did you have something to say to me, Seresin?"

"You are the faster runner, Y/L/N," I recited just for her. "You're better than me."

"And don't you forget it!" She giggled as she went back to jumping up and down. Suddenly, her ankle gave out. I instantly caught her and pulled her close to my chest.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice soft.

"I think so," she said slowly.

"Are you sure?" I asked, starting to panic. "Maybe I should take a look at it. Here, sit down and I will. . ."

"I'm fine, Jake," Y/N chuckled as she patted my shoulder.

She turned away from me and stretched her legs as I overthought the last 2 minutes. The thought of Y/N in pain made me want to do anything I could to make sure she wasn't in it anymore.

I'd do anything to make sure Y/N was happy, healthy, and safe.

~ • ~

Hangman snapped out of the memory, his hands shaking as he held the picture. The idea that Y/N was out there somewhere, lost and alone, filled him with more fear than he knew what to do with.

"She's okay," he mumbled to himself. "She's safe. We are going to find her. We are going to find her. I will find you, Y/N, I promise."

* * * * *

The next few hours went by in a blur for Hangman. The ship changed course toward Y/N's last known location. When they got there, Hangman and a few others took off in their planes and began searching the water for any sign of Y/N or her plane.

As he searched, all Hangman could do was think of the worst-case scenarios.

What if they're looking in the wrong area? What if they find her plan but not her? What if they find her but it's too late? What if they find her and get her back to the ship, but can't save her? What if he never finds her? What if he loses her? What if he loses her before he gets a chance to tell her how he feels?

"We got her!" Rooster yelled, pulling Hangman out of his spiral.

"Well, we got pieces of her plane," Payback sighed.

Hangman quickly turned around and flew to them. He started searching the sea for any sign of the girl he was crazy about. Finally, his eyes landed on something that instantly burned into his brain - Y/N unconscious on a piece of her plane.

"I got her," he said, his voice not nearly loud enough. He cleared his throat and tried again but louder this time. "She's over here!"

"Maverick, we got her! We need a search and rescue party now!"

"Stay there," Maverick instructed through their headsets. "We're sending one to your coordinates now."

Hangman didn't move his plane an inch. Instead, he stayed right where he was and kept a close eye on Y/N's unconscious body. He wanted nothing more than to dive into that water and swim to her. Instead, he hovered close enough to keep an eye on her as the ship sent a medical boat to their location. Hangman watched as the divers pulled her out of the water and safely onto the boat.

Once they had her, Hangman sped back to the ship. He landed and instantly jumped out of his plane and ran as fast as he could to the infirmary. When he got there, they were just bringing her in.

"Y/N?" Hangman panicked. His heart jumped into his throat when he caught a glimpse of her unconscious and pale body.

"Woah, stop," Maverick said as he grabbed Hangman before he could run into the exam room. "The doctors have her. They will do whatever they can to help her."

Hangman looked behind Maverick to see the exam doors close, separating him from the girl of his dreams.

"They will come get us as soon as they have any news about Lieutenant Y/L/N's status," he said with a knowing look in his eyes. Maverick wasn't sure how Hangman and Y/N were connected, but one look at the worry in his eyes and Maverick knew there was something.

"I just want to. . . I wish there was. . ." Hangman stuttered. "I just want to help her, Mav."

"All we can do now is relax and wait," Maverick said gently. Maverick studied him briefly before finally asking, "How well do you know Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

"Y/N and I were in training camp together," Hangman sighed as he sat in a nearby chair. "Some guys in our group were giving her a hard time. I defended her and after that, we got close. We ran together, trained together, studied together. We did everything together until we got our orders to ship out. We were sent to different ships and. . . I haven't talked to her since she shipped out. I tried to keep track of her but. . ."

Maverick waited for him to continue, but Hangman got distracted by his memories. Maverick sat next to him and gently patted his shoulder. "The good news is we found her," Maverick tried to comfort him. "The doctor told me that he thinks we got to her just in time."

"That's good," Hangman said numbly, "I guess."

The rest of their team slowly trickled in as they waited. Two hours later, the doctor finally came out.

"How is she?" Hangman panicked as he jumped up and met the doctor.

"She's okay," the doctor reassured. "She's dehydrated, a little sunburned, and has a slight concussion from the crash. Honestly, she should be way worse. She's extremely lucky."

"So, she's going to be okay?" Hangman double-checked.

"She's going to be fine," he nodded. "All she needs is a couple of good nights' sleep and some healthy meals. She should be back on her feet in a few days. I would, however, recommend that she not return to her ship just yet."

"Why not?" Bob asked.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "if we send her back to her ship, they will most likely put her back in a plane. She may be physically alright, but we have no idea how she is mentally. And that's something we can't check or test until she wakes up."

"Thank you," Maverick said, shaking the doctor's hand before he went back to Y/N.

"Wait," Hangman said, jogging to catch up to the doctor. "Is there. . . I was just wondering. . . I know her and. . . I was hoping. . ."

"She's not awake," the doctor said gently, "but you can sit by her bed until she does."

Hangman took that invitation and instantly went into Y/N's room. When he saw her asleep in the bed, his heart broke. He numbly walked over and collapsed into the chair next to the bed. He scanned her, searching for any injuries. She had a pretty big gash on her forehead, pieces of glass were taken out of her face, and she had bruises across her chest from her harness.

With shaking hands, Hangman reached over and gently grabbed Y/N's hand. "I'm right here, Y/N," he whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere until you wake up."

* * * * *

Y/N was unconscious for the next 14 hours. Hangman stayed by her side the entire time. His crew tried to get him to leave, but he refused. He barely ate and didn't sleep as he waited for her to wake up. He was starting to fall asleep when he felt her hand tighten around his.

"Y/N?" He whispered.

"Jake?" Hangman instantly leaned forward when he heard her beautiful voice whisper his name. "What are we. . . I thought you were. . . Where am I?"

"It's okay," he instantly soothed. "What matters is that you're safe. What do you remember?"

"I don't know," she said, shakily. "It was supposed to be a simple mission. But. . . I was shot down."

Hangman tightened his grip on her hand and scooted closer to her. He watched, his heart breaking as she remembered what happened. When the tears started streaming down her face, he gently caught one with his thumb. He kept his hand on her face as he tried to comfort her.

"Y/N," he said gently, "everything's okay. You're safe, okay? We found you and we are going to take care of you."

"Jake?" Her voice broke. He moved his hand from her face and scooted closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"Were you the one that found me?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I just. . . My whole team was there."

"But you found me," she said, already knowing the answer. "Right?"

Hangman laughed awkwardly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I knew it," she chuckled weakly. Hangman felt his face burn as she smiled at him.

"How'd you know?" He chuckled.

"I like to think I know you pretty well, Seresin."

Hangman smiled when he remembered why she never liked calling him Hangman. She actually hated his callsign. She always said it didn't fit him. And when it came to her, she was right. He'd never hang her out to dry.

"Because," she continued, "You always find me when I'm in trouble."

"I would've searched the entire ocean for you," Hangman mumbled. Y/N's face softened when she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"Jack," she whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her. He didn't fight her as she pulled him down so he was lying next to her.

"I'm really glad you found me," she whispered, cuddling into his chest.

"Me too," he mumbled as he looked down and saw the exhaustion in her eyes. "I promise I won't let you out of my sight this time."

She let out a small giggle causing him to tighten his arms around her.

"I've really missed you, Seresin."

He looked at her and watched her eyes flutter closed. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I've really missed you too, Y/L/N."

[heartshattering]

One song and two Wikipedia articles later and now I'm getting catastrophic thoughts again 🙃

[bunny-1111]

I LOVE UR STORIES

could you write hufflepuff reader meeting theos friends for the first time?

Of course, I can! Thank you for the request. This is my first time writing for anything Hufflepuff, I tried my best. My inbox is always open for suggestions so I can improve and write as specifically as you like!

THEO NOTT X HUFFLEPUFF!READER

2.6k words, fluff.

...

Not edited or reread, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated my loves <3

....

You stood not too far from the entrance of the Slytherin common room, fingers nervously twisting the hem of your jumper as the low hum of conversation reached your ears. 

You were here in Theo’s world, at its opening.

When Theodore had asked you to meet his friends, you knew it was important to him, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite belong. You tugged at the sleeve of your jumper, eyes darting to Theo for reassurance.

You couldn’t stop pacing.

Back and forth across the stretch of the corridor, your fingers twisted in the hem of your jumper, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t seem to stop or even quiet down.

“They’re going to hate me.”

Theo, leaning against the cold stone wall, watched you with a patient expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wore that familiar look of quiet amusement like he was waiting for you to finish running through every possible worst-case scenario before telling you that none would happen.

“Have you finished your marathon of the corridor yet? You’re making me dizzy, baby, you have no reason to freak like this” he teases gently

“I’m not freaking!” You insisted as you spun around to face him, your eyes wide and slightly panicked. “What if they think I’m boring? Or I can’t keep up with conversation o-or too different, too Hufflepuff? What if they look at me and wonder what you’re doing with someone like me?”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Too Hufflepuff?”

“Yes! Too-” you took a breath before continuing, “nice. Or quiet. Or something.” You groaned, running a hand through your hair. 

“I mean, have you seen them? Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson? They’re—well, they’re intimidating. They’re the kind of people who could look at you and make you feel two inches tall without even saying a word.”

“They’re not that bad,” Theo said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “And they’re not going to make you feel two inches tall.”

“They might!” you protested

“I am intimidating, darling? I’m one of them, too, remember?” he teased 

“You can be, actually, Theodore. It’s different alright” you huff

The nerves bubbled up again as you resumed pacing. “What if they think I’m some—some soft little Hufflepuff who can’t hold her own? What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

Theo’s expression softened at that, and before you could spiral further, he grabbed your wrist gently to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling you close until you stood between his legs, his hands resting lightly on your waist. 

“First of all, you are good enough. More than good enough. They’re going to like you because I like you.” His voice was calm and reassuring, like the steadying weight of a blanket when you couldn’t stop overthinking. He balanced you.

You bit your lip, glancing down at your feet. “I just don’t want to embarrass you.”

Theo tilted his head, his brow furrowed slightly. “You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried.”

You managed a small smile, though your stomach still twisted with nerves. “I just… they’re your friends. I want them to like me.”

Theo’s gaze softened further, his eyes filled with quiet affection as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “They’re going to love you,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of your heart. Theo had a way of doing that, making everything feel just a little less terrifying when you were with him. 

They were the opposite of everything you were used to. You were soft-spoken, more comfortable with a book in your lap and a cup of tea than bantering or exchanging sharp remarks in a dimly lit common room. You wished in that moment that you had more wit, more anything really.

“Alright,” Theo said, straightening up and giving your hand a final squeeze before leading you down the dim corridor. “Ready?”

“They’re all—” You hesitated, your voice soft. “They’re all so—” Slytherin. You left the word unspoken, but Theo understood. He always did.

“They’re protective of me,” Theo said, and you could hear the affection in his voice. “But that just means they’ll be protective of you, too.” He smiled, the corners of his lips quirking upward in that way that always made your heart flutter. “Besides, I think they’ve been dying to meet the girl who’s turned me into a sap.”

You flushed, the warmth of his teasing easing some of your nerves. “I haven’t turned you into a sap.”

His lips twitched, eyes glinting with amusement. “Whatever you say, Hufflepuff.”

Before you could protest, he led you forward, keeping your hand tightly in his.

“I want you to meet them, too, y-know,” he had said, his voice low and soft, the way it always was when he was coaxing you into something you weren’t sure about. His hand had brushed against yours in the hallway, a quiet reminder of his presence, as if you could ever forget.

And so, here you were, standing just a step behind him, your Hufflepuff yellow standing out in a sea of emerald and silver.

The low-lit room starkly contrasted to the bright, open spaces of the Hufflepuff common room. Here, the walls seemed to lean in a little closer, the air thick with an intimacy you weren’t sure you belonged in.

As soon as you walked in, the room felt even smaller than it had in your imagination. The firelight flickered against the dark green and silver tones, casting long shadows over the walls. A few students lounged on the couches and chairs, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Mattheo leaning against the mantle, Draco perched on one of the armrests beside him. Blaise was already sprawled on the couch with Pansy tucked under his arm, her sharp gaze immediately landing on you.

They all stopped what they were doing when they noticed Theo, and then their eyes flicked to you.

Your nerves spiked an all time high. 

“They’re staring at me,” you muttered under your breath to Theo, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure they could hear it.

“They’re just curious,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And they’re waiting for me to introduce you.”

You swallowed hard and tried to keep your smile from trembling as Theo’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze. “Well we’re here now so you lot can finally stop nagging me about this introduction, and yes I’m looking at you, Zabini” Theo beamed pointing towards Blaise 

Blaise was the first to speak, lounging lazily across the couch. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show off his girl,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as his dark eyes flicked over you. “I was beginning to think you didn’t actually exist, Y/N.”

“Finally!” Enzo grinned, sitting up slightly as he looked you over. “now a face to the name.”

Draco’s cool gaze swept over you, but there was no malice in it, just curiosity. “So, you're the secret he's hidden from us,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “About time, Nott.”

Theo sat down on one of the empty chairs, and after a moment’s hesitation, you followed suit, sitting beside him. He rested his hand on your knee, a subtle gesture of comfort, and you relaxed slightly under his touch.

Your eyes widened slightly at how they were all so focused on you. You could feel the words bubbling up, all your anxiety about this moment suddenly spilling out before you could stop it.

Enzo, sitting cross-legged on the floor, grinned up at you, his easygoing nature a sharp contrast to the more serious expressions of the others. “You look terrified,” he said with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re not that bad, promise.”

You stopped yourself, taking a shaky breath. “I’m just a little intimidated.” you almost laughed

There was a beat of silence, and you wanted to melt into the floor, but then Mattheo, who had been watching you with a serious expression, chuckled softly. “You don’t need to be intimidated,” he said, his voice a little rough but not unkind. “We don’t bite.”

“Most of the time,” Blaise added with a teasing grin, earning an elbow from Pansy.

You blinked, surprised by how their teasing wasn’t as sharp or biting as you’d feared. They weren’t making fun of you but trying to make you feel comfortable. 

Draco leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “You’re with Theo,” he said simply. “That means you’re with us now. No need to be nervous.”

Your breath fluttered at the unexpected warmth in his tone, and something inside you relaxed. Theo’s hand was still in yours, and you could feel him watching you, his quiet presence steadying you.

And just like that, you found yourself smiling, the knot in your stomach loosening as you spoke again, this time with a little more confidence. “I just didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted softly. “But, um, I’m delighted to be here.” you smile

You’ll get used to us,” Blaise said with a shrug, his casual tone almost reassuring. “We’re not all bad.”

Mattheo grinned, his usual dark demeanor lightening as he caught your eye. “Yeah, once you survive a few Quidditch matches with us, you’re practically family.”

Mattheo nodded, his gaze still fixed on you. “So what do you do, Hufflepuff?” he asked, though there was no challenge in his voice. It was a genuine question, his curiosity piqued.

“Oh, well, I love reading,” you said, your voice softening as you began to talk about something familiar. “Mostly novels—fantasy, mysteries, things like that. But I also love writing in my free time, you know, just stories about anything that pops into my head. Theo gets annoyed when I spend too much time on it, I get lost in it sometimes. Minutes become hours, that sort of thing”

As you spoke, the nerves you’d been feeling faded, replaced by the warmth that always filled you when you talked about the things you loved. “Big fan of herbology too; Professor Sprout and I get up to some fascinating stuff.”

You hadn’t noticed that the others had gone quiet, listening intently as your voice grew more animated. Even Draco, usually stoic and guarded, seemed genuinely interested.

Theo’s eyes hadn’t left you the entire time. He watched as you opened up, his expression softening into something so tender it made your heart skip. There was a quiet pride in his gaze, the kind that made you feel safe, like no matter what, he was always going to be there, silently rooting for you.

Mattheo nodded approvingly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah I like herbology too, not your kind, but our first commonish ground” he said, with a grin pulling the ends of his lips

Pansy smirked, leaning forward with her sharp eyes twinkling. “I like to read too, we can go to the library together sometime soon”

You smiled, “Sure.”

Theo’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hand, and you glanced at him, finding him watching you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with something so deep and warm it made your heart swell.

The conversation picked up again after that, the group falling back into their usual rhythm, though you could feel their occasional glances in your direction. It wasn’t as bad as you had feared, though. Theo’s friends weren’t as intimidating as they seemed at first. Well, maybe Pansy was, but even she had softened after her initial teasing.

Blaise asked you a few questions, mostly harmless ones about classes and Quidditch, and though you were still a little shy, you answered as best as you could. He seemed amused by your nervousness, but not in a cruel way.

Before you knew it, it had reached just before curfew. Theo stood up, his hand still gently wrapped around yours. 

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though he didn't want to disrupt the calm that had finally settled over you. The soft flicker of firelight caught the warmth in his eyes, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

You said your goodbyes, much more confident now than when you’d arrived. Pansy waved with a smile, and Blaise offered you a wink, his playful teasing from earlier now feeling like a distant memory. Even Draco, in his own subtle way, had seemed to warm to you. 

"Don't be a stranger, Hufflepuff," Mattheo called out with a crooked grin as you and Theo approached the door. You gave him a slight nod in return, still a little shy but much more at ease than you'd been at the start of the evening.

Once outside the cool dungeon corridor, Theo’s hand found yours again, pulling you close to his side.

“See?” he said quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I told you they’d like you.”

You smiled, leaning into him as you walked. “Yeah,” you admitted softly, your heart feeling light for the first time all evening. "I’m not sure 'like' is the word I’d use just yet," you teased lightly. "But they were welcoming. I had a good time tonight."

Theo chuckled, his hand still holding yours as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. "They do like you," he repeated, a little more firmly this time. "But I like you most, and I’m happy you all got along, still wanna keep you for myself, though," he said before he placed what felt like a thousand kisses around your face.

You giggle against his kisses. It wasn’t just what he said, but the quiet confidence in his tone, the way he made you feel so effortlessly secure. "You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?" you said softly, leaning into him a little more.

"Comes with the territory," he quipped, flashing you a brief smile, but there was a sincerity behind his eyes that told you he wasn’t just being flippant. He meant it, every word.

As you reached the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, you turned to face him, not quite ready to say goodbye just yet. Theo leaned against the stone wall, watching you with that familiar, soft gaze, his hands slipping into his pockets as he waited.

"Thank you for tonight" you said quietly, the words feeling like they didn’t quite capture everything you felt. 

Theo’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression turning serious for a moment. "You don’t have to thank me," he said, his voice gentle. "I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant making you feel more at home."

You smiled a soft, genuine smile that reached your eyes. "You do, you know. Make me feel at home."

Theo’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, he looked like he was about to say something more, something deeper, but he stopped himself, simply nodding instead. "Good."

"I’m gonna miss you once you get to your dorm you know that?" Theo smiled, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost invisible, but it sent a warmth spreading through you all the same.

"I miss you already, and you haven’t even left me yet, Teddy," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, before he crashed his lips to yours

With one last lingering kiss, you turned and gave the password to the barrel that led into your common room. As the door creaked open, you stepped inside but couldn’t resist glancing back at Theo one last time.

He was still there, his eyes glued to you, following you with affection. And as the door swung shut between you, you were both right. You did already miss him, and surprising yourself, you were excited to spend some more time with his friends.

[sweetbans29]

Hesitation - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Carrying a lot of baggage, Caitlin's patience shows you there is hope (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Caitlin with kids (yes in my mind this is a warning)

Word Count: 4.7k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Our girl is too cute when it comes to kids...tell me I'm wrong. This is also set in like 2027...

"Mommy! Come on, Mommy!" Carson yells as he is dragging you through a crowd of people trying to get to the front of the crowd. The grip you have on his hand is frightening, you could feel his little hand begin to slip out of yours.

"Baby, slow down," you say in a rush as your heart begins to race. His hand completely leaves yours as you begin to panic.

"Carson!" You yell pushing past people. You can feel your throat closing as more seconds pass without Carson by your side. You mutter 'excuse me' as you continue to make your way up to the railing. When you reach the railing, Carson is nowhere to be seen.

You eyes frantically scan the crowd, looking for you little boy. When your eyes land on his curly hair you feel your whole body ease. You watch as he turns around and looks at to ground as you approach him.

Running up to him and sweeping him into your arms, you finally are able to breath.

"Sweetie, you can't run away like that," you say as his arms come to wrap around his neck. "Are you okay? You scared me baby." You are too caught up in the moment to see who is standing in front of you.

"I'm sorry Mommy," you little boy says. "But look!" Carson yells as he swings and points at someone. You are still too caught up in making sure he is truly okay. The time you were away from him wasn't enough for something to happen but your mind went to the worst case scenario.

"I would have made sure he got back to you," a voice says and your eyes finally meet.

You stand there speechless as the Fever guard looks at you with a soft smile.

"It's Clarky!" Carson yells in excitement. Caitlin smiles at the nickname coming from the little boy.

"I'm Caitlin," she says as she extends a hand. It is extended for an awkward amount of time before your hand meets her. You laugh at the fact that she introduces herself when the whole arena knows exactly who she is. You introduce yourself and then Carson.

Caitlin's only thought is how soft your hands are. She hears her name being called by Lyss as they are about to be called out.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Caitlin. Good luck," you say.

"Go Clarky!" Carson yells, causing Caitlin to give off a goofy grin. As she walks back to the court she can't help but look back where you were standing. She sees you walking back to your seat, making note of where you were heading, and sees Carson waving at her. Caitlin offers the little boy a wave as his head drops to your shoulder.

Caitlin doesn't know why but her heart swells. She turns away smiling once again as she thinks about how Clarky might be her favorite nickname.

The game is the most exciting of the season yet. You watch as Caitlin and Aliyah lead the Fever to another win in Gainbridge. Carson, like every game, having the time of his life. After the team secures the dub, Carson is asking if he can go back down to the railing.

"You already got her autograph baby," you tell him.

"I wanna give Claky a high-five," Carson says. You lean over to him and adjust his glasses that are slightly crooked and smile at him. How could you say no to his cute little face.

"Okay, but you are staying right by my side," you say as you lead Carson down to the railing next to the team's tunnel.

You put Carson right in front of you as your legs box him in against the railing. He sticks his little arm out and you see his hand rotate back and forth as he waits for the team to walk past. You can't help but smile at your boy as the team begins to walk by.

Lexie is the first to give him a high-five, then followed by KLS. One by one the Fever team heads back, Caitlin being one of the last to make her way through the tunnel.

Caitlin is typically one of the first people back to the locker but she took her time on the court greeting people and secretly scanning the crowd. She takes time looking at the section she saw you make your way back to only to come up empty handed.

When she finally decides to give up, she makes her way back when she stops to sign a few more autographs. Rarely looking up as she makes her way down the line. That is until she is met with a little hand and a familiar nickname.

"Clarky!" Carson yells with a smile that could turn anyones bad day into a good one.

"Carson!" Caitlin yells in equal excitement.

"Mommy! Clarky knows me name," Carson says with pure excitement. You look down at him and rustle his hair.

"She does sweetie," you say.

Caitlin turns to her security and whispers something to them and they give her a nod.

"Hey Carson, how would you like to come and meet the Fever team?" Caitlin says and then looks up at you. "But only if Mommy is okay with that."

Hearing Caitlin refer to you as Mommy has more of an affect on you than you ever realized it would. You know it is completely innocent, but you feel your cheeks heat up.

"Mommy, can I? Can I?" Carson is jumping up and down and pulling at the bottom of your shirt.

"And you would be there too, of course," Caitlin says, her eyes meeting yours. You keep the contact for a second - everything else falling away and you know you are in trouble. You slowly nod and before you know it security is leading you through the tunnel.

Carson's hand is in yours as he swings your connected arms in excitement. Caitlin wants to get in on the action but doesn't want to overstep. That is until Carson's free hand comes and grabs Caitlin's, starting to swing the newly connected pair.

Caitlin can't help but smile as she lets Carson swing away. The trio walks into the locker room and Carson's eyes light up.

"Team, we have some visitors," Caitlin says. Lexie is the first to come up and introduce herself. The team come up one by one saying hi and having little conversations with Carson. You watch as Carson is on cloud nine.

While you are watching Carson, Caitlin is watching you. She watches how you smile any time Carson smiles. She watches how you are never more than an arms length from the little guy. She watches as your hands run through his curls and she wonders what it would be like to have such soft hands run through her own hair.

"Okay baby, I think we should let the team get to their meeting. Can you say thank you to everyone?" You tell Carson and he lets out a giant 'thank you'. In the few minutes you have been there, the whole team has fallen in love with Carson and his quirky personality. He balances the quirkiness and sweetness well.

"I'll walk you out," Caitlin says, not wanting your time to be up just yet.

The three of you walk out and she stops right before heading back out to the court.

"Thank you for this, it was not necessary but I know you have made Carson's whole year," you say to Cait. She smiles at the thought.

"Of course, I love getting to do things like this," Caitlin says as she watches Carson look at the basketball the team had signed and given him. "You have a special one there."

You smile at Caitlin's words, a fact you knew since the day he was born.

"I know, don't know what I did to deserve him," you say looking at Carson with so much love in your eyes.

Caitlin takes the moment to look at you, she feels like she could look at you forever. She looks down but doesn't see a ring on your left hand and decides to be bold.

"I'd like to see you again," Caitlin says, eyes now back to yours.

"Well we are season pass holders, so I am sure Carson will be looking to give you another high-five," you say with a little laugh, thinking back to how a high-five led to meeting the whole team.

"I don't mean at a game," Caitlin says, hoping you would take the hint.

You look at her, head tilting a little but then realizing what she was was saying.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"Just think about it," Caitlin says as she hands you a little piece of paper with her number on it. You hesitate but end up taking it.

Before you can say anything, Carson comes running to hug Caitlin's legs.

Caitlin leans down and gives your boy a real hug.

You say your final thank yous and goodbyes before parting ways.

That night, after putting Carson down, you lay in bed looking at the piece of paper. Your phone is next to you but you haven't moved to pick it up. You just stare at the 10 digits. It was a bad idea. Thinking back to your last relationship and the fact that you are no longer thinking just for yourself, decided it was a bad idea. You put the piece of paper on your side table along with your phone and get some much needed sleep.

You can't take Carson to the next few Fever games which you feel bad about but have plans to go to the next one in a few days.

You have the day off and decide to take Carson to the park. You are watching him on the playground when you feel someone come up and take a seat next to you. You give a quick glance then turn your gaze back to Carson. It isn't until a moment after that you realize it is a familiar face.

"Hi there," a smiling Caitlin Clark says.

"Hi," you say with a polite smile.

"You never called," she says, her eyes never leaving yours.

You turn to get eyes on Carson and also to ease the tension Caitlin is so clearly bringing into the conversation.

"You told me to think about it and I did," you say remembering your thoughts.

"And you didn't call," Caitlin says, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Well, even though I didn't call, you got your wish," you say with a little smile. A smile makes its way to Caitlin and she nods.

"I did," Caitlin says. "And I am glad considering you didn't call."

You roll your eyes as you see Carson run over.

"Clarky!" Carson yells as he practically throws himself at Caitlin.

"Hey little man!" Caitlin says matching his energy.

You sit there and watch as Carson tells Cait all about his imaginary world that he build while being at the park. Before you know it, he is running back to the slides and it is you and Caitlin alone again.

"Carson really likes you," you say to Caitlin as Carson waves back to the two of you, knowing he is really just waving at Cait.

"I like him, he is a sweetheart," she says. "How old is he?"

"He's 5," you say looking at your little boy.

"And how long have you and his dad been together?" Caitlin asks boldly. She doesn't know what it is about you but she has now made several bold moves with you.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You say teasing the girl.

"I would, that's why I asked," she says with a little laugh. You like her laugh.

"Carson's dad and I are not together, haven't been since before Carson made his debut," you say.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says and you shrug.

"What happened?" Caitlin's curiosity getting the better of her.

Before you can answer, Carson is running over telling you he is hungry. Caitlin sees your time coming to an end. She helps as you pack up your stuff.

"It was great seeing you," you tell Caitlin.

"Can Clarky come to lunch with us?" Carson asks. Caitlin gives you a look, waiting to follow your lead.

"Oh Sweetie, I don't think today is a good day," you say and Caitlin hides her disappointment well.

"Next time?" Carson asks.

"Maybe next time baby," you tell him as you ruffle his hair. He nods with a smile.

You look over at Caitlin.

"When do I get to see you again?" Caitlin asks.

"You are a persistent little thing," you say but give the girl props.

"It's all Carson," she says.

"And to think I thought you wanted to see me," you tease.

Caitlin liking the light flirting going on between the two of you, reaches up and brushes a strand of hair that the wind blew across your face. You freeze as she fixes it, then brushes her thumb across your cheek.

"We will be at the game this weekend," you say and Caitlin smiles.

"Another chance for me to ask you out," she says. You shake your head with a little laugh.

"Bye Caitlin," you say as you and Carson make your way home.

"Bye Clarky!" Carson yells with an adorable wave.

"Bye little man!" Caitlin waves back.

"Mommy! Clarky called me lit-tle man," Carson says to you with a giant smile.

Caitlin hears Carson's remark and can't help but watch you until you are out of sight. She makes her way back to her apartment and opens up IG. She heads to her recent search history and clicks on your profile. She scrolls through the photos and clicks on a photo of you and Carson laughing. She looks at how much joy each of you holds and only hopes to be apart of that in the future.

Saturday rolls around and the Fever are back in Gainbridge. You decide to take Carson to the game early to watch the team warm up. You are surprised as each member of the team comes up to give Carson a high-five and say hi to him.

Caitlin comes over and messes up Carson's hair.

"Little man! How would you like to come out onto the court?" Caitlin asks and Carson lights up brighter than a Christmas tree. He nods his head with speed. Caitlin looks at you for approval and you nod. She lifts Carson over the handrail and takes his hand as they jog over to the court.

You watch as Caitlin passes him a ball which he begins to dribble in a circle. She helps him with his form and tells him to pass it to her. Carson throws the ball at Caitlin and she puts it up, draining a three. Carson runs around cheering and you take you phone out to record the moment.

You watch as Caitlin is practically perfect with Carson and it makes you question why you are still hesitant to let Caitlin into your life.

Caitlin brings Carson back over, leaning on the rail after passing Carson back to you. He sit in his seat as you give him an apple sauce.

"That was very sweet," you say.

"You'll have to send me that video," Caitlin says, happy you will finally have a reason to use the number she gave you.

"Okay Clark," you say and she holds her hand up.

"It is Clarky to you," she says with a smile. You return the smile.

"Okay, Clarky," you say. "If you put up 30 points this game, I'll do you one better."

She quirks her eyebrow, intrigued by your proposal.

"Put up 30 and I'll use your number to set up dinner," you say and Caitlin lights up.

"A date?" Caitlin asks with a wide smile on her face.

"Dinner," you clarify, still hesitant but willing.

"Deal, I will take what I can get," she says. You extend your hand to shake on it and Caitlin meets you half way. Her thumb rubbing the soft skin of your hand before letting it go.

Caitlin returns to the court and the game begins. She has 11 in the first quarter and you can see the work she is putting in. You would like to think you played a little part in her dominant start but don't get your hopes up.

Caitlin has her 30 points in the third and you sit in the fact that you are going to be scheduling dinner with the all-star.

The game ends with the Fever win. You don't wait around at the end of the game due to both your hunger and Carson's. Caitlin looks everywhere for the two of you but never finds you - she would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed.

It is later that evening when Caitlin hears her phone go off.

[Unknown number: Looks like I owe you dinner]

[Clarky: Looks like you do]

[Clarky: What did you have in mind?]

[Carson's Mom: Do you have plans tomorrow?]

[Clarky: I'm all yours]

You send a time and address. When that time rolls around Caitlin is knocking on your door.

She had actually arrived about 15 minutes ago but sat in her car when she realized she would be having dinner at your house. Part of her was glad that you had chosen a private place to have dinner, so private in fact that the typical wave of anxiousness that she felt about leaked media went flying out the window. But the other part of her was nervous, she hasn't dated anyone since her rookie year.

Once the door opens, Caitlin is met with what at first glance seems like no one.

"Clarky!" Carson yells as he immediately hugs her legs.

"Hi," she says with a little laugh and rubs his back.

"You got me flowers???" He says with pure joy. Caitlin looks at the flowers in her hands and nods. As much as she was hoping you would be answering the door, her heart couldn't help but swell at seeing the excitement on Carson's face.

"I did," she says and she hands him the flowers. Carson runs back to what she imagines to be the kitchen yelling 'mommy' several times. Caitlin closes the door and follows.

When Caitlin sees you in the kitchen, she feels like she could fall in love with you.

"Caitlin!" You say with just as much excitement as Carson did when he answered the door.

Yes, Caitlin is indeed falling in love with you.

"Mommy, Clarky got me flowers." Carson says, showing her the bouquet.

"Wow, those are beautiful. I wish someone got me flowers like that," you say. Caitlin holds back her comment of how she chose this specific bouquet because when she saw it, it reminded her of your smile and the joy it brings her.

"Don't worry Mommy, we can share," Carson says as he hands you the bouquet.

"Thank you baby," you say and them in a vase with water.

Caitlin looks around and by the looks of it, there hasn't been much cooking yet.

"So, Caitlin, have you ever made pasta before?" You ask, setting the the vase down on the table.

"I have not, but I have a feeling I am going to tonight," she says playfully.

"You would be correct," you say and hand her an apron.

The three of you spend the night making pasta and enjoying each others company. You show Caitlin how homemade pasta isn't too hard to make and Carson shows her how good he is a kneading the dough. You through a sauce together as Caitlin and Carson watch over the pasta and set the table. Dinner itself was delicious and the three of you sat around the table laughing and talking about all of Carson's favorite things. When it is time for you to put Carson down, he gives Caitlin a big hug and whispers something in her ear. It causes Cait to smile and whisper something back to him before you swoop him up and take him away.

As you are tucking him in, you ask him what he said to Caitlin.

"I told her I wish we could do this forever," Carson days with a tired smile. "I like having Clarky around, she is funny." Carson then rolls over and your rub his back as she drifts to sleep.

As you sit there rubbing Carson's back, you can't help but think about what it would be like if this was the normal. It has been so long since you have done life with someone other than Carson and you were terrified of changing that. Even in your fear, Caitlin has showed you no reason not to trust her but then again so did Carson's dad.

You head back to the kitchen to see Caitlin drying dishes.

"You didn't have to do that," you say taking a stack of plates and putting them away.

"It's a rule of thumb, one person cooks while the other cleans," she says lightly.

"But we all cooked," you say and she shrugs.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Once the dishes are dried and put away, you grab two wine glasses and grab a bottle.

"Care to join me on the porch?" You ask her and she nods with a smile.

"I would love nothing more," she says following you.

The two of you are sitting on the porch siping wine, looking out at the quiet neighborhood you live in.

"I really enjoyed this not date," Caitlin says which earns her a laugh from you.

"I also really enjoyed this not date," you say. The two of you are sitting side by side on your porch swing. Caitlins arm is slightly touching yours but stays at a respectable distance. A comfortable silence sets in again as Caitlin begins to slowly swing the two of you. You lean into her a little which encourages her to bring her arm up, wrapping it around your shoulder as you lean into her more. It's comfortable.

"You scare me," you say breaking the silence.

Caitlin doesn't say anything, but she begins to brush her thumb along your arm.

"Not necessarily you but the idea of you scares me," you say. "Carson's dad left me when he graduated and I was going into my senior year of college. No warning, no explanation, just decided that one day he was done. It was right after I had found out I was pregnant with Carson."

Caitlin squeezes your arm but remains silent, listening to every word you say.

"I decided not to tell him about the pregnancy because I couldn't stand the thought of him only staying because there was a baby involved. He made it clear he was done with me. My parents told me I needed to tell him since he was the father but when I finally mustered up the courage to tell him, he was already dating somebody else. After having Carson, my life changed for the better. I tried dating a little when Carson was a toddler but being a single mom was a big turn off for a lot of people. It was then that I realized I didn't want or need anyone else because it would be me and Carson against the world."

"I have gotten so comfortable with it being just the two of us. I also know how much people cycling in and out of a child's life can affect them. Carson is such a sweet boy that I would do anything and everything I can to make sure he has what he needs. He pushes me to be a better mom and better person. He understands so much and just enjoys life. He is my reason."

"You scare me because Carson is getting comfortable with you. He's getting comfortable with you and it terrifies me because I don't want there to be a day when I have to tell him we won't ever see you again. It is early enough now that he would remember you but not be too attached, but if I do open up our lives and you enter, I am terrified of how that would affect the two of us. Carson has never experienced heartbreak and he shouldn't have to until he is old enough to date for himself."

You shift to look at Caitlin.

"You scare me because of how amazing you are with him. You don't treat him like he's a child but bring lift him up. You scare me because every time I see you with my son I think about what life would be like if that was the normal. You scare me because I have never felt the way I feel with you, you scare me Caitlin."

You are looking in her eyes and she can see the sorrow and love and conflict all swirling in your eyes. Her arm comes down to hold your hand. You look down at her intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Your fears are real and understandable. You aren't just thinking about you and I completely respect that. I am not here to storm into you life and then leave it once I am satisfied. You are not someone I want to be casual with. I don't want a fling. You are someone I want to pursue."

"I know we are just getting to know each other and we are in a fragile state because you are right, you are not just thinking about yourself, you are also thinking about the best little man this world has ever seen. But even in the little time that we have had with one another, I know you are worth pursuing. I don't plan on going anywhere and we will take this as slow as you want."

"Slow is good," you say looking at her in awe. The fear and anxiety you were feeling have has been suffocated by Caitlin's understanding.

"I can do slow," she says.

You look in her eyes and decide to be bold. You remove her hand from yours, taking both of your wine glasses and putting them on the ground. When your eyes meet hers again you bring your hand up to cup her cheek. Leaning in, you kiss her.

Caitlin's hand finds your neck, pulling you in closer to her as your hand falls to her chest. You pull away from her, just long enough to take in her beauty before kissing her again with a little more heat than before. She pulls you onto her, your legs straddling her on the swing.

Her hands massaging your waist as yours find their way to her hair. Cait's fingers slip under the bottom of your shirt touching your warm skin. You pull apart from her, leaving you both breathing heavy.

"I'm sorry," you say as your begin to move off of her but her grip on your hips tightens. She shakes her head no as she pulls you in for a hug. She wraps arms around you as you lean into her. The two of you stay pressed against each other.

When you finally part it is past midnight.

"I had a really great time tonight," Caitlin says.

"I did too," you say with a light smile.

Caitlin pulls you in for a hug and you let her. She kisses the top of your head.

"I know this was a not-date but I was hoping I could take you out on a real date, when you are ready of course," she says and you let out a little laugh.

"I would like that very much," you say and Caitlin smiles. She wants to kiss you again and you can see that in her eyes. You pat her chest and part from her, taking a few steps back. She feels empty without you in her arms.

"Slow Clarky," you say, now standing in the doorframe.

"Llke I said, I can do slow," she says. "But that doesn't mean it won't be hard."

You blow her a kiss and watch her leave. You close your front door and smile.

AN: I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it! Let me know what you think. And as always, thank your for your love and support 🤍

[nerdy-novelist017]

Benny x bunny, where she faints and she gets taken to the hospital but he wasn't around when she fainted, so once he gets to the hospital and asks what happened she completely downplays it. Also if you could write him getting the call it would be 10/10.

You guys are so self-indulgent and I love it! This was really fun to write so I hope you enjoy! Benny's really just a stressed little muffin in this

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2k

Summary- See request above.

Bruised Ego (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

The cue ball struck against the green stripes, a significant clack echoing in the clubhouse as he sunk the last ball into the pocket. With a smirk around his cigarette, Benny straightened to his full height, hands sliding down the cue stick smugly. 

“That’s two games in a row, kid,” Wahoo groaned as he rounded the pool table to throw another five dollar bill into Benny’s winnings. “You must be lucky.”

“We can see if my luck will make it to an even 3,” Benny chided. He knew it wasn’t luck, Wahoo just sucked at playing pool. The slow afternoon was passed by the few integral members of the Vandals hanging out in the clubhouse, drinking, smoking and razzing each other. There was going to be a race tonight at the club bonfire; some newcomer kid on a piece of shit hand-built bike thought he was going to take on Cal’s racing Harley. Everyone knew he was going to blow him away, but it was still free entertainment and a chance for the club to meet again.

“Yeah fine, but I want the stripes this time.” Wahoo grumbled.

“You know what the definition of insanity is, Wahoo?” Johnny asked over his shoulder. He sat at the bar, counting a few stacks of cash as he and Brucie worked on the finances of this month's dues. 

“Well, your boy keeps doin’ all these trick shots,” Wahoo retorted as he began to rack for the new game. 

“Of course he is,” Johnny looked over his shoulder, smirking. “I taught ‘em how.”

Johnny turned back to his task at hand before he could see the bird Wahoo flipped him. The phone rang from the back of the bar and Cal went to answer it. 

“I’m feeling pretty lucky for this game too,”  Benny laughed as he bent forward to position the first shot. Clack, another shot that sent multiple solid colors spiraling around the table. 

“Benny,” Cal called, holding the phone up. “It’s for you.”

“Okay,” Benny nodded, chalking the end of his cue stick. It was probably you calling to tell him you missed him. You often called him at least once if he was gone for a few hours, your way of checking on him as you worried about him. He’s tried telling you multiple times that you don’t have to worry about him, he’d be more careful because he had you to come home to every night. You promised you'd stop calling so much but he told you he didn't mind hearing your voice so sometimes, you’d call and ask him to pick up something from the store, too. “Tell her I'll be over in a minute.”

“No,” Cal said slowly, voice tight. “It’s Kathy. She said somethin’s happened to Bunny.”

Benny’s heart stopped. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital–”

Johnny turned to Cal and said something – asked a question maybe – but that was all Benny needed to hear before he tossed the cue stick onto the table and turned for the door. He shoved it open and fished his bike keys out of his pocket as he tossed the rest of his cigarette onto the sidewalk. He set off for his bike, throwing his leg over the seat and flipping the ignition switch.

 He brought his foot down onto the kickstart but it only sputtered. He tried it once more. Twice. And Benny felt tears of frustration burning in his eyes as he pictured you laying lifeless in one of those awful hospital beds, every worst case scenario running through his mind.  He kicked it again. “Fucking, c’mon!”

“Benny,” Johnny’s calm but assertive voice cut through the ringing in Benny’s ears. “I’ll drive. Get in.”

He nodded, wanting to say thanks, but he found his mouth too dry to speak, jaw clenched too tightly. He followed Johnny to his car, quickly sliding into the passenger seat. Johnny twisted the key in the ignition, threw it into reverse and peeled out as he drove in the direction of the hospital.

“Kathy said she’s okay,” Johnny assured, his voice composed as Benny’s knee bounced up and down with anxiety. “Said she was up and talkin’ to the doctors.”

“I can’t – I can’t lose–” Benny started but his voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of something happening to you. 

“She’s okay, Benny,” Johnny repeated, firmer this time. “She’s okay.”

******

Benny practically ran through the hospital waiting room to get to the front desk, skidding to a stop and asking the nearest nurse where you were. Johnny had dropped him off at the door, saying he would find a place to park and be in as soon as he could. 

“Benny!” Kathy called out for him down the hall. He abandoned the nurse’s station and approached her. 

“What happened? Where is she?” he asked, swallowing hard in an attempt to control his nerves. 

“I’ll take you to her,” Kathy touched his arm gently and led him down the hallway of ER rooms. “We were outside workin’ in my garden, ya know? A–and she just fell over, like completely onto her face, didn’t even try to catch herself. She hit her head pretty good when she landed so they’re runnin’ some test.”

Benny nodded, trying to process her words in his jumbled brain. She stopped in front of a room and motioned for him to enter. He took a deep breath, hoping his shaking hands weren’t noticeable and pushed the door open. 

And the sight of you nearly crushed his heart. You looked so small sitting on the hospital bed, legs dangling off the side, hand pressing a blue ice pack to the side of your face. When you looked up and noticed him, you sat up straighter and squeaked out, “Benny!”

He was at your side in an instant, hands carefully roaming in an attempt to find anything physically wrong with you besides the obvious head wound. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” you said, taking his hand in your unoccupied one and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nothing, Benny.”

“It wasn’t nothin’,” Kathy spoke up from the doorway, nervously glancing between you two. “You were out for a good couple minutes. Scared the livin’ shit outta me. ” 

You shook your head, shooting her an exasperated look around Benny’s shoulder. “I told you not to call him.”

“Bullshit,” Benny interjected. “You get taken to the hospital and you think I shouldn’t know ‘bout it?”

“I’m fine, really,” you said with a sigh and you looked so . . . tired. Benny wanted to scoop you up in his arms and take you home in that instant. “The doctor said I just got overheated. You know how hot it’s been.”

Benny’s hand gently encased yours holding the ice pack, pulling it away so he could inspect the damage. He grimaced at the sight of the nasty purple and red bruise forming around your right brow bone and down to your eye socket. Despite his best efforts, his hands still shook as he pulled away. He’d seen his fair share of bruising – most of the time it was from his own reflection in the mirror after a fight. But the sight of the injury coloring your beautiful skin. . . it made his stomach flip. You were so frail, so breakable and the realization squeezed at Benny’s heart. He was supposed to protect you and if he could, he’d shrink you down and put you in his pocket, safe and secure. He looked over his shoulder to Kathy, “Would you. . . would you let Johnny know what’s goin’ on?”

“Sure thing,” she answered and disappeared out the door.

Silence fell heavy between you and Benny desperately searched for something to say to make you smile again, to make you blush . . . but his heart still pounded too hard and his stomach still churned from the uncertainty to come up with anything. So he did the only thing he could in that moment; He pulled you into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your neck as he fought back that awful sting of tears again. 

“I’m okay, Benny.” Your voice was muffled against his chest. “I promise.” 

“You can’t–” his voice broke and he had to swallow thickly before continuing. “You can’t scare me like that, Bunny.” 

“I didn’t mean to–” 

“I just– I just love you so much,” he breathed out as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“I know you do,” you whispered gently and he couldn’t understand how you were always so strong, so resilient. “I love you too, Benny.”

You gave him a moment to compose himself, to slow his erratic heartbeat and melt into your sweet touch before you pulled back, lowering the ice pack and said, “There is something that will make me feel better.”

“What’s that?” he asked, heart softening at your brazen smile.

“A kiss.”

“Is that so?” His gaze fluttered over your angelic face, still beautiful despite the bruise. 

“Mhhm, it’s what the doctor ordered, actually.” Your grin grew wider as he put both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs sliding gently along your jaw. He kissed you softly, lips barely ghosting over yours in fear of hurting you as if you would crumble beneath his touch. That wasn’t good enough for you apparently as you leaned forward to chase him before he could pull away completely. Your hands came up to hold his in place over your face and you returned his kiss with such vehemence that Benny’s brows pinched together in enthrallment. 

The distinct clearing of a throat broke you both apart and Benny caught sight of the doctor standing in the doorway, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. You blushed and looked away as the doctor entered, apologizing for the intrusion. 

“We got the test results back,” he said and Benny straightened, feeling his heart rate pick up again. “Bad news is we figure you passed out due to heatstroke. With this severe heat wave hitting Chicago, we’ve had multiple patients come in from it so don’t feel bad. Good news is you were able to get here quick enough that we could get your core temperature brought down before any damage was done. As far as your head, you don’t appear to have a concussion, but you will have a pretty nasty bruise for a while.”

“So . . . she’s okay?” Benny asked, hand finding the top of your thigh to ground him. 

The doctor nodded. “Yeah she’ll be just fine as long as she takes it easy for the rest of the day. No more gardening in this weather, okay?” 

You giggled abashedly at his joke and Benny breathed a sigh of relief. 

The doctor continued, “I’ll have the nurse bring around another ice pack for you to take home before we start your paperwork to leave.”

Benny held your hand as he stood beside your bed faithfully while they worked on getting you discharged of the hospital. You were okay, he repeated in his head like a chant. You were okay and that made him okay.

“You know since I'm gettin' out of here early we’ll still be able to go to the race tonight,” you pointed out with a small smile as you nudged him with your foot to get his attention.

“No, I’m taking you home where you’re going to lay your pretty little butt down in bed for the rest of the day,” he said firmly with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want you to miss Cal’s race!” you said as you tugged on his hand gently, lip pouting. 

“I don’t care about the race,” he replied flippantly.

“Well, I do! Plus I want to see the girls, too. C’mon, please Benny?”

He shook his head, trying to remain firm in his decision even as you gave him your irresistible puppy eyes. 

“Please Bennyyyy?” you dragged out his name in that adorable way you did when you wanted something. “I’ll sit in the shade and I’ll let you know if I’m not feeling good, I promise.”

He contemplated it. The race wasn't until later in the evening and the temperature should be cooler, but still. . . “You’ll go home and lay in bed until then?” 

You nodded, holding your pinky out to him in a silent promise.

Unable to deny you of anything, he reluctantly looped his pinky with yours. “Fine, but we’re only stayin’ for the race. No bonfire afterwards.”

You beamed at him and he knew you were proud of yourself for once again swaying him with your charms. 

******

Hours later, as the picnic was just getting into full swing, Johnny couldn’t hide the smile on his face as Benny pulled up with you on the back of his bike. Though surprised, he was sure you had roped the kid into coming, you seemed to be able to get away with just about anything when it came to Benny. He shook his head, as he watched Benny help you off and the two of you approached his picnic table filled with the core members of the Vandals, noting how he seemed to hold you a little tighter as if you were bound to trip and fall. 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be takin’ it easy?” he badgered as he stood to give you a hug. 

“And miss out on a race?” you grinned as you gave him a quick hug before looping your arm back through Benny's. “Never.”

“Well, it’s good to see you’re feelin’ better, kid,” he said honestly. 

Funny Sonny caught sight of the reunion and hollered as he approached. “Hey Bunny, I’d hate to see the other guy!” 

You blushed as you remembered the bruise forming on your face and before you could say anything, Benny spoke up from beside you. “Yeah, she got ‘em good with her mean right hook.”

You grinned at him as Sonny laughed. “Hell yeah! Bunny’s a fighter now, boys!”

They cheered and you rolled your eyes playful as you leaned up on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on Benny’s cheek. 

-Tag List-

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[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part seventeen

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

author's note: this series has been a long time coming and i am so happy it has taken off the way it has. i appreciate all the love and support you all have given this story, but we have reached the end. i do not want to overkill this story or beat a dead horse, because the longer it goes on it leaves room for more to happen than i planned for. i plan on pursuing other stories from here but this one will always have my heart because it was my first ever on tumblr. <3

Sofia’s admission hit Rafe like ice water on a fevered brow, jolting him out of his haze with a suddenness that nearly knocked the air from his lungs. The dim, pulsing lights of the club blurred as he shoved through the writhing crowd, his mind teetering on the edge of panic. Every step felt like wading through quicksand, the noise of laughing strangers and the thrum of bass only deepening his disorientation. His chest tightened, his breaths coming short and rapid as the realization of your danger tunneled his vision, choking his throat with an unfamiliar dread.

By the time Rafe burst through the doors and into the humid night air, he was gasping. His hands gripped his knees, his body doubled over as he fought for control, the sharp sting of fear pumping through his veins like a poison. The streetlights cast jagged shadows across the cracked pavement beneath him, their orange glow flickering with every unsteady breath he drew. His heart hammered against his ribs as if it were trying to tear free, every pulse of it screaming a warning that reverberated through his entire being.

His thoughts came in fragmented bursts, spiraling—she’s in danger—a relentless echo. He pictured you, vulnerable, caught in some trap his father had set. His mind spun with worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last, while the terror of losing you drove him to the brink of collapse. A wave of nausea hit him, but he forced it back, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing down the panic threatening to unravel him.

He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not like this.

Standing upright, Rafe ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, the night air doing nothing to cool the heat surging beneath his skin. The world outside the club seemed to spin in slow motion, people passing by oblivious to the storm raging within him. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus, adrenaline igniting something feral and primal in his chest. He knew only one thing: he had to find you, and there wasn’t a second to waste.

Rafe’s eyes darted wildly around the street as he paced, his mind racing with chaotic thoughts that he struggled to piece together. His fingers raked through his dirty blond hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribcage. Every muscle in his body was tight with anxiety, and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. He had to calm down—he knew that. But the fear gnawed at him, relentless, pulling him deeper into a spiral.

Get it together. Focus. He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rush of his own breathing. The thought of you being in danger sent another wave of panic through him, but he forced himself to push it down. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. Not with you on the line.

The idea of getting in his truck crossed his mind, but the very notion of driving in the state he was in felt like a death sentence. His body still buzzed with the remnants of coke and alcohol, the drugs pulsing through his bloodstream, clouding his judgment. If he got behind the wheel now, it would be reckless, maybe even fatal. And then there was Topper—no help at all, slumped somewhere back in the club, likely even more wasted than Rafe was. No, he was on his own. Or at least he thought he was.

Then it hit him like a bolt of clarity: Barry.

He grimaced at the thought, but desperation left him with no other choice. Barry was the last person he wanted to rely on, the kind of person you only called when things were far past the point of no return. But that’s exactly where he was now—past the point of no return. If anyone had the connections, the means to track down his father or whatever shady plot Ward had concocted, it would be Barry.

Rafe’s phone trembled in his hand as he pulled it out of his pocket, the screen blurry as he scrolled through his contacts. His fingers hesitated above Barry’s name, but he took a breath and tapped the call button. The dial tone seemed to stretch on forever, each ring tightening the knot of anxiety in his stomach.

Finally, a gravelly voice answered on the other end. “Rafe? The hell you callin’ me for at this hour?”

Rafe swallowed hard, his voice strained as he spoke. “I need your help, Barry. It’s… it’s about my dad. And it’s about her.”

There was a pause on the line, a low chuckle from Barry that sent a chill down Rafe’s spine. “This better be worth my time, Cameron. You know how I work.”

“I know,” Rafe gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of the situation settle even heavier on his shoulders. “Just meet me at the docks. I’ll explain everything.”

With that, he hung up, his jaw clenched as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. His hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t just from fear—it was anger. Anger at his father, anger at Sofia, anger at the world for putting you in this mess.

Rafe’s feet pounded against the pavement, the night air sharp against his flushed skin. His vision tunneled once again, the world around him reduced to nothing but a blur of shadows and streetlights. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sting of adrenaline burning in his lungs, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. His legs carried him forward with reckless speed, driven by the sheer force of desperation.

The dock wasn’t far, but it felt like miles as he sprinted down the road, heart hammering in his chest. Maybe it was the cocktail of substances still coursing through his veins, or maybe it was the raw fear gnawing at him, but he ran like his life depended on it.

No, not his life—yours.

Every thought, every heartbeat, was consumed by the image of you in danger, your face flashing before his eyes as he pushed himself harder. The world around him felt surreal, distorted, like a fever dream where time slowed and sped up at random. The night sky seemed to tilt above him, the ground swaying beneath his feet, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t.

The familiar smell of saltwater hit his nose as he neared the dock, the wooden structure looming ahead, dimly lit by a few flickering lamps. His steps faltered for just a second as he spotted a figure leaning against one of the posts, the outline unmistakable even from a distance. Barry.

Rafe forced himself to slow down, his heart still racing as he approached. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a vice, but there was no turning back now. He needed answers. He needed you safe.

Barry lifted his head as Rafe came into view, his smirk visible even in the low light. “You look like shit, Cameron.”

Rafe's words came out in a frantic rush, barely coherent as his panic clawed its way to the surface. His breath was uneven, and his eyes, wild with desperation, darted toward Barry with an intensity that made it clear how urgent this was. “We have to find Y/N. I need you to help me find her, please, I—”

Barry narrowed his eyes, exhaling another lazy stream of smoke, clearly enjoying watching Rafe unravel. "Whoa, slow down," he said, his voice thick with amusement, like he was savoring Rafe's desperation. "You're all worked up for what? A girl? I thought you'd grown a spine by now."

Rafe took a step closer, fists clenched at his sides, his voice strained as he tried to steady himself. “This isn’t a joke, Barry. My dad’s involved. Sofia’s involved. They’re coming after her, and I can’t—” his voice broke for a moment, "I can’t let them hurt her."

Barry tilted his head, flicking the cigarette butt onto the ground and grinding it under his heel. “Ward’s always got his hands in some deep shit, doesn’t he?” His smirk widened, but his eyes sharpened with interest. “So, you’re saying there’s trouble. Sounds like a dangerous game, Rafe. How do I know your daddy won't turn around and fuck me over next?"

Rafe’s jaw tightened as Barry’s smirk deepened, the question lingering like a taunt. He knew Barry wasn’t the type to jump into anything without weighing the risks—especially when it involved the Camerons. Taking a shaky breath, Rafe tried to steady himself, to present some semblance of control. "Because I’ll make sure it doesn’t. This is on me, not you. I just need your help."

Barry let out a low chuckle, amused by Rafe's desperation. "Oh, so now you're the hero? What makes you think you can keep me out of the crossfire when your whole family’s knee-deep in it?"

Rafe ran a trembling hand through his dirty blond hair, feeling the weight of the substances in his system pulling him down. "You won't be on the radar. My dad won’t even know you're involved. This is between me and him. Sofia’s already in, so you’ve got leverage."

Barry’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as he considered the offer. His fingers drummed against his side, eyes studying Rafe. “Leverage, huh? Sounds like you’re neck-deep in something nasty. And if it backfires...”

“It won’t,” Rafe interrupted, his voice sharp and pleading all at once. "I’ll make sure it doesn’t."

Barry stared him down for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, he flicked a glance at Rafe, sizing him up. “Alright,” he said, his voice slow, calculating. “But if this does turn sideways, I’ll bury you before Ward even gets a chance. You hear me?”

Rafe nodded quickly, the words slicing through his panic. "Yeah, I hear you. Just help me find her."

"Well alright," Barry sighed almost in defeat, his shoulders slumping as he turned his heel, motioning Rafe to follow, "let's get goin'."

Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his pulse still racing but with a flicker of hope now threaded through the fear. He quickly followed Barry to the beat-up truck, the gravel crunching under their feet. The night air felt heavy, thick with the tension of what they were about to do.

Barry opened the driver’s side door, glancing back at Rafe with a half-smirk. “Get in. And try not to puke in my truck, yeah?”

Rafe ignored the jab, climbing into the passenger seat as Barry started the engine. The old truck roared to life, and they took off down the road, the headlights slicing through the dark.

As they sped away from the dock, the inside of the truck was filled with the low hum of the engine and the rattling of loose parts. Rafe stared out the window, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, the knot in his stomach tightening with every mile. He couldn’t stop imagining what his father might do, or what Sofia’s resentment might lead to.

Barry, sensing Rafe’s silence, glanced over, his eyes flicking between the road and his passenger. “So, what exactly does your daddy have planned this time?” he asked, voice casual, but there was a sharpness behind it.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenching as he replayed the chaotic events of the past few days. Ward’s betrayal, Sofia’s confession, the looming threat that seemed to press down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know all the details,” Rafe finally muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “But it’s bad. Real bad.”

Barry raised an eyebrow, his hands steady on the wheel as they sped down the dimly lit road. “Define ‘bad,’ Rafe. You’re talkin’ like your old man’s about to blow up the island or somethin’.”

Rafe shook his head, running his hand through his disheveled hair. “He put a hit out on her. On y/n.” His voice cracked slightly, as if saying it out loud made the threat even more real. “He thinks she’s tied up with John B and the Pogues, thinks she’s some kind of liability. But she’s not, Barry. She’s innocent.”

Barry let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Ward Cameron never could tell the difference between business and personal, could he?”

The truck hit a bump in the road, but neither of them flinched. The silence stretched, the gravity of the situation settling between them like a storm cloud.

“So, you’re up against Ward now,” Barry said, glancing sideways at Rafe again. “Man, you’ve got balls. Most people would’ve run for the hills by now.”

“I’m not running,” Rafe snapped, his anger flaring up again. “I’m not letting him ruin her life like he’s ruined mine.”

Barry grinned, the corners of his mouth tugging up in that familiar, crooked way. “Alright, man. I’m in. But just know, whatever comes next—it’s gonna get ugly.”

Barry's truck roared down the deserted streets, the engine's growl a constant, urgent reminder of the time slipping away. Rafe sat in the passenger seat, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat, knuckles white and strained. The road stretched out before them like an unending ribbon of asphalt, the dim streetlights casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to dance with his growing panic.

Every minute felt like an eternity as they drove through familiar yet alien landscapes. They passed by the docks, the bars, and the places you’d once frequented. Rafe's eyes darted around, desperately scanning for any sign of you, but the night remained stubbornly indifferent. The neon signs of local bars blurred into a chaotic smear of color, each one a reminder of how many places he had searched and how many hours had slipped by.

“Damn it!” Rafe yelled, his voice cracking with frustration. He punched the dashboard with a force that made the truck’s interior shudder but didn’t quite break anything. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as he tried to keep himself calm, but the fear that something terrible might happen to you was relentless.

Barry's eyes flickered over to Rafe, a mix of concern and impatience etched on his face. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, the knuckles on his hands turning a stark white. “Look, we’ve been driving around for half an hour, hitting all your usual spots. There’s no sign of her,” Barry said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. He glanced at Rafe, who was staring out the window with a look of desolation.

Barry’s gaze shifted back to the road, then to Rafe. “Alright, look, why don’t we just show up at John B’s and ask ‘em where she’s at? I mean, it won’t hurt to check. We might find something there.”

Defeat etched over Rafe's features as he slumped down into the passenger's seat, momentarily peering over at Barry as if he was contemplating his suggestion. Everywhere else seemed to be a bust, therefor it was the only option left for him to go. "Alright," he sighed, throwing his hands up, "let's go."

Barry's eyes softened with a hint of empathy as he observed Rafe's expression. The stark contrast between Rafe's usually confident demeanor and the current look of defeat was jarring. Without a word, Barry turned the truck around, the vehicle's headlights slicing through the night, leading them back toward familiar terrain.

The road felt endless under the truck’s tires, each mile stretching out with agonizing slowness. The lights of bars and shops, once vibrant and promising, now seemed to mock Rafe’s anxiety with their indifferent glow. He sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the window, eyes following the blur of passing streetlights and shadows.

As they approached the chateau, Rafe’s mind raced. The enormity of the situation pressed down on him, the fear for your safety overwhelming every other thought. Barry parked the truck outside John B’s place, the vehicle’s engine rumbling to a stop. The street was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of a late-night radio.

Rafe glanced over at Barry, his face drawn and weary. “Thanks for doing this,” he said, his voice heavy with gratitude and exhaustion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before they approached the front door.

Barry nodded, giving Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping out of the truck. They walked up the path to the house, the porch light casting long shadows that danced with their footsteps. The door loomed ahead, a barrier to answers and perhaps, hope.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked. The sound of the knuckles hitting the wood was sharp and clear, breaking the silence of the night. The minutes felt like hours as they waited, the anticipation almost unbearable. Rafe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind replaying every possible scenario.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a groggy John B with disheveled hair and a puzzled expression. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Rafe and Barry standing on the doorstep.

“Rafe?” John B’s voice was a mix of confusion and concern. "What are you doing here?"

Rafe’s voice trembled with urgency as he stepped into John B’s living room, his eyes scanning the space frantically. His gaze darted around, searching for any sign of you. “I need to find y/n. Is she here?” he asked, his voice laced with desperation and a tinge of fear.

John B’s expression shifted from surprise to a mixture of concern and secrecy. “No, she’s not here.” He swallowed thickly, his gaze darting away briefly as if grappling with something unspoken. His demeanor was tense, a stark contrast to his usual easygoing nature.

Rafe’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean? Where is she? John B, I need to know.”

John B hesitated, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. “Look, Rafe, there’s more to this than you realize. We’re trying to protect her. Ward’s threats— they’re serious. If we don’t keep her hidden, things could get worse.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, panic and anger mixing in his gaze. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re hiding her? Why wouldn’t you tell me? She’s in danger, and I need to find her!”

John B’s face hardened with resolve. “We’re hiding her because it’s the safest place for her right now. Ward’s dangerous, and if he gets a whiff of where she is, it could end badly. I know you’re desperate, but honestly, you’re the last person who should see her right now. You’re the reason she and all of us are in this.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. “Don’t you dare say I did this to her.” His voice cracked with a mixture of outrage and anguish.

John B’s expression softened for a moment, but his resolve remained firm. “He’s your dad, Rafe.”

The words hung heavily in the air, cutting through the tension like a knife. Rafe’s face contorted with a mix of pain and frustration. “What does that have to do with anything? You think I’m just going to sit back and let him hurt her? I don’t care who he is—he’s not going to touch her.”

John B’s gaze was steady, though there was an undercurrent of sorrow. “It’s not about who he is. It’s about what he’s capable of. He’s dangerous, and you’re right in the middle of it. That makes it harder for us to protect her if you’re involved.”

Rafe’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait? I can’t do that. I need to find her.”

John B stepped closer, his tone firm yet sympathetic. “I get that you want to help, but right now, the best thing you can do is stay away. We’ve got a plan to keep her safe, and bringing you into it could complicate things further. You need to focus on dealing with Ward.”

Rafe wasn't simply going to let it go, not when it involved your wellbeing. His frustration began bubbling higher and higher, his anticipation eating away at him as time passed. John B's refusal to give up your whereabouts only complicated things for Rafe further, leaving him to feel like he was backed into a corner waiting for a war to erupt. He knew John B was not one to back down when he stood his ground, but neither was Rafe.

"Look John B, I know we have never gotten along and probably never will, but for just this instance can you please just put that aside and at least give me a clue to where she could be? I've looked at every corner of the Cut and you guys are my only chance to figure out where she is."

John B's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he considered Rafe’s plea. "You think I’m just going to give her up? After everything?" His voice was sharp, defensive.

Rafe stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "I’m not asking you to trust me, or even forgive me. I just need to know that she’s safe. Ward’s not going to stop, John B. And if I can’t find her, he will."

John B's hardened expression faltered for a moment. He could see the desperation in Rafe's eyes—the desperation of someone who was genuinely afraid for you. Still, he shook his head, taking a breath as he crossed his arms. "Rafe, I don’t trust you. And I don’t trust that you won't lead your dad straight to her, even if you don’t mean to."

Rafe’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I would never let him touch her. I’m trying to protect her—same as you. I just—" His voice wavered, barely a whisper. "I can't lose her."

John B hesitated, his brow furrowing as he watched Rafe. There was something different in his voice, something more genuine than he’d expected. He wasn’t used to seeing Rafe like this—vulnerable, pleading. It made him hesitate.

"She’s safe," John B finally said, his tone quieter now. "But that’s all you need to know. You need to back off. The more you push, the more danger you put her in."

Rafe’s frustration flared again, but he swallowed it, knowing that arguing more would get him nowhere. He stared at John B for a moment longer, feeling the helplessness creeping up on him. "Just… just tell her I’m trying to help. Please." His voice broke on the last word.

John B nodded stiffly, his expression unreadable. "We’ll make sure she knows," he said, turning to walk back toward the house. "But you need to leave this alone, Rafe. For her sake."

Rafe swallowed hard, the fear and frustration mixing with a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt in years. "I don’t know how to walk away from this," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I can’t just leave her in danger."

John B’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You love her, don’t you?”

Rafe’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He looked away, staring at the floor as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

A silence settled over the room, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, John B placed a hand on Rafe’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Then trust us,” he said quietly. “Trust me. We’re on the same side here.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Rafe had never been good at handling silence, and the last three weeks had felt like an eternity. He’d made it through plenty of rough patches before, but this time was different. There was an emptiness he couldn’t shake—a nagging, constant fear gnawing at him from the inside out. The usual distraction tactics weren’t working anymore.

He'd spend hours at the golf course with Topper and Kelce, making small talk about future trips and complaining about the latest club drama. But every time he lined up a shot, his mind wandered back to you. He could see you in his peripheral vision, your smile, your laugh—always just out of reach. Even at the Pelican Yacht Club, with its sun-drenched decks and cool sea breeze, he found no comfort. He'd sit there with a drink in hand, zoning out as his friends talked about plans for the next regatta. It felt like they were in another world, one he couldn’t access.

Rafe had told himself you were with the Pogues, hiding out, and that they were probably getting into their usual reckless trouble. At least if you were with them, you weren’t alone. It should’ve been enough to reassure him, but it wasn’t. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he knew that if Ward had any idea where you were, he’d already have made a move. The thought made him nauseous. Ward was gone too—radio silent. It wasn’t like his father to stay off the grid this long, and the eerie stillness around his disappearance made Rafe’s skin crawl.

Every time his phone buzzed, his heart would leap into his throat. He'd drop whatever he was doing, half expecting your name to light up his screen. But it never was. It was always Topper asking about plans for the night, Kelce wanting to hit the links again, or one of the Kook girls trying to make conversation. He was slipping—losing his grip on his usual cool demeanor. His patience had worn thin, and the smallest annoyances set him off. He could feel his friends’ stares when they thought he wasn’t looking, exchanging concerned glances behind his back.

“What’s with you, man?” Topper had asked him last night, standing on the deck of the club, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “You’ve been out of it lately.”

Rafe had forced a smile, brushing it off with a shrug. “Just family stuff,” he’d said, offering no further explanation. Topper didn’t press, but the worry in his eyes lingered, as if he could see the cracks forming in Rafe’s facade.

In moments of quiet, when the noise of the club died down and the laughter from the other tables faded into background chatter, Rafe felt the crushing weight of his own powerlessness. He didn’t know where you were, if you were safe, or if you were thinking about him at all. And the thought of you being hurt—or worse, alone and afraid—made him want to tear apart the entire island until he found you.

It had never been like this before. He’d never cared so deeply for someone that their absence felt like a physical wound. And now, with both you and his father missing, Rafe felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

He pulled out his phone again, his fingers hesitating over your contact. He hadn’t called you in weeks, not since the last time you’d spoken—the argument you’d had before you disappeared. He wanted to hear your voice, to know that you were okay, but he was afraid you wouldn’t pick up. Afraid you would, and he wouldn’t know what to say.

In the end, he just stared at your name on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. He hated how weak he felt, how much he needed you. With a frustrated sigh, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair, staring out at the horizon.

Rafe couldn’t stand the noise anymore. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the mindless chatter—it all grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension building in his chest, and before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly.

"I'll catch you guys later," he said, his voice flat.

Topper and Kelce exchanged puzzled looks, caught off guard by his sudden departure. "You good, man?" Kelce called after him, but Rafe didn’t even bother to turn around. He gave a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he made his way out of the club, ignoring the murmurs of confusion from the group behind him.

He needed to be alone, away from the forced smiles and meaningless conversations. He needed to escape the pressure building inside him like a storm ready to break. His feet carried him quickly to his truck, his hands already fumbling for his keys as he approached. The second he got inside, he slammed the door shut and let out a long, shaky breath.

For the first time all day, he felt a sliver of relief. The silence of the truck enveloped him, offering a brief respite from the chaos swirling in his mind. He leaned back against the seat, staring at the steering wheel as he tried to gather his thoughts. It was the first quiet moment he’d had in weeks, and he felt like he could finally breathe.

He pressed his palms to his eyes, as if the pressure could somehow force the pain out of his head. The knot in his chest tightened when he thought of you—where you were, if you were safe, if you even missed him. He was used to feeling in control, to having answers, but right now, he felt like he was spiraling, clutching at straws to make sense of it all. And then there was Ward's disappearance, which left an eerie silence hanging over his life, amplifying his uncertainty tenfold.

After a few minutes, he exhaled deeply, starting the truck. The engine’s rumble filled the air, grounding him in the moment. He pulled out of the lot and headed back home, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He needed to get away from it all, to shut the world out until he could figure out how to mend the mess inside him.

As he drove, the familiar scenery of Figure Eight blurred past him, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows on the road. It was a drive he’d made a thousand times, but today it felt different. The wind blowing through the open windows didn’t bring its usual comfort; it only reminded him of how empty everything felt without you by his side.

When he pulled into the long driveway of his family’s estate, the house loomed before him, its white facade glowing in the fading light. It was eerily quiet. He cut the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the mansion he’d grown up in. It was supposed to feel like home, but right now, it felt like a prison—a stark reminder of everything that was slipping through his fingers.

He made his way inside, letting the door click shut behind him. The silence of the house was suffocating. Rafe threw his keys on the table and headed up the stairs to his room. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he took in the familiar sight of his space. It felt just as empty as everything else.

He sank down onto the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. For once, he didn’t try to push the feelings away. He let them wash over him—the fear, the frustration, the longing. He knew he couldn’t hide from it anymore. You were gone, his father was missing, and everything was falling apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut, whispering into the darkness of his room, “Where are you?” The words were a plea, a question directed at you, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him. He just hoped that, wherever you were, you were thinking of him too.

Rafe's chest tightened, and the room seemed to shrink around him as his emotions threatened to boil over. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, but they welled up regardless, turning his vision blurry. His eyes became red and glossy, the ache in his heart growing unbearable with every passing second. It was like a ghost of you lingered in the room, haunting him with memories he couldn’t escape—your laugh, the way you’d look at him, the feel of your hand in his. Now, all he felt was emptiness.

He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this was his fault. He had made a grave mistake, he was sure of it. If only he had kept a closer watch, if only he had been more careful, maybe you wouldn’t be in danger now. The thought of you being out there, vulnerable and alone, tore him apart. He could almost see you, scared and needing him, but no matter how hard he tried to reach out, you slipped further away from his grasp.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, his voice cracking as he bit down on the words. The apology felt hollow, echoing back at him in the empty room. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to make the pain stop—but he was trapped in this limbo of not knowing, of being helpless. And for someone like Rafe, who thrived on control, the helplessness was its own special kind of torture.

His hand tightened around his phone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it like it was the source of all his pain. In a sudden burst of frustration and grief, he hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp crack, then fell to the floor, the screen shattering into pieces. For a moment, the silence after the impact felt almost comforting. He stared at the wreckage, chest heaving, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

But the brief satisfaction faded quickly, replaced by a hollow ache. He started pacing, the walls closing in on him as his thoughts spiraled out of control. His mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios, images of you hurt or scared flashing in his head. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it as if the pain could snap him out of this nightmare.

“Dammit!” he shouted, his voice breaking with a mixture of anger and desperation. He felt like he was losing it. He needed to do something—anything—but there was nowhere to go, no one to fight, and no way to find you. He was stuck, and it felt like drowning in quicksand.

Rafe stopped pacing, leaning against the wall as his body sagged under the weight of it all. His fingers dug into the plaster as he tried to ground himself, taking deep, shuddering breaths to calm the storm raging inside. The tears he had been holding back spilled over, streaking down his cheeks. He wasn’t used to this—crying, feeling this vulnerable. It made him feel weak, and he hated it. But right now, he couldn’t help it. He felt broken, shattered like the phone on the ground, and the pieces were too scattered to put back together.

He slid down the wall, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. He couldn’t escape the thought of you—your smile, the way you’d look at him like he was more than just a Cameron, more than just the troubled son of Ward. He hadn’t realized how much he needed you until you were gone. And now, he was left with nothing but the crushing guilt that he had failed to protect you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he heard the knock echo through the house, slicing through the heavy silence. He froze, wiping his tears quickly and forcing himself to compose. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours, and he certainly wasn’t expecting company. The confusion quickly morphed into paranoia. He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting to the front door. His mind raced, imagining who it could be. His father? Back from wherever he’d disappeared to, ready to follow through on his threats? The thought alone sent a chill down his spine.

He needed to be ready.

Rafe’s gaze shifted to his bedside table, where the knife gleamed under the dim light. He reached for it, gripping it tightly in his hand, finding some comfort in the cold metal pressing into his palm. He moved cautiously, his steps light and silent, like a predator stalking prey. As he descended the stairs, every creak of the old wood sounded like a gunshot in his ears, making his heart hammer against his ribs. He held his breath, trying to keep quiet as he approached the door, his pulse throbbing in his throat.

He reached the bottom of the steps, his eyes locked on the door. It was slightly ajar, as if whoever was outside had hesitated, not yet willing to push their way in. Rafe moved closer, his back pressed against the wall, knife held at the ready. He strained to listen, trying to pick up any hint of who it might be on the other side. He didn’t hear much—just the faint sound of someone shifting their weight, maybe a shaky breath. His grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles turning white as he mentally prepared himself for an attack.

With a deep, steadying breath, he reached for the doorknob. His fingers trembled as they wrapped around the cool metal, twisting it slowly. He pulled the door open just a crack, peeking through the small sliver to catch a glimpse of whoever was on the other side. He gulped, his throat dry, as he took in the figure standing in the dim porch light.

Rafe's breath hitched as he stared at you, feeling a wave of emotions he couldn't quite place. Relief, disbelief, anger, and something else he couldn’t name all swirled together, leaving him speechless for a moment. His hand trembled, the knife still held in a death grip at his side. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just stood there, taking you in like he was trying to convince himself you were real and not some figment of his imagination.

"Y/N?" he whispered, voice cracking. It was as if saying your name aloud might break the fragile spell of the moment. He’d pictured this reunion a thousand times—what he’d say, how he’d react—but now that you were actually here, all those plans evaporated. He felt paralyzed, his eyes scanning you up and down, searching for any sign of harm.

But you looked...fine. Unscathed. Healthier than he'd expected. It threw him off completely. He’d been imagining the worst for weeks, thinking you were in danger, or worse—hurt. Yet here you were, standing on his porch, seemingly calm and collected.

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, his posture collapsing under the weight of all the worry he'd carried. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling the knife slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. He didn’t even care. He just took a step closer, his eyes fixed on yours, desperate to make sense of what was happening.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he croaked out, his voice breaking. “Where have you been? Why—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as he raked a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were okay?”

“I’m tired of hiding, Rafe,” you said flatly, your voice carrying a strange calmness in the chaos of his thoughts. “Nobody else knows that I’m here. I left without telling them.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed in confusion, his mind trying to connect the dots. His heart still pounded in his chest, the weight of everything he’d been through over the past few weeks making it hard to focus. “I... I don’t get it. I thought you hated me because of all of this. I don’t get why—why you’re here.” His voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty as his gaze darted between you and the ground, as if the truth might be hiding in the space between.

"I never hated you," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. You met his gaze head-on, your eyes unflinching, though there was an underlying tension in your shoulders. "I did what I had to do to stay safe."

Rafe's brows furrowed as he processed your words, a painful confusion swirling inside him. "Why didn’t you call me? Why did you disappear without telling me where you were?" His voice cracked with the strain of his emotions. Every inch of his body screamed for answers, for the clarity he'd been missing for weeks.

You stood there, taking a deep breath before answering, the calmness in your voice betraying the storm brewing in your chest. "Because I didn’t want you to come looking for me. Ward knew you would be wherever I was, and I couldn’t risk it."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and he felt his world tilt for a second, the weight of your actions now making sense, but only in the way that left him struggling to breathe. He didn’t know how to feel. His hands tightened at his sides, fists clenching as the frustration built up inside him.

"Of course I would look for you, Y/N," Rafe finally choked out, his voice rough with emotion. "I had to make sure you were safe, and it was killing me having to just sit here and hope you were protected."

Your gaze softened, the conflict in your eyes clear as you watched him struggle with the words. You could see the hurt, the years of worry in his eyes, and it made your heart ache in return. But there was something else there too—something you couldn't ignore any longer.

"I know, and I’m sorry." Your voice came out quieter, more fragile, as if it hurt you just as much to say those words. "But I don’t want to do this anymore. No more games, no more hiding, no more danger."

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he took in your words, his chest tightening. His first instinct was to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and keep you safe, to make up for the weeks of fear and confusion. But there was something else behind your words, a finality that stopped him in his tracks. He stared at you, disbelief and pain mixing together.

"What do you mean, Y/N?" His voice cracked again, and he fought to steady himself. "What do you mean, 'no more hiding'?"

You took a deep breath, stepping forward slightly, your posture firm but vulnerable. "I mean I want to stop running. I want to stop being afraid. I’ve been through enough, Rafe. And I don’t want to keep living in the shadows, waiting for the next threat to come."

Rafe’s eyes softened, a mix of guilt and understanding crossing his features. He wanted so badly to fix things, to make everything right, but the weight of what you were asking him to do loomed heavy between you both. The past few weeks, the pain, the fear—it was all more than he knew how to handle. But looking at you, standing there, finally free of the fear that had controlled you, he knew what he had to do.

Rafe’s heart hammered in his chest as he processed your words. His mind raced, but the ache in his chest intensified. "What do you want to do, Y/N?" he asked, the rawness in his voice betraying the vulnerability he couldn’t hide.

You didn’t hesitate. Your expression was steady, determined. “I want to leave this place,” you said softly, but with the weight of everything behind it. “I want to go somewhere nobody can find us. Somewhere we can live a normal life, without the constant fear. I can’t take this anymore, Rafe. I need out.”

His breath caught in his throat as you stepped closer. “I want a new life," you continued, your eyes locked on his. "A life where it’s just us, without all the chaos.”

The words hit Rafe like a storm. For a second, he couldn’t find his voice, too overwhelmed by the possibility of a life with you that didn’t have to be defined by the fear and danger that had haunted him for so long.

“You… you really mean that?” he choked out, the doubt evident in his voice. “You want to leave all this behind? For real?”

You nodded. “Yes, Rafe. I’m tired of running, tired of being afraid. I want to build something different. With you.”

Rafe’s chest tightened at the sincerity in your words. He had always known you were strong, but this—this was something different. The weight of what you were asking, what you were willing to risk for the two of you, settled in the pit of his stomach. It was overwhelming, but it also felt like the right kind of overwhelming.

“You’d really leave it all behind? You’d trust me with that?” His voice cracked on the last word, the depth of his feelings for you surfacing in a way he hadn’t expected.

You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I trust you, Rafe,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And I’m done with this life. I want more than this. I want a future. With you.”

Rafe stood there for a moment, his mind scrambling to catch up with the magnitude of what you were saying. The idea of a life without his father’s control, without the constant tension, without all the chaos—it was almost too much to comprehend. But the one thing that stood out, clearer than anything, was you. You were standing there, offering him everything.

He stepped forward, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if trying to ground himself in the reality of what was happening. “Then let’s do it,” he said, his voice fierce with determination. “Let’s leave this place behind, together.”

The words hit you like a breath of fresh air, lifting the heaviness that had been suffocating you. You didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to hide behind walls of fear or uncertainty. You could finally see a future, a future with him, far away from the chaos and the danger. Your heart swelled in your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine smile spread across your face.

Rafe noticed it instantly—how your eyes softened, how the sadness and strain seemed to melt away. The corners of your lips curled upward, and without thinking, you stepped into him, closing the space between you. His hand tightened around yours, but before he could say anything, your lips found his.

It was sudden, but it was everything. The kiss was deep, urgent, and filled with the unspoken promises you both had carried in silence. Rafe responded instinctively, pulling you closer, his hand sliding to the small of your back as if to hold you in place, as if he could anchor you to him, keep you safe, keep you close.

In one swift motion, Rafe lifted you off the ground, his arms strong around you, as if he could carry all of your burdens with the ease of holding you in his arms. You let out a soft, surprised laugh as he kicked the door shut behind him, still holding you against him, your lips still locked in a kiss that spoke louder than any words could.

Once he gently set you back on your feet, he didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, he carefully brushed a lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your skin. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a mixture of love, relief, and something deeper—something raw that he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“I’m gonna give you the life you deserve,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the conviction in his expression. This was no longer about survival or fear—it was about a future that was finally within reach.

You smiled, your heart full, your gaze unwavering as you met his. “You already are,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, but it was enough. “Just being here with you... that’s all I ever wanted.”

Rafe’s expression softened further, a slow smile spreading across his face, and in that moment, you saw the man he could be—strong, protective, and driven by love rather than chaos.

"I love you, Y/N." The words hung between you like a promise, deep and unwavering. Rafe's breath caught for just a moment, the weight of what he'd just said settling in. He'd said it before, in fleeting moments, but now, in this moment, it felt different. There was no fear of loss, no uncertainty clouding his mind. It was just the raw truth.

"I love you, too, Rafe," you whispered back, your voice steady and sure. This time, you didn’t have to doubt it. It wasn’t just about the words—it was the way you felt in this moment, with him. Your pulse quickened, not from fear, but from the certainty of what was to come.

He pulled you closer, his arms strong around you as if to keep you tethered to him, to the life you were about to build. His lips brushed over your forehead, and then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze unwavering, filled with all the raw emotion you’d both buried for too long.

With a soft smile, Rafe leaned down to kiss you again, this time more tender, slower, as if savoring the moment, cherishing the bond that had been built through all the chaos and uncertainty. This kiss was a promise—one of protection, of understanding, and above all, of love.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 16 LOVERBOY #1 & #2

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions of sleepwalking

NOTES | written cut ahead!! followed by more smau slides :) jaemin redemption arc is about to be in full swing but trust that does not mean sunshine lollipops and rainbows for our girly y/n also I'm actually a sucker for dystopian movies, like the maze runner trilogy??? 🙏🙏🙏🙏 i feel like I've watched every dystopian movie out there but if anyone has any recs send them throughhh or just to geek over the movies then my inbox is open 😭‼️

Minjun was nothing short of everything to y/n.

When she woke up to find him gone, her front door ajar, she felt the room close in on her. Her heart raced like a runaway train and panic gripped her chest. In no less than a few seconds, beads of sweat formed over her forehead, her breaths shallow and rapid.

She had rushed out of the apartment in a frenzy, calling out his name like her life depended on it. Constricted for air, her body ran on autopilot, down the dimly lit hallway and then down the stairs to search each floor the same way she had searched her own. To no avail. With each step her stomach churned further, sinking, overwhelming. The feeling of nausea ran deeper, stronger, her heartbeat beginning to sound in her ears. Loud and so painfully unforgiving.

She couldn't lose him. Not now, not like this.

Every noise seemed amplified, every shadow morphed into a lurking threat. She felt trapped in a whirlwind of far too many emotions she couldn't recognise. Her mind had become a storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Time seemed to slow down as her panic escalated, consuming her every thought and sense.

Where could he be?

Useless, she felt so utterly useless. She had raced a thousand times, millions of laps of the track during practise and yet when it really mattered, she couldn't find her feet moving fast enough, she couldn't run with the same speed no matter how hard she urged herself to. Her life was on the line, her everything, and her attenpts seemed futile as she raced up the stairs again, across each floor and down again, over and over. How could she have been so careless?

Her pants grew in their depth, the lack of oxygen getting to her brain and causing her vision to blurr— mixed with the tears that overcame her vision, y/n was struggling to keep going.

She couldn't breathe.

Her legs threatened to give way beneath her and yet the determination that coursed through her veins wouldn't relent.

There was no way she would give up without finding him. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. Her motivation, her happiness, her reminder to keep going and keep trying, Minjun had been every single one of those things and more, her family, her best friend, so utterly irreplaceable that she already felt the hole within her heart widening.

Circles. She felt like she was running in circles, searching the same corners of the same floors she had already looked over a hundred times, desperation evident in her frantic movements, worry painting her features.

It had been 20 minutes and she hadn't found him, not a single sign of him— she'd lost him. She was so sure. He was gone and it was all her fault.

Y/n had given up on far too many things in life, but if there was one thing she knew she couldn't give up on, it was him. Minjun was her purpose, in every meaning of the word. She could give up on herself, but she could never give up on him.

She forced herself to think, though her thoughts had become slow, foggy as she repeated the words in her head, think y/n think.

Where could he have possibly gone?

When she finally arrived on the 7th floor again, ready to search her apartment, considering the small chance he may have returned, y/n felt her heart drop. The feeling of inadequacy overcame her being— unable to stand her body found the floor.

And the feeling of relief, though present was so agonisingly fleeting that she couldn't push herself any further.

There he was, sleeping peacefully in Jay's arms, safe and sound. The Park let his eyes land on y/n, sleepy gaze softening at her panicked state. desperately wanting to ask if she was okay but not knowing how to.

He was barely conscious himself, struggling to make sense of the situation in front of him. All he knew was that he'd found Minjun banging against his door no less than a few seconds ago. The traces of slumber were still visible in his squinted eyes and messy hair.

He couldnt find himself to care, not when she was like this.

"Y/n what hapenned?" his voice was hoarse, but soothing, "are you okay?"

The words rested at the tip of her tongue but she couldn't bring herself to speak, shaking her head. She took ragged breaths and gasps for air, a broken eyed stare on the younger boy, her hand clasped across her mouth for the fear of waking him.

Jay found himself conflicted, at an inner battle with himself, not wanting to leave the girl in this state for even a second, but not wanting to wake the sleeping boy in his arms either.

"He sleepwalks" was all she could breathe out, her voice cracking sharply. How he had made it out of the front door in the first place, she had no idea. It had never been this bad, but she knew it was no excuse. If only she had been more careful, none of this would have ever hapenned.

Jay's mouth fell open, finally piecing together the information as he crouched down beside her, cradling her head in his free arm, rested against his chest

Her tears flowed so incessantly, pained and burning against her cheeks, the bitter feeling of guilt caught in her throat, heavy. Shoulder slumped as her body rested against the railings of the staircase behind her, her soft cries echoing throughout the empty space, loud enough for the door opposite to swing open to reveal a concerned, but equally as confused jaemin.

"I've got her" jaemin said, immediately letting his arms wrap around her, rubbing small circles against the small of her back, her tears soaking through his shirt. And though hesitant, Jay nodded, earning a puzzled look from jaemin when he stepped into y/n's apartment to tuck minjun back into bed.

But that was the least of jaemin's worries when y/n, the girl he had always seen so strong, unbreakable in fact, now shook in his hold, suddenly seeming so fragile.

"It's okay peach, I've got you, let it all out"

Something about his voice, his presence, something about that moment washed over her like a gentle wave, soothing the knots of worry that had twisted tight within her. And though nothing could negate the pain, the disappointment and the thoughts of self doubt playing in her mind like a broken record, his hold had offered her worlds of comfort. Even if for a second, y/n felt the weight lift off her shoulders and her racing heartbeat began to settle.

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[killerlookz]

hiiiii i adore your writing soooo sooo much!! i was literally dancing in my room to joosts music and i thought of a new fic idea:3 can you write something where Joost comes back home and the reader is dancing to his songs in their apartment, the reader doesnt notice him at first, completely in the moment and when they do, they get all embarrassed and its all fluff and cute??(((:

awww this is so cute <33 ty sm anon!!!

Dance With Me? | Joost Klein

content: gn! reader, no warnings rlly! just fluff :-) the song in question for this fic is Joost Klein 2 btw! this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

word count: 1.2k(just a wee little blurb!)

Sundays had always been your least favorite day of the week, a bleak reminder that the hours of the weekend were waning and you'd have to return to the monotony of the weekdays. Perhaps the worst part of Sundays was that they were your designated cleaning day, you would much prefer spending your last day free from work lazing on the couch or curled up in bed, but instead, once again you found yourself bouncing around your apartment straightening up whatever cleaning you had left unfinished throughout the week.

The silence of your empty apartment had been getting to you, bored out of your mind as you stood on a chair to dust off a bookshelf. The only thing you figured that would this slightly more tolerable was music at least the apartment wouldn't be so damn quiet.

You hop down from the chair, scurrying into the living room to turn on your speakers. It wasn't long until music was flowing into the apartment, loud, and probably obnoxious to the neighbors, but it hadn't been late enough to warrant a noise complaint- so they would just have to deal with it for now.

Among the many plusses of having a musician for a boyfriend, you had to admit being in possession of a stellar stereo system was definitely one of them. You had been able to hear the music just as perfectly as you pranced back into your bedroom, not exactly eager to get back to cleaning.

Though it would seem not much cleaning would get done after that point, more focused on the music than any of the tasks you had at hand.

"Joost Klein maar m'n stack die is groot!" You sang along with the lyrics that boomed over the speaker. Another plus of having a musician boyfriend was that he was a damn good musician., "De regering zoekt mij, maar ze vinden me nooit!"

You had found yourself jumping around to the music, a smile pressed onto your face as you swayed your head back and forth in time to the beat.

Still jumping, your arms in the air you start to spin around when suddenly the breath is knocked out of you at the sight of a figure in the doorway to your bedroom. Your body grows rigid, stopping dead in your tracks as your mind races to the worst-case scenario.

Luckily it hadn't exactly been the worst-case scenario, as your eyes focused and you were able to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Why'd you stop?" He asks, clearly amused, "I was enjoying your performance. I think you might put me out of a job."

"Joost!" Your voice is sharp like you're scolding him for being in his own home. Your eyes widen at the shock, not having expected him to be home, much less having even heard him walk through the door, "I thought you said you'd be running errands all day."

Embarrassment begins to grow on your face, your eyes refusing to meet Joost's, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as your body grows hot.

"I've actually been gone awhile," He chuckles, "I finished my errands."

"Hmm," You hum, looking down at your feet, "Time flies." You mumble.

"It does when you're having fun, which you looked to be having." Joost muses, an eyebrow-raising behind the thick rims of his glasses.

"Cleaning was getting boring," You shrug, still refusing to make eye contact out of sheer embarrassment.

Joost can clearly sense your unease as his smile still rests on his face, beginning to bob his head up and down, slowly walking towards you with some grove in his step,

"Maar ik blijf Joost en ik bleef in de derde zitten," Joost lowly sings along to his own voice over the speaker, his movements becoming livelier as he gets closer to you, "Soms haat ik kittens en haat ik ook science-fiction."

He grabs your hands, as to ask you to dance with him, but you're reluctant, only holding his hands in front of him as he dances on his own continuing to sing along to his own song.

"C'mon," He urges, "Dance with me?" An exaggerated pout rests on his lips as he stares down at you with big, blue, puppy-dog eyes. You can't exactly resist that look, slowly stepping back and forth to appease his request.

He pulls at your arms as he jumps up and down to the music, just about forcing you to move with more excitement, your embarrassment quickly subsiding as Joost dances in a manner similar to how you had been just moments prior.

"Joost Klein maar m'n stack die is groot!" Eventually, the two of you are singing, bouncing up and down in sync with each other and you can't believe you had ever been embarrassed in front of Joost in the first place. It had seemed so trivial now that the two of you danced together, after four years together you were sure you had seen each other in much more embarrassing situations, you knew better, that he would never pass any judgment on you, "De regering zoekt mij, maar ze vinden me nooit!" You practically yell to each other, oversized grins burned into both of your faces.

The song soon fades out, allowing for a song that wasn't Joost's to start playing.

"You've got some good music taste," Joost teases, the two of your movements dying down.

"Meh," You shrug, "Joost is kind of mid, I think Ski Aggu is better,"

Joost clicks his tongue, shaking his head in joking disapproval,

"You're lucky you're cute." A kiss is pressed against your forehead. The small gesture leaves you with butterflies in your stomach, despite the length of time the pair of you had been together, every touch from him seemed to feel like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

"You get much cleaning done?" He pulls back

You look around the bedroom, the bed still unmade, clothes strewn upon your dresser, various items scattered around your desk. You feel yourself becoming stressed again at the task ahead of you.

"Not quite." You respond sheepishly, you sigh, "I should probably-"

"It can wait, relax, liefje," Joost cuts you off, "I think we should continue our little dance party."

"Easy for you to say when you've gotten everything you need to get done today,"

"Hmm," Joost puckers his lips, twisting his face into an expression that makes it obvious he's thinking, "How about..." He trails off for a moment, inching closer to you, "You stay here and dance with me, and I'll clean the whole apartment while you're at work tomorrow."

It's an easy proposition to accept, not having to clean? Fine by you.

"Deal?" He asks, smiling down at you.

"Deal," You quickly nod.

"Eh," he holds up a finger, "We need to seal the deal."

You raise your eyebrows up at him, waiting for what he's going to say next,

"You gotta give me a kiss to seal our deal,"

You giggle, standing up on your tip toes, placing both of your hands on Joost's shoulders as you reach up to press your lips to his.

He's quick to kiss you back, resting his hands on your waist as he engages you in a soft, passionate kiss.

"Okay," He nods, "Now it's a deal."

[soulofapatrick]

Broken Showers Aren't All Bad - Alec Lightwood x female reader

Summary: You use Alec's shower as yours is broken

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

As I stumble back to the institute, my muscles aching and my clothes stained with sweat and demon ichor, I can’t help but feel a sense of exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders. The fight against the shax demons had been relentless, each blow and dodge taking its toll on my body and spirit. 

Dragging myself to my room, I’m grateful for the ensuite bathroom, the promise of a hot shower offering a small sliver of comfort amidst the chaos and danger that constantly surrounds us. But as I step into the shower and turn on the water, my relief quickly turns to frustration as the pipes splutter and the flow of water comes to an abrupt halt, leaving me standing there in disbelief.

With a groan of frustration, I pound my fist against the tiled wall, feeling a surge of pent-up anger and exhaustion bubbling to the surface. It's the last straw in a long line of setbacks and challenges, and I can't help but feel like I'm at the end of my rope. They said they had fixed my shower earlier today but it’s still fucked.

Desperate for a solution, I run through a mental checklist of every member of our group, trying to determine who might be willing to let me use their shower. Clary and Jace are out of the question—they're probably lost in each other's embrace, lost in their own world of love and passion. And Izzy, well, she doesn't know the meaning of privacy, likely to barge in without warning at any given moment.

That leaves Alec—the one person in our group who values his privacy above all else. It's a long shot, but I'm left with no other choice, especially as he’s out on a mission currently. 

As I tiptoe through the dimly lit corridors of the Institute, my heart races with anticipation and a tinge of nervousness. I know I shouldn't be doing this, sneaking into Alec's room while he's away on a mission, but my own shower has been malfunctioning for days, and I can't stand the thought of going another day feeling unkempt.

The door to Alec's room creaks softly as I push it open, praying that no one hears. Stepping inside, I quickly make my way to the bathroom, feeling a rush of relief wash over me as I shut the door behind me. The warm steam soon envelops me as I strip off my clothes and throw my towel aside, longing for the hot water. 

As I step into Alec's shower, the warmth envelops me like a comforting embrace, easing the tension that had been coiled tightly in my muscles. The steam fills the small space, wrapping around me like a gentle cloud, washing away the lingering remnants of fear and adrenaline from the encounter with the shax demons.

I close my eyes, letting the water cascade over me, each droplet a soothing caress against my skin. The scent of Alec's shampoo and soap fills the air, a familiar and comforting aroma that helps to ground me in the present moment.

With each passing second, the tension begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of relaxation and relief. The hot water works its magic, easing the ache in my limbs and soothing the bruises that litter my body from the fight. 

I tilt my head back, letting the water cascade over my face, feeling the weight of the day's events slowly lift from my shoulders. In this moment, there is nothing but the sensation of warmth and cleanliness, a temporary reprieve from the chaos and danger that constantly surrounds us. 

As I stand under the warm cascade of water in Alec's shower, a sense of tranquility washes over me, momentarily banishing the worries and fears that had plagued me earlier. But as the sound of footsteps approaches the door, my heart lurches in my chest, and panic sets in like a suffocating wave.

Alec’s footsteps are unmistakable—steady and purposeful, devoid of the usual warmth or joviality. My mind races with the worst-case scenarios, imagining his stern expression and sharp reprimands as he discovered me here, intruding upon his private space and using his stuff. 

With trembling hands, I reach for the shower curtain, hastily pulling it closed around me as if it could shield me from the impending confrontation. My breath comes in shallow gasps, the steamy air feeling suddenly stifling as I await Alec's inevitable discovery.

The moment the bathroom door creaks open, my heart feels as though it’s lodged in my throat, and I shrink back against the tiled wall, desperately trying to make myself as small as possible on instinct. Through the opaque curtain, I can vaguely make out Alec’s silhouette, his presence looming like an impending storm. 

“Who’s there?” His voice pierces through the heavy silence, sharp and authoritative, sending a shiver down my spine. 

I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry and constricted. "It's me," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, my words muffled by the fabric of the curtain. 

Alec’s footsteps draw nearer, and I can feel the weight of his gaze boring into me, even through the barrier of the shower curtain. Every nerve in my body is on high alert, bracing for the inevitable backlash of his discovery. 

“What are you doing here?" His voice carries a note of incredulity, mixed with a hint of confusion.

I bite my lip, my mind scrambling for an explanation, any excuse that could possibly justify my presence here. "My shower... it's broken," I stammer out, my words coming out in a rushed tumble, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

There’s a moment of tense silence, broken only by the sound of water cascading from the showerhead. I brace myself for Alec's anger, fully expecting a sharp rebuke for my audacity. 

But, to my surprise, when Alec finally speaks, his voice carries a note of understanding, his tone softer than I had anticipated. "Well, I suppose you can finish up here," he says, his words tinged with a hint of amusement.

Relief floods through me like a tidal wave, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension in my muscles slowly begin to ebb away. 

As I finish my shower, hastily drying off with a fluffy towel, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I realise my oversight—I forgot to bring clean clothes with me. With a frustrated sigh, I wrap the towel tightly around my body, hoping it provides at least some semblance of modesty as I prepare to face the inevitable embarrassment of leaving Alec's bathroom in just my towel.

Steeling myself for the inevitable, I take a deep breath and push open the bathroom door, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I step into the room beyond. My eyes dart nervously around the familiar surroundings, searching for any sign of Alec's presence.

And then,  I see him—standing by the window, his back turned to me, his gaze focused intently on something outside. Relief floods through me at the sight, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the awkwardness of the situation.

But as if sensing my presence, Alec turns, his eyes widening in surprise as they travel the length of my body, lingering for a moment longer than is strictly necessary. A flush of crimson creeps into his cheeks, and he quickly averts his gaze, clearing his throat in a feeble attempt to disguise his embarrassment. "Uh, sorry," he mumbles, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes fixed resolutely on the floor. "I didn't realise you were... uh... here.”

I swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to my own cheeks as I struggle to find the right words to break the awkward silence that hangs between us. "I, uh... forgot to bring clean clothes," I mumble sheepishly, feeling like a fool for my forgetfulness.

Alec nods awkwardly, his cheeks still tinged with a faint blush. "Right," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well, um... I can, uh, go get you something to wear... if you want.”

Instead of leaving the room to head to mine he moves to his chest of drawers, searching for something for me to wear. I feel a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation, never expecting Alec to share his clothes with me let alone his shower. When he returns with a black t-shirt in hand, I accept it with a grateful smile, clutching it tightly against my chest as I wait for him to realise that he needs to turn away.

For a moment, Alec seems to falter, his gaze lingering on me expectantly until the realisation dawns on him. With a slight cough, he quickly averts his eyes, turning away to give me the privacy I need to pull the shirt over my head. As I slide the shirt on, I'm struck by how it drapes loosely over my frame, reaching down to mid-thigh and resembling more of a short dress than a typical t-shirt. The fabric is soft against my skin, imbued with Alec's scent, a comforting reminder of his presence.

When Alec finally turns back around, his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of me in his shirt, his gaze lingering on the way it hugs my curves and falls to the length of my thighs. A faint blush creeps into his cheeks once again, but this time, there's a hint of something else in his expression—a mixture of admiration and something deeper, more intimate.

"You, uh, look good in that," he stammers out, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes flickering uncertainly as they meet mine.

I can't help but smile at his awkward attempt at a compliment, feeling a warmth spread through me at the genuine sincerity in his words. "Thanks," I reply softly, feeling a flutter of excitement in the pit of my stomach at the realisation that Alec's gaze lingers on me a moment longer than necessary, his eyes filled with a warmth that sends a shiver down my spine.

As I stand there in Alec's room, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, I can't shake the feeling of reluctance that settles in the pit of my stomach. Despite the lingering warmth of Alec's gaze and the newfound connection between us, I know that I can't stay here forever.

With a soft sigh, I muster up the courage to break the silence, clearing my throat awkwardly as I glance towards the door. "I should probably get back to my room," I say softly, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

Alec nods in understanding, his expression unreadable as he steps aside to let me pass. "Yeah, of course," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

As I make my way towards the door, a pang of regret washes over me, aching in my chest like a physical weight. Part of me had hoped that Alec would stop me from leaving, that he would reach out and pull me back into his embrace, unwilling to let me go.

But as I glance back over my shoulder, Alec's expression remains stoic and unreadable, his gaze fixed resolutely on the floor. With a heavy heart, I push open the door and step out into the hallway, the sound of it closing behind me echoing in the silence.

As I return to my room, the echoes of Alec's presence still lingering in my mind, I quickly slip on a pair of panties before reaching for the black t-shirt he lent me. With a momentary pang of guilt, I peel off the shirt, feeling a sense of loss as I momentarily remove the comforting fabric from my skin.

But the need for cleanliness overrides my reluctance, and I hastily pull on a clean bra before slipping Alec's shirt back over my head, the familiar fabric enveloping me once again in its warmth. Bringing the collar to my nose, I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of Alec that lingers there, a mixture of soap and sweat and something uniquely him.

Lost in the comforting embrace of Alec's shirt, I'm startled by a sudden knock at my door, the sound jolting me back to reality. Swinging the door open, expecting to see Izzy, my breath catches in my throat as it’s Alec standing there instead. His expression is wrought with anxiety and before I can even utter a word of inquiry, he closes the gap between us in two swift strides, his hands reaching out to cup my face in a surprisingly gentle yet urgent grip. 

The world seems to tilt on its axis as Alec's lips crash against mine, stealing the breath from my lungs and sending my heart into a frenzied rhythm. His kiss is passionate and breathless, a whirlwind of emotions and desires unleashed in a single moment of raw vulnerability. 

I'm momentarily stunned, my mind struggling to catch up with the sudden turn of events. But as Alec's lips move fervently against mine, a surge of warmth floods through me, melting away any doubts or reservations I may have had.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him closer, losing myself in the intoxicating sensation of his touch. His hands are rough and calloused against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips as they trail a fiery path along my jawline and down my neck.

In that moment, there is nothing else but Alec and me, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of passion and longing. The world outside fades away, replaced by the electric intensity of our connection as we become entangled in each other's embrace.

And as Alec finally pulls away, his chest heaving with exertion, I'm left breathless and exhilarated, a million thoughts and emotions swirling through my mind. “Do it again,” I s all I can breathe, Alec’s response immediate and impassioned. With a hunger that matches my own, he presses me against the nearest wall, his lips claiming mine with a fervour that leaves me dizzy with desire. In that moment, it feels as though we're the only two people in the world, lost in the intensity of our connection.

His hand finds its way to my bare thigh beneath his shirt, hitching my leg around his waist, pulling me impossibly closer as if he can't bear to be apart from me even for a moment longer. The sensation of his touch sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. Every caress, every kiss feels like an affirmation of the bond between us, a silent promise of things to come.

But our stolen moment of passion is abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. Reluctantly, we break apart, our breaths coming in ragged gasps as we turn to find Izzy standing in the doorway of my room, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"Welllllll" she says, her voice laced with amusement. “Sorry to interrupt this but I need to steal Y/N,” she adds with a wink, "you two can continue this later. Preferably with the bedroom door closed this time.”

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position, burying my face in Alec’s shirt who's gaze remains unwavering as he meets Izzy's teasing grin with a smirk of his own.

“Later Izzy," he replies smoothly, his tone laced with amusement. “10 more minutes.”

With that Izzy snorts and closes the door on her way out, a fond smile on her face and Alec pulling me into his arms, a hug that has me nuzzling into the crook of his neck not sure what this is between us. 

“I never thought I’d be happy about a broken shower.” 

“Me neither.”

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[httpvomitello]

your writing is amazing! Do you mind if I make a request?

So, reader and the guys are already in a relationship and have been for a good few years now, but one day, reader stops answering phone calls and texts for afew days. Worried, the guys come to their apartment to find them throwing up with a positive pregnancy test on the side of the sink, only to find out reader is absolutely terrified of their reaction. How would they react?

No pressure whatsoever to do this ask, I still love your writing! Have a good day

Awwn, reading such nice comments makes me very happy. Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Leo was used to you being independent. He admired that about you

How you handled your life and problems with confidence

But after two days of silence, unanswered calls, and no texts, his patience wore thin

He’d tried to convince himself that you just needed space, but as a third day passed without a single word, he couldn’t wait any longer

Leo made his way to your apartment, a knot of anxiety twisting in his gut

He didn’t want to overreact, but something about the silence felt wrong

You never went off the grid like this

He knocked on your window gently at first. “(Y/N)?” he called out

When there was no response, he knocked harder

Still nothing

He pressed his ear to the window, listening for any sound inside, and when he heard a faint noise, like retching, his heart leapt into his throat

He hurried through the apartment, following the sounds from the bathroom

Pushing the door open, he found you hunched over the toilet, pale and trembling

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, rushing over to you

As Leo knelt beside you, his eyes caught something on the sink: a small, plastic stick with two pink lines

A Pregnancy Test

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly realized what it meant. “Oh… oh no…”

You glanced up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. “Leo… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m so scared…”

Leo’s heart broke seeing you like this

He knelt beside you, placing a steady hand on your back, his touch firm but gentle. “(Y/N)...” he called softly. “You don’t have to do this alone. I'm here now, my love.”

Despite the panic rising in his chest, Leo kept his voice steady

He couldn’t let his own fear show, not now

You needed him, and he wasn’t going to let you face this without him.

Raph hated waiting

When you stopped answering his texts, he tried to play it cool, telling himself you’d get back to him when you could

But as the hours turned into days, his patience evaporated

By day three, he was convinced something was wrong

He wasn’t one to sit back when the people he cared about were in trouble, so he took matters into his own hands

Raph stomped over to your apartment, his mind racing. What if something bad happened to you? What if you were hurt? His thoughts spiraled into worst-case scenarios as he banged on your door

“(Y/N)!” he called, his voice rough with worry

When there was no response, he didn’t hesitate

He forced the door open and stormed inside, searching for any sign of you

The faint sound of you throwing up in the bathroom was all he needed to hear before he rushed in

He found you crouched over the toilet, your body shaking as you threw up

His heart dropped at the sight, but before he could say anything, his eyes landed on the small plastic stick on the sink

His whole world seemed to tilt for a second as he processed what it was

“Babe…” he muttered, his voice suddenly soft. “Is that what I think it is?”

You turned to look at him, tears rolling down your cheeks as you nodded. “I didn’t know how to tell you...” you whispered

Raph felt his chest tighten as he knelt down beside you

He wasn’t good with emotions, but seeing you so vulnerable made something click inside him

He gently pulled you into his arms, his touch tender

“Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured. “We’ll figure this out. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You ain’t gotta do this alone, okay?”

Donnie was practical, rational

He didn’t panic easily, but after three days of unanswered texts and no response to his calls, even he started to worry

He ran through every logical explanation in his mind

Maybe you were busy, maybe your phone died, but none of it sat right with him

His concern finally pushed him to action

He made his way to your apartment, his heart racing with a mix of worry and curiosity

When he knocked on your door, there was no answer

He called your name softly, but the silence that greeted him made his stomach twist

He let himself in, hoping to find you safe and well

But when he heard the sound of you crying in the bathroom, his concern shot through the roof

“(Y/N), are you alright?” Donnie’s voice was filled with worry as he rushed into the bathroom

There you were, hunched over the toilet, pale and shaky

Before he could even reach out to help, his eyes fell on a small object sitting on the sink

A positive pregnancy test

His brain momentarily short-circuited as he stared at it, trying to process what it meant. “Are you…?” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper

You turned your tear-filled eyes to him, your voice trembling. “I’m pregnant, Donnie… and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Donnie’s mind tried to piece it all together, but nothing in his years of scientific training had prepared him for this

He never thought something like this would be possible to happen

He swallowed hard, moving closer to you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said softly. “We will do our best to take care of this baby. ”

Mikey wasn’t usually the type to worry

He tried to keep things light, stay positive

But when you stopped answering his texts, he couldn’t help but feel like something was off

Five days without a word from you? That wasn’t like you at all

At first, he sent funny memes and jokes, hoping to get a response, but when nothing came back, his anxiety bubbled up

He didn’t waste any more time, he went straight to your house to make sure everything was okay

When he knocked on your window, there was no answer, so he let himself in, calling out for you. “Babe? Where you at?

But there was no response

The sound of you in the bathroom was all he needed to hear

“Angelcakes? You okay?” he asked as he peeked into the bathroom, only to find you hunched over the toilet

Mikey rushed to your side, worry etched all over his face

But then he saw it, the positive pregnancy test sitting on the sink

His eyes widened, and his brain struggled to catch up. “Wait… are you…?”

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I’m so scared, Mikey....”

Mikey’s heart practically broke at the sight of you so scared and vulnerable

Without missing a beat, he knelt beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly

“Babe, you don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice full of warmth and reassurance. “We got this. We’re gonna be the best parents ever, I promise!”

His infectious optimism made you feel just a little bit better, and even though you were still scared, you couldn’t help but smile through your tears. “Really?”

“Really,” he grinned. “I’m gonna teach our little dude... uh, or dudette, all my best moves!”

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal no. 17

masterlist | next signal

"i’m alisa. i was kuroo’s partner for his project."

you freeze. this is her. the girl from the date. your heart sinks as you picture them together, imagining all the worst possibilities.

did he leave his phone? why was she the one who picked up the call? is he still there? your mind begins to spiral, creating scenarios you can't control, each more painful than the last.

"oh," you manage to say, struggling to keep your voice steady. your throat feels tight, and your words come out slower than usual. "can i ask for kuroo?"

"uh, actually, kuroo left his phone here with me," she replies, "it’s a good thing you called - i couldn't open his phone on my own because it's password protected. i was thinking how to get it back to him. im at my place right now."

her place. your thoughts race, filling in the blanks with every worst-case scenario.

what does this mean? what the hell is happening? and what happened before this? and how could kuroo possibly accidentally leave his phone with her? the more you think about it, the harder it becomes to breathe.

"i can let his friends know," you force out, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "they can come get it from you."

alisa agrees without hesitation, without ending the call, you quickly message the others, your fingers trembling slightly as you type.

after alisa says yes to the arrangement, you both settle to the conclusion that she'll call you back when she's arrived at the campus lobby where bo would be meeting her.

you sit in silence after the call ends, staring at your phone, thoughts swirling in your head. the quiet of your room seems louder now, every second stretching longer than it should.

where is kuroo right now? since she picked up the call at her place, was kuroo there before he left his phone? if they did, what did they do? does this mean he was that interested in her?

you try to shake off the uneasy thoughts, but they linger. you tell yourself not to jump to conclusions, but that’s easier said than done. your mind can’t help but imagine things of what might’ve happened after their date. it’s a battle between rationality and your emotions, and right now, the latter is winning.

then, your phone vibrates, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. kuroo's name appear on the caller id, and you assume it's alisa calling back, just as she promised.

“hello?” you answer, your voice a bit shaky but still composed.

“hey, i’m in the campus lobby,” alisa says. “bokuto isn’t here yet, but i’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“thanks for letting me know.”

the silence stretches for a moment. it feels awkward, hanging between the two of you, and you can’t help but feel like you should say something - anything - to fill the void.

you fidget with your fingers, unsure of what to talk about. after all, you barely know this girl, and under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

alisa breaks the silence first. “so... are you and kuroo close?”

her question catches you off guard. “uh, yeah, i guess you could say that. we’ve known each other for a while.”

“that’s nice!" alisa replies, her tone friendly. “he’s been super focused on this project. it’s kept him really busy, huh?”

you nod again, though the weight of her words makes your chest feel tight. “yeah, he’s been juggling a lot.”

the conversation stalls again, leaving you with your thoughts. you’ve known kuroo’s been busy, but hearing it from her, someone who's been spending that time with him, feels like a punch in the gut. you hesitate before asking, “where is he, by the way?”

“oh, he didn’t say,” alisa responds casually. “he just told me he had to go and left. i noticed his phone when he was gone already, and i was going to chase after him but it was too late...”

you thought nothing suspicious about her answer, but nothing that assured you that nothing happened between them. the quiet between you both stretches again, heavy and uncomfortable, and you find yourself scrambling for something else - anything - to fill the silence.

“how’s the project been for you guys?” you ask, trying to make small talk.

“oh, it went really well!” she says brightly. “we worked hard, but it all paid off. i think kuroo was really happy with how it turned out.”

you try to smile at her words, but your curiosity is eating away at you. you feel the urge to ask more, even though a part of you is scared of what the answers might be.

your thoughts drift back to earlier, to the idea of them spending time together after their date, and your stomach knots with unease. but you have to know, even if the answer hurts.

desperate to distract yourself from the silence and your spiraling thoughts, you finally blurt out, “so... did you guys have a good time?”

it feels like a casual question, but the weight behind it is unmistakable to you.

alisa chuckles softly, "oh, it was nice. he’s really sweet, isn’t he?"

you force a smile, even though she can’t see it. the words feel like a punch to the gut, as if someone else is confirming how amazing kuroo is. "yeah, he is."

there’s a brief pause, and the silence returns uncomfortably. your mind is racing as you struggle to keep the conversation going.

"i’m glad you were with him while he was so busy. as i said earlier, he seems to take on a lot by himself." you say, trying to fill the void, but the words come out weaker than you intended.

"he really does," alisa agrees, her voice light, as if she’s completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. "we ended up spending a lot of time together because of it. it’s been fun. and he really knows how to make you feel at ease, doesn’t he?"

the words twist in your gut, and you have to bite your lip to keep from letting out a sound of distress. you know exactly what she means. you’ve felt it too; the way kuroo can make you feel seen and heard.

and now, to hear someone else describe it, to know that she experienced it too, feels like a betrayal, even though you know it’s not.

"yeah," you manage to say. "he’s always been good at that."

the conversation drags on, each passing moment feeling like a slow unraveling of everything you thought you knew. your heart sinks deeper, weighed down by the uncertainty, the fear that maybe you’re too late. the realization that someone else has shared in those moments with him, that she knows things about him you might never know, is almost too much to bear.

"i’m happy you guys enjoyed your date," you say, trying to sound normal, but there’s a slight tremor in your voice.

alisa laughs again, this time with more amusement. "he told you it was a date too, huh?"

you blink, caught off guard by her response. "wasn’t it?"

"no, not really," alisa explains, her tone light as if it’s no big deal. "i just asked him out to coffee because of the success of our project, nothing more. he thought it was a date until he thanked me and mentioned it. so i cleared things up."

you don’t know what to say, the relief washing over you in waves, but mingling with confusion. before you can ask what happened after, alisa interrupts.

"oh, bokuto’s here," she says, her tone signaling the end of the conversation. "i’ll give him the phone. thanks a lot,"

"okay," you reply, still dazed, your mind racing with all the things you didn’t get to say or ask. bo takes the phone and tells you everything’s good, but his words barely register. you nod, barely listening, too caught up in your own thoughts.

you’re left with a thousand questions, but no answers. you want to know more, to ask her what happened next, but you guess you won’t get to know anymore.

did they talk about you? was kuroo relieved when she clarified it wasn’t a date, or was he disappointed? the uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you with nothing but doubts.

all of a sudden, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. your heart jumps into your throat. you hesitate, then get up to answer it. you bid bo goodbye on the other line and end the call as you approach closer.

maybe it was one of your roommates checking up on your or asking for an update about what has happened. you wondered who it might be as you opened the door.

and there he was.

kuroo, breathless and panting, his hair slightly disheveled as if he ran the whole way. his eyes lock onto yours, wide with urgency.

"kuroo," you begin, confused. "what are you doing-"

"i want you, y/n."

notes

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

next signal will be LOADED also bc we will see kuroo's pov !!

idk if this was a long update or not (than usual) but yeah

i had to edit this a lot of times bc i had to make sure that everything would be laid out well

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin

[shitsndgiggs]

Hello..... 👋I just wanted to say that your work is soo good.... I saw that the requests are opened... Would you consider and write my request for kenan yildiz x reader... like where they are in established relationship and the reader needed to go to his match to watch, but she didn't show at the stadium, so kenan felt disappointed because she told him she would come... and later after the match had finished and he could not find her... later he finds out that she was in the hospital.... something like that.... could you do a happy, fluff ending.... like with kenan being protective and worried... thank you

BITTERSWEET VICTORY - KENAN YILDIZ

The joy over Turkey’s win turns to panic when Kenan discovers you’re in the hospital

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Kenan's heart raced with excitement as the final whistle blew, sealing Turkey's 2-1 victory over the Czech Republic.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, and he couldn't help but beam with pride. The team had secured their place in the round of 16, everything felt perfect.

He turned to the stands, eager to share this triumphant moment with you. But as he scanned the sea of faces, his smile faded. You were nowhere to be seen.

He pushed through the celebrating crowd, calling your name, making his way toward the section where you were supposed to be seated.

His heart pounding not just from the victory but from a growing sense of unease. You had promised to be here. Where could you be?

"Kenan!" a voice called out, breaking through his anxious thoughts. It was Vincenzo Montella, the turkish trainer, making his way toward Kenan with a grave expression.

"Where is she?" Kenan asked breathlessly, not bothering with formalities. The concern in Montella’s eyes only heightened his fear. "Where's Y/N?"

"Kenan, we need to talk," Montella said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your girlfriend... she was in a car crash on her way here. She's in the hospital now."

The world seemed to tilt, and Kenan's vision blurred. "What? Is she okay? Which hospital?" His voice was barely a whisper, his mind racing with worst-case scenario and his hands shaking.

"She's at the nearest hospital. I don't have all the details, but she was conscious when they brought her in," Montella assured him, guiding him toward a car that would take him directly there.

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Kenan's mind raced with every possible scenario, fear gnawing at him. When he finally arrived, he practically sprinted to the reception desk, demanding to know where you were.

"Room 217," the receptionist said gently, seeing the desperation in his eyes.

Kenan burst into the room to find you lying in the hospital bed, a few cuts and bruises visible, but overall, you seemed okay. Relief flooded through him, and he crossed the room in quick strides, taking your hand in his.

"Kenan," you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. I tried—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his own eyes misting. "Don't apologize. You're okay, that's all that matters. "

You squeezed his hand, wincing slightly at the pain from your injuries. "I saw part of the match on my phone before... before the accident. You were amazing."

Kenan chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "None of that matters right now. I was so scared when I couldn't find you."

"I was scared too," you admitted, your voice trembling.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But you're here now, and I'm here. We’re together."

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I didn't know if I'd make it... The car came out of nowhere. I just wanted to be here for you."

Kenan's eyes darkened with worry. "I can't bear the thought of losing you. When Montella told me, I felt like my world was falling apart.

You gripped his hand tighter. "I'm here, Kenan. I'm not going anywhere. Just a bit bruised and shaken."

Kenan sat on the edge of your bed, his thumb stroking your hand gently. "Promise me you'll always be careful. I can't lose you. You're everything to me."

You managed a small smile. "I promise. And I'm sorry for scaring you."

He shook his head, his eyes full of love and worry. "Just rest now. We'll get through this together."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just holding each other. Kenan's heart finally began to calm, reassured by the steady rise and fall of your breath. He couldn't stop touching you, needing to reassure himself that you were truly okay.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"I love you too," you replied, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "And I promise, I'll always be here for you."

Kenan spent the rest of the evening by your side, his protective nature in full force. He fussed over you, making sure you were comfortable, his usual confident demeanor softened by his worry and love for you.

"Do you need anything? Water? Another pillow?" he asked repeatedly, hovering by your bedside.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Kenan, I'm okay. Just having you here is enough."

He sighed, sitting back down. "I just can't stop thinking about what could have happened. What if I had lost you today?"

"But you didn't," you said firmly. "I'm right here. We need to focus on that."

Kenan nodded, but the worry in his eyes didn't fully disappear. "I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me. You're my everything."

"And you're mine," you replied softly. "Now, can we please just enjoy this moment? We're together, and that's what matters."

As the night wore on, Kenan couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful that you were safe, that you were with him, and that despite the scare, you had a future to look forward to together.

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 7

summary: paige drives to azzi's house, overwhelmed with emotion after finding her letter.

disclaimer: as always, everything i write is fictional!!

cw: fluff, angst, sexual content (not smut)

word count: 5.2k +

author's note: i know this was LONG awaited, i'm very proud of this, i hope you enjoy! (the yearning never ends.)

paige's pov:

the rain pelts against my windshield, a rough pattering mimicking the beating of my heart. my hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white with determination. the road blurs in front of me, but i ignore it.

each second feels like an eternity without her. the engine roars in protest, but i can't slow down—won't slow down. my breath comes in short, sharp gasps, fogging up the windows. the world around me blurs, all i can focus on is getting to her.

streetlights fluttering through my windows, each frame a blink between her eyelashes. the momentum of each flicker, a flashing reminder of her polarizing stare. the way she illuminates my world for fleeting moments before plunging me back into darkness.

i miss her every time she closes her eyes.

the soft air from the a/c hits my cheek, fogging up the windshield. i take a long blink, remembering azzi's soft exhale. the stillness in her breath, like lake water settling on a shore. i need her exhales to become my inhales.

i need to breathe her in.

as i approach her neighborhood, a warm yellow glow bathes the streets. the rainwater picking up a golden hue from the streetlights, water droplets on my windshield becoming tiny suns.

it's the exact shade as azzi's eyes in the sunlight. my honey glow—sweet and warm. her eyes, a lighthouse on a distant shore, casting its glow across the waves, even when i was too far to feel its warmth.

i've lived a thousand lifetimes between her pupil and her iris, swimming in the whites of her eyes, afraid to go deeper.

i'll let her see me this time, really.

no more half truths, i'll bare my soul to her. i'll either drown in the depths of her gaze or finally learn how to breathe underwater.

everything around me feels like it's pushing me towards her. the rain, the lights, the very air i breathe—it's all azzi.

it's always been azzi.

as i pull into her driveway, the world seems to pause. the rain softens to a gentle hum as if nature itself awaits my next move. my hands shake as i pull the key out of the ignition.

i take my first unsteady step outside the car, my knees buckling underneath me. i feel like i'm standing on stilts, hoisted by the unraveling of her confession.

azzi's letter burns a hole in my clothing, heating my jacket pocket. i slip my hands into my pockets, the letter folded into the center of my fist, my lifeline.

the paper crinkles softly as i tighten my grip, and i swear i can feel her pulse between the lines.

my fingers tremble under the weight of what i'm about to do. i feel my entire body quiver, i can't tell if i'm shivering because of the rain or if my skin shakes at the thought of her being mine.

her words in my fist, i knock at her door.

azzi's pov:

the soft knock on the front door jerks me from my thoughts. i rush to the window, peeking through the blinds. my heart jumps when i see paige's car.

i yank the door open, and there she is. paige, standing in the pouring rain, clothes clinging to her body, soft blonde curls forming out of humidity. she looks...lost. vulnerable. beautiful.

she's out of breath like she'd just ran here, chest rising and falling rapidly, broken up only by the slight tremble of her tears. her soft blue eyes staring right at me—right through me. she sniffles and i feel my heart ache at her pain.

oh my god, did something happen? is she alright?

my mind races to the worst-case scenarios, anything to make sense of this. did she get into an accident? did someone hurt her? is her family okay?

i'm protective immediately, the urge to soothe her is intense. it pierces through my body, cutting deep into my mind.

"paige?" i call out, my voice muffled by the rain's delicate song. "are you okay?"

she doesn't respond. she just stands there, her chest heaving. eyes wide and filled with an emotion i don't recognize. it terrifies me, seeing her like this, like she'd crumble at the slightest gust of wind.

i take a careful step towards her, stepping out into the rain now. the urge to comfort her is visceral. like a flower bending towards the water, i find myself drawn to her sorrow, ready to absorb it all—drink it in through my skin.

i want to pull her into my arms.

my fingertips twitch, bones aching to hold her close, to shield her from whatever's causing her pain. i want to wrap my arms around her like vines growing on trees. i'd be her living shelter if she'd let me.

i want to brush back her wet hair.

my hands burn at the thought of stroking her wet blonde curls, tucking them behind her ear. they tremble with anticipation, like petals quivering in the breeze, eager to soothe.

i want to catch every tear falling from her eyes.

sometimes i think my palms were made to hold her face, to hold her sadness between my fingers. i look down at the lines of my palms, splintering like the stems of a leaf, tiny breathing pores, soaking in the oxygen of her tears.

"paige, please," i plead, my voice softening. "you're scaring me. what happened?”

the silence between us grows cold. she takes a shaky inhale, her lip quivering slightly. then, without warning, she lunges toward me, arms wide. she wraps around my waist, her head resting on my shoulder.

the shock of her touch jolts through me like lightning striking a tree. her rain-chilled skin sends shivers down my spine, but i can't help but pull her closer. the dampness from her clothes seeps into mine, a physical manifestation of her love. paige loved in a messy, all-consuming way, like floodwater—it soaks into everything it touches, leaving nothing untouched.

what could have happened to break her like this? i feel protective, like i want to hide her vulnerability from the world. keep her in my arms, where i know she's safe.

whatever this is about, it's serious.

i feel her heart beat against my own. i can't put a name to it, but i know her pain like it's mine. an ache that's lived between my ribs since the first time we met. i feel a yearning pulse through me, a sap rising from where we're connected, flowing through my capillaries.

there's something familiar about this pain, this vulnerability. it's an amalgamation of every time i wanted to tell her how i felt but couldn't find the words.

the very same ache that haunts her eyes now has lived inside me for years, a familiar shadow nestled in my chest. if the ventricles of my heart were like the branches of a tree, paige would be the root. she's the source from which my love grows, the sustenance maintaining everything that's ever flourished through me.

in this moment, with her in my arms, i'm aware of how our pain and love intertwine, delicate yet resilient. standing against the test of time, of fear itself.

"i remember everything," she whispers into my ear, voice breaking between words.

everything?

every word, every touch, every lingering stare.

the weight of her confession settles over me. my mind races, replaying every moment i thought i was lost to her.

i think of that night. the way she begged me to believe her, her eyes soft and desperate. how badly i wanted to trust her words, to put my entire weight on the syllables between her lips. the truth of her words felt so far away then, but now as i stand here, i realize, i'm holding them in my arms.

her tears hit my shoulder as she cries. each one a gentle plea, begging for forgiveness, for renewal.

i feel her release her full weight, as if finally unburdening herself. the sudden heaviness is both physical and emotional, she's passing me the weight of everything we haven't said yet. her vulnerability, her complete surrender, it seeps into my bones like rainwater into soil.

she melts in my arms.

we've always done this dance, a push and pull, passing this weight like a secret too precious to voice, but too heavy to hold alone.

"that night i said i loved you," she whispers, barely audible over the rain. "i remember everything, i meant everything."

god, i should've kissed her that night.

my world stops turning at the stillness of her breath. her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. my throat tightens, and i feel a rush of emotions flood through me—relief, joy, fear, and overwhelming love, all tangled together in the roots of my heart.

i try to speak, but the words escape me. my vision blurs as tears well up. mingling with the raindrops on my cheeks, warm rivers cutting through the cold, kissing her shoulders as i cry.

instead of responding, i bury my face in her wet curls, breathing in her scent. i'm grasping at any faint contextualization of her like i'm drowning. it doesn't feel real.

i'm pleading with myself, please stay here. in this moment.

the warmth of her breath against my neck, the way her words slide down my collarbones.

please let me hold on to this.

the pressure of her body on mine, the point where our hips meet, the perfect way her chin fits into the crux of my neck.

i've wanted this for so long.

the subtle tremor in her breath. something i'm only able to feel when i'm holding her this close.

i try to ground myself in this moment that feels both surreal and the most real thing i've ever experienced. my heart is pounding so hard i wonder if she can feel it, a rhythm that beats out a single word to her chest:

finally. finally. finally.

paige pulls back slightly, just enough to meet my eyes. her cheeks flushed, raindrops clinging to her eyelashes like pearls on a string. something in her eyes changed, a new openness. she's letting me see her, for everything that she is.

"i was so scared azzi," her voice soft. "for so long, i'm so sorry."

she shouldn't be the one apologizing.

“i was scared too,” i breathe, the words hanging between us like mist.

she has no idea how the thought of losing her has petrified me. since we were younger, she's had a grip on my life, a grip that if loosened, i'd fall into the depths of my mind.

her hand moves between us, and i watch as she pulls out a folded piece of paper from her pocket.

my letter. in her hands.

it's both fragile and monumental. the folded paper in paige's hands—a ghost of who we were haunting who we may become. a piece of my past self suddenly tangible in her hands, my feelings becoming real under her touch.

time seems to slow as i stare at it, memories flooding back. the weight of the pen in my hand, the trembling of my fingers. the fear, the hope, the undeniable love—all feelings meant for her, finally brushing against her skin.

i don't know if i ever truly believed she'd find it—find me.

my heart pounds in my chest, a faraway echo of what i felt that night when i wrote it. part of me wants to snatch it away, to protect that young, vulnerable version of myself. but the other part—the part of me that's been waiting, hoping, dreaming, for this very moment—feels nothing but joy.

in her eyes, i see whispers of an upheaval. with just the bat of her eyelashes, paige threatens to uproot us both, to expose what we've kept buried for so long.

my letter, a shovel scraping at the soil of our silence. each word a strike against the earth we've tended so carefully. her eyelids flutter, and i feel the foundation of our friendship quake.

she’s gutting me, with the ink of my own pen.

but maybe, this is what we need. to be torn open, raw and honest. maybe this was bound to happen, a love as gentle as ours, only uncovered by the scarring pain of vulnerability.

i look at her, scanning her every movement. her hands shake as she unfolds the paper. she looks wrecked, her hair wet and clinging to her face. but still, beautiful. i don't think paige will ever not look beautiful.

she's still so pretty, even when she's tearing me open.

our relationship, until now, has been a delicate garden—beautiful, tender, gentle. watered by the undercurrent of everything unspoken. but this revelation, burns under our pulses, hot blood coursing through our veins.

at first, it feels destructive. our patience has kindled a fire within us both. a steady warmth i've always felt when i looked at her, now becoming a searing heat. our complacency has become invasive, encroaching on the blossoming of new life in our little garden.

i realize now—this isn't destruction. it's renewal.

the flames lick the edges of our composure, melting at my resolve. and finally, i see her for who she's always been.

my girl.

this fire between us is a controlled burn, prescribed almost. it's clearing away the underbrush of every unsaid word and hidden feeling, making room for something to grow—something beautiful, something necessary.

the rain slows to a soft drizzle, even nature bends to the will of our love.

paige's pov:

i take a deep breath, holding the letter between my fingers, stroking the veins on her wrist. i watch her pulse beneath her skin quicken under my touch.

please tell me you want this too.

"do you still feel this way about me?" i ask, sounding much more insecure than i intended.

azzi's eyes flutter closed for a moment, and i see her swallow hard. "yes," she exhales. "more than ever."

my heart leaps at her words, but i need more. i need to be sure.

"tell me," i urge gently. "i need to hear you say it."

something flickers in her eye, a look i've only seen a few times before. in this moment, i feel the power she holds over me. it's palpable, electric. her eyes, usually soft and warm, now a sudden, intense flare of heat and light.

i'm caught in her gaze, captive to the desire i see there. i feel my knees weaken, joints softening at her warmth. i find myself pleading again, my words spill out like water from a broken dam, desperate and uncontrolled. anything to soothe the ache she burns in me.

my thumb strokes her forearm, "you want me to be your friend?" i touch her to comfort her. it would kill me, but i'd just be her friend if she asked me to. the thought sends a pang through my chest.

but i'd do it. for her.

azzi tries to speak, but i continue, moving my hands to her waist. this time, i'm touching her selfishly. my hands move hungrily, needed to be fed by the curves of her body. she needs to feel it.

she needs to know what she does to me.

"you want me to be your girlfriend?" my voice drops lower, with confidence i don't know where i found.

the way i say ‘girlfriend’ is long and drawn out, i let myself taste the word.

"paige—" azzi starts, but i'm lost in the moment.

i won't stop until i know she feels it too.

my hands tighten on her waist, pulling her closer. i resist the urge to dig my nails into her side, to sink into her.

"say it, azzi," i plead softly. "tell me what you need me to be."

azzi's eyes lock with mine, filled with emotion. there's a seed planted deep in her iris, shining under the moonlight, begging to be watered.

"you," she whispers. "just you."

i'd give her the world, the moon, the stars. but it's just me that she wants?

"and i'll be it," i promise, my voice leaks from my lips, watering her passion.

"paige," she breathes my name like a prayer. "i need you, i always have." she moves her hand to cup my face, "it's always been you."

it feels like she'd stole the words from my lips. has it always been us?

i tilt my head to the side slightly, leaning closer to her. something pulls me towards her, an invisible string tied from her lips to mine, a vine reaching for its trellis.

our lips finally meet, and it's sudden like the first drops of rain. the kiss starts soft, patient—smooth droplets hitting the surface of our parched earth.

her lips are delicate against mine, slightly parted, inviting me in. my hands slide up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her clothes.

god, the things i'd do just to touch her skin

but quickly, it deepens, burrowing into the soil of my skin. it's urgent and desperate. i take her all in, absorbing the pressure that's been built from years of silence.

her fingers thread through my hair, gentle yet persistent, pulling me closer. she's pulling at the roots between us, the foundation of our friendship. with each tug, years of platonic growth give way to something wilder. she's begging for unity in her grasp—for us to become one.

something blossoms between our lips, her tongue—like roots seeking water. the taste of her breath, something i've known for years but never consumed, now fills my lungs. an implicit craving, like the earth after rain. it's intoxicating, addicting.

she's breathless already, and i've barely started.

i finally breathe her in, like a sapling breaching the surface of the soil. i feel air for the first time, i feel truly alive. i pull her closer, our bodies flush against each other, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against mine.

"you need me, huh?" i pull back slightly, smiling into her kiss. all of my daydreams manifested in my hands, blossoming under her touch. moving to her neck, i kiss her gently. like raindrops down her collarbones, my tongue slides down her neck. "do you know how badly i've wanted this?"

i feel her gasp at my touch, a sound i've been dying to hear. when i pull back her cheeks are reddened and sweet like fruit.

look at her, all flushed and desperate. i did that.

every touch, every shared breath is a promise, nurturing this thing growing between us.

this feels like home.

i pull back slightly, my forehead resting against hers. our breaths mingle in the small space between us. i can't help but smile at the simplicity of this moment.

"i'm so in love with you," i whisper, the words tumbling out before i can stop them.

azzi's eyes sparkle, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "yeah, me too, unfortunately."

"hey!" i pout, giving her a playful shove. i can't hide the laughter building in my chest. it was so simple, so easy, so us.

she giggles, pulling me closer. her hands run up and down my arms, and suddenly i'm aware of how chilled i've become standing out here.

she seems to notice too. "as much as i'm enjoying this," she says, her voice soft, "maybe we should go inside before we catch a cold."

i nod, my body still humming from her touch but now chilling from the dampness of the earlier rain. "yeah, you're right."

i take her hand, fingers interlocking like we've done this a thousand times. it's so natural, it almost makes me cry.

just then, an idea sparks in my head, and i release her hand. without warning, i scoop azzi into my arms. she lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively wrapping around my neck.

she wraps her thighs around my waist, trusting my arms to cradle her. i'm reminded it was her willingness to let go, to trust, that brought us here.

she's featherlight in my arms, like she's always belonged there.

i carry her to the doorframe, smiling like a little kid. i step over the threshold, and i can't help but feel like a newly wed couple. we may not have the rings or the witnesses, but this feels just as special. we're crossing a line we can't uncross, stepping into the new versions of ourselves.

she'd make the perfect bride.

her house is warm, welcoming. the air speaks to me in whispers against my damp skin, "welcome home."

i set her down gently in the entryway, taking a step back to admire her. she glows in the soft light of the living room, it's surreal, like seeing an angel in the glow of a television screen.

i want to memorize her like this—hair tussled from the rain and our kisses, cheeks flushed with warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature. she looks like a painting come to life, all soft edges and warm hues.

she's always been beautiful, but now she's my beautiful girl.

i take a long moment to drink her in. the realization of everything finally hitting me. it's enough to tear me to the ground.

i get to love her.

azzi's pov:

she looks at me like i'm the most precious thing in the world. like i'm fragile, like she can shield me from any pain this world has to offer.

"i should probably shower and change," i say carefully, not wanting to break her gaze.

paige's face falls slightly, reminiscent of a lost puppy. she nods, moving to sit on the couch. my heart aches at the thought of leaving her, even for a moment.

an idea strikes me, bold and thrilling. i reach out, catching her hand. "do you...want to join me?"

her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and desire flickering in her stare. a small smirk forms on her lips. without a word, she nods, allowing me to lead her upstairs.

she's such a good listener.

i feel her eyes trace my body as i climb the steps, careful not to creak the staircase. she doesn't release my hand, her grip firm and longing.

i shut the bathroom door carefully and quietly, then reach to turn on the faucet. steam begins to fill the air, clouding the space between us. i face paige, my hands nervous yet bold—a new confidence born out of the heat of our confession.

i reach for the wet hem of her shirt, fingers tracing against her stomach. she stays perfectly still, her breath catching when she feels my touch.

i undress her slowly, anxiously. her damp clothes cling to her body, reluctant to release her to me. i pull her shirt over her head, her hair catching on the hem, falling into place perfectly.

i tuck a strand that's not out of place behind her ear, any excuse to touch her.

paige's eyes never leave mine, full of trust and hunger. i've seen her vulnerable before, but never like this. in a quick moment, we just stand there bare in front of each other. it's tender and overwhelming.

i help her into the shower, holding her hand and she steps into the water. i'm struck by the intimacy of this moment. it's not just about physical closeness, but about truly seeing her.

she's seeing all of me right now. maybe she always has.

despite, being completely naked in front of her, her eyes never leave mine. she stands with her back to the shower head, her wet eyelashes fluttering. water cascades over her shoulders, washing away the last remnants of distance between us.

i didn't have to see her like this to know that she's beautiful. i knew before i even saw her. the first time i heard the sound of her voice, a sweet cadence like sand slipping through my fingers.

she's beautiful at her core.

"what are you thinking about?" i ask softly, prying for more of her. the most precious parts—her dreams, her thoughts, her mind.

paige takes a deep breath, and i can see years of thoughts race through her mind. her voice trembles slightly as she begins to speak.

"i've always loved the way your eyes look in the sun," she reaches for my waist. "the way they catch the light."

i feel like poetry underneath her tongue. her words, soft and melodic, spilling out of her like ink bleeding from a pen.

she continues, "the way my thumb fits into your dimple." she pulls me closer, water coursing over her shoulders, dripping onto my chest.

she molds me like clay with her hands, i become real for the first time. if i'm her muse, then she's the artist. both the admirer and the creator.

she's made me who i am.

unlike most modern artist, she's doesn't see me as unfinished, a work in progress. her gaze doesn't search for potential or seek to change me.

she sees me as i am.

thumbs pressed into my sides, sculpting my form with loving hands. she doesn't touch to change, she touches to admire, to consume.

"i love how you see beauty in everything," she pauses, moving a hand up to my cheek, "in me."

"you make it easy," i smile, leaning into the palm of her hand.

she pulls me in for another kiss. this time it's slowed, gentle. she strokes my face softly, like brushing paint on a canvas.

this is so much better than i could've ever imagined.

i thank myself for writing that letter years ago, for tracing her beauty with ink on paper, so that one day i may trace it with my tongue on her skin.

when she pulls back, i feel my body ache. i don't know how i'm going to live with the taste of her on my lips, a hunger that's never satisfied.

"turn around," her voice low and husky. "let me wash your hair."

paige's pov:

i feel so lucky.

for all of the things i get to notice about her now. there's so much more to love.

a beauty mark underneath her left breast. the subtle dip at the base of her spine. the way her curls stretch under the weight of the water. the soft curve where her waist meets her hips.

i've spent years memorizing her with my eyes. now i get to learn her all over again with my hands, my lips, my tongue.

she turns, her back facing me. i hold the nape of her neck in my hand, as she leans into my palm. the way she releases herself to me, it burns something deep inside me.

god, how long have i dreamed of this?

i run product through her hair, watching as her curls soak it in. they lengthen at the added weight, giving it a new texture i know i'm going to grow to love.

i strain my neck closer to her ear, my breath heavy on her skin. i catch sight of her neck, a delicate line like a brushstroke on a canvas. her eyes closed shut, i take a moment to admire her.

azzi is living, breathing art. something baroque—tragically beautiful in its intensity.

i wash her hair with careful fingers, i'm slow to learn her body. i want to get it right, to be perfect for her.

when i close my eyes, she's all i see. the lines of her body burned into my mind from this simple moment. i imagine her neck bending in this way with my face between her thighs. her soft breaths turning into rampant gasps, a song meant only for my ears.

i finish washing her hair, running the water through her smooth curls. guiding her by her waist, i turn her to face me. my hands betray my mind, lingering on her hips, pressing deeply, trying to stifle my lust.

i tell myself: slow your hands, steady your thoughts. we have the time now.

she gives me a look that tells me she can feel my desire burn through my fingertips. eyes wide and filled with an emotion i'm learning to recognize. a look specifically reserved for me.

she cannot look at me like that.

she knows what it does to me, she sees it in my face. but she just smiles sweetly, kissing my cheek before stepping out of the shower.

i'm left there for a moment, dazed. it doesn't take long before i find myself chasing after her, trailing like a shadow. she tosses me a towel, before wrapping herself in one.

she leads me by the hand to her bedroom, her skin still warm from the shower. she searches through her closet, pulling out an old, worn t-shirt—one i recognize from years ago.

"here," she says, offering it to me with a smile that tugs my heart. her brown eyes soften.

i'm jealous of the eyelids that get to hold her gaze.

i slip it over my head, letting the fragrance of her presence engulf my lungs. i feel like a kid again, in her clothes. the fabric, a hug from that young girl who was so scared to tell her best friend she was in love with her. the stitches holding together years of sleepovers, laughter, and shared secrets.

it still fits perfectly, enveloping my entire body. i change into a pair of shorts, completing the outfit.

"sit," she gestures to the bed, brush in hand. azzi sits behind me reaching forward to scoop up my hair.

her hands work gently, sectioning my hair, before running the brush down my back. azzi's fingers occassionally brush against my neck, sending chills down my spine. she hums softly, a habit of hers i've noticed since we were kids.

has she always been this tender? or is this new?

with each pass of the brush, she's smoothing away years of misunderstanding. she soothes the regret built up inside me for not telling her sooner.

how did i ever live without this? without her?

as she finishes, her fingers run through my hair, shaking out my curls delicately. i close my eyes, silently begging for a few more seconds of her touch.

i turn to face her, our eyes meeting. in this moment, wearing her clothes, her fingers in my hair—i've never felt more myself.

she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small shiny object.

her lipgloss.

she applies it to her lips, slowly and thoughtfully, not breaking eye contact with me. the light catches the soft shine of her lips and i'm mesmerized.

she leans in, closing the distance between us. her hand on my cheek, gentle yet sure. when our lips meet this time, it's softer than i ever imagined.

it's the closeness i've been begging to feel from the start.

i taste the sweetness of the gloss, feel the warmth of her breath, and suddenly i'm home. this is everything i've ever wanted—to be seen, to be known, to be loved by her.

"i love you," i whisper into her lips.

she smiles, pulling back slightly. "i love you too." i feel her words resonate with my entire being. she means it.

i'm left with her on my lips, in my heart, intertwined into the deepest parts of me.

[witchybitchycrybaby]

And they were neighbors...

Benjicot Blackwood x modern!fem!Bracken!reader

Warnings: none, it's just pure fluff, modern au

Words: 1,3k

✨✨✨

Benjicot Blackwood groaned as his alarm buzzed on the nightstand, effectively interrupting his sleep. He slapped it off and lay back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His thoughts, as usual, drifted to his best friend, his next-door neighbor, his... whatever you were to him. The Bracken girl, on top of that.

His parents would probably go bananas if they knew he had feelings for you.

Sure, your families couldn't stand each other, everybody in your small neighborhood knew that, but for Benji that war no longer mattered when it came to you. He thought about the way you looked at him, the way you always had an answer whenever he said something unhinged, and that smile… oh, that smile. He was whipped, completely and utterly.

How you managed to get so deep under his skin was beyond his understanding.

He'd had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. He never said a word about it before, though. He liked being your friend and he was afraid of ruining your relationship. The thought of you not reciprocating his feelings was always in the back of his head, so he simply kept quiet.

Today, however... Oh, screw it, it was high time to take the risk.

Benji rolled over and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. With his hair tousled on the pillow, eyes still half-closed, and a lazy smirk on his lips, he snapped a picture. He looked exactly how he wanted to feel: confident, yet charming. Perfect. He added a caption: "So, what’s it like living next to the most handsome guy ever?"

With a deep breath, he hit send. He quickly tossed the phone away as if it burned him. You two were used to each others smartass remarks, but flirting was an entirely different level. Seconds felt like hours, and he started to question his impulsiveness. What if you didn't get the hint? What if you thought hr was being weird? What if you didn't respond, choosing to ignore him? His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind creating the worst-case scenarios wasn't helping at all.

Finally, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, expecting the worst. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the message.

"No idea. I'm pretty sure there's no one in our neighborhood that matches the description."

Benji's heart raced as he read your reply. It was good, really good even. You didn't make fun of him, you just took the chellange. He could work with that. His finger hovered above the screen, trying to come up with a response, when another message from you popped up.

This time, it was a picture. You were also still in bed, your hair a mess, eyes half-closed, looking even sleepier than him. You were clutching a pillow with a playful smile on your lips. His breath hitched in his throat. You were stunning.

"I figured I'd return the favor," you texted then. He grinned as his heart did a little flip.

"Cute," he replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. "But I still look better."

"In your dreams, Blackwood."

"You are in my dreams, Bracken."

There was a pause before you texted back: "Cheesy much?"

"For you? Always."

He stopped for a second. Biting his lip, he thought of doing something riskier. The only thing he was worried about was your reaction.

"Speaking of dreams," he started again after a minute. "I dreamt I stole your pillow. I guess mine's just not as comfy."

There it was. He sent it. And you read it.

There was a brief pause before you answered, but when you did, relief poured over him

"Of course you'd want my pillow, my bed is generally way better, you know. It's not my fault you can't get some decent pillows."

"Nah, it's just the pillow. I've got the coziest setup, Bracken. You'd fall asleep in seconds."

"You're delusional," you texted, and he could imagine you laughing in your room. "I'd show you real cozy, but my bed is off-limits to annoying neighbors."

"I think you meant 'annoyingly charming'", he typed, his smile growing wider. "Admit it, Bracken, you'd let me join you if I asked nicely."

Your reply came quickly, "If you weren't so annoying, maybe, I'd have to think about."

This was it, the opening he was waiting for. Benji took a deep breath and went for it. "Alright, I promise to be on my best behavior. Now, would you be so kind, my lady, and open your window?"

That threw you off a bit. "Why?" You texted, your eyebrows furrowed.

Only seconds after you sent your message, you heard a soft rustling outside. Moving to the window, you pulled back the curtain to see Benji, climbing up to your window with a mischievous grin. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight.

"What the hell, Benji?" you whisper-shouted, quickly opening the window.

"Good morning to you too, y/n," he whispered back, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Are you crazy? If my parents find out you're here, they'll kill you. And then my dad will resurrect you just to kill you again."

Benji chuckled softly. "They'd have to catch me first. Now, are you going to help me in, or are you going to let me fall and have my ghost haunt you for the rest of your life?"

"You're insane", you said but grabbed his arm and helped him climb into your room. He landed softly on your carpet, glancing around your room. "Cozy," he said, sitting on your bed and bouncing slightly on the mattress.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

He stretched out on your bed, hands behind his head. "Testing the coziness, of course. You did say your bed was better, remember?"

You shook your head, sitting next to him. "You know, you could've just walk through the front door? Like a normal human being, Benji. Climbing through my window is a bit... dramatic."

Benji turned to look at you. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, I needed to make sure I had your full attention."

You sighed, but there was no hiding the smile that appeared at your lips. "You've got it. Now what?"

He sat up, closer to you now, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by something more serious. "I like you, Bracken. A lot. More than a friend should like a friend. And I get it, our families, the whole feud thing... but I don't care about any of that when it comes to you. I just... I needed to tell you."

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock and surprise. You though your mind glitched, trying to process his words. He looked so vulnerable now that he had exposed himself and his feelings. "Benji, I..."

But before you could say something more, he cut you off with a nervous laugh. "I know, it's crazy. I just... I needed to tell you."

Your hand reached out and grabbed his. You gave it a soft squeeze and intertwined your fingers. "No, it's not crazy. Actually... To be completely honest, I feel the same way too."

"You-you do?" He stuttered.

"Yeah. I guess I was just scared to say anything because of our families and all that. But... I’m glad you did."

A slow smile spread across his face, lightening it up. "Me too."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. "So, does this mean I get to stay? Not just for the comfy bed, I mean."

You laughed, the sound filling the room. Oh, he could listen to it for eternity. "Yes, Benji. You get to stay."

He grinned, closing the distance between you. "Good," he whispered, before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It was brief but for Benji it was enough.

For now.

[pretzel-box]

-1- THE CRIMES, THE LIES, THE PRIZE WE CLAIM

Word count: 5,1k

Tags: Slightly graphic mention of human experiments, anxiety and panic

Summary: In between panic and lies, you try to cover up the mistakes that are hovering above your head like a guillotine, in the worst way possible. And while the lies over lies continue, the camera exposes the truth.

MASTERLIST HERE

You forced yourself to stand, your legs shaky, and your mind cloudy of the anxiety. The taste of bile still lingered in your mouth as you wiped the remnants of vomit from the corner of your lips, barely caring that your office attire was getting stained. The panic and adrenaline surged through you, making your thoughts race as you struggled to process what you had just done—and what you had just discovered.

Your eyes drifted back to the file on the table. Sebastian Solace... the name echoed in your mind, accompanied by images of the mutilated body you had seen in those photos. You shuddered, your hand instinctively moving to push the file away, but instead, it hovered over it for a moment, as if unwilling to completely sever your connection to the awful truth.

But there was no time for reflection. The soggy mess of coffee-soaked papers lay scattered around, seeping into your blazer as you picked them up, but that was the least of your worries. You had to clean up, to minimize the damage, to somehow cover up the fact that you had not only ruined precious data but had also stumbled upon secrets that could cost you your life.

A plan, you needed a plan—something to keep you safe from the consequences of your actions. The fear gnawed at you, suffocating you as you envisioned the worst-case scenario: being found out, being dragged into a room like the one you had just read about, strapped to a table, helpless as they experimented on you just as they had on Sebastian. The thought made your blood run cold, your hands trembling as you tried to gather the ruined files.

Sebastian’s face flashed in your mind again, his haunted eyes, his claims of innocence. You had read the files, seen the accusations against him. Nine victims. Nine lives taken, and yet... the question nagged at you: did he truly deserve what had been done to him? To be dehumanized, treated like a mere object, his body ripped apart and put back together in the name of science? The more you thought about it, the less certain you became. And with that uncertainty came a creeping sense of dread—because if they could do that to him, what could they do to you?

Suddenly, the shrill ring of a telephone cut through your thoughts, jolting you out of your trance. The sound made you flinch, your heart racing as you stared at the source. It was a sleek, modern black phone sitting on the desk, one of the few objects that had escaped the coffee spill accident.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the receiver as you debated whether or not to answer it. This wasn’t your office; you had no right to pick up that phone. And yet, a part of you feared what might happen if you didn’t—what if it was someone who knew what you had done? What if it was someone who could help you? Your mind raced through the possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally made a decision. Your fingers closed around the receiver, your heart pounding as you lifted it to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever voice awaited you on the other end.

"Geez, took you long enough to take the damn phone into your hands," a familiar voice snapped on the other end, dripping with irritation. It was your co-worker, the one whose office you were currently standing in, and she did not sound pleased. Her tone was sharp, like a knife cutting through any pretense of civility.

"Listen up, and listen carefully," she continued, her words biting. "I wasn’t able to tell you before, but don't touch the Z-13 file on the desk. Your work is with the other ones. And for god's sake, don't snoop around in my office and don't put your nasty little fingers all over my stuff, got it?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, the guilt and panic swirling together, threatening to choke you. You fought to keep your voice steady, to mask the shaking that you feared would give you away. "Yeah, yes—no worries," you managed to stammer out, hoping it sounded casual enough.

There was a brief, tense silence on the other end, as if she were scrutinizing your response even through the phone. Then, with a final, terse command, "Good. Hurry up," she abruptly hung up, leaving you standing there with the receiver still pressed to your ear.

The line went dead, but the harshness of her words lingered, echoing in your mind.

Your breath caught in your throat as you slowly lowered the receiver back onto its cradle, the ringing silence of the room suddenly louder than before.

The urgency of your situation was clear—every second you wasted increased the risk of someone walking in and discovering the mess you had made. Panic surged through you again, but you forced yourself to focus. You needed to clean up, to erase any trace of what had happened.

You scanned the room, your eyes settling on your bag, which you had left by the door when you first entered. It wasn’t designed to hold much, but it would have to do. Without wasting another moment, you hurried over and grabbed it, your hands fumbling with the zipper as you opened it wide.

The soggy files lay sprawled across the desk, the ink bleeding through the pages, the once-clear text now a blurry mess. You bit your lip, fighting back the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you again as you gingerly began gathering the ruined papers. They were heavy with liquid, the pages sticking together as you pried them from the desk. One by one, you stuffed them into your bag, the dampness soaking through the fabric and onto your hands. You could feel the panic rising in your chest, your heart hammering as you worked as quickly as you could, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The bag was nearly full when you finally managed to scoop up the last of the papers. You zipped it shut with a sense of finality, feeling the weight of the files press down on you like a physical burden. But there was no time to linger; you had to get rid of the evidence before anyone came in.

You glanced around the office, your eyes landing on the coffee-stained desk and the sticky puddle that had spread across its surface. Grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the desk, you began wiping it down, your movements hurried and frantic. The coffee had already begun to seep into the wood, darkening the surface in uneven patches, but you scrubbed at it anyway, desperate to erase any sign of your mistake. The tissues quickly became soaked, leaving streaks behind, but you kept at it, your fingers trembling as you wiped away every last trace.

The desk was finally clean—at least as clean as you could manage in such a short time. You stepped back to inspect your work, your eyes darting over every inch of the office to ensure nothing was left behind. The bag, heavy with the ruined files, hung from your shoulder, a constant reminder of what you had to do next.

You couldn’t leave it here. It was too risky. Instead, you would have to hide it somewhere that's more safe—somewhere only you had access to at the moment. Your own office was the best option, at least for now. Swallowing hard, you took one last look around the room, then hurried out, closing the door quietly behind you.

The hallway was mercifully empty as you made your way back to your office. Your heart pounded in your ears, the sound almost drowning out the click of your heels against the floor. You tried to maintain a calm facade, but every step felt like a countdown to disaster.

Finally, you reached your office door. You fumbled with your keys, your hands shaking as you unlocked it and slipped inside. The familiar surroundings did little to calm your nerves, but at least here, you were safe for the moment. You quickly crossed the room to your desk, opening the bottom drawer and shoving the bag inside. It barely fit, the edges of the files pressing against the sides, but you managed to close the drawer with a solid push.

You stood there for a moment, your hands resting on the drawer as you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The evidence was hidden, the office cleaned—at least, you hoped it was enough. But as you stared at the drawer, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of your troubles.

Two days had passed since the incident, and in those tense hours, you had lived with a constant undercurrent of anxiety, waiting for the moment when someone would discover your mistake. Yet, as the days ticked by, there was nothing—no sudden inquiries, no suspicious glances from your co-workers, no missing file alerts. It was as if the world hadn’t noticed at all.

At home, the soggy files now rested on your heater, and you had spent hours painstakingly fixing the majority of the papers. You had printed out pages from the massive database, using the limited access granted to you by the office computers. Each time a paper was replaced, the weight on your shoulders lightened just a fraction. It was a grueling process, but with each passing moment, you felt the situation inch closer to resolution.

Allowing yourself to relax, you started to believe that the worst was behind you. All that was left was to finish restoring the remaining documents at home and sneak them back into the basement archive. You imagined the quiet return, slipping the files back into their rightful place without a soul noticing. It was almost over.

But just as you let your guard down, she appeared. The black-haired co-worker stepped into your line of sight, her expression more severe than usual. The typical fake smile she wore like a mask was gone, replaced by a deep frown that sent a chill down your spine.

“You,” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Do you have the files?”

For a split second, your heart froze. Her question was direct, and the weight of the files hidden in your home felt like a gun aimed at your head. But you knew you couldn’t falter now. You forced yourself to smile, hoping it didn’t look as shaky as you felt.

“A co-worker needed them, so I gave them away after finishing them,” you lied smoothly, praying she wouldn’t see through your act. “No worries.”

She stared at you, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to dissect your words, to find the hidden truth buried beneath your calm exterior. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension. You could practically feel the sweat beading at the back of your neck.

“But I finished the work you kindly gave me,” you added, trying to shift the focus. You gestured vaguely at the completed files, hoping to distract her from your obvious unease.

For a moment, it seemed like she might press further, but then she simply nodded. The skepticism in her eyes lingered, but she accepted your words, for now. Without another word, she turned and left, leaving you standing there, the sense of danger receding like a wave that had just crashed over you.

As she disappeared from view, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. It wasn’t over yet, but you had bought yourself some time—time to finish what you started and, hopefully, to make sure no one ever found out what really happened to those files.

A week had passed since the incident, and the tension that had knotted your stomach every time you stepped into the office was finally beginning to unravel. You’d managed to restore the ruined files to near perfection, and they now sat neatly in the basement shelves where they belonged. No one had noticed anything amiss—at least, not yet. Every day without a complaint was a small victory, and you clung to the hope that it would stay that way.

But now, sitting in the comfortable leather chair in Mr. Wiltshire’s office, that familiar knot began to tighten again. The golden nametag on his desk gleamed in the soft light, a constant reminder of the authority he held. You’d been summoned all the way up here for a private conversation, and though you told yourself it was likely routine, a nagging fear whispered that it could be about the accident. You had worked tirelessly to cover your tracks, but the possibility that something had slipped through gnawed at you.

The door opened, and Mr. Wiltshire entered with his usual confident stride. “There you are,” he greeted you warmly, taking a seat across from you. His smile was easy, his demeanor relaxed, as if this were nothing more than a casual chat between old friends. “Our rising star. Tell me, have you managed to make yourself comfortable in our ranks? Do you enjoy your work?”

You forced a smile, trying to match his tone. “I did. The work is just right, and I think I’ve managed to befriend some of the co-workers, even.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Despite your initial doubts, you’d found your place at Urbanshade—or at least you had, until recently.

Mr. Wiltshire nodded, seemingly pleased with your response. “That’s good to hear. You’re fitting in well, and that’s important.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the keyboard in front of him. It was clear he was listening, but also preparing for something more significant.

“You want a coffee?” he asked, his tone light. Before you could respond, he continued, “I called you here to talk about your future at Urbanshade, and since it won’t be a short conversation, let’s get some drinks.” He pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the intercom, “Please, bring us some coffee in my office.”

As he released the button, he turned his full attention back to you, his smile unwavering. “Urbanshade has great plans for you, starshine.”

His words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. On one hand, it was reassuring that this meeting seemed to be about your future at the company rather than a reprimand for your mistake. On the other hand, the mention of “great plans” made you uneasy. You had hoped to keep your head down, to let the memory of that disastrous day fade into obscurity along with the name Sebastian Solace. But now, it seemed that Urbanshade had other ideas for you.

Mr. Wiltshire’s smile grew as he continued, his words flowing like honey. “You’ve been doing exceptional work, truly. I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress, and it’s clear that you’re not just another employee. You’ve got potential—real potential. You’re detail-oriented, dedicated, and I can see you have a certain... curiosity that’s rare in this business.”

His praise felt like a double-edged sword. While the compliments were flattering, there was an undercurrent that made you uneasy. It was as if he was building up to something, laying the groundwork before dropping the real reason for this meeting.

Just as you were about to respond, the door opened, and an assistant entered carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of coffee. The sight of the assistant briefly drew your attention, but what really caught your eye was the mug she set down in front of you.

It was your favorite mug. The one you kept in your own office and the one you had during the accident. It was a small, personal item—something no one else should have known about. Yet here it was, filled to the brim with hot coffee, its familiarity now a source of dread rather than comfort.

You felt your stomach lurch as the assistant placed the mug in front of you with a polite smile, then turned and left the room without a word. Mr. Wiltshire watched your reaction closely, his smile never wavering, though now there was something sharper behind it.

“Ah, I see you recognize it,” he said, his tone almost too casual. “I thought you’d appreciate a little taste of home, so to speak. After all, it’s the little things that make our work environment more comfortable, isn’t it? In this case, a hot sip from our favourite mug.”

You managed a stiff nod, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the mug. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the ceramic, but instead of soothing your nerves, it only heightened your anxiety. How did he know? The question echoed in your mind, but you couldn’t find the words to ask it aloud.

Mr. Wiltshire leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know, we’re very thorough here at Urbanshade. We like to make sure everything is in order, that nothing slips through the cracks.” He paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you squirm. “That includes monitoring our facilities, keeping an eye on things... and people.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and your mind raced. He knew. Somehow, he knew about the accident, the files, everything.

“We have security cameras in every office,” he continued, his tone as smooth as ever, but with a chilling edge. “For safety, of course. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our valuable employees... or our valuable information.”

You felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. The weight of the mug in your hand seemed to increase, but you forced yourself to set it down carefully on the desk, not trusting yourself to take a sip.

“I saw everything,” Mr. Wiltshire said softly, leaning forward now, his eyes narrowing. “The coffee spill, the frantic cleanup, the files you so carefully took and... altered. And then there’s your little side interest- Sebastian Solace.”

He let the name hang in the air like a noxious cloud, and you could almost feel the walls closing in around you. The room seemed smaller, the air thicker, as if the truth you’d been trying to bury was suffocating you.

“You see,” he continued, his voice taking on a mocking, almost condescending tone, “I can’t help but wonder... What exactly were you doing? Are you just a curious employee? Or is there something more to it? A spy, perhaps? Sent by a competitor to dig into our most sensitive information?”

Your mouth went dry, and you struggled to find your voice. “N-no, I... I’m not a spy,” you stammered, feeling the words tumble out clumsily. “It was just an accident... I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” he interrupted, his smile now entirely devoid of warmth. “But accidents have consequences, don’t they? Especially when they involve sensitive materials.”

He leaned back again, his gaze pinning you in place. “So, what do we do about this? How do we handle a situation like this without causing... unnecessary complications?”

The threat in his words was unmistakable, and you felt a surge of panic. You were trapped, caught in a web of your own making, and Mr. Wiltshire was the spider, waiting to see how you would try to wriggle free.

The room was silent except for the faint ticking of a clock somewhere behind you. The mug of coffee sat untouched between you, its presence a reminder that your every move had been watched, analyzed, and now used against you.

Mr. Wiltshire’s eyes bore into yours, and you knew there was no easy way out of this. Whatever came next, it would be on his terms, not yours. And the only thing you could do now was try to survive the fallout.

Mr. Wiltshire’s demeanor shifted, the warmth in his voice returning as if the tension from moments ago was nothing more than a figment of your imagination. His smile was back, but it felt rehearsed, like a mask he wore to keep you off balance.

"Z-13—Mr. Solace—has done some truly awful things, not just to our society, but directly to us here at Urbanshade," he began, his tone almost fatherly. "We’re an honest, vital company in these times, and while I’ll admit we have our flaws, the file you read... it was a corrupted report, filled with sickening lies meant to turn people against us. Saboteur, that’s what we call him now.”

He paused, letting his words sink in, his eyes narrowing as he watched your reaction. “If you think he deserves pity, then I urge you to remind yourself what he did to those nine humans and their families.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the air thicker as you felt the weight of his words. The crimes of Sebastian Solace had haunted you ever since you first read about them, but now, hearing this, the doubt you had felt about the experiments began to waver. Could it be that you had been misled? That Solace was truly the monster they painted him as?

Mr. Wiltshire leaned forward again, his voice softening, yet laced with an underlying menace. “Or what he did to us.”

He reached into a bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a thick file and flipping it open to a specific page. As he turned it toward you, your eyes fell on a recent report from the Hadal Blackside, detailing the aftermath of Solace’s sabotage.

“We conduct experiments, yes,” he said, his tone almost defensive, as if he was trying to convince you of their necessity. “But we do it with the utmost care, as ethically as possible. Yet, when mankind seeks to push the boundaries of evolution, sacrifices are sometimes unavoidable. Solace... he sabotaged us, forced the Blackside into a state of lockdown, and we can’t track him down because he has one of our newest devices—a scrambler.”

Your eyes were drawn to the pictures within the file. One showed a large, strange-looking machine, its design intricate and intimidating. The caption read, "Scrambler—Beta Design." Another page outlined the device’s functions, detailing how it could disrupt signals and create a zone where tracking was impossible.

“If he has the scrambler,” Mr. Wiltshire continued, his voice taking on a note of frustration, “we have no way to find him. He’s out there, somewhere, hiding in the shadows with that machine, and we can’t bring him to justice. He’s dangerous, and now, more than ever, we need to neutralize that threat.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you. The reality of the situation was far more complex than you had ever imagined. The man whose suffering you had pitied, whose story had seemed so tragic, was being painted as a villain of the highest order—a threat not just to the company, but to society as a whole.

And yet, something still gnawed at you, a tiny voice of doubt that refused to be silenced. Could Mr. Wiltshire be twisting the truth? Was this all just a clever manipulation to keep you in line, to ensure you wouldn’t dig any deeper into the secrets of Urbanshade?

As these thoughts swirled in your mind, Mr. Wiltshire leaned back once more, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, you see, there’s more at stake here than just a few files. I trust you understand now why it’s so important that we maintain control over the situation. And why I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you moving forward."

His smile returned, but it no longer felt reassuring. Instead, it was a warning—a reminder that you were now entangled in something far beyond your control, and there was no easy way out.

The weight of Mr. Wiltshire's words pressed down on you like an anchor, pulling you deeper into a sea of confusion and dread. "I see..." you muttered, struggling to process everything he'd just unloaded onto you. The lines between truth and manipulation blurred, and you found yourself questioning everything you thought you knew. "So, I read a corrupt file?"

"That's correct," he confirmed, his tone almost patronizing. "That's why the file wasn’t in the archive with the others. And it's not like you were supposed to see it in the first place." He took another casual sip of his coffee, as if this was all just another routine conversation.

You felt a small surge of relief. Maybe, just maybe, this was all a misunderstanding, and you could continue on with your life, leaving this mess behind. But then, as Mr. Wiltshire leaned forward, his eyes locked onto yours with an unsettling intensity, your hopes quickly began to wither.

"But let’s talk about the real reason you're here," he said, his voice suddenly businesslike. "Keeping someone with your knowledge and... naivety here is dangerous, so I've spent some time thinking and have come to a decision. I'm going to promote you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Despite everything—the stress, the mistakes, the fear—your boss was actually considering promoting you. The idea filled you with a brief but intense wave of excitement, washing away the anxiety and doubt that had plagued you. Maybe, just maybe, this would be your chance to escape the drudgery of intern work and finally start climbing the corporate ladder.

But the next words out of his mouth turned your excitement to ice.

"You will now be our ‘lead researcher’ for the Hadal Blackside," he announced with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Your transport leaves in an hour."

The words hung in the air, a death sentence disguised as an opportunity. Your stomach dropped as he placed two objects on the desk in front of you: a syringe and a USB stick. "A special position for a special girl."

The trap had been laid out, and you had walked right into it. Your so-called promotion wasn’t an escape—it was a ticket to the one place you had desperately wanted to avoid.

"I will give you an actual promotion when you return from this mission," he continued smoothly, as if sensing your internal panic. "It’s very simple. And it will be worthwhile for you. Go down to the Hadal Blackside; we’ll provide you with the necessary equipment. Find a certain crystal." He paused, watching your reaction, gauging how much more you could take. "And find Sebastian Solace. Deactivate the scrambler and send us his location. The syringe will be the medication you give him, this will knock him out right away, and the USB stick will help you through the lockdown. That's all to it, really. No real harm.“

His voice dropped to a whisper, the intensity of his gaze making your skin crawl. "I promise you, your safety is guaranteed. This is a simple mission. You’ll receive the other details later on. But if you turn it down..." He trailed off, the threat clear without needing to be spoken. "I can't guarantee what will happen to you here."

You stared at the syringe and USB stick, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a physical force. This wasn’t a promotion; it was a one-way ticket into a nightmare you’d wanted to avoid. But what choice did you have? Refuse, and you knew Mr. Wiltshire wouldn’t hesitate to make good on his unspoken threat.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt hollow, but they were all you had left. Your future at Urbanshade—and possibly your life—now depended on completing a mission that you were woefully unprepared for.

"Good," Mr. Wiltshire replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Then I’ll see you when you return, Lead Researcher."

You left the office with a heavy heart, the new mission lingering in your mind as you tried gaslighting yourself into believing that it was really just a minor setback, a necessary stepstone toward a luxurious future. The promotion was all you had ever wanted, and now it was only a few inches out of grasp—so close, yet so perilously out of reach.

As you walked down the sterile hallway, each step echoed with the weight of your decision. You told yourself that this was just another challenge to overcome, another box to check on your way to success. After all, wasn’t this what you had signed up for? To rise through the ranks, to prove yourself, to be more than just another faceless employee in the vast machine of Urbanshade?

But no matter how many times you repeated those reassurances in your mind, the knot in your stomach only tightened. You could still see Mr. Wiltshire’s cold smile, hear the veiled threat in his voice, feel the chill of the syringe and USB stick he’d placed in front of you.

As you neared the elevator, the walls seemed to close in on you. The sleek, reflective surfaces showed a distorted version of yourself—someone who was confident, capable, and in control. But beneath that polished exterior, doubt gnawed at you, eating away at the fragile sense of security you had worked so hard to build.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet hiss. The button for the office room level seemed to glow ominously as you pressed it, the descent mirroring the sinking feeling in your chest.

This was supposed to be your moment, your chance to prove yourself.

Now you could almost feel the walls of the Hadal Blackside closing in on you, the darkness creeping in from all sides, the weight of the ocean pressing down on your shoulders. The thought of returning there, of facing whatever horrors awaited, made your pulse quicken with dread.

But what choice did you have? Mr. Wiltshire had made it clear—either you complete this mission, or you’d find yourself in a fate far worse than the one you were being sent to prevent.

The elevator came to a stop with a jolt, and the doors slid open to reveal the familiar sight of the office room level. You stepped out, your footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridor. The smell of coffee and old paper hit your senses, a harsh reminder of the reality you were about to face.

Your office was just down the hall, a small, nondescript room that had become your refuge during your time at Urbanshade. But as you approached, you couldn’t help but feel like it was the last place you wanted to be. The files you had worked so hard to restore, the secrets you had uncovered—they were all there, waiting for you.

You reached the door and hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle. Your last hour over the surface of the ocean has just started.

[rubbish-taste1234]

Maid to the Shadow King

The marble floors of Ouran High School glistened under the morning sun, casting a polished reflection of the opulent chandeliers above. The grand hallways echoed with the rhythmic tapping of designer shoes and the melodious hum of idle conversation. Amidst this sea of calm, a sudden burst of frenetic energy broke the tranquility.

A girl, her cheeks flushed with urgency and her breath coming in desperate gasps, sprinted down the hallway. Her maid uniform was slightly askew, the ribbon at her collar barely hanging on. She dodged past students with an agility born of pure panic, her eyes scanning every corner, every nook, searching frantically.

"Where is he? Oh no, oh no, oh no!" she muttered under her breath, her mind racing even faster than her legs. She had one job, one simple task: look after the boy. But in the labyrinthine corridors of the elite academy, he had vanished as if into thin air.

Her thoughts spiraled into worst-case scenarios. What if he got lost? What if he was in trouble? The boy was the familys next patriarch after all. And she, entrusted with his care, had let him slip away.

She turned another corner, almost colliding with a group of giggling girls, and skidded to a halt. Ahead of her was the music room. Desperation guiding her actions, she decided to check inside. If there was one place in this grandiose school where she might find him, it was here.

With a quick prayer, she pushed open the ornate double doors and was immediately greeted by a flurry of rose petals. They fluttered around her like a dream, the sweet fragrance momentarily distracting her from her mission. As the petals settled, she blinked, taking in the scene before her.

Standing in a dramatic triangle formation were seven boys, each dressed in elaborate knight costumes, complete with capes and faux armor that glinted in the light.To the right of this formation, adjusting his glasses, stood the raven-haired boy she had been desperately searching for.

"Welcome to the Ouran Host Club," they chorused in unison, their voices harmonizing perfectly.

She stared, wide-eyed and breathless, at the theatrical spectacle before her. 

Her heart was still racing, but now it was from a mix of relief and something else entirely. She took a deep breath, gathering her composure. "Master Kyoya," she began, her tone respectful yet firm, "you can't just disappear like that. You know I have my duties to attend to."

Kyoya adjusted his glasses, his expression remaining steady. "My apologies. I didn't mean to cause you any distress."

She straightened her maid uniform, trying to maintain her professionalism despite the surreal setting. "Please, inform me next time you decide to... participate in such activities. It's my responsibility to ensure your well-being."

The other hosts watched the exchange with amused interest, their expressions ranging from curiosity to admiration for her steadfast demeanour. Kyoya nodded, his expression calm and respectful. "I'll keep you informed."

With a final nod, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. "Thank you, Master Kyoya."

As she turned to leave, she gently pulled the ornate double doors closed behind her. The soft click of the latch echoed through the room, marking her exit.

The moment the doors were shut, the remaining hosts turned their heads in unison, their expressions a comical mix of curiosity and mischief. All eyes were now on Kyoya, waiting for an explanation.

Tamaki, with his pale-blond hair shimmering in the light, was the first to speak, his violet eyes wide with excitement. "Kyoya, who was that girl? She seemed so serious!"

Honey, the smallest and most cheerful of the group, perched on Mori's shoulders, clasped his hands together, flowers practically blooming around his head. "Yeah, Kyoya! She was cute! Does she like cake?"

Mori, stoic as ever, simply nodded in agreement, his dark eyes observing Kyoya with a hint of curiosity.

The Hitachiin twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, shared a conspiratorial grin. Hikaru leaned forward, his amber eyes glinting with mischief. "Is she a new club member?"

Kaoru, standing next to his twin with his hair parted to the left, added with a smirk, "Or maybe she's your secret girlfriend, Kyoya-senpai?"

Haruhi, ever practical and straightforward, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Who is she, really? She seemed very concerned about you."

Kyoya adjusted his glasses, his expression calm and collected as always. "She's simply someone who takes her responsibilities seriously. There's no need for unnecessary speculation."

Tamaki, never one to be easily dissuaded, leaned in closer, his enthusiasm undiminished. "But Kyoya, she called you 'Master.' There's got to be more to this story!"

Kyoya sighed softly, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "As I said, she is someone responsible for my well-being. Nothing more, nothing less."

The hosts exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced but willing to let the matter rest, for now. The room fell silent for a moment, each of them pondering the unexpected encounter.

Finally, Kyoya spoke again, his tone signaling the end of the discussion. "Now, if we're done with this interrogation, we have guests to attend to."

With that, the hosts resumed their preparations, the curiosity lingering in the air but the immediate focus shifting back to their duties. SHOULD I CONTINUE THIS?? this is a reader x ohshc with the reader being a maid I just wanted to do something while I had free time and I kind of remembered fanfics exist 🤗